T.S.

Diana age 16: late January 1914

I tie the white handkerchief around the back of my head and go in. My bag bangs against my side. The parents of the house have left, probably back to Italy, and only Kitty and Greta are left. I entered her room. The shutters are open, letting some light come in. From her bed, Greta smiled weakly.

"Hi." I place my bag to

Seated beside her is Tom, also with a handkerchief on, "So what are you doing today?" asks Tom

"Brush her hair out and maybe pass a washcloth over her face... And maybe eat ?"

Greta's face frowns, "I'll try."

I beam and move towards her bathroom. I grab a small basin and the washcloth. The brush, I tuck under my arm and I walk into her room. I brush the washcloth over her face bringing up oil and caked dirt. She has probably been crying. I pat her face dry with the extra washcloth I had in my bag. I brought out the tupperware with the food I had packed. Tom feeds her. She eats half of it before leaning back tiredly and sleeping. We duck out into the street and walk back to Toms for our own lunch. We come back around 5PM to keep her company until Kitty comes home. The new developments around consumption told us that people are able to leave their homes for factory work. Kitty had gotten a job at the milliners and so far she hadn't looked sick but she suffered knowing her sister was dying. Kitty came back at 5:40PM and blew her sister a kiss, sitting at the door. We left them to natter. Their parents had given me a lump sum of money to tend to her whilst she died. I would have come regardless of the money. At first she turned her nose up at my help instead opting to get out of bed herself and telling me to go away and leave her alone. Sometimes, the fevers got so high she began to talk in her sleep. She would moan and groan and call out Tom's name but ultimately she didn't say much. Tom would sit by her for the most time. He wasn't too scared of the infection. He had had it once himself and survived and so had I. He cried sometimes. His first girlfriend was to die so early on in life and he had broken up with her just a month before. But even so, he kept coming, If not for her sanity, for his own. We kept coming everyday and every night but she wasn't responding to treatment. We threw her a small party on her 19th. Cake and all. Kitty sang like a lark and it cheered her right up.