Grace

IN THE WEEK LEADING up to her death, Rabbit had stated she wanted a basket coffin as opposed to wood.

‘Why?’ Molly had questioned her daughter in the hospice.

‘Because it’s sustainable.’

‘The basket is?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And the wood isn’t?’

Rabbit thought about that. Oh yeah. If she hadn’t been dying she would have come up with an argument, but her brain was foggy on account of it being ravaged by cancer. ‘Well, it’s cheaper.’

‘So you want me and your daddy to scrimp on your coffin? Is that what you want?’

‘The baskets are perfectly suitable.’

‘They are,’ Molly said, and Rabbit grinned. ‘Perfectly suitable to carry eggs and fucking ham.’ Rabbit’s grin faded.

Rabbit turned to Grace for assistance.

‘Please, Grace, it’s what I want.’

Grace promised she’d make Molly purchase the basket. Even as she made the promise she worried about failing her baby sister.

‘Don’t let me down,’ Rabbit said.

‘Scout’s honour,’ Grace replied, making the Vulcan salute.

It was still morning when Grace and Molly arrived at the mortuary. Grace made a conscious decision to park her own troubles and focus on Rabbit’s wake and funeral. The gene would be there when she was ready to deal with it. She buried her anxieties deep. Think about Rabbit. Only Rabbit. So you have the gene, you don’t have cancer, you are not dying, get on with it.

It’s OK, Grace.

Shut up, Rabbit.

‘Let me handle this, love,’ Molly said as they walked through the door.

‘No chance,’ Grace said, and Molly gave her a look and a smile that suggested ‘Game on.’ Oh God.

Vincent and Silent Ed were waiting. Vincent was disappointed to see they had not arrived with clothes.

‘We’re still negotiating,’ Molly said.

‘We’re bringing Rabbit home at five,’ Vincent reminded her.

‘So we’ve got time on our hands.’

‘Not a lot.’

But Molly was already making her way towards a solid mahogany box with brass details. ‘That’s the one,’ she said, pointing to it.

‘No way, Ma, she wanted the basket.’

Molly ran her hand along its edge. ‘Mind your own business, Grace.’

‘You have good taste – she’s top of the range,’ Vincent said. Silent Ed remained silent.

‘That’s not what Rabbit asked for, Ma,’ Grace said, dragging her mother towards the basket option.

‘Is Rabbit here?’ Molly asked, pretending to look around the room. ‘Let’s ask her again, will we? Rabbit? Rabbit? Are you sure about that basket, love? It has a green hue off it and not a nice green either, one of those greens that you cough up when you’re fighting an infection,’ she shouted to the ceiling.

Vincent pretended to pick lint off his suit. Silent Ed rubbed his nondescript moustache.