The Barrytown Trilogy (30 page)

—I nearly gave birth in the fuckin’ hall, Jackie, she said. —I’m not jokin’ yeh.

* * *

—When will they be finished, Mammy? said Tracy.

—When they’re ready, said Veronica.

—When?

—Get out.

Linda spoke.

—We have to have them —

—Get out!

Veronica felt Larrygogan at her feet. She gave him a kick and she didn’t feel a bit guilty about it after.

* * *

Jimmy Sr got moodier. He wouldn’t go out. He sat in the kitchen. He roared at the twins. He walloped Darren twice. He’d have hit Les as well but he didn’t see Les. He stayed in bed, didn’t go to work two mornings the next week. He listened to the radio and ate most of a packet of Hobnobs one of the mornings and Veronica nearly cut herself to ribbons on the crumbs when she got into bed that night. He couldn’t have been that sick, she said. It wasn’t his stomach that was sick, Jimmy Sr told her. What was it then? He didn’t answer.

But she’d guessed it and she wanted to box his ears for him.

Jimmy Sr knew he could snap out of it but he didn’t want to. He was doing it on purpose. He was protesting; that was how he described it to himself. He’d been wronged; he was suffering and he wanted them all to know this. Especially Sharon.

What he was doing was getting at Sharon. He wanted to make her feel bad, to make her realize just how much she’d hurt her father and the rest of the family.

He couldn’t tell her. That wasn’t the way to do it. She’d have to work it out herself —he didn’t know; say Sorry or something; admit —something.

He sat in the kitchen by himself. He was dying to go in and watch a bit of the American Wrestling on the Sports Channel —he loved it; it was great gas and he always ended up feeling glad that he lived in Ireland after he’d watched it —but he didn’t want them to see him enjoying himself.

He looked down at the Evening Press crossword.

8 across. Being a seaman he requires no bus. ——What did that fuckin’ mean?

He looked at the pictures of the women’s faces on the Dubliner’s Diary page and decided how many of them he’d ride. ——All of them.

He drew moustaches on some of them, and then glasses.

Bimbo called.

—He’s in the kitchen, said Darren.

—There y’are, said Bimbo.

—Howyeh, Bimbo, said Jimmy Sr. —I’m not comin’ ou’.

—Ah, why not?

—Ah, said Jimmy Sr. —I’m not well. ——I’m fed up, Bimbo. I’ve had it up to here.

—Wha’ has yeh tha’ way?

—Ah —, said Jimmy Sr.

He was saying nothing.

—I know wha’ you need, said Bimbo. —An’ so do you. A kick up the hole an’ a few nice pints.

—No way, said Jimmy Sr.

—Go on, said Bimbo. —Yeh must be constipated, yeh haven’t had a pint in ages. Bertie says your shite must be brown by now.

Jimmy Sr grinned.

—Hang on till I get me jacket.

He was only human.

* * *

Sharon noticed. It wasn’t hard. Her daddy stopped talking to her during the drives into work. He stopped saying Thanks Sharon when she handed him things at the table. He stopped asking her how she was and saying There’s Sharon when she came in from work or in the mornings. He said Howyeh to her as if it cost him money.

At first she didn’t know why. He’d been great before; bringing her out, giving her lifts, telling her not to mind what people said. He’d helped her. He’d been brilliant. But now he didn’t want anything to do with her.

It annoyed her.

She caught him looking at her belly when she turned from the cooker. She let him know he’d been snared.

—I’m gettin’ very big, amn’t I? she said.

—S’pose so, he answered.

That was all; no joking, no smile, not even a guilty look. He
just stared at the cinema page of the Press. He never went to the pictures.

She knew now for definite what was eating him: she was. There he was, sitting there, pretending to read the paper. For a second she thought she was going to cry, but she didn’t. She would have a few weeks ago, but not now. She had no problem stopping herself. A few weeks ago she wouldn’t have blamed him for being like this. But —she flattened her hands on her belly —it was a bit late to be getting snotty now.

She’d have to do something.

* * *

What though? What could she do?

She didn’t know.

But she did know that she wasn’t going to put up with it. He probably didn’t believe her about the sailor. Why couldn’t he, the oul’ bastard? Everyone else did. There was nothing she could do to make him believe her —at least she didn’t think there was —but she wasn’t going to let him go on treating her like shite. The twins might start copying him; and Darren. And then she’d be having the baby in —in ten weeks —Jesus —and if it didn’t look a bit Spanish they’d all gang up on it before it was even fully out of her.

There was nothing in the book about snotty das. She was on her own.

She took all her clothes off and locked her parents’ bedroom door and looked at herself in the wardrobe mirror and the dressing table mirror. Jesus, she looked terrible. She was white in one mirror and greeny-pink in the other one. Her tits were hanging like a cow’s. They weren’t anything like that before. A fella she’d gone with —Niall, a creep —once said that she should have been in the army because her tits stood to attention. She looked like a pig. In both the mirrors.

She washed her hair but the shampoo stayed in it and it looked worse. Now she wanted to cry. She tried to think of something to set her off. She thought of everything but she couldn’t cry. A few drinks would have got her going; bawling.
But she’d no money. And now the baby was throwing wobblers inside of her.

—Ah, lay off, will yeh, she said.

She sat down on her bed and slumped and stayed that way for ages.

* * *

Jimmy Sr began to time his moods. This gave him the best of both worlds. He could enjoy his depression when Sharon was around or when he thought she was around and he could enjoy his few pints with the lads as well. Sharon didn’t go up to the Hikers any more —she went to Howth or Raheny or into town —so he let her believe that he didn’t go there either. He didn’t announce it or anything. He just hinted at it. He wondered out loud where he’d go tonight or he waited till she went out before he went out. Or he stayed in. He wanted her to think she’d robbed his local off him.

Now and again guilt got to him. He felt like a bollix and he thought he should leave her alone and get back to normal. He’d have liked that. But every time he saw one of the soccer shower looking his way or when Georgie Burgess came into his head he decided to keep it up. Anyway, it was for her own good. She had to be made to realize all the trouble she’d caused, the consequences of her messing around.

One time at the dinner he came within that, an inch, of giving the twins a few quid to go and get choc-ices for everyone. It was a lovely day, a scorcher. But he’d stopped himself just in time.

Mind you, he bought one for himself later on his way up to the Hikers.

* * *

Now was as good a time as any.

—What —, Jimmy Sr started.

Bertie, Bimbo and Paddy paid attention.

—What, said Jimmy Sr, —is hard an’ hairy on the outside —

Bimbo started giggling. Hairy was a great word.

—is soft an’ wet on the inside —

They were laughing already.

—begins with a C —

—Oh Jaysis! said Bimbo.

—ends with a T, an’ has a U an’ an N in it?

They sat there laughing, Jimmy Sr as well.

Paddy knew he was going to be wrong.

—A cunt, he said.

—No, said Jimmy Sr. —A coconut.

They roared.

* * *

—Hey Daddy, said Linda. —Will yeh watch us for a bit to tell us wha’ we’re doin’ wrong?

Jimmy Sr looked up at her.

—Can’t yeh see I’m readin’ me paper? he said.

* * *

Veronica was looking in the dressing table mirror, hunting an eyelash that was killing her. She was leaning over the stuff on the table so she could get right in to the mirror. She saw Jimmy Sr’s head floating behind her shoulder. She felt his hand go down between the cheeks of her bum. His finger pressed into her skirt.

—You’re still a great lookin’ —

—Get away from me, you, she barked at the mirror.

She clouted his arm with the hairbrush.

—Oh Jesus! Me fuckin’ —There was no need for tha’. The face was gone from the mirror.

She’d been wanting to do something like that for days. Weeks.

* * *

Sharon asked Jackie to back her up.

—Yeah, said Jackie. —No problem.

—Is that alrigh’ then?

—Yeah. It is, said Jackie. —An’, come here. If nothin’ happens an’ he’s still actin’ the prick, we’ll go ahead an’ do it, okay?

—Are yeh serious?

—Yeah. Why not?

They were sitting in the front room of Jackie’s house.

—I hate this fuckin’ room, said Jackie.

Sharon laughed.

—Yeh can’t open the door without trippin’ over one of her ornaments, said Jackie.

* * *

He wasn’t in the kitchen. She looked in the front room. He was in there by himself, watching MTV with the sound down. He only turned the sound up when he recognized the singers or when he liked the look of them. Veronica had been in bed since just after the tea. It had been a bad day. The twins and Darren were in bed. The twins were asleep. Darren was listening to Bon Jovi on Jimmy Jr’s walkman. Jimmy would kill him when he caught him but it was worth it: Bon Jovi were brilliant. Jimmy Jr was in Howth, trying to get into Saints. Mickah Wallace was with him so it wasn’t easy. Les was out. Larrygogan was in the coal shed.

Jimmy Sr didn’t go to bed these days until Sharon got in.

—Hiyeh, said Sharon.

Jimmy Sr didn’t answer. He kept his eyes on Curiosity Killed the Cat.

—I said Hiyeh, Daddy, said Sharon.

—I heard yeh.

—Then why didn’t yeh answer me?

—Wait a —

—An’ why haven’t yeh answered for the last —weeks?

She got the pouffe and sat in front of him.

—You’re in me way, look it, he said.

She said it louder.

—Why haven’t yeh answered me?

—Get lost, will yeh; I have.

Jimmy Sr’d been taken by surprise. He tried to look around Sharon. She leaned back —it wasn’t easy —and turned off the telly.

—Yeh haven’t, she said. —Yeh haven’t said hello to me properly in ages.

Jimmy Sr was never going to admit anything like that.

—You’re imaginin’ things, he said.

—No, I’m not.

She looked straight at him. There wasn’t any shaking in her voice. She just spoke. She was a bit frightening.

—I’ll tell yeh the last time yeh spoke to me.

—I said hello to yeh yesterday.

—Yeh didn’t. Not properly. The last time yeh said hello to me properly was before the night yeh got hit in the nose.

—Now listen; that’s not true.

—It is. An’ you know it.

Jimmy Sr wondered if he’d be able to get past her and up to bed. He thought she was capable of trying to stop him.

—Are yeh goin’ to tell me why? Sharon asked him.

He looked as if he was going to get up. She didn’t know what she’d do if he did that. She’d follow him.

—There’s nothin’ to tell, for fuck sake, said Jimmy Sr.

—It’s me, isn’t it?

—Go up to bed, will yeh.

—It is, said Sharon. —I can tell.

Sharon nearly had to stop herself from grinning as she asked the next question.

—Did I do somethin’ to yeh?

Jesus, she was asking him had she done something: had she done something! She could sit there and —

—You’ve done nothin’, Sharon.

—I’ll tell yeh what I’ve done.

Her voice had softened. The bitch; he couldn’t have a proper row with her that way.

—I’m pregnant. ——I saw yeh lookin’ at me.

Jimmy Sr said nothing yet.

—I’ve disgraced the family.

—No.

—Don’t bother denyin’ it, Daddy. I’m not givin’ out.

The look on his face gave her the sick for a minute.

—I’ve been stupid, she said. —An’ selfish. I should’ve known. An’ I know tha’ you still think it was Mister Burgess an’ that makes it worse.

—I don’t think it was —

—Ah ah! she very gently gave out to him. ——You were great. Yeh did your best to hide it.

—Ah, Sharon —

—If I leave it’ll be the best for everyone. Yeh can get back to normal.

—Leave.

—Yeah. Leave. Go. Yeh know what I mean.

She stopped herself from getting too cheeky.

—I’m only bringin’ trouble for you an’ Mammy, so I’m ——Me an’ Jackie are goin’ to get a flat. Okay?

—You’re not goin’?

—I am. I want to. It’s the best. Nigh’ night.

She went upstairs.

—Ah Sharon, no.

Sharon got undressed. She wondered if it would work; what he was thinking; was he feeling guilty or what. The face on him when she was talking to him; butter wouldn’t melt in his fuckin’ mouth, the bastard. She got into bed. She wondered if she’d be here next week. God, she hoped so. She didn’t want to move into a flat, even with Jackie. She’d seen some. She didn’t want to be by herself, looking after herself and the baby. She wanted to stay here so the baby would have a proper family and the garden and the twins and her mammy to look after it so she could go out sometimes. She didn’t want to leave. What was he thinking down there?

Jimmy Sr sat back and stretched.

Victory: he’d won. Without having to admit anything himself, he’d got her to admit that she was the one in the wrong. She was to blame for all this, and he’d been great. She’d said it herself.

Jimmy Sr stretched further and sank down in the couch. He punched his fists up into the air.

—Easy! Easy! he roared quietly.

He’d won. He’d got what he wanted.

—Here we go, here we go, here we go!

He stood up.

He could get back to normal now. He’d drive her all the way to work on Monday, right up to the door. He’d bring her out for a drink at tea-time on Sunday, up to the Hikers. He’d insist.

He switched on the telly to have a quick look and see if there was a good video on. There was a filthy one they sometimes showed after midnight. No; it was only some shower of wankers running down a beach. He switched it off.