Oh Dear Silvia (28 page)

‘This time Tia see in drawer by Miss Cat side she sleep. It a heavy drawer, but only hankie in, so why heavy? Tia feel right to back an’ it push back wood away. Got tape holdin up a bag in. It’s got a man watch and big ring for weddin, inside says “Philip + Catherine 2.3.1991” and smaller woman ring with same. Gold rings. So Tia thinks Miss Cat never comin back, so good to sell rings and watch. They on eBay now. Lots bids.

‘Tia goin to get more talkin medicine for husband with that money. He likes the talkin an’ he start to do smilin, little bit. The talk doctor say it good to bring in my boys to join in next time. And Tia. All together for talkin. Doctor think he get well, take time. Tia make sure two sons dress up nice for talkin. They big boys since Mrs Shit see. Get new shirts. They both have 16–17 necks! Big!’

Tia sees Jo looking in and waving from the nurses’ station, and she knows she should leave, and let the inner, superior circle take over. It’s time. She reaches back into her bag and brings out a folded bolt of brightly coloured cloth. She lays it on Silvia.

‘This for Mrs Shit. It the sarong Tia wears to marry husband. Now Mrs Shit get wrapped up to keep spirit safe in, when she travel to world of dead. And so Tia and husband can say thank you to Mrs Shit for helping to get him better, and for get boys to school. You remember what stars say in magazine Mrs Shit? They say Friday the day should “dress to impress”. Now Mrs Shit dress nice. Very impress.’

She unfolds the beautiful cloth and wraps it around Silvia. The more she unfolds it, the more the beauty of it is revealed. It has come all the way from Indonesia. The pattern is a rich swirl of red and blue and green and yellow, glinting with gold thread and lots of tiny mirrored sequins sewn in delicately. The drab room is suddenly transformed into a blaze of vibrant colour, and Silvia is enfolded in a prism of vivid emerald and ruby and sapphire, of sun, sky, grass, fire, moss and sea.

Of the splendour of everything brilliant. Of life. In its loud colourful glory.

‘There. Mrs Shit should let go. There is so many other lifetimes to have. Time to start them now. Not to be scared. Just to go.’

The tiny mirrors in the sarong reflect hundreds of tiny bright lights around the room.

Tia leans in and tenderly strokes Silvia’s still cat-whiskered face.

‘It like when my boys say to Tia, and mean nicely, “Now, fuck off!” ’

Friday 9.45am

Tia and Jo are hugging each other in silent solidarity outside the door of Suite 5. Each secretly believes the other to be quite mad, but they are glad of the comfort this physical exchange provides. Silvia offers them a common sorrow to share, and both of these women rarely have a chance these days to touch another human being in such an intimate, consoling way. They hold on to each other for quite a long time with no embarrassment whatsoever.

Both have a chronic want.

When Jo burst into the room earlier, all of a flutter, she broke down pitifully the moment she saw Silvia. However obvious Silvia’s illness has been thus far, never has the dreadful raw reality of it hit home as much as now. The certainty of what’s happening is palpable. No one is speaking in a careful, sensitive way any more. The finality is beyond doubt, and Jo finds
the truth very difficult, although she is now forced to accept it at least. She had to leave the room and let it all out. Thankfully, Ed was there to help and so was the wonderful Winnie who has oftentimes been strict with Jo. They calmed her so that she can now come back into the room better equipped.

Jo enters the room with a certain amount of trepidation, and sure enough, the second she glances at Silvia, she loses it again, just like before. She is a hopeless mess, but Ed has had to go back up to his wood for some reason so she knows she has to face this. After all, nothing is really that different in here except Silvia’s colour has changed, she looks paler, and bluer. She has the faint remains of a cat painted on her face. There is an extra drip up, connected to a syringe driver in a locked Perspex case.

Nothing else has changed, and yet everything has.

Hope is lost, and that is the massive overriding difference. Jo tried to maintain as much hope as possible previously in this room. She believed it might be catching, and that somehow, in her faraway place, Silvia might hear the call of that hope loud and clear, and if she could, she might swim towards it through the darkness and out into the light, where Jo would be waiting. Now though, that former hope in Jo has faded and is replaced by a giant grief-in-waiting. Jo knows she must keep a lid on this. The time hasn’t come yet, but her dread of it threatens to tip her up.

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.

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 need 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.