‘Do you know how serious these operations are? How many complications can occur? How open to infection she is? How dangerous anaesthetic is? What it can do to her overall health? Even without complications it’s a life-changing surgery. She’ll become more fragile, she’ll be sick and sore and mentally fucked, and that’s just the mastectomy.’ He was spewing his words, fighting for sense to prevail, fighting for his wife’s life. The one she lived now. Not some shadowy figure carved to pieces just in case. Just in case wasn’t good enough. Molly started washing the dishes as he ranted on and on. ‘What about when they take her ovaries and her tubes, what about menopause? What will that do to her? Molly, please, I’m begging you.’

Molly stopped washing up. She dried her hands on her dress and placed them on his shoulders. ‘Menopause is in Grace’s near future anyway, love. As for the rest, you’re right about everything – our Grace couldn’t even get her fucking ears pierced without falling off the table and giving herself a concussion, and surgery is life-changing but cancer is life-ending. So you have to ask yourself one question. Are you really willing to take that risk?’

He slumped into a chair with his head in his hands and now he was sobbing like a baby.

‘I’m sorry,’ he cried.

‘Don’t be sorry, be supportive,’ she said, and Grace was still at the table in tears. ‘And for the love of Christ will yis all stop crying? I’ve a pain in my arse from crying.’

Canvassing for surgery was one thing; actually thinking about it and talking about it was quite another. Every time her mind went there her stomach lurched, her hands trembled and her legs felt as weak as a baby deer’s. She had to be strong. It has to be done. Now Lenny was finally on board she couldn’t give herself away. She didn’t want to talk about it. What is there to say, Rabbit?

Nothing, Gracie, nothing at all.

To add to the pressure building, Lenny watched everything she drank and ate. If she even attempted to open a bottle of wine on a Friday she’d be met with her husband’s wagging finger.

‘Alcohol intake increases your risk of cancer.’

‘Worth it.’

‘Oh, so you’re willing to give up your breasts, but not a glass of Merlot?’

‘Fuck you, Lenny,’ she’d say, and she’d down the entire bottle.

He was on at her about her diet and exercise. ‘You need to stay fit if you want to recover properly.’ Then he discovered antioxidants. If Grace was going in for surgery he was going to ensure that she’d train like an athlete for it. Grace joined Jeffrey in food and exercise jail, and it was no fun.