— Yes, said Veronica.
— Get little cards done, said Jimmy Sr. — With his name on them.
— Yes, said Veronica. — That sort of thing.
— Leslie Rabbitte, lawn-mower doctor.
— Ha ha.
— He won’t get much business round here. Everyone gets a lend o’ Bimbo’s.
— He can go further.
— That’s true. — It’ll get him up with the rest of us annyway. An’ a few bob. ANCO pays them.
— Yes.
— The EEC, Jimmy Sr explained. — They give the money to ANCO.
— An’ who gives the money to the EEC? Veronica asked.
— Em, said Jimmy Sr. — I’ve a feelin’ we do.
— There now, said Veronica.
Jimmy Sr stayed quiet for a while. He switched back to the baseball.
— Look at tha’ now, he said. — Your man there swingin’ the bat. You’d swear somethin’ great was goin’ to happen, but look it.
He switched through all nine channels, back to the baseball.
— There. He hasn’t budged. It’s fuckin’ useless. What’s tha’ you’re knittin’?
— A jumper.
— I don’t like purple.
— It’s not purple and you won’t be wearing it.
— Who will?
— Me.
— Good. ’Bout time yeh made somethin’ for yourself. You have us spoilt.
— And then you never wear them.
— I do so. What’s this I have on?
— That’s a Dunnes one.
— It is in its hole.
— Can I buy the paper then?
It was Jimmy Jr.
— No!
Veronica picked the paper off the floor.
— Here.
Jimmy Jr grabbed it.
— Thanks, Ma.
And he was gone.
Veronica turned to Jimmy Sr.
— Do you think I stitch St Bernard tags and washing instructions on the jumpers when I’ve finished knitting them?
— No, Veronica. I don’t think that at—
Veronica grabbed the tag that was sticking up at the back of Jimmy Sr’s jumper.
— What’s that? she said.
— Take it easy! said Jimmy Sr. — You’re fuckin’ stranglin’ me.
Linda and Tracy ran in.
— Get tha’ dog out o’ here, Jimmy Sr roared.
— Ah!—
— Get him ou’!
He pressed the orange button and the telly popped off.
— Yeh can always tell when it’s comin’ up to the summer, he said. — There’s nothin’ on the telly.
— There’s never anything.
— That’s true o’ course. But in the summer there’s absolutely nothin’.
He was restless now and it wasn’t even half-seven yet. He said it before he knew he was going to.
— I suppose a ride’s ou’ of the question.
— Hang on till I get this line done, said Veronica.
— Are yeh serious?
— I suppose so.
— Fuckin’ great, said Jimmy Sr. — It’s not even dark yet. You’re not messin’ now?
— No. Just let me finish this.
Jimmy Sr stood up.
— I’ll brush me teeth, he said.
— That’ll be nice, said Veronica.
* * *
— It doesn’t really show yet, said Jackie.
— It does! said Sharon. — Look.
Sharon showed Jackie her side.
Jackie was sitting on Linda and Tracy’s bed while Sharon got out of her work clothes.
— Oh yeah, said Jackie. — You’d want to be lookin’ though.
— Everyone’s lookin’, Jackie.
They laughed.
Sharon went over to Jackie.
— Put your hand on it.
Jackie did, very carefully.
— Press.
— Fuck off, Sharon, will yeh.
— Go on.
Jackie pressed gently.
— God, it’s harder than I thought, she said. — Oh Jesus, somethin’s movin’!
She took her hand away. Sharon giggled. Jackie put her hand back.
— It’s funny, she said.
Then she took her hand down.
— Thanks, Sharon, she said.
Sharon laughed.
— I won’t show yeh the state of me nipples, she said.
— Aah Jesus, Sharon!
— Ah, they’re not tha’ bad, said Sharon. — They’re just a funny colour, kind of. I can’t wear these jeans annymore, look.
— Why not? — Oh yeah. Yeh fat bitch yeh.
— These are grand though. Where’ll we go?
— Howth?
— Yeah. Get pissed, wha’.
— Yeah.
* * *
— Jaysis, Sharon, said Jimmy Sr as he moved over on the couch to make room for her. — You’ll soon be the same shape as me, wha’.
* * *
— Sharon, let’s touch the baby. — No!
— Aah!
— Alrigh’. Quick but. Daddy’s waitin’ on me.
* * *
— There’s an awful smell o’ feet in here, said Jimmy Sr. — It’s fuckin’ terrible.
— It’s the dog, said Jimmy Jr.
— He’s wearin’ shoes an’ socks now, is he? said Jimmy Sr. — Where is he?
— Ou’ the back, said Darren.
Jimmy Sr, Jimmy Jr and Darren were in the front room, watching the tennis.
— It can’t be him so, said Jimmy Sr. — An’ it’s not me.
— Don’t look at me, said Jimmy Jr.
They both looked at Darren. He was stretched out on the floor. Jimmy Sr tapped one of his ankles.
— Get up there an’ change your socks an’ wash your feet as well. Yeh smelly bastard yeh.
— Ah Da, the cyclin’s on in a minute.
— I amn’t askin’ yeh to amputate your feet, said Jimmy Sr. — I only want yeh to change your fuckin’ socks.
— But the—
— Getou’!
— Come here, said Jimmy Jr as Darren was leaving the room. — Don’t go near my socks, righ’.
— I wouldn’t touch your poxy socks.
— Yeh’d better not.
— It’s those fuckin’ runners he wears, said Jimmy Sr.
— Yeah, said Jimmy Jr.
— His feet can’t breathe in them.
— Yeah.
— Who’s your one?
— Gabriella Sabatini.
— Jaysis, wha’.
— She’s only seventeen.
— Fuck off. — Are yeh serious?
— Yeah.
— Is she winnin’, is she?
— Yeah.
— Good.
* * *
— Jesus, I wouldn’t like tha’, said Yvonne. — Some dirty oul’ bastard with a rubber glove.
— It was a woman, said Sharon.
— Yeah?
— Yeah. She was very nice. Doctor Murray. She was real young as well. It took bleedin’ ages though.
— How long abou’? Mary asked her.
— Ages. Hours. Most of it was waitin’ though. All fuckin’ mornin’, I’m not jokin’ yeh. She said it was because of the cut-backs. She kept sayin’ it. She said I should write to me TD.
— The stupid bitch, said Jackie.
They laughed.
— Ah, she was nice, said Sharon. — Come here though. I nearly died, listen. She said she wanted to know me menstrual history an’ I didn’t know what she talkin’ abou’ till she told me. I felt like a right fuckin’ eejit. I knew what it meant, like, but I was—
— Why didn’t she just say your periods? said Yvonne.
— Doctors are always like tha’, said Mary.
— Menstrual history, said Jackie. — I got a C in that in me Inter.
They roared.
* * *