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Sharon groaned.

The dirty bastard.

* * *

Les was nearly crying. So was Veronica.

— Shut up! The lot o’ yis! said Jimmy Sr.

— You started it, Jimmy Jr reminded him.

— Good Jesus!!

— I’m goin’ to smash your fuckin’ records, Les told Jimmy Jr.

This time Veronica slapped him hard across the head.

— Wha’!?

— Don’t Wha’ me, said Veronica, and she slapped him again. — Don’t think you can stroll in and out of here when you feel like it and shout language like a — like a knacker.

She drew her hand back, Les ducked, and then she slapped him.

Linda and Tracy were giggling.

— Don’t start, youse! Jimmy Sr roared at them.

— You never hit THEM, do yeh? said Les.

He was crying now.

— I’m not takin’ this.

He slammed the back door.

Jimmy Sr was going after him.

— Leave him out there, said Veronica. — It’s going to rain in a minute. That’ll bring him back.

Jimmy Sr couldn’t leave it just like that. He’d lost, in front of Darren, the twins, Sharon — them all. He was the head of the fuckin’ house!

— Come here, you, he said to Jimmy Jr. — If you ever behave like that again in this house yeh can pack your belongin’s. Your groovy clothes an’ your shampoo an’—an’ your bras an’ yeh can fuck off to somewhere else, righ’. Is tha’ clear?

— I don’t know, said Jimmy Jr. — I’ll have to discuss it with my solicitor.

A laugh burst out of Darren. He’d have loved the neck to say something like that.

— Don’t YOU start!

Darren stopped.

And Jimmy Sr felt a bit better.

— Now, he said. — Sharon has a bit o’ news for yis.

Veronica started laughing.

— Sorry, she said. — I can’t help it.

— Darren, said Jimmy Sr. — We live in a mental home.

Darren laughed.

— Sorry, Sharon, said Veronica. — Go on, love. Sharon grinned at Veronica. She looked at the twins when she spoke. — I’m goin’ to be havin’ a baby.

* * *

Jimmy Sr and Veronica were alone in the kitchen. Jimmy Sr was having the cup of tea he always had before he went out.

— These yokes aren’t as nice as they used to be, said Jimmy Sr. — Sure they’re not?

He put the rest of the Jaffa Cake on the table.

— That doesn’t stop you eating them.

— I didn’t say they weren’t nice, Veronica. Wha’ I said was—

— Right. Right. I agree with you.

— Are yeh tired, Veronica?

— Mm, said Veronica.

— Will yeh go on up to the bed?

— Mm.

— That’s the place to be. — It went well, didn’t it?

— I suppose it did, said Veronica.

— They took it very well, I thought.

— Ah Jimmy, for Christ’s sake. What did you expect? Did you think the girls would be outraged or something?

— No.

He grinned at her.

— I didn’t think they’d go tha’ wild. Poor Sharon won’t have any peace now. Inside—

He nodded at the door.

— watchin’ the telly there, Sharon yawned an’ Tracy asked her was she havin’ the baby. — Tha’ Jimmy fella’s a righ’ pup though. He said somethin’ to Sharon, yeh know, cos I saw her hittin’ him. She gave him a righ’ wallop.

— They get on very well, those two.

— I don’t know, said Jimmy Sr.

He sighed.

— You were exactly like him, said Veronica.

— Veronica, please. It’s been a rough day. Now, lay off.

— Remember that Crombie you had?

— No.

— You do so. You used to keep it spotless. Except for your dandruff.

— I didn’t have dandruff!

— Excuse me, you did so. My Uncle Bob used to say that we needed a Saint Bernard dog to find everyone after you’d been in the house.

Jimmy Sr laughed.

— He was an oul’ bollix, tha’ fella. A right oul’ bollix. I bought tha’ fucker a brandy at the weddin’, I did.

— Annyway, we didn’t have those special shampoos.

Timotei. So mild you can wash your hair as often as yeh like! As if yeh didn’t have better things to be doin’ than washin’ your fuckin’ hair all day. As often as yeh like!

— What happened that coat?

— I don’t know! I threw it ou’.

— You did not. After you bought it you stopped trying to get me to go into the fields with you. It was the best contraceptive ever invented, that coat.

— Veronica!

— That’s what they should give every young lad these days. A nice new coat.

Jimmy Sr laughed.

They said nothing for a while. Then Veronica spoke.

— Jimmy.

— Yes, Veronica?

— Do you not think—?—You’ll probably shout at me for saying it. — I think we should tell the twins that what Sharon did was wrong.

— Wha’?

— No, listen. I don’t want to turn them against her or anything—

— An’ the baby, remember.

— Yes, I know that. But—

— Wha’?

— I think we should tell them. Without, you know. We should tell them that they should only have babies when they’re married.

— They wouldn’t understand wha’ you were on abou’.

— Oh they would, you know.

— Maybe they would. — It’s a bit young but, isn’t it?

Wha’ were yeh thinkin’ o’ tellin’ them?

He was flicking fluff and specks off his jumper. That meant he was on his way out.

— Do you not think we should? Veronica asked him.

— Well, whatever you think yourself, Veronica, said Jimmy Sr. — They’d only laugh at me. I’m only their da. Anyway, it’d sound better comin’ from a woman, wouldn’t it? — Maybe leave it till they’re a bit older.

— But by then—

She couldn’t finish. There was no tidy way of saying what she thought. She gave up. Maybe she’d talk to Sharon about it.

Jimmy Sr was standing up, ready to go. But he didn’t want to leave Veronica unhappy.

— Times’ve changed, Veronica, he said.

— I suppose so, said Veronica. — But do we have to keep up with them?

Jimmy Sr didn’t like questions like that.

— D’yeh want to come? he asked Veronica.

— Ah no.

— Up to the bed?

— Mm; yeah.

— That’s the place. See yeh later.

— Bring your Crombie. It might rain. — Ha fuckin’ ha.

* * *

— How much did it cost yeh, Jackie? Yvonne asked.

She dipped two wetted fingers into her crisp bag and dredged it for crumbs.

— Fifteen pound, ninety-nine, said Jackie.

— Really? said Yvonne. — That’s brilliant, isn’t it?

— Is it hand wash, Jackie? said Mary.

— Yeah, it is.

— It’s very nice now.

— Thanks.

Yvonne wiped her fingers on the stool beside her.

Sharon saw this as she walked over to join them so she parked herself on the stool opposite Yvonne.

— Hiyis, she said.

— Hiyeh, Sharon.

— Ah howyeh, Sharon.

— Hiyis, said Sharon.

— Are they new, Sharon?

— No, not really.

A lounge boy was passing. Sharon stopped him.

— A vodka an’ a Coke, please, she said.

— Don’t bother abou’ the Coke, Sharon, said Jackie. — I’ve loads here, look it.

— Okay. Thanks, Jackie. A vodka just, she told the lounge boy.