‘Oh no, Rabbit!’ It was strange because she couldn’t quite believe or accept it, even though Rabbit had been riddled with cancer and was dying for days. It seemed impossible. There was stone where there had been a person – more than a person, her sister and friend. ‘Oh no,’ she cried and struggled to swallow wave after wave of newly formed snot. Rabbit’s best friend in the world, Marjorie, sat up leaning against the wall, her back straight and hot tears pouring from her wide eyes. Jack came round slowly. He heard of his daughter’s death before he saw it. He stood up, straightened his clothes and walked over to his wife. He placed his hand on her shoulder. She was so still and quiet, possibly the most still and quiet she had been in his fifty years of knowing and loving her. He then moved in and took Rabbit in his arms.

‘Jesus, Da, don’t move her,’ Grace squealed.

He held her tight and kissed her ear. ‘There’s no pain now,’ he said, tears flowing freely. ‘At least not for you, my baby girl.’

He reached out for Molly’s hand; she grabbed it.

‘I can’t lose you too, Molly,’ he said, holding onto Rabbit. ‘Don’t you leave me now,’ he warned, and Molly nodded.

‘On condition you stop rubbing snot on her fuckin’ corpse, Jack,’ Molly said, and he pulled back.

‘You’re right of course, love.’ He let Rabbit go. Molly smoothed down Rabbit’s crumpled, rumpled clothes.

‘You won’t leave me too, Molly?’ he insisted. It was preying on his mind, as his wife had been hospitalised following heart trouble that occurred while visiting Rabbit in the hospice two days previously. The only reason she wasn’t in a hospital bed herself was because she needed to be by her daughter’s side.

‘How could I? You’d be lost without me,’ she said, and she gave him a smile and a wink to let him know that despite a dead child and a dodgy ticker, she wasn’t going anywhere. But looking back, mentally and emotionally, she was already gone.

Part One: D-Day

Chapter One: Davey

Chapter One

Davey

A TRAUMATISED DAVEY LEFT THE hospice an hour after his sister died and got in the car and drove to her home. Davey had abandoned singer-songwriter Casey’s American tour nine days earlier when the call came that Rabbit was being transferred to a hospice. He knew instantly it was the end, unlike his insane parents, who tried to find a cure and/or miracle up until the last second. Casey supported him abandoning the tour. Davey was more than her drummer: they’d been close friends for too many years to count. She assured him she would be fine and that his drum tech knew the set inside out.

‘Don’t get too used to him,’ he’d said.