Roddy Doyle - The Van

— Wha’ d’yeh think he was doin’ there, for fuck sake? Bimbo ignored him.

— Excuse me, Bertie, he said. — Why were yeh in the disco bar?

— There was nowhere else, Bertie told him.

He waited.

— Wha’ d’yeh mean?

— There was nowhere else to go cos all the other canteenas were shut; comprende?

— No. Not really.

— I got into Limerick after—

— Limerick!?

— Si.

— Wha’ were yeh doin’ there?

— Ah now, said Bertie. — It’s a long story, an’ it doesn’t matter cos it’s got nothin’ to do with the disco bar.

— Yeah, but why were yeh in Limerick? Jimmy Sr asked him.

— You’re beginnin’ to annoy me, compadre, said Bertie.

— I was only askin’, said Jimmy Sr. — My round, lads.

— No, hang on, Jim, said Bimbo. — I’ll get this one.

— It’s my round but.

— You’re alrigh‘, said Bimbo. — Don’t worry ’bout it. Bimbo stood up so that Leo could see him.

— No, hang on, said Jimmy Sr. — Sit down.

— Not at all, said Bimbo. — You’re alrigh’.

— Sit down!

Bimbo didn’t know what to do.

— I’ll buy me own round, said Jimmy Sr. — Righ’?

People were looking over at them, and wanting something to happen. Leo was at the end of the bar, ready to jump in and save the glass.

Bimbo sat down.

— O’ course, Jim, he said. — No problem. I just — Sorry.

— You’re alrigh’, said Jimmy Sr.

He patted Bimbo’s leg.

— Sorry for shoutin’ at yeh, he said. — But I’ll pay me own way, alrigh’.

— Yeh’d better, said Bertie.

Jimmy Sr smiled.

— Sorry, Jimmy, said Bimbo. — I didn’t mean—

— No, Jimmy Sr stopped him.

He stood up.

— Three nice pints here, Leo!

He had a look at his watch on his way back down: he was safe; there wouldn’t be time for another full round.

— Wha’ were yeh doin’ in a shaggin’ disco bar? Bimbo asked Bertie. — Of all places.

— He told yeh, said Jimmy Sr.

— No, said Bimbo. — He didn’t; not really. He only said he was in Limerick.

— Correction, said Bertie. — I told yeh, there was nowhere else to go to.

— Why was tha’?

— Jesus, he’s thick, Jimmy Sr told Bertie.

— Everywhere else was shut, Bertie told Bimbo. — By the time I got my burro corralled an’ I’d thrown a bit of water on me face an’ dusted me poncho it was past closin’ time; comprende?

— Yeah, said Bimbo.

— So, said Bertie. — There was this disco bar in the hotel—

— Did yeh stay in a hotel? Jimmy Sr asked him.

— Si.

— Jaysis, wha’.

— Nothin’ but the best, said Bertie.

— Was it dear?

— Twenty-six quid.

— Are yeh serious? said Bimbo. — For the one night only?

— Oh, si.

— My God, said Bimbo. — Breakfast?

— Ah, yeah, said Bertie. — ’Course.

— Was it one o’ them continental ones, Bertie? Jimmy Sr asked him.

— Fuck, no, said Bertie. — I speet on your continental breakfast. A fry.

— Lovely, said Bimbo. — Was it nice?

— Atrigh’, said Bertie.

— That’s gas, said Bimbo. — Isn’t it?

— Wha’? said Jimmy Sr.

— Bertie bein’ in a hotel.

— I still want to know wha’ he was doin’ in fuckin’ Limerick, said Jimmy Sr.

— Now, Leo shouted from the bar.

— That’s me, said Jimmy Sr.

He was up and over to the bar in a second.

— Wha’ was it like, an’annyway? Bimbo asked Bertie.

— What’s tha’?

— The disco bar.

— Oh, tha’. Grand. It wasn’t too bad at all.

Jimmy Sr was back.

— Get rid o’ some o’ them glasses there, Bimbo, will yeh. Good man.

He lowered the pints onto the table.

— Look at them now, wha’.

— Tha’ man’s a genius, said Bimbo.

— Si, said Bertie.

— How come they let yeh in? Bimbo asked Bertie.

— What’s this? said Jimmy Sr.

— The disco bar.

— Oh, yeah.

— I was a guest, compadre, Bertie told Bimbo. — I was entitled to get in.

— Is tha’ righ’?

— Si. I made a bit of an effort.

He held the collar of his shirt for a second.

— Know wha’ I mean?

— Yeh brasser, yeh, said Jimmy Sr.

— Fuck off, you, said Bertie. — I’ll tell yeh one thing. It works.

— Wha’?

— Makin’ the effort. Dressin’ up.

Jimmy Sr made his face go sceptical.

— I’d say it does alrigh’, he said.

— I’m tellin’ yeh, said Bertie.

— Maybe, said Jimmy Sr.

Bimbo was a bit lost.

— He’s tryin’ to tell us he got off with somethin’, Jimmy Sr told him.

— Ah no, said Bimbo. — You’re jokin’.

— He is, o’ course, said Jimmy Sr.

— I’m sayin’ nothin’, said Bertie.

Bimbo was looking carefully at Bertie, making sure that he was only messing. Bimbo didn’t like that sort of thing; Bertie was married. But he thought he was having them on; he could tell from Bertie’s face, looking around him like he’d said nothing. He was definitely codding them.

Bertie caught Bimbo looking at him.

— A big girl, she was, he told him.

— Ah, get ou’ of it, said Bimbo.

Jimmy Sr was looking at Bertie as well. He was the same age as Bertie, a few years older only. Bertie hadn’t got off with any young one in Limerick; he could tell. But he kept looking.

Jimmy Sr was having problems with one of his laces. The knot was tiny and his fingernails weren’t long enough to get at it properly. He’d have to turn the light on; he could hardly feel the knot now it was so small. He’d no nails left either, all bitten to fuck.

— Christ!

He didn’t roar it or anything, but it exploded out. And he threw his head up because his neck felt like it was going to burst. He was sitting on the bed, bent over.

His nails usen’t to be like this.

He tried to pull the fuckin’ shoe off. His neck was getting sorer. He shut his eyes.

— Is that you?

Now he’d woken Veronica.

— Can’t get me fuckin’ poxy shoe off.

But it was good that she’d woken up. He slumped, then stretched and rubbed his neck.

— Sorry, he said.

— How was it?

— Grand.

— How are all the lads?

She always said Lads like they were kids, like he went out to play with them.

— Grand, he said. — Bimbo was askin’ for yeh.

— And what did you tell him?

— Eh—

That was a hard one.

— I said yeh were fine, said Jimmy Sr.

— Did you cross your fingers when you said it?

— Ah, Veronica.

— Ah, Jimmy.

It was alright; she wasn’t getting at him.

— I’ll have to get into bed with the fuckin’ shoe on; look.

Veronica sat up and turned on the lamp beside her.

— What’s wrong? she said.

— Me shoe; look it.

She looked.

— Can you not tie your laces properly yet?

And she put his foot in her lap and got going on the knot. He nearly fell off the bed turning for her.

— You’re useless, she said. — You really are.

For a split second he was going to straighten his leg quick and put his foot in her stomach, the way she spoke to him like that; for a split second only. Not really.

— There.

She had it done already.

It was nice as well sometimes, being mothered by Veronica.

— Thanks very much, he said.

He got up with the rest of them in the mornings, even though he didn’t have to; got dressed and all. Only Darren and the twins had to get out of the house early these days, and not that early because the school was only up the road, but it was still mad in the kitchen. He liked it though. He knew chaps that wouldn’t bother their arses getting up, and wives as well who stayed in bed and let their kids get themselves off to school. He wasn’t like that.