The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes (23 page)

‘Won’t that make you sad?’

‘Nah, I bloody hate bras.’

‘And you could do with another wig.’

‘You don’t like my wig?’

‘I do, but it’s nice to have options.’

‘Wouldn’t even know what else to go for.’

‘What colour hair has Susan Sarandon?’

‘Red.’

‘You’d look lovely with red hair, Ma.’

‘So if I can’t have her booby-doos I can still have her hair?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I like it.’

That night they watched the DVD of
Thelma & Louise
together, and they’d watched it many times since. They quoted lines to each other when things got rough.

When they did get around to shopping for training bras and wigs, they discovered Juliet was already a 28B. ‘Oh, Juliet’s going to have big Grace-type booby-doos.’

‘I am not.’

‘Are so. You’re going to need to wear bras the size of small children’s tents.’

Juliet laughed. ‘Will not.’

But then her ma became serious. ‘It doesn’t matter what size they are. You’re perfect.’

‘So are you, Ma.’

‘That’s right.’

It turned out that blonde wigs suited better than red ones, but Juliet and her ma had a great time re-enacting their own version of the last scene of
Thelma & Louise
in the shop, much to the assistants’ entertainment. Juliet, wearing a brown wig, turned to her mother really seriously: ‘Ma, let’s keep goin’.’

Her ma fixed her red wig. ‘What do ya mean, Juliet?’

Juliet looked forward and nodded. ‘I mean go, Ma.’

Her ma pretended to rev the invisible car they were supposed to be sitting in. ‘Now are you sure?’

‘Yeah, Ma, let’s do it.’

Her ma pretended to push the gas, they clasped hands, ran forward and fell onto their knees. ‘The End,’ Juliet said to the ladies, who were clapping enthusiastically.

‘Those two girls really knew how to turn suicide into a happy ending,’ the larger lady said. Juliet and her ma took a bow, then Ma exchanged the red wig for the blonde.

That evening they dined in their favourite restaurant, Juliet in her brand-new bra and Ma in her blonde wig.

‘That man is staring at you, Ma.’ A waiter’s eyes were trained on her.

‘Still got it, Bunny.’ Her ma had winked.

It had been a great day, one of Juliet’s best. She told herself that there would be plenty more days like it, but she was scared that she was wrong. Each day her ma spent in that hospice she felt a little more distant from her.
When are you coming back to me, Ma? I don’t work without you.

Juliet was back from the hospice and reading in her nan’s spare room when she heard the front doorbell ring and Stephen’s voice saying ‘Hi’ to Nan.

‘Juliet, your cousins are here for you,’ Molly shouted.

Juliet went to the top of the stairs. ‘What?’

‘Stephen and Bernard are going to some flower show in the park near them.’

‘I just want to read.’

‘It’s a lovely day and they’ve come for you, so here’s your jacket. You’re going.’

Juliet looked from her nan to Grace, who was standing beside her, grinning widely.

‘There’s a carnival – well, a few swings and a waltzer.’

Outside, Bernard beeped the horn. Juliet walked down the stairs. Her nan handed her the jacket and she walked out of the door in silence. The lads were waiting in the car. She got into the back seat and Stephen took off down the road.

‘I thought you were studying,’ Juliet said.

‘Needed a break.’

‘So you chose to go to a flower show with me and Bernard?’ Juliet said, and her tone reflected her doubt.

‘Hey, I’m good company,’ Bernard said, feigning hurt feelings.

‘And so are you,’ Stephen added.

‘Hmm.’

Stephen switched on the CD and turned it up really loud. Bernard sang along and played air guitar.

When they arrived at the park the boys were starving.

‘Let’s eat first,’ Stephen said. They found a food tent they liked the look of and Juliet followed them inside. It was a fiver a head for all you could eat, so the two boys were in seventh heaven, sitting at a wooden table with mounds of food in front of them. Juliet picked at a burger.

Bernard pointed to the toffee fudge on a table behind Juliet. ‘When I’m done with this, I’m going for a boatload of that fudge.’

Juliet looked over her shoulder. ‘Ma loves fudge.’

‘Grab her a bag,’ he said.

‘I will.’

‘You can get her a plant, if you like,’ Stephen suggested.

‘They don’t like plants in hospitals, but I suppose I could get it for when she comes home.’

‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ Bernard said, a little too enthusiastically.

Stephen kicked him under the table. Juliet pretended not to notice.

‘Stephen, what are you going to do when your exams are finished?’

‘Well, I was thinking of going to Germany with some friends to work, but I can’t really go anywhere until . . .’ He stopped.

‘Until what?’ Juliet said.

‘Until I sort out me passport,’ he said, and Bernard raised his eyes to Heaven.

‘What’s wrong with your passport?’

‘Have you ever thought of working as an interrogator?’ Stephen asked.

‘No,’ Juliet said.

‘Well, you should. You’d be very good.’

‘Don’t think so. I haven’t got one straight answer out of you yet.’

‘Let’s go on the waltzer,’ Bernard suggested.

‘What do you think?’ Stephen asked her.

Juliet nodded. ‘OK.’

‘But we’ll get the fudge first,’ Bernard said. ‘Don’t want to risk missing out.’

After they’d got their fudge and a plant for Juliet’s ma, she excused herself to go to the toilet before they ventured on the waltzer.

Bernard and Stephen waited by the ticket office. ‘You nearly landed us right in it earlier.’

‘Oh, really, Mr Over-enthusiastic? “Yeah, amazing, brilliant, what a fantastic idea!” You really know how to keep your cool.’

‘Well, at least I didn’t almost say that I couldn’t make travel plans until Rabbit died.’

‘What?’

They turned to see their younger cousin’s huge eyes full to the brim and overflowing. Their hearts sank.

‘N-nothing,’ Stephen stammered.

‘We were just messing around.’

‘No, you weren’t.’ She dropped the plant and ran away from them as fast as she could. She darted in and out of the crowd, managing to disappear without a trace in a matter of seconds. When it became clear that they had lost her, the boys split up and searched the park high and low. Eventually they had to concede that they had really messed up.

Marjorie had always hated Sundays. In the eighties, very few children had escaped mass and she hadn’t been among them. Every week she was made to wear a stupid striped dress and blue patent shoes, and was dragged kicking and screaming to church. The service seemed to last for ever, the smell of incense turned her stomach, and when her mother insisted on singing every hymn louder than the one before, it annoyed her to the point of murder. If God really had the power to delve into Marjorie’s head, and if He was as vindictive as advertised, He would have struck her down where she stood.

Sunday dinner was another endurance test. Marjorie hated meat, particularly beef, but a meatless diet was not tolerated in 1980s Ireland. She was force-fed a big slab of beef, roast potatoes drowned in gravy, then sent out to the garden to play, rain or shine, because TV was only for adults on a Sunday. All the shops were closed so she sat on the wall and read a book until her saviour, Rabbit, cycled along, put her on the back of her bike and pedalled her to freedom.

Marjorie was an only child to two very conservative parents. She grew up in a picture-perfect little house that gleamed inside and out. She wore the very best clothes and was always pristine. Marjorie looked like a little doll because, to her mother, that was what she was: something pretty to dress up and show off. But dolls don’t have personalities, they don’t rebel or ask questions, they don’t have opinions or, God forbid, come home dirty. If her mother wasn’t cleaning, she was reading or praying, and her father worked on the ships, so he was rarely at home. When he was in the house, Marjorie was told he needed his rest so she had to keep quiet and stay out of his way. She didn’t know her father very well then, and she didn’t know him now. Rabbit had once joked that he was the kind of man who probably had a family in every port. Marjorie had laughed, but it had made her wonder.

Marjorie was very well cared for but there was no warmth in her house. Rabbit’s world was so much brighter, grubbier and real. In Rabbit’s house, nobody had to take an aspirin and go to bed if Rabbit spilled something on her dress. In Rabbit’s house there were hugs and laughter, and it didn’t matter what you wore, what you did or what state you turned up in: nothing was a problem, everything was solvable.

Rabbit had a very glamorous life, as far as young Marjorie was concerned. She had a cool older sister and brother, and the fact that Davey was in a band with other cool boys was a bonus. For three birthdays in a row, when Marjorie blew out her candles, she wished to be a member of the Hayes family.

Some Sundays the band would rehearse, and she’d sit behind the curtain with Rabbit and listen to them. They were the best Sundays. Even though she was still half choked on a lump of beef, she felt lucky and honoured – better than that, she felt included. Mrs Hayes let her change into one of Rabbit’s tracksuits so she didn’t have to worry about dirtying her Sunday best.

Then there were those terrible Sundays when Marjorie was forced to stay at home because some relation she didn’t know or care about would visit for the afternoon. She’d be forced to Irish-dance for them, then take out her medals and plaques. She’d sit quietly while the adults talked, and only spoke when spoken to, which rarely happened. Those were some of the longest days of Marjorie Shaw’s life.

When Marjorie left home, she stopped going to mass. She became a vegetarian and spent a lot of Sundays shopping, lunching, going to movies, matches, anything to fill the void, but still she couldn’t shake that awful Sunday feeling.

It was after ten a.m. when the doorbell rang. She answered it, fully expecting to see Simone from the apartment next door looking to borrow something, but it was her ex-husband, Neil. Marjorie’s heart leaped in her chest.

‘I rang the wrong bell. Simone let me in downstairs.’
Of course she did, stupid Simone. That’s the last teabag you borrow from me, Simone Duffy.

‘I was going to phone you,’ he said, ‘but I didn’t think you’d pick up.’

She hesitated.
Should I slam the door in his face or not? Yes or no? To slam or not to slam? Jesus, he looks great
.

‘Come in.’ No need to be childish.
The separation is done with, the divorce is just a formality. There’s nothing left to fight about . . . so why is he here?

She led him into the kitchen. He hadn’t been here before. He looked around and took it in. ‘Nice place,’ he said.

‘Tiny place,’ she said. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
Of course you wouldn’t. Just stab me, rob me or send me on another guilt trip and go home.

‘I’d love one.’

Balls.
Marjorie turned on the kettle. He sat down. She spooned coffee into two mugs. ‘I’m afraid instant will have to do.’
Because the sooner you drink this, the sooner you leave.

‘Instant is fine. You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.’

Ya think?
Marjorie didn’t respond.

‘I came because I heard about Rabbit.’

‘Oh.’ Neil had taken the wind from her sails. He was always fond of Rabbit, even during the split. In fact, Rabbit saw more redeeming features in Neil than Marjorie did and was always quick to defend him. He knew that and appreciated it.

‘I just wanted to say that I’m so very sorry.’

‘Oh.’
Don’t cry, don’t cry, please, don’t cry.

The kettle boiled. Marjorie pulled herself together and poured the water into the mugs. ‘Do you still take it black?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘Me too.’
Why did I say that?
They sat down at the counter and she passed him his mug.

‘How is she?’

‘Bad.’
Do not cry
.

‘Does she have long?’

She shook her head.

‘Are you OK?’

‘No.’

‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘So far Rabbit Hayes is the love of your life.’

‘Yeah, she is,’ Marjorie admitted, because it was true. Marjorie did love her best friend more than anyone or anything else in this world.

‘I used to envy her,’ he said.

‘Not any more.’

‘Look, Marjorie, I know there’s a lot of water under the bridge and we’ve both said and done a lot of hurtful things.’

‘I’ve done them, you’ve said them.’

‘Well, yes, but I just wanted to say that I really hope you’ll be OK.’

‘Thank you, Neil.’

He put down the mug and stood up. ‘I should go. Elaine is waiting in the car.’

‘It was nice of her to let you come here.’

‘She has nothing to fear.’

His comment should have hurt, but it didn’t.

‘I’m really happy for you.’

She followed him out to the door. Just as he was leaving he turned to hug her, taking her by surprise.

‘Tell Rabbit I send my love.’ His voice was laced with tears.

‘I will,’ she stumbled.

‘I hope you find someone, Marjorie.’ He kissed her cheek, and when he was gone she wasn’t sure what to think or what to do, so she sat on the hall floor and banged her head gently against the wall.

When Marjorie had moved into her apartment she’d got rid of her car. She didn’t need one and Rabbit had introduced her to the benefits of cycling around the city. She really enjoyed it, even in winter, but it made life awkward on rare occasions like today, when she needed to be at Rabbit’s parents’ house. It was too far to cycle and there was no direct bus route. She had intended to get a taxi there and back, but Davey had said he’d pick her up – after all, he’d insisted she was there in the first place.

Now she stood up, showered, dressed and waited for him. Briefly she considered what would have happened if her exhusband had bumped into the man she had cheated with in the narrow corridor outside her apartment.
A fist fight? Maybe not
. Neil was happy, probably much happier than he’d been with the woman who hadn’t appreciated him.
He wouldn’t punch Davey: he’d probably thank him.
Her doorbell rang. She answered on the intercom.