What Came Before He Shot Her

never have again— was Vanessa Campbell.

            IN HIS QUEST for physical perfection—which the title Mr. Universe would affirm—Dix D’Court needed financial support, and so he had gathered sponsors. Without them, he would have been doomed to squeezing out time for his power lifting before or after work or at the weekends, and this would be when the gym was most crowded. He’d have had little real hope of attaining his dream of the world’s most magnificently sculpted male body if he had to pursue it that way, so early on he’d gathered around him individuals who were willing to fi nance his endeavour. He had to meet them occasionally, to bring them up to date on the recent competitions he’d entered and won, and he had inadvertently scheduled one of these meetings for the night of Toby’s birthday. Once he learned of this, Dix wanted to cancel his meeting. But allowing this cancellation suggested another step taken towards the sort of commitment that Kendra was trying to avoid, so she told him that the birthday needed to be a private, family affair. The message in this was implicit: Dix was not family. He shot her a look that said Have it your own way. Privately, however, he told Joel he would be there directly after his sponsors’ meeting.

From this remark, Joel knew not to tell Kendra that Dix would be turning up. There were depths between his aunt and Dix that he could not plumb, and he had other worries anyway. Primary among these was his failure to find a “Happy Birthday” sign to hang upon the kitchen window. It was bad enough not to have the family’s old tin carousel any longer to set in the middle of the table, but to have no dramatic way to wish the birthday boy happiness felt to Joel like a more signifi cant blow. For even Glory Campbell had managed to hang on to the children’s birthday sign, resurrecting it—more tattered every year— from wherever she stowed it when it wasn’t in use. This sign with its grommets, which allowed it to be hung with haphazard cheer any which way, had gone the way of most of Glory’s nonsartorial possessions prior to her departure for Jamaica: She’d tossed it in the rubbish without Joel’s knowledge, and only when he looked through his own belongings did he realise it was no longer a possession of the immediate Campbell clan.

He didn’t have enough cash to get another one, so he’d had to settle for making one himself, which he did by using notebook paper. He took one sheet for each letter and he coloured them with a red pencil borrowed from Mr. Eastbourne at Holland Park School. On Toby’s birthday he was ready to hang them on the window, but there was nothing to use as adhesive save a book of first-class postage stamps.

            He would have preferred Sellotape or Blu Tac. But he lacked the funds to purchase that as well. So he used the stamps, reckoning they could be glued to envelopes afterwards, as long as he was careful to put them on the window in such a way as to make them easy to get off later. That was how he began to explain matters to his aunt when she arrived home after work on the day in question, exclaiming, “What the hell!” as she saw the handmade sign and how it had been attached to the window. She dropped her carrier bags on the work top and turned to Joel, who’d followed her into the kitchen with his explanation ready. But she stopped him in the midst of it by putting her arm around his shoulders.

            “You did a good thing,” she said into the top of his head. Her voice was husky, and it occurred to Joel that she’d softened a bit since Dix had started coming around number 84 Edenham Way, especially since the day they’d all trooped up to the Rainbow Cafe to meet his dad and his mum, the latter of whom was more than generous with dollops of hot custard when it involved an order of her apple pie. Kendra unpacked the carrier bags, which turned out to be holding takeaway curry. She said, “Where’s Ness?” and then called up the stairs, where the television sounds indicated cartoons were playing, “Mr. Toby Campbell? You get into this kitchen straightaway. You hear?”

            Joel shrugged, his answer to the whereabouts of Ness. She’d been around more often in the past few days, a brooding presence licking its wounds when she wasn’t out and about with Six and Natasha. Joel didn’t know where she’d taken herself off to. He hadn’t seen her since yesterday evening.

            “She knows what day this is, doesn’t she?” Kendra asked.

            “S’pose,” Joel said. “I di’n’t tell her. I ain’t seen her.”

            “Haven’t,” Kendra said.

            “I haven’t seen her.” He added, “Have you?” because he couldn’t help it. So much still the child, it seemed to him that, as the adult, Kendra could have done something about the problem that was Ness. Kendra eyed him, and she read him as well as if he’d spoken. “What?” she said. “Tie her down? Lock her up in a room?” She removed plates from the cupboard and handed them to him, along with cutlery. He started to set the table. “Time comes, Joel, when a person decides what her life’s going to look like. Ness’s decided.”

            Joel said nothing because he couldn’t articulate what he believed since what  he believed rose from the history he shared with his sister as well as what he felt about her. What he felt was longing: for the Ness she had been. What he believed was that she missed who she’d been as much as he did, but had even less hope of getting her back. Toby clattered down the stairs, his lava lamp under his arm. He set it in the middle of the table and extended its flex to plug it into a point. He climbed into a chair and rested his chin on his hands to watch the shining orange globules begin their rhythmic rising and falling.

            Kendra said to him, “Got your favourite here, Mr. Campbell. Naan with raisins, almonds, and honey. You ready for that?”

            Toby looked over at her, his eyes bright at the thought of the bread. Kendra smiled and took from her shoulder bag an envelope with three foreign stamps affixed to it. She handed this over to Toby, saying,

            “Looks like your gran didn’t forget your special day, either. This came all the way from Jamaica”—she made no mention of the fact that she’d phoned her mother three times about sending it and had herself included the five-pound note Toby was going to find when he wrestled it open—“so open it up and let’s see what she says.”

            Joel helped Toby ease the large card from its envelope. He scooped up the limp five-pound note that fluttered to the floor. He said, “Hey, lookit this, Tobe! Y’r rich,” but Toby was studying a Polaroid picture Glory had sent as well. In it, she and George stood with a string of strangers, arms slung around one another and bottles of Red Stripe hoisted in the air. Glory wore a halter top—not a wise choice for a woman her age—a baseball cap with “Cardinals” written on it, shorts, and no shoes.

            “Looks like she’s found her niche,” Kendra said when she took the picture from Toby and gave it a look. “Who’re all these people?

            George’s clan? And she sent you five pounds, Toby? Well, that was nice, wasn’t it? What’re you going to do with all that dosh?”

            Toby smiled happily and fingered the note, which Joel handed to him. It was more money than he’d ever had at any one time in his entire life.

            Ness joined them soon after that, right at the point when Joel was deciding what would do as a special plate that Toby could eat from on his special day. He’d settled for a tin tray painted with the face of Father Christmas, which he unearthed from beneath two pie tins and a baking dish. Dust grimed the edges, but a quick wash would remedy that.

            Ness hadn’t forgotten Toby’s birthday either. She arrived bringing what she announced was a magic wand. It was made of clear plastic and filled with sparkles, which glowed brightly when someone shook it. She made no mention of where she’d got it, which was just as well since she’d pinched it from the very same shop in Portobello Road where Joel had purchased the lava lamp.

            Toby grinned when Ness demonstrated how the magic wand worked. He said, “Wicked.” He shook it happily. “C’n I make a wish when it’s shook?”

            “You c’n do whatever you want,” Ness told him. “It’s your birthday, innit.”

            “And since it’s his birthday,” Kendra said, “I got something as well . . .”

            She disappeared up the stairs at a trot, returning with a long package that she handed to Toby. This he unwrapped to discover a snorkel and an underwater mask, perhaps as useless a gift as any child has ever received from a well-meaning relation. Kendra said helpfully, “They go with your life ring, Toby. Where is it, anyway? Why’ve you not got it on?”

            Joel and Toby hadn’t told her, of course, about the day they’d had the confrontation with Neal Wyatt, the day on which the life ring had taken its near fatal wound. Since that time, Joel had attempted a repair with glue, but it hadn’t held well. Consequently, the life ring was pretty much done for.