–Ah—!—fuck—
He shook himself. His chin was wet, and a bit of his shirt.
–Ah Jaysis, he gave out to himself.—Yeh fuckin’ baby, yeh.
He looked at the telly. Cricket.
–Ah, fuckin’ hell.
He always got angry the minute he saw cricket. It really annoyed him, everything about it; the umpires, the white gear, the commentators, the whole fuckin’ lot.
He couldn’t find the remote control, so he had to stand up. When he got to the telly he didn’t bother looking to see if there was anything else on. He just turned it off.
His mouth and throat were dry. He needed Coke, or anything fizzy and cold.
Veronica was in the kitchen, at the table, cutting material.
–Is it still Saturday? said Jimmy Sr.
–The dead arose, said Veronica.
Jimmy Sr went to the fridge. He bent down and took out a large yellow-pack bottle, empty.
–Fuck it annyway!
–Now now.
–There was loads in it this mornin’. I only had a few slugs.
–Jimmy had the rest of it before he went to work, Veronica told him.—He didn’t look very well.
–Fuck’m, said Jimmy Sr.—Why can’t he buy his own?
–Why can’t YOU buy your own?
–I bought this one!
–Excuse ME. I bought it.
–With my fuckin’ money.
Veronica said nothing. Jimmy Sr sat down. He shouldn’t have shouted at her. He felt guilty now. He’d send one of the kids to get her a choc-ice when one of them came in.
–What’s tha’ you’re makin’, Veronica? he asked.
Veronica glanced at him over her glasses.
–A skirt. For Linda, she said.
–No one’ll run her over in the dark annyway, wha’, said Jimmy Sr.
The material was very bright, shiny red.
–Ha ha, said Veronica.—It’s for their majorettes.
–Their wha’?
–Majorettes. You know. Marching to music.
–Wha’? Like in American football?
–That’s right.
This worried Jimmy Sr.
–They’re a bit young for tha’, aren’t they?
–Don’t be stupid, said Veronica.—They’re doing it in school.
–Oh, fair enough so, said Jimmy Sr.—What’s for the dinner?
–You had your dinner, Veronica reminded him.
She put the scissors down on the table. That was that for one day. Her eyes were sore.
–For the tea, said Jimmy Sr.
–A fry, said Veronica.
–Lovely, said Jimmy Sr.—An’ some fried bread maybe?
Veronica looked across. There was one full sliced pan and most of another one.
–Right, she said.—Okay.
–Veronica, said Jimmy Sr.—I love yeh.
–Umf, said Veronica.
The back door opened and Les charged through the kitchen. They heard him walloping the stairs as he ran up to the boys’ room.
–Don’t say hello or ann’thin’! Jimmy Sr roared.
There wasn’t an answer. The door slammed.
–No one just closes doors annymore, said Jimmy Sr.—Did yeh ever notice tha’, Veronica?
Veronica had her head in the fridge. She was wiping some dried milk off the inside of the door.
–They either slam them or they leave the fuckin’ things open, said Jimmy Sr.—I went into the jacks there this mornin’ an’ Linda was sittin’ in there readin’ a comic. Or it might’ve been Tracy.
–You should have knocked, said Veronica.
–The door was open, said Jimmy Sr.—An open jacks door means the jacks is empty. Everywhere in the world except in this house. Walk into the jacks in this house an’ you’ll find a twin, or Jimmy pukin’, or Leslie wankin’—
–Stop that!
–Sorry.—That’s the sort o’ stuff they should be teachin’ them in school. Not Irish or—or German. Shuttin’ jacks doors an’ sayin’ Hello an’ tha’ sort o’ thing. Manners.
–Will you look who’s talking about manners, said Veronica, and she stabbed a sausage a couple of times and turned it, and stabbed it again.
Jimmy Jr came in, from work.
–Howyis, he said.
–Get stuffed, you, said Jimmy Sr.
–Manners! said Veronica.
–Listen here, you, said Jimmy Sr.—You’re not to be drinkin’ all the Coke in the mornin’, righ’. Buy your own.
–I put me money into the house, said Jimmy Jr.
–Is tha’ wha’ yeh call it? Yeh couldn’t wipe your arse with the amount you give your mother.
He pointed at the sausages.
–D’you know how much they cost, do yeh?
–Do YOU know? Veronica asked him.
Darren came in the back door, and saved Jimmy Sr.
–Did yeh win, Darren? he asked.
–Yeah, said Darren.—I saved a penno.
–Did yeh? Ah, good man. Good man yourself. Wha’ score?
–Two-one.
–Yeh let one in.
–It wasn’t my fault.
–Course it wasn’t.
–Muggah McCarthy let it through his legs an’—
Veronica looked at Darren.
–Get up, you, and wash some of that muck off you.
The twins came in as Darren went out.
–Ma, Da, said Linda.—Can we keep this?
It was a pup, a tiny black wad of fluff with four skinny legs and a tail that would have looked long on a fully grown dog. It was shaking in Linda’s hands, terrified.
–No, said Veronica, and—Yeah, said Jimmy Sr at the same time.—Yeh can o’ course.
–Not after the last one, said Veronica.—They never stopped crying after Bonzo got run over. And Darren and Sharon.
–And you, said Jimmy Sr.
–Ah, Mammy. We won’t cry this time. Sure we won’t, Tracy?
–Yeah, said Tracy.—We’ll tie the gate so he can’t get ou’.
–No, I said.
–Ah, Ma-mmy! Let’s.
–Who’ll feed it? Veronica wanted to know.
–Wha’ is it? said Jimmy Sr.
–A dog, said Linda.—It’ll grow bigger.
–Will it? said Jimmy Sr.—That’s very clever.
Veronica laughed. She couldn’t help it.
Tracy pounced.
–Can we keep it, Mammy? Can we?
–Alright, said Veronica.
Jimmy Sr beamed at her.
–When was the last time you brushed your teeth? she asked him.
–This mornin’!
–With Guinness, was it?
She looked at the twins.
–You’re to feed it, the two of you.—An’ it’s not to come into the house.
–The ’Malley’s dog had it, Linda told them.—He had loads o’ them.
–Can we get another one, Ma? One each.
–No!
–Aah.
–No.
–One’ll do yis, said Jimmy Sr.—Show us it here.
Linda handed the pup to Jimmy Sr.
Jimmy Jr walked back in.
–What’s tha’? A rat?
–It is not a rat, Jimmy Rabbitte, said Tracy.—It’s a dog.
–It’s a dog, righ’, said Linda.
It was warm and quivering. Jimmy Sr could feel its bones.
–Wha’ sort of a dog is it but? he asked.
–Black, said Tracy.
–Go ’way! said Jimmy Jr.
–I’m your new da, Jimmy Sr told it.
They all laughed.
–An’, look it. There’s your mammy makin’ the tea.
He made its paw wave at Veronica. Linda and Tracy were delighted. They couldn’t wait to do that.
–Give us it, said Linda, and she pulled at it.
–Easy!—for Jaysis sake, said Jimmy Sr.—You’ll break the poor little bastard.
He lifted it up by the skin at the back of its neck and looked under it.
–It’s a young fella, he told Veronica.
–Thank God, said Veronica.
–How do yeh know tha’? Tracy wanted to know.
–It’s written there. Look.
–It isn’t.—Where is it?
Then the pup puked on Jimmy Sr’s shoulder.
–Oh, look it, said Linda.
She tried to rub it off before her mammy saw it and changed her mind.
–Leave it, leave it, said Jimmy Sr.—What’re you laughin’ at?
–Nothin’ much, said Jimmy Jr.
–Put it in the back, said Veronica.
Jimmy Sr put the pup on the table so he could get to the sink and clean his shoulder. It stood there, rattling, its paws slipping on the formica, and pissed on it.
Tracy grabbed it and ran for the door and Jimmy Sr had the piss in a J-cloth and under the tap before Veronica had time to turn from the cooker to see what had happened.
Jimmy Sr studied his shoulder.
–That’s grand.
–Change it, said Veronica.
–Not at all, said Jimmy Sr.—It’s grand.
Tracy came back in with the pup clinging to the front of her jumper.