— 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 said.
— 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.