The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes Page 5

  Grace’s birth had been a good one for Jack. Davey’s hadn’t been so good: he’d given them a little scare right at the end of Molly’s pregnancy so she had spent the last two weeks in the hospital leaving Grace to run circles around Jack.

  By then his own parents were dead; Molly’s father had died when she was still a child, and her mother was bananas so could not be trusted with a two-year-old. Jack was all Grace had in her mother’s absence and he couldn’t cope with that wilful child. He spent the day Molly went into labour running the legs off the child so she’d pass out after her dinner. They fought over fish fingers: Grace threw a tantrum and fell asleep five minutes after he’d locked her in her room, threatening through the closed door to run away and leave her there. The midwife rang the house with the news of his son, six pounds four ounces. He thanked her, collapsed in front of The Saint and was asleep before the first ad break.

  But Rabbit was different. She was in such a rush to come into the world that Molly insisted Jack drive through red lights. ‘If it’s safe to do it, do it!’ she screamed.

  ‘Are you mad, woman?’

  ‘The baby is coming, Jack.’

  ‘Ah, now, hold on a minute, Molly, would ya? I’m not having that.’

  ‘Oh, fine, why don’t I just cross my legs, then?’

  ‘Do you think that would work?’ He experienced fleeting hope.

  ‘Don’t make me hurt you,’ Molly said, then yelled at him to pull over.

  ‘Oh, Mother of God, hold it, Molly, hold it!’ he shouted, as he pulled into the forecourt of a Ford garage just off the Drumcondra road. It was nearly lunchtime and the garage was empty, save for one salesman and a wide-eyed kid, who was cleaning the cars until Jack’s Escort careered past him, knocking over his bucket and threatening his toes. The salesman, a Vincent Delaney, ran from the office to be met by Molly’s nether regions and Jack yelling, ‘I can see the head!’ Vincent promptly fainted. He only came round when Jack had Rabbit in his arms and Molly had covered herself with a coat. She instructed Vincent to call a fucking ambulance. Jack loved all his children equally, but he’d have been lying if he’d said that bringing his youngest into the world wasn’t the best day of his life.

  When she was first diagnosed with breast cancer, he read all there was to read on the subject and was content that she would be all right, which she was, until the next breast had to go. That was all right, too – Rabbit could live without breasts – but they’d found it in her liver too and he worried, because Google told him to, but the doctors were positive they could still beat it, until they’d found it in her lungs. That was when they began talking about living with cancer and controlling the disease, but they still had hope. Millions of people were living with cancer, they were told. It’s not ideal but it’s life, and Rabbit is such a trouper. Then Rabbit had fallen in her kitchen and her bone had snapped, and poor Juliet had found her in terrible distress. Within an hour of her admittance, they knew it was in her bones and that was the beginning of the end. Jack’s daughter had broken her leg and now he was losing her. As long as she was in the acute hospital, surely there were things they could do, but in transferring her to a hospice, they had given up on her.

  It had been like receiving a blow to the head. Jack couldn’t think straight because to do so would be to think the unthinkable. We’re losing her. She’s leaving us. It’s over . . . And that was simply impossible. No way, not my girl. I won’t have it. I WILL NOT HAVE IT. After his initial shocked silence, he had returned to the hospital and fought any doctor or nurse who made themselves available to speak to him. He’d begged them to keep her and treat her, experimentally, if necessary. ‘You can put cow bones in if you think it will help.’ He’d just wanted them to go on as they had for four years, but they wanted to stop and Molly was letting them. He had married a warrior. Molly had fought on the streets for the right to work after marriage; she had talked a man off a ledge while volunteering in the local mental hospital; she had even chased a mugger down the road and beaten him to the ground with a bag of oranges. He couldn’t understand why the woman wouldn’t fight for her own child. We have to fight for our girl, Molly. We have to fix her. We can’t let her down. It’s our job, for God’s sake.

  Jack had not spoken to his wife since she had watched Rabbit sign the hospice forms, not that Molly had noticed: she was too busy driving Rabbit to her death. When she’d returned home that night, she’d brought a curry, and instead of talking about Rabbit, she’d babbled on about him needing to walk it off. But what’s the plan? When are we going to pick up the fight? She had sat in the chair and promptly fallen asleep. He’d binned the curry and headed up the stairs. He’d lain in bed alone in the dark, burning eyes focused on the ceiling, his brain so full of rage it ached. Why are you allowing this to happen, Molly? Who the hell are you? Where is my wife? I can’t fight for her without you, Molls. Please, please, help me.

  Juliet

  It was just before midnight when Juliet heard the front door open and close quietly. She turned down the TV so that it was barely audible, hoping that Stephen would make his way to his room without checking on her; but then she heard the click of the sitting-room door opening and he tiptoed in. She’d been sitting up and it was too late to pretend she wasn’t awake.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘Hey,’ she responded.

  ‘The benefits of sleeping in a sitting room.’ He was referring to the TV.

  ‘Suppose.’ The sofa was converted into a pull-out bed and she was covered with a mound of blankets.

  Stephen sat in an armchair in a corner of the room. ‘Can’t sleep?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s hard to be away from home.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she agreed.

  ‘I’m sorry about your ma. I wish there was something I could do.’

  ‘Thanks, but it’s only a broken leg. She’s battled worse,’ Juliet said.

  Stephen nodded, then changed the subject. ‘You hungry?’

  ‘It’s late.’

  ‘I’ve just spent the last twelve hours studying in an attempt to make up for the fact that I’ve spent the year drinking beer and chasing after a girl called Susan instead of attending classes. I’m tired and pissed off with myself, the world and stupid Susan, who wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit her on the nose. When I’m tired and pissed off, I like to eat.’

  Juliet grinned. Stephen was cool and she was tired and pissed off too. She was tired because she always found it hard to sleep when her mother was in hospital, and she was pissed off because she couldn’t understand why Grace had insisted she sleep on the sofa, surrounded by mental-case boys, rather than allow her to stay in Nan’s spare bedroom in peace. Also, she hadn’t eaten anything except a nut bar all day, despite Grace’s cajoling. ‘Yeah, I’m hungry.’

  ‘Follow me.’ He got up and left the room.

  She put on her slippers and dressing-gown, then followed him into the kitchen, where he began frying sausages and boiling the kettle.

  ‘Nothing quite beats a sausage sandwich at midnight,’ he said, as she sat up at the counter.

  ‘Do you have ketchup?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course! What do you take us for?’

  ‘Why did you want to do engineering?’ she asked.

  ‘I got a Meccano set when I was ten and I was obsessed. It’s all I’ve ever wanted since then.’

  ‘So why did you spend the year drinking beer and chasing Susan?’

  ‘I’m an idiot.’

  She laughed a little.

  ‘How about you? Do you know what you want to do?’

  ‘Science.’

  ‘Are you going to build rockets or work on an alternative to water?’

  ‘I’m going to help find the cure for cancer,’ she said, which seemed to stop him in his tracks.

  For a moment it looked like Stephen wanted to cry. Instead he pulled out some bread and buttered four slices. He scooped the sausages out of the pan and laid them on two of the slices, squirted
them with ketchup and covered them with the remaining slices, cut the sandwiches in half, plated them and handed Juliet hers. Then he took a huge bite of his own and said, ‘Yum.’

  Encouraged, she took a bite. ‘That’s really good,’ she said. ‘If engineering doesn’t work out you could be a chef in a greasy spoon or buy a hotdog stand.’

  ‘Ha-ha. It will work out if I have to beg, borrow or steal.’

  ‘Or study,’ she said.

  ‘Or study.’

  ‘OK.’ She hadn’t thought about her mother in more than sixty seconds. She had smiled, enjoyed a sandwich and even giggled once. For the first time in days, Juliet Hayes was living in the moment.

  ‘You know you’re my favourite cousin.’

  ‘I’m your only cousin,’ she reminded him.

  ‘On that note, do you think Uncle Davey’s a homo?’

  ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘Why so sure?’ he asked.

  ‘Because I caught him in bed with me ma’s best friend, Marjorie, when I was ten.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘They said they were playing leapfrog.’

  Stephen nearly choked on his sandwich with laughter and Juliet joined in. Oh, Ma, I’m so sorry. I hope you’re OK. I miss you. I love you. Come home to me.

  DAY TWO

  Chapter Three

  Molly

  MOLLY WOKE IN the chair. She was stiff and cold and still unsure if it was night or day when she heard Davey banging around in the kitchen. She got up, stretched and stamped her foot – the leg was dead – waited for the pins, needles and numbness to pass, then went towards the noise. Davey was boiling the kettle when she entered the kitchen. ‘What time is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Around nine.’

  ‘You should have woken me. I should be with Rabbit.’

  ‘You should be in bed,’ Davey said. ‘Sit down, Ma, and I’ll make you some breakfast.’ She did as she was told. She was exhausted, drained and shaken to her core.

  ‘Where’s your da?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s been in his room practically since I arrived.’

  ‘He’s not able for all of this,’ she mumbled.

  ‘None of us are.’

  ‘He just needs some time to get his head together. We all come at things differently.’

  Davey handed her a mug of tea, then some toast and a knife. ‘Butter it, eat it.’

  She looked up and smiled at him. ‘I will. Thank you, son.’

  He sat opposite her at the table. ‘How are you coping, Ma?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. I keep thinking about what we could have missed. Maybe there is a miracle out there for us yet.’

  ‘We’ve chased enough miracles, Ma,’ Davey said sadly. ‘It only leads to disappointment and suffering.’

  ‘Rabbit’s still here,’ Molly whispered. ‘There’s still hope if she’s here.’ She wiped a stray tear that had escaped from the stockpile inside her, then bit into her toast. Each mouthful seemed to take every ounce of her strength to chew and swallow, but she continued to eat as though it was a challenge she refused to fail.

  ‘We all need our strength now,’ she said, getting up and lifting her plate.

  Davey took it from her. ‘Go and get washed, Ma. I’ll take care of everything else.’

  ‘You’re a good man. You always were so kind, a fucking eejit but kind. I’m so proud of you, Davey.’ She left the room and walked up the stairs, holding the banister for support. Her legs felt tired and twisted.

  The light was streaming into her bedroom from the window that looked out onto the green. Jack was lying still, with his back to her. She could tell he was awake because he wasn’t snoring and was far too stiff to be relaxed. He didn’t speak and she didn’t have anything to say. Instead she moved towards the light and focused on the green, watching a boy and girl play chase with an Irish Wolfhound that was bigger than both of them.

  She had watched her kids and her grandchildren play on the green from that window so many times over the years, but the boy, girl and dog reminded her particularly of one summer’s evening when Davey and his little sister Rabbit were lying on one of her old blankets, wearing sunglasses and staring into the sun.

  ‘It makes you feel spacey, Ma,’ Rabbit had said, when Molly had gone across the road to see what her children were doing.

  ‘I can see black spots,’ Davey said, moving his hands through the air.

  The sun was still high and Molly wasn’t sure that staring at it was good for their eyes, especially as Rabbit already had eye problems.

  ‘I don’t like it. You could do yourself damage,’ Molly said.

  ‘Lie down beside me, Ma, and see for yourself,’ Rabbit said.

  Molly had always been a reasonable sort of woman. She was never one of those mothers who ordered their kids to do or stop doing something ‘because I say so’.

  Molly accepted her daughter’s invitation. Her kids moved over and she lay down on the ground beside them with her sunglasses on.

  Her face felt warm and she immediately blinked a few times, but then she settled on the light. It felt nice but slightly strained.

  ‘It takes a while to feel spacey,’ Rabbit said.

  ‘How long? I’ve got the tea on.’

  ‘About five minutes,’ Davey said.

  ‘Ah, here, I don’t have five minutes and my eyes keep closing. I don’t like it.’

  ‘Just give it a minute, Ma,’ Rabbit said.

  Lying on the warm ground felt good, so she stayed for a minute longer to please her youngest, but also because she was now a little too lazy to stand up. Then the strangest thing happened. Molly Hayes felt herself floating in the air and she was heading for the blue sky above. The sensation was so real that she grabbed the blanket and gripped it tight. Her heart raced and she sat up.

  ‘Christ on a bike!’ she shouted, and her kids sat up too.

  ‘Wha’?’ Davey said.

  ‘Are you all right, Ma? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ Rabbit said.

  ‘I think I almost was one!’ Molly said, alarmed, as she scrambled to her feet.

  ‘Wha’?’ Davey asked again, clearly confused by his mother’s reaction.

  ‘Did either of you feel like yous were leaving your body?’ she asked them.

  Rabbit and Davey looked at each other, then at her. They shook their heads and said no.

  ‘Right, good! Get up – get up! Never do that again.’

  As she walked across the road, she heard Rabbit say to her brother, ‘I think me ma is losing it.’ And she’d wondered if her youngest was right.

  She laughed at the memory. Maybe she had momentarily lost it, or maybe she was just tired or overwhelmed, or she’d taken too many headache tablets. She wondered what she’d have seen or imagined if she’d stared into the sun that day. It made her shudder. The warmth of the memory was gone and it had left her feeling cold.

  When she turned from the window, her husband was sitting up in bed. ‘You should come to the hospice today,’ she said to him.

  ‘To do what?’ he asked. ‘Just to get a front-row seat? Maybe we should sell tickets.’ Jack was not often sarcastic and it didn’t suit him.

  ‘I’m going to be with our daughter who needs us,’ Molly said evenly.

  ‘That’s right,’ he said, ‘she needs us, and what are we doing? We’re doing nothing. That’s what we’re doing.’

  ‘What do you want from me, Jack?’

  ‘I want you to fight, the way you always fight.’

  ‘I am fighting.’

  ‘No, you’ve given up. The minute you drove her into that place you gave up on her.’

  ‘How dare you?’

  ‘We didn’t even discuss it.’ He was shouting now. His face was red and his fists were balled.

  ‘What is there to talk about?’ Molly roared back.

  ‘Rabbit, our little girl, is dying and we’re supposed to protect her, Molly. Why aren’t we doing everything we can to save her?’

  Molly was ro
oted to the spot. Her heart was aching, her stomach turning and her brain somersaulting. She needed to sit: her legs threatened to give way. She moved towards the chair. Her face must have paled so considerably that her husband, despite his anger, jumped out of bed, pulled out the dressing-table stool and settled her on it. She put her face into her hands and considered what he had said as he waited for her response. Fight for her, Molly, for God’s sake. If you can’t do it, no one can.

  Molly looked up into his eyes and spoke quietly but firmly. ‘If you ever accuse me of giving up on one of my kids again, I’ll take a carving knife to you.’ She stood up and grabbed her dressing-gown.

  ‘Molly!’ Jack shouted after her. ‘Please!’ His voice was breaking. ‘I’m begging you! Get her out of that death house, Molly.’

  ‘Fuck you.’ Molly walked onto the landing, biting back tears of anger and frustration. How dare you, Jack Hayes? How could you?

  Davey was at the top of the stairs. ‘He didn’t mean it, Ma.’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘Please, he’s just—’

  ‘Blaming me.’

  ‘It’s not like that.’

  ‘It’s exactly like that,’ she said. ‘He’s a coward, snivelling in her face, avoiding the responsibility, leaving it all up to me, then judging how I handle it. How fucking dare he?’ She went into the bathroom and slammed the door. Then she opened it, came out onto the landing and screamed as loudly as she could: ‘I have not given up, Jack Hayes. I will never give up, do you hear me?’

  She turned back into the bathroom, closed the door and cried till she couldn’t cry any more.

  Rabbit

  Rabbit hated bed baths.

  ‘Oh, please run me a bath,’ she begged Michelle.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Michelle asked, her gloved hands resting on her hips.

  ‘I’d like to float for a while,’ Rabbit said.

  ‘OK, but I’m staying with you.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘You can tell me your troubles,’ Rabbit said.