The Snapper Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

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  THE SNAPPER

  Roddy Doyle is an internationally bestselling writer. His first three novels—The Commitments, The Snapper, and 1991 Booker Prize finalist The Van—are available both singly and in one volume as The Barrytown Trilogy, published by Penguin. He is also the author of the novels Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha (1993 Booker Prize winner), The Woman Who Walked Into Doors, A Star Called Henry, and Oh, Play That Thing, and a nonfiction book about his parents, Rory & Ita. Doyle has also written for the stage and the screen: the plays Brownbread, War, Guess Who’s Coming for the Dinner, and The Woman Who Walked Into Doors; the film adaptations of The Commitments (as cowriter), The Snapper, and The Van; When Brendan Met Trudy (an original screenplay); the four-part television series Family for the BBC; and the television play Hell for Leather. Roddy Doyle has also written the children’s books The Giggler Treatment, Rover Saves Christmas, and The Meanwhile Adventures and contributed to a variety of publications including The New Yorker magazine, the anthology Speaking with the Angel (edited by Nick Hornby), and the serial novel Yeats Is Dead! (edited by Joseph O’Connor). He lives in Dublin.

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  First published in Great Britain by

  Martin Seeker & Warburg Limited 1990

  Published in Penguin Books 1992

  19 20

  Copyright © Roddy Doyle, 1990

  All rights reserved

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING IN PUBLICATION DATA

  Doyle, Roddy. 1958-

  The snapper/Roddy Doyle.

  p. cm.

  eISBN : 978-0-140-17167-9

  I. Title.

  PR6054.O95S64 1992

  823’914-dc20 91-43433

  . Sabon

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  This book is dedicated to

  Belinda

  —You’re wha’? said Jimmy Rabbitte Sr.

  He said it loudly.

  —You heard me, said Sharon.

  Jimmy Jr was upstairs in the boys’ room doing his D.J. practice. Darren was in the front room watching Police Academy II on the video. Les was out. Tracy and Linda, the twins, were in the front room annoying Darren. Veronica, Mrs Rabbitte, was sitting opposite Jimmy Sr at the kitchen table.

  Sharon was pregnant and she’d just told her father that she thought she was. She’d told her mother earlier, before the dinner.

  —Oh—my Jaysis, said Jimmy Sr.

  He looked at Veronica. She looked tired. He looked at Sharon again.

  —That’s shockin’, he said.

  Sharon said nothing.

  —Are yeh sure? said Jimmy Sr.

  —Yeah. Sort of.

  —Wha’?

  —Yeah.

  Jimmy Sr wasn’t angry. He probably wouldn’t be either, but it all seemed very unfair.

  —You’re only nineteen, he said.

  —I’m twenty.

  —You’re only twenty.

  —I know what age I am, Daddy.

  —Now, there’s no need to be gettin’ snotty, said Jimmy Sr.

  —Sorry, said Sharon.

  She nearly meant it.

  —I’m the one tha’ should be gettin’ snotty, said Jimmy Sr.

  Sharon made herself smile. She was happy with the way things were going so far.

  —It’s shockin‘, said Jimmy Sr again,—so it is. Wha’ do you think o’ this?

  He was talking to Veronica.

  —I don’t know, said Veronica.

  —Is tha’ the best yeh can do, Veronica?

  —Well, what do YOU think?

  Jimmy Sr creased his face and held it that way for a second.

  —I don’t know, he said.—I should give ou‘, I suppose. An’ throw a wobbler or somethin’. But—what’s the point?

  Veronica nodded. She looked very tired now.

  Jimmy Sr continued.

  —If she was—

  He turned to Sharon.

  —You should’ve come to us earlier—before, yeh know —an’ said you were goin’ to get pregnant.

  The three of them tried to laugh.

  —Then we could’ve done somethin’ abou’ it.—My God, though.

  No one said anything. Then Jimmy Sr spoke to Sharon again.

  —You’re absolutely sure now? Positive?

  —Yeah, I am. I done—

  —Did, said Veronica.

  —I did the test.

  —The test? said Jimmy Sr.—Oh.—Did yeh go in by yourself?

  —Yeah, said Sharon.

  —Did yeh? Fair play to yeh, said Jimmy Sr.—I’d never’ve thought o’ tha’.

  Sharon and Veronica looked at each other, and grinned quickly.

  Jimmy Sr got down to business.

  —Who was it?

  —Wha’?—Oh. I don’t know.

  —Ah now, jaysis—!

  —No, I do know.

  —Well, then?

  —I’m not tellin’.

  Jimmy Sr could feel himself getting a bit angry now. That was better.

  —Now, look—

  They heard Jimmy Jr from up in the boys’ room.

  —THIS IS JIMMY RABBITTE - ALL - OVER - IRELAND.

  —Will yeh listen to tha’ fuckin’ eejit, said his father.

  —Leave him alone, said Veronica.

  Jimmy Sr stared at the ceiling.

  —I don’t know.

  Then he turned to Sharon again.

  —Why won’t yeh tell us?

  Sharon said nothing. Jimmy Sr saw her eyes filling with water.

  —Don’t start tha’, he told her.—Just tell us.

  —I can’t, Sharon told the table.

  —Why not?

  —I just can’t, righ’.

  Jimmy Sr looked across at Veronica and shook his head. He’d never been able to cope with answers like that. If Sharon had been one of the boys he’d have walloped her.

  Veronica looked worried now. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to
know the answer.

  —Is he married? Jimmy Sr asked.

  —Oh my God, said Veronica.

  —No, he’s not! said Sharon.

  —Well, that’s somethin’, I suppose, said Jimmy Sr. —Then why—

  Veronica started crying.

  —Ah Veronica, stop tha’.

  Linda ran in.

  —Daddy, Darren’s after hittin’ me.

  She was getting ready to cry.

  —Jesus! Another one, said Jimmy Sr.

  Then he spoke to Linda.

  —I’ll go in in a minute an’ I’ll hit Darren an’ you can watch me hittin’ him.

  —Can I?

  —Yeah, yeh can. Now get ou’ or I’ll practise on you first.

  Linda squealed and ran away from him. She stopped at the safe side of the kitchen door.

  —Can Tracy watch as well? she asked.

  —She can o’ course. Now, your mammy an’ Sharon an’ me are havin’ a chat, so leave us alone.

  Jimmy Sr looked at the two women. The crying had stopped.

  —THIS IS JIMMY RABBITTE - ALL - OVER - IRELAND.

  —Oh good Jesus, what a house!—Is he queer or wha’ is he? Jimmy Sr asked Sharon.

  —No, he’s not. He’s alrigh’; leave him alone.

  -I don’t know, said Jimmy Sr.—Tha’ gear he wears. He had his trous—

  —That’s only the fashion.

  -I suppose so. But, Jaysis.

  He looked at Veronica. She just looked tired again.

  -This is an awful shock, Sharon, he said.—Isn’t it, Veronica?

  —Definitely.

  —Make us a cup o’ tea there, love, will yeh.

  —Make it yourself, said Veronica.

  —I’!! make it, said Sharon.

  —Good girl, said Jimmy Sr.—Mind yourself against the table there. Good girl. -You’re sure now he’s not married?

  —Yeah, he’s not, said Sharon, at the sink.

  —Then why won’t yeh tell us then?

  —Look, said Sharon.

  She turned to face him.

  —I can’t, an’ I’m not goin’ to.

  She turned back to plug in the kettle.

  —Will he marry you? Jimmy Sr asked her.

  -No. I don’t think so.

  —The louser. That’s cheatin‘, tha’ is.

  —It’s not a game! said Veronica.

  —I know, I know tha‘, Veronica. But it’s his fault as much as Sharon’s. Whoever he is.—It was his flute tha’—

  —Daddy!

  —Well, it was.

  —It’s no wonder they all talk the way they do, Veronica gave out to Jimmy Sr.

  —Ah, lay off, Veronica, will yeh.

  They heard a scream from the front room.

  —Hang on till I sort this young fella ou’, said Jimmy Sr. He marched out of the kitchen.

  —He’s taking it well, said Veronica.

  —Yeah, said Sharon.—So are you.

  —Ah sure—

  —I was afraid you’d throw me ou’.

  —I never thought of that, mind you.—It’s not right though, said Veronica.

  She looked straight at Sharon.

  —I suppose it’s not, said Sharon.

  Jimmy Sr came back, rubbing his hands and calling Darren a sneaky little bastard. He sat down and saw the tea waiting for him.

  —Aah, lovely.

  He sipped.

  —Fuck!—Sorry, Veronica; excuse me. It’s very hot.

  —He’s started saying Excuse me. After twenty-two years.

  —Good luck, Jimmy Jr roared from the front door, and then he slammed it.

  —He shuts the door like a normal man annyway. That’s somethin’, I suppose.

  —He’s alrigh’, said Sharon.

  Jimmy Sr now said something he’d heard a good few times on the telly.

  —D’yeh want to keep it?

  —Wha’ d’yeh mean?

  —D‘yeh—d’you want to keep it, like?

  —He wants to know if you want to have an abortion, said Veronica.—The eejit.

  —I do not! said Jimmy Sr.

  This was true. He was sorry now he’d said it.

  —There’s no way I’d have an abortion, said Sharon.

  -Good. You’re right.

  —Abortion’s murder.

  —It is o’ course.

  Then he thought of something and he had to squirt his tea back into the cup. He could hear his heart. And feel it.

  He looked at Sharon.

  —He isn’t a black, is he?

  —No!

  He believed her. The three of them started laughing.

  —One o’ them students, yeh know, Jimmy Sr explained. —With a clatter o’ wives back in Africa.

  —Stop that.

  Jimmy Sr’s tea was finished.

  —That was grand, Sharon, thanks, he said.—An’ you’re def’ny not goin’ to tell us who it is?

  -No.—Sorry.

  —Never mind the Sorry.—I think you should tell us. I’m not goin’ to kill him or annythin’.

  Sharon said nothing.

  Jimmy Sr pushed his chair back from the table.

  —There’s no point in anny more talkin’ then, I suppose. Your mind’s obviously made up, Sharon.

  He stood up.

  —A man needs a pint after all tha’, he said.

  —Is that all? said Veronica, shocked.

  —Wha’ d’yeh mean, Veronica?

  —It’s a terrible—Veronica started.

  But she couldn’t really go on. She thought that Sharon’s news deserved a lot more attention, and some sort of punishment. As far as Veronica was concerned this was the worst thing that had ever happened the family. But she couldn’t really explain why, not really. And she knew that, anyway, nothing could be done about it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad once she got used to it.

  Then she thought of something.

  —The neighbours, she said.

  —Wha’ abou’ them? said Jimmy Sr.

  Veronica thought for a bit.

  —What’ll they say? she then said.

  —You don’t care wha’ tha’ lot says, do yeh? said Jimmy Sr.

  —Yes. I do.

  —Ah now, Veronica.

  He sat down.

  Sharon spoke.

  —They’ll have a laugh when they find ou’ an’ they’ll try an’ guess who I’m havin’ it for. An’ that’s all.—An’ anyway, I don’t care.

  —An’ that’s the important thing, Jimmy Sr told Veronica. Veronica didn’t look convinced.

  —Sure look, said Jimmy Sr.—The O‘Neill young ones have had kids, the both o’ them. An’—an’ the Bells would be the same ‘cept they don’t have anny daughters, but yeh know wha’ I mean.

  —Dawn O‘Neill had her baby for Paddy Bell, Sharon reminded him.

  —She did o’ course, said Jimmy Sr.

  He stood up.

  —So there now, Veronica, he said.—Fuck the neighbours.

  Veronica tried to look as if she’d been won over. She wanted to go up to bed. She nodded.

  Jimmy Sr had a nice idea.

  —Are yeh comin’ for a drink, Sharon?

  —No thanks, Daddy. I’ll stay in tonigh’.

  —Ah, go on.

  —Alrigh’, Sharon smiled.

  —Good girl. Yeh may as well—Veronica?

  —’M?—Ah no, no thanks.

  —Go on.

  -No. I’m goin’ up to bed.

  —I’d go up with yeh only I’ve a throat on me.

  Veronica smiled.

  —You’re sure now? said Jimmy Sr.

  —Yep, said Veronica.

  Sharon went for her jacket.

  —Will I bring yeh home a few chips? Jimmy Sr asked Veronica.

  —I’ll be asleep.

  —Fair enough.

  Jimmy Sr stopped at the front door and roared back to Veronica. —Cheerio now, Granny.

  Then he laughed, and slammed the door harder than Jimmy Jr had
.

  Jimmy Sr came back with the drinks and sat in beside Sharon. He hated the tables up here, in the lounge. You couldn’t get your legs in under them. Sharon couldn’t either. She sat side-saddle.

  —Thanks a lot, Daddy, said Sharon when she’d poured the Coke in with the vodka.

  —Ah, no problem, said Jimmy Sr.

  He’d never had a drink with Sharon before. He watched his pint settling, something he never did when he was downstairs in the bar. He only came up here on Sundays, and now.

  He turned to Sharon and spoke softly.

  —When’s it due an’ annyway?

  —November.

  Jimmy Sr did a few quick sums in his head.

  —You’re three months gone.

  -No. Nearly.

  —Yeh should’ve told us earlier.

  —I know.—I was scared to.

  —Ah, Sharon.—I still think you should tell us who the da is.

  —You can think away then.

  Jimmy Sr couldn’t help grinning. She’d always been like that.

  —I thought your mammy took it very well, he said.

  —Yeah, Sharon agreed.—She was great.

  —Cos she’s a bit ol’ fashioned like tha’. Set in her ways.

  —Yeah. No, she was great. So were you.

  —Ah, now.

  They said nothing after that for a bit. Jimmy Sr could think of nothing else to say. He looked around him: kids and yuppies. He sat there, feeling far from home. The lads would all be downstairs by now. Jimmy Sr had a good one he’d heard in work for them, about a harelip in a sperm-bank. He loved Sharon but, if the last five minutes were anything to go by, she was shocking drinking company.

  He noticed Jimmy Jr up at the stools with his pals.

  —There’s Jimmy, he said.

  —Yeah, said Sharon.

  —That’s an awful lookin’ shower he hangs around with.

  —They’re alrigh’.

  —The haircuts on them, look.

  —That’s only the fashion these days. Leave them alone.

  —I s’pose so, said Jimmy Sr.

  And they stopped again.

  There was only an hour to closing time but Jimmy Sr wasn’t sure he’d be able to stick it.

  —Wha’ does Jimmy be doin’ up there when he’s shoutin‘, yeh know, abou’ bein’ all over Ireland? he asked Sharon.

  —He wants to be a D.J.

  —A wha’?