The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes (27 page)

‘The local paedophile,’ Ryan said, shining the light on his face. ‘Wha-ha-ha.’

‘Please go away.’ She covered her face with the blanket. She heard him sit down.

‘This place is smaller and smellier than I remember,’ he said.

She didn’t answer. Ryan had let her down when he hadn’t wanted to hang out with her any more, but he’d really hurt her when she had gone to stay in his house. He was the only cousin who hadn’t made an effort to talk to her or welcome her. Even pre-diabetic, half-starved and traumatized Jeffrey had tried. Ryan had just walked out of every room she entered and it killed her. She had wondered what she had done wrong, but she hadn’t asked him – he hadn’t been near her long enough for her to be able to. He poked her with the torchlight.

‘Leave me alone,’ she said.

‘Can’t.’

‘Really? You’ve been doing a good job of it up to now.’

‘Sorry.’

She lowered her blanket. ‘Why?’

‘Because everyone was lying to you and I didn’t want to.’

She sat up and rested her back against the playhouse wall. He was sitting opposite. ‘How long has everyone known?’ she asked.

‘Pretty much since your ma broke her leg. They just didn’t want to believe it, that’s all.’

‘Does she know?’ Juliet asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Why didn’t she tell me?’

‘She wants to. She will. I suppose it’s hard.’

‘How long?’

‘Not long.’

‘Well, what’s not long?’ Juliet said, her eyes filling and her voice trembling with panic.

‘I don’t know, Juliet. Nobody tells me anything. I have to work out what I can from earwigging.’

‘Maybe they’re wrong.’

‘They’re not wrong. Stephen and Bernard said she looked mental last night.’

‘She’s not mental!’ Juliet shouted angrily at him.

‘I didn’t mean that, and you know it. She looks like she’s dying because she is.’

Juliet’s tears ran down her face. ‘But she can’t. I don’t want her to.’

‘It doesn’t matter what you want.’

‘Easy for you to say – you have two parents. I hate you.’ She stood up. ‘I really hate you.’ She moved to run outside but he got up quickly and blocked the door. ‘Get out of my way.’

‘No.’

‘Ryan, I’m serious.’

‘No.’

‘I’ll kick you.’

‘So kick me.’

‘I really will.’

‘So do it.’

She kicked him in the shin so hard he crumpled to the floor. ‘Holy shit, Juliet, what the hell?’

‘I told you I’d do it.’

‘I think you’ve broken it.’ He was clutching his leg and wearing a pained expression.

Juliet was concerned. She couldn’t leave him lying there, especially if she’d broken a bone. ‘Show me.’

He stretched it out slowly and made whimpering noises when she pulled up the leg of his jeans. She took the torch from him and examined it closely. It was really red and there would be a shocking bruise, but it wasn’t broken.

‘You’ll live,’ she said, and burst out into loud and messy crying. Ryan sat beside her in silence while she cried her eyes out.

‘It’s going to be OK,’ he said.

‘No, it’s not.’

‘I know it will. You’ll have to trust me.’

The light went on in the kitchen. He crossed to the window and peered out. ‘It’s Davey,’ he said, sitting down beside her. ‘Me ma is losing her mind, Stephen and Bernard are going mental, and everyone’s really worried about you.’

‘They shouldn’t have lied.’

‘You lied too.’

‘I did not.’

‘Don’t play games with me, Juliet Hayes. You knew.’

Juliet nodded and the last tear she had left inside her slid down her face. ‘I just wanted it to go away.’

‘Well, it won’t.’

‘I think we should go inside now,’ she said, and Ryan followed her out of the damp wooden playhouse.

When Davey saw them walk into the kitchen, his face lit up. Without a word, he came over to them and took them both in his arms. Ryan pushed him off. ‘Seriously, Davey.’

But Juliet stayed in his embrace and they held each other tight. He kissed her head. ‘You’re home now,’ he said.

Ryan had snuck out and was long gone when they broke free. ‘I’m sorry for worrying everyone,’ Juliet said.

She was freezing so Davey ran her a bath and she could hear him talking to Grace on the phone from the hallway. When he discovered there was nothing edible in the cupboards, he shouted up the stairs that he was going to the shops. Juliet lay there surrounded by bubbles, warm and exhausted. She didn’t fall asleep but she did disappear into herself. When she heard the door open, she dragged herself out and dressed in her own bedroom. It was the same room as it always had been, but she felt like a stranger in her own home. Nothing seemed real or hers. Davey called her. She arrived in the kitchen in her pyjamas and dressing-gown. He had made her an omelette.

‘Just eat as much as you can,’ he said, but Juliet was hungry so she finished most of it.

‘You’re a good cook,’ she said.

‘If you like eggs, pasta and shepherd’s pie, I’m your man.’

‘What’s going to happen to me, Davey?’

‘I don’t know yet, Juliet, but I promise that, whatever happens, you’ll have your say.’

‘I just want me ma.’

‘I know you do, kiddo.’

‘That’s what me granda calls her.’

Juliet lay in her bed that night, her uncle Davey in the spare room. She tossed and turned and watched the night become morning, knowing it was probably the last night she’d ever spend in her own home. Just before dawn she walked out of her room and into her mother’s. She slipped into her bed and smelt her perfume on the duvet and sheets. She hugged the pillows and it was there that she finally fell asleep.

IT HAD BEEN
a long time since Davey had had trouble with a nervous gut, but when he opened Juliet’s bedroom door and discovered she wasn’t there he very nearly shat himself. He recovered quickly when he found her sleeping soundly in the middle of her mother’s double bed. He took the breakfast he’d made back to the kitchen and scraped the food into the bin to allow her to sleep on. He put the kettle on and spoke to Grace on the phone while he drank his coffee. She was still very upset that her two sons had lost her dying sister’s only child, and even though it appeared that Ryan had saved the day, he had imparted very little about Juliet’s state of mind. ‘He said, “Her ma’s dying, what do you think?” Then he went to bed,’ Grace said.

‘She’s asleep in her mother’s bed,’ Davey said.

‘Ah, God, that’s so sad.’

‘I was thinking maybe the two of us could stay here until Rabbit passes.’

Grace fell silent at the other end of the line.

‘Juliet’s whole world is crumbling around her and this is her home.’

‘You’re not going to give up on taking her, are you?’

‘No.’

‘Ma and Da won’t have it, Davey.’

‘I think they will.’

‘You’re dreaming.’

‘Maybe.’

Davey heard the front door open while Grace was still on the phone. Molly entered the kitchen. She was haggard. ‘Ma’s here,’ he said.

Grace moaned. ‘She’s going to kill me.’

‘No, she’s not – you’re not going to kill Grace, are ya, Ma?’ Davey said.

‘No. I’m going to kill her kids,’ Molly said, putting on the kettle.

Davey put down the phone and took over making coffee for his mother. She removed her coat and sat at the kitchen table.

‘Juliet?’

‘She’s still sleeping. Have you eaten?’

‘I had some toast. It’s still stuck in me throat.’ She wrung her hands, then ran them through her hair. ‘We need to bring her to the hospice. Rabbit missed her last night.’

‘I know, Ma. Just another half-hour.’

Molly nodded. Davey handed her a coffee and sat down beside her. ‘Did you have her blessed last night?’ Davey asked.

‘She was a little too agitated. I thought if she woke up in the middle of it we’d be going to two funerals.’

‘You should leave it, Ma.’

‘Can’t.’

‘Speaking of—’

‘No, Davey, you’re not taking Juliet to America.’

‘What if I stayed here?’

Molly laid a hand on his cheek. ‘You were always so kind, Davey, but your life is over there, son.’

‘My life is wherever I choose it to be. We could keep this house.’

‘Rabbit is a freelance journalist and a single mother. She rents it.’

‘So I’ll buy it.’

Neither Davey nor Molly heard Juliet’s footsteps on the stairs or hallway. She was standing next to them before they knew it.

‘Juliet! You nearly scared me half to death,’ Molly said.

‘You must be hungry?’ Davey asked her.

‘Nan.’

‘Yes, love.’

‘I want to live with Davey.’

‘Davey can’t stay here, love.’

‘I know. I want to leave with him.’

Molly looked as if she was either about to cry or box Davey in the face, he wasn’t quite sure. He pulled back in his chair slightly, unsure what to do or say.

‘We’ll talk about this another time,’ Molly said, in the voice she employed when she would not tolerate argument or discussion. Juliet sat down opposite them. Davey got up, the kettle went on again and two slices of bread went into the toaster. After a moment or two of silence, Molly asked her granddaughter if she had any questions for her.

‘No,’ Juliet said.

‘Are you sure, love?’ Molly asked.

Juliet stood up before the kettle was boiled or the toast had popped and made for the door.

‘What about your breakfast?’ Davey said.

‘I’m not hungry.’ She left the room.

Davey’s mother turned to him. ‘What have you just done?’

Molly left soon after. Davey showered and changed in the main bathroom; Juliet used her mother’s en-suite. They met downstairs, fresh and ready to see Rabbit.

‘Davey?’ Juliet said, on the way to the car.

‘Yes?’

‘Can I go in alone?’

‘Of course.’

They sat in the car.

‘Davey?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Do you really want me?’ Juliet asked. Her voice cracked slightly, betraying her fear.

‘Juliet, everybody wants you.’

‘What does me ma want?’

Davey could have said something trite, like ‘She wants you to be happy,’ but instead he admitted the truth: ‘I don’t know.’

He pulled out of the driveway and Juliet turned on the radio. There was an old Dolly Parton song playing. She turned it up a little and pulled her seat back.

‘You like country music?’ Davey asked.

‘Not really.’ She closed her eyes.

She was asleep when they reached the hospice. Davey parked the car and sat there for at least five minutes before he attempted to wake her. He watched people come and go and mused on the events of the past five days. He looked down at his sleeping niece and felt a terrible unease.
What the hell have I done?

Juliet woke up and focused on her uncle staring out of the car window, lost in his thoughts.

‘What do I say to her, Davey?’ Juliet asked, when their eyes met.

‘Whatever you want.’

‘I want to run.’

‘Me too.’

They got out of the car and walked up to the hospice doors, hand in hand. Once inside she let go and he watched her walk to her mother’s room alone.

‘I’ll be here when you come out,’ he said, before she opened the door. It wasn’t until it closed behind her that he spotted Mabel sitting on the chairs. She had a book in her hand and a wide grin on her face.

‘Mabel?’

‘In the flesh.’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Now, you know if Casey can’t be here she’ll send second best.’

She stood up and they embraced. He melted into her warmth. ‘You could never be second best and you have no idea how good it is to see you,’ he said.

‘I’m so sorry, honey,’ she said.

‘Where are you staying? Where are the kids?’

‘On the road with a minder and their other mother.’

‘How’s the tour going?’

‘Forget the tour.’

‘How long are you here for?’

‘As long as it takes.’

Davey hugged her again.

‘What’s that for?’ she said.

‘This is the first time since I’ve been back that I’ve really felt at home.’

They returned to the chairs, where Davey explained the events of the last five days and how Juliet and her mother were only just coming to terms with her death.

‘It’s so sad,’ Mabel said.

‘Casey’s worried I’m not coming back, isn’t she?’

‘Every time you get on a plane to Ireland she worries about that.’

‘This time she might be right.’

She nudged him with her shoulder. ‘Let’s just take one day at a time.’

The first time Davey had met Mabel her tongue had been down his best friend’s throat. They were backstage at a festival in Washington. Casey had just come off and Mabel had been waiting in the wings, a tall, broad, bald, striking African-American, who lived in leather pants and skull T-shirts and passed for a rock star everywhere she went.

Mabel had caught Davey staring at them kissing. ‘Why is he staring at us?’ she’d asked, when they had pulled out of their embrace and he continued to stare.

‘He’s judging you,’ Casey said.

‘And?’

‘Nice form,’ Davey said, and Casey laughed.

‘I like him,’ Mabel said.

‘He’s a keeper,’ Casey agreed.

‘So are you.’ Mabel leaned in for another kiss and that was it: Casey was hooked. Mabel was acting tour manager for a band sharing the bill. Within a week she had left the other tour and was living on their bus. Within a month she had replaced their old tour manager, a stoner named Job, without him ever realizing it. He stayed until the end of the tour but after that Mabel was Casey’s official tour manager for two years until she became her wife. Mabel was a fair-minded, hard-working ball-buster. She had a devilish sense of humour, she liked a drink, and from the start Davey had a friend in her. Since they’d had the kids, Mabel had spent less time on the road but she still managed to organize every aspect of the tour, Casey’s life and sometimes even Davey’s from home.

Davey waited outside his sister’s door. Mabel went into the canteen and returned with teas and wraps. ‘I got them to take out the cucumber.’