The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes (32 page)

Lenny had gone to work early. Grace found it hard to drag herself out of bed. She wanted to stay there, cocooned and in stasis. She heard the kids get up, argue over the bathroom, tramp downstairs and bang around in the kitchen. Jeffrey called her a few times but didn’t dare enter her room, which had been a dedicated child-free zone since he had stopped peeing in his bed at the age of three.

Ryan knocked once. ‘Ma, is it OK if I go out with the lads later?’

He was still grounded, but ever since he had broken his curfew to find Juliet, she had felt bad about imposing it. She wanted to answer, but whether to stick to her guns and say no or relent and let him off with her blessing was a dilemma too far, so she stayed silent.

‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ he said, and she was glad he had made the decision for both of them.

She heard the front door slam once, then twice. She couldn’t remember if Stephen had left for the library with his dad or not. It was likely that she was alone. Grace rarely lay on in bed. Usually she was the first downstairs, making breakfast, shouting at the kids to hurry up and planning her day. She left the house at the same time as they did to join her friends for a canal walk or to shop; there was always something. She needed to get up: she had a million things to do before she visited Rabbit but still she couldn’t get out of bed. She was tired, she was awake – perhaps too awake. She could hear the birds singing loudly, she could feel the breeze from the open window tickle the fine hair on her arms, and she could smell Breda-next-door’s honeysuckle. A magpie sat on her windowsill with its back to her, surveying the area and minding his own business.
One for sorrow
. He hung around just long enough to make Grace deeply uncomfortable.
What’s next? A crow?
She didn’t realize she was crying and she certainly didn’t realize she was crying so loudly that her eldest son could hear her from his bedroom down the landing. A knock startled her.

‘Ma?’

She wanted to tell Stephen to go away but she couldn’t catch her breath properly to speak.

‘I’m coming in,’ he warned, more for his sake than hers. He’d heard about Bernard’s scarring encounter with his ma’s breasts. He opened the door gingerly and sat on the floor beside her. He said nothing while she did her best to control herself. When her emotions were finally in check, he offered her some of her own duvet to wipe her face; instead she used the flat of her hands.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

‘Studying in my room.’

‘What about the library?’

‘Too crowded.’

‘You mean too many distractions?’

‘Susan started seeing Peter.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Ah, he’s a nice guy. I’m not for her. So, what are you going to do?’ He hunched his shoulders.

‘I can’t seem to get out of bed,’ Grace said.

‘I’ll help you.’ He stood up and stretched out his hand. She clasped it. He hauled her up and kept hold of her until she was standing.

‘Do your thing. I’ll make you something to eat,’ he said.

‘No, don’t. Go back to your study.’

‘Ma, if I fail, I’ll repeat in August.’

‘What about your trip?’

‘There will be others.’

All the anger she’d felt at his failure to knuckle down during the year dissipated, and suddenly she was overwhelmed with pride.
He’s becoming an adult
.

He had coffee, a boiled egg and toast waiting for her when she finally came down the stairs. He also had laid out the advert about the caravan that Ryan had spotted. He sat beside her at the counter.

‘Nan can’t take Juliet, can she?’

‘She probably doesn’t know it yet, but definitely not.’

‘So, we get the caravan, but instead of Ryan sleeping in it, I will.’

‘Stephen . . .’

‘It’s a short-term solution. I’ll pass these exams, if not next week then next month, and I’ll buckle down next year. I’ll study, get a part-time job and move out.’

‘I’m not pushing you out of your own home.’

‘I’m big and bold enough, Ma.’

Out of nowhere Grace was bawling again.

‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he said, as she rocked and sobbed and snotted into her hands.

‘I know you didn’t. I’m so proud. I’m sorry.’

She moved to hug him but he pulled back. ‘I’ll get you a tissue.’

‘OK, son,’ she managed, then burst into a third wave of tears. He phoned the caravan seller while she pulled herself together. It was still up for sale and not too far away, so she agreed there was no time like the present to go and see it.

Stephen drove and they got lost once, but he quickly worked out an alternative route and they got to the guy’s house in less than half an hour. The caravan was parked in the front garden. It was up on bricks and looked like it might once have been white, but over the years it had turned a weird yellow and grey. It was small.

‘The word is bijou, Ma,’ Stephen said.

They were surveying its shell when the guy came out of his house. He was a small man, bald with a long beard. Immediately Grace thought it odd that such a short person would wear such a long beard.
You look like a wizard or an elf, or an elfin wizard.
He was tanned and had big biceps that emphasized his tiny hands. He wore a fitted biker jacket, even though it was warm and he’d been indoors. Stephen was the first to say hello and shake his hand. His name was Ron and he was friendly, a talker. Once the greetings were dispensed with, Grace remained tight-lipped, letting her son do the business. He took Stephen around the outside of the caravan, pointing out how solid and strong it was. It didn’t seem rusty, at least not to the unprofessional eye, and Ron swore that, aside from slight discoloration, it was as good as the day he had bought it. He opened the door and went inside. Stephen followed, then Grace wedged herself in – it was a real squeeze. Ron stood in one spot, pointing to the dining area-cum-bedroom, the kitchenette, which comprised a cooker, tiny sink and counter, and a shelf with a toaster on it. They shuffled in a line to the bathroom, which was so small that Stephen had to duck and turn sideways to get into it. He was closest to the door so he was first out, followed by Grace, then Ron.

‘She’s a beauty, isn’t she?’ Ron said, without the slightest hint of irony.

‘I like it,’ Stephen said, looking from Ron to his mother, who remained completely unmoved.

‘I mean, a hundred and fifty euro is practically giving her away.’

‘There is the issue of it being up on bricks,’ Stephen said.

‘I have wheels in the garage. They’re pretty threadbare because me and Rhonda here travelled the length and breadth of New Zealand together for four years.’
Ron and Rhonda, Jesus Christ
. ‘They’ll hold to get you home, but if you want to take her travelling you’ll have to buy new ones.’

‘Will you throw in the tyres and the bricks for the hundred and fifty?’ Stephen asked.

‘Absolutely.’

‘What about the contents?’

‘It’s all yours.’

‘All around New Zealand, huh?’ Stephen said.

‘Yeah. Worked as an extra on
Lord of the Rings
, parts one and two.’

‘That makes sense,’ Grace said.

The two men glanced her way; she stared back at them blankly until Stephen re-engaged him. ‘Yeah, serious bit of wear and tear doing that, I’d say.’

‘She’s built for it.’

‘Take fifty off and you have a deal.’

‘No way.’

‘I bet the underside of that van is as bollixed as the tyres.’

The guy looked Stephen up and down. ‘You’re a chancer.’

‘I’ll bet there’s two of us in it.’

‘I’ll take a hundred and twenty-five and it’s a deal.’

‘Done.’

They both seemed very pleased with themselves when they turned to Grace, who was silently crying again.

‘You get into the car, Ma.’ Stephen handed her the keys. She did as she was told and watched Stephen head into the garage with the elfin wizard.

Her phone rang. It was Davey. He’d witnessed Rabbit’s breakthrough pain and it had freaked him out. She tried to calm him down but he was hyper. ‘Is she asleep now?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, they knocked her out. I spoke to the doctor. He says we’d better make preparations.’

Grace was crying again. Her face burned; her jaw and ears ached.

‘I don’t understand. She was having such a good day,’ Davey said.

‘Where’s Juliet?’

‘She’s with her now.’

‘What about Ma and Da?’

‘Rabbit sent them home. Pauline collected them. Where are you, Grace?’

‘Buying a caravan.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Stephen’s going to sleep in the caravan to make room for Juliet.’

‘Keep your money, Grace.’

‘Don’t start again, Davey.’

‘Stop treating me like I’m an idiot. I have just as much right to her as you do.’

‘Grow up, Davey, for fuck’s sake. This is not about you. How many times?’

‘Fuck you, Grace. You think you’re better than me, but she wants to be with me.’

‘Oh, so you told her. Of course you did, why wouldn’t you? Christ, Davey, she needs an adult in her life, not a child.’

She hung up as Stephen crossed the road. He got into the car, clearly chuffed with himself. He didn’t notice his mother’s anger at first but then she mumbled some random curse words under her breath.

‘What?’

‘Fucking Davey.’

‘What about him?’

‘Nothing. Did you do the deal?’

‘He’s going to put the wheels on and I’ll come back and hitch it up with Da later.’

‘You didn’t pay him, did you?’

‘I may be failing but I’m not slow.’ He took off down the road. ‘Where to next?’

‘I want to be with Rabbit.’

‘So that’s where we’ll go.’

Before Rabbit had got sick, Grace had used the excuse that she hated hospitals to avoid going to see anyone she knew, no matter how deep the friendship or the connection. It was a fear, she told them, a genuine honest-to-God phobia, even. The truth was that it wasn’t the hospital that freaked her out, it was the sick people in it. She hated the smells, the wasted bodies and the cries for help. She despised the vulnerability and the indignity. Grace had never been sick in her life and, much like her mother, she had been made for childbirth so she never spent more than two days in a maternity unit. She’d always gone private, the only real luxury she’d ever insisted upon. She’d wanted to have her baby in her own room with an en-suite and a fridge for her celebratory vodka. Grace didn’t believe in breastfeeding. She had been reared on the bottle and it had been good enough for her – besides, she wasn’t the kind of woman to lob out a tit in Tesco. Rabbit had breastfed Juliet. She’d read the books and gone to the classes. She’d even joined a breastfeeding group, which, of course, Grace and Davey had made fun of, but she didn’t care. Rabbit had always forged her own path and to hell with everyone else. It was one of Grace’s favourite things about her sister.

The first time Rabbit had got sick, Grace hadn’t been to see her. She’d made that terrible excuse and Rabbit was kind enough to accept it, but Marjorie had been there for her the whole time and Rabbit didn’t really need anyone else when Marjorie was around. It was only when the cancer had spread that Grace had become scared. Breast cancer is curable and everything was going to be fine. It was no big deal until it wasn’t curable and it was a big deal, and by then Grace had felt so guilty
she
had wanted to die. Since then she’d been doing everything she could to make it up to Rabbit. She’d sat with her during her chemotherapy, waited for her during radiation. She’d been the last to see her before she went under anaesthetic and the first there when she woke. She had sat by so many beds during the past few years she couldn’t count them, and sick people didn’t frighten her any more. The only thing that frightened Grace Black was death.

Mabel was playing solitaire on the bed when Rabbit woke up.

‘Wow, you’re lazy,’ Mabel said, without taking her eyes off the cards.

‘What time is it?’ Rabbit asked.

‘A little after four fifteen p.m.’

‘Where’s Juliet?’

Mabel put down her cards, grabbed a swab lollipop and wiped it over Rabbit’s cracked lips. ‘Davey took her to get something to eat. The poor thing has been just sitting there staring at you for hours.’

Rabbit sucked the lemon and glycerine lolly as Mabel talked. ‘Can you take her later?’ she asked.

‘Juliet? Sure.’

‘I need you to tell Davey to make sure all the family, including Marjorie, are here tonight.’ Rabbit was speaking in a rush: getting through the sentence was a matter of urgency.

‘OK.’

‘They have to wake me or wait for me.’

‘I’ll tell them.’

‘I’m really tired, Mabel.’

‘Go back to sleep.’

‘You’ll make sure?’

‘I promise they’ll be here.’

‘Thank you,’ Rabbit said, and relaxed. She took a moment to focus on Mabel’s Gothic-rock inspired T-shirt. ‘Nice T-shirt.’

‘Picked it up in a vintage store in . . .’

Rabbit was already asleep.

Back in the day, before Johnny was sick, whenever the boys toured the routine was always the same. Uncle Terry would pick them up at Davey’s and they’d pile the gear from the garage into the van. Johnny was always the first in to secure the best possible spot, Francie and Jay next, then Louis or Kev, depending on whether it was a Kitchen Sink or Sound gig. Davey was always last because he was shitting his brains out or fucking around in his house – he had always forgotten something. It was driving the lads mad. To teach Davey a lesson and to encourage him not to waste their time, they came up with a simple solution. Uncle Terry’s van was partitioned: once he was up front he couldn’t see or hear the lads, so he relied on one of them tapping the inside of the van to signal they were all on board and ready for him to drive away. The lads always waited until Davey was just about to step on board before one or all of them hit the side of the van and Uncle Terry took off, leaving Davey on the road shouting, running and risking his life to jump into a speeding van with its back doors flapping. He wasn’t the quickest learner in the world, but after five or six near-death experiences, he copped on and was never last into the van again.