— No way.
— He was very dark.
She hoped to God the baby wouldn’t have red hair.
— Was he good?
— Fuckin’ brilliant. He had me nearly screamin’, I’m not jokin’ yeh.
— Oh—
— We did it in the bath as well.
— God, I’d love tha’.
— It was brilliant.
— Yeah, said Jackie. — Yeh lucky bitch yeh, Sharon. I’m goin’ to go to the Harp from now on. — Come here, did he give you his cap?
— Wha’?
— His cap. Yeh know. His uniform.
— Ah, no.
— Did he not? — Yeh know Melanie Beglin? She has two o’ them. A German an’ a Swedish.
— Does she?
— Yeah. She’s a slut, tha’ one. — Jesus, sorry, Sharon! I didn’t mean—
Sharon laughed.
— She is though, said Jackie. — I hate her. Come here, Sharon, though. Why did Mister Burgess run away?
— I don’t know!
— I know it wasn’t — because. Yeh know. But — Let’s go an’ get pissed.
— Ah—
— Go on, Sharon. Howth. A bit o’ buzz.
— Okay. Where’s me shoes?
— There, look it. I’ll get them.
— No, it’s alrigh’. Jesus, me fuckin’ back. — How’s Yvonne takin’ it?
–
— Will yeh tell her about the sailor? said Sharon.
— Okay.
— Thanks.
* * *
— I’ll be blinded by these bloody sequins, said Veronica.
— Wha’? said Jimmy Sr.
— Look it, said Veronica. — I’m still on Linda’s one.
She held up the dress.
— It looks like I’ve only started.
— That’s shockin’, said Jimmy Sr. — Why couldn’t they just play basketball or somethin’? It looks very nice though, Veronica.
— Mm.
Jimmy Sr wriggled around on the couch. It was past his going out time.
— D’yeh know wha’, Veronica? I’m nearly afraid to go down to the pub — because of—
— Oh, shut up.
— Do you believe her, Veronica?
— Shut up.
* * *
There was a bunch of kids, boys Darren’s age, sitting on the wall at the bus-stop when Sharon got off. They all stared at her as she went past them. When she’d gone about three gates one of them shouted.
— How’s Mister Burgess?
She didn’t turn or stop.
— Yeh ride yeh.
She kept walking.
They were only kids.
Still, she was shaking and kind of upset when she got home and upstairs. She didn’t know why really. Men and boys had been shouting things after her since she was thirteen and fourteen. She’d never liked it much, especially when she was very young, but she’d looked on it as a sort of a stupid compliment.
Tonight was different though. Being called a ride wasn’t any sort of a compliment anymore.
* * *
— What’re YOU fuckin’ lookin’ at? Jimmy Sr asked Paddy.
He was serious.
— Nothin’.
— D’yeh think I have fuckin’ cancer or somethin’?
— No!
— Ah lads, now, said Bimbo. — There’s no need for tha’ sort o’ shite.
— I didn’t do annythin’, Paddy insisted.
— You were starin’ at me, said Jimmy Sr. — Annyway, he said out of nowhere. (They’d been talking about Stephen Roche.) — It wasn’t Burgess. It was a Spanish sailor.
* * *
— She thinks he was Spanish annyway, Jackie told Mary. — Where? said Mary. — The Harp.
— Oh, yeah. — D’you believe her?
— Yeah. It couldn’t have been—
— No.
— Will Yvonne believe it, d’yeh think? Jackie asked.
— Emm — she might.
— She won’t, sure she won’t?
— No. — She might though.
* * *
Two nights after Sharon told Jackie about the Spanish sailor George Burgess was waiting for her outside work.
— God! said Sharon. — How did you know where I worked?
— Did yeh not see me at the vegetables?
He was having problems holding up his smile.
— What d’you want, Mister Burgess?
— George.
— Mister Burgess.
— Yeh didn’t turn up on Tuesday.
— I know I didn’t. Wha’ d’yeh want?
— I want to talk to yeh, Sharon.
— That’s a pity now, Mister Burgess, cos I don’t want to talk to you.
— Ah Sharon, please. I have to talk.
The smile was gone.
— I’m tormented.
— You’re tormented! Yeh prick yeh. Who’s been flingin’ rocks at my window? An’ how did yeh know it was my window annyway? An’ sendin’ me stupid fuckin’ letters. Well? — You’ve made me the laughin’ stock o’ Barrytown, that I can’t even go ou’ without bein’ jeered. You’re tormented! Fuck off, Mister Burgess.
She started to walk around him. He was going to stop her, but then he didn’t. He walked with her.
— Look, Sharon, I swear I’ll leave you alone. On the Bible; forever. If yeh just listen to me for a minute. I swear.
— Fuck off.
— Please, Sharon. Please.
— Get your fuckin’ hands off me!
But she stopped.
— Wha’? she said.
— Here?
— Yeah.
— Can we not go into a pub or — or a coffee place or somethin’?
No, we can’t. Come on, I’m in a hurry.
— Okay.
She was watching Mister Burgess blushing.
— Sharon, he said. — Sharon — I love you, Sharon. Don’t laugh; I do! I swear. On the — I love you. I’m very embarrassed, Sharon. I’ve been thinkin’ about it. — I think I–I want to take care of you—
— You took care of me five months ago. Goodbye, Mister Burgess.
She walked on.
— It’s my son too, remember, said George.
— Son!?
— Baby, I meant baby.
— Your baby?
She couldn’t stop the laugh coming out.
— You’ve got it bad, haven’t you, Mister Burgess?
— I have, Sharon; yeah.
He sighed. He looked at the ground. Then he looked at her for a second.
— I’ve always liked yeh, Sharon; you know tha’. I — Sharon, I’ve been livin’ a lie for the last fifteen years. Twenty years. The happily married man. Huh. It’s taken you to make me cop on. You, Sharon.
— Did you rehearse this, Mister Burgess?
— No. — Yeah, I did. I’ve thought o’ nothin’ else, to be honest with yeh. I’ve been eatin an’ drinkin’ an’ sleepin’—sleepin’ it, Sharon.
— Bye bye, Mister Burgess.
— Come to London with me, Sharon.
— Wha’!?
— I’ve a sister, another one, lives there an’—
— Would you ever—
— Please, Sharon; let me finish. — Thanks. Avril. Me sister. She lives very near QPR’s place, yeh know. Loftus Road. She’d put us up no problem, till we get a place of our own. I’ll get a—
— Stop.
Sharon looked straight at him. It wasn’t easy.
— I’m not goin’ annywhere with yeh, Mister Burgess. I’m stayin’ here. An’ it’s not YOUR baby either. It’s not yours or annyone else’s. Will yeh leave me alone now?
— Is it because I’m older than yeh?
— It’s because I hate the fuckin’ sight of yeh.
— Oh. — You’re not just sayin’ tha’?
— No. I hate yeh. Will I sing it for yeh?