— They’re not real computers annyway, sure they’re not.
— Not at all, said Veronica. — They’re only toys.
Jimmy Sr and Veronica were doing a bit of Christmas shopping. It was Thursday morning and more than three weeks to go, so Donaghmede Shopping Centre — where they were — wasn’t too bad, not too crowded. They hadn’t really said it, but they were looking for things that looked good and cost nothing. It reminded Jimmy Sr of when he was a kid and he used to walk along with his head down and pray, really pray, that he’d find money on the path, and he’d close his eyes turning a corner and then open them and there’d be nothing on the ground in front of him.
— And they’re very bad for your eyes, said Veronica.
— Is tha’ righ’? said Jimmy Sr. — Oh yeah; I read somethin’ abou’ tha’ somewhere, I think. — Ah well, then. We’d be mad to get one for them.
They’d just been looking at the computers in a window. They were for nothing, dirt cheap; great value they looked. You linked them into the telly and then you could play all kinds of games on them. Jimmy Sr had played Space Invaders once, years ago; only the once, so he hadn’t really got the hang of it, but he’d enjoyed himself. These things looked better; more colours and varieties. It would have been good to have one at home, a bit of gas. And, as well as that, it was a computer, after all; there were probably other things you could do with them, not just play games. Only they couldn’t afford one of the fuckin’ things. Last year now, last year they’d have bought—
— Sure, who’d we give it to? said Veronica.
— The twins. I suppose.
— They wouldn’t be interested, said Veronica. — They’d hate you if you gave them one of them.
She laughed.
— I’d love to see the look on their faces if they thought they were getting a computer game for Christmas.
Jimmy Sr laughed as well now.
— Yeah, he said. — I just thought they looked the business, yeh know. Darren?
— He’d be insulted.
She was right.
— You’d be the only one who’d use it, said Veronica.
He made himself smile.
— True, he said.
— We’ll get you an Airfix instead, said Veronica.
It was crying alright; she was crying.
Jimmy Sr was outside Sharon’s room. He’d come up for his book.
Sharon snuffled.
Jimmy Sr held the door handle. He was going to go in.
But he couldn’t.
He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t have known what to do any more.
He went back down to the kitchen very carefully, and stepped down over the stair with the creak in it.
Veronica had been in already to have a look at her. It was his turn now. One, two—
He grabbed the handle and went straight into the front room.
— Sorry, Darren; for bargin’ in on yeh — Oh, hello.
— Hi.
She smiled. God, she was lovely.
He held his hand out to her.
— Darren’s da, he said. — Howyeh.
She blushed a bit; lovely.
— This is Miranda, Darren told Jimmy Sr.
— Sorry, said Jimmy Sr. — I didn’t catch—
— Miranda, said Darren.
— Miranda, said Jimmy Sr. — Howyeh, Miranda.
— Fine, thank you, said Miranda.
—’Course yeh are, said Jimmy Sr.
— Were yeh lookin’ for somethin’ in particular? Darren asked him.
He had one of his smirks on him, one of his they-treat-me-like-a-kid ones. But he was chuffed as well, you could tell.
Jimmy Sr patted him on the head.
— I am indeed, Darren, son, he said. — I’m lookin’ for Gina.
— She’s not here.
— No, that’s true, Jimmy Sr agreed. — But Miranda is, wha’. Bye bye, Miranda.
He shut the door after him. She was a cracker alright. Veronica’d said she was lovely but women always said that other women were lovely and they weren’t; they hadn’t a clue. Miranda though, she was a—
A ride; she was. It was weird thinking it; his son was going out with a ride; but it was true. He could’ve given himself a bugle now, out here in the hall, just remembering what she was like and her smile; no problem.
He’d never gone out with a young one like that.
He went back into the kitchen to tell Veronica he liked her.
There were days when there was this feeling in his guts all the time, like a fart building up only it wasn’t that at all. It was as if his trousers were too tight for him, but he’d check and they weren’t, they were grand; but there was a little ball of hard air inside in him, getting bigger. It was bad, a bad sort of excitement, and he couldn’t get rid of it. It was like when he was a kid and he’d done something bad and he was waiting for his da to come home from work to kill him. He used to use his belt, the bollix. He didn’t wear a belt; he only kept it for strapping Jimmy Sr and his brothers; under the sink he kept it, a big leather thing; he’d take ages bending over, looking for it and then testing it on the side of the sink and saying Ah yes as if he was pleased with it; and he’d stare at Jimmy Sr and make him stare back and then Jimmy Sr’d feel the pain on the side of his leg and again and again and it was fuckin’ terrible and it was worse if he took his eyes off his da’s eyes, the fuckin’ sadistic cunt, so he had to keep staring back at him; it was agony, but not as bad as the waiting. Waiting for it was the worst part. If he did something early in the day and his mother said she was going to tell his da, that was it; she never changed her mind. He’d go through the whole day scared shitless, waiting for his da to come home, praying that he’d go for a pint first or get knocked down by a car or fall into a machine at work or get a heart attack, any fuckin’ thing.
And that was how he sometimes — often — felt now, scared shitless. And he didn’t know why.
— Did yeh ever read David Copperfield, Veronica? said Jimmy Sr.
— No, said Veronica.
She was reading Lord of the Flies at the kitchen table.
— Did yeh not? said Jimmy Sr. — Ah, it’s very good.
The best thing he’d ever done was give up on that Man in the Iron Mask fuckology.
— Look at the size of it but, he said. — Eight hundred pages. More. Still though, it’s the business. There’s this cunt in it called Mr Micawber an‘, I’m not jokin’ yeh — D’yeh want to read it after me, Veronica?
Veronica finished the note she was taking, about: Piggy getting his head smashed. She knew what he wanted her to say.
— Okay, she said.
— Do yeh? said Jimmy Sr. — Fair enough. I’d better finish it quick so. I’ve to bring it back to the library on the twenty-first of December.
He checked the date.
— Yeah, he said.
— We’ve loads of time, said Veronica.
—’Course we have, said Jimmy Sr.
He was delighted. He didn’t know why, exactly.
— Do you want this one when I’m finished with it? Veronica asked him.
— Okay, said Jimmy Sr. — That’s a good idea. A swap, wha’.
— Yes, said Veronica.
He looked at her reading and stopping and taking her notes. He wondered if maybe he should take notes as well. He sometimes forgot what—
No; that would just have been thick; stupid.
— I’ll go up an’ get a few more chapters read before the tea, he told Veronica.
— Grand, said Veronica.
— They’re stupid fuckin’ things annyway, said Jimmy Sr.
— Ah — I know, but—
Veronica wasn’t convinced.
Jimmy Sr picked up one of the cards.
— For instance, he said, — look at this one, look it. Dessie an’ Frieda; they only live around the fuckin’ corner, we see them every fuckin’ day!