They laughed again.
— Wha’ will yeh do but? Paddy asked Bimbo.
— There’s loads o’ things he can do, said Jimmy Sr.
— Like?
— Doin’ up his house, eh—
— His house is already done up, said Bertie. — It’s already like Elvis’s gaff; what’s it — Graceland.
Bimbo laughed at that, but he was pleased.
— His garden, said Jimmy Sr.
— His garden’s like—
— It’s not like a human garden at all, said Bertie.
— There’s loads o’ things he can do, Jimmy Sr insisted.
— Yeah, said Paddy. — I’m sure there is. Wha’ though?
— He can clean the church on Monday mornin’s, said Bertie.
They roared.
— Some oul’ one tried to get Vera to start doin’ tha‘, said Bertie. — Help cleanin’ the fuckin’ church on Monday mornin’s.
— I wouldn’t say that’d be Vera’s scene exactly, said Jimmy Sr.
— Not at all, said Bertie. — She doesn’t even help to dirty the fuckin’ place on Sunday mornin’s.
Bertie knocked back half of his pint.
— Ahh, he said.
— My turn, said Bimbo.
— The first of many, said Bertie.
— Leo, Bimbo shouted. — When you’re ready. Three—
— Four, said Paddy.
— Four pints an’ four small ones like a good man, please! They said nothing for a bit.
— Ah yes, said Bertie.
He was getting them ready.
— I know wha’ I’d do if I got a lumpo sum like Bimbo’s gettin’, he said.
One of them had to say it. So—
— Wha’? said Jimmy Sr.
— I’d bring it into the Gem, righ’.
— Eh—, righ’.
— An’ I’d wave it under Mandy’s nose an’ let her sniff it a bit.
Jimmy and Paddy started laughing.
— Then I’d bring her round the back, behind the fridge, righ’.
— Oh God.
Bimbo started laughing now.
— An’ I’d — die happy.
They laughed on top of what they were laughing already; Bertie sounded so sincere.
— My Jaysis, compadres, said Bertie when he’d recovered a bit, — I’m not jokin’ yis.
Paddy nodded. He liked Mandy from the Gem as well.
They all liked Mandy.
— You’re a dirty fucker, Jimmy Sr told Bertie.
— I said nothin’ tha’ yis don’t all think when yis go into tha’ shop. Tha’ signorita. My fuckin’ Jaysis.
— She’s only sixteen, abou’, said Bimbo.
— So?
Bimbo shrugged. It didn’t matter; they were only messing.
— I was in there this mornin‘, said Bertie. — She is unfuckinbelievable; isn’t she? I was gettin’ me Sun. She’s as good lookin’ as anny of them Page Three brassers.
— She’s better lookin’, said Jimmy Sr.
— Si, said Bertie, — She fuckin’ is. I said it as well; I told her.
— Yeh didn’t, said Paddy.
Bertie stared Paddy out of it for a second. Then he got back to Mandy.
— I opened it up at page three, righ‘, an’ I showed it to her. Tha’ should be you, I told her.
— Did she say ann‘thin’ back to yeh?
— Si. She told me to fuck off. But she was delighted, yeh could see.
— She’s a lovely-lookin’ girl alrigh’, said Bimbo.
— I made her get a packet o’ crisps for me as well, said Bertie. — I hate the fuckin’ things.
They laughed. They knew what was coming next.
— Just to get her to bend over, yeh know. Caramba, lads, I nearly broke the counter with the bugle I had on me. When she gave them to me I said Salt an’ vinegar so she had to do it again.
— She’ll be fat by the time she’s eighteen, said Paddy.
— No, said Jimmy Sr. — No, she won’t.
— Why not?
— She’s not like tha‘, said Jimmy Sr. — She’s not like those young ones tha’ look like women when they’re fourteen an’ then they’re like their mothers before they’re twenty. She’s not like tha’.
He wondered if he should have been talking like this, if he was maybe giving something away. But Bertie agreed with him.
— Si, he said.
— My twist, said Jimmy Sr.
He wanted to get up. Halfway through talking there he’d felt dirty; kind of. And then stupid. Talking about young ones like that, very young ones. But when Bertie joined in it was safe. Darren was doing lounge boy tonight though. If he heard—
He stood up.
— Same again over here, Darren, please!
— Wha’?
— Leo knows. Just tell him the same again.
It was getting crowded. Leo was skidding up and down behind the bar.
— So annyway, Bimbo, said Bertie when Jimmy Sr was sitting back down. — Compadre mio, that’s wha’ I’d do if I was you.
— How though? said Paddy.
— Wha’?
— How would yeh do it?
— The same way I’ve always done it.
— No, I don’t mean the ridin‘, Paddy explained. — I mean gettin’ her to do it. How would yeh manage tha’?
— No great problem there, compadre, said Bertie. — I’d show her the money an’ tell her I’ll give her some of it if she’ll say hello to the baldy fella; there’d be nothin’ to it.
— Ah fuck off, said Jimmy Sr.
— Wha’? said Bertie.
— Yeh can’t just do tha’.
— Why not?
— Cos the girl’s not a fuckin’ prostitute, that’s why not.
— No, Bimbo agreed.
— Listen, compadre, said Bertie. — All women are prostitutes.
— Ah now—, said Bimbo.
— Will yeh listen to him, said Jimmy Sr.
— He’s righ‘, said Paddy. — I had to buy my one a Crunchie before she’d let me ou’ tonigh’.
Bertie addressed Bimbo.
— Don’t misunderstand me, compadre, he said. — Not just women. All men are brassers as well.
— I’m no brasser, chum, said Jimmy Sr.
— Fuck up a minute, said Bertie. — Wha’ I’m sayin’ is, is tha’ everyone has his price.
— Ah, is that all? said Bimbo.
— If you think—, said Jimmy Sr.
He was talking to Bertie.
— If you think tha’ you can just walk into the shop an’ put the money on the counter there an’ Mandy will drop her—
— Watch it, Jimmy, here’s Darren.
— Here’s the cavalry, lads, said Bertie.
— Make room there, will yis, said Darren.
— Certainly, certainly.
They got all the dead glasses and put them on the table behind them, so Darren could put the tray on their table.
— D’yeh know Mandy from the Gem, Darren? said Bertie.
Jimmy Sr tried to kick him but he got Bimbo instead, but not hard.
— Yeh, said Darren. — Mandy Lawless.
— Nice, isn’t she?
— She’s alrigh’, yeah.
— Keep the change, Darren, said Jimmy Sr. — Good man. Darren took the money and counted it.
— You’re a pound short, he told Jimmy Sr.
— Is tha’ right’? said Jimmy Sr.
He’d never get rid of him before Bertie opened his mouth again. He gave Darren a fiver.
— Yeh can pay me back later, he told him.
— No, said Darren. — I have it here.
Ah sufferin’ Jesus!
But Bertie said nothing, and Paddy didn’t either. He was looking around him, looking for something to moan about.
— There y’are, said Darren.
Jimmy Sr took the notes and left the silver and copper in Darren’s hand.
— Good man.
— Thanks very much, Da.
— No problem.
— I’ll tell yis though, said Jimmy Sr when Darren was gone. — Yis should see his mot. Darren’s mot.