Roddy Doyle - The Van

— I got a bit o’ bad news earlier, said Bimbo. — It knocked me a bit.

He shrugged.

Bimbo’s parents were already dead. Jimmy Sr knew that because he remembered that they’d died very close to each other, a couple of weeks between them only. Maybe Maggie’s mother had snuffed it but — Bimbo was a bit of a softy but he wouldn’t break out crying in his local for Maggie’s mother; she’d been as good as dead for fuckin’ years. One of the kids—

Oh fuck. He wished Bertie was here.

Bimbo spoke.

— I was let go this mornin’.

— Wha’?

— Let go. — I’m like you now, Jimmy, wha’. A man o’ leisure.

— You were—?

— Yeah; gas, isn’t it?

He could see Bimbo’s eyes getting watery again. Poor Bimbo.

— How come? said Jimmy Sr, hoping that it might get Bimbo talking instead of crying.

— Oh. Ten of us got letters. The oldest, yeh know. In the canteen, on our way ou’.

Bimbo was a baker.

— The chap from the office said tha’ they had to compete with the big boys. That’s wha’ he called them, the big boys. — The fuckin’ eejit.

Bimbo hardly ever said Fuck.

— They need our wages to compete with the big boys — wha’.

— That’s shockin’, said Jimmy Sr.

Bimbo was twirling the stout in his glass; he didn’t know what he was doing.

— Any chance they’ll take yeh back when they’ve — yeh know?

— He said Yeah, the young fella from Personnel tha’ gave us the letters. I didn’t believe him though. I wouldn’t believe him if he — Tha’ sort o’ fella, yeh know.

Bimbo sat up straight again.

— Ah sure—

He grinned.

— We’ll keep each other company anyway, wha’.

— Ah yeah, said Jimmy Sr. — Fuckin’ sure.

There was that about it. He stopped himself from thinking that this was good news, but he nearly couldn’t help it.

It was shocking though. Bimbo was younger than him and he was being fucked out on his ear because he was too old.

— My father, God rest him, got me in there, said Bimbo.

— That’s righ’.

— His brother, me Uncle Paddy, he worked there.

— Yeah.

— I’ll never forget comin’ home the first week with me first wage packet. I ran all the way, nonstop all the way with me hand in me pocket to stop me money from fallin’ ou’. An’ a bag o’cakes tha’ had been sent back. Fruit slices. Fly cemeteries. I was more excited abou’ the cakes than I was abou’ the money, that’s how young I was. I knew I’d be king o’ the castle when me sisters saw the fruit slices. Marie’s little one has epilepsy, did I tell yeh?

Marie was one of Bimbo’s sisters, the one Jimmy Sr liked.

— No; is tha’ righ’?

— Yeah; Catherine. She’s only six. Sad, isn’t it?

— Jesus, yeah. — Six?

Bimbo started crying again. His face collapsed. He rubbed his nose. He searched for a hankie he didn’t have. He gulped. He smiled through it.

— What am I goin’ to do, Jimmy?

They got locked, of course. Bertie was great when he arrived.

— That’s great news, compadre, he told Bimbo. — You were always a poxy baker anyway, wha’.

And Bimbo burst his shite laughing; he was delighted. And Bimbo’s laugh; when Bimbo laughed everyone laughed. Veronica always said that Bimbo’s laugh lassoed you.

— Three nice pints, por favor, Bertie roared across to Leo, the barman. — An’ John Wayners, lads?

— Jaysis, said Jimmy Sr.

He hadn’t much money on him. Still though—

— Fair enough, he said.

— Okay, said Bimbo. — Me too.

— Good man, said Bertie. — An’ Leo? he roared. — Three Jamesons as well.

And then Paddy turned up.

— How much of a lump sum will yeh be gettin’? Paddy asked Bimbo when he came in.

— Jesus Christ, said Jimmy Sr. — He isn’t even sittin’ down yet an’ he wants to know how much money you’re gettin’.

Bimbo laughed.

— I couldn’t give a shite how much he’s gettin’, said Paddy.

— Then wha’ did yeh ask him for then?

— I only asked him, said Paddy. — Fuck off.

— A couple o’ thousand, said Bimbo.

— Don’t tell him, said Jimmy Sr.

— Around three, said Bimbo. — I don’t know. They’re tellin’ us on Monday.

— We’ll meet up here at teatime on Monday so, said Bertie.

— Ah yeah, Bimbo assured them. — We’ll have to have a few pints out of it alrigh’.

— You’ll go to pieces without somethin’ to do, Paddy told Bimbo.

— Shut up the fuck! said Jimmy Sr.

He gave Bimbo a quick look, but Bimbo didn’t mind.

— You’d make a great doctor, Bertie told Paddy, — d‘yeh know tha’. I can just see yeh. You have cancer, missis, your tit’ll have to come off.

— Oh Jesus, said Bimbo.

— Yeah, said Jimmy Sr, when he’d stopped laughing. — Will he be alrigh’, Doctor? No, missis, he’s fucked.

They laughed again.

— Wha’ will yeh do but? Paddy asked Bimbo.

— There’s loads o’ things he can do, said Jimmy Sr.

— Like?

— Doin’ up his house, eh—

— His house is already done up, said Bertie. — It’s already like Elvis’s gaff; what’s it — Graceland.

Bimbo laughed at that, but he was pleased.

— His garden, said Jimmy Sr.

— His garden’s like—

— It’s not like a human garden at all, said Bertie.

— There’s loads o’ things he can do, Jimmy Sr insisted.

— Yeah, said Paddy. — I’m sure there is. Wha’ though?

— He can clean the church on Monday mornin’s, said Bertie.

They roared.

— Some oul’ one tried to get Vera to start doin’ tha‘, said Bertie. — Help cleanin’ the fuckin’ church on Monday mornin’s.

— I wouldn’t say that’d be Vera’s scene exactly, said Jimmy Sr.

— Not at all, said Bertie. — She doesn’t even help to dirty the fuckin’ place on Sunday mornin’s.

Bertie knocked back half of his pint.

— Ahh, he said.

— My turn, said Bimbo.

— The first of many, said Bertie.

— Leo, Bimbo shouted. — When you’re ready. Three—

— Four, said Paddy.

— Four pints an’ four small ones like a good man, please! They said nothing for a bit.

— Ah yes, said Bertie.

He was getting them ready.

— I know wha’ I’d do if I got a lumpo sum like Bimbo’s gettin’, he said.

One of them had to say it. So—

— Wha’? said Jimmy Sr.

— I’d bring it into the Gem, righ’.

— Eh—, righ’.

— An’ I’d wave it under Mandy’s nose an’ let her sniff it a bit.

Jimmy and Paddy started laughing.

— Then I’d bring her round the back, behind the fridge, righ’.

— Oh God.

Bimbo started laughing now.

— An’ I’d — die happy.

They laughed on top of what they were laughing already; Bertie sounded so sincere.

— My Jaysis, compadres, said Bertie when he’d recovered a bit, — I’m not jokin’ yis.

Paddy nodded. He liked Mandy from the Gem as well.

They all liked Mandy.

— You’re a dirty fucker, Jimmy Sr told Bertie.

— I said nothin’ tha’ yis don’t all think when yis go into tha’ shop. Tha’ signorita. My fuckin’ Jaysis.

— She’s only sixteen, abou’, said Bimbo.

— So?

Bimbo shrugged. It didn’t matter; they were only messing.

— I was in there this mornin‘, said Bertie. — She is unfuckinbelievable; isn’t she? I was gettin’ me Sun. She’s as good lookin’ as anny of them Page Three brassers.

— She’s better lookin’, said Jimmy Sr.

— Si, said Bertie, — She fuckin’ is. I said it as well; I told her.