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maddening for Cat who, at work, is perfectly assured.It’s only in the orbit of the leviathan Silvia that she becomes such a pathetic jelly on occasion. The very thing that repulses Silvia. This is what Cat has battled with. It’s her constant torment. How to win Silvia’s affection, how to creep closer into that warm place which is only in Silvia’s gift. In the gift of an intrinsically ungenerous person. Not a simple aspiration, admittedly, and possibly self-destructive, but Cat can’t help herself.
    She’s drawn to Silvia like a moth to a flame, and, like moths do, she is willing the flame to burn brighter and higher.

Seven
Jo
    Friday 4pm
    Winnie and the other nurses can see into Suite 5 through the long window on one wall, which enables the staff at the nurses’ station to keep an eye on whatever’s going on. Very often, with seriously ill patients like Silvia, Winnie and the other nurses will ignore a certain amount of strange behaviour by visitors so long as it doesn’t interfere with the actual physical care of the patient. The visitors are, after all, in their own shock and sometimes react oddly.
    This afternoon, though, Silvia’s sister is sorely testing their patience. She has closed the big outside window curtains and lit many overpoweringly sweet-smelling candles, which are drenching the entire ITU in their repulsive musky pong. She has been repeatedly told not to do this as a naked flame can cause serious explosions when coupled with oxygen, which is clearly in huge supply in ITU. But none of the warnings registerwith stubborn ol’ Jo. She is playing loud Enya-beauty-spa-atmosphere music which is leaking out into the corridor. The music is the worst offence. It is annoying and upsetting other patients’ visitors and Winnie even noticed that a fellow coma patient has charted some eye movement for the very first time, perhaps as a protest against the audio torture.
    Jo is ensconced in Suite 5, conducting what she considers to be a celestial gathering. Amongst the towering insanity of the bizarre scene, only one fact is a surety. Silvia would hate this. Really hate it.
    All around Silvia’s head is a halo of different-coloured crystals arranged in an arc on her pillow. On Silvia’s chest lies a clutch of white feathers tied up with twine and quartz beads, and a dreamcatcher. Jo is dressed in flowing white linen, an outsized long-sleeved blouse and a long white skirt. Her obvious and hastily chosen black underpants are the day’s biggest mistake so far.
    Or so she thinks. She is wrong.
    Many other much worse mistakes are happening, including her choice of opening line.
    ‘Right, let’s begin by getting comfortable. Oh sorry Sissy, you can’t of course. Ignore that bit, I’ll start again. Hang on, let me get comfy …’
    Jo is gabbling, as per usual. Gabbling furiously whilst trying to invoke peaceful meditation. She sits.
    ‘OK. Here we go Silv. Oh great masters of our universeand all the abundant goddesses, hear us in our time of need. Please, if you’re not too busy, we beseech you in your infinite wisdom, to summon all the angels and archangels hereabouts and convene them here … abouts. I call out to all nearby divine celestials to gather here to pool our combined forces and make a diamond-white liquid lovelight so strong that it will heal my sister Silvia and bring her upwards out of sleep and back to the living plane and to well-being. It doesn’t matter if not all the major angels are available, so long as a couple of key ones could come? Michael for instance. I have been reliably told that Archangel Michael can simultaneously be with unlimited numbers of people in unlimited numbers of places? Not sure if that’s true, but it would be great if it was … so, do come unto here, o great Michael. Keep breathing Silv, inhaling the positive thoughts, and exhaling your tensions. Let them go. Give yourself permission to let them go. And breathe. And breathe …’
    The machine breathes