His nails usen’t to be like this.
He tried to pull the fuckin’ shoe off. His neck was getting sorer. He shut his eyes.
— Is that you?
Now he’d woken Veronica.
— Can’t get me fuckin’ poxy shoe off.
But it was good that she’d woken up. He slumped, then stretched and rubbed his neck.
— Sorry, he said.
— How was it?
— Grand.
— How are all the lads?
She always said Lads like they were kids, like he went out to play with them.
— Grand, he said. — Bimbo was askin’ for yeh.
— And what did you tell him?
— Eh—
That was a hard one.
— I said yeh were fine, said Jimmy Sr.
— Did you cross your fingers when you said it?
— Ah, Veronica.
— Ah, Jimmy.
It was alright; she wasn’t getting at him.
— I’ll have to get into bed with the fuckin’ shoe on; look.
Veronica sat up and turned on the lamp beside her.
— What’s wrong? she said.
— Me shoe; look it.
She looked.
— Can you not tie your laces properly yet?
And she put his foot in her lap and got going on the knot. He nearly fell off the bed turning for her.
— You’re useless, she said. — You really are.
For a split second he was going to straighten his leg quick and put his foot in her stomach, the way she spoke to him like that; for a split second only. Not really.
— There.
She had it done already.
It was nice as well sometimes, being mothered by Veronica.
— Thanks very much, he said.
He got up with the rest of them in the mornings, even though he didn’t have to; got dressed and all. Only Darren and the twins had to get out of the house early these days, and not that early because the school was only up the road, but it was still mad in the kitchen. He liked it though. He knew chaps that wouldn’t bother their arses getting up, and wives as well who stayed in bed and let their kids get themselves off to school. He wasn’t like that.
First thing, after he had a piss, he sneaked into Sharon’s room and took Gina out of her cot. She’d be waiting for him. It was thick, but he held his breath when he was opening the door until he saw that she was still alive. Every morning; he couldn’t help it. She grabbed his neck and the two of them sneaked back out of the room because they knew that they weren’t to wake Sharon.
Then they’d hit the twins’ room. Veronica stuck her head in and roared at them on her way down to the kitchen and his and Gina’s job was to follow Veronica and make sure that they were getting up.
— Yis up, girls?
It was a stupid question because they never were. He’d put Gina down on the bed and she jumped on them and that made them stop pretending that they were still asleep. It was like having a bag of spuds hopping on you. Once, Gina’s nappy had burst, and that had got them up quick. When he heard Linda or Tracy telling Gina to stop he got out of the room because they didn’t like him to be there when they got out from under the blankets.
He went downstairs by himself. He looked into the front room to see that Darren was up. He didn’t look in really; he just knocked. Darren had been sleeping in the front room since they’d decided that Sharon needed a room of her own, for Gina. It was terrible; there were two less in the house — Jimmy Jr and Leslie — and still poor Darren had to sleep on the couch. They’d been going to build an extension in the back; he kept meaning to find out if the Corporation would do it.
This morning Darren was coming out when Jimmy Sr got to the door.
— Howyeh, Darren.
— Howyeh.
— Y‘alrigh’?
— Yeah.
— Good. Did yeh tidy up the blankets an’ stuff yet?
— Yeah.
— Good man.
He got out of Darren’s way and let him go into the kitchen first. Next he unlocked the back door and let Larrygogan in. The fuckin’ hound had a hole bored through the door nearly, from scraping at it every morning to get in, and whining. But Veronica never let him in; she didn’t seem to hear him. Jimmy Sr had watched her sometimes when the dog was crying and whining outside — it was fuckin’ terrible, like a baby being tortured or something — but Veronica didn’t notice it; he’d watched her.
When he opened the door the dog was all over him, hopping around him; thanking him, Jimmy Sr sometimes thought. The dog was no thick. He could nearly talk, the noises he made sometimes when he wanted a biscuit or a chip. He didn’t just growl; he had different growls that he used, depending on how badly he wanted something, and whimpers and other stuff as well. And sometimes he just looked at you — just looked — and you couldn’t help thinking of one of those starving kids in Africa. He was a great oul’ dog, Larrygogan was.
— Ah Christ!
His fuckin’ paws were wet, and dirty. He jumped at Jimmy Sr again. Jimmy Sr grabbed the dog’s legs just before they landed on his trousers.
— Get his towel, Darren, will yeh.
— Okay, said Darren.
Jimmy Sr looked out the open door while Darren was getting him the dog’s towel from under the sink. It was pissing out there, and cold. Not real wintery cold, but the stuff that got inside you and made every room in the house seem miserable, except the kitchen when it was full. The poor dog was wringing, like a drowned rat; half his normal size because his hair was all stuck to him. He barked. Then he shook himself. His back paws started slipping on the lino, so Jimmy Sr let go of his legs.
— Here.
Darren threw the towel to Jimmy Sr.
— Good man, said Jimmy Sr.
He opened the towel — it was manky but dry — and got ready to dry the dog’s back, and this was the bit the dog loved. Jimmy Sr dropped the towel and missed Larrygogan by a mile because Larry was in under the kitchen table, sliding and barking.
— Come ou’ till I dry yeh.
Larrygogan put his chin on the floor and barked at Jimmy Sr.
Jimmy Sr always thought that that bark, the real cheeky one, sounded like Get fucked. And the way his ears jumped up when he said it — not said it, not really; just barked — but he looked like he was saying it, giving cheek to Jimmy Sr, his master. It was gas.
— Come on ou’ here, yeh renegade, yeh.
The dog barked again.
— Here, Darren; go round there an’ shove him ou’ to me. Jimmy Sr stared at Larrygogan.
— You’re fucked now, he said.
— Stop that, said Veronica.
— Sorry, Veronica, he said.
He loved this.
Darren was at the other side of the table. He got down on his knees and stretched in under the table and pushed Larrygogan — Larrygogan was chin down, arse up — but Larrygogan pushed back against Darren’s open hands. The dog’s paws slid a bit but he stayed put, and Darren had to climb in under the table. He was bursting his shite laughing now, and so was Jimmy Sr.
— Mind he doesn’t fart on yeh, he told Darren.
— Oh Jaysis, said Darren, and he couldn’t push properly any more because he was laughing so much.
Larrygogan was winning.
— Ah, leave him, said Jimmy Sr.
He stood up.
— Let him catch his death. He deserves to die, the fuckin’ eejit of a dog.
Darren got out and up from under the table. They grinned at each other but then Darren sat down and started reading his book. Jimmy Sr shut the door. Larrygogan charged out to the hall.
He still had a good breakfast these days, the fry and loads of toast and a bowl of Cornflakes as well sometimes if he still felt a bit empty. They used to have Sugar Puffs and the rest of them; every time there was a new ad on the telly the twins had to have a box of the new things. But they only had the Cornflakes now. They were the best. Tea as well, loads of it. He only had coffee later on in the day, and sometimes he didn’t bother. He didn’t need it. Tea though, he loved his cup of tea; twenty bleedin’ cups.