Mothers and Sons by Colm Tóibín

over the door, listing what was available and how much it cost, information which Nancy had given the boss some days before.
    ‘We’ll light this too,’ he said. ‘And then these are the prices you told me but you can change the numbers easily. I’ll leave you extra numbers. Now, before we go any further, I have two pieces of advice for you. The first is patience. Patience. The oil takes time and the chips take time and the batter takes time and the burgers take time.The customer wants the stuff now and the smell of it cooking has his eyes watering and his tongue hanging out. Don’t pay any attention to him, that’s my advice to you, because he’ll be the first to spread the news that the chips were raw and the batter was runny. So that’s the first. And the second is this. When you put the bag of chips into the brown bag, throw in a few more chips, it’ll cost you nothing but it’ll look good, like value for money, and they’ll all love you. Now they’re two useful pieces of advice.’
    ‘Do you charge for the ketchup?’ Gerard asked.
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘Salt, vinegar and ketchup are free.’
    ‘What will we do if it breaks down?’ Nancy asked.
    ‘We’re not leaving here without bringing a feast of chips with us to eat on the road. So it’ll have to work. And you’d better start unfreezing the burgers. You don’t want to be giving them indigestion.’
    S HE CLOSED the supermarket one hour early at eight; Catherine went home, still having expressed no interest in what was happening next door. Her two daughters came downstairs just as the sign was being screwed into place over the door and the light behind it turned on. It was dark in the square now. She and Gerard and the girls and the boss crossed the street until they were standing close to the monument; she saw how bright and modern and clean her new chip shop was. As they stood there, the two girls who used to work in the supermarket arrived and they too gazed at the new chip shop.
    The oil was already heating, the hamburgers and the fishin batter were defrosting and the first plastic bag of readymade frozen chips sat on the floor waiting until the moment when the oil was hot enough and they could be thrown in and fried. Nancy went upstairs and brought some cloths down and started to wipe every surface clean as the girls who had come to work cleaned the windows and Gerard swept the floor. They were open for business.
    The boss had been right about the need for patience. He stood close to her as she threw the first bag in and watched her step back in fright as the uncooked chips hit the boiling oil in a great sizzle.
    ‘Now,’ he said, ‘another golden rule. Watched chips never fry.’
    ‘How long will they take?’ Gerard asked.
    ‘Fifteen minutes,” he said. ‘No more, no less. And the fish is the same and the hamburger on the hotplate is the same.’
    As the chips cooked, the men came one by one from the bathroom where they had washed themselves and shaved. Nancy had already paid the second instalment, but she had an envelope ready with a tip for each of the men.
    ‘Well, there’s one thing I’ve forgotten and you haven’t noticed it’s missing,’ the boss said. ‘So stop looking at the chips for a minute and think. Look around.’
    They all looked around as the chips sizzled. Nancy could think of nothing.
    ‘What if they order a lemonade or a Pepsi Cola? What will you do?’
    ‘I have them in the fridge,’ she said.
    ‘Yes, but if you look at the list I gave you, it included a new machine for dispensing soft drinks. So where is it?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ she said.
    ‘I forgot it.’ He laughed.
    It was close to nine o’clock when she fished the first chips from the oil with the big new metal implement.
    ‘You’re an old hand already,’ the boss said. ‘It’s like you were one of the Cafollas.’
    She noticed that people passing began to stop and peer into the shop. As she filled the bags with chips and poured vinegar