The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes (31 page)

Juliet climbed into the car. Davey called Kyle as he reached the other side of the road, walked over to him and handed him a twenty-euro note. ‘Buy yourself something.’

‘It’s OK.’

‘You’re a good friend.’ Davey folded the money into his hand.

‘Are you really going to take her and look after her?’ Kyle asked.

‘There’s a lot to work out,’ Davey replied.

‘She’s counting on you,’ Kyle said. He thanked Davey for the money and walked away.

Davey got in behind the steering-wheel. ‘What was that about?’ Juliet asked.

‘Nothing,’ Davey said, but he was freaking out.
What if Rabbit says no? What if Ma throws a fit and has another heart attack? What if I can’t do this?

She’s counting on you
and
Don’t get too comfortable with her
were rushing around his head for the entire drive to the hospital.
I shouldn’t have opened me big mouth. Jay was right, I’m not a parent. I’m the guy who makes promises that I’m not sure I can keep.

‘What are you thinking about, Davey?’ Juliet asked.

‘Nothing. You?’

‘Kyle running around the garden with his mickey out.’

Davey chuckled for Juliet’s sake, but his mind was elsewhere.
Juliet is counting on you. Don’t get too comfortable with Juliet. Me ma is going to kill me.

Molly left the hospital with a prescription, a diet sheet and an appointment to see a specialist six weeks later. Grace wasn’t thrilled that her mother would be forced to wait so long, but Molly could reassure her that she was in no immediate danger and, other than a short argument about what was and wasn’t appropriate resting, the matter was resolved quickly. ‘I’m planning on sitting in an armchair in a hospice, not heading down a Chilean mine.’

Jack was waiting by the front door. He was ageing by the day, Molly thought. He hadn’t slept – he never did when he was in their bed without her – but insisted on making toast and tea while she showered. He’d even walked to the local shop and bought her favourite custard Danish.

Molly heard Grace and Jack whispering as she walked down the stairs. Their conversation ended abruptly when she entered the room. Her new diet plan was already fixed to the fridge. She sat in front of her unwanted toast and Danish and sipped her tea while Grace told them about the
craic
they’d had with Rabbit the previous night. ‘She’s much brighter, Ma.’

Molly was thrilled but also sad she’d missed out. Jack kept repeating that things were looking up, happy in the moment, mentally parking the fact that, although she was brighter, Rabbit was still dying, and that his wife might or might not have to undergo heart surgery. Molly loved Jack for that: she was a worrier, but once he had been given the smallest bit of positive news he ran with it. If anyone was Mr Brightside it was Jack. It was the reason she’d caved in and gone out with him in the first place.

When they had met, Molly’s heart had been set on another man. He was dating a friend of hers who was totally wrong for him, so it was only a matter of time before the relationship ended. Molly wasn’t known for her patience, but she was willing to wait. She was at the weekly dance, sitting with a friend, when Jack had approached to ask her onto the floor. She politely declined, saying she’d stubbed her toe. The following week came around quickly and this time Jack waited until she was sitting alone before he asked her onto the floor. Once again she politely declined: ‘If only it wasn’t for me bloody toe.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, and had a word with his best friend, Raymond. The first time Molly ever saw Raymond he was pushing a wheelchair towards her.

‘You’re not serious,’ she said, when Jack suggested he take her for a spin.

‘Just ten minutes on the floor.’

Even though she felt like an eejit, she sat in the chair, and in the ten minutes he spun her around, she forgot about the other fellow and finished the night dancing in Jack’s arms. When she asked him, weeks into their courtship, why he had persisted when he knew she was faking the injury, he told her that she was the type of woman who wouldn’t have bothered to lie if she hadn’t felt something. He was right. She asked how he knew.

‘You told my friend Joseph to eff off when he wouldn’t take no for an answer a month ago.’ It was clear he understood her. And he wasn’t intimidated by strength in women: he was attracted to it. Not to mention that he could find hope in a lie. Jack Hayes had revealed himself as one of a rare breed the day Molly had fallen in love with him.

Rabbit was clearly relieved to see her walk through the door. ‘You scared the shite out of me, Ma.’

‘Now you know how I feel,’ her ma said. Jack and Grace grinned.

Molly sat in the armchair and Grace and Jack took to the sofa.

‘I don’t want you staying long today, Ma,’ Rabbit said.

‘I’ll do what
I
want.’

‘I’ll have you thrown out.’

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘I would.’

‘Jesus, you’re harsh,’ Molly said.

‘She didn’t lick it off the stones,’ Jack observed.

‘Maybe I’ll go home for a sleep in the afternoon.’

Rabbit asked after her health but Molly didn’t want to talk about it. She kept saying it was nothing and not to worry. The girls pushed it, but Jack, of course, knew better. It was no time before she blurted out, ‘Oh, for God’s sake, I’ll bury the lot of you!’ Then she said ‘Fuck’ quietly to herself, through gritted teeth. ‘I’m so sorry, love,’ she said. ‘It’s the auld one with the prosthetic arm all over again.’

Rabbit, Grace, Jack and, finally, Molly laughed.

Minutes later, Davey and Juliet arrived just in time to see Rabbit wipe away a tear of laughter.

That afternoon Molly lay in bed in her husband’s arms. They were both so terribly tired. He was the first to fall asleep. She watched the wall for a while and thought about all the things that needed to be done. Father Frank was waiting for her call. She was still determined that he bless Rabbit, with or without her consent, and now that she was in brighter form it was probably the best time to do it. She also needed to talk to him about a funeral. It was difficult to think about it but it had to be done. She needed to talk to Rabbit too.
Does she want to be buried or cremated?
Molly didn’t know.
What kind of funeral would she like? Low key, probably, but Rabbit has many friends, and although it’s not appropriate for them to visit the hospice, they’d want to attend the funeral. What will she wear? She has so many beautiful clothes, but will they fit? Would she like to wear her wig, presuming she’d have an open casket – but then again would she want an open casket? She’d never really liked the spotlight. What kind of music? Do corpses wear shoes? I can’t remember what we did with Mammy but she was never a shoe person. Rabbit has lovely shoes . . .

Molly fell asleep.

It was unseasonably warm when Juliet pushed her mother’s wheelchair through the garden. It had taken a lot to get her into the chair and the sight of her disabled body being pulled and lifted, the near-empty catheter with tiny droplets of urine on the inside of the see-through tube and the still raw, stitched, swollen and bruised leg, turned Juliet’s stomach. The memory of the injury was still too vivid. She pretended she was OK with everything and that it was all perfectly normal when her mother cried out in pain and bit her lip so hard it left a red mark. She backed away when Rabbit’s nightdress rode up, exposing her bare red backside, disappearing into the shadows to allow the nurse to manage her, momentarily pretending she wasn’t there. Davey had made no bones about where he stood. As soon as the nurse had pulled Rabbit’s blankets down, he had run out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him. Juliet didn’t want her ma to feel abandoned, so she’d stuck it out but wished she was with Davey, messing around and being normal. She battled with that guilt as she made her way to the bench in a pretty little spot among trees and fresh daffodils. She parked the chair and Rabbit inhaled the air, gazing up to the cloudless blue sky. ‘Feels like summer.’

Juliet fixed her ma’s blanket, which was a soft, warm wool mix that had cost Marjorie a fortune. Rabbit pushed it down but Juliet insisted on tucking it in around her waist. ‘It’s not that warm, Ma.’ She wasn’t sure if she was trying to hide from her mother’s deterioration or if she was actually concerned that Rabbit would catch cold. Another wave of guilt followed. Davey sat on the bench with a coffee in hand.

‘Remember all those years we went to Blackpool, Davey?’ Rabbit asked.

‘Hard to forget.’

‘We had a ball.’

‘Yes, we did.’

‘I should have taken you to Blackpool, Juliet.’

‘It’s OK. I loved France and Spain, Vegas and New York.’

‘Still . . .’ Rabbit said.

‘What was the name of the old donkey that used to walk up and down the pier?’

‘Desmond,’ Rabbit said.

‘Desmond the Donkey?’ Juliet said.

‘Desmond was no ordinary donkey,’ Rabbit said. ‘He could count to ten with his hoof and fart on command.’

‘“Blow hard,” the guy would say – what was his name?’ Davey wondered.

‘I just remember he smelt of tobacco and Old Spice,’ Rabbit said. ‘But he said “Blow hard” and Desmond blew hard.’

‘Every kid on holiday visited the farting donkey. I tell you, if you want to really make money, invest in a farting anything. Kids are helpless when it comes to farts.’

‘It’s true. The year we went and he’d died, I cried for hours,’ Rabbit recalled.

‘I remember that,’ Davey said, in a high-pitched voice that suggested he’d only just remembered it and was enjoying the recollection. ‘We had to have a mock funeral for Desmond in the hotel car park.’

‘But you didn’t bury the actual donkey,’ Juliet said.

‘No, we buried a Desmond the Donkey key-ring me ma had bought for Pauline across the road,’ Rabbit explained.

‘Under some wildflowers. Da dug the ground with a dessert spoon and Ma said the eulogy,’ Davey added.

‘RIP, Desmond the Donkey. You brought joy, you brought pain . . .’ Rabbit said.

‘And the likes of your arse will never be seen again,’ Davey concluded.

Rabbit smiled. ‘Make Ma say something at mine. She won’t want to, but make her, OK, Davey?’

‘I will.’

Juliet changed the subject. ‘Would you like something to eat, Ma?’

‘No thanks, love.’

‘You haven’t eaten anything again today.’

‘Not hungry.’

‘Even a snack? The canteen has almond fingers.’

‘I’m fine,’ Rabbit said. ‘How are you and Juliet getting on at the house, Davey?’

‘Great,’ Juliet said, before he could answer.

‘Juliet’s a lovely cook. She made me scrambled eggs this morning.’

‘You should try her scones.’

‘You make scones? What age are you – ninety?’

‘I’ve had a breadmaker for two years plus,’ Juliet told him.

‘Oh, excuse me,’ Davey said, and Juliet grinned.

Juliet and Davey had always had a way with each other, and even though she saw him less than the rest of the family, they always reconnected easily.

‘Why are you squeezing your temples? Have you got a headache?’ Rabbit asked.

‘No, just thinking.’

‘What about?’ Rabbit asked.

‘I’m sleeping in your bed. Is that OK?’

‘It’s great. Are you sure you want to stay at my place, Davey?’ Rabbit asked.

‘He’s sure,’ Juliet said.

Davey nodded. ‘She’s happier at home, and with Ma just out of hospital, we’re better off giving her space. If we stay with her and Da, she’ll just take care of us.’

‘I’m really happy with Davey, Ma,’ Juliet said.

‘I can see that,’ Rabbit said, and before anyone could say any more, Derek Salley, Rabbit’s favourite editor, was coming towards them.

She held out her hand and he took it. ‘Who knew you’d be better-looking without the wig?’

‘Charmer.’

‘We miss you.’

‘This is my brother, Davey, and you know Juliet.’

Juliet said, ‘Hi.’

‘Davey, why don’t you take Juliet for a snack?’ Rabbit suggested.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she said.

‘Yes, you are,’ Davey insisted, getting up and dragging his niece by her collar. She feigned distress, then fell into step, waving back at her mother.

In the canteen, over Davey’s fifth coffee of the morning and Juliet’s second cupcake, he asked her about the editor.

‘She’s been writing a blog for the newspaper, but she’s done extra for a book,’ Juliet told him.

‘What kind of book?’

‘About being sick and other stuff.’

‘What stuff?’

‘Grown-up stuff.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ he said.

‘Nobody does.’

‘Good for her.’

‘Davey, she’s having a really good day, isn’t she?’

‘The best yet.’

‘That’s a good sign, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, kiddo, it’s good.’

Derek stayed for fifteen minutes. As soon as he’d left, Rabbit needed to be taken back to her bed: she was suffering breakthrough pain. It was bone-crunching and more than enough to end a pleasant afternoon in the garden. It was obvious to Juliet that her ma was doing her best to be strong and brave, but even though she kept her mouth firmly closed, her cries still escaped. Once inside, the nurse called one of the doctors. He asked Davey and Juliet to give him a moment with the patient. He was in there for fifteen minutes.

Davey and Juliet sat outside on the plastic chairs.

‘What do you think is taking so long?’ Juliet asked.

‘I don’t want to know,’ Davey said.

‘She’ll be OK,’ Juliet told herself. ‘I’ve seen this before lots of times. She’ll sleep now and then she’ll wake up and everything will be OK. She’s having her best day.’

‘I’m going to get a coffee.’

‘You’ve already had too many,’ Juliet said.

‘Oh, sorry, Ma.’ He stuck his tongue out at her.

‘Hold on, wait for me.’ Juliet didn’t want to sit outside that door on her own.

By the time they returned, Rabbit was asleep and the doctor was gone. Davey made some stupid excuse to leave the room. Juliet knew he was going to find the doctor. She sat with her mother and watched her closely, listening to her breathing through her mouth.
Just sleep, Ma. It will be better when you wake up.