When the girls arrived at the hospital, they waited outside as Birdie’s door was closed. A nurse walked past and told them they were bathing Birdie and they could enter in a few minutes. The sisters stood quietly.
Grace spoke quickly. ‘I hope you don't hate what I did to Mummy's room. It’s maybe too much but let me know. I won't be offended. I just wanted to make it special.’
Violetta smiled. ‘I'm sure it will be lovely. Mummy always loved your taste in everything.’
‘I’m a bit conservative, so is Mummy. She was always telling me to try new looks like you, to be more fashion forward and cool. She wanted you to take me shopping but I was afraid to ask.’
Violetta looked at her in surprise. Birdie had admired her taste? Thought she was fashion forward? She always thought her mother’s comments were criticisms.
‘I won't be surprised if a fucking grand piano is in there, judging by the amount of noise you made this morning,’ grumbled Carlotta.
Gracie stuck her tongue out at her and Violetta felt like they were small children again.
The door opened slightly and two nurses came out. ‘Hello, your mother is all clean and fresh now. We love what you did with the room, gave us something to talk to her about. It's really lovely,’ said one nurse, smiling at the sisters.
Grace glowed as her sisters smiled at her appreciatively.
‘You go in first,’ said Grace to her sisters.
Carlotta and Violetta walked into the hospital room and gasped with surprise. Birdie was propped up in the hospital bed, but on the bed were her finest Porthault linens, with green fern edged embroidery pillows and sheets. The machines next to Birdie had been tucked away behind a small Chinese screen in greens and pinks. The ugly hospital trays had been covered with a divine mother-of-pearl inlaid antique tray. The uncomfortable hospital chairs had disappeared and instead were two black Frances Elkin loop chairs, covered in a striped green and white silk. Paintings hung at the end of the bed on the far wall – some of Birdie’s collection of waterfall paintings that she loved so much and had been collecting for years.
‘These are the least expensive pieces in the apartment, so I thought I would bring them,’ explained Grace, suddenly nervous about her sisters’ opinion.
Small bottles of Grace’s lotions and perfumes stood on a silver tray next to the bed, a Christofle water carafe and tumbler on a white lined mat. There was a beautiful Chinese ginger jar lamp on the small wooden table between the chairs and an electric oil burner tucked in a corner, burning essence of orange oil.
‘It promotes communication, I read,’ offered Grace when Violetta bent down to look closer.
Carlotta fingered the beautiful new curtains. They were thick and soft, white with scalloped edging in the fern green.
‘Mummy's Pratesi guests’ sheets. I sewed them together to make them thicker,’ said Grace.
Violetta nodded approvingly. ‘It’s beautiful, Grace, so beautiful. When Mom wakes up she will be so thrilled to see such gorgeous things.’
Carlotta, overcome with emotion pulled her younger sister close and hugged her around the neck as she would her horse.
As Carlotta rubbed her head softly, Grace started to laugh. ‘I’m not a horse,’ she said.
Carlotta chucked her under the chin. ‘Well, I love you nearly as much for doing this,’ she said.
Grace smiled. ‘I just wanted it to look nice for Mummy.’
Trying to forget her guilt at the drinking binge before the board meeting, she had tried to make it up to her unconscious mother by doing what she knew best, making things beautiful.
Carlotta looked at her watch. ‘I have to fly and head off. I’ll be back later,’ she said to her mother, and kissed her cheek. ‘Just a quick visit to see you’re OK but thanks to Grace, you’re more than OK.’
Grace kissed her mother’s cheek also. ‘I have go to Cranfields and tie up a few loose ends for Alan,’ she said to Violetta. ‘Do you mind being here alone?’
Violetta shrugged. ‘No, it’s fine, just me and Mom shooting the shit.’
Carlotta laughed. ‘You are pretty funny sometimes,’ she said as she left the room.
Grace was standing at the door. ‘Yes, she always was the funny one, according to Mom,’ she said to Carlotta as they left the room.
Violetta watched them leave and then sat next to Birdie. Funny? Great fashion sense? She shook her head; she never thought her sisters and mother thought of her that way.
Refilling the oil burner, she turned as she heard a knock at the door and the doctor walked into the room. ‘I like what you’ve done to the place,’ he said, looking around.
‘It wasn’t me, it was my sister Grace,’ Violetta said. ‘I hope it’s OK.’
