Jimmy knew her.
— Imelda?
She looked at him.
— Jimmy Rabbitte! For fuck sake!
She laughed and stood and opened her arms and he marched in there between them and felt her hands slide across his back. He was late with his own hands, getting them to move. She kissed his cheek, about half an inch from his lips. Then she stepped back, nearly into the table behind her. She laughed again.
— Let’s see yeh.
She smiled at him.
— You’re lookin’ well, Jimmy.
— So are you, he said.
— Ah well.
She was looking well. She might have been a bit pissed — Jimmy wasn’t sure — and a few kilos heavier, but Imelda Quirk would never not look well.
His da was at the door.
— Yeh righ’? he shouted.
— Just a minute, Jimmy shouted back.
— Yeh goin’ somewhere? said Imelda.
— Yeah, said Jimmy. — Yeah. Home to my wife, to tell her I have cancer. ’Fraid so.
— Typical Jimmy, said Imelda. — Always runnin’.
He didn’t know what to say — he hadn’t a clue.
— Get out your phone, she said.
— Wha’?
He could feel his da looking at him. But he looked across to the door and his da wasn’t there.
— Your phone, Jimmy, said Imelda. — Not your mickey.
He laughed. He wasn’t blushing, and that made him ridiculously happy. He took his mobile from his pocket.
— Ready? she said.
— You’re givin’ me your number.
— You’re still a fuckin’ genius.
He laughed again. She recited the number, quickly.
— Get tha’?
— No bother, he said.
He saved the number.
— Phone me, she said. — When you want to.
— Will do, he said. — Great seein’ yeh. It must be twenty years.
— Don’t fuckin’ start, she said — she smiled. — I was still in primary school twenty years ago. Is that understood?
— Loud an’ clear, said Jimmy. — I’m gone. I’ll phone yeh.
He probably wouldn’t. He had cancer, kids, a wife he loved.
— Grand, she said.
She was sitting down again. There’d be no kiss goodbye, no hug.
— Tomorrow maybe, he said as he left.
— It’s up to you, Jimmy.
His da was leaning against Jimmy’s car and the alarm was going. He’d heard it inside when he was talking to Imelda. Now though, it was loud — and his. He pointed the key and clicked. It stopped.
— Did yeh fuckin’ jump on it?
— No, said his da. — It went off the minute I fuckin’ looked at it. I was only walkin’ over.
— Anyway, said Jimmy. — I’m gone.
— Grand, said his da.
— To face the music.
— It must feel like tha’, does it?
— A bit, said Jimmy. — But look it. Thanks.
— You’re grand, said Jimmy Sr.
He rubbed his hand across his mouth.
— It hasn’t sunk in, he said.
— I know.
— I’ll say nothin’ at home.
— No. Thanks.
— Well —
Jimmy’s da put his hand out, high. He touched Jimmy’s neck.
— Fuckin’ hell, son.
— I know.
— Go on.
— I’m goin’.
— Phone me, said Jimmy Sr. — Any time, righ’?
— Yeah, said Jimmy. — Thanks.
He opened his door.
— D’you want a lift?
— No. You’re grand. I’ll walk.
— Righ’. Good luck.
Jimmy got into the car. It was warm. There’d been heat in the sun, although it was getting dark now. He waited till his da was walking away before he shut the car door.
He filled the dishwasher. He took a white wash out to the line and hung the clothes in the dark. He kept an eye on the kitchen window while he did it, to see if Aoife was alone in there. She wasn’t. He watched her, angry and gorgeous, giving out shite to Mahalia. He came back in — she was gone. He made tea. He didn’t drink it. He emptied the dishwasher. She came in, followed by Brian, then Mahalia.
He tapped Brian on the shoulder.
— Come here. You as well, May.
He brought them in to the telly. He pointed at it.
— That’s a television.
Brian laughed.
— Now, said Jimmy. — You sit in front of it. That’s right, good man. Perfect.
He held up the remote.
— Have yeh seen one of these before?
— Yep, said Brian.
— Good man again, said Jimmy. — You can watch it for half an hour, okay?
— I already had my half-hour, said Brian.
— You’re too honest, Smoke, said Jimmy. — I told yeh. Be a bit sneaky.
— Sneaky.
— That’s right, said Jimmy. — Have you had your telly today yet, Smokey?
— No!
— Have you not? Well, here yeh go.
Jimmy lobbed the remote at him, and Smokey — that was Brian — caught it.
— I don’t want to watch telly, said Mahalia.
Jimmy kept forgetting she was thirteen — although she looked it. He’d never get used to it. His oldest child, Marvin, was a seventeen-year-old man. The youngest, Brian, was too big to be picked up.
— Just do me a favour, May, said Jimmy. — Stay here for a bit. I need to talk to your mother.
— Begging forgiveness, are we? said Mahalia.
— Somethin’ like that, he said.
— Good luck with that, she said.
— Is that eye shadow you’re wearin’?
— Did you just ask me to do you a favour, Dad?
— I did, yeah.
— The eye shadow is my business then, said Mahalia.
— You don’t need it, yeh know.
— That’s not an argument.
— I love you.
— So you should.
He left them there. Brian wouldn’t budge and Mahalia loved being involved in the messy, stupid world of the adults, even if involvement meant staying out of the kitchen for half an hour.
But Aoife was gone. There was a kid with his head in the fridge and he wasn’t one of Jimmy’s.
— Who are you?
The kid stood up and, fair play to him, he blushed.
— I’m hungry, he said.
— Good man, Hungry, said Jimmy. — But what’re you doin’ pullin’ the door off my fridge?
The kid looked confused, his red got redder. Jimmy felt like a bollix.
— Jimmer said you wouldn’t mind. Or Missis — your wife, like. Are you Mister Rabbitte?
— Yeah.
— Jimmer said she — Missis Rabbitte, like — wouldn’t mind if I, like, got something to eat.
Jimmer was young Jimmy, another of Jimmy’s sons.
The kid’s face had gone past red; he was turning black in front of Jimmy. He was holding a chicken leg.
— Will I put it back?
He was an old-fashioned young fella.
— Did you eat any of it? said Jimmy.
— Kind of, said the kid.
He looked at the leg.
— Yeah.
— You’d better eat the rest of it so, said Jimmy.
— Thanks.
— Where’s Jimmy?
— Your son, like?
— Yeah.
— Upstairs.
— Grand.
— We’re doin’ a project, said the kid.
— What’s your name?
— Garth.
— What?
— Garth.
— And what’s the project about, Garth?
— Supertramp.
— Wha’?
— The group, like.
— You mean, the group tha’ were shite back in the ’70s twenty years before you were born and are probably even shiter now?