–Ah Da; yeah. Fuckin’—sorry—brilliant!

Veronica was pretending to watch Today Tonight.

–Darren’s joined a new club, Veronica, Jimmy Sr told her.

–That’s nice.

–We’ll be wantin’ sequins on our jerseys, isn’t tha’ righ’, Darren?

–No way.—Oh yeah! Yeah.

Darren gasped, keeping the laugh in. Jimmy Sr nudged Darren. Darren nudged Jimmy Sr. Snot burst out of Darren’s nose because he was trying not to laugh, but Jimmy Sr didn’t mind. His cardigan was due a wash anyway.

Veronica flicked through the channels while the ads were on.

–How’s this for a name, Darren?—The Barrytown

Wheelies.

–Brilliant!

Darren couldn’t stay sitting any more.

–Better than the oul’ Barrytown Cyclin’ Club, wha’.

–Ah yeah!

–I’ll tell yeh wha’. Go an’ see if yeh can get a few o’ your chums to join. All o’ them. The more the merrier. We’ll poach them.

He laughed.

–That’ll teach the bollix.

Darren dashed to the door.

–You’ll never keep it up, said Veronica.

–Won’t I? said Jimmy Sr.—Who says I won’t? I’m serious abou’ this, yeh know. I’ve been doin’ a lot o’ thinkin’ these days an’, well—I’m his father an’—

Darren jumped back in.

–Da.

–Yes, Darren?

–Can girls be in the club?

Jimmy Sr looked at Darren. He wanted to give him the right answer. He guessed.

–Yeah—probably.

–Rapid! Thanks.

Darren was gone again. Jimmy Sr turned back to Veronica.

–That’s mah boy, he said.

–Are you crying?

–No, I amn’t!—Jaysis!—It’s the smoke.

–What smoke?

–Fuck off an’ stop annoyin’ me.

Sharon was passing her before she saw her. She’d been too busy thinking about wanting to get out; she felt really squashed in and surrounded and sticky. Then she saw her and before she had time even to say, Jesus, it’s her, she said—Hiyeh, Yvonne.

Yvonne Burgess saw who it was. She turned back quickly and continued to flick through the rack of skirts.

Sharon stayed for a second, half deciding to force Yvonne to talk to her.

Yvonne spoke.

–Terrible smell in here, isn’t there, Mary?

Sharon then saw that Mary Curran—she hadn’t seen her in months—was on the other side of the rack. She wasn’t exactly hiding but that was what she was doing all the same.

Mary didn’t say anything.

Sharon stood there a bit more, then went on.

She heard Yvonne again, louder.

–They shouldn’t let prostitutes in here, sure they shouldn’t, Mary?

Sharon grinned.

God help her, she thought. She couldn’t blame her really. At least she hadn’t tried to beat her up or anything. That Mary one was a right cow though, pretending she hadn’t seen her.

Spotty bitch. Even Mister Burgess wouldn’t have gone near her.

–What’s tha’ shite? said Jimmy Sr.—What’s tha’ under the hedge there?—A hedgehog, is it? The head on it, wha’.

–It’s David Attenborough.

–It looks like a hedgehog, said Jimmy Sr.

They laughed.

–It’s abou’ hedgehogs, said Sharon.—Wildlife On One.

–Ah yeah. Jaysis, look at him! The speed of him. Where’s the remote till we hear wha’ David’s sayin’.

–Oh look it, said Sharon.—There’s two o’ them now.

Jimmy Jr came in.

–Typical, said Jimmy Sr.—Walkin’ in just when the nookie’s startin’.

Jimmy Jr sat down, on the other side of Sharon.

–What’s thot? he said.

–A hudgehog, said Jimmy Sr.—Two hudgehogs. Roidin’.

–Fuck off.

–Keep your feet up there, Sharon, said Jimmy Sr.—You’ll get cramps.

–I’m goin’ to the toilet.

–Oh, fair enough.—So that’s how they do it. That’s very clever all the same. Off he goes again, look it. Back into the hedge. Didn’t even say goodbye or thanks or ann’thin’. That’s nature for yeh.

Jimmy Jr was bored. He didn’t like nature programmes or things like that. But he wanted to talk to Sharon so he stayed where he was.

Jimmy Sr sniffed.

–Are you wearin’ perfume?

–Fuck off.

Sharon came back and sat between the Jimmys.

–Feet up, Sharon, said Jimmy Sr.—That’s righ’.

–Come here, said Jimmy Jr.

But Jimmy Sr got to her first.

–Only a few more weeks to go now, wha’.

–Yeah, said Sharon.

–Sharon, said Jimmy Jr.

–Wha’?

–Do us a favour, will yeh.

–I was just lookin’ at your, eh, stomach there, Jimmy Sr told Sharon.—It’s movin’ all over the place.

–Wha’? Sharon asked Jimmy Jr.

–I can’t tell yeh here—

–Do you mind! said Jimmy Sr.

–Wha’? said Jimmy Jr.

–I was talkin’ to Sharon.

Jimmy Jr leaned out so he could see past Sharon.

–So?

–So fuck off. Go upstairs an’ spin your discs.

Sharon was laughing.

Jimmy Sr was looking at his watch. He stood up.

–You’ve got three minutes, he said.—I’ll check an’ see if Veronica’s fixed Darren’s jersey yet.

–Did he crash again?

–No. The fuckin’ dog was swingin’ off it when it was on the line.

He was gone. Jimmy Jr stood up and shut the door.

–I’ve a gig in a few weeks; Soturday, he told Sharon.

–Stop talkin’ like tha’, will yeh.

–I’m tryin’ to get used to it.

–It makes yeh sound like a fuckin’ eejit.

–Here maybe, but not on the radio, said Jimmy.

–Anywhere, said Sharon.

–The lessons cost me forty fuckin’ quid, said Jimmy.

–You were robbed, said Sharon.—Yeh sound like a dope.—Roight?

–Fuck up a minute. I’ve a gig on, Soh-Saturday fortnight.

–Wha’ gig?

–On the radio, said Jimmy.

She looked as if she didn’t believe him.

–The community radio. You know.—Andy Dudley’s garage.

–Tha’!

–Yeah; tha’!

Sharon roared.

–Don’t start, said Jimmy.—Wacker Mulcahy—he calls himself Lee Bradley on Saturdays—he has to do best man at his brother’s weddin’. So Andy said I can have his slot.

–His wha’?

–His slot.

–That’s disgustin’.

–Oh yeah.

They both laughed.

–Annyway, listen.

He switched on his new accent.

–Hoy there, you there, out there. This is Jommy Robbitte, Thot’s Rockin’ Robbitte, with a big fot hour of the meanest, hottest, baddest sounds arouuund; yeahhh.—How’s tha’?

–Thick.

–Fuckin’ thanks.

–No, it’s good. Rockin’ Rabbitte, I like tha’.

–Do yeh?—I was thinkin’ o’ callin’ meself Gary—eh, Gary Breeze.

Sharon had a hankie in her sleeve and she got it to her nose just in time.

–I’ll stick to Rockin’ Rabbitte, will I? said Jimmy.

He grinned. Sharon nodded.

–Yeah.

Jimmy Sr was back.

–Hop it.

–Righ’. Thanks, Sharon.

Jimmy Jr left.

–Was he annoyin’ yeh? said Jimmy Sr.

–Ah no.

–You’ve enough on your plate withou’ that eejit hasslin’ yeh.—Righ’. Annyway, Sharon, what I wanted to say was: how’re yeh feelin’?

–Grand.

–You’re not nervous or worried or ann’thin’?

–No, she lied.—Not really.

–Three weeks.

–Twenty days.

–That’s righ’.—I’ve been thinkin’ a bit, said Jimmy Sr.—An’, well; if yeh want I’ll—

The twins charged in, just like the cavalry.

–Daddy, said Linda.—Mister Reeves says you’re to hurry up an’ he says if we get you ou’ of the house in a minute he’ll give us a pound.

Jimmy Sr patted Sharon’s leg.

–I’ll get back to yeh abou’ tha’, he said.

–Okay, said Sharon.

About what? she wondered.

–Righ’, girls, said Jimmy Sr.—Let’s get this pound off o’ Bimbo.

That left Sharon alone. She laughed a bit, then closed her eyes.

She didn’t wait at her usual bus-stop, across from work. She kept going, around the corner to the stop with the shelter. There was no one else there.