Before I die Jenny Downham

Goodbye, bird?
I suggest. 
He nods. Goodbye, bird. Thank you for coming. And good luck.
He scoops mud over it, but leaves the head uncovered, as if the bird 
might like to take a last look around. What about the maggots? he says. 
What about them?
Won t they suffocate?
Leave an air hole, I tell him. 
He seems happy with this suggestion, crumbles earth over the bird s 
head and pats it down. He makes a hole for the maggots with a stick. 
Get some stones, Tess, then we can decorate it.
I do as I m told and wander off to look. Adam stays with Cal. He tells 
him that rooks are very sociable, that this rook will have many friends, and 
they ll be grateful to Cal for burying it with so much care. 
I think he s trying to impress me. 
These two white stones are almost perfectly round. Here is a snail s 
shell, a red leaf. A soft grey feather. I hold them in my hand. They re so 
lovely that I have to lean against the shed and close my eyes. 
It s a mistake. It s like falling into darkness. 

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132
There s earth on my head. I m cold. Worms burrow. Termites and 
woodlice come. 
I try and focus on good things, but it s so hard to scramble out. I open 
my eyes to the rough fingers of the apple tree. A spider s web quivering 
silver. My warm hands clutching the stones. 
But all that is warm will go cold. My ears will fall off and my eyes will 
melt. My mouth will be clamped shut. My lips will turn to glue. 
Adam appears. You all right? he says. 
I concentrate on breathing. In. Out. But breathing brings the opposite 
when you become aware of it. My lungs will dry up like paper fans. Out. 
Out. 
He touches my shoulder. Tessa?
No taste or smell or touch or sound. Nothing to look at. Total 
emptiness for ever. 
Cal runs up. What s wrong?
Nothing.
You look weird.
I got dizzy bending down.
Shall I get Dad?
No.
Are you sure? 
Finish the grave, Cal. I ll be OK.

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133
I give him the things I collected and he runs off. Adam stays. A 
blackbird flies low over the fence. The sky is griddled pink and grey. 
Breathe. In. In. 
Adam says, What is it?
How can I tell him? 
He reaches out and touches my back with the flat of his hand. I don t 
know what this means. His hand is firm, moving in gentle circles. We 
agreed to be friends. Is this what friends do? 
His heat comes through the weave of the blanket, through my coat, 
my jumper, my T-shirt. Through to my skin. It hurts so much that thoughts 
are difficult to find. My body becomes all sensation. 
Stop it.
What?
I shrug him off. Can t you just go away?
There s a moment. It has a sound in it, as if something very small got 
broken. 
You want me to go?
Yes. And don t come back.
He walks across the grass. He says goodbye to Cal and goes back 
through the broken bit of fence. Except for the flowers by the chair, it s as if 
he s never been here at all. I pick them up. Their orange heads nod at me 
as I give them to Cal. 
These are for the bird.
Cool!
He lays them on the damp earth and we stand together looking down 
at the grave. 

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134
Twenty 
Dad s taking ages to discover I m missing. I wish he d hurry up 
because my left leg s gone to sleep and I need to move before I get 
gangrene or something. I shuffle to a squatting position, grab a jumper 
from the shelf above me and push it down with one hand amongst the 
shoes so that I have a better place to sit. The wardrobe door creaks open a 
fraction as I settle. It sounds very loud for a moment. Then it stops. 
Tess? The bedroom door eases open and Dad tiptoes across the 
carpet. Mum s here. Didn t you hear me call?
Through the crack in the wardrobe door I see the confusion on his face 
as he realizes that the bundle on my bed is only the duvet. He lifts it up and 
looks underneath, as if I might ve shrunk into someone very small since he 
last saw me at breakfast. 
Shit! he says, and he rubs a hand across his face as if he doesn t 
understand, walks over to the window and looks out at the garden. Beside 
him, on the ledge, is a green glass apple. I was given it for being a 
bridesmaid at my cousin s wedding. I was twelve and recently diagnosed. I 
remember people telling me how lovely I looked with my bald head 
wrapped in a floral headscarf, when all the other girls had real flowers in 
their hair. 
Dad picks up the apple and holds it up to the morning. There are 
swirls of cream and brown in there that look like the core of a real apple; an 
impression of pips, blown in by the glassmaker. He spins it slowly in his 
hand. I ve looked at the world through that green glass many times – it 
looks small and calm. 
I don t think he should be touching my things though. I think he 
should be dealing with Cal, who s yelling up the stairs about the aerial 

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135
coming out of the back of the TV. I also think he should go down and tell 
Mum that the only reason he s asked her round is because he wants her 
back. Getting involved in matters of discipline goes against all her principles, 
so he s hardly looking for advice in that area. 
He puts down the apple and goes to the bookshelf, runs a finger along 
the spines of my books, like they re piano keys and he s expecting a tune. 
He twists his head to look up at the CD rack, picks one out, reads the cover, 
then puts it back. 
Dad! Cal yells from downstairs. The picture s completely fuzzy and 
Mum s useless!
Dad sighs, moves towards the door, but can t resist the temptation to 
pull the duvet straight as he passes. He reads my wall for a bit – all the 
things I m going to miss, all the things I want. He shakes his head at it, 
then bends down and picks up a T-shirt from the floor, folds it and places it 
on my pillow. And that s when he notices my bedside drawer is slightly 
open. 
Cal s getting closer. m missing my programmes!
Go back down, Cal! I m coming now.
But he isn t. He s sitting on the edge of my bed and sliding the drawer 
open with one finger. Inside are pages and pages of words I ve written 
about my list. My thoughts on the things I ve already done – sex, yes, 
drugs, breaking the law – and my plans for the rest. It s going to freak him 
out if he reads what I intend to do for number five today. There s the rustle 
of paper, the shift of the elastic band. It sounds very loud. I struggle to sit 
up in order to jump out of the wardrobe and wrestle him to the ground, but 
Cal saves me by opening the bedroom door. Dad fumbles the papers back 
into the drawer, slams it shut. 
Can t I have any peace? he says. Not even for five minutes?

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136
Were you looking at Tessa s stuff?
Is it any business of yours?
It is if I tell her.
Oh for God s sake, give me a break! Dad s footsteps pound down the 
stairs. Cal follows him. 
I clamber out of the wardrobe and rub life back into my legs. I can feel 
the curdle of sluggish blood at my knee, and my foot has gone completely 
dead. I hobble over to the bed and plonk myself down just as Cal comes 
back in. 
He looks at me in surprise. Dad said you weren t here.
m not.
Yeah, you are!
Keep your voice down. Where s he gone?
Cal shrugs. He s in the kitchen with Mum. I hate him. He just called 
me a bugger and then he said the f-word.
Are they talking about me?
Yeah, and they won t let me watch the telly!
We creep down the stairs and peer over the banister. Dad s perched 
on a bar stool in the middle of the kitchen. He looks clumsy up there 
digging around in his trouser pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. Mum 
stands with her back against the fridge watching him. 
When did you start smoking again? she says. She s wearing jeans 
and has tied her hair back so that strands of it hang loose around her face. 
She looks young and pretty as she passes him a saucer. 

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137
Dad lights the cigarette and blows smoke across the room. m sorry, 
it looks like I got you here under false pretences. He looks confused for a 
moment, as if he doesn t know what to say next. I just thought you could 
talk some sense into her.
Where do you reckon she s gone this time?
Knowing her, she s probably on her way to the airport!
Mum chuckles, and it s strange because it makes her seem more alive 
than Dad somehow. He smiles grimly at her from his stool, runs a hand 
over his hair. m bloody knackered.
I can see that.
The boundaries change all the time. One minute she doesn t want 
anyone near her, then she wants to be held for hours. She won t leave the 
house for days, then disappears when I m least expecting it. This list of hers 
is doing my head in.
You know, Mum says, the only really right thing anyone could do 
would be to make her well again, and none of us can do that.
He looks at her very intently. m not sure how much more I can 
manage by myself. Some mornings I can hardly bear to open my eyes.
Cal nudges me. Shall I gob at him? he whispers. 
Yeah. Get it in his cup.
He gathers spit in his mouth and gobs it out hard. His aim s rubbish. It 
barely makes it through the door; most of it just slimes down his chin and 
onto the hall carpet. 
I roll my eyes at him and gesture for him to follow me. We go back 
upstairs to my room. 

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138
Sit on the floor by the door, I tell him. Put your hands over your face 
and don t let either of them in.
What re you going to do?
m getting dressed.
Then what are you going to do?
I take off my pyjamas, step into my best knickers and ease myself into 
the silk dress I bought on my shopping spree with Cal. I rub the fizz of pins 
and needles from my feet and pull on my strappy shoes. 
Cal says, Do you want to see my Megazord? You ll have to come to 
my room because it s defending a city and if I move it, everyone will die.
I get my coat from the back of the chair. m in a bit of a hurry 
actually.
He peeps at me between his fingers. That s your adventuring dress!
Yeah.
He stands up, blocking the door. Can I come?
No.
Please. I hate it here.
No.
I leave my phone because they can trace you from that. I stuff the 
papers from the drawer in my coat pocket. I ll chuck them in a bin 
somewhere later. See, Dad, how things disappear in front of your eyes? 
Before I send him downstairs, I bribe Cal. He knows exactly how many 
magic tricks he can buy with a tenner, and understands he ll get written out 
of my will if he ever squeals I was here. 

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139
I wait until I hear him down there, then I follow slowly behind. I pause 
on the turn of the stair, not only for breath, but also to look through the 
window over the flat of the lawn, to brush a finger along the wall, to 
encircle a spindle of the banisters, to smile at the photos at the top of the 
stairs. 
In the kitchen, Cal squats on the floor in front of Mum and Dad and 
simply stares at them. 
Did you want something? Dad says. 
I want to listen.
Sorry, it s grown-up talk.
I want something to eat then.
You ve just had half a packet of biscuits.
ve got some chewing gum, Mum says. Do you want a bit of that?
She looks in her jacket pocket and hands it over. 
Cal stuffs the gum in his mouth, chews it thoughtfully, then says, 
When Tessa dies, can we go on holiday?
Dad manages to look vicious and surprised at the same time. That s a 
terrible thing to say!
I don t even remember going to Spain. It s the only time I ve been in 
an aeroplane and it was so long ago, it might not even be true.
Dad says, That s enough! and he goes to stand up, but Mum stops 
him. 
It s all right, she says, and she turns to Cal. Tessa s been sick for a 
long time, hasn t she? You must feel really left out sometimes.
He grins. Yeah. Some mornings I can hardly bear to open my eyes.

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