They stood together looking out into a clear night sky.

‘Nothing’s ever going to be the same again,’ Davey said.

‘Nothing is ever the same, Davey. Change is our only constant.’

‘Did you read that in the doctor’s surgery?’

‘A posh cracker.’

‘So I’m a parent now.’

‘Welcome to hell,’ Francie said.

‘I’m doing this.’

‘Yes, you are.’

‘It’ll be fine.’

‘Nope, it will break your fucking heart.’

‘Jesus, Francie, I’m trying to stay positive.’

Francie exhaled and grey smoke curled through the fresh air.

‘It will be worth it, Davey.’

Davey left after two pints. When he arrived back at Rabbit’s Lenny was long gone and Juliet was asleep. He opened up his computer and booked two first-class tickets back to the States a week from the day. If change is going to come, let it come.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Grace

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Grace

GRACE WAS LOST IN her own thoughts as Lenny drove with the radio on. It was raining. The tarmac ahead shone under the street and car lights. The road appeared greasy, as though spotted with a purple vinyl film. Lenny cut through a large puddle, water parted and a wave curled and splashed. They were alone. Stephen was driving the boys home in a car he’d borrowed from a mate. They had lost sight of them in traffic a while back.

‘What if he’s not insured?’ Grace said out of nowhere.

‘Who?’ Lenny asked.

‘Stephen.’

‘Ah, it’s only a mile down the road.’

‘We could lose the four of them in a fireball.’

‘Ah Jaysus, Grace, that’s not going to happen.’

‘And I suppose insurance would be the least of our worries,’ she said.

Lenny attempted to lighten the mood. ‘Let’s just hope they’re stopped by the police and Stephen is charged, then.’

‘Better than dying in flames,’ she said.

They fell into silence once more. Grace focused on the rain dribbling down the windscreen and the busy and slightly scratchy swish-swash sound of the wipers. Ten minutes passed before Lenny turned off the radio.

‘We need to talk about this morning.’

‘I’m too tired.’

‘Please, Grace.’

‘What do you want me to say?’

‘I want to know what’s going through your mind.’

‘I told you, at the moment I’m worried about the kids.’

‘Grace!’

‘Stephen is a shit driver, Lenny, we both know it.’

‘Grace?’

‘What?’

‘Talk to me.’

‘There’s an operation I can have to remove my breasts and my ovaries.’

He paled; even in the dark she could see his colour fade.

‘But you don’t have cancer.’

‘Not yet.’

‘Maybe never.’

‘But maybe tomorrow.’

‘You can’t do that.’

‘I didn’t say I would, but anyway, they’re my breasts.’

‘Oh but when it comes to snipping my balls we all get a vote—’

‘I have the fucking gene, Lenny.’