Kite Spirit (7 page)

Kite watched the rain fall steadily. She couldn’t remember the last time it had rained on her birthday. It had been raining since Dawn’s funeral. It made her shudder now to think of
Dawn, who had always smelt so clean, like a spring day, festering in the stagnant water of her grave. No! She would not allow these gruesome visions to enter her mind. Kite walked over to her bed
and rested her head on her pillows, closed her eyes and tried to think of nothing.

No matter how long she lay there, just trying to breathe, she could not escape the endless whirring of her mind. She stood up, straightened her back and stretched out her arms
as if she was walking a tightrope towards the mirror. Her breath misted the glass and it was a relief not to have to face herself on her most miserable birthday ever.

Kite crossed the room and logged on to Facebook. There were plenty of birthday messages from people in her tutor group. She quickly scrolled through them. There was a sweet one from Jamila
– ‘I’m thinking of you, and my family makes Dua for you every day. I’ve got a little present. Let me know when you’re ready to see people.’ There were also
‘thinking of you’s from the running club. ‘Whenever you’re ready to come back, we’ll be waiting for you.’ No one was insensitive enough to actually say
‘Happy Birthday’ but they sent their ‘best wishes’. Next Kite read through the dozens of new messages on Dawn’s memorial page. If she’d really been this popular,
she would have had someone to talk to, thought Kite, closing down the screen and switching off her computer.
I don’t ever want to read this rubbish again.
She was actually looking
forward to getting in the car and driving away.

At that moment Ruby knocked on her door.

‘Brought you some breakfast.’

The smell of freshly baked bread filled the flat. Usually, at the first wholesome scent of it, Kite’s stomach would groan with hunger, but today it made her feel slightly sick. Ruby had
put together a case of things that Kite might need: cagoules, sweatshirts, jumpers, outward-bound gear. ‘You’ll be grateful for this, because from what I hear, it always rains up
there!’ Ruby’s voice was slightly strained and Kite tried not to meet her eyes – she knew her mother loved making a fuss of her on her birthday and she couldn’t bear to hear
anyone wish her happiness today.

‘Got enough running gear?’ asked Ruby, folding up a few Lycra tops and leggings from Kite’s drawers and packing them in the case.

Kite didn’t answer. Couldn’t Ruby tell that she had no strength to walk, let alone run? It was as if she thought that running again would cure her. Of what? Dawn finishing herself
off in her bedroom downstairs?

Ruby sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around her daughter’s shoulders; the strength of her perfume made Kite cough. She pulled away sharply, but Ruby caught hold of her hand, refusing
to let go.

‘Let’s just sit together, darlin’, for a while. How about I do your nails, like we always do? Look! I’ve gone delicate turquoise; this is the exact colour of the blanket
I wrapped you in when you were born!’ She fluttered her fingers towards Kite.

Kite flinched.

‘Sorry. I’m not in the mood.’

‘I know you don’t want me to, but I think it’s wrong not to at least mark your sixteenth birthday. There’s only one thing I have to give to you.’

‘Why can’t you just leave me alone?’ Kite’s voice was shrill and full of anger.

‘You know this is hard for all of us.’ Kite noticed that her mother’s eyes were bloodshot as she looked back at her from the doorway. Seth always said that Ruby was warm enough
to break the iciest heart, and at that moment Kite realized how selfish she was being: it was Ruby who needed to mark her birthday, more than she did. She reminded herself how much she regretted
being so off with Seth yesterday and relented.

‘OK,’ she sighed. ‘Bring it through!’

For sixteen years this moment had been just between the two of them. Ruby reappeared in the doorway, her hands behind her back, unable to hide the size of her diamond-shaped parcel. Kite felt
nothing inside, not the usual bubbling up of excitement, or the ridiculous urgency she’d always felt as soon as she held the new kite in her hands; to run with it and watch it soar through
the sky. Since Dawn had moved into Fairview her ritual had been to call for her to fly her kite with her on her birthday morning.

‘Come on, darlin’.’ Ruby laid a hand on Kite’s arm as she listlessly unwrapped the first layer of bright yellow tissue paper.

In front of her was a kite unlike any of the others in her collection. She ran her fingers over what looked like a patchwork of tiny triangular pieces of parachute silk. Handwritten into each
coloured panel in gold and silver were birthday wishes from people from all parts of her life, here and in St Kitts. Ruby’s sparkling fingernails traced over the many messages that she must
have spent weeks collecting and sewing together.

‘Happy Birthday, my beauty,’ read the message from Grandma Grace.

‘Go crazy, girl!’ her cousin Jai wrote, in his so-laid-back-it-was-almost-lying-down, spidery handwriting.

On one triangle was written: ‘To our wonderful daughter, our Kite Spirit, on your 16th birthday, love Ruby and Seth xx’.

Ruby hugged her tight as she read her own message and for a moment Kite closed her eyes and allowed herself to be comforted.

‘There are loads more messages,’ Ruby encouraged her, and for her mother’s sake only Kite opened her eyes and read on.

‘You turn my world! Love Mali xxx’

‘Who’s Mali?’ Ruby asked, smiling as she read the message at the same time as Kite. ‘I sent a few triangles and pens in a packet down to Circus Space and this is what
came back.’ Well, they
had
been sort of going out together – ‘sort of’ was actually the only way she had ever been out with a boy. It didn’t seem worth
spending so much time with someone unless you really cared and, the truth is, she had never felt that way about anyone yet.

‘Just someone at Circus Space,’ she muttered.

Reading this now, she wondered what Mali thought of her for not being in touch; he’d been messaging her on Facebook and she just hadn’t replied. She’d let her phone run out of
charge ages ago because she couldn’t stand to see Dawn’s name on it. What do you do with the text messages from your best friend when she’s not here any more? Deleting them would
be like erasing her. Anyway, Kite hadn’t seen any recent messages from Mali – no birthday wishes on Facebook this morning – so she assumed that he had finally given up on her.

Kite read on.

‘We have an appointment on the cloud swing! Love Annalisa x’

Ruby attempted to skip the next message, gliding over it. But the second that Kite recognized the careful handwriting, she moved Ruby’s hand aside to reveal . . .

‘Happy Birthday, “Thithter”. Here’s to flying for your 16th! Love Dawn X’

‘I got everyone to sign the silk ages ago so that I’d have time to sew it together,’ explained Ruby.

It was all too much for Kite.

‘All history now.’ She spat the bitter words at Ruby.

‘I thought about taking Dawn’s message out, but that didn’t feel right either . . .’

They sat in silence for a while. ‘Thank you,’ Kite whispered, softening as she took in the work that Ruby must have put into making this. She squeezed Ruby’s hand before
getting up and walking around the room to examine her collection of kites. A different colour for every year, but there was nothing that came close to this exquisite hand-made multicoloured
creation.

‘The material’s from recycled carnival costumes.’ Ruby smoothed her hands over the 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 that she was moving
flat. Then a removal van had appeared in the courtyard below. Ruby and Kite had popped down with tea and home-made muffins to find that it was Dawn Jenkins moving in, and they had giggled till they
cried to find that they, who were already inseparable, were to be neighbours!

‘Now we really are like thithters!’ Dawn joked, even though, by then she had lost her lisp.

Ruby placed an arm around Hazel’s narrow shoulders and steered her towards the sofa. ‘I’ll make us some tea,’ she soothed as she went through to the kitchen.

‘I made her tea in a flask and left a croissant on the table for her breakfast,’ whispered Hazel. ‘You see, I was on the early shift and Jimmy was on nights and he was coming
in just after school time. He was hoping to get back earlier, but it was all over by then anyway.’ Hazel was rocking gently in her seat, clasping the doll in her lap as if it was a baby. Kite
wasn’t even sure she was talking to her. ‘When the school called me to say she hadn’t arrived, I told them I’d set out her uniform all washed and ironed, and her breakfast
– you know I always leave a good breakfast . . . and a new pencil case with the fine tip pens in . . . she says . . . she said . . . made her writing the neatest, and a little good-luck card
because God help me, I didn’t want to wake her.’ Her voice cracked.

Kite leaned forward in her seat, searching desperately for something kind to say to Hazel, whose hands were now clasped tight to her face. The skin on her hands and arms was rubbed raw and her
eczema had opened into bloody cracks between her fingers.

‘It’s true, you always left breakfast for her,’ was the only thing Kite could think of to say, but her words seemed to calm Hazel down.

‘I’m sorry, love; I came to wish you well, not upset you.’ Hazel took a deep breath to compose herself again. ‘I’ve been going through Dawn’s things,’
she whispered, placing her hand in her jacket pocket, ‘and I found this.’ She handed Kite a sealed white envelope. ‘It’s your birthday card!’ Hazel’s voice
sounded strange and distant. She looked down at her sore hands and Kite watched as she clasped and unclasped the cracked tips of her fingers. ‘It was under her pillow, and I’m afraid we
had to open it. With all of this autopsy business, the police said she might have left a message for you. Anyway, it turns out it’s just a birthday card. I thought you should have
it!’

This was what made Kite feel worse than anything: the sense that when people looked at her they thought that she might hold some of the clues to why Dawn had done what she did. If Dawn had
confided in her, did they think she would have kept it to herself? She heard it in all the questions she was asked . . . in Ruby’s ‘If there’s anything, I mean
anything
,
you want to talk about . . .’ In Miss Choulty’s kindly ‘You are not to blame for anything’. And now, worst of all, she read it in the searchlight questioning of
Hazel’s eyes. Kite held her hand out for the card and for a moment Hazel kept hold of the envelope, as if she was reluctant to let go.