silk. ‘Well, you know, my darlin’, it was meant to be such a special
birthday.’ Her liquid liner had smudged with tears, leaving dark rings around her eyes like bruises.
‘I’m on the phone any time of the day or night if you need me, and I’ll come over when I can.’ Ruby smiled.
‘I’m not taking my mobile,’ Kite mumbled.
‘I never thought I’d hear the day!’ Ruby took Kite’s chin in her hands, and Kite pulled away from her once more. ‘Well, Seth’s got his, so we can always talk.
I know how tired you are, darlin’ – maybe you’ll sleep in the car.’ Ruby clapped her palms against her head as if she’d been a fool. ‘I can’t believe I
didn’t think of that before. It’s how we used to get you to sleep when you were a baby . . . driving you around the block.’
‘Don’t you get it? Little Kite’s not a baby any more, and little Dawn’s—’ She stopped abruptly.
Ruby didn’t deserve any of her outbursts, but when Kite spoke to her like this it felt as if she had no idea how grown up her daughter had become.
The doorbell rang – a single, hesitant ring.
Ruby sighed deeply and walked out of the room. She was always being called on by someone, for something. She felt that neighbours should know each other, help each other out, like family.
Whenever there was a Fairview block party, it would always be Ruby hosting it, and hanging bunting from the little communal walkways. It had been Ruby’s idea to paint each of the front doors
a different 1930s colour, in keeping with the period of the building, with its large leaded windows and simple red brick. People walking along the street below would look up and admire or frown at
the acid-green, the creamy orange, light turquoise and salmon-pink doors. Dawn’s door (it would always be Dawn’s door to Kite) was salmon pink and looked especially lovely this summer
with Hazel’s planting of delicate sweet peas. Kite often used to think how much each door suited its inhabitants. Her own was of the brightest orange with a large blue glazed pot at the
entrance, like a Caribbean sky. Out of the pot grew long-necked birds of paradise with their magnificent orange and purple crests. As Ruby never tired of telling her, Kite had been born in this
flat, and so it had always been home for her. Now that had been spoilt too. Kite wondered if she would ever be able to rid her mind of the vile image of her friend lying alone as she stood outside
her door and knocked and knocked.
Kite could hear by the soft lilt in Ruby’s voice that she was comforting someone. A lemon smell wafted into her room, reminding her so much of Dawn that she found herself being drawn out
of her bedroom. Maybe she really had come back and it had all been a terrible dream, a nightmare that she had finally woken up from. But there, standing in the hallway, was Hazel, in the exact same
place that Dawn had so often stood. Even though she only lived on the landing below, it was the first time Kite had seen her since the funeral. She had always been thin, but now the skin hollowed
over her cheekbones, and the deep indents under her eyes made her look as if she was half starving. She was clasping Dawn’s Raggedy Anne doll in her hands. She looked up at Kite with her
watery hazel eyes that were the same delicate colour as Dawn’s. Kite attempted to pull her face muscles into something like a smile. With the effort she bit her bottom lip so hard that she
drew blood.
‘You smell of Dawn,’ Kite whispered, walking towards her.
Hazel nodded, as if it was the most normal thing to say in the world. ‘I’ve been using her soap. It makes me feel closer to her.’
Ruby stared from Hazel to Kite as if she was afraid to break into their conversation.
‘I heard you’re going away,’ Hazel murmured.
Kite nodded. She would have liked to say something to comfort Hazel, but what could be said or done now? Her mind drifted back to the day in Year 1 when Dawn had told her
birthday.’ Her liquid liner had smudged with tears, leaving dark rings around her eyes like bruises.
‘I’m on the phone any time of the day or night if you need me, and I’ll come over when I can.’ Ruby smiled.
‘I’m not taking my mobile,’ Kite mumbled.
‘I never thought I’d hear the day!’ Ruby took Kite’s chin in her hands, and Kite pulled away from her once more. ‘Well, Seth’s got his, so we can always talk.
I know how tired you are, darlin’ – maybe you’ll sleep in the car.’ Ruby clapped her palms against her head as if she’d been a fool. ‘I can’t believe I
didn’t think of that before. It’s how we used to get you to sleep when you were a baby . . . driving you around the block.’
‘Don’t you get it? Little Kite’s not a baby any more, and little Dawn’s—’ She stopped abruptly.
Ruby didn’t deserve any of her outbursts, but when Kite spoke to her like this it felt as if she had no idea how grown up her daughter had become.
The doorbell rang – a single, hesitant ring.
Ruby sighed deeply and walked out of the room. She was always being called on by someone, for something. She felt that neighbours should know each other, help each other out, like family.
Whenever there was a Fairview block party, it would always be Ruby hosting it, and hanging bunting from the little communal walkways. It had been Ruby’s idea to paint each of the front doors
a different 1930s colour, in keeping with the period of the building, with its large leaded windows and simple red brick. People walking along the street below would look up and admire or frown at
the acid-green, the creamy orange, light turquoise and salmon-pink doors. Dawn’s door (it would always be Dawn’s door to Kite) was salmon pink and looked especially lovely this summer
with Hazel’s planting of delicate sweet peas. Kite often used to think how much each door suited its inhabitants. Her own was of the brightest orange with a large blue glazed pot at the
entrance, like a Caribbean sky. Out of the pot grew long-necked birds of paradise with their magnificent orange and purple crests. As Ruby never tired of telling her, Kite had been born in this
flat, and so it had always been home for her. Now that had been spoilt too. Kite wondered if she would ever be able to rid her mind of the vile image of her friend lying alone as she stood outside
her door and knocked and knocked.
Kite could hear by the soft lilt in Ruby’s voice that she was comforting someone. A lemon smell wafted into her room, reminding her so much of Dawn that she found herself being drawn out
of her bedroom. Maybe she really had come back and it had all been a terrible dream, a nightmare that she had finally woken up from. But there, standing in the hallway, was Hazel, in the exact same
place that Dawn had so often stood. Even though she only lived on the landing below, it was the first time Kite had seen her since the funeral. She had always been thin, but now the skin hollowed
over her cheekbones, and the deep indents under her eyes made her look as if she was half starving. She was clasping Dawn’s Raggedy Anne doll in her hands. She looked up at Kite with her
watery hazel eyes that were the same delicate colour as Dawn’s. Kite attempted to pull her face muscles into something like a smile. With the effort she bit her bottom lip so hard that she
drew blood.
‘You smell of Dawn,’ Kite whispered, walking towards her.
Hazel nodded, as if it was the most normal thing to say in the world. ‘I’ve been using her soap. It makes me feel closer to her.’
Ruby stared from Hazel to Kite as if she was afraid to break into their conversation.
‘I heard you’re going away,’ Hazel murmured.
Kite nodded. She would have liked to say something to comfort Hazel, but what could be said or done now? Her mind drifted back to the day in Year 1 when Dawn had told her
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