A Short Stay in Switzerland Page #4

for no reason. Falling backwards...

that's how it's even worse

than what killed your father,

to put it bluntly.

That is PSP.

That is what I have.

It's rotten bad luck.

What are we going to do?

I've made up my mind.

I don't want to hear this. I would

like you to respect my decision.

What have you decided?

Suicide.

What have you just said?

Would you be so kind as to repeat

what you have just said?

No, I wouldn't, Sophie.

Why not?

clearly. How else would you like

me to tell you? Morse code?

Bush telegraph? Smoke signals?

I think the world's gone mad.

I feel remarkably sane.

That makes one of us.

What's has made you decide?

It's been decided for me, Edward.

How has it? The disease, Jessica,

that's what's decided it.

We can't allow you to kill yourself.

Allow me?

I can't, mum.

None of the three of us can.

Excuse me. Mother, please,

you must discuss this.

No discussion. Don't be so

damn selfish. Listen to me.

She's just had dreadful news.

So have we, Edward. Come on.

Please don't let this happen.

Please.

Will you read this?

Do you see what it is?

Times and dates and days

What do they mean? You'll know

I've already fallen down the stairs,

well, here are the rest

of those memorable occasions

when I could no longer control

myself. They are a record

of each time I've fallen,

or dropped what I was holding,

or was helpless.

That is my list.

Look at the length of it.

This is already happening so often.

Is this what you want for me?

We just want you to live.

So do I, Jessica.

We want to help you.

We'll all help you.

All right. Tell me.

Mention palliative care,

though, and I'll turn violent.

Perhaps you'll lock me

in the bedroom?

Face it, did the same thing

to your poor father.

You did the very best for him.

That's why we ask you to let us

do the same for you.

Be there for you.

What do you want me to do?

You could move into a house

you can cope with.

Single storey. A bungalow?

Dear, dear, you'd put me

in a bungalow.

It makes sense, mother.

Don't dazzle me with sense, Sophie,

it was never your strong point.

A bungalow! Bungalow!

Perhaps if I keep saying it I might

resist the temptation to emigrate.

I hear Eastbourne's lively.

I wonder if it's full of bungalows!

She makes it sound like we're

putting her in the workhouse.

I heard that! You were meant to!

I knew it. Looks like a Scout hut.

It's less than a mile from home.

It might just as well be Edinburgh.

The cat will hate it.

It's not perfect, but then, what is?

I'm sorry.

cried in front of everyone in the

town by now, it's ridiculous.

I'm either crying

or losing my rag completely.

Sophie, you should tell

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