The Barrytown Trilogy (29 page)

—It’d be worth it, he said, still grinning.

—How much?

—Don’t know. I’m only thinkin’ about it. Don’t tell him but; righ’?

—Don’t worry, said Sharon.

Sharon had asked about him and listened so Jimmy thought he’d better ask about her, and listen.

—How are yeh yourself an’ annyway? he said.

—Grand.

—Gettin’ big, wha’.

He nodded at her belly.

—Yeah, said Sharon.

—Does it hurt?

—No! ——I do exercises for the extra weight an’ tha’.

—Yeah?

—Yeah. Sometimes only.

—Nothin’ wrong then?

—No. Not really.

—D’yeh get sick?

—No. Not annymore.

—That’s good. I was in bits meself this mornin’.

—Were yeh?

—Yeah. The oul’ rum an’ blacks, yeh know.

—Oh Jesus.

—I know. Never again. I puked me ring; Jesus. And me lungs. The oul’ fella was batterin’ the door. ——Come here, d’yeh eat annythin’ funny?

—No.

—I saw yeh eatin’ tha’ long stuff; what’s it ——celery.

—That’s not funny.

—S’pose not. Never ate it.

—It’s nice.

—Mickah’s ma ate coal when she was havin’ him.

—Jesus!

—He says annyway. She said she used to nibble it when no one was lookin’.

—That’s gas ——

Jimmy looked at his watch. It wasn’t there.

—Bollox! I’ve left me watch in work again.

—I’m goin’ to me check-up tomorrow, Sharon told him.

—Yeah?

—Yeah. Me second one, it is.

—That’s great. I’m —

—Not a complete physical this time. Thank God. It took fuckin’ ages the first time, waitin’. They even checked me heart to see if I have a murmur.

She didn’t know why she was telling Jimmy all this. She just wanted to.

—I’d a murmur once, said Jimmy. —But a lorry splattered it.

—Ha ha. Anyway, it’s at eleven.

—Wha’?

Sharon looked at the ceiling.

—Me antenatal check-up, yeh simple-head yeh.

—Oh yeah. That’s great.

He looked at where his watch usually was.

—Meetin’ the lads, yeh know. See yeh, righ’.

—Yeah. See yeh.

He stopped a few steps down.

—An’ come here, he said.

He was reddening a bit.

——Abou’ Burgess bein’ the da an’ tha’.

—He’s not!

—I know, I know tha’. No; I mean —
IF
he was.

—He’s not.

—I fuckin’ know. Will yeh shut up a minute. ——There’s people tha’ still say he is, righ’.

He was getting red again.

—An’ they’ll prob’ly always say it. ——I couldn’t give a shite who the da is. D’yeh know what I mean?

—Yeah. ——Thanks.

—No; I wanted to say tha’. An’ the lads couldn’t give a fuck either.

Sharon grinned.

—Mickah says it’s great.

Sharon laughed.

—He says there’s hope for us all if fuckin’ Burgess can —

—Jimmy!

They laughed.

—Seriously, Jimmy, though, said Sharon. —They don’t really think it was him, do they?

—No, not really. It’s just, yeh know —funnier.

—Yeah.

—Good luck.

He had the door open.

—Jimmy.

—Wha’?

Sharon looked over the landing rail.

—How. Now. Brown. Cow.

—Fuck off, said Jimmy Jr. —You’re the only brown cow around here.

—Thanks very much!

* * *

—I’m not takin’ this, said Jimmy Sr.

He pushed his chair back and stood up and walked away, towards the bar.

—What’s he on abou’? Bimbo asked Bertie.

—Don’t know, compadre, said Bertie.

They got up to follow Jimmy Sr.

* * *

—These are reheats, Jackie complained, but she kept eating them.

—Mine aren’t too bad, said Sharon. —Look it. That’s a lovely one.

She held up a huge, healthy-looking chip.

—Come here, said Jackie. —I wouldn’t mind seein’ tha’ on a young fella.

—Jesus, Jackie!

They screamed laughing.

They were going across the Green to Jackie’s house. It hadn’t rained in ages so the ground was nice and hard.

—I shouldn’t be eatin’ these, said Sharon.

—Wha’ harm can they do yeh?

—They’re all fat an’ things. I don’t know; things that’ll clog me up, I can’t remember. ——She asked me did I eat chips an’ tha’, your woman this mornin’.

—None of her fuckin’ business.

—Yeah. I said I didn’t. Ah, she’s nice though. She says I have the right kind o’ nipples.

—Lezzer.

—Ah stop; for breast feedin’. Me blood pressure’s grand.

—I’m very happy for yeh.

—Fuck off, you.

They got to Jackie’s gate.

—Come here, Jackie, said Sharon. —Did Yvonne say annythin’ else about me?

They’d been talking about Yvonne Burgess before they bought the chips.

—Only; she said you led him on.

—God, said Sharon. —Poor Yvonne. Still, I’ll break her head for her if I see her.

—Yeh know wha’ else though? said Jackie. —She said he paid yeh.

—He did, said Sharon.

Then she laughed.

Jackie looked at her, and then she laughed as well.

—I’m pissed, d’yeh know tha’, said Sharon.

She patted the lodger.

—He’s playin’ fuckin’ tennis in there.

—He’s prob’ly eatin’ your chips, said Jackie.

—Yeuuh; stop.

Jackie remembered what she’d wanted to ask Sharon earlier but she’d been a bit afraid to. Now, with a few vodkas inside her, she was still afraid but it was easier.

—Come here, Sharon, she said. —Why didn’t yeh tell me earlier? Yeh know; abou’ your sailor.

—Aah. I don’t know —

Sharon couldn’t tell her the truth: because I only made it up a few days ago and you
ARE
the first person I told. Or the realler truth: because we’re not that close; or weren’t anyway.

—I just ——I was too embarrassed. Sorry; I should’ve.

—No, it’s okay. I was only —

—Here, I’ll tell yeh the next time, righ’.

They screamed again, but quieter because people were in bed.

* * *

Jimmy Sr came in with a bloody nose. The blood was dry and there wasn’t much of it but it was there to be seen. He put a brown paper bag with grease marks down on the table.

Veronica took off her glasses and scooped up the loose sequins and poured them into a tobacco tin. She put the lid on the tin. Then she saw Jimmy Sr and his nose.

—Where in the name of God did you get that?

—Hang on till I have a look at it, said Jimmy Sr.

He pointed at the bag.

—I got yeh a burger as well.

—You didn’t go into the chipper with that nose!

—No; I got them from the van.

—You can eat them yourself then. Who hit you?

Jimmy Sr had the curtain pulled back and he was trying to get a good look at himself in the kitchen window. He was leaning over the sink.

—It doesn’t look too bad. From here annyway.

—Who hit you?

Veronica was eating the chips but she wasn’t going to go near the burger.

—Ah, I’ll live, said Jimmy Sr.

—More’s the pity, said Veronica. —Who hit you? I want to thank him.

—You would too. Are yeh not eatin’ tha’ burger?

The inspection was over. There was no real damage done. He hadn’t even got any of it on his shirt or his jacket. He’d wash his nose before he went to bed. He took a good bite out of the burger in case Veronica said, Yes, she was eating it.

—I’ll tell yeh one thing though, said Jimmy Sr. —I gave back better than I got.

—Aren’t you great?

—Tha’ soccer shower, said Jimmy Sr. —Yeh know the bunch o’ wankers tha’ hang —used to hang around with Georgie Burgess. They were laughin’, yeh know. The whole gang o’ them. They’ve been at it since —yeh know. The bollixes.

—How d’you know they were laughing at you, for God’s sake?

Jimmy Sr ignored the question. Bimbo had asked it already and he hadn’t answered it then either.

—I got Larry O’Rourke when he was up at the bar an’ I told him if, righ’, if they were laughin’ at me I’d fuckin’ kill them. Every —

Jimmy Sr liberated the rest of the burger.

—Every —’scuse me, Veronica —every jaysis one o’ them. He said they wouldn’t bother their bollixes —pardon,
Veronica —bother laughin’ at me, an’ I said they’d better not. For their own sakes.

—You’re —

—An’ —sorry —I gave him a bit of a dig —nothin’ much now —when he was tryin’ to get past me. Bimbo an’ Bertie got in between us. Just as well.

He wiped his fingers with the bag.

—I’d’ve destroyed him.

Veronica didn’t know what to say. And he was too old to be slapped.

Jimmy Sr continued.

—I’m not goin’ up there annymore. I don’t care. I only have to walk in an’ they’re —

He saw Veronica looking at him.

—I can’t enjoy me pint under those conditions.

Veronica was still looking at him.

—It’s fuckin’ desperate, so it is.

—God almighty, said Veronica.

Jimmy Sr sat down. He tried to explain again.

—If it was annyone else. I don’t care abou’ the age, annyone. But Georgie Burgess! Jesus.

—Oh, shut up. I’m sick of it. Why won’t you believe her?

—Oh, I do believe her. Only —I don’t know. I —

They heard the door. Sharon was coming in.

—Wash your nose, said Veronica.

—There’s no point.

—You want her to see it, don’t you?

—That’s offside, said Jimmy Sr.

It was true though.

He got up too late to be at the sink by the time Sharon came in.

—Hiyis.

—Look, Sharon, said Veronica. —Your father’s been defending your honour. Isn’t he great?

—What happened yeh, Daddy?

—Nothin’, Sharon, nothin’. Don’t listen to your mother. She’s been at the sherry bottle again, ha ha.

Jimmy Sr was at the sink again. He studied the J-cloth, threw it back and rooted in his pockets for a paper hankie. He turned on the cold tap.

—Were you in a fight? Sharon asked him.

—No, no. Not really.

—He was defending your honour, I told you, said Veronica.

—Shut up, Mammy, will yeh.

—Don’t —

—Shut up!

Veronica did. Sharon looked like she was going to kill Jimmy Sr and that was alright with Veronica.

Sharon was angry. Something unfair was going on.

—Wha’ did yeh do? she asked Jimmy Sr.

—Ah —

—Yeah?

—They were sayin’ things about yeh, Sharon, said Jimmy Sr.

His nose was clean now.

—You didn’t hear them, said Veronica.

—I know wha’ I heard, said Jimmy Sr. —I’m not goin’ to stand by an’ let annyone —annyone, I don’t care who, jeer Sharon.

—You’re a fuckin’ eejit, Daddy, said Sharon. —Why couldn’t yeh just ignore them?

—I’m not like tha’, said Jimmy Sr.

He was nearly crying.

—I’m not goin’ to let them jeer yeh.

He was liking himself now.

—Why not, for fuck sake?

Veronica tut-tutted.

Jimmy Sr thumped the table.

—Because you’re my daughter an’ —well, fuck it, you’re my daughter an’ as long as yeh live in this house I’m not goin’ to let bollixes like them say things about yeh.

—Maybe I should leave then.

That hit like a thump.

—Ah no, Sharon.

—Maybe I will if you’re goin’ to get into fights all the time.

—No, Sharon, Jimmy Sr assured her. —It was just the once.

Something had gone wrong.

—I’m not goin’ there again.

That wasn’t the right thing to say, he realized. He changed it.

—I’m not goin’ to listen to them annymore. ——They’re only a shower o’ shites. They’re not worth it.

He felt like a right fuckin’ eejit now. He couldn’t look at Veronica.

—Well —, said Sharon. —Look; I know you mean well —

— I know tha’, Sharon.

—I can fight my own fights, on my own.

—I know tha’.

—No better girl, said Veronica.

—Anyway, said Sharon. —They’ve nothin’ to jeer me about. Now tha’ they know I’m not havin’ the baby for Mister Burgess.

—You’re right o’ course.

Sharon went to bed.

All Jimmy Sr had wanted was value for his nosebleed. But something had gone wrong. A bit of gratitude was all he’d expected. He’d felt noble there for a while before Sharon started talking about leaving, even though he’d been lying. But she’d attacked him instead.

There was more to it than that though.

—She put you back in your box, didn’t she? said Veronica.

Veronica went to bed.

Jimmy Sr stayed there, sitting in the kitchen. He was busy admitting something: he was ashamed of Sharon. That was the problem. He was sorry for her troubles; he loved her, he was positive he did, but he was ashamed of her. Burgess! Even if there
WAS
a Spanish sailor ——Burgess! ——

There was something else as well: she was making an eejit of him. She wasn’t doing it on purpose —there was no way she’d have got herself up the pole just to get at him. That wasn’t what he meant. But, fuck it, his life was being ruined
because of her. It was fuckin’ terrible. He was the laughing stock of Barrytown. It wasn’t her fault —but it was her fault as well. It wasn’t his. He’d done nothing.

Jimmy Sr stood up. He was miserable. He’d admitted shocking things to himself. He’d been honest. He was ashamed of Sharon. He was a louser for feeling that way but that was the way it was. He could forgive her for giving him all this grief but it would still be there after he’d forgiven her. So what was the point?

He did forgive her anyway.

A bit of gratitude would have been nice though. Not just for himself; for Veronica as well.

Jimmy Sr went up to bed.

* * *

Sharon nearly died.

Her heart stopped for a second. It did.

She was just getting to her gate and there was Yvonne Burgess, coming out of her house, across the road.

She must have seen her.

Sharon threw the gate out of her way and dashed up the path. She nearly went head-first through the glass in the front door. She hadn’t her key with her. Oh Jesus. She rang the bell. She couldn’t turn around. She rang the bell. She was bursting for the toilet. She rang the fuckin’ bell. And she wanted to get sick. She rang the —The door opened. She fell in.