The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes Read online

  When the plane landed, as he had only carry-on luggage he walked straight through Customs to where Grace was waiting. Her eyes filled when she saw him and they held each other tightly for a long time.

  ‘The car’s this way,’ she said eventually.

  ‘Where’s Juliet?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s at ours at the moment but Ma wants her with Rabbit when . . .’ She didn’t finish the sentence.

  ‘How are the boys?’ he asked.

  ‘Ryan’s such a lunatic, we’ll be lucky if he doesn’t burn the house down. Bernard needs three grands’ worth of orthodontistry if he ever wants to eat anything chewier than porridge. Stephen’s failing his first year in college and Jeffrey is clinically obese.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You need money?’

  ‘No, thank you. The diet we’ve put Jeffrey on is saving us a fortune.’ She smiled at her brother and he laughed a little, but then they remembered Rabbit was dying and their smiles faded. They were silent until they were nearly home.

  ‘How long?’ he asked.

  She shook her head as though she couldn’t believe what she was saying. ‘Weeks.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘She was fine,’ Grace said. ‘The palliative chemo was going great but then she fell over last week and her bone snapped and . . .’

  ‘Does she know?’

  ‘She knows, but has it really sunk in? They told us last night and moved her into the hospice today.’

  ‘And Ma?’

  ‘Ma is Ma. She’s barely left Rabbit’s side. She’s not sleeping, eating or drinking but she’s insisting everyone else does. She’s in fighting form. She’s Ma.’

  ‘And Da?’

  ‘Not talking.’

  ‘And you, Grace?’

  ‘I don’t know, Davey.’ She was clearly struggling not to cry.

  When they got home, Davey saw his da standing at the window. Grace used her key so Jack Hayes remained where he was, only turning to face Davey when he entered the room.

  ‘Da.’

  ‘Son.’

  They nodded at one another.

  ‘Have you had your tea?’ Grace asked.

  ‘I had a biscuit,’ her father said.

  ‘I’ll put something together.’

  ‘No, it’s all right. I’ll wait for your mammy.’

  ‘She could be late.’

  ‘I’ll wait anyway.’

  ‘OK.’

  Jack gazed at his son. ‘You look well,’ he said.

  ‘I’m grand.’

  ‘Good. Would you like some tea?’

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘All right.’ He walked towards the kitchen, his children following. He insisted on making the tea himself so Grace and Davey sat together at the table, watching him. He had aged ten years in two days. He was pale and seemed suddenly ancient, even slightly doddery. Until now, seventy-seven-year-old Jack had looked young for his age. He was never much of a drinker, had no time for smoking and had enjoyed sport of all types well into his early sixties. In later years he’d taken to bowls and had become captain of the team. The man muttering to himself ‘Where will I find milk?’ looked nothing like their father. He was a shadow of himself.

  Nobody spoke until he finally placed the tea on the table. He sat with his children but focused on his mug.

  ‘How’s America?’ Jack asked, after what seemed like an eternity of quiet.

  ‘She’s good,’ Davey said.

  ‘And Casey?’

  ‘She’s fine.’

  ‘That last one was a great album. I play it in the car all the time.’

  ‘Thanks, Da.’

  ‘And her lovely wife Mabel?’

  ‘She’s great and so are the kids. It’s all good.’

  ‘And that other stuff in New York, how’s it going?’

  ‘I did some studio work for an up-and-coming act, a soul singer. He’s got the talent and the songs, now it’s just publicity and luck.’

  ‘You’ll go on the road with him?’

  ‘Only if it doesn’t clash with Casey.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What’s the weather like?’

  ‘I’ve come from Boston. It’s raining there.’

  ‘It was snowing here last week. Snow in April, never thought I’d see that. Feels like the end of the world.’ He pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘I’m going for a lie-down. It’s good to have you home, Davey.’

  ‘Thanks, Da.’

  After Jack had left the room, Davey lifted his mug. ‘The end of the world, huh?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Grace said, and they finished their tea in silence.

  Molly

  Molly was in the canteen when she bumped into Rabbit’s consultant oncologist. Mr Dunne, a short, fit, bald man in his forties, was queuing with a middle-aged woman, who had frizzy black hair, the kind you’d see on a rocker in the eighties. She was wearing a dense wool dress, thick tights with rosebuds on them, a cardigan that matched the tights, with the same rosebuds, and the kind of clunky shoes you’d only see in documentaries about psychiatric patients in the last century.

  ‘Molly, I’ve just arrived. How’s Rabbit?’ Mr Dunne grabbed an orange.

  ‘Sleeping mostly.’

  ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there yesterday to talk to you myself.’

  ‘Your friend did a fine job,’ Molly said.

  ‘I’m so very sorry, Molly,’ he said, and she could tell he meant it, even though he dealt with death every day.

  She tried to smile. ‘Thank you, but all is not lost.’

  He looked from Molly to his friend and back to Molly. Clearly he was unsure as to whether or not she realized how grave Rabbit’s condition was.

  Molly registered his unease. ‘She’s here today, isn’t she?’ she said, and he seemed to relax.

  ‘I’ll be in to see her in about an hour if you’re still around?’

  ‘Where else would I be?’

  ‘Nowhere but here,’ said the woman with the clunky shoes.

  ‘This is Rita Brown. She’s a medical social worker,’ Mr Dunne said.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Molly. I’m here for you and your family if you need me,’ Rita said.

  ‘Thanks,’ Molly said, and moved away. She’d decided against a mug of tea: her stomach was playing up. She looked around for the toilets. Quick, quick, quick, Molly, don’t have an accident. That’s all you bloody need, Arctic winds and no knickers.

  She made it to the Ladies, then spent some time washing her hands under piping-hot water. The soap was a luxury brand, which smelt delicious on her hands, not the antibacterial cleanser that hospitals supplied. She looked at herself in the mirror. Molly had always been plump but her weight had served her well in old age until now. Her skin had always been soft and flawless but it was dull now and her eyes were dark holes in her head, surrounded by firm creases. At seventy-two, she asked herself, When did I get so old? Her hair had been grey for many years and she usually added a little silver blonde to it, but since Rabbit’s fall and her subsequent diagnosis, Molly had had little time for anything or anyone else. Now the roots looked bad and Rabbit kept reminding her that she needed her hair done – but how could she spend a few hours at a hairdresser’s when her youngest child needed her most?

  She didn’t notice Rita come in as she examined her hair and tried to work out whether or not a hat would be appropriate indoor wear.

  ‘I can have a hairdresser come to the room for you,’ Rita said, making Molly jump.

  ‘No, no, it’s fine.’

  ‘Nothing’s fine, Molly,’ Rita said.

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘So I’ll arrange for a hairdresser to come to the room. It will be tomorrow, if that’s OK? She can do something for Rabbit too.’

  ‘Rabbit’s head is shaved. Her hair never grew back properly.’

  ‘She’ll give her a head massage.’

  ‘She might be too tired.’

&
nbsp; ‘We’ll see how she is tomorrow.’

  ‘OK, thanks,’ Molly said, and began to leave.

  ‘Molly,’ Rita said, and Molly turned back. ‘I’m here if you want to talk.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ She left the room.

  Rabbit was still sleeping when she got back, but Davey and Grace were there.

  ‘Hiya, Ma,’ Davey said.

  ‘Hiya, son.’ She walked up to him and held him close, exhaling loudly as she rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Still can’t get used to the short hair.’

  ‘It’s been ten years, Ma.’

  ‘It seems like yesterday.’ She looked from him to Rabbit asleep in the bed. ‘She’ll be awake soon.’

  ‘Da’s coming in tomorrow.’ Grace said.

  Molly nodded. ‘He’s not able. He keeps crying in her face. If she told him to fuck off once yesterday, she told him to fuck off a hundred times.’

  Davey laughed a little. ‘Only in this family,’ he said.

  They sat down, Grace and Davey on the sofa, Molly in the recliner chair. ‘Did your da eat?’

  ‘He’s waiting for you,’ Grace said.

  ‘I’ll pick up a curry. Speaking of which, how’s Jeffrey?’

  ‘Starving.’

  ‘He reminds me of you, Grace. When you were five you used to eat dirt – I was worried you were simple for a while. Thank God it was just greed.’

  ‘Thanks, Ma, I feel so much better about things now,’ Grace said. ‘If you want I can make something for Da instead.’

  ‘I’m not sure he’ll have the stomach for anything,’ Davey said. ‘He looks shook, Ma.’

  ‘And the rest of us don’t?’ She stared at his tired pale face. ‘We’re all shadows, son. How could we not be?’ Her dark eyes filled but the tears dared not fall.

  Rabbit woke when Michelle was changing her Fentanyl patch. ‘There you are,’ she said, as Rabbit’s eyes slowly opened. ‘Your sister and brother are here.’

  Grace and Davey stood up and met her gaze with smiles painted on their faces. Davey even waved at her, like a contestant on a quiz show.

  ‘Jaysus, I’m so bad my siblings have turned into two big goons,’ Rabbit whispered.

  ‘At least I didn’t wave,’ Grace said.

  ‘Fuck off, Grace,’ Davey said, in as playful a tone as he could muster.

  ‘Welcome home, Davey,’ Rabbit said.

  ‘Don’t want to be here,’ he admitted.

  ‘You and me both.’

  ‘How’s your pain?’ Michelle asked.

  ‘A seven.’

  ‘The fresh patch should kick in soon. If it doesn’t, you call me.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’ll be leaving in half an hour, but before I go I’ll introduce you to Jacinta. You’ll like her – she fancies herself as a singer, so, if you want a laugh, get her to sing “Delilah”.’

  ‘She’s that bad?’ Rabbit asked.

  ‘She makes that chicken-stuffer on The X Factor look like Justin Timberlake,’ Michelle said, ‘but she’s good at the day job and she’s a great old egg.’ She winked. ‘Jacinta’ll look after you. Now, how’s the bowels?’

  ‘Whistling “Dixie”.’

  ‘I’ll take that to mean they’re grand. I’ll leave you to it.’ Michelle walked out.

  ‘She’s nice,’ Rabbit said.

  ‘And pretty,’ Grace said. Davey’s eyes were following Michelle’s arse out of the door.

  ‘Slow down. You’re only here five minutes,’ Rabbit said.

  ‘Don’t be making enemies of Rabbit’s nurses or I’ll murder you,’ Molly said.

  Rabbit laughed. ‘Yeah, there’ll be two of us in the hole.’ Everyone stopped dead. It was a classic tumbleweed moment. ‘Too much?’ she asked.

  ‘Too much,’ Grace replied.

  ‘Hey, Davey,’ Rabbit changed the subject, ‘I’ve been back in time.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. Back to our wall, back to the garage. I could see you beating the drum, the boys kicking it on guitar, bass, piano, and Johnny singing. I swear I stayed there until you’d all rehearsed every song twice.’

  ‘You always did.’ He took her withered hand in his.

  ‘Lying on the cold floor, daydreaming to your music – those were some of the best times I’ve ever had.’

  ‘That’s not at all depressing,’ he joked.

  ‘It was lovely, actually,’ she said.

  It was then that Grace brought up Juliet. The subject was delicate and Molly dreaded Rabbit’s reaction.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ Rabbit said. ‘Bring her tomorrow.’

  ‘But what should I tell her?’ Grace was unable to hide the tremor in her voice.

  ‘Tell her that her ma loves her.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘Grace, please.’

  ‘She’s asking.’

  ‘I don’t care what they say. I’m not giving up.’ Rabbit’s eyes were suddenly drowning, and tears flowed as though a dam had burst inside her.

  Suddenly she was choking, and Molly was on to it, lifting her up, rubbing her back and soothing her. ‘There, there, my girl, no more tears. We’ll fight and fight and fight.’ She stroked and kissed Rabbit’s head, and when the choking had passed, she laid her down and stroked her cheek until Rabbit’s tears slowly stopped. ‘Go to sleep now, love,’ she said, and Rabbit’s eyes closed. She let out a sigh and was asleep as suddenly as she had woken.

  Grace and Davey were horrified. Although Grace was forty-six and her brother forty-four, they were reduced to helpless children standing at the end of their little sister’s bed, unsure what to say or do and desperately willing their mammy to make everything all right.

  Grace

  ‘Lenny?’ she shouted to her husband when she arrived at home with ten bags of shopping.

  Nine-year-old Jeffrey appeared in the sitting-room door. ‘He’s across the road looking at Paddy Noonan’s new car – well, it’s not new, it’s a 2008, but it’s new to Noonan.’ He took a bag from her, leaving her with the other nine. He looked into the bag. ‘It’s all green in here,’ he said sadly.

  ‘Get used to green because, until you’ve dropped two stone, it’s all you’re going to be eating and playing on.’ She walked through the hall and into the kitchen.

  ‘Harsh,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Where are your brothers?’

  ‘Stephen’s still in college. Ryan’s in Deco’s and Bernard is upstairs playing Nintendo.’

  ‘Jesus Christ! Ryan is supposed to come home straight after school.’

  ‘He told me da he’d a school project to do with Deco.’

  ‘Lying little toerag,’ she muttered.

  Jeffrey sat opposite her at the counter while she put away the shopping. ‘That’s what I said but Da’s a sucker.’

  ‘Stop watching me,’ Grace snapped.

  ‘Wha’?’

  ‘You’re following the food, Jeffrey, and I’m telling you, I’ll have every morsel accounted for. If one morsel goes missing, I’ll chase you with a hammer.’

  ‘Jaysus, Ma, there’s something wrong with you.’ He got down from his stool.

  ‘Where’s Juliet?’ she asked.

  ‘Where she always is.’

  ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘Don’t know. She won’t talk to me.’

  ‘OK. Well, get your tracksuit on. We’re going for a run before dinner.’

  ‘Wha’?’ Jeffrey was evidently appalled.

  ‘You heard me.’

  ‘I’m not running anywhere with you.’

  ‘Oh yes you are.’

  ‘I’ll be laughed out of it if the lads see us.’

  ‘Well, they’ll be the ones who are sorry when you lose all the weight and all the girls want you.’

  ‘Girls are disgusting.’

  ‘They’re disgusting when you’re nine, but by the time you’re thirteen, they’ll be one of the few things you think about.’

  ‘Not if I’m gay.’

  ‘Well, son, if you’re gay, trust me when
I say the body is everything.’

  ‘You’re so mean!’ he shouted.

  ‘Get up those stairs and get your tracksuit on.’ She went into the sitting room and sank down beside Juliet on the sofa. The TV was on in the background but Juliet wasn’t watching it. Instead she was buried in a book, which she closed.

  Twelve-year-old Juliet looked a lot like her mother had at that age. She had long mousy hair, although hers was layered and had a bounce to it. She was stick-thin and had a pretty little face – no spectacles, but she scrunched up her nose as her mother did when she was thinking. ‘Did you see her?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, she’s all settled.’

  ‘When can I see her?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘Why not tonight?’

  ‘She’s tired.’

  ‘She’s always tired.’

  ‘I know, but tomorrow, OK?’

  ‘When is she coming home?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Grace lied.

  ‘I can take care of her,’ Juliet said.

  ‘Of course you can.’

  ‘I know what to do.’

  ‘I know you do, darling.’

  ‘So she should be home with me. She doesn’t need a convalescent home.’

  That lie had tripped off Grace’s tongue the night before, when she was completely at a loss as to what to say to the child whose mother had just been told she was dying.

  ‘Let’s see what happens tomorrow,’ Grace said.

  Juliet nodded. ‘I just want to go home.’

  Grace said nothing, just flicked Juliet’s hair off her face and talked about what she was planning for dinner. Juliet listened politely, waiting to return to her book.

  Grace left the room in time to see Jeffrey come down the stairs in a tracksuit that was two sizes too small. ‘Jeffrey.’

  ‘Wha’?’

  ‘Is that a joke?’

  ‘It’s the only tracksuit I have.’

  ‘Put your jeans back on.’

  Delighted, he clapped his hands. ‘Deadly.’

  ‘You’re running in them.’