Two weeks later Ryan walked up to his mammy holding on to a large brown padded envelope as she was taking the washing off the line.

‘I know you’re scared of needles and everything, so I got you something.’ He handed her the envelope.

‘What’s this?’ she said as she opened it and two cloth bags fell out. They had a picture of a rabbit on them and the names of Lenny and her four boys stitched into them.

‘They’re drain dollies,’ he said. ‘When you have the operation you’ll have drains.’ She felt her legs go; he caught her and steadied her. ‘You won’t have to look at them, Ma. They’ll be hidden in these.’

He showed her. ‘See, I got them to put a rabbit and our names on them to remind you why you’re doing it.’

She burst into tears. ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.’

He smiled. ‘Cool,’ he said. He began to walk away but before he did he turned to his ma. ‘And don’t worry about me – if any of us get the gene it will be Bernard or Jeff, it’s got to be one or both of those two saps.’ He winked and she burst out laughing.

‘Thank you, son,’ she said, and, five months after Rabbit’s death, Grace finally exhaled.

The appointment letter came through the door on a Tuesday in late March. The date for surgery was 5 May. Nine days after the first anniversary of Rabbit’s death. It was a lot to take in. It had been a year of heartache – a blur of medicine, pain, anguish, talking, listening and terror. Grace’s war on her cancer gene was about to begin.

Chapter Thirty-Three: Davey

Chapter Thirty-Three

Davey