The Snapper
Page 18
—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?
—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 b
aby 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. 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.