Read Online Before I Die by Jenny Downham - Free Book Online Page B

smile, or to tell them to stop freaking me out and sit themselves down.
    Mum pulls a chair close, leans over and kisses me. The familiar smell of her – the washing powder she uses, the orange oil she sprays at her throat – makes me want to cry.
    ‘You had me scared!’ she says, and she shakes her head as if she simply can’t believe it.
    ‘I was scared too,’ Cal whispers. ‘You collapsed in the taxi and the man thought you were drunk.’
    ‘Did he?’
    ‘I didn’t know what to do. He said we’d have to pay extra if you puked.’
    ‘Did I puke?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘So did you tell him to piss off?’
    Cal smiles, but it wavers at the edges. ‘No.’
    ‘Do you want to come and sit on the bed?’
    He shakes his head.
    ‘Hey, Cal, don’t cry! Come and sit on the bed with me, come on. We’ll try and remember all the things we bought.’
    But he sits on Mum’s lap instead. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do this. I’m not sure Dad has either. Even Cal seems surprised. He turns into her shoulder and sobs for real. She strokes his back, sweeping circles with her hand. Dad looks out of the window. And I spread my fingers out on the sheet in front of me. They’re very thin and white, like vampire hands that could suck everyone’s heat away.
    ‘I always wanted a velvet dress when I was a kid,’ Mum says. ‘A green one with a lacy collar. My sister had one and I never did, so I understand about wanting lovely things. If you ever want to go shopping again, Tessa, I’ll go with you.’ She waves her hand at the room extravagantly. ‘We’ll all go!’
    Cal pulls away from her shoulder to look at her. ‘Really? Me as well?’
    ‘You as well.’
    ‘I wonder who’ll be paying!’ Dad says wryly from his perch on the window ledge.
    Mum smiles, dries Cal’s tears with the back of her hand, then kisses his cheek. ‘Salty,’ she says. ‘Salty as the sea.’
    Dad watches her do this. I wonder if she knows he’s looking.
    She launches into a story about her spoiled sister Sarah and a pony called Tango. Dad laughs and tells her she can hardly complain of a deprived childhood. She teases him then, telling us how she turned her back on a wealthy family in order to slum it by marrying Dad. And Cal practises a coin trick, palming a pound from one hand to the other, then opening his fist to show us it’s vanished.
    It’s lovely listening to them talk, their words gliding into each other. My bones don’t ache so much with the three of them so close. Perhaps if I keep really still, they won’t notice the pale moon outside the window, or hear the meds trolley come rattling down the corridor. They could stay the night. We could be rowdy, telling jokes and stories until the sun comes up.
    But eventually Mum says, ‘Cal’s tired. I’ll take him home now and put him to bed.’ She turns to Dad. ‘I’ll see you there.’
    She kisses me goodbye, then blows another kiss from the door. I actually feel it land on my cheek.
    ‘Smell you later,’ Cal says.
    And then they’re gone.
    ‘Is she staying at ours?’ I ask Dad.
    ‘It seems to make sense just for tonight.’
    He comes over, sits on the chair and takes my hand. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘when you were a baby, me and Mum used to lie awake at night watching you breathe. We were convinced you’d forget how to do it if we stopped looking.’ There’s a shift in his hand, a softening of the contours of his fingers. ‘You can laugh at me, but it’s true. It gets easier as your children get older, but it never goes away. I worry about you all the time.’
    ‘Why are you telling me this?’
    He sighs. ‘I know you’re up to something. Cal told me about some list you’ve made. I need to know about it, not because I want to stop you, but because I want to keep you safe.’
    ‘Isn’t that the same thing?’
    ‘No, I don’t think so. It’s like you’re giving the best of yourself away, Tess. To be left out of that hurts so much.’
    His voice trails off.