— This hombre, he speaks the truth, said Bertie.
— A good lookin’ young lad, yeh know, said Bimbo. — A bit different as well, yeh know. Dark an’ tall. An’—
— Exotic, said Bertie.
— Exactly, said Bimbo.
— An’ a hefty langer on him, said Bertie.
They all laughed, even Jimmy Sr.
— Christopher Columbus, said Bertie.
They roared.
— You believe her, don’t yeh? said Bimbo.
Jimmy held his glass up to the light so he wouldn’t have to look at Bimbo or the other two.
— I’d—, he began.
— Course yeh do, said Bimbo.
— Yeah, said Jimmy Sr. — I suppose I do. I def’ny would if I knew — Veronica says I should believe her whether it’s true or not.
— She’s righ’, said Bimbo.
— Yeah, said Jimmy Sr. — Yeah. Whose round is it?
* * *
Sharon wasn’t sure, but she thought they’d all swallowed it. It made more sense anyway, the lie; it was more believable. No one would ever have believed that herself and Mister Burgess had — she couldn’t think of any proper name for it — except for she was pregnant and Mister Burgess had told Missis Burgess that he’d got a young one pregnant. But everyone would easily believe that she’d got off with a Spanish sailor.
So it made more sense. But she knew this as welclass="underline" everyone would prefer to believe that she’d got off with Mister Burgess. It was a bigger piece of scandal and better gas. She’d have loved it herself, only she was the poor sap who was pregnant. Yeah definitely, Sharon and Mister Burgess was a much better story than Sharon and the Spanish sailor.
So that was what she was fighting against; Barrytown’s sense of humour. She’d keep telling them that it was the Spanish sailor and they’d believe her alright, but every time they thought about Mister Burgess with his trousers down and pulling at her tits and watering at the mouth they’d forget about the Spanish sailor.
She should have given him a name. It was too late now. Anyway, her daddy would have been down to the Spanish embassy looking for his address then.
She hated this time of the day, when there weren’t enough customers and some of the girls on the check-out had to do the shelves. She was straightening the ranks of shampoo and then she was going to do the same with the soap so she wouldn’t have to bend down too much because they were on the middle and top shelves.
She’d keep at it anyway, telling them about her Spanish sailor. She was sorry now she hadn’t thought of this earlier, before Mister Burgess ran away and started writing letters to everyone. It was a pity. None of this would have happened then.
— Ah cop on, Sharon, she told herself.
It was a good idea and it was working. Jackie believed her. Jackie said Mary believed her as well. Her mammy believed her. She wasn’t so sure about her daddy. But she’d keep at him, telling him until she believed it herself. She’d have loved that, to believe it herself.
She’d been noticing all the Spanish students that were always upstairs on the buses at this time of year. They looked rich — their clothes were lovely — and snotty. There were a lot of fat ones. But most of them had lovely skin and hair. Black eyes and black hair.
Sharon was fair. Mister Burgess was — pink and white. His hair was like dirty water.
Maybe she should have said it was a Swedish sailor.
Too late now.
She’d have to start eating polish or something. She grinned although she didn’t really feel like it. The shampoos were done and now she crossed the aisle to the soap.
— Fuck it annyway.
The Palmolives were nearly all gone and Simple section was empty. She’d have to fill them and that meant she’d have to bend down.
* * *
It wasn’t fair on the lads either, Jimmy Sr told Bimbo at his gate a few nights later, after closing time.
— I should stay at home maybe.
— Don’t be thick, said Bimbo.
Jimmy Sr reckoned they’d been talking about him. He knew it. Nothing surer. Let’s be nice to Jimmy. He’s having it rough. Don’t mention babies or Burgess or Sinbad the fuckin’ Sailor. It was terrible. He’d had a good one tonight about a young lad getting up on an oul’ one but he couldn’t tell it. They’d have laughed too loud.
— They’re just bein’, eh, considerate, said Bimbo. — It’ll pass.
— I suppose you’re righ’, said Jimmy Sr. — But I felt like a leper tonigh’ the way they were smilin’ at me.
— Bertie an’ Paddy wouldn’t smile at a leper, Jimmy. Cop on now. They just see that you’re not the best these days so — It’ll pass. It’ll pass. They’re just bein’ nice.
— I don’t like them nice. I prefer them the other way; bollixes. — Did yeh see the way the other shower were gawkin’ over at me?
— Ah Jaysis, Jimmy. — You’re not startin’ to get sorry for yourself, are yeh?
— Go home to bed, you.
— I will.
He yawned.
— Nigh’ now, Jim.
— Good luck.
— See yeh.
Jimmy Sr had chips for Veronica but they were cold so he ate them on the step, looking across at the Burgess’s, and then he went in.
* * *
It was Thursday night and Sharon was going upstairs after work. Jimmy Jr was coming down.
— Howyeh, Larry, said Sharon.
— Ah, don’t start, Sharon.
— How’s the practice goin’?
— Shite, to be honest with yeh. The tape sounds woeful. I sound like a fuckin’ harelip. — I’m thinkin’ o’ gettin’ elocution lessons.
Sharon screamed.
— You!
— Yeah; why not. Don’t tell Da, for fuck sake.
Sharon laughed. Jimmy grinned.
— It’d be worth it, he said, still grinning.
— How much?
— Don’t know. I’m only thinkin’ about it. Don’t tell him but; righ’?
— Don’t worry, said Sharon.
Sharon had asked about him and listened so Jimmy thought he’d better ask about her, and listen.
— How are yeh yourself an’ annyway? he said.
— Grand.
— Gettin’ big, wha’. He nodded at her belly.
— Yeah, said Sharon.
— Does it hurt?
— No! — I do exercises for the extra weight an’ tha’.
— Yeah?
— Yeah. Sometimes only.
— Nothin’ wrong then?
— No. Not really.
— D’yeh get sick?
— No. Not annymore.
— That’s good. I was in bits meself this mornin’.
— Were yeh?
— Yeah. The oul’ rum an’ blacks, yeh know.
— Oh Jesus.
— I know. Never again. I puked me ring; Jesus. And me lungs. The oul’ fella was battenn’ the door. — Come here, d’yeh eat annythin’ funny?
— No.
— I saw yeh eatin’ tha’ long stuff; what’s it — celery.
— That’s not funny.
— S’pose not. Never ate it.
— It’s nice.
— Mickah’s ma ate coal when she was havin’ him.
— Jesus!
— He says annyway. She said she used to nibble it when no one was lookin’.
— That’s gas—
Jimmy looked at his watch. It wasn’t there.
— Bollox! I’ve left me watch in work again.
— I’m goin’ to me check-up tomorrow, Sharon told him.
— Yeah?
— Yeah. Me second one, it is.
— That’s great. I’m—
— Not a complete physical this time. Thank God. It took fuckin’ ages the first time, waitin’. They even checked me heart to see if I have a murmur.