The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes (13 page)

She nodded and smiled, dropped her schoolbag and flung her arms around him. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Davey. Thanks, Miss Hickey.’ She pulled away from Davey and picked up her bag.

‘You’re welcome, Juliet. I hope you feel better.’

Outside it was unseasonably warm. Juliet took off her jacket and hung it on the straps of her backpack. Davey watched her face change. ‘Why are you here, Davey?’

‘The school called.’

‘I mean why are you in Ireland, ya eejit?’ she said playfully.

‘Hey, my ma is the only one allowed to call me that.’

‘Sorry, my bad, so why are you home?’

‘I missed you.’
Please, please, don’t push, Juliet. I don’t know what to say. I can’t be the one to tell you. It’s not my place.

She thought about what he had said and chose to accept it. ‘I missed you too.’

Davey wanted to cry. ‘Do you have a key for Grace’s?’ He changed the subject.

‘No.’

‘Wanna go to your nan’s to lie down?’

‘No.’

‘I can take you to a doctor if you need one.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’

‘What about your headache?’

‘I just said that.’

‘Why?’

‘I needed to get out of there,’ Juliet said. She could always be honest with her uncle Davey.

Davey sighed. Nobody could understand that better than he did. ‘OK, so what do you want to do?’

‘I want to go to Stephen’s Green.’

‘Haven’t been there for years.’

They got onto the bus, made their way up to the top deck and sat right at the front. Davey hadn’t seen Dublin from that vantage-point in a long time. It was nice. They talked together about all the changes Dublin had undergone in the fifteen years he’d been living in America. Juliet pointed out the Luas tram system. He hadn’t noticed it on previous trips. ‘It looks really good.’

‘And it actually works.’

‘Wow! Public transport that works.’

Davey bought them takeaway coffee and apple Danishes before they headed into the park. ‘Do you want me to buy breadcrumbs for the ducks?’

‘I’m not five.’

The park was surprisingly busy for just after three o’clock on a weekday. Even though it couldn’t have been more than eighteen degrees centigrade, various people had stripped off and were sunbathing on the grass. A young band played in the bandstand. They were good. The music was fun and the boys were pretty. They made Juliet smile.

‘Let’s stay here and listen,’ she said, and Davey was happy to oblige her so they sat on the grass, drank their coffee and picked at their pastries.

‘You still play guitar?’ he asked.

‘Sometimes.’ Davey had bought Juliet her guitar and she had promised him she’d be the best guitar player ever.

‘Bored?’ he said.

‘Oh, no, just busy.’

Davey understood. The kid spent most of her time caring for her mother. He should have done more to help them.
I’m a dick. I’ve let you down, kiddo.
‘You were good.’

‘I was OK.’

‘No, you had promise.’

‘Thanks.’

They focused on the band for another song.

‘Davey?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Maybe we’ll visit you in Nashville some time.’

‘I’d love to see you there.’ He studiously avoided the ‘we’ in her sentence. If she noticed, she didn’t challenge him.

‘Ma’s always talkin’ about her time in America and how great it was. I bet she’d love to get back there.’

Davey wanted to change the subject. ‘I visited her that first summer she lived in New York.’

‘Yeah?’ Juliet said.

Davey knew she loved hearing stories about her mother. ‘She was living in this cramped little shoebox just off Broad Street.’

‘With Marjorie?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Was that before or after you played leapfrog with Marjorie?’ she asked. A cheeky grin spread across her face.

‘Before.’ He covered his face with his hands.

She reached over and pulled them away from his eyes. ‘Keep talking.’

‘It was July, and it was so hot that the girls used to keep their makeup in the fridge and that was pretty much all they had in it. We used to go to the bar just for the air-conditioning.’

‘And lots of beer,’ she said.

‘That too but, seriously, I thought I was going to melt. I’d never felt heat like it. Couldn’t wait to get out of the place, but yer ma, she loved it.’

‘She said you left because you missed me nan too much.’

‘Yeah, there was that.’

‘But you went back.’

‘Didn’t feel I had a choice.’

‘But you like it now?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why did she leave if she liked it so much?’

‘Johnny.’

‘But he told her to go. He wanted her to stay in America.’

‘I know, but it was hard for her to stay away.’ He shuffled uncomfortably on the grass. He didn’t like talking about Rabbit and Johnny’s relationship. It was too painful.

‘I used to wish he was my da,’ Juliet said.

‘Yeah? Why?’ Davey was shocked. It seemed such an odd thing for young Juliet to wish for.

‘Because of all the stories, because she loved him so much and he was so amazing and cool, whereas me da, well, there’s really only one story.’

‘What’s that?’

‘He ran after a thief when he snatched her handbag.’

‘Really?’

‘That’s how they met. How come you don’t know this?’

‘I don’t know. I suppose I missed out on a lot of stories over the years.’ He wondered why he’d never asked his sister how she’d met the father of her child.
What the hell is wrong with me?
‘Well, that’s romantic, isn’t it?’ he said.

‘He didn’t even catch the guy.’

‘But he tried.’

‘Suppose.’ She paused. ‘Me ma asked me if I wanted her to find him.’

‘And?’

‘I said no.’

‘I understand that.’

‘She said he was nice but she didn’t really know him. Three weeks is no time. He could be a psycho-killer.’

‘Or, worse, an accountant.’

She smiled at his joke. ‘Besides, I don’t need him. I have Ma.’

Juliet was testing him, whether consciously or not. Davey felt like crying again.
If the kid can hold it together it’s the least you can do. Mental note: get Francie to punch me in the face. I fucking deserve it.
It was time to move on. He stood up. ‘Come on.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘A trip down Memory Lane,’ he said.

‘OK.’

As they walked out of the park, she linked his arm. ‘Thanks for this, Davey.’

Juliet and Davey were always so comfortable together. She had the easy relationship with him that her mother had always craved when she was a kid. He had been so busy telling Rabbit to piss off he had missed all the good stuff she’d shared with his best friend. Now Juliet was growing up and he was missing that too.

‘I’m going to Skype you more,’ he said.

‘You always say that.’ She laughed. ‘Ma says you were born useless.’

‘She’s right.’

‘I tell her you’re just busy doing what you love. You’re living your best life.’

‘How did you work that out?’

‘Ma’s an
Oprah
addict. She says shite like that all the time.’

‘I love you, Bunny,’ he said, and he meant it with all he had in him. It might have been the first time he’d ever told anyone other than his ma that he loved them. It was a big moment.

Juliet went red and punched his arm. ‘Shut up.’

‘I do.’

‘Seriously, shut up.’ She was embarrassed but smiling.

‘OK, I will, but only because I love you.’

‘Big eejit,’ Juliet said, under her breath.

They reached the narrow street a little before five o’clock.

‘When you said Memory Lane, I didn’t think you meant an actual lane.’ Juliet was walking ahead of her uncle. ‘Nice graffiti.’

‘It’s the U2 wall,’ Davey said, scanning it from top to bottom.

‘What are you looking for?’

‘We left our mark here that last summer before it all fell apart.’

‘What did you put?’ Juliet asked, joining him in his search.

‘“Johnny, Francie, Louis and Jay, Davey and little sis Rabbit here to stay”,’ he said, reading it. It was faded and barely legible, but as soon as he pointed to it, Juliet could see it.

‘Wow, really profound.’

‘Not our best work, I admit.’

‘Does that say “Kitchen Sink”?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Shit band name, Uncle Davey.’

‘Great band name.’

‘You were never going anywhere with a name like that.’

Davey traced his finger on the wall. ‘Back then we thought we were going all the way.’

‘Yeah, well, you were thicks,’ she said.

He laughed. ‘Maybe, but we were happy thicks.’

‘What was me ma like back then?’ Juliet asked, following him down Windmill Lane.

‘Annoying.’

‘But you loved her.’

Davey chuckled. ‘You couldn’t help it.’

‘What age was she when you wrote on the wall?’

‘Fourteen.’

‘People say I look like her.’

‘You do.’ He failed to mention that, aged twelve, Juliet,
sans
heavy spectacles and two bunches at either side of her head, looked a lot better than her ma had.

‘Do you still have the music?’

‘Probably on a tape in the attic.’

‘Do you even have a tape player?’

‘Maybe in the attic.’

‘Will you play me the music some time?’

‘Yeah. I’d like that.’

‘Cool.’

They walked on towards Pearse Street.

‘Davey.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Can we go and see me ma now?’

He nodded, put his arm around her shoulders and they headed towards the taxi rank. On the way Davey reflected on how proud he was of his niece and worried for her.
When are we going to talk about Juliet?

Uncle Terry opened the back doors of his old bread van to reveal the band and Rabbit sitting among their gear, half killed with the heat. ‘Up and out,’ he shouted to them.

Davey stood up, his hair stuck to his head with sweat. He wavered a bit, then steadied himself by placing a palm against the roof. Francie and Jay stayed sitting and panting. Johnny shook Rabbit gently. Even though her eyes were open, she seemed sleepy.

‘Come on, ya big Marys.’ Uncle Terry banged the side of the van. ‘It’s show time.’

Kitchen Sink’s new manager had booked them into every small venue and festival he could find that summer. He was planning to get them a deal by October and it was going to be big. Already there was interest from the UK. They had the songs, just needed a toilet tour under their belt and to find their stage legs. Once they’d broken Ireland, they’d be ready for the world stage. Paddy Price was going to take Kitchen Sink all the way, and after two years of practice, writing and waiting, they were ready. It was a shoestring operation, with only enough money to pay Uncle Terry for his questionable transport. The lads would have to take care of their own gear. Initially Grace had signed on as roadie, but when she’d realized she’d have to lift dirty speakers and set up her brother’s kit, she’d told them to fuck off.

Rabbit had been put forward as their sound engineer. She knew every song inside out and she’d shown a flair for the work, which was handy because she was learning on the job. After a few questionable gigs, she had found her groove and she was actually pretty good. At fourteen Rabbit Hayes was too young to be in most venues, but at five foot seven, having swapped her spectacles for lenses and finally let her long silky hair hang down to her waist, she looked the same age as her eighteen-year-old brother. Much to Davey’s annoyance, when she wore makeup, she looked even older.

It was Rabbit’s job to carry the bag of leads and Davey’s kick drum. The lads managed the rest between them. Tonight’s venue was dark and mercifully cool. Another band was on stage, sound-checking. Rabbit walked up to the guy on the desk, a real Johnny Rotten wannabe. He was probably twenty and had a safety pin in his nose. ‘You’ll be done in fifteen, yeah?’ she said.

He looked her up and down. ‘We’ll be done when we’re done.’

Johnny nudged Francie, alerting him to the altercation that was about to happen.

‘You’ll be finished in fifteen minutes.’

‘Who says?’

‘The call sheet and me.’

‘Who the fuck are you?’

‘It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is what I’m going to do. Can your band afford new gear?’

The would-be Johnny Rotten looked her up and down again but this time with caution. She stood still, allowing him to survey her. Finally he nodded. ‘Fifteen minutes.’

‘I told ya she’d be a natural,’ Johnny said to Francie.

‘You did.’

The gig was packed to the rafters. After initial feedback, which Rabbit easily sorted, the gig went brilliantly. Halfway through she spotted her school friend Chris waving to her. She waved back but kept working. Johnny had the crowd in the palm of his hand throughout; the lads didn’t make a single mistake, just bounced around effortlessly. It was a good night, maybe even one of the best. Johnny’s voice was crystal clear, the vocals sitting perfectly on top of the music, no more feedback issues and lovely reverb. By the time Johnny finished the last song, the crowd were going crazy, shouting, ‘More, more, more!’ Johnny quietened them with a hand gesture. ‘How about I sing you something I wrote about a girl?’

The crowd screamed and clapped.

‘OK, I haven’t shared it with the band yet, so is it OK if I sing it a cappella?’

More screams, although it was entirely likely that most of the crowd weren’t quite sure what a cappella was.

Davey rested his sticks, Louis picked up his beer and slugged it from behind his keyboard, Francie and Jay crossed their hands over their guitars and stood back – until they saw that Louis had a beer and made fierce gestures to their girlfriends to get them the same. Johnny took the mic off the stand, sat on the speaker and sang.

The room fell silent and everyone listened without moving, including Rabbit. Alandra had left for home two weeks before; Rabbit figured the song was about her. It had such a beautiful melody and he sang it from his soul. Rabbit had got over her jealousy of Alandra a long time ago. She’d felt sad when she left, especially because the poor girl’s dad was so ill. When it was over, the crowd clapped and cheered and the band left the stage to renewed screams of ‘More, more, more!’