Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha by Roddy Doyle Page A

boys’ hut and wreck it but I didn’t go; I wanted to stay with Da. I sat beside him up and down the road. We went to Raheny. When he was turning he went right over the road and brushed the ditch.
    —Stupid place to put a ditch, he said.
    A fella honked at him.
    —Bloody eejit, said my da, and he honked back when the fella was gone.
    We came back to Barrytown along the main road and Da put the foot down. We rolled down our windows. I stuck my elbow out but he wouldn’t let me. He parked outside on the verge two gates down from our house.
    —That’ll do us, he said.
    Sinbad was in the back.
    We went on a picnic the next day. It was raining but we went anyway; me and Sinbad in the back, my ma beside my da with Catherine on her knee. Deirdre wasn’t born yet then. My ma’s belly was all round, filling up with her. We went to Dollymount.
    —Why not the mountains? I wanted to know.
    —Stay quiet, Patrick, said my ma.
    Da was getting ready to go from Barrytown Road onto the main road. We could have walked to Dollymount. We could see the island from where we were in the car. Da made it across and right. The Cortina jerked a bit and made a noise like when you pressed your lips together and blew. And something scraped when we went right in to the kerb.
    —What’s that sound from?
    —Shhh, said Ma.
    She wasn’t enjoying herself; I could tell. She needed a decent day out.
    —There’s the mountains, I said.
    I got between her seat and his seat and pointed out the mountains to them, across the bay, not that far.
    -Look.
    —Sit down!
    Sinbad was on the floor.
    —There’s forests there.
    —Stay quiet, Patrick.
    —Sit down, you bloody eejit.
    Dollymount was only a mile away. Maybe a bit more, but not much. You had to cross over to the island on a wooden bridge; the rest was boring.
    —The toilet, said Sinbad.
    —Jesus Christ!
    —Pat, my ma said to my da.
    —If we go to the mountains, I said,—he can go behind one of the trees.
    —I’ll swing you from one of the trees if you don’t sit down out of my light!
    —Your father’s nervous—
    —I’m not!
    He was.
    —I just want a bit of peace.
    —The mountains are very peaceful.
    Sinbad said that. The two of them laughed, Ma and Da in the front, especially Da.
    We got there, Dollymount, but he had to drive past the bridge twice before he could slow down enough to turn onto it and not miss it and drive through the sea wall. It was still raining. He parked the car facing the sea. The tide was way out so we couldn’t see it. Anyway, with the engine off the wipers weren’t working. The best thing about it was the noise of the rain on the roof. Ma had an idea; we could go home and have the picnic there.
    —No, said Da.
    He held the wheel.
    —We’re here now, he said,—so—
    He tapped the wheel.
    Ma got the straw bag up from between her feet and dished out the picnic.
    —Don’t get crumbs and muck all over the place, Da said.
    He was talking to me and Sinbad.
    We had to eat the sandwiches; there was no place to hide them. They were nice; egg. They’d gone real flat; there were no holes left in the bread. We had a can of Fanta between us, me and Sinbad. Ma wouldn’t let us open it. She had the opener. She hooked it under the rim of the can and pressed once for the triangular hole for drinking out of and again, for the hole on the other side for the air to go into. After a few slugs each I could feel little bits of food in the Fanta; I could feel them when I was swallowing. The Fanta was warm.
    Ma and Da said nothing. They had a flask with tea in it. There was the cup off the top of the flask and a real cup that Ma had wrapped in toilet paper. She held out the cups for Da to hold so she could pour but he didn’t take them off her. He was looking straight in front of him at the rain milling down the windscreen. She didn’t say anything. She put one cup down and filled it, over Catherine’s head. She held it out; Da took it. It was the big cup, the one off the