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
That was what they said, on nice blue paper.
— Four-course meals? said Jimmy Sr when she was telling them about it. — How’ll we fuckin’manage tha’?
— Easy, said Maggie.
She’d stick the melon into the fridge in the afternoon so it would be still nice and cold when Bimbo and Jimmy Sr delivered it. They’d use a flask if it was soup; just pour it into the bowls and get it into the houses and onto the tables while there was still steam coming up off it. The main course was no bother because that was what they made all the time anyway.
— What abou’ the sweet but? said Jimmy Sr. — The ice-cream’ ll be water by the time they’ve got through their main stuff.
He wasn’t against the idea; he just saw problems with it.
— Well, said Maggie. — You could keep chunks of ice-cream in a flask as well—
— Wha’; with the soup?
— There’s bound to be a mix-up, said Bimbo. — Somewhere along the line.
What they decided on was, one of them would do a legger back to Bimbo’s while the customers were laying into the main course and get the ice-cream out of the fridge and hoof it back. That was Darren’s job. He didn’t mind; he got an almighty slagging from the lads when they saw him running across the Green with a bowl of jelly and ice-cream in each hand but it was better than having to go into the house and serving the customers, like a bleedin’ waiter. That was Bimbo’s job.
Jimmy Sr shook the flask over the bowl and the last bits of potato slid out and dropped into the soup.
— There now—
There was nothing like a few big chunks of vegetable to make packet soup look like the real thing.
— That’s great lookin’ soup, said Jimmy Sr. — Wha’.
— Lovely, said Bimbo.
— It’s wasted on those fuckers.
— Ah now, said Bimbo.
They were feeding the O’Rourkes tonight, Larry and Mona; their twenty-third wedding anniversary.
— We should make them cough up before we hand over the grub, said Jimmy Sr. — Fuckin’ Larry wouldn’t give yeh the steam off his piss if you were dyin’ o’ dehydration.
He took two small pieces of parsley from the bag Maggie’d given him, aimed and dropped one onto the soup in each bowl.
— Nice touch, tha’, he said.
Bimbo got into his jacket.
— How’s the back, Darren? he asked.
Darren rubbed down Bimbo’s back, getting rid of the creases.
Bimbo put the tea-towel over his arm.
The jacket Maggie’d got Bimbo was the stupidest thing Jimmy Sr’d ever seen. He felt humiliated just looking at Bimbo in it. It was white, with goldy buttons, and the sleeves were too long. But it didn’t bother Bimbo; he thought he was Lord fuckin’ Muck in it — the man in charge.
— Away we go so, said Bimbo.
He checked his watch again.
— Yeah, he said. — They were told to have the table set for half-seven.
He picked up the bowls, using the cuffs to mind his fingers.
— Ring the bell for me, Darren.
— Okay.
— Good lad. Bring the candles as well, will yeh.
— Ah fuck—
— Go on, Darren, said Jimmy Sr. — You’re alrigh’; they’re vegetarian candles.
— Humour, said Darren.
Bimbo climbed carefully out of the van.
— Get back quick with the main order, Jimmy Sr said after them.
— Will do.
The chips were a definite so Jimmy Sr lowered the basket into the fryer. Larry and Mona wouldn’t be long getting rid of the soup. Mind you, they mightn’t know what it was. They put water on their cornflakes in that house; so everyone said, anyway.
Bimbo and Darren were back.
— How’d it go?
— It was embarrassin’, said Darren.
— How was it? Jimmy Sr asked him.
— He started singin’.
— He’s always singin’.
Bimbo took over.
— The minute he saw the candles he started singing to Mona. Tha’ one, I Can’t Help Fallin’ In Love With You.
— Wha? — WISE MEN SAY — ONLY FOO-ILS RUSH IN — Tha’ one?
— Yeah.
— Jaysis. He’s gettin’ worse. Did they like the soup?
— Stop it, said Bimbo. — Their spoons were clackin’ off the bowls. He was singin’ an’ drinkin’ at the same time.
— They didn’t think much o’ the parsley though, Darren told his da.
— Now there’s a surprise, said Jimmy Sr.
— He said if he’d wanted weeds in his dinner he‘d’ve gone ou’ the back an’ got some of his own.
— Tha’ sort o’ thing is wasted on shite-bags like them, said Jimmy Sr.
Back to business.
— What’s the main course?
— Smoked cod for Larry an’ the same for Mona, said Bimbo. — An’ they both want a few pineapple fritters as well.