24th November 2006 - Annabel and Isabel

Annabel and Isabel are sisters. They sit, like toby jug book ends, either side of a table. Some days they don't know they are sisters. Some days they do know they are sisters. Some days - the worst, most awful days - only one of them knows that they are sisters. They don't often speak but they will sit and hold hands on days that they know each other, sit and ignore each other when they don't and sit an silently cry on the days when only one of them knows she's a sister and can't understand why the other is ignoring her.

Isabel is slightly more talkative but less mobile. Annabel can't breath well and has an oxygen mask round her neck ready for when she needs it. Isabel can't walk and the hoist is needed to get her in and out of her chair. Annabel can't feed herself, needing a carer to do this for her - or on a good day Isabel can help - if both of them know who the other is. Isabel can feed herself but is not continent. Both have no-one else. No-one comes to see them. They are both spinsters, the only two children of dead parents, who were both only children. Annabel and Isabel, all alone, together alone.