Roddy Doyle - The Guts

— How’s your coffee?

— Grand.

— Croissants are nice, aren’t they?

— Better than nothin’.

— You’re sure you’re okay?

— Yeah, said Outspan. — One thing but.

— Wha’?

— Why didn’t yeh call an ambulance?

— Fuck, said Jimmy.

— Well?

— It never occurred to me — sorry.

— Fuckin’ eejit.

Outspan looked terrible. He had the cylinder beside him, lying on the grass. Jimmy had watched him earlier, heading off to the jacks, bent over, slow. It had been horrible to watch. He hadn’t known what to do — or say.

— D’yeh need a hand?

He’d half got up, ready to go after Outspan. Outspan didn’t look back.

— Prob’bly, he’d said.

He’d looked livelier coming back, a bit easier in his movements. He sat down beside the oxygen.

— What’s the plan?

Jimmy had put on his clean jeans. He leaned back into the tent –

— Fuck —

— and got the remains of the programme out of the pocket of the old ones. It was soggy but legible. He had to bring it right up to his eyes.

— There’s one o’ my bands on at a quarter past twelve.

— Who?

— The Halfbreds, said Jimmy. — Mad pair o’ cunts. Husband an’ wife.

— Fuck sake.

— They might break up onstage.

— Sounds good.

— They usually do, said Jimmy. — Tha’ reminds me.

He got his phone out.

— Textin’ the missis?

— The boss.

— I thought you were your own boss.

— The partner, said Jimmy.

Noeleen had the backstage passes for Marvin and the lads; he’d forgotten to bring them.

There was a text in that he hadn’t noticed — Leaving now X — from Aoife. He texted back. Great. X . He’d phone Marvin. It would save him the bother of a half-dozen texts. And he wanted to hear Marvin’s voice. He texted young Jimmy. Alrite? Xx .

— Hungry? he said.

— Starvin,’ said Outspan.

— Rasher sandwich?

— Fuckin’ great.

— There’s a place over there sells them, said Jimmy.

He stood up. The night on the ground was out of his bones.

— I’ll have a look in at this waster.

He unzipped the tent.

Les was awake.

— Mornin’, said Jimmy.

— Alright?

— Grand. Yourself?

— Fine, yeah. I think.

— Does a rasher sandwich sound good?

— Sounds great.

— Grand.

There was a queue at the rashers. He phoned Noeleen. He didn’t want to. He wanted to stay with Outspan. It had been so easy, slipping out of the life. But fuck it; it was his job, his income — his son, for fuck sake. And he loved it. He just needed to think properly.

— Jimbo!

— Howyeh, Noeleen.

— The big day.

— Yeah, he said. — Did yeh camp?

— There is no fucking way I’d camp.

She was on her way, still on the motorway. They’d meet at the gate. She’d text him when she was parking.

The queue had moved. He could smell the rashers. He was starving — fuckin’ weak.

He’d call Marvin now.

He saw Des. With a woman. A good-looking woman. A bit long in the tooth for her shorts and mucky Uggs. But a woman — in shorts and mucky Uggs.

Marvin answered like he’d been waiting.

— Hi.

— Marv?

— Hi.

— How are things?

— Good, yeah. Grand.

— All set?

— Yeah — nearly. Yeah. We need — do you have backstage passes or something?

He arranged to phone Marvin after Noeleen had texted him. It was getting messy. He should have had the passes and everything sorted before the weekend. What if Noeleen had a puncture or went into a ditch?

But it was fine. Everything would be grand. He was next in the queue.

— Des!

Des, even at a distance, was still a bit stoned. He had to peer over his huge grass before he spotted Jimmy.

— D’yeh want a rasher sandwich, Des?

Jimmy watched as Des translated the question from English into Des, and back.

— Yeah!

Jimmy hoped Des would bring the woman over with him so he could get a good look at her. But he didn’t. He kissed her on the mouth — fair enough — and they swapped phone numbers. They looked like they both needed help; she was in huge grass of her own.

The sandwiches were ready for him on the counter, a block of flats in tinfoil. He handed over twenty-four euro and got nothing back. He texted Aoife. Bring sum money. X

Des was beside him.

— You had a fuckin’ adventure, said Jimmy.

Des thought about this.

— Yeah.

Les was sitting with Outspan, and Outspan was sucking on the oxygen. Jimmy was worried again. But he handed out the sandwiches and sat down.

— You didn’t think of water, did you? said Les.

— No.

Les leaned into his tent and took out four cans.

— Oh Christ.

— Too much salt in the bacon, said Les.

They ate.

— Where were you? Outspan asked Des when he’d parked the mask on his head.

Des looked around.

— Somewhere over there, he said, although he didn’t point or nod.

— With a woman, said Jimmy.

— Good man, Dezlie.

— What was her name, by the way? Jimmy asked.

— Em —.

Des took out his phone, but remembered before he looked at it.

— Yvonne.

— Sure?

— Yeah — Yvonne.

The rashers were working the magic on Outspan.

— Did yeh get into her?

Des was still searching for the bread inside the tinfoil.

— It was —, he started. — I —

He’d found the bread.

— Great.

He bit. They waited.

— It was unusual, said Des. — I woke — I kind of woke up with her.

— Nice.

— Together, said Des.

— That’s the way.

— And, well — she definitely knew me but I wasn’t sure about her. She — eh — she held me like we’d been —

— Intimate.

— Yes.

— Do yeh not remember but? said Outspan. — What’s the fuckin’ point?

He dragged the mask down to his face and gave himself a blast.

— Some of it —, said Des. — I remember — kind of flashes.

— That’s not too bad.

Des smiled. There was a quick shift; he was one of the lads again.

— There was another man, he said.

— In the tent?

— In the bird?

— This morning, said Des. — Just there.

— Who was he?

— Her brother, said Des.

— Ah well —

— Or her husband.

That was great. They were back in last night’s swing, stretched back and laughing.

— Are yeh serious?

— Yes, said Des. — I’m not sure.

— It could be important.

— I know.

Outspan tapped Les’s elbow with his foot.

— Wha’ about you?

Les stared at Outspan’s foot.

— I was off with the fairies, he said.

Jimmy was happy enough with the answer. He didn’t want to know more.

— I’ve to work, he told them.

His phone rang just as he was getting it from his pocket.

— Where the fuck are you?

It was Barry, the Halfbred.

— Howyeh, Barry.

— Where?

— I’m on my way, Barry, said Jimmy. — I’ve been smoothin’ the path for yeh. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Are they lookin’ after yeh?

He hung up before he had to hear the answer. He stood and wiped the crumbs off his hoodie.

— Yis right? he said.

— We’ll follow you.

— No, said Jimmy.

He looked at Outspan.

— Are you up for all o’ this, Liam?

Outspan shrugged.

— I’m not goin’ in without you, said Jimmy.

— We’ll all go.

— All for fuckin’ one.

— We can always come back out, said Les. — If we need to.

They gathered up the things they’d be needing.