Oh Dear Silvia Read Online Free Page B

bereft.
    ‘Then, then something happened. Something amazing. I picked up my torch to look at the log that had attacked my back so badly, and d’you know what I saw? Fresh shoots, Silv. In some big storm, this old rotten tree had fallen. But in its new, horizontal position, it had come back to life. It wasn’t finished yet, Silv, it had more living to do, that dead old wood. More to give. Yes. It was so clear to me. However battered by our storm, however uprooted I was, I didn’t have to lie down and accept that I was felled. I still had strength, I still had sap, and more importantly Silv, and what you will never understand the joy of, I had my saplings to shelter and raise. Of course I did. Of course. I left the noose hanging there and I walked away from that huge tree where only minutes before I had thought I would finish.
    ‘I ran in the darkness back to my car. As I was climbing over the stile next to the gate, I heard a weird flapping noise. With the help of my trusty torch, I could see it was a public notice announcing the sale of Collicott Fields. I read on. It included the beech wood I’d been in, Foy Wood. I didn’t know it even had a name! Surrounded by twenty acres of field. Foy Wood, Silv. That’s my wood now. I bought it the following week. The down payment was money I nicked from Ma’s secret cupboard. Not so secret after all! He he! She counts it every week, and doesn’t even know it’s gone!
    ‘Yes, that’s my wood and I’ve taken good care of it Silv. And while you’re in here, stuck in that bed and stuck in your head, I’m going to tell you all about it, and that way, I’m going to take you there. You may be a cruel old cunt, but everyone is entitled to beauty. And that’s what you shall have. The beauty might just save you.’

Five
Tia
    Friday 10am
    ‘Hello Mrs Shit! Is me at last – Tia!’
    Sutiyah Setyawati bumfles noisily into Suite 5, proudly carting a brace of plastic bags with her. She has brought gifts for her employer Mrs Shute. In one bag, there are three Tupperware clipboxes containing three different dishes that she knows Mrs Shute especially loves. She immediately unpacks them and spreads them on the table which swings across the bottom of the big clinical bed.
    ‘I have your favourite. Three favourite. I make for you in my cooker last night. Every in my family try steal! I say no, that for Mrs Shit only. For make her much well. I tell them to do big piss off, not to eat. They have many other to eat. Keep dirty fingers and toes off Mrs Shit food. This goin to make her alive again. If Mrs Shit smell my gado-gado, you think she stay dead? No thank you! She jump up and suck it off very quickly.’
    Without even removing her coat, she unclips all the tiffin boxes and takes the lids off, releasing the ambrosial spicy scents into the room. The juicy vapours permeate Silvia’s tired dry air with their delicious moisture. Tia, as she’s known to all British people who can’t pronounce her full name, picks up one of the boxes piled high with delicious fried rice with chillies and anchovies and whole, shiny garlic bulbs. She positions herself near the top of the bed where Silvia’s head is slightly lollopped on one side. She places the tub under her nose.
    ‘Come on Mrs Shit. It smell good, yes? You wanna wake up now? I make plenty more if you do. Deal or no deal, come on. This is my special nasi goreng. For warriors. One big lady is easy for this. Will help you fighting. Come on.’
    She checks no nurses are snooping through the window, then she dips her index finger into the luscious juice at the side of the dish, slips it into Silvia’s mouth, and rubs it all over her gums and teeth.
    ‘Is good. Is very good. Enjoy the juicy and wet. You won’t regret. The taste is gentle, hm? Not enough too spice? Just as the lady likes, I think. Who wants food in the tube? How is getting in properly? A tube with bad soup in, no pepper? No please thank you for Mrs Shit. She like hot, ow