Roddy Doyle - The Van

— Will yeh watch where you’re fuckin’ goin’!

— You watch where you’re goin’ yourself, said Bimbo.

— Where’s Darren gone?

— Over to Flemings for water.

— He’s no use to us over there, said Jimmy Sr.

Bimbo took over at the hatch.

— Yourself, he said, pointing at a kid.

— Single.

— Annythin’ else?

— No.

— One single, Bimbo shouted over his shoulder, into Jimmy Sr’s face. — Sorry.

Jimmy Sr handed out the new bag to the young one.

— There now, he said. — Let’s see your money.

The young one looked under the bag before she handed over the pound coins, five of them. The coins were warm.

— Your hands are sweaty, Jimmy Sr told her.

— So’s your bollix, said the young one, and she just stood there waiting for her change, not a bother on her. She was only about twelve. She stared up at him.

They were all laughing outside.

He took twenty-five pence out of the box. He thought that that was what he owed her, he wasn’t sure.

— There, he said.

—‘Bou’ time, she said, and she shoved back, to get through the crowd.

She was replaced by a young fella with a pony tail.

— Righ’, Geronimo, said Jimmy Sr.

— Me name’s not—

— Okay, said Jimmy Sr. — Wha’ d’yeh want?

— Curry chips.

— We don’t do them.

— Why don’t yis?

— Our chips are too good, son, Jimmy Sr told him.

— Wha’?

— We wouldn’t insult our chips by ruinin’ them with tha’ muck, said Jimmy Sr. — They only use curry sauce cos their potatoes are bad, to hide the real taste. Now there’s some inside information for yeah.

He was beginning to feel better. Bimbo went back to the hotplate and the fryer. It was about time he did a bit of real work, instead of just hiding in the corner with the fish.

— So, said Jimmy Sr. — Will ordin‘y chips do yeh, or wha’?

— Okay, said the young fella. — They’d better be good though.

Jimmy leaned back and took a chip from the rack.

— How’s tha’ look? he said, and he held up the chip.

They all cheered. There were more of them outside now, about twenty, all of them kids.

— Yeow! Yeh man, yeh!

— They’re not chips! a high-pitched young fella in the crowd shouted. — They’re potato mickies!

— Gis a bag o’ them! said the young fella with the pony tail.

— One single! Jimmy roared back at Bimbo.

Darren was back, with three full milk bottles.

— Wha’ kept yeh? said Bimbo.

— I had to negotiate, Darren told him.

Jimmy Sr chose his next customer.

— You with the head, he said.

— A large an’ a dunphy.

— Large an’ a dunphy! Jimmy Sr roared.

— She was watchin’ Jake and the Fat Cunt when I rang the bell, Darren told Bimbo.

— Oh oh, said Bimbo.

Missis Fleming had cut off their water supply before, when Jimmy Sr rang the bell during Coronation Street and then knocked on the front-room window when she hadn’t answered fast enough for him. They’d had to buy her a box of Terry’s Moonlight chocolates, and get Maggie to deliver them, before she’d given them the right of way again.

— A large, a smoked an’ a spice! Jimmy Sr roared. — An’ hurry up with the large an’ the dunphy!

Darren filled a bag with chips and fished a spice-burger out of the fryer.

— He said a dunphy, Bimbo told him.

— It’s not for him, said Darren. — It’s for Missis Fleming.

He jumped out the back.

— Where’s he gone now? said Jimmy Sr. — For fuck sake. We can’t let that oul’ bitch hold us to ransom. Two large, a bun an’ a dunphy — Stop pushin’ there; you’ll turn us over.

He turned back to Bimbo.

— Why can’t she just get a key cut for us, like I said to her? — Two 7-Ups with tha’ last one, righ’.

Bimbo was struggling; he could tell.

Good.

Jimmy Sr lobbed in the salt and vinegar, closed the brown bag and handed it out to a young fella.

— One, eh, eighty.

— An’ a Twix, said the young fella.

Jimmy Sr got the Twix and went back to the hatch and the young fella’d fucked off without paying. They were all laughing outside. Jimmy Sr had to laugh as well.

— Did yeh see tha’? he asked Bimbo.

— Wha’?

— Mister Rabbitte; here — !

— No skippin’ the queue just cos yeh know me name.

— Fuck yeh.

— You’re barred.

— He’s after barrin’ Anto, said another young fella. — He’ll get his da after yeh, Mister Rabbitte.

— He can get his ma after me if he likes, said Jimmy Sr.

They cheered.

— Mind you, said Jimmy Sr. — His da’s better lookin’.

— Haaaa!

They were having a great time.

— He’!! definitely get his da now.

— Let him, said Jimmy Sr. — I’ll let the air ou’ of his wheelchair.

He turned to see what was keeping Bimbo. Bimbo was holding a spice-burger over two bags; he didn’t know which was which.

— D’yeh want to swap? said Jimmy Sr.

— No! said Bimbo. — No.—Yeah.

Jimmy Sr spoke to his customers.

— I’ll have to leave yis now, I’m afraid, he told them. — We’re a bit understaffed in the kitchen.

— Bye bye, Mister Rabbitte.

— Good luck now, said Jimmy Sr.

He made room for Bimbo.

— There yeh go, he said. — Make sure yeh get their money off them before yeh hand over the goods.

He’d enjoyed that, and the bit of fresh air coming through the hatch had done him the power of good. He slapped on a burger, for himself; he deserved it.

— Batter burger, large, Coke! Bimbo roared.

— I hear yeh, said Jimmy Sr.

He didn’t know how anyone could eat those batter burgers; they were disgusting. You could leave one of them swimming around in the fryer for hours and the meat would still be that pink colour and you’d want a chisel to get through the batter. You were dicing with death eating one of those things. Still, they were big though, very good value. He lowered it very carefully into the fat. It was like launching a ship.

Darren was back again.

— Is she happy now? Jimmy Sr asked him.

— Yeah, said Darren. — Sort of.

— Piss on her chips the next time, said Jimmy Sr.

He passed a brown bag back to Bimbo.

— Batter burger, large.

— A Coke as well, Bimbo reminded him.

— That’s righ’, said Jimmy Sr.

He bent down and got a can from under the hotplate, making sure that his head didn’t go too close to it. He wiped the grease off the can with Darren’s T-shirt and handed it to Bimbo.

— From the back o’ the fridge, he said.

— Two five, Darren told Bimbo.

— Two pound an’ fivepence, Bimbo told the young fella at the hatch.

— I’ve on’y two pounds, said the young fella.

Jimmy Sr took the bag from Bimbo when he heard that. He opened it, got the batter burger out and took a huge bite out of it, and let the rest of it drop back into the bag. He shut the bag, and shoved the chunk of batter burger over to the side of his mouth.

— Two pound, he managed to say, and held the bag out for the young fella.

— Jaysis!! Did yeh see wha’ he done!

Bimbo grabbed the bag from him.

— It’s all yours, said Jimmy Sr.

They went mad outside.

Jimmy Sr chewed the burger into manageable bits. It wasn’t that bad. He went back to his post and turned his burger. Darren was dipping the bits of cod into the fryer, to set the batter. He was laughing as well.

— That’s revoltin’, he told his da.

— They don’t taste tha’ bad, said Jimmy Sr, — if yeh don’t look at them first. Oh, I forgot but, you’re a vegetarian; that’s righ’. I suppose yeh think I’m a cannibal, Darren, do yeh?