The Holly and the Ivy

"Pour me out some tea."

Ivy took the tea pot and poured the tea into Holly's cup.

"Would you like a crumpet?"

"What are they?"

"These things," said Ivy pointing to a buttered crumpet

"Yes," said Holly. She forgot the names of things now: her dementia was well advanced.

Holly and Ivy were sisters, of seventy and sixty years of age respectively.

Ivy was long-suffering. She'd always been a carer; first for her mother, who'd had arthritis, and now for Holly. Her bonds of love and affection knew no bounds. Holly was of a different nature. She had been an enjoyer; somehow she'd had the foresight to take her pleasures whilst she could. 'Carpe diem' was her shibboleth. But now she couldn't remember much about her life. She didn't even recognise her daughter when she called at the house. "Who are you?" she would say to Doreen and she couldn't for the life of her remember her name.

Now, on Christmas eve Ivy was arranging Holly's presents beneath the tree. Holly read the names on the gift tags sayimg who they were from.

"Who's she?" Holly kept saying.

"You remember Karen, Holly," said Ivy, "she's your cousin."

"No", said Holly, "I've never heard of her."

Ivy was upset again. It grieved her to see her sister like this. And no matter how she tried she couldn't come to terms with the problem.

Dr. Greenow was very understanding with Holly. Ivy was grateful for that. A fine looking man, Ivy had a bit of a fancy. The same age as Ivy and now a widower, Ivy would dream of him during the long, cold nights in her lonely bedroom just over the way from Holly. Holly had married twice and enjoyed men, particularly in her youth. Ivy had never married; she'd always been too busy, first with her mother and now of course with Holly. But she thought Dr. Greenow would understand her, Dr. Greenow if anybody could love her.

"I've got a pain," said Holly.

"Where?" replied Ivy.

"In my head."

Ivy was worried about aneurysms. Dr. Greenow had said Holly could be prone to them.

The night passed quickly. Ivy suggested a game of canasta, but Holly was not interested, so Ivy tried to get Holly to remember Christmases past. 

"Do you remember that Christmas when we were at Klosters, Holly? I was six and you were sixteen, and we were both learning to ski. I think it was the best time, Holly."

Holly's face lit up; Ivy was surprised. It had been a magical time, partying with the grown-ups on  Christmas day, eating turkey and Christmas pudding in the lodge.

Holly seemed to have a brief interlude in her memory loss.

"I do remember, Ivy, I had my first boyfriend - Karl. That's something I can't forget."

"And I had a friend too, Holly, Bridget."

"No, I don't remember Bridget."

"Well at least you can recall Karl."

"Yes, I was in love."

Just then Holly clutched her head and started screaming

"Oh, oh, the pain in my head," said Holly.

"Don't worry, I'll call Dr. Greenow."

"Hello Doctor, it's Ivy Perez, can you come quickly, it's Holly. I think she's had some kind of attack."

Dr. Greenow had been called out on Christmas Eve before, so  he was not too bothered.

When he arrived Holly was laid out on the chaise longue in the drawing room, gasping for breath.

He looked very serious. Ivy was going mad and was convinced this was the end.

Carols played on the radio, as Dr. Greenow closed Holly's dead eyes. Ivy wept uncontrollably. It had been a fatal aneurysm.

It would be a silent night tonight, but Dr. Greenow knew now he could make his move. 

"Come to have dinner with me tomorrow, Ivy. I will be alone otherwise. We might as well be together."  Ivy collapsed in his arms.

Every cloud has a silver lining, and for Ivy bonds of love and affection would now have a completely different meaning.