Roddy Doyle - The Van

They went on a reconnaissance mission. That was what Bimbo called it, but he was only messing. They went to a chipper; not the one they normally used cos the crowd in there were a snotty bunch of fuckers and Jimmy Sr hadn’t got on well with them since Leslie threw a dead cat over the counter into the deep fat fryer. That was years ago, long before Leslie went to England, and they still held it against him. Actually, it was gas when it happened. Jimmy Sr and the lads had gone in after closing time and the old fella, the one the kids called the Fat Leper, told Jimmy Sr what Les had done with the cat and Bertie changed his order from a batter burger to a smoked cod. — Just to be on the safe side, compadres, he said. Jaysis, they howled. And the Fat Leper barred the lot of them. And Bertie offered to buy the cat if that would make him feel any better, as long as he didn’t expect him to eat it as well. Anyway, the barring order only lasted one night — they were cute fuckers, the Italians; you don’t make your fortune by barring your best customers — but they still glared at Jimmy Sr. The Fat Leper didn’t; he’d died last year, but the rest of them did. Even the ones that had been in Italy when it had happened.

So they went to a different chipper, one in Coolock. It was kind of exciting going in; stupid really, but Jimmy Sr couldn’t help thinking that he was a bit of a thrill seeker. Bimbo went ahead of him. It was empty except for them.

— So far so good, said Bimbo.

There were two young fellas behind the counter, one of them opening the bags they put the chips into, putting a line of them on top of the counter, at the ready. Good thinking, thought Jimmy Sr, and he made a mental note of it. The other one was leaning against the back wall, scratching his hole. There were more of them inside, behind the yellow and red and blue plastic strips they always put over doorways in chippers but there was only the two lads on duty.

— Howyeh, lads, said Bimbo.

— Yeah? said the hole scratcher.

— Two singles, said Bimbo. — Like a good man, please.

— Large or small?

Bimbo looked at Jimmy Sr.

— A large’ll do me, Jimmy Sr told him.

— Two large, said Bimbo.

They stood there at the low part of the counter, where they put the vinegar on the chips and took the money. They leaned over and tried to see the lads in action, but the chips were already done so all they did was bag them.

— That all? said the other one.

— Yeah, said Bimbo, — thanks. We’re just after the dinner.

Jimmy Sr nudged him.

— Wha’?

— Go on, said Jimmy Sr. — Ask him.

It would be too late in a minute.

— Eh, lads—? said Bimbo.

They looked at him.

Jimmy Sr had to nudge Bimbo again; he was fuckin’ useless.

— Where d‘yis get your chips? Bimbo asked them. — Eh, if yeh don’t mind me askin’ now.

— In the ground, said the hole scratcher, the smartarsed little prick, and the two of them laughed.

Jimmy Sr had to drag Bimbo away from the counter.

— Come on.

— Wha’ abou’ the chips? said Bimbo.

— Fuck them, said Jimmy Sr.

He pushed Bimbo out the door. The two behind the counter were annoyed now because they’d two singles wrapped and ready and no home for them. Jimmy Sr gave them the fingers.

— Go back to your own country, he said. — Fuck the EEC.

He felt a lot better after that. He went back to give them more.

— An’ bring Tony Cascarino with yis, he said. — He’s fuckin’ useless annyway.

And he left the door open, so one of them would have to come around and close it cos it was quite chilly out.

Bimbo told Maggie what had happened and she kind of took over that department.

— Joint decisions, me bollix said Jimmy Sr, but he didn’t mind; he just said it to make Bimbo feel guilty, because he deserved it.

Maggie was brilliant. She got them a cash-and-carry card, no problem to her. Fellas Jimmy Sr knew would have killed their mothers for one of those cards, to get at the cheap drink, but Maggie went off one afternoon and came back with one. She’d a great business head on her.

— A revelation, said Bertie.

— Ah yeah, said Jimmy Sr. — Hats off to her.

Bimbo was chuffed.

She found out about permits and licences and that, stuff that Jimmy Sr couldn‘t’ve been bothered looking into, and Bimbo wouldn’t’ve been able to. She said she’d organise the stock, and all they’d have to worry about was getting the van in order, and then manning it. She said she’d look after the whole legal side of the operation. It was a load off their minds, both Jimmy Sr and Bimbo agreed on that.

— I didn’t even know yeh needed a fuckin’ licence, Jimmy Sr admitted.

— Oh God, yeah, said Bimbo. — Yeh need a licence for nearly everythin’, so yeh do.

Jimmy Sr supposed that it was only right; if you needed a licence for a dog or a telly it was only proper that you had to have one for a chipper van as well.

— It’s not so much the van, said Bimbo. — It’s more what yeh do in it, if yeh get me.

The outside of the van was looking well now. Bimbo’s brother, Victor, was a panel beater and he was going to do a job on the dints, the worst ones anyway. There were a few bald patches but a lick of paint would make them hard to find. The neighbours still stopped and looked at them working, but they’d stopped slagging them.

— We’ve got it looking smashin’, said Bimbo.

Jimmy Sr rubbed his fingers down the side, and there was no track left after it. He wouldn’t have been able to do that last week; his finger would’ve got stuck.

— Now for the inside, said Bimbo.

— Oh fuck, said Jimmy Sr.

They all got together in Bimbo and Maggie’s kitchen. Veronica came with Jimmy Sr so there was the four of them, and Maggie’s mother. It was nice.

— Now, said Maggie. — What I thought we’d do tonight was finalise the menu.

— Wha’ menu? said Bimbo.

— Yeah, said Jimmy Sr.

He was worried; he didn’t want to be a fuckin’ waiter.

Bimbo nearly whispered over the table to Maggie.

— It’s only a van.

Veronica started laughing, and Maggie did as well.

Jimmy Sr wasn’t sure what was happening, but he couldn’t help thinking that he was being hijacked, himself and Bimbo.

— The menu, lads, said Maggie — a bit sarcastically, Jimmy Sr thought — is the list of things that the customer chooses from.

— Like on the wall behind the counter? said Jimmy Sr.

— Exactly, said Maggie.

Jimmy Sr nodded, like he’d known that all along; he was just checking.

They got down to business. Maggie had stuff already done in under the grill, like on a cookery programme on the telly. She divided a burger in five and they each had a little bit. Jimmy Sr thought that this was a bit mean, until he tasted it.

— Jesus!

Enough said; they all agreed with him. Maggie had a list; she even had one of those clipboard things. She put a line through the first name.

— Wha’ are they called an’ annyway? Jimmy Sr asked Maggie.

— Splendid Burgers, said Maggie.

— My God, said Veronica.

They tasted five more. Maggie’s mother was still only on the second one when the rest of them had finished.

— Would annyone like a glass o’ water? said Bimbo.

— Please, said Veronica.

— Yeah, me too, said Jimmy Sr. — I thought the third one was the nicest.

— I don’t know if nicest is the word, said Veronica, — but—

— What abou’ you, Bimbo? Jimmy Sr asked.

— Yeah. I think so, he said. — Not the last one annyway; the fifth one.

— Fuck, no.

Maggie’s mother caught up with them.

— What do you think, Mammy? Maggie asked her.