Roddy Doyle - The Snapper

Sharon was fair. Mister Burgess was — pink and white. His hair was like dirty water.

Maybe she should have said it was a Swedish sailor.

Too late now.

She’d have to start eating polish or something. She grinned although she didn’t really feel like it. The shampoos were done and now she crossed the aisle to the soap.

— Fuck it annyway.

The Palmolives were nearly all gone and Simple section was empty. She’d have to fill them and that meant she’d have to bend down.

* * *

It wasn’t fair on the lads either, Jimmy Sr told Bimbo at his gate a few nights later, after closing time.

— I should stay at home maybe.

— Don’t be thick, said Bimbo.

Jimmy Sr reckoned they’d been talking about him. He knew it. Nothing surer. Let’s be nice to Jimmy. He’s having it rough. Don’t mention babies or Burgess or Sinbad the fuckin’ Sailor. It was terrible. He’d had a good one tonight about a young lad getting up on an oul’ one but he couldn’t tell it. They’d have laughed too loud.

— They’re just bein’, eh, considerate, said Bimbo. — It’ll pass.

— I suppose you’re righ’, said Jimmy Sr. — But I felt like a leper tonigh’ the way they were smilin’ at me.

— Bertie an’ Paddy wouldn’t smile at a leper, Jimmy. Cop on now. They just see that you’re not the best these days so — It’ll pass. It’ll pass. They’re just bein’ nice.

— I don’t like them nice. I prefer them the other way; bollixes. — Did yeh see the way the other shower were gawkin’ over at me?

— Ah Jaysis, Jimmy. — You’re not startin’ to get sorry for yourself, are yeh?

— Go home to bed, you.

— I will.

He yawned.

— Nigh’ now, Jim.

— Good luck.

— See yeh.

Jimmy Sr had chips for Veronica but they were cold so he ate them on the step, looking across at the Burgess’s, and then he went in.

* * *

It was Thursday night and Sharon was going upstairs after work. Jimmy Jr was coming down.

— Howyeh, Larry, said Sharon.

— Ah, don’t start, Sharon.

— How’s the practice goin’?

— Shite, to be honest with yeh. The tape sounds woeful. I sound like a fuckin’ harelip. — I’m thinkin’ o’ gettin’ elocution lessons.

Sharon screamed.

— You!

— Yeah; why not. Don’t tell Da, for fuck sake.

Sharon laughed. Jimmy grinned.

— It’d be worth it, he said, still grinning.

— How much?

— Don’t know. I’m only thinkin’ about it. Don’t tell him but; righ’?

— Don’t worry, said Sharon.

Sharon had asked about him and listened so Jimmy thought he’d better ask about her, and listen.

— How are yeh yourself an’ annyway? he said.

— Grand.

— Gettin’ big, wha’. He nodded at her belly.

— Yeah, said Sharon.

— Does it hurt?

— No! — I do exercises for the extra weight an’ tha’.

— Yeah?

— Yeah. Sometimes only.

— Nothin’ wrong then?

— No. Not really.

— D’yeh get sick?

— No. Not annymore.

— That’s good. I was in bits meself this mornin’.

— Were yeh?

— Yeah. The oul’ rum an’ blacks, yeh know.

— Oh Jesus.

— I know. Never again. I puked me ring; Jesus. And me lungs. The oul’ fella was battenn’ the door. — Come here, d’yeh eat annythin’ funny?

— No.

— I saw yeh eatin’ tha’ long stuff; what’s it — celery.

— That’s not funny.

— S’pose not. Never ate it.

— It’s nice.

— Mickah’s ma ate coal when she was havin’ him.

— Jesus!

— He says annyway. She said she used to nibble it when no one was lookin’.

— That’s gas—

Jimmy looked at his watch. It wasn’t there.

— Bollox! I’ve left me watch in work again.

— I’m goin’ to me check-up tomorrow, Sharon told him.

— Yeah?

— Yeah. Me second one, it is.

— That’s great. I’m—

— Not a complete physical this time. Thank God. It took fuckin’ ages the first time, waitin’. They even checked me heart to see if I have a murmur.

She didn’t know why she was telling Jimmy all this. She just wanted to.

— I’d a murmur once, said Jimmy. — But a lorry splattered it.

— Ha ha. Anyway, it’s at eleven.

— Wha’?

Sharon looked at the ceiling.

— Me antenatal check-up, yeh simple-head yeh.

— Oh yeah. That’s great.

He looked at where his watch usually was.

— Meetin’ the lads, yeh know. See yeh, righ’.

— Yeah. See yeh.

He stopped a few steps down.

— An’ come here, he said.

He was reddening a bit.

— Abou’ Burgess bein’ the da an’ tha’.

— He’s not!

— I know, I know tha’. No; I mean — IF he was.

— He’s not.

— I fuckin’ know. Will yeh shut up a minute. — There’s people tha’ still say he is, righ’.

He was getting red again.

— An’ they’ll prob’ly always say it. — I couldn’t give a shite who the da is. D’yeh know what I mean?

— Yeah. — Thanks.

— No; I wanted to say tha’. An’ the lads couldn’t give a fuck either.

Sharon grinned.

— Mickah says it’s great.

Sharon laughed.

— He says there’s hope for us all if fuckin’ Burgess can—

— Jimmy!

They laughed.

— Seriously, Jimmy, though, said Sharon. — They don’t really think it was him, do they?

— No, not really. It’s just, yeh know — funnier.

— Yeah.

— Good luck.

He had the door open.

— Jimmy.

— Wha’?

Sharon looked over the landing rail.

— How. Now. Brown. Cow.

— Fuck off, said Jimmy Jr. — You’re the only brown cow around here.

— Thanks very much!

* * *

— I’m not takin’ this, said Jimmy Sr.

He pushed his chair back and stood up and walked away, towards the bar.

— What’s he on abou’? Bimbo asked Bertie.

— Don’t know, compadre, said Bertie.

They got up to follow Jimmy Sr.

* * *

— These are reheats, Jackie complained, but she kept eating them.

— Mine aren’t too bad, said Sharon. — Look it. That’s a lovely one.

She held up a huge, healthy-looking chip.

— Come here, said Jackie. — I wouldn’t mind seein’ tha’ on a young fella.

— Jesus, Jackie!

They screamed laughing.

They were going across the Green to Jackie’s house. It hadn’t rained in ages so the ground was nice and hard.

— I shouldn’t be eatin’ these, said Sharon.

— Wha’ harm can they do yeh?

— They’re all fat an’ things. I don’t know; things that’ll clog me up, I can’t remember. — She asked me did I eat chips an’ tha’, your woman this mornin’.

— None of her fuckin’ business.

— Yeah. I said I didn’t. Ah, she’s nice though. She says I have the right kind o’ nipples.

— Lezzer.

— Ah stop; for breast feedin’. Me blood pressure’s grand.

— I’m very happy for yeh.

— Fuck off, you.

They got to Jackie’s gate.

— Come here, Jackie, said Sharon. — Did Yvonne say annythin’ else about me?

They’d been talking about Yvonne Burgess before they bought the chips.

— Only; she said you led him on.

— God, said Sharon. — Poor Yvonne. Still, I’ll break her head for her if I see her.

— Yeh know wha’ else though? said Jackie. — She said he paid yeh.

— He did, said Sharon.

Then she laughed.

Jackie looked at her, and then she laughed as well.