Roddy Doyle - The Van

— Good consistent pints, he said. — So far anyway.

— Very good, yeah.

They were in the Palace, standing up against the wall, near the door cos there was no room further in. The women were a disappointment, not what he’d imagined. They were hippyish, scrawny women. He’d expected a bit of glitter; not in Mulligans — they’d gone in there strictly for the pints — but in the other ones. That was why they were in the Palace now, in town, in their suits. Jimmy Sr wanted something to happen. Maybe they should have gone to Howth. Still though, it was good to be just out, with Bimbo, away from everything.

— Yeh finished? he said to Bimbo.

— Are we goin’ already?

— This place isn’t up to much. Yeh righ’?

— Okay, said Bimbo. — You’re the boss.

That’s right, Jimmy Sr thought while he waited for Bimbo to get the last of his pint into his mouth; I am the boss.

It had always been that way.

They went outside and it was nice and cool.

— This way, said Jimmy Sr.

Jimmy Sr had always been the one who’d made the decisions, who’d mapped out their weekends for them. Jimmy Sr would say, See yeh in the Hikers after half-twelve mass, and Bimbo would be there. Jimmy Sr would put down Bimbo’s name to play pitch and putt and Bimbo would go off and play. Jimmy Sr had rented the pair of caravans in Courtown a couple of years back and the two families had gone down in a convoy and stayed there for the fortnight.

— Where’re we goin’ now? said Bimbo.

— Somewhere different, said Jimmy Sr. — Wait an’ see.

— I’m dyin’ for a piddle.

— Fuck off complainin’.

There were huge crowds out, lots of kids — they were on Grafton Street now — big gangs of girls outside McDonalds. Not like the young ones in Barrytown; these young ones were used to money. They were confident, more grown up; they shouted and they didn’t mind being heard — they wanted to be heard. They had accents like newsreaders. They’d legs up to their shoulders. Jimmy Sr did a rough count; there were only about three of them that weren’t absolutely gorgeous.

This was more like it.

— There aren’t any pubs up here, are there?

— Shut up.

Bimbo wanted to get out; Jimmy Sr could tell. He was murdering the Budweiser, guzzling and belching at the same time to get rid of it so they could go. Jimmy Sr wasn’t going anywhere yet though. He hated this place, and liked it. It was crazy; himself and Bimbo were the only two men in here who needed braces to hold up their trousers and they were the only two not wearing them. They were also the only two that weren’t complete and utter fuckin’ eejits, as far as he could see. There was lots of loud laughing, at fuck all. The women though — not all of them that young either.

The crowd kind of shuffled and there was a pair of women beside Bimbo and Jimmy Sr, by themselves. Jimmy Sr nudged Bimbo.

— I don’t like your one, he told Bimbo, although he did like her.

— Wha’? said Bimbo.

— Your women there, said Jimmy Sr.

— What abou’ them?

— Back me up, said Jimmy Sr. — Howyeh, he said to the one nearest him.

— Oh, she said. — Hi, and they climbed back into the crowd, the two of them, the wagons.

— Stuck-up brassers, said Jimmy Sr. — One o’ them was as bandy as fuck, did yeh notice?

But it was a start; he felt great.

He grinned at Bimbo.

— Wha’ did yeh think of your women? he said.

— Wha’d’yeh mean?

— Don’t start. Did yeh like them?

Bimbo was squirming.

— Did yeh?

— Eh — they were nice enough—

— Nice enough? If — if Sophia Loren came up to yeh an’ stuck her diddies in your face would you say tha’ she was nice enough?

But he was happy enough.

A woman about his own age bumped into him.

— Mind yourself, love, he said.

— Sorry.

— No problem.

And she was gone but no matter. All he needed was a bit of practice. If she came back in an hour or so he’d get off with her no problem. Not that he’d want to get off with her. Or anyone really. He was just messing; seeing if he could click with a woman if he wanted to. He looked around.

— Over here, he said to Bimbo.

— Why? said Bimbo, but he followed Jimmy Sr. He didn’t want to be left alone.

If all Jimmy Sr’d wanted to do was get a woman behind a wall and feel her up or even ride her he wouldn’t have come all the way into town; there were plenty of women in Barrytowm who’d have come behind the clinic with him; all he’d have to have done was buy them a few bottles of Stag and listen to their problems for a while and tell them that they were still good-looking women when they started crying. He knew them all, and some of them were still good-looking women. But he’d never even been tempted, and not because he’d have been afraid of being caught.

They were in the middle of the crowd now, not at the edge.

What he wanted was to see if he could manage a young one or one of these glamorous, rich-looking, not-so-young ones. He’d back off once he knew it was on the cards; actually getting his hole wasn’t what he was after at all — he just wanted to know if he could get his hole.

— D’yeh want another drink, here, Jimmy? Bimbo asked him.

Maybe just the once he’d like to get the leg over one of these kind of women, only the once, in a hotel room or in her apartment, and then he’d be satisfied. Jimmy Sr had never been in a hotel room.

—’Course I do, Jimmy Sr said to Bimbo.

— Here though?

— Yeah, here. — Only one more, righ’?

Bimbo nodded and slipped through to the bar.

Jimmy Sr smiled at a woman, over a little fella’s shoulder. She smiled back quickly, just in case she knew him. Jimmy Sr waited for her to look over his way again, but she didn’t. She was about forty but she was wearing a mini-skirt. The little fella must have been worth a fortune.

Bimbo was back.

— It’s robbery in here, he said.

— You pay for the style, Jimmy Sr told him.

— Not after I’ve finished this I don’t.

— Okay, okay. — Watch it; brassers at six o’ clock!

— Wha’?

— Howyeh, girls. D’yis need a drink?

They walked straight past him. They mustn’t have known he was talking to them. They must have though; he spoke straight at them.

— Fuckin’ bitches, he said. — Look at her. Her; your woman. With your man over there.

— Oh yeah.

— She’s fuckin’ gorgeous, isn’t she?

— Yeah.

— She’s got real bedroom eyes, said Jimmy Sr.

She was lovely looking alright.

— Yeah, said Bimbo.

— Bedroom eyes, said Jimmy Sr again. — An’ a jacks mouth.

They laughed.

Bimbo’s Budweiser was nearly gone.

— Are we goin’? he said.

— Yeah, said Jimmy Sr. — Okay.

Bimbo looked at his watch. It was after eleven.

— I could do with a proper pint, he said.

— Good thinkin’ Batman, said Jimmy Sr. — Come on.

— D‘yeh know how yeh click with women like tha’? said Jimmy Sr.

— How?

— Money.

— Ah yeah.

It was good to be back in a real pub.

Bimbo got two very healthy-looking pints and Jimmy Sr got two more immediately because it was coming up to closing time and Jimmy Jr had warned him that the city centre pubs were fuckers for shutting down on the dot of half-eleven.

They took over two low stools at a table.

— Yeah, said Jimmy Sr. — Nine ou’ o’ ten women, if they had the choice between money an’ looks, they’d go for the money.

— What abou’ Maggie an’ Veronica?

— Not women like Maggie an’ Veronica, said Jimmy Sr. — I’m not talkin’ abou’ women like tha’. Ordinary women, if yeh know what I mean.