— Where’s it all fit? he wanted to know. — Is this an Irish buke, Sharon?
— No. English.
— Ah, said Jimmy Sr.
— Is Sharon havin’ a baby? Linda asked.
— No! said Jimmy Sr.
— Are yeh, Sharon?
— Are yeh havin’ a baby, Sharon? said Tracy.
— NO, i SAID.
— Sharon, are yeh?
— Aaah! said Jimmy Sr.
— No, I’m not, Sharon told them. — A friend o’ mine is, that’s all.
— Ah, said Tracy, very disappointed.
— Ma? said Linda.
— Mammy, said Veronica.
— Mammy. Will you be havin’ more babies?
— Oh my Jaysis, said Jimmy Sr. — Here. Here. Come here.
He dug into his pockets. He’d no change, so he gave Linda a pound note.
— Go ou’ an’ buy sweets. — Say Thank—
But they were gone. Jimmy Sr saw Darren looking at him.
— What’re you lookin’ at? — Here.
It was a pound.
— Thanks, Da. Rapid.
— Get ou’.—I think yeh’d better read tha’ buke up in your room, Sharon. I can’t afford to do tha’ every nigh’.
— D’yeh think they know? Sharon asked him.
— Not at all, said Jimmy Sr. — They’ll have forgotten all abou’ it once they have their faces stuffed with — with Trigger Bars an’ Cadbury’s fuckin’ Cream Eggs.
— Stop that.
— Sorry, Veronica. — Annyway sure, we’ll have to tell them some time annyway, won’t we?
— Yeah. I suppose so. — Yeah. I hadn’t thought o’ tha’, said Sharon.
— I have, Veronica told her.
Sharon brought the book upstairs.
She read on. She might feel shock: no, not now. She might feel a loss of individuality. She might feel she didn’t matter: no. Like a vesseclass="underline" no. Loveless: yeah — not really.
Scared: a bit. Sick: not yet. Not ready for pregnancy: sort of, but not really.
What she really felt, she decided later in bed, was confused. There was so much. And she wouldn’t have really known that if she hadn’t bought the bleedin’ book.
But she wanted to know. She wanted to know exactly what was going to happen, what was happening even now. She put her hand on her stomach: nothing.
* * *
She felt a bit impatient too. Sometimes she didn’t think anything was going to happen. She hoped the changes came soon. She was ready for it; getting bigger, backache, and the rest of it. In a way she wanted it. She didn’t mind people knowing she was pregnant — as long as no one knew who’d helped her — but she couldn’t go around telling everyone. She could never have done that. Once she started getting bigger, then they’d know. Then they could laugh and talk about it and try and guess who she’d done it with, and then leave her alone. Though she’d have to tell her friends, Jackie and them.
* * *
Jimmy Sr woke up. His neck was killing him. He hated falling asleep sitting on the couch, but he’d had a few pints with the lads after the pitch and putt, so he didn’t know he was falling asleep till now, after he’d woken up. He tried to stretch, and lift his head up.
— Ah—!—fuck—
He shook himself. His chin was wet, and a bit of his shirt.
— Ah Jaysis, he gave out to himself. — Yeh fuckin’ baby, yeh.
He looked at the telly. Cricket.
— Ah, fuckin’ hell.
He always got angry the minute he saw cricket. It really annoyed him, everything about it; the umpires, the white gear, the commentators, the whole fuckin’ lot.
He couldn’t find the remote control, so he had to stand up. When he got to the telly he didn’t bother looking to see if there was anything else on. He just turned it off.
His mouth and throat were dry. He needed Coke, or anything fizzy and cold.
Veronica was in the kitchen, at the table, cutting material.
— Is it still Saturday? said Jimmy Sr.
— The dead arose, said Veronica.
Jimmy Sr went to the fridge. He bent down and took out a large yellow-pack bottle, empty.
— Fuck it annyway!
— Now now.
— There was loads in it this mornin’. I only had a few slugs.
— Jimmy had the rest of it before he went to work, Veronica told him. — He didn’t look very well.
— Fuck’m, said Jimmy Sr. — Why can’t he buy his own?
— Why can’t YOU buy your own?
— I bought this one!
— Excuse ME. I bought it.
— With my fuckin’ money.
Veronica said nothing. Jimmy Sr sat down. He shouldn’t have shouted at her. He felt guilty now. He’d send one of the kids to get her a choc-ice when one of them came in.
— What’s tha’ you’re makin’, Veronica? he asked.
Veronica glanced at him over her glasses.
— A skirt. For Linda, she said.
— No one’ll run her over in the dark annyway, wha’, said Jimmy Sr.
The material was very bright, shiny red.
— Ha ha, said Veronica. — It’s for their majorettes.
— Their wha’?
— Majorettes. You know. Marching to music.
— Wha’? Like in American football?
— That’s right.
This worried Jimmy Sr.
— They’re a bit young for tha’, aren’t they?
— Don’t be stupid, said Veronica. — They’re doing it in school.
— Oh, fair enough so, said Jimmy Sr. — What’s for the dinner?
— You had your dinner, Veronica reminded him.
She put the scissors down on the table. That was that for one day. Her eyes were sore.
— For the tea, said Jimmy Sr.
— A fry, said Veronica.
— Lovely, said Jimmy Sr. — An’ some fried bread maybe?
Veronica looked across. There was one full sliced pan and most of another one.
— Right, she said. — Okay.
— Veronica, said Jimmy Sr. — I love yeh.
— Umf, said Veronica.
The back door opened and Les charged through the kitchen. They heard him walloping the stairs as he ran up to the boys’ room.
— Don’t say hello or ann’thin’! Jimmy Sr roared.
There wasn’t an answer. The door slammed.
— No one just closes doors annymore, said Jimmy Sr. — Did yeh ever notice tha’, Veronica?
Veronica had her head in the fridge. She was wiping some dried milk off the inside of the door.
— They either slam them or they leave the fuckin’ things open, said Jimmy Sr. — I went into the jacks there this mornin’ an’ Linda was sittin’ in there readin’ a comic. Or it might’ve been Tracy.
— You should have knocked, said Veronica.
— The door was open, said Jimmy Sr. — An open jacks door means the jacks is empty. Everywhere in the world except in this house. Walk into the jacks in this house an’ you’ll find a twin, or Jimmy pukin’, or Leslie wankin’—
— Stop that!
— Sorry. — That’s the sort o’ stuff they should be teachin’ them in school. Not Irish or — or German. Shuttin’ jacks doors an’ sayin’ Hello an’ tha’ sort o’ thing. Manners.
— Will you look who’s talking about manners, said Veronica, and she stabbed a sausage a couple of times and turned it, and stabbed it again.
Jimmy Jr came in, from work.
— Howyis, he said.
— Get stuffed, you, said Jimmy Sr.
— Manners! said Veronica.
— Listen here, you, said Jimmy Sr. — You’re not to be drinkin’ all the Coke in the mornin’, righ’. Buy your own.
— I put me money into the house, said Jimmy Jr.
— Is tha’ wha’ yeh call it? Yeh couldn’t wipe your arse with the amount you give your mother.