— Wha’ is it?
— It’s your birthd’y present, Jimmy Sr told him.
— It’s not a bike.
— I know tha’, said Jimmy Sr.
— What is it?
— Open it an’ see, son.
Darren did.
— It’s a pump.
— That’s righ’, said Jimmy Sr. — It’s a good one too.
Darren didn’t understand. He looked at his da’s face.
— I’ll get yeh a wheel for your Christmas, said Jimmy Sr. — An’ the other one for your next birthd’y. An’ then the saddle. An’ before yeh know it you’ll have your bike. How’s tha’?
Darren looked at the pump, then at his da. His da was smiling but it wasn’t a joking smile. He looked at his ma. She had her back to him, at the sink. Now he understood. He understood now: he’d just been given a poxy pump for his birthday. And he was going to be getting bits of bike for the rest of his life and — But the twins were giggling. And now so was Sharon.
His brother, Jimmy, stood up and was putting on his jacket.
— Yeh can pump yourself to school every mornin’ now, he said.
— Yis are messin’, said Darren.
He laughed. He knew it. He had a bike. He knew it.
— Yis are messin’!
Jimmy Sr laughed.
— We are o’ course.
He opened the back door and went out, and came back in with a bike, a big old black grocer’s delivery bike with a frame over the front wheel but no basket in it.
— Get up on tha’ now an’ we’ll see how it fits, said Jimmy Sr.
— Wha’? said Darren.
His mouth was wide open. Veronica was laughing now.
— It’s a Stephen Roche special, said Jimmy Sr.
Darren was still staring at the bike. Then he noticed the others laughing.
He looked around at them.
— Yis are messin’.
He laughed, louder now than before.
— Yis are still messin’.
— We are o’ course, said Jimmy Sr.
He patted the saddle.
— This is Bimbo’s.
He wheeled it out, and wheeled in the real present. Larrygogan followed it in.
— Ah rapid! Da — Ma—.Thanks. Rapid. Ah deadly.
He held the bike carefully.
— A Raleigh! Deadly. — Ten gears! Great. Muggah’s only got five.
Jimmy Sr laughed.
— Only the best, he said.
— Raleighs aren’t the best, Darren told him. — Peugeots and Widersprints are.
He was looking at his new bike and adoring it; its thinness, neatness, shininess, the colour, the pedals with the straps on them and, most of all, the handlebars.
— Yeh ungrateful little bollix, said Jimmy Sr. — Give us tha’ back.
He grabbed the bike and pushed Darren away from it.
Darren was lost. He didn’t know what he’d done. He didn’t know. His eyes filled. He just stood there.
Jimmy Sr pushed the bike back to him.
— There.
— Thanks, Da. Thanks, Ma.
— Mammy.
— Mammy. It’s brilliant.
He wolfed his breakfast, then cycled across the road to school.
* * *
It was about six o’clock the same day, Jimmy Sr, washed and ready, sat down at the kitchen table. But the dinner wasn’t ready.
— How come? he wanted to know.
— I started on the girls’ dresses, said Veronica.
— Wha’ dresses?
— Ballroom.
— Jaysis.
— Stop that. — Anyway, I forgot the time.
Jimmy Sr was in good form.
— Ah well, he said. — Not to worry. I’ll have a slice o’ bread. That’ll keep me goin’.
He didn’t bother with the marge.
— How — are yeh today, Veronica? he asked.
— Okay. Grand. I’m tired now though.
— Cummins said he might have somethin’ for Leslie in a few weeks.
— I’ll believe it when I see it, said Veronica.
— I suppose so, said Jimmy Sr. — He said he’ll ask round an’ see if anny of his pals have annythin’ for him. Yeh know, the golf an’ church collection shower.
— You wouldn’t want to be relying on them.
— True.
He began to demolish another couple of slices.
— Still — what else can we do? — I had five fuckin’ jobs to choose from when I got thrun out o’ school. Where is he?
— Who?
— Leslie.
— I don’t know. Out.
— I haven’t seen him in ages. Weeks — Yeah, weeks. Wha’ does he look like?
Veronica laughed.
— He’s not hangin’ round the house annyway, said Jimmy Sr. — Gettin’ under your feet.
— No.
— That’s somethin’. But he should have his breakfasts an’ his dinners with the rest of us. The family tha’ eats together — How does it go?
Veronica was prodding the potatoes.
Darren came in, on his way out. He was wearing a Carrera cycling jersey Jimmy Jr had just given him. It nearly reached his knees. He was trying to rub the creases out of it. When he looked down the zip touched his nose.
— That’s a great yoke, Darren, Jimmy Sr told him — It’ll fit yeh properly in a couple o’ months, wha’.
— It’ll be too small, said Veronica, — the way he’s growing. Where d’you think you’re going to?
— Ou’, said Darren.
— Not till after your tea you’re not, said Veronica.
— Ah Ma. Round the block only?
— Let him go, said Jimmy Sr. — He wants to show off his jersey to the young ones.
Darren was out the door.
Jimmy Jr came into the kitchen.
— Was tha’ jersey yoke dear? Jimmy Sr asked him.
Jimmy Jr tapped the side of his nose with a finger, and winked. Jimmy Sr raised his eyebrows. He looked at Veronica. She was turning the chops.
— Did no one actually buy the poor fucker a present? he whispered.
Jimmy Jr grinned, and went upstairs to change.
Sharon came in from work.
— There’s Sharon, said Jimmy Sr. — How are yeh, Sharon?
— Grand.
— Good. That’s the way to be. Your face is nice an’ pink.
— Thanks very much!
— Very healthy lookin’. Is he kickin’?
— He’s doin’ cartwheels.
— We’ll have to get him a bike like Darren’s so.
Sharon sat down.
— That’s righ’, Sharon, said Jimmy Sr. — Sit down.
The twins were in the hall.
They heard Linda.
— Slow — Slow — Quick — Quick — Slow. — Ah, watch it! You’re supposed to be the man, yeh fuckin’ eejit.
— Tell them to stop that language, said Veronica.
— Stop tha’ language, Jimmy Sr shouted.
— Linda said it, said Tracy from the hall.
— You made me.
— I didn’t.
— Did. — Come on. Your fingers are supposed to be at righ’ angles to my spine. — Slow — Slow — Quick — Quick — Slow.
— What’s goin’ on ou’ there? said Jimmy Sr.
He leaned back so he could see out into the hall. He grinned as he watched Linda and Tracy going through their steps. They hit the stairs.
— You’re doin’ it wrong, he said. — Look.
He got up and went into the hall.
Sharon grinned.
Veronica was dividing the food onto the plates.
— D’yeh need a hand, Mammy? said Sharon.
— No.
They heard Jimmy Sr.
— Now. Are yis watchin’? Yeh put your feet slightly apart, d’yeh see? Like this. — Now, I put my weight on me left foot. An’ wha’ foot do you put your weight on?
— The righ’ one, said Linda.
— Good girl, said Jimmy Sr. — Cos you’re the lady. — Then, look it, I side-step like tha’—an’ we’re off. Step — Step — Cha Cha Cha — Step — Step — Cha Cha Cha—