The Snapper

by Roddy Doyle

  Jackie brought it and her bag home for her the day after.

  —What happened yeh?

  —Jesus, I was pissed, Jackie, I’m not jokin’ yeh. I just came home. I woke up in me clothes.

  —Yeh stupid bitch yeh.

  —I know.

  She’d wondered a few times if what had happened could be called rape. She didn’t know.

  That was as much as she remembered. She wished she didn’t remember more.—When he sat down white skin poked out from between the buttons of his shirt.

  There was one more thing she remembered; what he’d said after he’d put his hand on her shoulder and asked her was she alright.

  —I’ve always liked the look of you, Sharon.

  Sharon groaned.

  The dirty bastard.

  Les was nearly crying. So was Veronica.

  —Shut up! The lot o’ yis! said Jimmy Sr.

  —You started it, Jimmy Jr reminded him.

  —Good Jesus!!

  —I’m goin’ to smash your fuckin’ records, Les told Jimmy Jr.

  This time Veronica slapped him hard across the head.

  —Wha’!?

  —Don’t Wha’ me, said Veronica, and she slapped him again.—Don’t think you can stroll in and out of here when you feel like it and shout language like a—like a knacker.

  She drew her hand back, Les ducked, and then she slapped him.

  Linda and Tracy were giggling.

  —Don’t start, youse! Jimmy Sr roared at them.

  —You never hit THEM, do yeh? said Les.

  He was crying now.

  —I’m not takin’ this.

  He slammed the back door.

  Jimmy Sr was going after him.

  —Leave him out there, said Veronica.—It’s going to rain in a minute. That’ll bring him back.

  Jimmy Sr couldn’t leave it just like that. He’d lost, in front of Darren, the twins, Sharon—them all. He was the head of the fuckin’ house!

  —Come here, you, he said to Jimmy Jr.—If you ever behave like that again in this house yeh can pack your belongin’s. Your groovy clothes an’ your shampoo an’

  —an’ your bras an’ yeh can fuck off to somewhere else, righ’. Is tha’ clear?

  —I don’t know, said Jimmy Jr.—I’ll have to discuss it with my solicitor.

  A laugh burst out of Darren. He’d have loved the neck to say something like that.

  —Don’t YOU start!

  Darren stopped.

  And Jimmy Sr felt a bit better.

  —Now, he said.—Sharon has a bit o’ news for yis.

  Veronica started laughing.

  —Sorry, she said.—I can’t help it.

  —Darren, said Jimmy Sr.—We live in a mental home.

  Darren laughed.

  —Sorry, Sharon, said Veronica.—Go on, love.

  Sharon grinned at Veronica. She looked at the twins when she spoke.

  —I’m goin’ to be havin’ a baby.

  Jimmy Sr and Veronica were alone in the kitchen. Jimmy Sr was having the cup of tea he always had before he went out.

  —These yokes aren’t as nice as they used to be, said Jimmy Sr.—Sure they’re not?

  He put the rest of the Jaffa Cake on the table.

  —That doesn’t stop you eating them.

  —I didn’t say they weren’t nice, Veronica. Wha’ I said was—

  —Right. Right. I agree with you.

  —Are yeh tired, Veronica?

  —Mm, said Veronica.

  —Will yeh go on up to the bed?

  —Mm.

  —That’s the place to be.—It went well, didn’t it?

  —I suppose it did, said Veronica.

  —They took it very well, I thought.

  —Ah Jimmy, for Christ’s sake. What did you expect? Did you think the girls would be outraged or something?

  —No.

  He grinned at her.

  —I didn’t think they’d go tha’ wild. Poor Sharon won’t have any peace now. Inside—

  He nodded at the door.

  —watchin’ the telly there, Sharon yawned an’ Tracy asked her was she havin’ the baby.—Tha’ Jimmy fella’s a righ’ pup though. He said somethin’ to Sharon, yeh know, cos I saw her hittin’ him. She gave him a righ’ wallop.

  —They get on very well, those two.

  —I don’t know, said Jimmy Sr.

  He sighed.

  —You were exactly like him, said Veronica.

  —Veronica, please. It’s been a rough day. Now, lay off.

  —Remember that Crombie you had?

  —No.

  —You do so. You used to keep it spotless. Except for your dandruff.

  —I didn’t have dandruff!

  —Excuse me, you did so. My Uncle Bob used to say that we needed a Saint Bernard dog to find everyone after you’d been in the house.

  Jimmy Sr laughed.

  —He was an oul’ bollix, tha’ fella. A right oul’ bollix. I bought tha’ fucker a brandy at the weddin‘, I did. —Annyway, we didn’t have those special shampoos. Timotei. So mild you can wash your hair as often as yeh like! As if yeh didn’t have better things to be doin’ than washin’ your fuckin’ hair all day. As often as yeh like!

  —What happened that coat?

  —I don’t know! I threw it ou’.

  —You did not. After you bought it you stopped trying to get me to go into the fields with you. It was the best contraceptive ever invented, that coat.

  —Veronica!

  —That’s what they should give every young lad these days. A nice new coat.

  Jimmy Sr laughed.

  They said nothing for a while. Then Veronica spoke.

  —Jimmy.

  —Yes, Veronica?

  —Do you not think—?—You’ll probably shout at me for saying it.—I think we should tell the twins that what Sharon did was wrong.

  —Wha’?

  —No, listen. I don’t want to turn them against her or anything—

  —An’ the baby, remember.

  —Yes, I know that. But—

  —Wha’?

  —I think we should tell them. Without, you know. We should tell them that they should only have babies when they’re married.

  —They wouldn’t understand wha’ you were on abou’.

  —Oh they would, you know.

  —Maybe they would.—It’s a bit young but, isn’t it? Wha’ were yeh thinkin’ o’ tellin’ them?

  He was flicking fluff and specks off his jumper. That meant he was on his way out.

  —Do you not think we should? Veronica asked him.

  —Well, whatever you think yourself, Veronica, said Jimmy Sr.—They’d only laugh at me. I’m only their da. Anyway, it’d sound better comin’ from a woman, wouldn’t it?—Maybe leave it till they’re a bit older.

  —But by then—

  She couldn’t finish. There was no tidy way of saying what she thought. She gave up. Maybe she’d talk to Sharon about it.

  Jimmy Sr was standing up, ready to go. But he didn’t want to leave Veronica unhappy.

  —Times’ve changed, Veronica, he said.

  —I suppose so, said Veronica.—But do we have to keep up with them?

  Jimmy Sr didn’t like questions like that.

  —D’yeh want to come? he asked Veronica.

  —Ah no.

  —Up to the bed?

  —Mm; yeah.

  —That’s the place. See yeh later.

  —Bring your Crombie. It might rain.

  —Ha fuckin’ ha.

  —How much did it cost yeh, Jackie? Yvonne asked.

  She dipped two wetted fingers into her crisp bag and dredged it for crumbs.

  —Fifteen pound, ninety-nine, said Jackie.

  —Really? said Yvonne.—That’s brilliant, isn’t it?

  —Is it hand wash, Jackie? said Mary.

  —Yeah, it is.

  —It’s very nice now.

  —Thanks.

  Yvonne wiped h
er fingers on the stool beside her.

  Sharon saw this as she walked over to join them so she parked herself on the stool opposite Yvonne.

  —Hiyis, she said.

  —Hiyeh, Sharon.

  —Ah howyeh, Sharon.

  —Hiyis, said Sharon.

  —Are they new, Sharon?

  —No, not really.

  A lounge boy was passing. Sharon stopped him.

  —A vodka an’ a Coke, please, she said.

  —Don’t bother abou’ the Coke, Sharon, said Jackie. —I’ve loads here, look it.

  —Okay. Thanks, Jackie. A vodka just, she told the lounge boy.

  —Anyway, Jackie, said Mary.

  The real business of the night was starting.

  —Will yeh be seein’ Greg again?

  —Tha’ prick! said Jackie.

  They laughed.

  Jackie had given Greg the shove the Saturday before —or so she said anyway—in one of those café places in the ILAC Centre, after he’d accused her of robbing the cream out of his chocolate eclair.—An’ I paid for the fuckin’ thing! she’d told them the night before.

  She was in good form tonight as well. She tapped the table with her glass.

  —If he was the last man on earth I wouldn’t go with him.

  She took a fair sip from the glass.

  —I’d shag the Elephant Man before I’d let him go near me again, the prick.

  They roared.

  —Yis should’ve seen him with that fuckin’ eclair. I was so embarrassed, I was scarleh, I’m not jokin’ yis, I was burnin’. In his leather jacket an’ his fuckin’ keys hangin’ off his belt, yeh know, givin’ the goo goo eyes to a fuckin’ eclair. It was pat’etic, it was.

  —Were yeh goin’ to break it off annyway? Sharon asked her.

  —Yeah, said Jackie.—I was thinkin’ about it alrigh’. I was givin’ the matter, eh, my serious consideration.

  They laughed.

  —Then when I saw him sulkin’; Jesus!

  —He was very good lookin’ though, wasn’t he? said Yvonne.—Very handsome.

  —Not really, said Jackie.—Not when yeh got up close to him. D’yeh know what I mean?

  —Beauty is only skin deep, said Mary.

  —It wasn’t even tha’ deep, Mary, Jackie told her.—He had loads o’ little spots on his chin. Tiny little ones now. Millions o’ them. You only noticed them when you were right up against him, an’ then you’d want to throw up. —There was nothin’ under the leather jacket really. That’s all he was now that I think of it.

  Jackie sighed and took a slug from her glass.

  —A leather jacket.—He was thick as well.

  —Come here, Jackie, said Mary.—Was he passionate?

  —No, said Jackie.—But he thought he was. Yeh know? He was just a big thick monkey.

  —Lookin’ for somewhere to stick his banana, wha’, said Yvonne.

  They screamed.

  —Yvonne Burgess!

  Sharon wiped her eyes.

  —He stuck his tongue in me ear once, Jackie told them when they’d settled down again.—An‘, I’m not jokin’ yis, I think he was tryin’ to get it out the other one. I don’t know what he fuckin’ thought I had in there.

  She laughed with them.

  —He licked half me brains ou’. Like a big dog, yeh know.

  They roared.

  Jackie waited.

  —His sense o’ direction wasn’t the best either, d’yis know what I mean?

  They roared again.

  —Jesus!

  —Jackie O‘Keefe! You’re fuckin’ disgustin’!

  —Wha’?

  More vodkas and Cokes and a gin and a tonic were ordered. And crisps.

  Then Sharon told them her bit of news.

  —I’m pregnant, did I tell yis?

  Mary laughed, but the others didn’t. Then Mary stopped.

  —Yeah, well, said Sharon.—I am.

  —She’s fuckin’ serious, said Yvonne.

  No one said anything for a bit. Sharon couldn’t look anywhere. The others looked at one another, their faces held blank. Sharon picked up her glass but she was afraid to put it to her mouth.

  Then Jackie spoke.

  —Well done, Sharon, she said.

  —Thanks, Jackie.

  She put the glass down. She was starting to shake. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe in enough air to keep her going.

  —Yeah, Sharon. Congrats, said Mary.

  —Thanks, Mary.

  —Well done, Sharon, said Yvonne.—Yeh thick bitch yeh.

  Then they all started laughing. They looked at one another and kept laughing. Sharon was delighted. They were all blushing and laughing. The tears were running out of her and the snot would be as well in a minute. She took up her bag from the floor to look for a hankie.

  The laughing died down and became fits of the giggles. They all blew their noses and wiped their eyes.

  —Jesus though, Sharon, said Jackie, but she was grinning.

  Sharon reddened again.

  —I know, she said.—It’s terrible really.

  Some questions had to be asked.

  First an easy one.

  —How long are yeh gone, Sharon? Yvonne asked her.

  —Fourteen weeks.

  They converted that into months.

  —Jesus! Tha’ long? said Mary.

  They looked at Sharon.

  —You don’t look it, said Yvonne.

  —I do, said Sharon.

  —I won’t argue with you, said Yvonne.—You’re the expert.

  They screamed.

  —I’m only messin’, said Yvonne.

  Sharon wiped her eyes.

  —I know tha’.

  —You look the same, said Mary.

  —I’ll start gettin’ bigger in a few weeks.

  —Well, said Jackie,—you can start hangin’ round with someone else when tha’ happens. No fellas’ll come near us if one of us is pregnant.

  They laughed.

  —Sharon, said Yvonne.—Who’re yeh havin’ it for?

  Your fat da, thought Sharon.

  —I can’t tell, she said.—Sorry.

  She looked at her drink. She could feel herself going red again.

  —Ah, Sharon!

  She grinned and shook her head.

  —Meany, said Jackie.

  Sharon grinned.

  —Give us a hint.

  —No.

  —Just a little one.

  Nothing.

  —Do we know him?

  —No, said Sharon.

  —Ah Sharon, go on. Tell us.

  —No.

  —We won’t tell annyone.

  —Leave Sharon alone, said Jackie.—It’s none o’ your fuckin’ business. Is he married, Sharon?

  —Oh Jesus! said Mary.

  —No, said Sharon.

  She laughed.

  —You’re scarleh. He must be.

  —He’s not. I swear. He’s not—

  —Are yeh gettin’ married? Mary asked.

  -No. I mean—I mean I don’t want to marry him.

  —Are yeh sure we don’t know him?

  —Yeah.

  —Is he in here?

  —Jesus, said Jackie.—If we don’t know him he isn’t here. An’ anyway, would you do it with annyone here?

  —I was only fuckin’ askin’, said Yvonne.

  She looked around. The lounge was fairly full.

  —You’re righ’ though, she said.—It was a stupid question. Sorry for insultin’ yeh, Sharon.

  —That’s okay.

  —Serious though, Sharon, said Mary.—Do we really not know him?

  -No. I swear to God.

  —I believe yeh, thousands wouldn’t, said Yvonne.

  —Where did yeh meet him?

  —Ah look, said Sharon.—I don’t want to talk about it annymore; righ’?

  —Let’s get pissed, will we? said Jackie.

  —Ah yeah, said Sharon.

  —Hey! Jackie
roared at the lounge boy.—Get your body over here.

  They laughed.

  The lounge boy was sixteen and looked younger.

  —Three vodkas an’ two Cokes an’ a gin an’ tonic, said Jackie.—Got tha’?

  —Yeah, said the lounge boy.

  —An’ a package o’ crisps, said Yvonne.

  —Ah yeah, said Sharon.—Two packs.

  —Do yeh have anny nuts? Mary asked him.

  —Jesus, Mary, yeh dirty bitch yeh!

  They screamed.

  —I didn’t mean it tha’ way, said Mary.

  The very red lounge boy backed off and headed for the bar.

  Yvonne shouted after him.

  —Come back soon, chicken.

  —Leave him alone or he’ll never come back, said Jackie.

  —Who’s goin’ to sub me till Thursday? said Yvonne.

  —Me, said Sharon.—I will. A tenner?

  -Lovely.

  —He’ll be nice when he’s older, won’t he? said Mary.

  —Who? The lounge boy?

  Jackie looked over at him.

  —He’s a bit miserable lookin’.

  —He’s a nice little arse on him all the same, said Yvonne.

  —Pity there’s a dickie bow under it, said Jackie.

  They stopped looking at the lounge boy.

  —Annyway, Sharon, said Jackie.—What’s it like? Are yeh pukin’ up in the mornin’s?

  —No, said Sharon.—Well, yeah. Only a couple o’ times. It’s not tha’ bad.

  —I’d hate tha’.

  —Yeah. It’s bad enough havin’ to get up without knowin’ you’re goin’ to be vomitin’ your guts up as well.

  —It’s not tha’ bad, said Sharon.

  —Are you goin’ to give up work? Mary asked her.

  —I don’t know, said Sharon.—I haven’t thought about it really. I might.

  —It’s nice for some, said Yvonne.—Havin’ a job to think abou’ givin’ it up.

  —Ah, stop whingin’, said Jackie.

  —I wasn’t whingin’.

  —Would you really like to be doin’ wha’ Sharon does, would yeh? Stackin’ shelves an’ tha’?

  —No.

  —Then fuck off an’ leave her alone.

  —Are you havin’ your periods or somethin’?

  —Yeah, I am actually. Wha’ about it?

  —You’re staininV the carpet.

  The row was over. They nearly got sick laughing. The lounge boy was coming back.

  —Here’s your bit o’ fluff, Mary, said Sharon.

  —Ah stop.

  —Howyeh, Gorgeous, said Jackie.—Did yeh make your holy communion yet?