Roddy Doyle - The Van

— Fuck yeh, said Jimmy Sr and he got back to the hotplate and picked the fish slice up off the floor.

The burgers were welded to the plate; they were part of the plate.

— Look wha’ you’re after doin’, said Jimmy Sr.

Darren said nothing.

One of the punters outside spoke up.

— If that’s my burger you’re messin’ with there I’m not takin’ it, he told Jimmy Sr.

Jimmy Sr had had enough.

— Righ‘, he said. — Fuck off then. An’ get your burger somewhere else. — Annyone else want to complain?

But Bimbo came back and took over at the hatch. And with Bimbo blocking the view Jimmy Sr was able to get the burgers off the hot plate and into their bundies without doing too much damage to them. He dipped them into the deep fat fryer to make them juicy and then trapped them in the bundies before they dripped or fell apart.

— There, he said. — No help to you.

Darren said nothing.

Dunphies were out of the question as well as far as Darren was concerned and they had to go into the deep fat fryer with the fish, so Darren would stand back and get out of Jimmy Sr or Bimbo’s way while they fished out the dunphies. It was stupid. Still but, they had to respect Darren’s beliefs. Jimmy Sr told that to Maggie after Bimbo had told her about Darren and his vegetarianism.

— At least he has the courage of his convictions, he said.

He wasn’t really sure what that meant but it shut Maggie up. Not that she’d been giving out or anything; she’d just thought it was funny that someone called Rabbitte was a vegetarian. Jimmy Sr couldn’t see anything particularly funny about that.

Where Darren was way out of line, way out — just the once — was when he objected to the dunphies going into the same cooking oil as the fish.

— Wha’!?

— Part of the meat is left in the oil.

— So?

— It gets into the fish.

— It does in its hole. Nothin’ would get through tha’ batter. Bimbo made it.

Darren laughed but he kept going on all night about contaminating the oil and he put a face on him every time Jimmy Sr leaned over and dropped a dunphy into the fryer; he got on Jimmy Sr’s wick.

No one had ordered a dunphy; he just did it to annoy Darren; he deserved it.

—’Xcuse me, Darren, till I drop this into the holy of holies.

He blessed the dunphy as it sank down and bobbed up again between two pieces of cod.

— Make sure they don’t touch there, said Jimmy Sr. — We don’t want any bits o’ cod gettin’ into the dunphy an’ poisonin’ someone.

Darren had one last bash at explaining osmosis to Jimmy Sr. He was halfway through it when Jimmy Sr turned on him.

— Spare me the fuckin’ lecture, righ’, an’ just do your fuckin’ job.

He flicked a dunphy into the fryer so that it would send some oil flying in Darren’s direction. Darren got some of it on his arms. He said nothing but he went outside.

Jimmy Sr’s ears hummed while he waited for Darren to come back. He prayed for him to come back but he wouldn’t go to the door to look out; he wouldn’t even look at it.

He felt Darren going past him, on his way back to the fryer.

— Sorry, he said.

He looked at Darren: he looked fine.

— Okay? said Jimmy Sr.

— Yeah.

— Grand;—sorry.

They were all set to move out. It was the hottest day yet, Jimmy Sr reckoned. All they were waiting for now was Sharon.

— What’s she at? said Jimmy Sr. — Jesus tonigh’.

She had Gina with her, in the buggy.

— Mammy can’t mind her, she said before Jimmy Sr could ask her. — An’ the twins won’t.

— Yeh can’t bring the baby—

— Give us a hand, said Sharon.

She went round and opened the back door. She climbed in.

— Jesus!

The heat hit her.

Jimmy Sr picked up the buggy with Gina still in it and passed it in to Sharon.

— It’s fuckin’ dangerous—, he said.

— We’ll be grand, said Sharon. — Won’t we, Gina?

Gina was looking around. She liked what she saw. She tried to free herself. Sharon sat up on the hatch counter and held the buggy close to her, between her legs.

— I don’t know—, said Jimmy Sr.

He shut the door.

Bimbo went very carefully. An oul’ one on crutches could have gone faster.

— It’ll be fuckin’ dark by the time we get there, said Jimmy Sr.

— I don’t want to be responsible for an injury, Bimbo told him. — ’Specially to a baby.

But they got there. Jimmy Sr got Gina to sit on a shelf and gave her a Twix to keep her quiet for a bit and Sharon folded the buggy and put it in on top of the driver’s seat. It wasn’t too bad that way. Bimbo showed Gina how to make batter and he got her down off the shelf and let her dip a slab of cod into it. That was a mistake because now she had to dip everything into it, including herself. But it was nice having her in the van there; it was kind of exciting, as if they were performing for her. Bimbo put her back up on the shelf out of harm’s way, and Jimmy Sr gave her the other half of the Twix.

But she nearly fell into the deep fat fryer. She’d crawled nearer to it and she was leaning over to look at the bubbles and the smoke when Jimmy Sr saw her, roared and caught her. He didn’t really catch her, cos she wasn’t falling, but he told Sharon he did. The poor little thing was wringing with the sweat, so Jimmy Sr put her on the hatch counter to dry. She knocked the salt and pepper and a load of bags out onto the path. A load of young ones saw her and came over to look at her and say hello and wave at her but they didn’t buy anything, of course.

— Get us the salt an’ pepper there, will yeh, love, Jimmy Sr asked a young one.

— Get it yourself, she said.

They all walked off, laughing.

— Hope yeh got skin cancer! Jimmy Sr roared after them.

— Jesus, Daddy!

— Bitches.

— Bitis! said Gina after them.

— Good girl yourself, said Jimmy Sr.

They couldn’t keep her on the counter because she’d get in the way and she was bound to fall out so what Jimmy Sr did was, he went into the dunes and found a plank. He brought it back to the van and gave it a good wipe and used up most of a milk bottle of water to clean it. It was long enough to go over the top of the chip bin and that made a seat for Gina, in the corner, away from danger. She complained a bit; the plank was wet. Bimbo put a cloth under her.

Serving was easier here than at closing time cos there wasn’t a mad rush of people. It was good, a gradual, steady flow of customers. Jimmy Sr liked it. It was a good way to start the working day.

— Have yeh anny spicey burgers, Mister?

— They’re on the menu, said Jimmy Sr, but not in a snotty way.

— Oh yeah, said the young fella. — How much are they?

Jimmy Sr pointed at the price on the board.

— There; look it.

— Oh yeah.

The kid was a bit simple, he could tell; the way his mouth hung open.

— D’yeh want chips as well? he asked him.

— Yeah.

— Have yeh the money on yeh?

— Me ma’s comin’, said the kid.

— Fair enough, said Jimmy Sr. — Will she want annythin’ herself, would yeh say?

— Wha’?

— Will she be long?

— She’s comin’.

— Okay, said Jimmy Sr.

Poor little sap; he’d give him the order even if his ma didn’t come. He turned to get a spice-burger.

— Wha’ the fuck—

— What’?

— Yeh can’t fuckin’ do tha’ in here!

Sharon was changing Gina’s nappy.

Jesus; if a health inspector or a guard was passing and looked in and saw the baby’s little arse pointing out at him they’d be rightly fucked. Or Mister Whippy over the other side of the roundabout; if he saw what Sharon was doing he’d race down to Raheny station and report them, and he’d play the Teddy Bears’ Picnic all the fuckin’ way.