‘That’s really good,’ she said. ‘If engineering doesn’t work out you could be a chef in a greasy spoon or buy a hotdog stand.’
‘Ha-ha. It
will
work out if I have to beg, borrow or steal.’
‘Or study,’ she said.
‘Or study.’
‘OK.’ She hadn’t thought about her mother in more than sixty seconds. She had smiled, enjoyed a sandwich and even giggled once. For the first time in days, Juliet Hayes was living in the moment.
‘You know you’re my favourite cousin.’
‘I’m your only cousin,’ she reminded him.
‘On that note, do you think Uncle Davey’s a homo?’
‘Definitely not.’
‘Why so sure?’ he asked.
‘Because I caught him in bed with me ma’s best friend, Marjorie, when I was ten.’
‘No!’
‘They said they were playing leapfrog.’
Stephen nearly choked on his sandwich with laughter and Juliet joined in.
Oh, Ma, I’m so sorry. I hope you’re OK. I miss you. I love you. Come home to me.
DAY TWO
Chapter Three
Molly
MOLLY WOKE IN the chair. She was stiff and cold and still unsure if it was night or day when she heard Davey banging around in the kitchen. She got up, stretched and stamped her foot – the leg was dead – waited for the pins, needles and numbness to pass, then went towards the noise. Davey was boiling the kettle when she entered the kitchen. ‘What time is it?’ she asked.
‘Around nine.’
‘You should have woken me. I should be with Rabbit.’
‘You should be in bed,’ Davey said. ‘Sit down, Ma, and I’ll make you some breakfast.’ She did as she was told. She was exhausted, drained and shaken to her core.
‘Where’s your da?’ she asked.
‘He’s been in his room practically since I arrived.’
‘He’s not able for all of this,’ she mumbled.
‘None of us are.’
‘He just needs some time to get his head together. We all come at things differently.’
Davey handed her a mug of tea, then some toast and a knife. ‘Butter it, eat it.’
She looked up and smiled at him. ‘I will. Thank you, son.’
He sat opposite her at the table. ‘How are you coping, Ma?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure. I keep thinking about what we could have missed. Maybe there is a miracle out there for us yet.’
‘We’ve chased enough miracles, Ma,’ Davey said sadly. ‘It only leads to disappointment and suffering.’
‘Rabbit’s still here,’ Molly whispered. ‘There’s still hope if she’s here.’ She wiped a stray tear that had escaped from the stockpile inside her, then bit into her toast. Each mouthful seemed to take every ounce of her strength to chew and swallow, but she continued to eat as though it was a challenge she refused to fail.
‘We all need our strength now,’ she said, getting up and lifting her plate.
Davey took it from her. ‘Go and get washed, Ma. I’ll take care of everything else.’
‘You’re a good man. You always were so kind, a fucking eejit but kind. I’m so proud of you, Davey.’ She left the room and walked up the stairs, holding the banister for support. Her legs felt tired and twisted.
The light was streaming into her bedroom from the window that looked out onto the green. Jack was lying still, with his back to her. She could tell he was awake because he wasn’t snoring and was far too stiff to be relaxed. He didn’t speak and she didn’t have anything to say. Instead she moved towards the light and focused on the green, watching a boy and girl play chase with an Irish Wolfhound that was bigger than both of them.
She had watched her kids and her grandchildren play on the green from that window so many times over the years, but the boy, girl and dog reminded her particularly of one summer’s evening when Davey and his little sister Rabbit were lying on one of her old blankets, wearing sunglasses and staring into the sun.
‘It makes you feel spacey, Ma,’ Rabbit had said, when Molly had gone across the road to see what her children were doing.
‘I can see black spots,’ Davey
‘Ha-ha. It
will
work out if I have to beg, borrow or steal.’
‘Or study,’ she said.
‘Or study.’
‘OK.’ She hadn’t thought about her mother in more than sixty seconds. She had smiled, enjoyed a sandwich and even giggled once. For the first time in days, Juliet Hayes was living in the moment.
‘You know you’re my favourite cousin.’
‘I’m your only cousin,’ she reminded him.
‘On that note, do you think Uncle Davey’s a homo?’
‘Definitely not.’
‘Why so sure?’ he asked.
‘Because I caught him in bed with me ma’s best friend, Marjorie, when I was ten.’
‘No!’
‘They said they were playing leapfrog.’
Stephen nearly choked on his sandwich with laughter and Juliet joined in.
Oh, Ma, I’m so sorry. I hope you’re OK. I miss you. I love you. Come home to me.
DAY TWO
Chapter Three
Molly
MOLLY WOKE IN the chair. She was stiff and cold and still unsure if it was night or day when she heard Davey banging around in the kitchen. She got up, stretched and stamped her foot – the leg was dead – waited for the pins, needles and numbness to pass, then went towards the noise. Davey was boiling the kettle when she entered the kitchen. ‘What time is it?’ she asked.
‘Around nine.’
‘You should have woken me. I should be with Rabbit.’
‘You should be in bed,’ Davey said. ‘Sit down, Ma, and I’ll make you some breakfast.’ She did as she was told. She was exhausted, drained and shaken to her core.
‘Where’s your da?’ she asked.
‘He’s been in his room practically since I arrived.’
‘He’s not able for all of this,’ she mumbled.
‘None of us are.’
‘He just needs some time to get his head together. We all come at things differently.’
Davey handed her a mug of tea, then some toast and a knife. ‘Butter it, eat it.’
She looked up and smiled at him. ‘I will. Thank you, son.’
He sat opposite her at the table. ‘How are you coping, Ma?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure. I keep thinking about what we could have missed. Maybe there is a miracle out there for us yet.’
‘We’ve chased enough miracles, Ma,’ Davey said sadly. ‘It only leads to disappointment and suffering.’
‘Rabbit’s still here,’ Molly whispered. ‘There’s still hope if she’s here.’ She wiped a stray tear that had escaped from the stockpile inside her, then bit into her toast. Each mouthful seemed to take every ounce of her strength to chew and swallow, but she continued to eat as though it was a challenge she refused to fail.
‘We all need our strength now,’ she said, getting up and lifting her plate.
Davey took it from her. ‘Go and get washed, Ma. I’ll take care of everything else.’
‘You’re a good man. You always were so kind, a fucking eejit but kind. I’m so proud of you, Davey.’ She left the room and walked up the stairs, holding the banister for support. Her legs felt tired and twisted.
The light was streaming into her bedroom from the window that looked out onto the green. Jack was lying still, with his back to her. She could tell he was awake because he wasn’t snoring and was far too stiff to be relaxed. He didn’t speak and she didn’t have anything to say. Instead she moved towards the light and focused on the green, watching a boy and girl play chase with an Irish Wolfhound that was bigger than both of them.
She had watched her kids and her grandchildren play on the green from that window so many times over the years, but the boy, girl and dog reminded her particularly of one summer’s evening when Davey and his little sister Rabbit were lying on one of her old blankets, wearing sunglasses and staring into the sun.
‘It makes you feel spacey, Ma,’ Rabbit had said, when Molly had gone across the road to see what her children were doing.
‘I can see black spots,’ Davey
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