Roddy Doyle - The Snapper

Can’t expect them all to be green, I suppose.

He slowed the car, then gripped Sharon’s hand.

— Good girl. It’s only the oul’ cervix dilatin’.—It could happen to a bishop, wha’.

He got the car going again.

— Here, Sharon. Look it; here’s me watch. Yeh can time the contractions so you’ll be able to tell them when we get there. They’ll be impressed. — Oh, God help yeh. Sit back, Sharon, good girl. Take deep breaths, good girl. Good deep breaths. That’s wha’ I always do, wha’.

He was going to turn on the radio.

— Let’s listen to Jimmy.

— He’d be over by now.

— Ah well. He was very good, wasn’t he? — Did yeh time tha’ one, Sharon?

— Ye-yeah. — Thirty-seven seconds, — abou’.

— That’s grand, said Jimmy Sr. — Nearly there now. Summerhill, look it. Straight down now an’ we’re there. Green again up here, look it.

— Yeah.

— That’s great. Is it God or the Corporation, would yeh say?

–

— Tha’ place has changed its name again, look it.

— Good girl, sit back. Good girl. Deep breaths. — Get ou’ of me way, yeh fuckin’—! Gobshite; I should have run over him. The thick head on him, did yeh see it? Good girl. — Here we are, Sharon, look.

* * *

The nurse, the nice one, wiped Sharon’s face.

— Th-thanks. — Will it hurt anny more?

— Not really, love. We’re nearly there now.

— How long more—

— Quiet, Sharon. Come on; breathe with me. — In—

The breath became a gasp and a scream as Sharon let go of it.

— No, Sharon. Don’t push! — It’s too early; don’t—

She wiped Sharon’s face.

— Don’t push yet, Sharon.

Sharon gasped again.

— When!?

— In a little while. — In — Out—

Sharon had to scream again, and gulp back air.

— It — it hurt more.

— Not much.

— Yes, much! Jeeesus!

* * *

They were all in the hall, watching Veronica, waiting. She was taking ages.

— Ah no, she said. — Ah no; the poor thing.

She wouldn’t look at them.

— Is she alright? — Will you come home now?

— Get a taxi, Jimmy. You must be exhausted.

— That’s terrible. — Okay. In a while. Bye bye, love.

She put the phone down, and turned to them.

— A girl, she said.

— Yeow!

— Alive? said Darren.

He was crying.

— Yes!

— I thought — The way you were talkin’—

He started laughing.

The twins hugged Darren and Jimmy Jr and Veronica and Larrygogan. Les was out.

— What’ll we call her? said Linda.

Veronica laughed.

— Hey, Larrygogan, said Tracy. — We’ve a new sister.

— She’s not your sister, said Jimmy.

— Why?

— You’re her auntie, he told her.

— Am I? Janey!

— So am I then, said Linda.

— That’s righ’, said Jimmy.

— I’m tellin’ Nicola ’Malley, said Linda. — She thinks she’s great just cos her ma lets her bring her sister to the shops. — Come on, Tracy.

They were gone.

— Well, Darren, said Veronica. — Do you like being an uncle?

— Ah yeah, said Darren. — It’s brilliant.

* * *

Sharon was able to look at her in the crib there without having to lift her head. That was nice.

There she was, asleep; red, blotched, shrivelled and gorgeous; all wrapped up. Tiny. And about as Spanish looking as—

She didn’t care.

She was gorgeous. And hers.

She was fuckin’ gorgeous.

Georgina; that was what she was going to call her.

They’d all call her Gina, but Sharon would call her George. And they’d have to call her George as well. She’d make them.

— Are yeh alrigh’, love?

It was the woman in the bed beside Sharon. — Yeah, said Sharon. — Thanks; I’m grand. She lifted her hand — it weighed a ton — and wiped her eyes.

— Ah, said the woman. — Were yeh cryin’?—No, said Sharon. — I was laughin’.