The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes (35 page)

‘Look, Marjorie, you will get over this, and I assure you that one day he’ll thank you for it, might not be in so many words but he’ll feel grateful, trust me, and your ma, well, she’s an arsehole, nothing you can do about that, but you warn her that the next time she hurts you like that, Molly Hayes will want a word.’

‘Oh, there’s no need for that, Mrs H.’

‘There bloody is. You know who needs to get on her knees and pray for forgiveness? That auld one – but Hell wouldn’t have her. I remember how she was with you as a child. No wonder you ran out of that place and into that marriage. Stupid bitch. And I’ll tell you something else I’ve kept bottled up since God knows when. She’s a cheat. There, I said it. There isn’t a game of bridge in twenty years that that bitch has won fair and square.’

Marjorie burst out laughing.

‘It’s true,’ Molly said, and she laughed as well.

‘You always make me feel better, Mrs H,’ Marjorie said.

‘And I always will, love. Now, here’s what I want you to do. I want you to stop beating yourself up, go to your solicitor and get what’s yours. No more bullshit. The marriage is over. Split the spoils and move on. Do you hear me?’

Marjorie did, and that was exactly what she did. As soon as Marjorie let go of her guilt and put her work hat on, Neil was no match for her. The separation went through smoothly. The house afforded them an apartment each and a brand-new start. She found it difficult to be alone, but Rabbit and Juliet made it easier. Whenever she felt lonely, she’d just pack a bag and move into their spare room for a week, then a few days, until she found her feet and it was just a night here and there.

It was good to know she had people. Her work colleagues disappeared when the going got tough, her husband was gone, her mother was a cold-hearted bitch, but she always had the Hayes family. Now, though, the Hayes family was disappearing right in front of her eyes, and for the first time in her life Marjorie faced being truly, absolutely alone.

She couldn’t think about that. If she did, she’d open the window and jump out of her third-floor apartment. Knowing her luck the fall wouldn’t be enough to kill her and she’d be left paralysed from the neck down. Her ma would call it justice.
Stay away from the window, Marjorie.

Marjorie had always loved her expensive clothes, her fancy car and her luxury accommodation, but when she used to look across the café table at her friend, who still lived on love, wearing her tight jeans and V-neck T-shirts, she’d often wished she could swap lives for just one day. Rabbit’s life was simple. She knew exactly who she was and what she wanted. She might not have been the most pragmatic of people – Marjorie recalled the many times she’d brought up the subject of a college fund for Juliet and the need to invest in a pension – but Rabbit didn’t care: she’d think about that next year. As it turned out, she didn’t need to think about it at all. Rabbit’s diagnosis became a kind of catalyst in Marjorie’s life: the banking system was already in freefall, but after Rabbit had got sick Marjorie’s world-view began to shift. She lived alone, was often lonely, and the job she had loved had changed into something terrible. Each new day wore her down, but if she could have had one wish, she wouldn’t have asked to change any of that: instead, she’d want to talk to the old Rabbit, the fit, happy, healthy Rabbit, just one last time.

Early in the morning she received the news from Davey that Rabbit had taken a turn for the worse overnight. It wasn’t entirely unexpected but it was still shocking. For a moment or two she wondered what she’d bring her friend. Then reality sank in.
Rabbit doesn’t need anything any more.
She cried a little over breakfast and considered stopping at the local shop and buying a packet of cigarettes so that she could indulge in one to calm her nerves. She hadn’t smoked in ten years.
Don’t do it, Marjorie
.

When she arrived at the hospice, Molly, Jack, Grace, Lenny and the boys were already there. There were too many people to fit into the room. Molly and Jack were with their daughter so she joined Grace in the canteen.

‘Where’s Juliet?’ she asked.

‘Davey’s letting her sleep in. It could be a long day,’ Grace said.

‘Didn’t think I’d have to miss her too,’ Marjorie said, meaning Juliet’s emigration.

‘Me neither.’

Marjorie had had no time for Juliet until she was four, when she had displayed a personality that was a mix of her mother and her nan. Then Marjorie had fallen for her, hook, line and sinker. She didn’t want kids of her own, but now she felt like a mother towards Juliet who, in a small way, she’d helped to rear for all these years. But the plan she’d made to be the best ‘aunt’ in the world had come crashing down. America had changed everything.

Jack appeared, saying he needed a break. ‘Where are the boys?’

‘In the garden,’ Grace said.

‘I need some air,’ he said, and walked out of the room, heading in the wrong direction. Grace didn’t correct him: it didn’t matter where he went – he just needed to move.

‘Do you want to go in?’ Grace asked.

‘Do you mind?’

‘Go.’

The room was silent, except for Rabbit’s breathing. Molly was holding her daughter’s hand. She looked up as Marjorie came in. They didn’t speak. Instead Marjorie sat on the sofa and watched her old friend die. She wanted to say something important and memorable, but Rabbit was the wordsmith, not her. She silently reminisced about the day Rabbit had got into her journalism course – she’d been so happy. Everyone was shocked because she’d never mentioned journalism as something she was interested in. She was always so secretive. No one ever knew what was up until Rabbit wanted them to. She’d come up with the idea on a whim, based on her love of music and a documentary about a music journalist who travelled with a band; she had set her heart on music journalism. That had changed when Johnny died: she’d needed to stay away from all things music for a long time because it was too painful. If things had been different, Marjorie could have seen Johnny the rock star and Rabbit the music journalist turning into one of those celebrated golden couples. Unfortunately they were equipped for greatness but destined to lose. In the years since Johnny had died, Rabbit had rarely talked about him. She pretended she’d let go, but Marjorie knew better and, yes, Rabbit was happy being single, but it was only because nobody else came anywhere close to him in her eyes.

Molly stood up. ‘I’m just going to the loo. Mind her, Marjorie.’ She walked out of the room. Marjorie took her place close to Rabbit.

‘Hey, Rabbit, it’s Marjorie. I just wanted you to know that I’m here, OK? We’re all here.’

Rabbit’s eyes fluttered and her hand jerked.

Marjorie gently placed her hand over her friend’s. ‘I know you hate all the afterlife stuff but I really hope I see you again, because my life without you, pal, well, I don’t know.’

Rabbit’s eyes opened and her breathing changed slightly.
You’ll be OK, Marjorie. Me ma will mind you and you’ll mind her too
.

Marjorie gazed at her intently, waiting for just one word, but she closed her eyes again. ‘Rabbit, if there’s any chance of you surviving, please do it, OK? Please don’t go. I know it’s selfish but I’m an ass, you know that. It’s all about Marjorie . . . so please, please, come back to me. I can do without everything else but I can’t be doing without you,’ she whispered urgently, but if Rabbit heard her she’d never know.

Molly returned and they swapped places.

‘Anything?’ Molly asked.

‘No,’ Marjorie said.

‘She needs her sleep, don’t you, Mammy’s girl?’

‘Excuse me, Mrs H,’ Marjorie said, and left the room.

Grace was worried about her parents. She was worried about Juliet and Davey, and how her own kids were going to handle Rabbit’s passing. She worried where she was going to ditch that fucking caravan and she worried that when the time came she’d be drinking coffee in the canteen, not in her sister’s room. She’d let Marjorie go in because there was still time: she could feel it in her bones.

The boys had insisted on being there. Even Jeffrey had forgotten to complain about having to eat green food since he’d visited Rabbit. Stephen had grown up on her all of a sudden. Bernard was just his usual sweet self, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Ryan was the one she worried most about. He was the kid that disappeared into his own head. He acted like he was doing OK. When he bothered to speak he said all the right things. He was the cleverest of the bunch and maybe even the wisest, but he was also the one whom, when it cut, it cut deepest.

When she couldn’t stand to drink one more coffee she left the canteen to check on Lenny and the boys. Lenny was on the phone to work. Bernard was kicking a ball around and making Jeffrey run after it. Stephen was studying on the bench. Ryan was nowhere to be seen. She panicked a little. She knew he wasn’t four years old and that he could take care of himself, but where was he? She called his name a little hysterically. She didn’t have to call twice because he jumped down from the tree in front of her, landing on both feet, like a cat. They walked on together.

‘You OK, Ma?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘You don’t look it.’

‘Are you OK, Ryan?’

He thought about it for a minute. ‘The last thing I said to my aunt was “I dropped the hand.” It was a shit thing to say.’

‘You made her laugh, and that’s not shit – that’s not shit at all. Even though I’d appreciate it if you had a little more respect for the girl you’re seeing.’

‘We’re not seeing each other.’

‘Oh, my God. Please don’t get anyone pregnant.’

‘Ma, I’m fourteen.’

‘Going on a thousand. Please, Ryan, just tell me if you want to take the next step.’

‘As if,’ he said.

Grace made a mental note to talk to Lenny about talking to Ryan. She’d also ring a helpline and talk to her local GP about when it was appropriate to hand her boy condoms. Stephen had been way more secretive when he was exploring his sexuality, or maybe they’d been more naïve back then, and Bernard, well, Bernard lived on a pitch or in his bedroom playing video games. He still kissed his mammy goodnight and hugged her in front of friends when he scored a goal, going so far as jumping into the air and screaming ‘I love you, Ma’ after he’d scored three in a row. The team still lost because he was right when he complained, bitterly, that he had been the only player on the field. Regardless, that moment had been a highlight for both of them, albeit for different reasons, and it proved, if proof was necessary, that the only girl Bernard was interested in was his ma.

Ryan and Grace walked on. She wondered what was going through his head and then, out of nowhere and for the first time in ages, he offered her some insight.

‘Stephen and Bernard were crying the other night and so was Jeffrey, but Jeffrey’s always crying.’

‘Well, it’s a really sad time.’

‘Why can’t I cry?’

‘Not everyone is a crier.’

‘Everyone
is
a crier – you, Da, Nan, Granda, Davey, Marjorie, Rabbit, Juliet, even Mabel. Everyone is crying. I’m the only one who isn’t. Am I really cold-hearted? Is that why you all think I’ll end up in prison some day?’

‘Ah, no, no, no, Ryan. We think you’re too clever for your own good, that’s all. You are not cold. When Juliet ran away you found her and you comforted her. When we needed a solution to keep her at the house you put yourself in a caravan. When Rabbit needed just that tiny chink of light, you made her laugh. You are not cold and if you end up in prison, which you won’t, it will be white-collar crime all the way.’

‘Thanks, Ma.’

They walked around the edge of the grounds in a circle.

‘I think I’ll invest in that smart kids’ development course.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Why not?’

‘No reason. I love you, son.’

When they got back to the others, Lenny was off the phone, Stephen had abandoned his book, and they were playing football with Bernard and Jeffrey.

‘I got a goal, Ma!’ Jeffrey shouted.

‘Good for you, Jeff.’

‘You all right, Ma?’ Bernard asked.

‘Hanging in there, love.’

Ryan joined the others, allowing Lenny to step out of the game. They sat together on the bench, watching the boys play football.

‘Remember when Jeffrey was born and Ryan tried to sell him to the Noonans?’

‘When they said how cute Jeff was he pointed to the baby, said the immortal words “You want him?” then held out his open hand. “Five euro,”’ Lenny said.

‘Five euro,’ she repeated, and they grinned at the memory.

‘The first pair of football boots Bernard ever got, he slept in them for two weeks. We used to creep into the room just to look at them poke out from under the duvet,’ she said.

‘And the first girl Stephen ever fell for . . .’ Lenny said.

‘He was twelve, she was sixteen,’ Grace said. ‘She gave him a kiss on the cheek and told him she’d wait for him.’

‘And the way Jeffrey used to kick his arms and legs in his sleep when we put music on? It looked like he was drunk-dancing,’ Lenny said, grinning. ‘And that time we put a St Paddy’s Day red beard and hat on Jeff and took a photo. Pity we didn’t YouTube it. It would’ve been a classic.’

‘We’re really lucky, Lenny.’

‘I know.’

‘Sometimes I forget. I bitch and I moan but, honestly, these boys and you . . . I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

‘I know that too.’

Davey called to her from the back door.

‘I should go. One last thing, tell the boys no one refers to Ryan as a criminal again or they’re dead,’ Grace said.

‘You do it all the time,’ Lenny argued.

‘Just deliver the message.’

‘You’re a mental case,’ he said, and waved her off, ‘but you’re my mental case.’

Inside the room, Davey and Grace sat with their sister.

‘Did Ma say if she’d woken at all?’ Grace asked.

‘A second or two, but not really. The doctors are in and out all the time.’

‘Where’s Juliet?’

‘She wanted to buy flowers. She’s with Mabel.’

‘Her new best friend.’

‘Say what you have to say, Grace.’