Roddy Doyle - The Van

— Shut up! Jimmy Sr hissed at him.

— I must have put it in the batter—

— Shut up!

— What is it? said Sharon.

The man wasn’t angry-looking now; he looked like he needed comfort.

— Is it a used one? Jimmy Sr asked him, and he crossed his fingers.

— No!

— Ah well, said Jimmy Sr. — That’s alrigh’ then.

— That’s how, said Bimbo. — It’d look like a piece o’ cod, folded up like. Ah, that’s gas.

— Sorry abou’ tha’, said Jimmy Sr to the man. — We’ll give yeh your money back, an’ a can o’ Coke; how’s tha’ sound? Were the chips alrigh’?

The man wasn’t won over. He folded the bag into a neater package and put it under his arm.

— I’m goin’ to the guards with this, he said.

— Ah, there’s no need—

— This is the evidence, the man interrupted Bimbo.

He checked to see that the bag was still under his arm.

— You’ll be hearin’ more about this, he told them. — Don’t you worry. I’ll never recover from a shock like this.

— A tenner, said Jimmy Sr. — Will tha’ do yeh?

— What’s your name? he asked Jimmy Sr.

— I don’t have to tell you tha’, said Jimmy Sr.

— I don’t care, said the man. — I’ve the evidence here.

— Twenty, said Jimmy Sr. — Final offer; go on.

— I’ve the evidence.

— Shove the fuckin’ evidence. We know nothin’ about it.

— You’re not goin’ to bribe me, said the man.

— It’s the suppliers yeh should be reportin‘, said Jimmy Sr, — not us. We know nothin’ abou’ nappies.

Gina started singing again. Sharon put her hand over Gina’s mouth, but the man wasn’t listening. He was looking at the sign on the side of the van.

— Which one of yis is Bimbo? he said.

— Ask me arse, said Jimmy Sr.

He pulled Bimbo over to him.

— Get ou’ an’ start the van.

— But—

— Fuckin’ do it!

Bimbo went to the back door.

— Go round the other way, Jimmy Sr told him.

He remembered something.

— The gas!

Bimbo lifted the gas canister and pushed it into the van. He closed his eyes when it scraped on the floor. Jimmy Sr distracted the man.

— It must be terrible bein’ baldy with the sun like this, he said. — Is it?

Bimbo got to the driver’s door, around the other side of the van, without the man seeing him. He got the buggy off the seat.

— I’m rememberin’ all this, the man told Jimmy Sr.

— Good man, said Jimmy Sr.

He took away the hatch bars when he heard the engine starting.

— See yeh now, Baldy Conscience, he said. — Keep in touch.

And he dropped the hatch door. The salt and the vinegar fell onto the path. He shut the back door.

— Go on, go on!

The van lurched; Jimmy Sr fell forward, and grabbed a shelf. It skipped again, and then they got going.

Jimmy Sr steadied himself. He leaned against the hatch counter.

— My Jaysis—

— He’ll get the registration, said Sharon.

— No, he won’t, said Jimmy Sr.

— Why not?

— We don’t have one. It’s in the shed in Bimbo’s. We never stuck it back on. Just as well, wha’.

— He might be followin’ us, said Sharon.

She had a point.

Jimmy Sr opened the back door. They were still on the causeway road, and there was your man coming after them, pedalling like fuck.

— I’ll get this bollix, said Jimmy Sr.

He looked back, around the van. He stepped over to the hotplate and got a can of Coke from under it. They went over a pothole or something when he was bending over. The hotplate and the fryer were still turned on.

— Jesus; I nearly fuckin’ fried myself.

He got to the canister and switched it off.

He weighed the Coke in his hand, then wiped the grease off it on his shirt.

— You’ll kill him, said Sharon.

She was probably right. They were heavy things when they were full. He grabbed a few pieces of cod. They were still hard enough.

Bimbo turned left instead of right at the top of the causeway road.

— What’s he fuckin’ doin’?

— It’s so your man can’t follow us home, said Sharon.

— Fair enough.

He opened the back door again and the man was still after them, but further back; his legs didn’t have it. Jimmy threw a piece of cod anyway, skimmed it, to see how far he could get it. He watched it bounce off the road, well short of the man.

— There’s more evidence for yeh!

He shut the door.

Bimbo brought them to Clontarf, then up the Lawrence’s Road, onto the Howth Road. He went up Collins’ Avenue at Killester, and to the Malahide Road.

Jimmy Sr looked out again, and saw Cadbury’s in Coolock.

— We’ll end up in fuckin’ Galway, he said.

He threw Gina up and caught her, and again, but not too high because he’d already hit her head off the roof, and he was only doing it now to make her forget about it.

They got home. Jimmy Sr and Sharon were melting when they got out the back. Jimmy Sr had to stand in front of the open fridge door.

— We’ll steer clear o’ Dollier for a while, he said.

— Yeah, said Bimbo.

Bimbo was angry.

— It would never’ve happened if she’d—

— Shut up, said Jimmy Sr.

Maggie had a great head for ideas; Jimmy Sr had to say that for her. She got flyers printed and sent Wayne and Glenn and Jessica all around putting them into houses. Linda and Tracy did them as well, until Darren caught them sticking hundreds of the flyers into the letter-box outside the Gem.

BIMBO’S BURGERS TODAY’S CHIPS TODAY Wedding Anniversary? Birthday? Or Just Lazy? Treat Yourself And Let Us Cook Your Dinner For You Ring 3746 93and Ask for Maggie

That was what they said, on nice blue paper.

— Four-course meals? said Jimmy Sr when she was telling them about it. — How’ll we fuckin’manage tha’?

— Easy, said Maggie.

She’d stick the melon into the fridge in the afternoon so it would be still nice and cold when Bimbo and Jimmy Sr delivered it. They’d use a flask if it was soup; just pour it into the bowls and get it into the houses and onto the tables while there was still steam coming up off it. The main course was no bother because that was what they made all the time anyway.

— What abou’ the sweet but? said Jimmy Sr. — The ice-cream’ ll be water by the time they’ve got through their main stuff.

He wasn’t against the idea; he just saw problems with it.

— Well, said Maggie. — You could keep chunks of ice-cream in a flask as well—

— Wha’; with the soup?

— There’s bound to be a mix-up, said Bimbo. — Somewhere along the line.

What they decided on was, one of them would do a legger back to Bimbo’s while the customers were laying into the main course and get the ice-cream out of the fridge and hoof it back. That was Darren’s job. He didn’t mind; he got an almighty slagging from the lads when they saw him running across the Green with a bowl of jelly and ice-cream in each hand but it was better than having to go into the house and serving the customers, like a bleedin’ waiter. That was Bimbo’s job.

Jimmy Sr shook the flask over the bowl and the last bits of potato slid out and dropped into the soup.

— There now—

There was nothing like a few big chunks of vegetable to make packet soup look like the real thing.

— That’s great lookin’ soup, said Jimmy Sr. — Wha’.

— Lovely, said Bimbo.

— It’s wasted on those fuckers.

— Ah now, said Bimbo.

They were feeding the O’Rourkes tonight, Larry and Mona; their twenty-third wedding anniversary.

— We should make them cough up before we hand over the grub, said Jimmy Sr. — Fuckin’ Larry wouldn’t give yeh the steam off his piss if you were dyin’ o’ dehydration.