Roddy Doyle - The Snapper

— You’ve a great memory.

— Nowadays the husbands are there with the women, said Jimmy Sr. — That’s much better, I think. I’d—

He scratched his leg.

— Because he can hold her hand an’ help her, an’ encourage her, yeh know, an’ see his child bein’ born.

There wasn’t even a car going past. The pipes upstairs weren’t making any noise.

— Sharon, I’ll — Only if yeh want now — I wouldn’t mind stayin’ with you when — you’re havin’ it.

— Ah no.

— Okay.

* * *

— Stop pushin’ her, will yeh!

Sharon and Jackie were in Howth, on stools at the bar. It was busy and getting busier.

— I’m tryin’ to get tha’ prick of a barman to serve me, said the young fella in the black polo neck and glowing dandruff who’d pushed Sharon’s back. He was wedged between Sharon and one of the poles that held up the ceiling, on his toes and clicking his fingers.

— Look at her condition, will yeh, said Jackie.

He did, still clicking his fingers.

— She doesn’t look tha’ bad, he said.

— She’s pregnant, yeh fuckin’ sap.

— Fuck, sorry!

— Yeah; so yeh should be. — I’ll get the barman for yeh. Raymond!

Raymond was there before she’d finished calling him.

— Yeah?

— He wants yeh.

— Oh. — Yeah?

— He fancies yeh, said Sharon.

— I know, said Jackie. — He nearly dribbles all over me. Did yeh see him there? His fuckin’ tongue was hangin’ ou’.

She copied Raymond.

— Yeah? Yeah? Yeah?

Sharon laughed.

— Ah stop. He’s not tha’ bad.

— I suppose he isn’t. He’s still a spa though.

Sharon laughed again.

— You’re a terrible fuckin’ wagon, Jackie. — I’m pissed.

— So am I, said Jackie. — Raymond!

— Yeah?

— Same again, chicken.

— Yeah.

He ran over to the optics.

— Yeah, said Jackie.

She lifted herself up a bit so she could see all of Raymond.

— He’s got a nice arse on him all the same.

She sat down again.

— Pity abou’ the rest of him.

— I’m pissed, Jackie, said Sharon.

— So am I, said Jackie.

Sharon looked down.

— I shouldn’t be doin’ this.

— Wha’?

— Drinkin’.

— Ah, don’t be thick, Sharon. Yeh need to get pissed now an’ again. There’s no harm in it.

— Yeah, said Sharon.

She tried to sit up.

— Thank you, Raymond, said Jackie. — You’re the best little barman in the world.

— An’ the best lookin’, said Sharon.

— Oh def’ny, said Jackie.

Raymond grinned and blushed and dropped tenpence into Jackie’s glass, and decided not to try and get it out after he’d already put two of his fingers into the vodka.

— I want another one, said Jackie. — I’m not takin’ tha’.

— Okay, said Raymond. — Sorry abou’ tha’.

He went over to the optics, got the tenpence out, filled a new glass, but left it on the counter and brought Jackie back her old one.

— There, he said.

— Thank you, Raymond. I’ll have my change now. If you don’t mind.

— Oh yeah.

Sharon couldn’t stop laughing. Her hand shook when she poured the Coke in on top of the vodka.

— Thank you very much, Raymond, said Jackie when Raymond came back with the tenpence. — Better late than never.

Sharon pushed the tears off her nose.

— Is me mascara alrigh’? she asked.

— Ah yeah, said Jackie. — Yeh’d want to be lookin’.

— Me back’s fuckin’ killin’ me. We shouldn’t’ve sitten here. I need somethin’ to lean against.

— The pole, said Jackie.

— Yeah, said Sharon.

She came down off her stool.

— Jesus! — God, I’m pissed, d’yeh know tha’.

She straightened up.

— Jesus.

She picked up the stool.

–’Xcuse me. Out o’ me way.

She shoved the stool between the bar and a man who was waiting at it, and reached the pole. Jackie followed her. They got back onto the stools. Sharon leaned back. The pole was cold through her clothes.

— That’s lovely.

— What’re YOU lookin’ at? Jackie asked a spotty young fella.

— Nothin’!

— Better not be. — Where’s me drink? Jesus, I’m finished already.

— My turn, said Sharon.

She knocked back the rest of hers.

— You call him, okay? she said to Jackie.

— Raymond!

— Same again?

— Yeah, said Jackie. — Yeah.

— Oh fuh-fuck, said Sharon. — I’ve got the hic-coughs.

She put her hand on her chest, to feel for any approaching hiccups.

— Jesus, I’m scuttered. — They’re gone.

— Wha’?

— The hi-hi — Fuck it, they’re back.

There was a new song on the jukebox.

— Oh, I love this one, said Jackie.

— Yeah, said Sharon. — He’s a ride, isn’t he?

— He is, yeah, said Jackie. — A riyed! I’d love to dig me nails—

— Talkin’ abou’ rides, lo-look who’s behind yeh, Jackie. Don’t turn.

But she’d turned already.

— Where?

— There.

— Where!

— There. Look it, yeh blind bitch. Beside your woman.

— Who is it? — Oh Jesus Christ!

It was Greg, Jackie’s ex, the fella she’d blown out in the ILAC Centre because the cream in his eclair had gone missing.

Jackie turned back and faced the bar.

— Is he lookin’ this way?

— Yeah, said Sharon. — He’s seen yeh. Oh Jesus, he’s comin’ over, Jackie.

— I won’t talk to him, I don’t care. I fuckin’ won’t.

— He’s takin’ somethin’ ou’ of his trousers. Oh my God, Jackie!

Jackie had copped on by now. She turned and saw the back of Greg’s head way over on the other side of the lounge.

— You’re a fuckin’ cunt, Rabbitte.

She hoped she hadn’t sounded too disappointed. She laughed with Sharon, just in case.

— I think I’m goin’ to be sick, said Sharon.

Her face was really white.

— Oh Jesus, said Jackie. — Come on.

She slid off her stool.

Sharon shook her head.

— I won’t make it.

She grabbed her bag from the counter. She unclasped and opened it quickly. It wasn’t a big bag but she got as much of her head as she could into it; her chin, her mouth and her nose. Then she puked. It was a quick rush of vodka and Coke and a few little things. Then up with her head and she shut the bag.

Jackie gave her a paper hankie. She wiped her mouth and opened the bag a bit and threw the tissue in on top of the vodka and the rest. She held the bag up.

— It should hold, she said. — I’ll bring it ou’ and empty it in a minute.

They both laughed. Sharon felt much better already. She gave herself a test burp: grand; there was no taste off it or anything.

— Did annyone see me? she said.

— Yeah, said Jackie. — I think so. Your man there, look. He was lookin’ at yeh.

— Him? Specky Features? I wouldn’t mind him.

— You were very fast, said Jackie.

— There wasn’t tha’ much, said Sharon.

They drank to it. The vodka put up no fight going down. Sharon relaxed. She dropped the bag onto the floor.

— Squelch, said Jackie.

— I’m fuckin’ pissed.

— Hiyis.

Mary Curran was standing between them.

— Mary! said Jackie. — Howyeh.

— Hiyis, said Mary. — Haven’t seen yis in ages.

— Yeh saw me a few weeks ago, said Sharon.

— When, Sharon?

— You know fuckin’ well when, Mary. In Dunnes with Yvonne.

— I didn’t see yeh, Sharon.

— Yeh did so.

— I didn’t Sharon; when?

— Ah, who cares when? said Jackie. — Yeh see each other now, don’t yis?