— It’s David Attenborough.
— It looks like a hedgehog, said Jimmy Sr.
They laughed.
— It’s abou’ hedgehogs, said Sharon. — Wildlife On One.
— Ah yeah. Jaysis, look at him! The speed of him. Where’s the remote till we hear wha’ David’s sayin’.
— Oh look it, said Sharon. — There’s two o’ them now.
Jimmy Jr came in.
— Typical, said Jimmy Sr. — Walkin’ in just when the nookie’s startin’.
Jimmy Jr sat down, on the other side of Sharon.
— What’s thot? he said.
— A hudgehog, said Jimmy Sr. — Two hudgehogs. Roidin’.
— Fuck off.
— Keep your feet up there, Sharon, said Jimmy Sr. — You’ll get cramps.
— I’m goin’ to the toilet.
— Oh, fair enough. — So that’s how they do it. That’s very clever all the same. Off he goes again, look it. Back into the hedge. Didn’t even say goodbye or thanks or ann’thin’. That’s nature for yeh.
Jimmy Jr was bored. He didn’t like nature programmes or things like that. But he wanted to talk to Sharon so he stayed where he was.
Jimmy Sr sniffed.
— Are you wearin’ perfume?
— Fuck off.
Sharon came back and sat between the Jimmys.
— Feet up, Sharon, said Jimmy Sr. — That’s righ’.
— Come here, said Jimmy Jr.
But Jimmy Sr got to her first.
— Only a few more weeks to go now, wha’.
— Yeah, said Sharon.
— Sharon, said Jimmy Jr.
— Wha’?
— Do us a favour, will yeh.
— I was just lookin’ at your, eh, stomach there, Jimmy Sr told Sharon. — It’s movin’ all over the place.
— Wha’? Sharon asked Jimmy Jr.
— I can’t tell yeh here—
— Do you mind! said Jimmy Sr.
— Wha’? said Jimmy Jr.
— I was talkin’ to Sharon.
Jimmy Jr leaned out so he could see past Sharon.
— So?
— So fuck off. Go upstairs an’ spin your discs.
Sharon was laughing.
Jimmy Sr was looking at his watch. He stood up.
— You’ve got three minutes, he said. — I’ll check an’ see if Veronica’s fixed Darren’s jersey yet.
— Did he crash again?
— No. The fuckin’ dog was swingin’ off it when it was on the line.
He was gone. Jimmy Jr stood up and shut the door.
— I’ve a gig in a few weeks; Soturday, he told Sharon.
— Stop talkin’ like tha’, will yeh.
— I’m tryin’ to get used to it.
— It makes yeh sound like a fuckin’ eejit.
— Here maybe, but not on the radio, said Jimmy.
— Anywhere, said Sharon.
— The lessons cost me forty fuckin’ quid, said Jimmy.
— You were robbed, said Sharon. — Yeh sound like a dope. — Roight?
— Fuck up a minute. I’ve a gig on, Soh-Saturday fortnight.
— Wha’ gig?
— On the radio, said Jimmy.
She looked as if she didn’t believe him.
— The community radio. You know. — Andy Dudley’s garage.
— Tha’!
— Yeah; tha’!
Sharon roared.
— Don’t start, said Jimmy. — Wacker Mulcahy — he calls himself Lee Bradley on Saturdays — he has to do best man at his brother’s weddin’. So Andy said I can have his slot.
— His wha’?
— His slot.
— That’s disgustin’.
— Oh yeah.
They both laughed.
— Annyway, listen.
He switched on his new accent.
— Hoy there, you there, out there. This is Jommy Robbitte, Thot’s Rockin’ Robbitte, with a big fot hour of the meanest, hottest, baddest sounds arouuund; yeahhh. — How’s tha’?
— Thick.
— Fuckin’ thanks.
— No, it’s good. Rockin’ Rabbitte, I like tha’.
— Do yeh? — I was thinkin’ o’ callin’ meself Gary — eh, Gary Breeze.
Sharon had a hankie in her sleeve and she got it to her nose just in time.
— I’ll stick to Rockin’ Rabbitte, will I? said Jimmy.
He grinned. Sharon nodded.
— Yeah.
Jimmy Sr was back.
— Hop it.
— Righ’. Thanks, Sharon.
Jimmy Jr left.
— Was he annoyin’ yeh? said Jimmy Sr.
— Ah no.
— You’ve enough on your plate withou’ that eejit hasslin’ yeh. — Righ’. Annyway, Sharon, what I wanted to say was: how’re yeh feelin’?
— Grand.
— You’re not nervous or worried or ann’thin’?
— No, she lied. — Not really.
— Three weeks.
— Twenty days.
— That’s righ’.—I’ve been thinkin’ a bit, said Jimmy Sr. — An’, well; if yeh want I’ll—
The twins charged in, just like the cavalry.
— Daddy, said Linda. — Mister Reeves says you’re to hurry up an’ he says if we get you ou’ of the house in a minute he’ll give us a pound.
Jimmy Sr patted Sharon’s leg.
— I’ll get back to yeh abou’ tha’, he said.
— Okay, said Sharon.
About what? she wondered.
— Righ’, girls, said Jimmy Sr. — Let’s get this pound off o’ Bimbo.
That left Sharon alone. She laughed a bit, then closed her eyes.
* * *
She didn’t wait at her usual bus-stop, across from work. She kept going, around the corner to the stop with the shelter. There was no one else there.
She couldn’t stop crying. She wasn’t trying to stop.
She leaned her back against the shelter ad. She gulped, and let herself slide down to the ground. She fell the last bit. She didn’t know how she’d get up again. She didn’t care.
She gulped, and gulped, and cried.
* * *
Sharon tried to explain it to Veronica.
— I’m sick of it, she said.
She tried harder.
— I hate it, watchin’ the oul’ ones countin’ their twopences out o’ their purses an’ lookin’ at yeh as if you were goin’ to rob them. An’ listenin’ to them complainin’ abou’ the weather an’ the prices o’ things.
Her mother was still looking hard.
— And anyway, said Sharon. — Me back’s really killin’ me these days an’ I’m always wantin’ to go to the toilet an’—
She was crying.
— tha’ bastard Moloney is always houndin’ me. He’s only a shelf stacker in a suit, an’ Gerry Dempsey — prick! — he put his arm round me. In front of everyone, an’ he said to give him a shout if I was havin’ anny more babies. — An’
I’m sick of it an’ I’m not goin’ back. I don’t care!
Veronica wanted to go around to Sharon and hold her but—
— Sharon, love, she said. — A job’s a job. Could you not wait—
— I don’t care, I’m not goin’. You can’t make me.
Veronica let it go.
— You’d love to make me go back, wouldn’t yeh? said
Sharon. — Well, I’m not goin’ to. I don’t care. — All you care abou’ is the money.
Veronica got out of the kitchen. She sat on the bed in her room.
* * *
— Yeh did righ’, Sharon, said Jimmy Sr.
— Yeah — well—
— No; you were dead righ’.
— It was just — Sharon started; then stopped.
— I shouldn’t have paid any attention to them, she said. — I’d only the rest of the week to go anyway. I’ll go back tomorrow an’—
— You won’t, said Jimmy Sr. — If yeh don’t want to.