The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes

by Anna McPartlin

  Johnny was incandescent with rage. He didn’t speak for the rest of the trip home. He would allow only Davey to escort him into his house. It was the one real fight Rabbit and Johnny had ever had and they didn’t speak for two whole weeks. Finally Rabbit broke. She threw stones at his bedroom window and threatened to climb the tree in the twins’ garden and burst through it if she had to. At sixteen, she was still too young to understand that Johnny’s outburst in the car had had little to do with her lack of respect and everything to do with his disappointment at entering and leaving that church as a cripple. She apologized profusely for being a total dick and promised faithfully never to enter another church with him. He was lying on his bed; his guitar was beside him. His eyes were closed. He didn’t speak and she worried that her apologies and promises weren’t enough.

  ‘And I will never, ever call Mother Teresa anything other than Mother Teresa. It’s great that she cares for the sick, and she can say whatever she likes about anything. We’re all entitled to our opinion.’

  ‘That’s big of you.’ His eyes were still closed, but the smile on his face encouraged her to go on.

  ‘And I should never have threatened to kick that nice one-legged lady.’

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘Even though she deliberately jammed her crutch on my foot.’

  He opened his eyes. ‘I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have asked you to come. It was unfair.’

  ‘More painful than unfair.’ She sat down in the armchair his mother had placed by his bed.

  ‘I’ve written loads of new songs.’

  ‘Let me hear them.’

  He sat up slowly and she placed his pillows behind his back just the way he liked them. He picked up the guitar. He sang and played her the songs.

  She closed her eyes and listened. When he was done, she stood up and kissed him on the lips. ‘Let’s never fight again.’

  ‘OK.’ He seemed a little shocked at her boldness.

  ‘Got to go,’ she said, standing at the end of his bed and putting on her jacket.

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘I’m going to break up with my boyfriend.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I’m in love with you.’

  ‘Rabbit, I’m too old and too sick for you.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘We’re just friends,’ he shouted to her, as she went down the stairs.

  ‘I can wait,’ she yelled back.

  Juliet

  When Ryan and Juliet were smaller they had played together all the time. They were the closest cousins in age, so it made sense that they always gravitated towards one another. If the photos their mothers pulled out at least once a year were indicative of how they truly felt, they were completely obsessed with each other. In every single photo, and there were too many to count, the cousins were either holding hands, hugging or kissing. They were less than five at the time but still it caused huge embarrassment every time their parents took a trip down Memory Lane.

  In recent years they hadn’t hung out as much. They went to different schools; they were interested in different things. Ryan was always so sure of himself and what he wanted out of life and, aside from wanting to cure cancer, Juliet had no idea who she was or what she wanted. Ryan was popular with girls and always the centre of attention. Juliet preferred life on the sidelines. She’d been asked out a few times but the thought of a boy shoving his tongue down her throat was too much to take. Besides, she was busy with her mother. She had far too many things to think about and do to waste any time running after some boy. Ryan had had girlfriends since the age of nine. He was experienced. Juliet’s only experience had occurred when she was ten and Timmy Sullivan had licked her face for a bet. It was wet and disgusting and left traces of cheese and onion crisps on her cheek. He was gone before she could kick him, and she was so shocked she started to cry. She had not touched cheese and onion crisps in the two years that had passed since the incident.

  Before Ryan had turned nine and discovered girls they had spent most of their time in her wooden playhouse at the end of her garden. It was their getaway, a place where they could hide out from the rest of the world. They’d have picnics, talk about cartoons and play Ludo, Connect 4 and Ryan’s favourite, Buckaroo. Juliet hadn’t ventured into her playhouse since Ryan had virtually disappeared from her life. Kyle hated enclosed spaces and Della thought it smelt like old socks. She hadn’t really noticed it before today, but Della was right: it did smell of old socks.

  It was dark, too. She found a torch on the shelf beside the games, switched it on and looked out of the window towards her house, which was also in darkness. Earlier she had thought about going inside but had known that if she did they would find her, and she’d been right: twice that evening Grace and Lenny had been through the house from top to bottom, screaming her name, and Davey had waited for her for a few hours. She had watched him pace around the kitchen. He had left an hour ago but he would come back.

  She wasn’t sure what she was doing. She just wanted to be left alone. Her heart was aching so badly she wanted to reach inside her chest and rip it out. She hadn’t eaten and the tips of her fingers were white and numb. She was tired. She checked her watch. It was ten p.m. She opened the press and pulled out the old blanket she and Ryan used to picnic on. She wrapped herself up in it and fell asleep.

  She woke with a start to the light of her own torch being shoved into her face. She shielded her eyes. ‘Who’s there?’ she asked, in a squeaky, terrified voice.

  ‘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.

  DAY SIX

  Chapter Eleven

  Davey

  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 moth
er’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.