— When Tracy said wha’ you said, Linda told him.
— You said it as well! said Tracy.
— I did not!
— Girls, girls, said Jimmy Sr. — Wha’ happened? Exactly.
He looked at Veronica. She looked away.
— She told everyone to say wha’ our mammies an’ our daddies said to each other tha’ mornin’.
— Oh my God! said Veronica.
Jimmy Jr started laughing. Darren was listening now as well.
— An’ it was real borin’ cos they were all sayin’ things like Good mornin’ dear an’ Give us the milk. — An’ Tracy said wha’ you said to Mammy.
She looked at Tracy. Tracy was going to kill her.
Veronica sat down.
— An’ would yeh by any chance remember wha’ I said to your mammy? Jimmy Sr asked.
— Yeah.
— Well? What was it?
— Yeh pointed ou’ the window — at the rainin’—
She pointed at the window.
— An’ then yeh said—
Jimmy Jr laughed. He remembered.
— Go on, said Jimmy Sr.
— You said It looks like another fuck of a day.
Jimmy Jr howled. So did Darren. Jimmy Sr tried not to.
Veronica put her hands to her face and slowly dragged her fingers down over her cheeks. Her mouth was open.
— Oh sweet Jesus, she said then, to no one.
Sharon came in.
— Hiyis, said Sharon. — What’re yis laughin’ at?
— There’s Sharon, said Jimmy Sr. — How are yeh, Sharon?
— Grand.
— Good. — Good.
He started laughing.
— Serves her righ’, the nosey brasser.
Jimmy Jr, Darren and the twins laughed. Jimmy Sr grinned at Veronica.
— Listen, he said to the twins. — If she asks yis again today tell her—
— No!
That was Veronica.
The Rabbittes laughed.
— What’re yis laughin’ at? Sharon still wanted to know.
— You, said Jimmy Jr.
Sharon gave him a dig.
— Mammy, you can give the skirts to the poor people, said Linda.
This tickled Jimmy Sr.
— What’s this? said Jimmy Jr.
— None o’ your business, said Jimmy Sr.
— What poor people? said Veronica.
— The Ethiopians, said Jimmy Jr.
Linda and Tracy giggled.
— I think that’s a lovely idea, Linda, said Jimmy Sr. — Fair play to yeh.
— Stop encouraging them, said Veronica.
— Stop? said Jimmy Sr, shocked. — Well now, I hope Miss O’Keefe doesn’t hear abou’ this. My God, wha’. The twins’s mother won’t let them show a bit o’ charity to those less fortunate than—
— Stop that!
Darren was in stitches. He loved it when his da talked like that.
— I’m sure there’s a couple o’ piccaninnies—
— Daddy!
The boys laughed, cheering on Jimmy Sr. The twins were still giggling, and looking at their mammy.
— in a refugee camp somewhere that’d love a couple o’ red lurex majorette’s dresses. An’ the sticks as well.
— You’re not fit to be a father, said Veronica.
— Not now maybe, Jimmy Sr admitted.
He patted his gut.
— I used to be though, wha’.
He winked at Veronica. She growled at him. Jimmy Sr looked at the boys and raised his eyes to heaven.
— Women, wha’.
He lowered the last of his tea. Then he heard something, a scraping noise.
— What’s tha’?
— Larrygogan, said Tracy. — He wants to come in.
Linda opened the door. Larrygogan, even smaller than usual because his hair was stuck down by the rain, was standing on the step.
— Come on, Larrygogan, said Linda.
Larrygogan couldn’t make it. He fell back twice. They laughed.
— The poor little sappo, said Jimmy Sr.
Linda picked him up and carried him in and put him down on the floor. He skidded a bit on the lino, then shook himself and fell over.
Then he barked.
The Rabbittes roared laughing. Jimmy Sr copied Larrygogan.
— Yip! Yip!
He looked at his watch.
— Oh good shite!
He was up, and grabbed his sandwiches.
— Are yeh righ’, Sharon? — Wha’ are they, he asked
Veronica.
— Corned beef.
— Yippee. — Good luck now. See yeh tonigh’.
He wondered if he should kiss Veronica on the cheek or something because they were both in a good mood at the same time. But no, he decided, not with the boys there. They’d slag him.
— Da, can I’ve a bike for me birth’y? Darren asked him.
— Yeh can in your hole, said Jimmy Sr.
— Ah, Da!
— Forget it, Sunshine.
Jimmy Sr waited for Sharon to go out into the hall first.
— Good girl.
He followed her.
— Hang on a sec, he said, at the front door.
He gave Sharon the keys of the van.
— Let yourself in.
Les thought it was a heart attack. He tried to scream, but he couldn’t.
Jimmy Sr’s hand was clamped tight over Les’s face. He waited till Les was awake and knew what was happening.
— That’s the front o’ me hand, Jimmy Sr told Les.
He pushed Les’s head deeper into the pillow.
— If yeh don’t get up for your breakfast tomorrow like I told yeh you’ll get the back of it. D’yeh follow?
Jimmy Sr took his hand off Les’s face.
— Now get up, yeh lazy get, an’ don’t be upsettin’ your mother.
He stopped at the door.
— I want to talk to you tonigh’, righ’.
Downstairs, Jimmy Jr and Darren heard a snort. They looked and saw their mother crying. It was terrible. She was wiping tears from her eyes before they could get to her cheeks.
But she wasn’t crying. She was laughing. She tried to explain why.
— They’re not—
She started laughing again.
— They’re not corned beef at all.
A giggle ran through her, and out.
— They’re Easy Slices.
They didn’t know what she was on about but they laughed with her anyway.
* * *
Sharon was in bed. She’d decided: tomorrow. She’d been half-thinking of doing it tonight but then Jackie had come in with the big news: she’d broken it off with Greg. So they’d had to spend the rest of the night slagging Jackie and tearing Greg apart. It’d been brilliant crack.
So Jackie would be there when she told them all tomorrow. That was good because the two of them always defended one another when the slagging got a bit serious. She was going to tell the rest of the family first, after the tea — that would be easy — and then the girls, later in the Hikers.
That was it, decided. But she wasn’t a bit sleepy now. She had been when she got into bed but once she’d made up her mind she was wide awake again.
What was she going to tell them; how much? Only that she was pregnant. But what was going to happen after that, and what they were going to ask and say, and think; that’s what was worrying her.
— Go on, Sharon, tell us. Who was it?
There was no way she was going to tell them that. If they ever found out — God, she’d kill herself if that happened, she really would. She couldn’t think of a good enough lie to tell them, one that would stop them from asking more questions. She could say she didn’t know who he was but they wouldn’t believe her. Or if they did, if Sharon told them she’d been so pissed she couldn’t remember, they’d help her remember and they wouldn’t give up till they’d found someone. — Was it him, Sharon, was it? And if Sharon said, No, it wasn’t him, they’d say, — How d’yeh know if yeh can’t remember? It must’ve been him then.