Roddy Doyle - The Snapper

— Yeah — Well—

— Jesus, Sharon, sorry.

— Yeah. — Sorry for shoutin’ at yeh.

— Your hair’s lovely, Mary, said Jackie.

— Yeah, said Sharon.

— Thanks. How are yeh, Sharon, an’ annyway?

— Alrigh’, said Sharon. — Grand.

— She’s pissed, said Jackie.

— Fuck off, you. I am not.

— You look fabulous, Mary told Sharon.

— Thanks.

— When’re yeh due?

— Monday.

— Jesus, that’s brilliant.

— But it’ll be late prob’ly.

— Yeh must be thrilled, are yeh?

— Ah yeah.

They were struggling, but they tried.

— Who’re yeh with, Mary? said Sharon.

— A fella.

— Who?

— You know him, Jackie. Greg.

Sharon looked at Jackie.

— Does he still like eclairs? said Jackie.

— Pardon?

— Nothin’. Tell him I was askin’ for him, will yeh.

— Yeah. — I’d better go back.

— Yeah. See yeh, Mary.

— See yeh, Jackie. See yeh, Sharon. I’ll come in to see yeh when you’re in the hospital.

— Thanks. See yeh.

— See yeh, Mary. Bye bye. — Yeh fuckin’ cow yeh.

She’s a titless bitch, isn’t she?

They laughed.

— I never liked her, said Jackie.

— Jesus, I’m pissed.

— My turn, said Jackie. — Raymond!

— Yeah? Same again?

— S’il vous plait.

— Yeah.

— Yeah. — Wha’ did yeh think of her fuckin’ hair?

Sharon slid off the stool, and nearly fell.

— I’m goin’ home, she said.

— Are yeh alrigh’?

— Yeah, I think — I’d better go home.

Jackie picked up their bags.

— Come on, she said.

* * *

She was afraid to close her eyes. She didn’t want to get sick again. She was glad she was home. She wouldn’t go out again, even if the baby was weeks late.

Even in the taxi, before it moved even, she knew that nothing was going to happen. But she didn’t tell Jackie that. She just wanted to get home. She’d sort of panicked; thought she’d felt something, a real contraction or something, and the heat and the smoke and the crowds got to her and she had to get out of the pub and come home. She’d been sick twice since she got home but she wasn’t going to be again. As well as that though, she’d wanted to go to the toilet really badly, like she had the runs, but she hadn’t gone nearly as much as she thought she’d needed to but she still felt like she wanted to go, and that was supposed to be a sign that the labour would be starting soon, so it was just as well that she was here at home.

Could it start when you were asleep? she wondered. She’d wake up. Wouldn’t she? Anyway, she didn’t think she’d be able to sleep. She was terrified.

She’d felt better the minute she got into the taxi. The driver had been nice, telling them he was going to charge them for three because of the size of Sharon. And Jackie told him to hurry up or he’d be charging for three alright, and paying for the cleaning. It’d been nice. And then when Sharon opened her bag to pay him!.

She wished she’d someone to talk to.

It was going to hurt. Jesus, it was like waiting to be stabbed, knowing for definite you were going to be, but not when, only soon. It wasn’t fair. It was cruel. She’d never do this to anyone.

* * *

— They’re a bit smelly, Jimmy Sr admitted. — But they’re not too bad.

He threw the jerseys on the floor.

— Are yeh alrigh’, Sharon?

— Yeah.

— Sure?

— Yeah!

— Are yeh constipated at all?

— Lay off, Daddy, will yeh.

— Fair enough. I was only askin’.

— Well, don’t.

— Tea, said Jimmy Sr.

He went over to the kettle and looked at it. — You get the water from the tap, said Veronica, who’d just come in. — Ha ha, said Jimmy Sr. He put the kettle under the tap, and sang.

— OH YEH-HESS—

I’M THE GREAT PRE-TE-HENDER—

DO DOO — DO DOO — DO—

The twins came barging in the back door. They had their dancing dresses on under their anoraks.

— There’s the girls, said Jimmy Sr. — How ’d yis get on, girls?

— We didn’t come last, Tracy told them.

— Course yeh didn’t, said Jimmy Sr. — We didn’t either. Darren, eh, acquitted himself very well. An’ buckled his wheel.

— Teresa Kelly’s shoe broke an’ she fell, said Linda.

— Yeah, said Tracy. — An’ she said somethin’ rude an’ they disqualified her.

— Yeah, an’ her ma dragged her—

— Mammy!

— Her mammy dragged her ou’ an’ yeh could hear her dress rippin’.

Jimmy Sr laughed. He switched the kettle on.

— There. — Poor Teresa.

— We hate her, said Linda.

— Course yeh do, said Jimmy Sr. — When’s the big one? Next week, is it?

— Yeah.

— We’ll all have to go to tha’.

— You’re not to, said Linda. — Only if yeh want to.

— You can hold our coats an’ our handbags, said Tracy.

— Thanks very much, said Jimmy Sr.

— What handbags? said Veronica.

— Missis McPartland says we’ve to have—

— No!

— Ah now, Veronica, said Jimmy Sr. — Maybe Santy’ll come a bit early.

— Ah, no way, said Linda. — I don’t want a handbag from Santy.

— We’ll see wha’ happens.

Sharon had gone upstairs for her radio. She had it ready.

— Listen, she said.

She turned it on. Alexander O’Neal was singing Fake.

— Wha’? said Jimmy Sr.

— Shut up an’ listen a minute, said Sharon.

Fake was ending. Then they heard him.

— THOT WAS OLEXONDER O’NEAL WITH FAKE. THERE’S NOTHIN’ FAKE ABOUT THIS ONE. HERE’S THE GODFATHER OF SOUL. — JAMES BROWN, YIS SIMPLEHEADS YIS.

James Brown sang Living in America. Sharon turned it down.

— Was tha’ Jimmy? said Jimmy Sr.

— Yeah, said Sharon.

— Was it, Sharon? said Tracy.

— Yeah.

— Janey.

— Jimmy on the radio.

— Wha’ station is it? Jimmy Sr asked.

— Radio 2, Sharon lied.

— Go ’way. Jimmy?

— Yeah. He’s fillin’ in for someone on their holidays.

— Go ’way. — Jimmy, wha’. Turn it up.

He listened to James Brown.

— We’re some family all the same, wha’.

He smiled at Veronica, and nodded at the radio.

— Cyclin’,—dancin’, DJin on the radio. Havin’ babies.

— Y’alrigh’, Sharon?

— Yeah—

She looked shocked, and scared.

— I think I’m startin’.

— Sure?

— Yeah. — Yeah.

— Up yeh go, girls, an’ get Sharon’s bag for her, said Jimmy Sr.

— Are yeh havin’ the baby, Sharon?

— Get up!

— And — Ah! — an’ me toothbrush, Tracy.

— ROIGHT. ROCKIN’ ROBBITTE COMIN’ AT YOUUU, FILLIN’ IN FOR LEE BRADLEY. HOW’S YOUR WEEKEND GOIN’?—TOUGH.

— We’re some family alrigh’, said Jimmy Sr.

He grinned at Sharon.

— Come on, Sharon.

— THIS ONE’S FOR ANTO AN’ GILLIAN WHO WERE SNARED BEHIND THE CLINIC LAST NIGHT BY FATHER MOLLOY. YEOW, ANTO!

Jimmy Sr was out starting the car, so he didn’t hear that bit.

* * *

— The lights are turnin’ green for us, look it, said Jimmy Sr.

— Yeah.

— That’s the second one. Must be a good sign, wha’.

— Yeah.

— Soon be over.

— Yeah.

— Don’t worry, love. — God, wait’ll yeh have it in your arms, wha’. Jaysis, women have all the luck. — Y’alrigh’?

— Yeah.

— Good girl. Don’t hold the handle so tight there, Sharon. You might fall ou’.

— Sorry.

— No problem. — Shite; they’ve turned red up here.