Oh Dear Silvia

by Dawn French

  Jo bursts into more tears.

  ‘Oh God, sorry Sis, I just … y’know … sorry. God. What a baby I am … pathetic. It’s just all so bloody … hard.’

  She sniffles, and blows her nose and starts to gather herself emotionally.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s come to this. A bloody infection! I had so many other ideas for stuff to stimulate you … like tickling therapy, a live band, fish nibbling your extremities, lots of great stuff like that. I really believe one of them will work eventually, but an infection trumps all of it, frankly. I bet you’re bloody furious in there somewhere darling. I wanted to carry on with everything, still keep going, but they’re all saying what I have to do now is accept. Christ. How? If that’s it then, I have to accept that I have completely let you down, haven’t I? Yes, I bloody well have. Oh God. Sorry Sis.’

  She snuffles into her tissue and shrugs her submission with gasps and groans.

  ‘But y’know what? Here’s the thing. I can’t control the universe. I wish I could, but I can’t, and you are a very bright star Sissy. Very bright. Mummy knew that and that’s why she asked me to guard you, but I’m sorry, I just couldn’t and actually, y’know what? I can’t go on being part of the Silvia constellation. We have all paid homage to you, circled you, making sure you come first and making sure everything is alright for you, but I don’t think you are even aware of it, it’s gone on for so long. We’ve all willingly been the satellites in the Silvia cosmos, so much so that I would have taken all … this …’ she indicates the machines, the bed, the tubes, everything ‘… from you if I could have. I would rather it was me. That’s how I’ve always thought of you. You are the main planet, the brightest one, and I am simply in your orbit.

  ‘But honestly babe, I’ve got to stop all that because everything in the universe needs a counterpoise. Balance. Equality. It’s no good if I keep giving you centre stage to fill. It’s too much, for both of us, it’s too much. I have always thought that sisters can’t occupy the same space, so I’ve given in to you. But … why? I think I’ve always avoided explicit competition in case you bloody win! But that’s no good honey. Sometimes you will win and sometimes I will, but either way we should wish each other well.

  ‘I just can’t keep on feeling guilty this has happened to you, it’s bloody exhausting! And as Ed says, it’s quite simply not my fault. It’s not!’

  Jo sounds like a petulant child as she blurts this out. No wonder. That’s pretty much where her emotional development has been arrested. Almost exactly when her mum died. When she was nine years old.

  Jo reaches into her pocket and brings out a photo she spent most of last night looking for, after Cassie called. She knew it was in a box somewhere, but did she have it or did Silvia? She riffled through everything she could find to no avail. She climbed into her trusty VW and drove over to Silvia’s. Jo had a key, and let herself in. She rummaged through every obvious box. Nothing. The bureau, the top of the wardrobe, under the bed. Nothing. Then, suddenly, she heard an old-fashioned ringtone. It was Silvia’s phone ringing, but where? She followed the sound, all the way to Silvia’s handbag on the table in the hallway. She took the phone out and the lit screen announced that Cat was calling. Bloody Cat! Just a day before, Jo might’ve made the effort to speak to her, to encourage her to come to the hospital, to explain how critical the situation is, but for some reason that night – some properly accurate, sisterly, instinctively protective reason – Jo has no hesitation pressing the ‘IGNORE’ button, cutting Cat off.

  Why was she calling Silvia’s phone anyway?

  As if Silvia could answer.

  She must be drunk or something. Even more reason not to speak to her.

  As Jo replaced the phone in Silvia’s bag, she sees her sister’s open purse, and there, in beside her credit and loyalty cards is the photo. The very photo. Sissy has been carrying it around with her all this time, seeing it every day. It is a photo of the two little girls, Jo and Silvia. They are about eight and five years old, standing in their new raincoats. The photo is black and white but Jo clearly remembers hers was blue, Sissy’s was red with matching Start-rite shoes. They are outside Madame Tussauds and they are each holding a monkey. Their faces are full of barely contained delight. They are happy. Of course they are happy, they are safe and loved and they have a mum and a dad and they have no reason to doubt life will always be like this.

  This is the photo Jo has in her hand now at Silvia’s deathbed.

  ‘I’ve brought this, Sissy. It’s us with the monkeys, remember? It’s the real us. Two sisters who will always love each other, whatever happens. No one else is us. No one else has had what we’ve had, good or bad. I have loved being your sister y’know. I have learned so much, and honestly, I didn’t know it ’til now. That’s the truth. You and me. Big and small. Together. Forever. You will always have me and I’ll always have you, whether you’re here or not. Fact, darling, fact.

  ‘Now, listen to me, you go well, whenever you’re ready. Just so you know – I’m ready. At last.

  ‘I’m Jo. I’m strong. And I’m ready.’

  Jo sits down. She sits next to her dying sister, to be company for her.

  Thirty-Five

  Cassie

  Friday 11am

  With respect for Silvia’s sombre situation, the nurses have drawn down the blinds both of the small window in the door, and also the bigger window which looks out on to the nurses’ station and the corridor. The window out to the quad is still clear, although the light is grim.

  Cassie is standing just inside the door. She has her phone in her hand, and she is checking that all is well at home before she feels able to turn it off. She wants to clear her mind of anything else, so that she can be fully present in this room. She might not have this time again.

  Cassie has felt a surge of responsibility since the doctor chose to tell her first about Silvia’s gloomy prognosis. She has been identified as the next of kin and therefore the ideal person to inform. The oddly spurious hierarchy has propelled Cassie into the prime position she has been longing for. Yes. She is family with Silvia. Close family. The doctors aren’t to know the reality of the family dynamic. They assume a daughter is a beloved. Cassie can’t deny that despite the horror of the situation, she is relishing the assumed role somewhat. It fell to her to make the important calls, firstly to her dad, then her Aunty Jo, then Tia and so on.

  She can’t get through to Jamie, there’s no answer on his phone, but he’s told her that quite often he’s not allowed to use it, so she decided to text him and leave it at that. Cassie knows that he has stepped back purposely from the situation, so she reassures herself that he won’t mind being out of the loop. He might even want that. It might make his life easier, perhaps?

  Cassie is very close to her brother and has missed him very much since he joined the Marines. He was her solid ally. Dad is always a reliable support, but he has had his own sadness to contend with, besides which, she doesn’t feel that it’s particularly fair to dump on him about Silvia, the one person he is super raw about. He has his own mending to do concerning her. Anyway, Dad has been fantastic with Willow, who adores him, and that’s all Cassie desires from him. Why punish the one parent that has stuck by her?

  So, Cassie has managed the difficult situation since it ramped up a gear. She has been efficient and organized, even to this very moment. She is spinning all the plates. Dad has had to go back up to his wood to sort something out with the police. Tia has visited and gone, and Aunty Jo, who can’t stop blubbing, is presently availing herself of a giant dripping bacon butty and a cup of execrable coffee downstairs in the dreadful café. An interesting breakfast choice for a confirmed vegetarian.

  Aunty Jo seemed a bit better when Cassie swapped shifts with her. She is still crying a lot, but she seems calmer, thank goodness. Cassie wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Aunty Jo’s histrionics. She always makes a drama. Maybe now that there is an actual drama, Jo has finally understood how much the family ne
ed her to maintain some level of control. Cassie wants for there to be nothing fizzy right now, nothing to distract from Silvia.

  Just before Cassie came in, Winnie and another nurse were in here, making Silvia comfortable and turning her on to her other side. It’s always much better after Winnie has been into the room. Silvia gets the best attention and somehow the room feels fresh, and the situation is the best it can possibly be.

  Cassie notices that Winnie has moved into a slightly different modus operandi. She is moving around quietly and keeping all unnecessary nursing away, so that there is little fuss and noise around Silvia. Suite 5 is hushed and feels something like a sanctuary for the first time. The lights are low. Winnie has even allowed Tia’s offering candle to continue to burn. She has raised it up on to a shelf and the lovely smells of the flowers permeate the room. Silvia still has the beautiful fabric wrapped around her.

  Cassie takes it all in.

  This is now a dying room.

  She steps out of her ballet-pump flats and crosses to the bed. She puts her bag down and takes from it the white bendy bear, ‘Namma’, that Silvia sent over for Willow when she was born. The one and only present.

  Cassie has asked Willow if The Lady can borrow it while she’s feeling so poorly?

  Of course Willow has agreed, although it’s not easy for her to let him go, even temporarily. But Willow is a benevolent little soul, and would always do the kind and right thing, to her own cost. Like Cassie.

  Cassie picks up the corner of the sarong and the sheet, to where she can see her mother’s body. Silvia is facing the other way now, so Cassie slowly climbs into the bed and puts her back up against her mother’s. She puts her head on the white bear, pulls the beautiful fabric around her and lies still. With each laboured breath, Cassie tries to relax and chime in with the same rhythm, until eventually she succeeds and she is inhaling and exhaling simultaneously.

  Cassie likes it more than she could ever have imagined. The intimacy is bliss. Her body gradually starts to imbibe the heat of her mother, and she begins to unwind. They lie spine to spine, breathing steadily. Cassie closes her eyes, and in so doing, she can, just for this short time, imagine she is loved by her mum.

  It’s all she wants, and it’s the best.

  She is being transported back in time by everything sensory in her, and she is remembering fragments of her very young childhood when she was held close, when she felt safe, when the love was guaranteed and endless. The delight is intense, but the time is short and precious, so Cassie instinctively knows what she must do. She turns over, and when she is curled up, spooning her mother’s back, she slips her arm around to place the bear next to Silvia and to pull her close. Cassie is wrapped around Silvia pulling her in as tight as she can, rocking her gently. She wants to stay there together like that for always. She buries her face in her mother’s red red hair. Cassie’s red hair is indistinguishable from Silvia’s.

  Cassie reaches her mouth up to her mother’s ear and she whispers quietly.

  ‘Here it is Mum, here’s the love. Have it all.’

  Thirty-Six

  Winnie

  Friday noon

  Winnie takes the opportunity to nip into Suite 5 for a few minutes alone with Silvia while she checks and washes her. She has told the other nurse she can do it alone. Cassie and Jo are in the day room with the doctor. They had lots of questions, so Winnie ushered them all into the small day room with the two sofas and a fish tank, to talk in private, and away from Silvia.

  The fish tank is a gift from a well-meaning family who spent many difficult hours in that room when it was bare. Somewhere in that time, they must have had a conversation about what the room needed to cheer it up and they decided a fish tank was the answer. Was it unanimous? Or did one brave renegade unsuccessfully advocate a puzzle table or even a PlayStation and screen for the kiddies? The fish tank arrived on the ward two weeks after the death of their relative, and has been a nightmare ever since, causing ructions amongst the staff, none of whom want any of the responsibilities associated with it. It has to be maintained, regularly cleaned, the fish must be fed, dead ones have to be scooped out and replaced, the filters and pumps have to be checked. The ruddy thing is always leaking, and when it does, it shorts out other electrics in its vicinity, requiring engineers to be called up, who take ages to come because the tank is hardly a priority in a busy hospital. Meanwhile more fish die, and so it goes.

  Winnie has come to dislike the fish tank and all its inhabitants, but, ever willing, she has taken on the responsibility with good grace, and she hopes that, as Cassie and Jo are sitting in there, no doubt hearing very difficult information, they might at least get some distraction, if nothing else, from the bloody fish tank. Winnie has recently shelled out fourteen pounds to replace all the fish after they copped it, one after another. Her stomach churned when they were down to just one ugly toady-looking fish and she introduced a new one, which it immediately attacked and ate. It transpired he was the murderer all along, of all the others. Winnie left him alone in the tank for a few days to swim about and reflect on his bloodthirsty cannibalism, and the dreadful massacre he wrought. The gory carnage.

  While she was leaving him to repent in solitary confinement, she also decided to ‘forget’ to feed him. She felt a tiny bit guilty about it, but disgusting images of his fishy slaughter shored her up. He was an evil fish and he must go to his maker with his own conscience. Alarmingly quickly, he turned up his fins and she wasn’t sad to find him floating on top of the water, utterly dead. She used the net to fish him out and took no little satisfaction in lobbing him into the big yellow bin marked ‘hospital waste’.

  That was a couple of weeks ago and, since then, she has populated the tank with lots of small brightly coloured happy fish who are getting on well and seem to have no desire to murder each other, mainly because they are plastic …

  Winnie is aware that time is running out for Silvia. She wants to make sure that what little life she has left on this earth is pain-free, clean and dignified. Winnie knows that pretty soon, all of the machines will be withdrawn from Silvia if the family choose that route, which she hopes they do. She wants to make Silvia ready without interfering with any personal time the family need.

  Winnie will miss Silvia in her own right. For some reason, she has talked more to Silvia than any other patient she has had. She always makes sure she addresses every patient, but Silvia is different … Winnie has properly confided in her. Winnie’s life has been through considerable change in these last ten days, and Silvia has witnessed it all.

  If indeed she has.

  Whichever way, Winnie regards Suite 5 as a safe telling place.

  ‘Mi come fe wash you, Silvia, mek you all nice fe all dose visitors comin in. An’ nice fe you, to feel as upful as you can. Yu have much crosses to bear at dis trouble time wid dat nasty h’infection. H’only yu know how it feel. Mi no know a wa dat. Nobuddi else, but yu. Mi mek haste, an get yu feelin fresh, yes?’

  Winnie has her bowl of soapy warm water and a new, clean muslin cloth. She dunks the cloth and squeezes it out, wringing the excess water back into the bowl. It trickles down, and Winnie begins her last wash of Silvia.

  This is a religious ritual for Winnie, a devotion.

  The water is cleansing, purifying. It’s Jordan, it’s goodness, it’s God.

  ‘Mi haffi tell yu Silvia. Mi got doves in mi heart today. Dem all coo away, surprise yu cyaan hear it. H’Edward tek mi up to ’im forest last night. Bwoy! It sooo pretty pretty dere. Beautiful. ’Im tek mi so careful tro’ the trees, walkin gently on de bracken an’ leaves wid de giant mudda trees all arong us, so high an’ wide. We go right inside, to the very miggle. High high to heaven an’ wide wide to de seas. Mi nevva haffi time dese days to h’appreciate nature enough, an’ it such a place of God, Silvia. He is dere, in h’every lickle ting, h’every leaf an’ h’every twig, his h’omnipotence. Mi know it so clear. An’ h’Edward ’im know so much about all dem tree! ’Im know everytin
g.

  ‘Mi feel privilege to stan’ dere wid ’im reasoning so clevva in praise of Mudda Nature an’ all she finery. It speak to me, loud an’ true. Mi heart fill up an’ mi have no choice but to sing. Oh Silvia, it full of glory. God is in dat place. No doubt. And also Silvia, mi hope you hear dis wid respec’ … but … love also in dat place. And in here …’

  She touches her heart.

  ‘Y’know, mi meet plenty man inna dis short life so far. But not like h’Edward. None like dat good man. An ’im definitely good. ’Im made of goodness. Mi know it deep dung. It truut. When mi know facts, mi can say facts. ’Im mek mi feel ageless, light as a fedda, like a young gyal h’again. Mi tink we a go mek a life togedda, Silvia, an mi wan’ yu to know becaa mi respec’ yu, an’ becaa yu should know, mi a go do everyting to mek it good fe h’Edward an’ Cassie an’ lickle Willow.

  ‘We gonna grow eachudda good, jus yu wait an’ see. Even the soldier boy I nevva met yet. Winnie goin to mek it so dere is a mudda in dat space yu leave. Mi know h‘Edward goin to mek good dad for Luke, an’ so it my duty an’ pleasure to do de syame fe dose kids o’ yours. Mi know yu would wish it so, Silvia, mi know it.’

  Winnie has washed all of Silvia except her feet, which she comes to now. She takes the cloth and immerses it in the lovely water. She wrings it out, and some of the wonderful redeeming water drips back into the basin. She opens the cloth and wraps it around Silvia’s left foot, encasing it in the wet warmth. She holds it tight to give Silvia any tiny morsel of comfort that simple act might provide. How lovely to have your foot held, supported, cradled. Before the cloth has a chance to go cold, she massages the foot with it, separating the toes and going between, sweeping down and under the heel in a sure, confident circular motion. When she is finished with the left foot, she does the same to the right.