The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(44)

Audrey remained with her mother in an anxious vigil, watching over the burning body of her sister as little by little the fire consumed her weakening spirit. Finally Henry persuaded them to go to bed. ‘You’re just going to frighten her,’ he said, gently leading his wife away by the arm. ‘Let her sleep in peace.’

Audrey couldn’t sleep. She listened to the rain and worried about Isla until the tears ran down her nose and onto her pillow, staining it with anguish. Cecil and Louis were far from her thoughts. She clutched the sheets and remembered those nights when she had lain pressed against the warm body of her sister, recounting her midnight rendezvous with Louis and her secret trips to Palermo. Isla had enjoyed every vicarious minute. Audrey wished they could go back in time and relive those moments because something horrid pulled at her gut, something ominous. She dared not listen to it. Tried to ignore it. But the more she attempted to focus her thoughts on the good times the fear that she was losing Isla persisted until she could ignore it no longer.

Softly she padded into her sister’s bedroom. The windows clattered beneath the torrent of rain but the light from the street lamps shone through, illuminating the bed and the feverish form of Isla that twitched and turned in its fiery hell. With a suspended heart she sat on the edge of the bed and, taking the sponge out of the bowl of water, she began to dab Isla’s sweating forehead with great tenderness. ‘Please get well,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, please fight, Isla.’ Isla shook her head from side to side and moaned. Audrey began to cry. ‘God help her because I feel so hopeless, I don’t know what to do.’ Then she spoke with more urgency, willing her sister to wake up and listen. ‘I feel you’re slipping away, Isla. Please don’t slip away. I need you.’

At that moment Isla opened her eyes. They were red-rimmed and glistened like wet pebbles. Once so focused they now seemed distant, as if at the halfway house between this world and the next. ‘Isla, can you hear me?’ she asked in a trembling voice, placing the sponge back in the bowl to rinse it. Isla looked around as if unfamiliar with her own bedroom. Audrey brought the sponge up to her neck and began to pat the hot skin there. But Isla seemed unaware of it and continued to look about her, blinking at the small room that now meant very little to her. Audrey watched her in despair. She wanted to call her mother and yet Isla wasn’t in pain. She wasn’t crying out. To the contrary she seemed content and serene. Audrey hoped she was over the worst.

When Isla focused on her sister she thought for a moment that she was an angel come to take her on to the next dimension. She had never believed in the world of spirit. That was Audrey’s belief, but now, as she wavered on the brink of death she was certain of it. She wondered why she had been such a sceptic, it all seemed so obvious to her now. She laughed and noticed Audrey’s face flinch in surprise. Disappointed, Isla realised she wasn’t an angel after all, but her sister. It wasn’t her time yet. ‘Audrey,’ she whispered, then wondered why her voice didn’t work as before. She didn’t have the energy to speak in anything other than a whisper. Audrey leant forward to hear.

‘Isla, are you in pain?’

Isla shook her head. ‘I feel drunk,’ she replied then smiled. ‘It feels nice.’

‘Oh, Isla, I’m so pleased. You’re going to be all right. You’ll feel well again in the morning and we’ll laugh about it.’

‘I’m going to die,’ she replied without sentiment. Audrey was shocked.

‘No, you’re not.’

‘Oh, I am.’

‘Isla!’

‘I want a big funeral. No expense spared. Tears, wailing and gnashing of teeth.’

‘Isla, please . . .’

‘I’ll be watching, so make sure you all give me a good send off. I’ll know if you don’t.’

‘This is ridiculous, Isla. You’re being horrid. You’re not going to die.’ Then her voice cracked. ‘You can’t die. I need you.’

‘You’ll be fine without me. You’ll have Louis.’

‘I don’t want Louis if it means sacrificing you.’

‘Just promise me one thing.’

‘What? I’ll do anything.’

‘Have the courage to follow your heart, Audrey,’ she said, enjoying the melodrama of death. She was aware that she sounded like one of the heroines out of the novels Audrey read and would have liked those to have been her last words. But to her disappointment she didn’t die. So she had to continue finding suitable last words to utter until she finally slipped into unconsciousness, distracted by the bright white light and her grandmother who walked towards her with her arms outstretched, radiating a love she knew didn’t exist on the earthly plane.