Before I die Jenny Downham

Thirty-nine 
Zoey s sewing. I didn t know she could. A lemon-coloured baby suit is 
draped across her knees. She threads the needle, one eye shut, pulls the 
thread through and rolls a knot between licked fingers. Who taught her 
that? For minutes I watch her, and she sews as if this is how it s always 
been. Her blonde hair is piled high, her neck at a tender angle. She bites 
her bottom lip in concentration. 
Live, I tell her. You will live, won t you?
She looks up suddenly, sucks bright blood from her finger. Shit! she 
says. I didn t know you were awake.
It makes me chuckle. You re blooming.
m fat! She heaves herself upright in the chair and thrusts her belly 
at me to prove it. m as big as a bear.
d love to be that baby deep inside her. To be small and healthy. 
Instructions for Zoey 
Don t tell your daughter the planet is rotting. Show her lovely things. 
Be a giant for her, even though your parents couldn t do it for you. Don t 
ever get involved with any boy who doesn t love you.
When the baby s born, do you think you ll miss the life you had 
before?

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272
Zoey looks at me very solemnly. You should get dressed. It s not good 
for you to sit around in your pyjamas all day.
I lean back on the pillows and look at the corners of the room. When I 
was a kid, I always wanted to live on the ceiling – it looked so clean and 
uncluttered, like the top of a cake. Now it just reminds me of bed sheets. 
I feel like I ve let you down. I won t be able to babysit or anything.
Zoey says, It s really nice outside. Shall I ask Adam or your dad to 
carry you out?
Birds joust on the lawn. Ragged clouds fringe a blue sky. This sun 
lounger is warm, as if it s been absorbing sunlight for hours. 
Zoey s reading a magazine. Adam s stroking my feet through my 
socks. 
Listen to this, Zoey says. This won the funniest joke of the year 
competition.
Number fourteen, a joke. 
A man goes to the doctor s and says, “I ve got a strawberry stuck up 
my bottom.” “Oh,” says the doctor, “I ve got some cream for that.”
I laugh a lot. I m a laughing skeleton. To hear us – Adam, Zoey and 
me – is like being offered a window to climb through. Anything could 
happen next. 
Zoey shoves her baby into my arms. Her name s Lauren.

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She s fat and sticky and drooling milk. She smells good. She waves her 
arms at me, snatching at air. Her little fingers with their half-moon nails 
pluck at my nose. 
Hello, Lauren.
I tell her how big and clever she is. I say all the silly things I imagine 
babies like to hear. And she looks back at me with fathomless eyes and 
gives a great big yawn. I can see right inside her little pink mouth. 
She likes you, Zoey says. She knows who you are.
I put Lauren Tessa Walker at my shoulder and swim my hand in circles 
over her back. I listen to her heart. She sounds careful, determined. She is 
ferociously warm. 
Under the apple tree, shadows dance. Sunlight sifts through the 
branches. A lawnmower drones far away. Zoey s still reading her magazine, 
slaps it down when she sees I m awake. 
You ve been asleep for ages, she tells me. 
I dreamed Lauren was born.
Was she gorgeous?
Of course.
Adam looks up and smiles at me. Hey, he says. 
Dad walks down the path filming us with his video camera. 
Stop it, I tell him. It s morbid.
He takes the camera back into the house, comes out with the recycling 
box and puts it by the gate. He dead-heads flowers. 

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274
Come and sit with us, Dad.
But he can t keep still. He goes back inside, returns with a bowl of 
grapes, an assortment of chocolate, glasses of juice. 
Anyone want a sandwich?
Zoey shakes her head. m all right with these Maltesers thanks.
I like the way her mouth puckers as she sucks them. 
Keep-death-away spells. 
Ask your best friend to read out the juicy bits from her magazine – the 
fashion, the gossip. Encourage her to sit close enough for you to touch her 
tummy, the amazing expanse of it. And when she has to go home, take a 
deep breath and tell her you love her. Because it s true. And when she 
leans over and whispers it back, hold onto her tight, because these are not 
words you would normally share. 
Make your brother sit with you when he gets back from school and go 
through every detail of his day, every lesson, every conversation, even 
what he had for dinner, until he s so bored he begs to be allowed to run off 
and play football with his friends in the park. 
Watch your mum kick off her shoes and massage her feet because her 
new job in the bookshop means she has to stand up all day and be polite to 
strangers. Laugh when she gives your dad a book because she gets a 
discount and can afford to be generous. 
Watch your dad kiss her cheek. Notice them smile. Know that 
whatever happens, they are your parents. 
Listen to your neighbour pruning her roses as shadows lengthen 
across the lawn. She s humming some old song and you re under a blanket 

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275
with your boyfriend. Tell him you re proud of him, because he made that 
garden grow and encouraged his mother to care about it. 
Study the moon. It s close and has a pink flare around it. Your 
boyfriend tells you it s an optical illusion, that it only seems big because of 
its angle to the earth. 
Measure yourself against it. 
And, at night, when you re carried back upstairs and another day is 
over, refuse to let your boyfriend sleep in the camp bed. Tell him you want 
to be held and don t be afraid that he might not want to, because if he says 
he will, then he loves you and that s all that matters. Wrap your legs with 
his. Listen to him sleep, his gentle breathing. 
And when you hear a sound, like the flapping of a kite getting closer, 
like the sails of a windmill slowly turning, say, Not yet, not yet.
Keep breathing. Just keep doing it. It s easy. In and out. 

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276
Forty 
The light begins to come back. The absolute dark fades at the edges. 
My mouth s dry. The grit of last night s medication lines my throat. 
Hey, Adam says. 
He s got a hard-on, apologizes for it with a shy smile, then opens the 
curtains and stands at the window looking out. Beyond him, the dull pink 
clouds of morning. 
You re going to be here for years without me, I tell him. 
He says, Shall I make us some breakfast?
Like a butler, he brings me things. A lemon ice lolly. A hot-water 
bottle. Slices of orange cut onto a plate. Another blanket. He puts cinnamon 
sticks to boil on the oven downstairs, because I want to smell Christmas. 
How did this happen so quickly? How did it really come true? 
please get into bed and climb on top of me with your warmth and 
wrap me with your arms and make it stop 
Mum s putting up a trellis, he says. First it was a herb garden, then 
roses, now she wants honeysuckle. I might go out and give her a hand 
when your dad comes to sit with you. Would that be OK?
Sure.
You don t fancy sitting outside again today?
No.

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277
I can t be bothered to move. The sun grinds into my brain and 
everything aches. 
this mad psycho tells everyone to get into a field and says I m going to 
pick one of you just one of you out of all of you to die and everyone s 
looking around thinking it s so unlikely to be me because there s thousands 
of us so statistically it s completely unlikely and the psycho walks up and 
down looking at everyone and when he gets near me he hesitates and he 
smiles and then he points right at me and says you re the one and the 
shock that it s me and yet of course it s me why wouldn t it be I knew all 
along 
Cal crashes in. Can I go out?
Dad sighs. Where?
Just out.
You need to be a bit more specific.
ll let you know when I get there.
Not good enough.
Everyone else is allowed randomly out.
m not interested in everyone else.
Wonderful rage as Cal stomps to the door. The bits of garden in his 
hair, the filth of his fingernails. His body able to yank the door open and 
slam it behind him. 
You re all such bloody bastards! he yells as he races down the stairs. 

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