The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes (17 page)

‘Thanks.’

‘And I took him for a run before I visited Rabbit.’

‘Did he run or did he just hold his side and complain?’

‘There was a bit of that but he’s getting better. You need to stop worrying about the kids. You’ve enough on your mind.’

‘Honestly, it’s sorting the problems with the kids that keeps me going. If I allowed myself to think about Rabbit every minute of every day, I swear to God I’d be joining Sheila B in the nut-house.’

They were both exhausted. Grace had spent an uncomfortable night on the sofa in Rabbit’s room. She hadn’t intended on staying but Rabbit had woken just as she was leaving and it was nice to have her sister to herself. They’d talked about Francie, how funny he was and how lovely it was to see him. They’d reminisced about his wedding and what a great time everyone had had, even poor Johnny, who’d been in a wheelchair by then. They’d talked about Rabbit’s wigs and J.Lo’s arse, where it had all gone wrong for Michael Jackson and why Pakistan held the rest of the world by the nuts. She’d fallen asleep again after about an hour of chat and by then it was easier for Grace to stay snuggled under the blanket Jacinta had provided. It was also nice to be there, listening to Rabbit breathe in and out.

Grace knew Lenny couldn’t sleep properly without her in the bed. He’d known where she was: she had texted him, told him she loved him too, apologized and said she was staying, but he had tossed and turned all night, she was sure. Lenny was a fixer by nature. If Grace or his kids had a problem he would rack his brains to find a solution and wouldn’t rest until he had made things better. He couldn’t make this better and it was paralysing.

Eventually they fell asleep and were woken by Bernard’s horrified scream. Lenny shot straight up in the bed and Grace automatically covered her exposed breasts.

‘Ah, me eyes, me fucking eyes!’ Bernard said.

‘Don’t say that word,’ Grace said.

‘Don’t flash your tits, Ma, and I won’t.’

‘Don’t come barrelling into our private room without knocking,’ Lenny said.

‘It’s disgusting.’ He was backing out. ‘Shouldn’t be allowed.’ He closed the door behind him.

Grace and Lenny looked at one another and laughed.

Davey sat drinking coffee by the bay window, staring out onto the green. As a kid, he’d always loved Saturday. It was his absolute favourite day. Every other day he’d have to be dragged kicking and screaming from his bed, but on Saturday he’d been a morning person. He’d wake naturally at nine and, still in his pyjamas, he’d rush down the stairs to make his cereal. Just as he finished it, Rabbit would meet him in the sitting room. She’d curl up on the sofa and he’d sit on the floor in front of Da’s armchair and they’d wait for the show to start. Neither ever had much to say to the other at that hour of the morning, but as the yellow BBC clock appeared and the announcer said, ‘Now, at nine thirty, it’s
Swap Shop
,’ they had whooped and raised their hands in a tiny uncoordinated Mexican wave.

The show ran for two hours and forty-five minutes. By the time it ended, the whole house was up and noise leaked from everywhere. Grace would insist on vacuuming as soon as she was upright; Davey’s ma would be talking to one friend or another on the phone in the kitchen while Da listened to the radio blaring and made a big Saturday fry-up for everyone. As the world outside invaded the sitting room, Davey and Rabbit would move as close as possible to the TV, both sitting cross-legged on the floor gazing upwards, until their ma entered with their fry-ups and screamed at them to get back into their chairs before their eyeballs exploded or their heads caught fire from the static.

Davey had loved those noisy, happy, exciting mornings, but he especially loved it when it was quiet and he and Rabbit waited, full of anticipation, for an almost always brilliant show.

Afterwards he’d get dressed and run out onto the green where some of the local lads would be starting a game of football. He wasn’t a bad player, not as good as his da in his day but definitely better than most of the other kids on the road. His skills made him popular and he was often fought over by the teams, which made him feel really good.

‘Hayes is on mine.’

‘He is in his hole.’

‘He was with you last week.’

‘So?’

‘So.’

Once in a while there would be a scrap and he’d have to intervene. After a particularly nasty altercation Bobby Nugent had gone home with a broken nose, and Davey’s ma had decreed that, from there on in, all players would be picked out of a hat. The boys had grumbled, but not one of them dared challenge Davey’s ma. After that Davey had felt less of a star but, to be fair, no one went home crying either so it was a decent enough trade-off. He had spent many happy Saturdays running around the green all day, only stopping when his ma made him eat a sandwich and drink a bottle of orange. Saturday was trash-food day in the Hayes household and the girls really appreciated an unhealthy alternative to their usual wholesome diet. At seven he was called in for his bath and by nine he was sitting in front of his favourite show of all time,
Starsky and Hutch
. Rabbit wasn’t allowed to watch that, which made the experience all the sweeter. And even though he’d played on the green through spring, summer, autumn and winter, when he reminisced it was always sunny in his head.

‘What are you looking at?’ Juliet asked from the doorway, following his eyes to the empty green.

‘The past.’ He stood up.

‘Me ma said you were a local legend.’

‘For a very short time.’

‘Aren’t drummers in successful American country bands considered local legends?’

‘No.’

‘Oh. Do you still know anyone around here?’

‘Nah. Before I left the only people I hung with were the band.’

‘Francie, Jay and Johnny,’ she said, and he nodded. ‘What about Louis?’

‘He always had his own life.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Just that. The four of us were tight, brothers, but Louis, he was in it to win it, and when it all went pear-shaped, he was the first to leave.’

Juliet sat down on the sofa and curled her feet under her, like her mother used to do. ‘Was Ma a good sound engineer?’

‘Who told you about that?’

‘Francie.’

He smiled to himself.

‘Well? Was she good?’ she persisted.

‘She was the best money could buy.’

‘She worked for free.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Ah, Davey.’ She threw a cushion at him.

He caught it and threw it back to her. ‘I’m only joking. She was good at sound and she was even better at intimidating the other sound guys.’

‘And that’s an important skill?’

‘You’ve no idea how important.’

Juliet nodded. ‘Do you think I could intimidate some sound guys?’

‘Juliet, you are a Hayes woman. You could intimidate Attila the Hun if you put your mind to it.’

Juliet seemed happy to hear that. She picked fluff off the sofa for a minute or two.

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Dunno.’

‘What would you like to do when you grow up?’

‘Plan A, cure cancer. Don’t really have a plan B.’

‘Do you like school?’

‘Hate it.’

‘Me too.’

‘I was expecting you to bang on about how important it is.’

‘I got thrown out when I was fourteen so I’m hardly going to preach to you.’

‘Were you scared?’

‘I was too stupid to be scared.’

‘Did you always want to be a drummer?’

‘Not always, but once I got my first set of drums, it was the only thing I ever wanted to do.’

‘I hope that happens for me.’

‘It will.’

‘Thanks, Davey.’ She got up. ‘Is it OK if I go back to bed? I’m really tired.’

He nodded. ‘I’ll be here when you wake up.’ When she left he returned his gaze to the empty green
. It would have been full by now and our third game in. Fucking internet.

All the way home in the car, Jack thought about the gravity of their situation.
Now the charlatan’s refused to take our money we’re really screwed.
The time for hope, fight and pretence was nearing its conclusion. They had hit the wall.
What now?
It didn’t compute.
A future without Rabbit, it’s not possible.
But his brain couldn’t conjure even one more possible solution.

‘We could always drive the car into the sea,’ Molly said, out of nowhere, as though she was reading his mind. ‘It would be unfair on the kids but at least we’d get to go first, the way Nature fucking intended,’ she added.

‘I’ve always liked Dollymount Strand,’ he said.

‘Me too.’

‘Howth is pretty at this time of year. And there are some lovely spots in Wicklow.’

‘I won’t survive this, Jack,’ Molly said, allowing unbridled tears to flow. Jack pulled into the side of the motorway, turned on his hazard lights and faced his wife. He wanted to say something comforting but he couldn’t think straight because his heart was beating so fast and his head was buzzing so loudly that, for a second, he imagined he was having a heart attack.
Oh, hell, no, don’t do that to Molly
.

‘Jack?’

‘Molly.’

‘Oh, God, Jack. What?’

And all of a sudden the dam inside him broke and he burst into tears. Molly clasped him and they held each other awkwardly, crying like babies on the side of the motorway and all the while the radio played Britney Spears’s ‘Born To Make You Happy’.

By the time they reached the hospice car park, Molly had recovered sufficiently to visit Rabbit. Jack was still so raw he asked her if it would be all right if he stayed in the garden for a bit.

‘Of course.’

They kissed, and then he watched her walk away from him, admiring her steel.
I wish I was so strong
. Now that all hope had been snatched away, he was afraid he would distance himself again, but he knew he couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t be the same guy everyone had worried about on the day Rabbit had entered the hospice; even Rabbit had worried for him, which was nonsense. He needed to pull himself together. He had to be there for his daughter during this, the worst of times, even though every fibre of his being was willing him to get into the car and drive it to Dollymount, Howth or one of those nice spots in Wicklow.
Come on, Jack, stop acting like a child.
He crossed the car park and entered the reception area. Fiona wasn’t there. Instead he was greeted by a man, who introduced himself as Luke.

‘Nice to meet you, Luke. I’m Jack Hayes, Rabbit’s father. I was hoping to talk with Rita Brown, if she’s available.’

‘I’ll just check for you now. Take a seat, Jack.’

Jack did as he was told. He was reading the newspaper when Rita appeared. She smiled and shook his hand. ‘How are you, Jack?’ she asked. He filled up. ‘Follow me,’ she said. They went down a long corridor to an office with her name on it. Once inside, she pointed him to a comfortable chair. ‘How about a coffee?’ she asked. ‘Or tea if you’d rather?’

‘I’m fine.’

She sat down in a chair opposite his. ‘I don’t think you’re fine.’

‘Rabbit is dying,’ his voice was trembling, ‘and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.’

‘That’s right.’

‘I can’t watch her die.’

‘It’s going to be hard.’

‘It’s not hard. It’s impossible.’

‘Nothing is impossible.’

‘OK. So if nothing is impossible it’s still possible to save her.’ His tone reflected his anger.

‘Some things are impossible.’

‘I can’t do this.’

‘You can.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You have to.’

‘Are you sure you’re qualified?’ he asked, and she chuckled a little.

‘Rabbit told me you brought her into the world.’

Jack closed his eyes and told himself not to cry. ‘I did.’

‘You must have been terrified.’

‘I was.’

‘But you did it anyway.’

‘I had no choice. It had to be done.’ His lips trembled and his eyelids burned.

‘I’m not going to labour the point.’

‘I appreciate that.’

‘You have a lovely family, Jack, so hang on to one another.’

He nodded and wiped away the last tears he’d allow himself that day. He stood up and shook her hand. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’m available whenever you need me.’

He walked from her room to the bathroom. He washed his face and straightened himself up. He ate a small salad in the canteen, then bought a chicken roll and a cup of tea for his wife. Before he headed into his daughter’s bedroom, he picked up a pretty beige floppy rabbit from the gift shop.

The car pulled into the driveway and Juliet got out. Davey was listening to a soccer match on the radio so she went inside on her own. She hadn’t been home since the accident. There was still some blood on the kitchen floor so she found a cloth and cleaned it, rubbing vigorously to get rid of the thick globules that had formed in the grouting.

Someone moved the mop behind her. She swung round, holding her heart. ‘Christ, Kyle, you frightened the shite out of me.’

‘Sorry.’ He mopped where she’d been rubbing.

‘What is it with you and sneaking up on people lately?’

‘I don’t manage to sneak up on anyone else.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means that maybe you’re living in your head.’

‘I am not.’

‘I shouted “Hello” when I came through the door and I’ve been whistling the theme tune to
Dora the Explorer
.’

‘Not loudly.’

‘So why does everyone else tell me to shut up?’

‘Habit,’ she said.

‘It’s OK if you’re stuck in your own head. I would be too.’

She stood up and brushed herself off. ‘I really wish you’d stop feeling sorry for me. So me ma got sick and then broke her leg. It’s not the end of the world.’

Kyle put away the mop. ‘Lost me race this morning.’

‘Sorry to hear it.’

‘I’ve been losing a lot lately.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t know.’

‘Do you care?’

‘Big time.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Me da says I’m not focused.’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think I’m not good enough.’