The Barrytown Trilogy (24 page)

—Didn’t yeh? said Sharon.

—Are yeh mad? I did not.

—I can tell from your face.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been told that. His mother had said it; Doris said it; everyone said it.

—I was only jokin’.

—I’m a great little ride.

The word ride made him snap his eyes shut.

—I didn’t mean anny harm. I only—

—Wha’ else did yeh say about me?

—Nothin’.

—Maybe!

—I swear. I didn’t. On the Bible. I didn’t say annythin’. Else.

She was nearly feeling sorry for him.

—Yeh stupid bastard yeh.

He looked as if he was being smacked.

She went on.

—You got your hole, didn’t yeh?

He shut his eyes again. He got redder.

—Wha’ more do yeh want?

—I swear on the Bible, Sharon, I didn’t mean anny harm, I swear. True as God now.

—Wha’ did yeh say?

—Ah, it was nothin’.

—I’ll go in an’ tell her.

He believed her.

—Ah, it was silly really. Just the lads talkin’, yeh know.

Sharon knew that one step towards the door would get her a better explanation, so she took one.

—We —they —we were havin’ a laugh, abou’ women, yeh know. The usual. An’ the young lads, the lads on the team, they were goin’ on abou’ the young ones from around here. ——An’ that’s when I said you were a —I said it.

He looked at the carpet.

—Yeh dope. Wha’ did yeh say tha’ for?

—Ah, I don’t know.

He looked up.

—I was showin’ off.

——Wha’ else?

—Nothin’, I swear. They laughed at me. Some o’ them didn’t even hear me. They’d never believe that I got me ——have —Off you.

He was looking at the carpet again.

—They thought tha’ I was jokin’.

He jumped when the door was opened by Missis Burgess.

—There y’are, love, he roared at her.

—Hello, Sharon, said Missis Burgess.

—Hiyeh, Missis Burgess, said Sharon. —I was just tellin’ Mister Burgess abou’ Darren.

—That’s righ’, Mister Burgess nearly screamed.

—Is somethin’ wrong with Darren?

—He has a bit of a cold just.

—A cold, said Mister Burgess.

—Maybe flu.

—We’ll just have to hope he’s better for Saturday, said Mister Burgess. —God knows, we’ll need him.

—I didn’t know there was flu goin’ around, said Missis
Burgess. —I hope there isn’t, ——now. Will you tell your mammy I was askin’ for her?

—I will, yeah, Missis Burgess.

—When are yeh due, Sharon? Missis Burgess asked.

—November. The end.

—Really? You look sooner. ——D’you want a boy or a little girl?

—I don’t mind. A girl maybe.

—One of each, wha’, said Mister Burgess.

Missis Burgess looked at Mister Burgess.

—I’m off to my bingo now, George.

—Good, said Mister Burgess. —That’s great. Have you enough money with yeh, Doris?

—My God, he’s offerin’ me money! He’s showin’ off in front of you, Sharon.

Sharon smiled.

—Bye bye so, Sharon, said Missis Burgess.

—See yeh, Missis Burgess.

—Don’t forget the grass, George.

—No, no. Don’t worry.

—Remember to tell your mammy now, Missis Burgess told Sharon.

Then she was gone.

Sharon knew what he was going to say next.

—Phew, he said. —Tha’ was close, wha’.

—It’ll be closer the next time if yeh don’t stop sayin’ things abou’ me.

—There won’t be a next time, Sharon, I swear to God. I only said it the once. I’m sorry. ——I’m sorry.

—So yeh should be. ——I don’t mind bein’ pregnant but I do mind people knowin’ who made me pregnant.

——So ——you’re pregnant, Sharon?

—Fuck off, Mister Burgess, would yeh.

They stood there. Sharon was looking at him but he wasn’t looking at her, not really. She wanted to smile. She’d never felt power like this before.

—Sorry, Sharon.

Sharon said nothing.

She was going to go now, but he spoke. His mouth was open for a while before words left it.

——An’, Sharon —

He rubbed his nose, on his arm.

—Yeah?

—I never thanked yeh for —yeh know. Tha’ nigh’.

He was looking at the carpet again, and fidgeting.

—I was drunk, said Sharon.

She wanted to cry now. She’d forgotten That Night for a minute. She was hating him again.

—I know. So was I. I’d never’ve ——God, I was buckled. ——Em —

He tried to grin, but he gave up and looked serious.

—You’re a good girl, Sharon. We both made a mistake.

—You’re tellin’ me, said Sharon.

—Hang on a sec, Sharon, he said. —I’ll be back in a minute.

He went to the door.

—Wait there, Sharon.

Sharon waited. She was curious. She wasn’t going to cry now. She heard Mister Burgess going up the stairs, and coming down.

He slid into the room.

—That’s for yourself, Sharon, he said.

He had a ten pound note in his hand.

Sharon couldn’t decide how to react. She looked at the money.

She wanted to laugh but she thought that that wouldn’t be right. But she couldn’t manage anger, looking at this eejit holding out his tenner to her.

—Do you think I’m a prostitute, Mister Burgess?

—God, no; Jaysis, no!

—What’re yeh givin’ me tha’ for then?

—It’s not the way yeh think, Sharon. Shite! ——Em, it’s a sort of a present —

The tenner, he knew now, was a big mistake.

—Yeh know. A present. No hard feelin’s, yeh know.

—You’re some fuckin’ neck, Mister Burgess, d’yeh know tha’?

—I’m sorry, Sharon. I didn’t mean it the way you’re thinkin’, I swear. On the Bible.

He was beginning to look hurt.

—We made a mistake, Sharon. We were both stupid. Now go an’ buy yourself a few sweets —eh, drinks.

Sharon couldn’t help grinning. She shook her head.

—You’re an awful fuckin’ eejit, Mister Burgess, she said. —Put your tenner back in your pocket.

—Ah no, Sharon.

He looked at her.

—Okay, sorry ——You’re a good girl. And honest.

—Fuck off!

—Sorry! ——Sorry. I’ll never open me mouth about you again.

—You’d better not.

—I won’t, I swear.

Then he remembered something.

—Oh yeah, he said.

He dug into his trousers pocket.

—I kept these for yeh. Your, em, panties, isn’t tha’ what yis call them?

He was really scarlet.

—Me knickers!

Sharon was stunned, and then amused. She couldn’t help it. He looked so stupid and unhappy.

She put the knickers in her jacket pocket. Mister Burgess, she noticed, wiped his hand on his cardigan. She nearly laughed.

—Wha’ were yeh doin’ with them? she asked.

—I was keepin’ them for yeh. So they wouldn’t get lost.

He was purple now. His hands were in and out of his cardigan pockets. He couldn’t look at her.

—Don’t start again, said Sharon. —Just tell us the truth.

—Ah Jaysis, it was stupid really. Again. ——A joke —I was goin’ to show them to the lads.

—Oh my —!

—But I didn’t I didn’t, Sharon! I didn’t.

He coughed.

—I wouldn’t.

Sharon went to the door.

—I’ve changed me mind, she said. —Give us the tenner. I deserve it.

—Certainly, Sharon. Good girl. There y’are.

Sharon took the money. She stopped at the door.

—Remember: if you ever say annythin’ about me again I’ll tell Missis Burgess wha’ yeh did.

—Yeh needn’t worry, Sharon. Me lips are sealed.

—Well —Just remember. ——Bye bye.

—Cheerio, Sharon. Thanks, ——very much —

She was a great young one, George decided as Sharon shut the door after her. And a good looker too. But, my God——! He sat down and shook like bejaysis for a while. She’d do it; tell Doris. No problem to her. He’d have to be careful. Think but: he’d ridden her. And he’d made her pregnant,
HE
had.

—Jaysis.

He was a pathetic little prick, Sharon thought as she went back across the road to her house. He was pathetic. He wouldn’t yap anymore anyway. He’d be too scared to.

* * *

Bertie put his pint down.

—Caramba! he said. —That’s fuckin’ lovely.

—It is alrigh’, Bimbo agreed. —Lovely.

—Is it a new bike? Jimmy Sr asked Bertie.

—Nearly, yeah, said Bertie.

—Fuck off now, said Jimmy Sr. —How old is it?

—A few months only.

—Any scratches?

—Not at all, said Bertie. —It’s perfect.

Bimbo shifted to one side and farted. They started laughing.

—My Jaysis, said Paddy. —You’re fuckin’ rotten.

—There’s somethin’ dead inside you, d’yeh know tha’? said Jimmy Sr, waving his hand in the air and leaning away from Bimbo.

Bimbo wiped his eyes with his fist.

—Yeh can smell it from here, said a voice from a distant corner.

That got them laughing again.

—They sound great in these chairs, Bimbo explained.

—Yeah, said Bertie. —Tha’ stuff’s great.

—Leatherette.

—Si.

—I don’t believe I’m hearin’ this, said Paddy.

—Ah fuck off, Paddy, said Jimmy Sr. —Annyway, it’s your twist.

Jimmy Sr turned back to Bertie.

—Okay, he said. —You’re on.

—Good, said Bertie. —Mucho good. Are yeh sure now you’ll be able to get me the jacks?

—No problem to me.

—An’ one o’ those yokes for washin’ your arse? A bidet.

—No problem.

—Wha’ would yeh want one o’ them for? Bimbo asked.

—For washin’ your arse, yeh fuckin’ eejit, said Paddy.

—Yeah, but wha’ would yeh want to do tha’ for? Bimbo wanted to know. —Puttin’ your arse wet back into your knickers.

—You’ve got a point there, said Jimmy Sr.

—It’s a buyer’s market, Bimbo, compadre mio, said Bertie. —My client he wants to wash his hole, so ——I’ll wash it for him meself if he pays me enough. Fawn? he asked Jimmy Sr.

—Okay. No problem.

—What’s fawn? Bimbo asked.

—The colour!

—Oh yeah.

—Jesus, said Paddy.

* * *

—Wha’ did yeh say to him? Yvonne asked.

—I said I couldn’t help it, said Sharon.

—He must be a righ’ fuckin’ bastard, said Jackie. —I know what I’d’ve told him.

—I said I couldn’t help it if I had to keep goin’ to the toilet. He blushed, yeh should’ve seen him. Just cos I said Toilet.

—Jesus, are yeh serious? He must be red all the time, is he?

—He’s a fuckin’ eejit, said Sharon. —He said it wasn’t fair on the other girls. An’ I said they didn’t mind. They don’t annyway. Most o’ them prefer the check-out. Cos they can sit down. ——’Cept when it’s really busy. But you’d swear stackin’ shelves was a fuckin’ luxury, the way he talked. That’s all he is annyway. A shelf stacker in a suit. He’s not a real manager at all. He’s only one o’ them trainee ones. Paddy in the bakery called him tha’ to his face once, a shelf stacker in a suit. It was fuckin’ gas.

—Is he good lookin’, Sharon? Mary asked.

—Are yeh jokin’ me! said Sharon. —Yeh know Roland the Rat? Well, he looks like him. Only not as nice.

They laughed.

—Jesus then, listen, said Sharon.

She’d remembered something else.

—He asked me why I wasn’t wearin’ me uniform, an’ I —

She did it as she said it.

—stuck me belly out an’ I said, It doesn’t fit me. Yeh should’ve seen his face, I’m not jokin’ yis.

They screamed.

—Ah, said Jackie. —The poor chap must’ve been embarrassed.

—Yeah, Sharon, said Mary. —You’re mean.

They laughed again.

—Well —said Sharon. —I was only standin’ up for me rights.

—You were dead right, Sharon, said Yvonne. —Yeh should’ve stuck one o’ your tits in his mouth as well.

—Jesus!!

They really screamed now.

—Oh look it, said Yvonne when they’d recovered. —There’s your chap, Mary.

They looked across at the lounge boy.

Yvonne waved at him.

—Come here!

—Is he comin’?

———No.

They started laughing again.

* * *

A few Sundays after Sharon had sorted out George Burgess, at a quarter to seven, Jimmy Sr was standing in the bar jacks, tucking a bit of shirt back into his fly. The lads had all gone home for their tea and to bring their wives back later —because it was Sunday. Jimmy Sr was going home now himself to collect Veronica.

He decided to wash his hands. They’d installed a new hand dryer and he wanted to have a go on it.

He had his hands in under the dryer and was wondering how long more it would take when he saw George Burgess in the mirror, coming in. George walked behind Jimmy Sr and put his hand on his shoulder. He smiled at Jimmy Sr in the mirror.

—How’s it goin’, Jimmy? he said.

Jimmy Sr shrugged violently.

—Get your fuckin’ hands off me, Burgess.

George was very surprised, and worried.

——What’s wrong with
YOU?
he asked, still looking at the mirror.

—You know fuckin’ well what’s wrong with me.

Jimmy Sr turned.

—I haven’t a clue, Jim, said George.

He stepped back a bit, to make room for Jimmy Sr.

—Don’t start, said Jimmy Sr. —If you’re goin’ to start tha’ then we’ll go outside an’ have it ou’ now.

George hadn’t been in a fight since 1959, in Bray. He’d lost
it, and two of his teeth. And, he was only realizing it now that this was Sharon’s father he was having a row with.

—Look, Jimmy, I don’t know wha’ you’re talkin’ abou’ so you’ll have to tell me.

—I’ll tell yeh alrigh’. You were sayin’ things abou’ Sharon.

Jimmy Sr’s face dared George to deny it.

—I said nothin’ abou’ Sharon, Jimmy. I —

Jimmy Sr gave George’s chest a good dig. It was loud but not too hard; a warning.

—Yeh fuckin’ did, pal, said Jimmy Sr. —Cos Bimbo heard yeh.

—I didn’t mean anny harm, for fuck sake; it was only a joke —

Jimmy Sr thumped him again, harder. George stayed put. He wasn’t going to let himself be pinned to the urinal wall. He’d his good suit on him.