The Barrytown Trilogy (41 page)

This morning Darren was coming out when Jimmy Sr got to the door.

—Howyeh, Darren.

—Howyeh.

—Y’alrigh’?

—Yeah.

—Good. Did yeh tidy up the blankets an’ stuff yet?

—Yeah.

—Good man.

He got out of Darren’s way and let him go into the kitchen first. Next he unlocked the back door and let Larrygogan in. The fuckin’ hound had a hole bored through the door nearly, from scraping at it every morning to get in, and whining. But Veronica never let him in; she didn’t seem to hear him. Jimmy Sr had watched her sometimes when the dog was crying and whining outside – it was fuckin’ terrible, like a baby being tortured or something – but Veronica didn’t notice it; he’d watched her.

When he opened the door the dog was all over him, hopping around him; thanking him, Jimmy Sr sometimes thought. The dog was no thick. He could nearly talk, the noises he made sometimes when he wanted a biscuit or a chip. He didn’t just growl; he had different growls that he used, depending on how badly he wanted something, and whimpers and other stuff as well. And sometimes he just looked at you – just looked – and you couldn’t help thinking of one of those starving kids in Africa. He was a great oul’ dog, Larrygogan was.

—Ah Christ!

His fuckin’ paws were wet, and dirty. He jumped at Jimmy Sr again. Jimmy Sr grabbed the dog’s legs just before they landed on his trousers.

—Get his towel, Darren, will yeh.

—Okay, said Darren.

Jimmy Sr looked out the open door while Darren was getting him the dog’s towel from under the sink. It was pissing out there, and cold. Not real wintery cold, but the stuff that got inside you and made every room in the house seem miserable, except the kitchen when it was full. The poor dog was wringing, like a drowned rat; half his normal size because his hair was all stuck to him. He barked. Then he shook himself. His back paws started slipping on the lino, so Jimmy Sr let go of his legs.

—Here.

Darren threw the towel to Jimmy Sr.

—Good man, said Jimmy Sr.

He opened the towel – it was manky but dry – and got ready to dry the dog’s back, and this was the bit the dog loved. Jimmy Sr dropped the towel and missed Larrygogan by a mile because Larry was in under the kitchen table, sliding and barking.

—Come ou’ till I dry yeh.

Larrygogan put his chin on the floor and barked at Jimmy Sr.

Jimmy Sr always thought that that bark, the real cheeky one, sounded like Get fucked. And the way his ears jumped up when he said it – not said it, not really; just barked – but he looked like he was saying it, giving cheek to Jimmy Sr, his master. It was gas.

—Come on ou’ here, yeh renegade, yeh.

The dog barked again.

—Here, Darren; go round there an’ shove him ou’ to me.

Jimmy Sr stared at Larrygogan.

—You’re fucked now, he said.

—Stop that, said Veronica.

—Sorry, Veronica, he said.

He loved this.

Darren was at the other side of the table. He got down on his knees and stretched in under the table and pushed Larrygogan – Larrygogan was chin down, arse up – but Larrygogan pushed back against Darren’s open hands. The dog’s paws slid a bit but he stayed put, and Darren had to climb in under the table. He was bursting his shite laughing now, and so was Jimmy Sr.

—Mind he doesn’t fart on yeh, he told Darren.

—Oh Jaysis, said Darren, and he couldn’t push properly any more because he was laughing so much.

Larrygogan was winning.

—Ah, leave him, said Jimmy Sr.

He stood up.

—Let him catch his death. He deserves to die, the fuckin’ eejit of a dog.

Darren got out and up from under the table. They grinned at each other but then Darren sat down and started reading his book. Jimmy Sr shut the door. Larrygogan charged out to the hall.

He still had a good breakfast these days, the fry and loads of toast and a bowl of Cornflakes as well sometimes if he still felt a bit empty. They used to have Sugar Puffs and the rest of them; every time there was a new ad on the telly the twins had to have a box of the new things. But they only had the Cornflakes now. They were the best. Tea as well, loads of it. He only had coffee later on in the day, and sometimes he didn’t bother. He didn’t need it. Tea though, he loved his cup of tea; twenty bleedin’ cups.

He had a mug for work that he’d had for years; he still had it. It was a big plain white one, no cracks, no stupid slogans. He put two teabags into it; used to. My God, he’d never forget the taste of the first cup of tea in the morning, usually in a bare room in a new house with muck and dirt everywhere, freezing; fuck me, it was great; it scalded him on the way down; he could feel it all the way. And the taste it left; brilliant; brilliant. He always used two bags, squeezed the bejesus out of them. The mug was so big it warmed more than just his hands. It was like sitting in front of a fire. After a few gulps he’d sip at it and turn around and look at his work. He always got a few walls done before he stopped for the tea. Even if the other lads were stopping he kept going, till he felt he needed it; deserved it. He’d look around him at the plastering. It was perfect; not a bump or a sag, so smooth you’d never know where he’d started. Then he’d gulp down the rest of the tea and get back to it. The mug was outside in the shed, in a bag with his other work stuff. He’d wrapped toilet paper around it.

—You’ll get drenched goin’ to school, Darren, he said.

—Yeah, said Darren.

—Still, said Jimmy Sr. —It’ll save yeh the bother o’ washin’ yourself, wha’.

—Yeah, said Darren.

Darren looked at the rain hitting the window.

—Jesus, he said.

—Stop that, said Veronica.

—That’s the real wet stuff alrigh’, Jimmy Sr told Darren.

—I’ve P.E. today, Darren told him.

—Is tha’ righ’? said Jimmy Sr. —Ah, they’ll never send yeh ou’ in tha’; they couldn’t.

—They did the last time.

—Did they, the cunts?

Veronica put his plate in front of him and then walloped him across the head.

—Sorry, he said.

He took out tenpence and dropped it in the swearbox.

—D’yeh want a note for the teacher? he asked Darren.

—He does not, said Veronica.

—No, said Darren. —I don’t mind. It might stop.

—That’s very true.

Darren got back to his book and his breakfast. Jimmy Sr picked up his knife and fork.

—Wha’ have we here? he said.

Darren kept reading. Veronica was busy. So he just chopped a bit of sausage off, put it on a piece of toast, closed the toast over on it and bit into it. The marge was lovely and warm.

The twins came in.

—You’re to sign this, Linda told Jimmy Sr.

—Get back upstairs and get that stuff off, said Veronica.

—Ah, Mammy —

—Go on! —— You too, she told Tracy.

Tracy followed Linda out into the hall.

—It’s not fair! they heard Linda.

—Wha’ were tha’ abou’? Jimmy Sr wanted to know.

—They were wearing eye-shadow, said Veronica.

—Oh.

—They were sent home last week for having it on, said Veronica.

—It’s crazy, said Darren. —It’s pitiful.

Jimmy Sr wasn’t sure.

—They’re a bit young, he said.

—Sixth years aren’t allowed to have it on either, Darren told Jimmy Sr.

—Ah then, said Jimmy Sr. —Then you’re righ’, Darren. That’s just stupid.

—It’s a school rule, said Veronica.

—That’s right as well, o’ course, said Jimmy Sr.

Darren was standing up, putting his book marker carefully into place so it wouldn’t fall out.

—If everybody had that attitude, he said, —nothing would ever change.

Jimmy Sr didn’t know what to do. He liked hearing Darren talk like that, but he was being cheeky as well; to his mother. There was something about the way Darren spoke since his voice broke that left Jimmy Sr confused. He admired him, more and more; he was a great young fella; he was really proud of him, but he thought he felt a bit jealous of him as well sometimes; he didn’t know. Anyway, he wasn’t going to be let talk like that to his mother. That was out.

But the twins were back.

—You’re to sign this.

Linda had spoken to him.

—Wha’?

—Here.

—Yeah, said Jimmy Sr. —Why but?

He took Linda’s homework journal from her.

—Don’t know, said Linda. —You’re just to sign it.

Jimmy Sr looked at the cover; Big Fun, Wet Wet Wet, Brother Beyond, Tracy loves Keith. He looked at the back; Linda loves Keith.

—Lucky Keith, he said. —Where am I to sign?

Linda took the journal and found the right page.

—Here, she said.

There was a page for each week, divided into sections for subject, homework and teachers’ comments.

—You don’t have to read them, said Linda.

—Homework not done, Jimmy Sr read. —Persisted in talking. ——Homework not done. Cheeky. ——Stabbed student with compass. ——Homework should be done at home.

He looked up.

—Fuckin’ hell, he said. —An’ that’s only Monday.

—Let me see, said Veronica. ——My God.

Linda pointed at one of the comments.

—I wasn’t cheeky. She just said I was but I wasn’t. An’ he – tha’ one there – he hit me with his ruler so I had to get him back but she didn’t see him hittin’ me, she on’y seen —

—Saw, said Veronica.

—She only saw me gettin’ him with the compass. An’ I did not stab him. I on’y —

—Shut up! said Jimmy Sr.

He looked at Veronica.

—Give us a pen, he said to Linda. —Where’s your journal till I see it, he said to Tracy.

—It’s in school, said Tracy.

—Why’s tha’?

—A teacher kept it.

—Why?

—He just did.

Jimmy Sr looked at Veronica again.

—You’re grounded, he told the twins. —The two o’ yis.

He saw Parent’s Signature, and signed the dotted line.

—Till when? said Tracy.

—Till I say so, said Jimmy Sr. —Who told yeh to get me to sign this?

—Miss McCluskey.

—Elephant Woman, said Darren, on his way out.

—Don’t start now, said Jimmy Sr.

He stared the twins out of it.

—I’m warnin’ yis, he said. —If one o’ yis laughs I’ll tan your arses for yis.

Tracy started; she couldn’t keep it in. And that got Linda going.

—Here, said Jimmy Sr.

He walloped her with the journal, but not too hard.

—I’m checkin’ your homework every nigh’, d’yeh hear me. An’ —

He shouted after them.

—if I see anny more bad comments I’ll —

The front door slammed.

—crucify yis! ——The pair o’ them’ll be pushin’ buggies before they’re fifteen.

—Oh God, said Veronica. —Don’t.

He looked at Veronica, carefully.

—I’ll check their eccers every nigh’, don’t worry. An’ we won’t let them out at all after their tea, an’ that’ll sort them ou’, wait an’ see, Veronica. Fair enough?

—Okay.

—I’ll do everythin’. I’ll even sleep in the same bed as them.

—Jesus, said Veronica. —We’ve enough trouble in the house without that as well.

Jimmy Sr laughed.

—Good girl, he said. —An’ you can sleep with Darren. How’s tha’?’

He loved the breakfasts. Pity they went so quick.

He got up.

Where was Gina?

—No rest for the wicked, he said.

* * *

—They’re not real computers annyway, sure they’re not.

—Not at all, said Veronica. —They’re only toys.

Jimmy Sr and Veronica were doing a bit of Christmas shopping. It was Thursday morning and more than three weeks to go, so Donaghmede Shopping Centre – where they were – wasn’t too bad, not too crowded. They hadn’t really said it, but they were looking for things that looked good and cost nothing. It reminded Jimmy Sr of when he was a kid and he used to walk along with his head down and pray, really pray, that he’d find money on the path, and he’d close his eyes
turning a corner and then open them and there’d be nothing on the ground in front of him.

—And they’re very bad for your eyes, said Veronica.

—Is tha’ righ’? said Jimmy Sr. —Oh yeah; I read somethin’ abou’ tha’ somewhere, I think. ——Ah well, then. We’d be mad to get one for them.

They’d just been looking at the computers in a window. They were for nothing, dirt cheap; great value they looked. You linked them into the telly and then you could play all kinds of games on them. Jimmy Sr had played Space Invaders once, years ago; only the once, so he hadn’t really got the hang of it, but he’d enjoyed himself. These things looked better; more colours and varieties. It would have been good to have one at home, a bit of gas. And, as well as that, it was a computer, after all; there were probably other things you could do with them, not just play games. Only they couldn’t afford one of the fuckin’ things. Last year now, last year they’d have bought —

—Sure, who’d we give it to? said Veronica.

—The twins. I suppose.

—They wouldn’t be interested, said Veronica. —They’d hate you if you gave them one of them.

She laughed.

—I’d love to see the look on their faces if they thought they were getting a computer game for Christmas.

Jimmy Sr laughed as well now.

—Yeah, he said. —I just thought they looked the business, yeh know. Darren?

—He’d be insulted.

She was right.

—You’d be the only one who’d use it, said Veronica.

He made himself smile.

—True, he said.

—We’ll get you an Airfix instead, said Veronica.

* * *

It was crying alright; she was crying.

Jimmy Sr was outside Sharon’s room. He’d come up for his book.

Sharon snuffled.

Jimmy Sr held the door handle. He was going to go in.

But he couldn’t.

He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t have known what to do any more.

He went back down to the kitchen very carefully, and stepped down over the stair with the creak in it.

* * *

Veronica had been in already to have a look at her. It was his turn now. One, two —

He grabbed the handle and went straight into the front room.