The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes (16 page)

Jack was listening to a Snow Patrol album while Molly continued to read the various trials they’d printed off the previous night. ‘Any luck?’ he said, as he pulled into a garage for petrol.

‘These are mostly about studying patients as opposed to fixing them.’

‘Mr Dunne did say . . .’

‘Don’t mind Mr Dunne. He’s only one man.’

‘He was the one man who gave our girl a chance. Remember the others.’

‘Every last one, and that’s why we need to go abroad. The Irish are backward, always were and always will be,’ Molly said.

He got out of the car. She continued to read as he filled the tank. He leaned in. ‘Do you want anything inside?’

‘No.’ He moved to walk away. ‘Actually, hold on, I’ll have a cup of tea.’

‘Right.’

‘And don’t buy any chocolate.’

‘I won’t.’

‘And pick up a lotto ticket.’

‘Will do.’

‘And the paper.’

She leaned out of the car and shouted the last order. Jack had his back to her but he raised a hand to acknowledge he’d heard it.

Molly was sitting in the car and minding her own business when a knock came at the window. She looked up and saw a man she recognized but wasn’t sure from where.

‘Mrs H?’ he said.

‘Yes?’

‘It’s me, Louis.’

‘Louis! I can’t believe it. How long has it been?’

‘About twenty years.’

She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Twenty years! Did you ever marry?’

‘That’s my wife there.’ He pointed to the car parked across from her. A woman waved and she waved back. ‘And there are my two as well.’ A boy and a girl were sitting in the back seat.

‘They’re lovely. I’m delighted for you. So, Louis, did you stay with the music?’

‘Nah. I went to college and studied IT.’

‘Good for you, son.’

‘How’s everyone?’

‘Davey’s still in America, working with the country singer.’

‘I’ve followed his career. He’s done well, Mrs H.’

‘He never married, no kids – at least, not that I know of.’

‘Davey was always about the music.’

‘A set of drums doesn’t keep you warm at night.’ She looked towards his car. ‘Nothing beats family, Louis. Of course, I wouldn’t say that to Davey – you know how bloody moody he gets if ya dare to have an opinion.’

Louis laughed. ‘You haven’t changed, Mrs H. How’s Grace and Rabbit?’

‘Great,’ she lied. ‘Grace is married with four boys and Rabbit has one girl.’

‘I follow her work in the newspaper. I was sorry to read about her cancer.’

Molly often forgot that Rabbit had written about her battle. She blushed a little and wondered if he was aware he had caught her out in a lie. Rabbit hadn’t written anything since her leg had snapped and her previous article had been hopeful: she had felt very well.

‘She’s a fighter, but you know that.’

‘I can still see her intimidate sound guys who were twice her age and three times her size,’ he said. ‘She could have been a brilliant sound engineer if she’d wanted.’

‘I always thought she’d make a lovely nurse,’ Molly said.

‘I’m glad she’s doing well,’ he said.

Molly remained silent. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth. She just couldn’t face it. ‘I’ll tell her. She’ll be delighted I saw you.’

He waved and walked into the garage. She returned to her reading material. It was another ten minutes before Jack appeared. The lotto ticket was in his mouth. He handed her the tea and the newspaper, then gave the ticket as he got into the car.

‘You’ll never guess who I bumped into inside the garage.’

‘Louis.’

‘He’s piled on the weight. He’d want to watch that. I told him about Jeffrey. He said he’s giving himself till September to knock himself into shape.’

‘You didn’t mention Rabbit, did you?’ she said, as he took off onto the motorway.

‘No. Why?’

‘He asked about her and I said she was great.’

‘She is great.’ He smiled at his wife.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘She’s fucking fantastic.’

He laughed at her, then fell silent. She read on, but there was nothing appropriate in the documentation. He turned up the music. She looked out of the window at the fields of cows, sheep and fodder. He focused on the road, but they were both thinking about their daughter and how long they could keep up the pretence that everything would be all right.

Michael Gallagher looked frail and thin when he ushered them into his old broken-down bungalow. They followed him to the kitchen, which was inhabited by six cats, all, apparently, happy to sit anywhere but the floor.

‘Christ on a bike,’ Molly mumbled.

‘Tea or coffee?’ he asked.

‘You’re all right,’ Molly said. There was no way she was drinking or eating anything in that house. He pointed to two chairs tucked into his kitchen table. They pulled them out and sat down. He sat opposite.

‘What was so sensitive you couldn’t talk about it over the phone?’

‘It’s not sensitive, not really. I just prefer to discuss business face to face,’ Molly said. People found it much harder to say no to her in person.

‘OK.’ He rubbed his prominent nose with his forefinger and thumb.

‘You probably don’t remember my daughter Rabbit.’

‘How could I forget her? She called me a charlatan and threatened to have me arrested for quackery and fraud.’

‘Good memory,’ Molly said.
Damn it.
But Molly would not be deterred. ‘Well, anyway, she has cancer.’

‘Don’t we all,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Prostate.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

‘I’m sorry too,’ Jack added.

Michael shrugged.

‘I didn’t think a healer would get sick. Stupid, really,’ Molly said.

‘And you can’t heal yourself?’ Jack asked.

Of course you can’t heal yourself
, Molly thought.
Rabbit was right. You are a charlatan.

‘It doesn’t work like that.’

‘Can you still heal even though you’re sick?’ It sounded like a stupid question when asked out loud, but Molly didn’t care.

‘Under the right circumstances.’

‘Will you visit Rabbit?’

‘Does she want me to?’

‘Well, no.’

‘So you’re thinking about surprising her?’

‘We were thinking of saying nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘We were going to bring you in while she was asleep.’

‘You do realize the patient has to want to be cured for healing to occur?’

‘Well, she does want to be cured.’

‘Just not by me.’

‘It’s nothing personal.’

‘She doesn’t believe in mumbo-jumbo,’ Jack said.

‘Not helpful, love,’ Molly told him, and turned back to Michael. ‘If you would lay your hands on her, we could have you in and out in a jiffy.’

‘So you’re planning on smuggling me into her home in the middle of the night?’ he asked, one bushy silver eyebrow raised high.

‘No, she sleeps a lot – it’s the medication – and she’s in a hospice,’ Molly said. The words sounded strange coming out of her mouth.

Michael Gallagher took her hand. ‘Stage four.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m so sorry, Molly.’

‘Don’t be. Just help us.’ She detected the panic in her voice.

‘I can’t.’

‘Why?’ she pleaded.

‘She’s dying, Molly.’

Jack’s fist came down on the table and he covered his face and eyes with his other hand. ‘But you helped that blind woman and the boy in Tralee with leukaemia and the rest.’

‘It’s too late for Rabbit, and even if it wasn’t, she has to believe.’

‘I believe. I’ll believe enough for both of us.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Please.’

‘I’m not going to take your money or waste your time, Molly. You need to go home and prepare yourself to say goodbye.’

Jack remained absolutely still. Molly looked from Michael Gallagher’s sad face to her husband’s. ‘Is there nothing I can say?’

‘No, Molly.’

She wiped away a stray tear roughly with the palm of her hand, then rested it on her husband’s shoulder. He placed his on hers and patted it.

‘We were just hoping . . .’ Her voice broke, so she gave up talking.

‘I know,’ Michael said.

He apologized once more at his front door, as Molly and Jack walked down the narrow footpath arm in arm, Molly sobbing and Jack holding her head close to his chest.

Grace walked through the front door with her suitcase. Before she had her coat off, Lenny was halfway down the stairs. When she saw his face, she covered her eyes with her hands. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I have no idea what happened.’

He held her close and kissed the top of her head. ‘You lost it.’

‘I hurt you.’

‘It was an accident.’

‘I threw a mug at your face on purpose.’

‘I should have ducked quicker.’

‘If this conversation was the other way around, you apologizing for hurting me and me making excuses for you, people would call it domestic violence.’

He laughed. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Grace. We’ve been together for twenty years and this is the first mug-in-the-face incident we’ve had. I think I’m safe enough.’

‘I’m so, so, so sorry.’

They walked together into the kitchen.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘Now can we forget it?’ He put on the kettle and she sat down on a stool facing him. ‘Toast?’

‘Yes, please. I’m starving.’

He popped two pieces of bread in the toaster.

‘Where are the kids?’ she asked.

‘Stephen is in the library, Bernard’s playing football, Ryan’s still sleeping and Jeffrey is playing video games in Stuart’s house. Did you sleep?’

‘No, but Rabbit did.’

‘She was in good form,’ he said.

‘Yeah, she was. I heard you were mugged.’

‘Well, I was hardly going to say you were mental. Speaking of which, did you hear about Sheila B?’

‘Yeah, poor cow.’

He poured them coffees and served his wife toast. She couldn’t help but stare at the damage she’d done to his face. ‘I’m a lunatic,’ she said.

‘Why? What did you do?’ Stephen asked, appearing from nowhere in his ripped jeans and an old Blondie T-shirt.

‘Nothing.’

‘So where were you?’ he quizzed, opening the fridge and grabbing the orange-juice carton.

‘I stayed with Rabbit.’

‘How is she?’

‘She’s in good form.’

He closed the fridge. ‘I didn’t ask how her form was. How is she?’

‘Stephen . . .’

‘Ma, will you stop treating us all like we’re stupid?’ Stephen poured a glass of orange juice and sat on the counter. ‘So?’

‘She’s really sick.’

‘No – really? I had no idea.’ He was being sarcastic.

Grace briefly considered throwing a mug at him.

‘Don’t be cheeky to your mother,’ Lenny said.

Stephen sighed and jumped down from the counter. ‘You need to start telling the truth, especially to Juliet.’ He downed the orange juice and walked out. They heard the front door slam.

Grace looked at Lenny. ‘Davey’s called a meeting in Ma’s tomorrow to discuss just that.’

‘We could build on an extension,’ he said, out of nowhere.

‘For what?’

‘For Juliet.’

‘We can’t even get an overdraft on our current account, never mind extend the house.’

‘We could tell Stephen to get out.’

She laughed. ‘I don’t believe this is happening. I know it
is
happening but I just don’t believe it.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m really lucky to have you.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m really grateful.’

‘So you should be.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Stop.’

‘You can throw a mug at me, if you’d like,’ she said.

‘No.’

‘Please.’

‘No.’

‘What can I do to make it up to you?’

‘You really have to ask?’

‘You’re so easy.’

He grinned and rubbed his hands together. ‘I’m getting sex, Saturday-morning sex, living the dream, folks.’ He danced around the kitchen, amusing his wife with his antics.

‘What about Ryan?’

‘I’ll deal with it.’

He walked to the bottom of the stairs and shouted, ‘Ryan.’

‘Wha’?’

‘Get the fuck out.’

‘Wha’?’

‘You heard.’

‘But I’m grounded.’

‘Not any more. OUT!’

‘Nice one.’

Ryan was dressed and gone in less than five minutes. Lenny and Grace were undressed, intimate and spent fifteen minutes after their second youngest son had shouted, ‘See ya later, losers,’ and slammed the front door.

They lay together in the afterglow.

‘He’s probably robbing a bank.’

‘Who?’

‘Ryan.’

Lenny laughed. ‘Nah, he’s going to be fine.’

‘We thought Rabbit would be fine.’

‘Ryan is not Rabbit.’

‘No, he’s not.’

‘He’s just finding out who he is. He’s not a bad kid.’

‘Tell that to the kids whose iPhones he lifted.’

‘He’s not going to do it again.’

‘I hope not.’

‘Still can’t believe he had a market stall in Dún Laoghaire we knew nothing about.’

‘He’s a smart kid.’ It was true. Not only had Ryan run a stall selling items he had stolen from his classmates over three months, but he had put the money he’d earned into high-performing shares. He had lied to the police and said he’d spent it, but Grace had found the website on his open computer when she was snooping. She made him cash enough to compensate the kids, but he continued to invest and re-invest the profits from his ill-gotten gains. Initially Grace had had a real problem with this, but she’d given up after he’d agreed to pay the kids back and donate a hundred euro to a cancer charity.

‘It’s as good an offer as you’re going to get, Ma,’ he’d said. ‘Take it or leave it.’

‘I think he’s bored.’ Grace gazed at her poor husband’s black eye.

‘I know he is,’ he replied. ‘I just wish he was as into football as Bernard.’

‘Maybe we should check out some advanced learning programmes for him.’

‘At what cost?’ Lenny said.

‘Doesn’t matter. He can pay for it himself.’

Lenny laughed. ‘Good luck.’

‘Did Jeffrey stick to his diet yesterday?’ she asked.

‘Well, after the lentil roast had painted the wall and I’d recovered from my mugging, I bought some steak and we all ate it with salad.’