‘Rabbit and I used to nip out round the back of the hospital and take a couple of drags of a joint before hers – she used to float in, she called it her pre-op before her pre-op.’

‘You’re joking,’ he said.

‘Nope.’

‘Well, wasn’t she a dark horse?’

She grinned at the memory of Rabbit walking towards her operation humming the tune to Destiny’s Child’s ‘Survivor’.

‘You take courage where you find it.’

‘Wasn’t that dangerous?’ he said.

‘Probably, we never really looked it up.’

‘Jaysus.’

‘How are the kids?’

‘They’re fine. Jeff’s a little quiet in himself but the others seem to have managed to get their heads around it, probably better than I have.’

‘You and Grace should go on holiday as soon as she’s fit enough,’ Marjorie said.

‘That will take a while. I keep wondering what it’s going to be like.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘Being together . . . intimately. Is she going to be the same?’

‘I thought the counsellor talked to you both about this.’

‘I was mortified – couldn’t take it in, didn’t know what to say.’

‘You’re the same people,’ she said.

‘Did Rabbit feel the same, afterwards?’

‘Rabbit was sick.’

‘That’s what everyone keeps saying, but was she the same after the operation?’

‘No.’

Lenny’s hands balled into fists; his eyes shone with tears. He nodded slowly. ‘Thanks.’

‘For what?’

‘For being honest.’

‘Rabbit isn’t Grace, and she didn’t have you.’

‘No, but she always had you,’ he said, and Marjorie took a moment to collect herself.

‘Just take it slow. Be there. Mind her, and when she’s well enough she’ll mind you.’

‘It’s not just about sex,’ he said.

‘I know.’

‘But she’s my girl, you know.’

‘She’ll be your girl all over again – some men would love a new set of boobs.’

‘I loved the old ones.’

‘It will work out.’

‘I used to believe that,’ he said. ‘Then Rabbit died.’ He stood up and offered his hand. She shook it.

‘Thank you, Marjorie.’

‘Give her my love.’

‘I will. Enjoy the gig. Give Davey a kiss from me.’ He winked at her and was gone.

She sat in the hospital café finishing her coffee and fantasising about kissing Davey. Get a grip, Marjorie, you’re forty-fuckin’-one.

Chapter Forty-Nine: Grace

Chapter Forty-Nine

Grace

GRACE SHIELDED HER EYES from the bright lights overhead and felt the pull on her chest as she raised her arm. She also felt the pull of wires. Yuck. The pain was manageable, though; she had a button in her hand, and she pressed it. Hmmmm, better. She pressed it again . . . Nice . . . Good . . . OK . . . One for luck . . . A new nurse, a Filipino man in his thirties, introduced himself.

‘Melchor,’ he said.

‘I don’t know what that is,’ she said.

‘It’s my name, but you can call me Mel.’

‘Oh. Thanks.’

‘How’s your pain?’

‘Four.’