‘Come inside. I’ve got a fry on,’ Pauline said, taking her old friend’s arm and dragging her in. After thirty years, Molly knew that Pauline wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Once inside Molly realized how cold she was. She started to shiver so violently that Pauline covered her with a blanket and insisted on bathing her feet in hot water.
Molly sat quietly, cradling her mug in her hands, while Pauline got on with the business of making a fry-up. She turned the radio on to an early-morning light-hearted breakfast show. Daylight streamed through the kitchen window and Pauline’s dog, Minnie, ran around in circles, then jumped up and down at the back door. Pauline opened it and the dog bounced outside, barking at the birds and the world. When she placed the cooked breakfast in front of Molly it came with a warning: ‘I want to see at least half the plate cleared.’
Molly sighed deeply, but she didn’t argue. She was hungry even if she felt suddenly so tired that raising the fork to her mouth would be a mammoth task.
‘I’m glad you managed time to get your hair done,’ Pauline said.
Molly put her hand to it and patted it down. ‘They did it in the hospice.’
‘That was good of them.’
‘It’s a nice place.’
‘So I’ve heard. Now eat your sausage.’
Molly ate her sausage.
‘I think we’ll go away in September. I’m thinking about France because it’s so handy to get to and the weather will still be warm but not too hot. You know I hate the heat,’ Pauline said.
‘I can’t,’ Molly said.
‘Of course you can.’
‘I’ll have Juliet to consider,’ Molly said.
‘So you’re taking Juliet?’ Pauline asked, sounding surprised.
‘Of course I am. Who else will?’ Molly said.
‘Jesus, Molly, it’s a lot to take on at your age.’
‘Davey’s holding a meeting about it later today. I don’t know why he’s bothering, but I suppose it’s his way of doing something.’
‘How long?’ Pauline asked, in a voice just a little above a whisper.
‘Not long,’ Molly said, without a trace of a tear.
‘What can I do?’ Pauline asked.
Molly looked from her half-eaten breakfast to her feet soaking in warm water. ‘You’ve just done it, old pal.’
Pauline stood up and cleared away the plates. As she was passing her friend, she paused to kiss her lightly, then went to the sink. ‘We’re going to France, old woman,’ she mumbled to herself, loud enough for Molly to hear her.
The first time Molly laid eyes on Pauline she was standing on the Hayes doorstep with a bloody face, and a small crying terrified boy under each arm. It was a winter’s night in 1980 and Molly and her family had just moved into the area. Pauline was hysterical. ‘Please, please, let us in! He’s going to kill us all!’
It was then Molly realized that the man who was threatening Pauline was coming across the green, waving something that looked like an old man’s walking cane. Jack wasn’t home and the man was huge, strong, aggressive and possibly insane. She didn’t think twice. She ushered Pauline inside and shut the door before he reached the gate. She bolted it top and bottom and stood right back when his balled fists banged against the wood with such force she was afraid the whole front of the house would fall in on them. The kids started to scream, and Pauline tried to shush them, but she was so frightened and so injured that they only roared louder.
Between the screaming and the banging it wasn’t long before Grace and Davey were marching down the stairs in their pyjamas, rubbing their eyes and wondering what was going on. When they saw the bloodied woman and the screaming kids in their hallway, Grace sat on the stairs and cried, and Davey ran to his mother. The man was shouting blue murder.
‘What’s his name?’ Molly asked Pauline.
‘Gary.’
Molly sat her son beside his sister on the stairs, then walked to the door and banged on it as aggressively as he was doing. ‘We can both beat the door, Gary,’ she said.
That stopped Gary in his tracks. Aside from the crying children, it was quiet enough for everyone to work out their next move.
Gary spoke first. ‘I want my wife and kids.’
‘Well, you can’t have them.’
‘You open this door or you’ll be sorry.’
‘The guards are on their way, Gary,’ she lied.
‘I am the guards.’ He sounded smug and proud of himself.
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘so that’s why you think you can get away with beating a woman and terrifying little children. You’re the big I am.’
‘You don’t speak to me like that!’
‘Or what?’
‘Or I’ll come in through your fucking front window.’
She could hear him walking away from the door and towards her sitting-room window. Without thinking, she unbolted and opened her front door and slammed it behind her. He turned in time to see her pick up the stick he had dropped, which he had used to bang on the door. He walked towards her slowly – he was probably as shocked as she was that she had locked herself outside with him, but those windows would have cost a fortune to replace, never mind the impact a lunatic coming through the front room would have on her kids. She could hear them screaming inside.
‘What are you planning to do with that?’ he asked her, looking at the stick.
She daydreamed about shoving it through his mouth. ‘I’m going to lean on it while I tell you to fuck off.’
‘Really?’ He seemed almost amused. He wasn’t shouting now: he was intrigued.
She leaned on the stick. ‘Go home, Gary.’
‘And what if I don’t?’
‘When your friends roll up, I’ll tell them what you’ve done to your wife, and even if they cover for you at least some of them will judge you as you should be judged. When you’re all gone I’ll put in a call to my uncle, the Garda commissioner, and I’ll make sure he knows just what kind of a man you are.’ She was lying but he didn’t know that. He left without a word or his big stick.
Pauline and the kids stayed over that night. It was the first of three similar incidents before Pauline finally had the strength to boot him out. When she did, their local priest at the time, Father Lennon, called to the house to talk her into allowing her husband home. Maybe he would have been successful in his guilt trip if Molly had not come to the door as he was pointing out how Pauline had ‘made her bed’. Molly had no time for Father Lennon. He had proved himself unworthy of her respect when she had witnessed him taking money from a sober, contrite Gary’s pub stash to pray for his tortured soul after he had beaten Pauline so badly she was in hospital for two weeks. The money Father Lennon took was the equivalent of a week’s wages, and at the time it was clear that the man didn’t provide for his own family. Pauline and her boys were half starved, and if it wasn’t for her ability to sew, they would have been in rags. The priest had shoved it into his pocket and told Gary he’d pray that they’d be reunited in harmony or some such rubbish. Jack had had to hold Molly back in the corridor at the hospital where Pauline lay battered and broken.
‘You’re a disgrace, do you hear me, Lennon?’ she shouted.
On the day Molly entered Pauline’s kitchen while Father Lennon was advocating for Gary, he paled at the sight of her.
‘What shite are you spreading?’ she asked him.
‘There’s no need for that.’
‘What’s he saying?’ she asked Pauline.
‘That my vows mean something and my soul is at risk,’ Pauline said.
‘And do you believe him?’
‘Honestly, I don’t care if it is. Since Gary left, my kids are happier, more content, I’m not scared, and I’ve even got myself a part-time job.’
‘Time for you to go,’ Molly said to the priest.
‘Just a second.’ He raised a finger to Molly.
He really shouldn’t have done that. He was a very small, slight man. She looked down on him.
‘You either get the fuck out of this house on your own two feet or you’ll be lifted out, but either way it’s going to happen.’
Pauline giggled, not just because Father Lennon’s face was a picture but because it was something she did when she was nervous.
‘Never darken the inside of my church again, either of you,’ he said as he was leaving.
‘Our pleasure,’ Molly replied, and slammed the door.
After that Molly, Jack and the kids went to the airport church, with Pauline and her kids; they’d all enjoy lunch at the airport afterwards. It was there that Molly first encountered Father Frank. They had their share of disagreements, but he was a good, decent man and when he met someone who needed a little guidance and help, he knew he could always rely on Molly. They had a lot of respect for one another and a friendship of sorts. She’d been thinking about him over recent days. As she walked from Pauline’s house to her own, she made a mental note to phone him as soon as Davey’s meeting was over.
When Father Frank rang her doorbell, it was as if he had read her mind and, even though she hadn’t been to mass in months and the last time they’d spoken they had argued, it was good to see him. Jack and Juliet were in the hospice with Rabbit. He knew about Rabbit: her illness was the reason for his visit. He was hospice chaplain and, although she wasn’t listed for spiritual guidance, he’d seen her name and there was only one Rabbit Hayes.
‘What can I do for you, Molly?’
Molly appreciated him cutting to the chase. ‘You can bless her.’
‘You know she doesn’t want me to.’
‘But I want you to, and please don’t say no to me because I can’t take another no.’
He considered it for a moment. ‘I can wait till she’s asleep.’
Molly winked at him. ‘Great minds think alike.’
‘It’s not ideal, Molly.’
‘But it’s better than nothing and, right now, it’s the only thing keeping me going.’
‘I’ll do my part.’
‘And that’s all I can ask.’
‘Do the others know what you’ve got planned?’
‘They don’t and it’s none of their business.’
‘Be careful, Molly. The last thing you need is in-fighting.’
‘I’ll handle it. Now, you’ll stay for dinner.’
It wasn’t a request and Father Frank knew better than to argue.
Grace
Stephen joined his mother in the garden. Until that point she had been enjoying a coffee alone. It was cold, but with a jacket on she was perfectly comfortable. He sat down beside her. She said, ‘I’m sorry you have to take some time away from study to help distract Juliet.’
‘It’s no big deal. I’ll make up for it.’
‘Fingers crossed.’ She was still annoyed that he hadn’t applied himself all year.
‘What do you want us to say to her?’ he asked.
‘Just tell her you want to hang out.’
‘Because that won’t raise questions.’
‘Just tell her . . .’
‘The truth?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Jaysus, Ma, what are ya waiting on?’
‘Rabbit wants one more day.’
Bernard came out with a Manchester United scarf on and matching gloves. He sat down beside them. ‘What are we talking about?’
‘What we should say to Juliet when we take her out later.’
‘Nothing,’ Bernard said.
‘She’ll ask questions,’ Stephen said.
‘No, she won’t.’
‘She’s just going to get in the car and say nothing?’
‘She might ask where we’re going.’
‘Bollocks.’
‘Stephen, mind your language.’
‘Sorry, Ma, but she’s going to ask and I don’t want it to get out on my watch.’
‘She won’t ask because she already knows,’ Bernard told him.
‘No, she doesn’t,’ Stephen said. ‘She thinks she’s going home.’
‘She might not want to know, but she knows,’ Bernard replied.
‘Speaking of . . . Is she coming to live here?’ Stephen asked, as Lenny joined the table with a pot of coffee and some fresh cups.
‘Of course we’re taking her,’ Lenny said, shook the cushion and sat down.
‘I suppose I could share with Bernard until I find a room somewhere and Ryan and Fat Boy could go in together.’
‘Don’t call your brother “Fat Boy”,’ Grace snapped.
‘He’s not fat anyway. He’s obese,’ Bernard said.
‘Not funny, Bernard. Besides, those two rooms are too small to share.’
‘I was only saying.’
‘We could sell Ryan to the tinkers,’ Stephen suggested.
Bernard laughed. ‘Yeah, but they’d send him back after two weeks.’
‘Ha-ha,’ Ryan said, coming out of the kitchen. He pulled over a chair and joined them. ‘Talking about Juliet?’
‘Yeah,’ Lenny said.
‘I saw a caravan on sale online for a hundred and fifty euro – lovely little thing. Park it up outside and I’ll move into it,’ he offered.
‘Finally Ryan would be where he belongs, Juliet could have my room, I move in with Bernard and Fat Boy stays in the box room,’ Stephen said.
‘We’re not shoving your brother into a caravan.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Ryan insisted.
‘Of course you don’t. I can’t even imagine what you’d get up to in there,’ Lenny said.
Ryan grinned to himself. ‘Cool stuff.’
‘Here, Da, did the Unabomber live in a caravan?’ Bernard wondered.
‘I think it was a tent.’
‘Yous can all laugh, but I don’t see anyone else come up with a solution,’ Ryan said, and he was right.
It was going to be really tight, no matter what they did, but Grace was heartened by her boys embracing Juliet. She was proud. Then she remembered her baby. ‘Where’s Jeffrey?’
Ryan leaned back and looked in through the glass window at his brother, whose nose was stuck in the fridge. ‘Where do you think?’
‘Jeffrey, get your head out of the fucking fridge!’ Grace screamed. The three other lads laughed.
Jeffrey appeared, hurt and appalled. ‘I was only looking, Ma.’
She grabbed him for a hug before he had a chance to get out of her reach.
‘Ma, let me go.’
‘I love you, kids,’ she said, and suddenly she was crying.
Ryan got up. ‘I’m outta here.’
Stephen slunk off without a word, and Jeffrey struggled free, then went into the house. Bernard gave his ma a kiss and left his parents alone.
‘Well, I’ve got to hand it to ya, ya know how to clear a room,’ Lenny said.
‘And that’s why I wanted a girl.’
He poured her another coffee, then stood up. ‘Looks like you’re going to have one, after all.’ He walked inside, leaving Grace to contemplate her new reality.
When Rabbit was a baby, Grace used to put her in her red dolls’ pram and wheel her around the green. Rabbit was a fat, squirmy little thing, who didn’t appreciate the confines of a doll-sized pram, so much so that she burst through its under-carriage. Grace wasn’t sure how her baby sister had managed to wreck her pram, but she was sure it had been a deliberate act. Rabbit lay screaming on the grass, fists balled and legs kicking. Grace left her there because she couldn’t carry her broken pram and her baby sister at the same time. No one was going to rob a screaming baby, but even though the pram was broken, it was still beautiful. When she returned to collect her sister, with her irate mother in tow, Rabbit had calmed. She was gurgling happily, kicking towards the sky. Molly didn’t pick her up right away because she looked so content that it seemed a shame to disturb her. Instead she and Grace just watched her have a wordless and invigorating conversation with the blue sky above her.
‘My friend Alice’s sister has to go to a special school,’ Grace said
.
‘So?’ Molly asked.
‘Just saying.’ Grace eyed her sister.
When Rabbit was five, she fell down a drain. The Hayes family were on a day out and Rabbit found the only uncovered drain on a thirty-acre farm. She fell far enough that she couldn’t be reached but could still be seen. Grace was standing close to her when it happened. They were looking at cows in the field and Rabbit was intrigued. Grace was bored and hungry. She preferred the zoo: at least there was ice-cream there. She looked away from her little sister for one minute and, during that time, Rabbit had climbed over the fence into the field and disappeared.
‘Ma, Da!’ Grace roared. Her parents and the farmer came running. Grace was the first to reach Rabbit. She looked down the drain and saw her sister, who was stuck but remarkably calm.
‘Are you all right?’
‘I think I’ve broken my shoe.’
The farmer reassured Rabbit that she’d be OK. It was only then that it occurred to her that anything else was a possibility, so she burst into tears and repeated that she thought she’d broken her shoe.
‘Don’t mind your shoe, love.’
‘They’re my favourites.’ She sobbed. ‘And I’m stuck, Ma.’
‘We’ll get you out,’ Molly said. The farmer went to call the fire brigade; Jack paced up and down, mumbling to himself; Grace sat on the grass and made daisy chains, and Molly told stories to her daughters about a girl who fell down a well. Grace listened as she threaded flowers. Molly said that the girl who fell down the well was brave and didn’t cry one bit. She was patient because she knew it took time for the men to come and save her. She was funny because even though she was down a well she could tell a story that had everyone above her laughing.
‘What was the funny story, Ma?’ Rabbit asked.
‘You tell me, love,’ Molly said.
Rabbit thought for a minute or two. ‘There was a girl called Rabbit, she had a really bad habit, she forgot to look and fucked her foot and now she’s in trouble for cursing.’
Grace had never heard her baby sister say ‘fuck’ before, and as much as her ma liked to say that word, it was not a children’s word. She stopped threading daisies, expecting Ma to lose it, but she didn’t. Instead she burst out laughing. ‘You see, love, everything is going to be OK,’ Molly said, and Rabbit believed her.
The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes Page 17
