The Barrytown Trilogy (59 page)

Poor little sap; he’d give him the order even if his ma didn’t come. He turned to get a spice-burger.

—Wha’ the fuck —

—Wha’?

—Yeh can’t fuckin’ do tha’ in here!

Sharon was changing Gina’s nappy.

Jesus; if a health inspector or a guard was passing and looked in and saw the baby’s little arse pointing out at him they’d be rightly fucked. Or Mister Whippy over the other side of the roundabout; if he saw what Sharon was doing he’d race down to Raheny station and report them, and he’d play the Teddy Bears’ Picnic all the fuckin’ way.

Jimmy Sr slammed down the hatch.

—Back in a minute, he told the kid waiting outside.

—Quick! he said. —Hurry up. An’ mind nothin’ drops into the chips.

Sharon giggled. Bimbo was battering away. It wasn’t dark exactly; you could see everything. It was quite nice really.

—Are yeh finished? said Jimmy Sr.

—Nearly.

Sharon put the old nappy into a plastic bag and put that bag into her proper bag.

—Pity the poor fucker tha’ robs your handbag, said Jimmy Sr.

They laughed, and Jimmy Sr opened the hatch. The kid was still there.

—Still here, said Jimmy Sr.

—Me ma’s comin’, said the kid.

—She’s a lucky woman, said Jimmy Sr.

—Daddy!

Jimmy Sr slid the spice-burger into the cooking oil.

—Now.

He put a few chips into a bag, nice big ones, and handed them out to the kid.

—Have them while you’re waitin’, he said.

—A one an’ one there, please.

Jimmy Sr looked to see who’d said that. It was a man about his own age, wearing a Hawaii 5-0 shirt and a Bobby Charlton haircut. Bimbo sank the cod into the fryer.

—Grand day again, said Jimmy Sr to the man.

—We’re spoilt, said the man.

—What’s the water like today? said Jimmy Sr.

—Shockin’, said the man. —Filthy dirty, it is. Yeh wouldn’t make your worst enemy swim in it.

—Yes, I would, Jimmy Sr told him. —Won’t be a minute here.

—No hurry.

Sharon handed out the spice-burger and chips to the young fella. He didn’t take them.

—Me ma’s comin’, he said.

—You’re alrigh’, said Jimmy Sr. —Go on. She can pay us when she comes; go on.

Gina started singing.

—
OLÉ
——
OLÉ OLÉ OLÉ
—

They all joined in.

Jimmy Sr got the cod out the fryer, shook the drops off it and put it in its bag and put that into the brown bag; a grand big piece of fish it was too. Sharon gave him the bag of chips and he slid that in alongside the cod.

—
OLÉ
——
OLÉ OLÉ OLÉ
– The works? he asked the man.

He held the salt over the bag.

—Fire away, said the man.

—Righto, said Jimmy Sr. —Say when.

The man took the bag. He handed two of the new pound coins to Jimmy Sr but stopped just short of Jimmy’s reach.

—Me ma’s comin’, he said.

They laughed and he gave the money to Jimmy Sr. Jimmy Sr gave him his change and that was that.

—Good luck now, said Jimmy Sr. —Enjoy your meal.

—Cheerio, said the man.

Jimmy Sr watched him trying to wheel his bike and eat his chips at the same time. There was a woman outside now, trying to get her shower of kids to make up their minds what they wanted.

—Milkshake! said one of them.

They were all over her; it was hard to be sure how many kids she had with her; about six, and another on the way, now that Jimmy Sr looked at her properly.

—It isn’t McDonald’s, she told the milkshake kid.

—Wha’ is it? said the kid.

—It’s a lurry! said his sister, and she gave him a smack in the mouth, and legged it.

—Look at this, Jimmy Sr said to Sharon.

—Six singles, said the woman when she made it to the counter. —No; seven. Me as well.

—I don’t want chips, said one of the boys.

—Well, you’re gettin’ them! said the woman. —And anyway, you, you’re not even one o’ mine so yeh should be grateful.

The woman looked at Sharon.

—I only own three o’ them, she said.

That was all.

She looked as if she could lie down under the van and go fast asleep, and maybe not wake up again.

—Never again, she said.

—They’re lovely, said Sharon.

—They’re bastards, said the woman. —Every fuckin’ one o’ them.

She looked as if she felt better after getting that off her chest, and she straightened up. She patted her stomach.

—This’ll be the last, she said. —He can stick it in a milk bottle after tha’, so he can.

Sharon was shocked. She’d never seen the woman before.

There was a scream; the littlest lad was having a bucket of crabs and stones and water poured down his togs. The woman patted her stomach again.

—With a bit o’ luck this one’ll be deaf an’ dumb.

She didn’t smile: she meant it.

—Righ’! Jimmy Sr yelled. —Line up for your chipses!

—Me!!

—Your mammy first! said Jimmy Sr. —Get back.

—She’s always first!

—Get back!

—Not fair —

—Into line, said Jimmy Sr. —Or I’ll dump your chips into the sand.

He held a bag of chips up, ready to throw it.

—A straight line. ——Salt an’ vinegar, love?

—Loads.

That was when Bobby Charlton came back. He threw his bike against the wall of the van.

—Come here —!!

Jimmy Sr dropped the salt.

—Mother o’ fuck!

The woman yelped.

—Come here! the man said again.

But the bike slid onto the ground and he tried to pick it up but his leg got on the wrong side of the crossbar, and he’d only one hand to work with because the other one was still holding the chips. He gave up trying to lift the bike and stepped over it, and nearly tripped. He leaned against the van.

He’d given Jimmy Sr time to get his act together.

—What’s your problem? said Jimmy Sr.

—I’ll tell yeh —

—I’m dealin’ with a customer here, Jimmy Sr told him. —You’ll have to wait your turn.

The man was right up at the hatch now, like he was going to climb in.

—I’ll tell yeh wha’ my problem is – , the man started again.

—There’s a queue, said the woman.

—There won’t be when I’m finished here, said the man.

Jimmy Sr, Sharon and Bimbo were at the hatch. Jimmy Sr handed the singles down to the woman and she handed them on to the kids.

—Excuse me! said the man.

—Calm down, said Bimbo. —Calm down.

—Sap, said Sharon, but not loud.

—Three eighty-five, Sharon told the woman when she looked up.

—Be careful eatin’ them, the man told the woman.

That sounded bad.

—Oh Christ, said Bimbo.

He looked back at the fryer.

—Righ’, said Jimmy Sr, when Sharon had given the woman her change. —What’s your problem?

He’d been thinking about it; he hadn’t a clue what was going to happen. He stared down at the man.

—It’s your problem, said the man.

—Wha’ is?

—This.

He held up the bag in his hand, far enough away not to be grabbed.

Jimmy Sr leaned out to see.

—The chips?

—No!

—The fish?

The man looked very upset.

—Fish! he said.

—It’s fresh, Bimbo assured him. —It was grand an’ hard comin’ out o’ the —

—Fresh! the man screamed.

Jimmy Sr had to say it again.

—What’s your problem?

—Will yeh look it.

But he still wouldn’t bring his hand in any closer to the hatch.

—I can’t fuckin’ see it, said Jimmy Sr. ——Wha’ever —

Maybe it was maggots.

—I bit into it——, said the man.

—That’s wha’ you were supposed to do, said Jimmy Sr.

—This chap was some tulip.

—Wha’ did yeh think yeh were supposed to do with it; ride it?

Now the man did come closer; he banged into the van.

—Oh Jesus, said Sharon.

She got back and went beside Gina.

The man’s mouth was open crooked. He really looked like a looper now. They could see into the bag.

—It’s not fish—, said Bimbo.

—Oh fuck—. What is it?

Hang on though —

—It’s white, said Jimmy Sr.

—It’s a nappy! the man told him.

—Wha’! ——Fuck off, would yeh.

—He’s righ’, Jimmy, said Bimbo. —It’s a Pamper; folded up. My God, that’s shockin’.

—Shut up! Jimmy Sr hissed at him.

—I must have put it in the batter —

—Shut up!

—What is it? said Sharon.

The man wasn’t angry-looking now; he looked like he needed comfort.

—Is it a used one? Jimmy Sr asked him, and he crossed his fingers.

—No!

—Ah well, said Jimmy Sr. —That’s alrigh’ then.

—That’s how, said Bimbo. —It’d look like a piece o’ cod, folded up like. Ah, that’s gas.

—Sorry abou’ tha’, said Jimmy Sr to the man. —We’ll give yeh your money back, an’ a can o’ Coke; how’s tha’ sound? Were the chips alrigh’?

The man wasn’t won over. He folded the bag into a neater package and put it under his arm.

—I’m goin’ to the guards with this, he said.

—Ah, there’s no need —

—This is the evidence, the man interrupted Bimbo.

He checked to see that the bag was still under his arm.

—You’ll be hearin’ more about this, he told them. —Don’t you worry. I’ll never recover from a shock like this.

—A tenner, said Jimmy Sr. —Will tha’ do yeh?

—What’s your name? he asked Jimmy Sr.

—I don’t have to tell you tha’, said Jimmy Sr.

—I don’t care, said the man. —I’ve the evidence here.

—Twenty, said Jimmy Sr. —Final offer; go on.

—I’ve the evidence.

—Shove the fuckin’ evidence. We know nothin’ about it.

—You’re not goin’ to bribe me, said the man.

—It’s the suppliers yeh should be reportin’, said Jimmy Sr, —not us. We know nothin’ abou’ nappies.

Gina started singing again. Sharon put her hand over Gina’s mouth, but the man wasn’t listening. He was looking at the sign on the side of the van.

—Which one of yis is Bimbo? he asked.

—Ask me arse, said Jimmy Sr.

He pulled Bimbo over to him.

—Get ou’ an’ start the van.

—But —

—Fuckin’ do it!

Bimbo went to the back door.

—Go round the other way, Jimmy Sr told him.

He remembered something.

—The gas!

Bimbo lifted the gas canister and pushed it into the van. He closed his eyes when it scraped on the floor. Jimmy Sr distracted the man.

—It must be terrible bein’ baldy with the sun like this, he said. —Is it?

Bimbo got to the driver’s door, around the other side of the van, without the man seeing him. He got the buggy off the seat.

—I’m rememberin’ all this, the man told Jimmy Sr.

—Good man, said Jimmy Sr.

He took away the hatch bars when he heard the engine starting.

—See yeh now, Baldy Conscience, he said. —Keep in touch.

And he dropped the hatch door. The salt and the vinegar fell onto the path. He shut the back door.

—Go on, go on!

The van lurched; Jimmy Sr fell forward, and grabbed a shelf. It skipped again, and then they got going.

Jimmy Sr steadied himself. He leaned against the hatch counter.

—My Jaysis —

—He’ll get the registration, said Sharon.

—No, he won’t, said Jimmy Sr.

—Why not?

—We don’t have one. It’s in the shed in Bimbo’s. We never stuck it back on. Just as well, wha’.

—He might be followin’ us, said Sharon.

She had a point.

Jimmy Sr opened the back door. They were still on the causeway road, and there was your man coming after them, pedalling like fuck.

—I’ll get this bollix, said Jimmy Sr.

He looked back, around the van. He stepped over to the hotplate and got a can of Coke from under it. They went over a pothole or something when he was bending over. The hotplate and the fryer were still turned on.

—Jesus; I nearly fuckin’ fried myself.

He got to the canister and switched it off.

He weighed the Coke in his hand, then wiped the grease off it on his shirt.

—You’ll kill him, said Sharon.

She was probably right. They were heavy things when they were full. He grabbed a few pieces of cod. They were still hard enough.

Bimbo turned left instead of right at the top of the causeway road

—What’s he fuckin’ doin’?

—It’s so your man can’t follow us home, said Sharon.

—Fair enough.

He opened the back door again and the man was still after them, but further back; his legs didn’t have it. Jimmy threw a piece of cod anyway, skimmed it, to see how far he could get it. He watched it bounce off the road, well short of the man.

—There’s more evidence for yeh!

He shut the door.

Bimbo brought them to Clontarf, then up the Lawrence’s Road, onto the Howth Road. He went up Collins Avenue at Killester, and to the Malahide Road.

Jimmy Sr looked out again, and saw Cadbury’s in Coolock.

—We’ll end up in fuckin’ Galway, he said.

He threw Gina up and caught her, and again, but not too high because he’d already hit her head off the roof, and he was only doing it now to make her forget about it.

They got home. Jimmy Sr and Sharon were melting when they got out the back. Jimmy Sr had to stand in front of the open fridge door.

—We’ll steer clear o’ Dollier for a while, he said.

—Yeah, said Bimbo.

Bimbo was angry.

—It would never’ve happened if she’d —

—Shut up, said Jimmy Sr.

* * *

Maggie had a great head for ideas; Jimmy Sr had to say that for her. She got flyers printed and sent Wayne and Glenn and Jessica all around putting them into houses. Linda and Tracy
did them as well, until Darren caught them sticking hundreds of the flyers into the letter-box outside the Gem.

BIMBO’S BURGERS
TODAY’S CHIPS TODAY
Wedding Anniversary? Birthday? Or Just Lazy?
Treat Yourself
And
Let Us Cook Your Dinner For You
Ring 374693 and Ask for Maggie