Roddy Doyle - The Van

— What’s keepin’ yeh? said Bimbo.

— Are yeh comin’ to watch me? said Jimmy Sr.

He wasn’t sure he wanted Bimbo along with him for this one. Bimbo was too nice to everyone. He’d be chatting away to McCabe and all Jimmy Sr’s work would be wasted.

— Wha’? said Bimbo.

He’d come down to hurry Jimmy Sr up; they were bringing the van to Dollier. Maggie and himself had looked out the window, seen all the blue in the sky, and stocked up the van. Only Jimmy Sr hadn’t been with them, so he didn’t know anything about it. They just expected him to hop. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

It upset him. He still beat Sinbad McCabe though.

Another thing he’d thought about a few times, and he couldn’t make up his mind about it, if it was important or not: Bimbo had bought the van. Jimmy Sr’d been there beside him when he did it, but Bimbo’d paid for it. He hadn’t paid much for it; he didn’t think it mattered — he wasn’t sure. He didn’t feel guilty about it. Maybe he should have given Bimbo his half of the cost of the van. He had the money now. He was welcome to it. What would happen if he did that though? Probably nothing; he didn’t know. He’d think about it, maybe talk to Veronica about it. He didn’t want to do anything that would mess everything up. At the same time, he was no one’s skivvy. Partners was the word Bimbo’d used at the very start, in the Hikers the day they’d pushed the van to Bimbo’s. Maybe it was time to remind him of that. He didn’t want to hurt Bimbo’s feelings though, or even Maggie’s. He didn’t know.

He’d think about it.

It was great knowing there’d be money there when he put his hand in his pocket; not that he’d much time to spend it. He could go up to the Hikers whenever he wanted, if he wanted to. He sometimes got the paper in the mornings and brought it into the pub and had a quiet pint by himself but it always smelt of last night and polish and the smell that old hoovers left behind them. Except on Saturdays and Sundays; they were better.

He bought himself a suit, a grey one. Veronica liked it. She even came down to the Hikers with him the first Sunday he wore it. It wasn’t flashy, and he didn’t wear a tie although he’d bought one of them as well.

— Nice suit, compadre, Bertie said.

— Must have cost yeh a few bob, was what Paddy said, but you wouldn’t have minded him.

Bimbo didn’t say anything but he was wearing a new suit himself the next Sunday, so he must have been impressed, or Maggie’d been.

They were thinking of getting a car; they’d always had one before, or a van, but they’d always had something. Veronica was putting money away.

— We’ll have a decent Christmas this year annyway, wha’, he said when himself and Veronica were out having a walk alongside the seafront.

— Jimmy.

— Wha’?

— It’s August.

— Yeh know what I mean, he said, but they laughed.

They all went to the zoo. Darren and the twins wouldn’t come, but the rest of them did; Jimmy Sr and Veronica, Sharon and Gina, and Jimmy Jr and his mot, Aoife. They’d a great day. Gina didn’t give a fuck about the animals; she just wanted to go on the slide all day. Jimmy Sr and Jimmy Jr laughed their way around the place. Aoife laughed at nearly everything they said, but especially when Jimmy Sr said that the hippo smelt like Veronica’s mother used to, and Veronica agreed with him. She was a lovely girl, Aoife; lovely. They’d a picnic with them. Jimmy Jr slagged Jimmy Sr because he wouldn’t sit on the grass cos he’d his new suit on him.

They had a few drinks in the Park Lodge Hotel after the zoo. It was nice in there, after Jimmy Jr got them to turn the telly down. When they were thinking of going home Jimmy Sr ordered a taxi for them, and they went home that way, in style.

— Honk the horn, said Jimmy Sr when your man, the taxi driver, was stopping at their gate.

— Do not, said Veronica.

They all got out while Jimmy Sr settled up with the taxi fella; eight fuckin’ quid, but he said nothing, just handed it over to him. It was only money. He made sure he got the right change back off him though. Then he gave him fifty pence.

— There yeh go, said Jimmy Sr. — Buy yourself a hat.

Jimmy Jr wanted to give him half the taxi fare.

— Fuck off ou’ o’ tha’, said Jimmy Sr. — Put it back in your pocket.

— Are yeh sure?

—’Course I’m sure.

He spoke quieter now.

— I remember when I was skint an’ you helped me ou’; I remember tha’.

— Can I have it back? said Jimmy Jr.

They laughed up the hall, into the kitchen, and they wouldn’t tell the women what they were laughing about.

It was past midnight, and hectic — mad. They were sliding all over the place but they’d no time to wipe the floor. They were used to it by now, like sailors. Sharon was with them tonight and even she was sweating through her clothes.

— My Jaysis, said Jimmy Sr.

He was getting ready to say what he wanted to say. Himself and Bimbo were at the fryer and the hotplate trying to keep up with Sharon as she called the orders back to them. Bimbo was chasing an onion ring that kept ducking away from the tongs.

Jimmy Sr wiped his brow with his arm.

— D‘yeh know wha’? he said.

Here went.

He chuckled first so it would sound right, half a joke.

— This place should be called Bimbo and Jimmy’s Burgers, he said.

— No, said Bimbo, very — too fuckin’ quickly.

Jimmy Sr’s heart was pounding.

— It wouldn’t sound righ’, said Bimbo.

— Yeah, Jimmy Sr agreed with him. — You’re righ’.

— Too long, said Bimbo.

— Exactly, said Jimmy Sr. — I wasn’t serious—

— know tha’,—still—

— No, you’re righ’.

— You’ve been great pals for years, said Veronica.

Jimmy Sr nodded.

That was true. Still was.

He nodded again.

— You should try to make sure that it stays that way, said Veronica. — The two of you.

Jimmy Sr kind of laughed.

— Don’t worry, love, he said. — Anyway, it’s not Bimbo really — I don’t know. It’s her.

Veronica said nothing.

Darren got out of the way just in time. Jimmy Sr was carrying a brown bag that was already soggy; the arse was going to fall out of it. He’d got his timing wrong; he’d stuck the cod and the spice-burger into the bag but when he went to get the chips there were none left, so while he was putting a new batch into the fryer and waiting for them the cod had got out of the batter and was soaking the bottom of the bag. But he hadn’t time to change it. It was getting mad outside again, and it wasn’t even dark yet; small gangs of kids had a way of making it seem like they were big gangs of kids. There were only about six waiting to be served but they were all shouting at the same time, and pushing and changing their positions. It was another hot airless bastard of a night, worse than last night.

— Two cods, a spice, three large, Jimmy Sr checked with the young ones who’d ordered them.

— Yeah, she said, like she’d been waiting all day for them.

He slammed in the salt and vinegar and closed the bag.

— A single an’ a—

— Wait your turn! said Jimmy Sr.

He turned to Darren and Bimbo.

— One o’ yis get over here.

He turned back to the young one.

— There, he said, and he handed her the bag.

— I’m not takin’ tha’, she said.

— What’s your problem? said Jimmy Sr.

— The bag, said the young one. — It’ll burst before I get it home to me house.

Jimmy Sr couldn’t argue with her; she was right.

— Jesus wept!

He turned to get another bag and bumped into Bimbo. There was no damage done.