A Chancer

by Kelman, James

  Aye John . . . Donnie raised his eyebrows and lifted his pint.

  Tammas laughed.

  I’m being serious but, replied John. The kind of guys go about these clubs man they probably carry shooters and all that!

  That’s shite.

  It might not be, said Billy.

  Tammas frowned at him.

  Naw I mean I wouldnt be too sure.

  Ach away for fuck sake Billy.

  Naw Tammas . . .

  Shooters!

  Shooters! What’s this, shooters? Rab laughed as he sat back down on his chair. I cant leave yous for a minute for Christ sake shooters! What’re yous fucking on about now? Shooters!

  Ask them, said Tammas.

  Donnie grinned. Tammas is wanting to go to a casino.

  I’m no wanting to go to a fucking casino man it’s a club, just a fucking club, where they play cards.

  A gambling club . . . Rab nodded. Tammas ya bastard if you can afford to go to a fucking gambling club you can afford to weigh us in with a bit fucking more of your Blackpool money.

  Exactly! shouted Billy.

  Fuck off, muttered Tammas. He stood up and looked about the table, then finished the remainder of his beer. I’m away to buy myself a pint before I die of thirst.

  Rain was drizzling down when they came out of the pub, heading along in the direction of Billy’s place. They had chipped in for a carry out of beer which John was holding. As they passed a side street Donnie halted, he sniffed aloud. Chips!

  Billy cried: Donnie, I keep telling you, my maw’ll stick us on a big pot of soup.

  Aye, aye, so what, I’ll no stop her! Donnie grinned and made to walk off round the corner. Sure none of yous’re interested?

  Naw, said Rab, you’re the only one as usual ya greedy bastard!

  Donnie laughed, patted himself on the belly; he disappeared round the corner. Farther along they paused by a shop window; the interior lights were on to display the goods. John placed the carrier bag of beer on the ground inside the shop doorway and stood with it balanced upright between his feet. It’s that big belly he’s got . . . Donnie I mean, he’s got more to fill than us.

  Billy nodded. He’s putting the weight on.

  It’s just the bevy, said Tammas. But fair enough, he has slowed down hell of a lot. I noticed that this afternoon at the football.

  Ach he was always slow, said Rab. He turned and cleared his throat and spat out into the street.

  Still a good player.

  Aye but too slow, just too fucking slow . . . Rab put his hands into his trouser pockets and stepped sideways, leaning against the shop window with his shoulder.

  After a moment John said: What soup is it?

  What soup is it? How the fuck do I know! Billy grinned and shook his head.

  Well I hope it’s no minestrone. All these wee bits of stuff floating about.

  Rab said, You’re a dickie ya cunt ye!

  Ah well you dont fucking know what you’re eating man that’s what I dont like.

  You’re thinking of curry, said Tammas.

  Thinking of curry! Billy roared.

  Tammas laughed and he made a move as though to punch Billy; then they both crouched to face each other, fists raised.

  Seconds away!

  Tammas and Billy circled each other.

  Hey yous!

  Two policemen were standing on the other side of the street. They stepped off the pavement and strolled across. One of them said to Tammas: What’s up then?

  Eventually Tammas replied, Nothing.

  What d’you mean nothing?

  We were just kidding.

  Just kidding?

  Aye, said Billy, honest.

  Tammas added, We’re waiting on somebody.

  The policeman glanced at his companion: They’re waiting on somebody.

  Mmm . . . The other policeman nodded.

  Honest, said Tammas, he’s just round the corner for a bag of chips man he’ll no be a minute.

  Bag of chips man he’ll no be a minute. The first policeman smiled at Tammas: What is that? a bag of chips man . . . Heh, he said to the other policeman, d’you know what that is? a bag of chips man. What is it, is it the same as a black pudding?

  The other policeman smiled and then he gazed at the carrier bag, and looked at John. John lifted the carrier bag and handed it over to him. The policeman gazed inside; he moved the cans about. When he handed it back to John he said, On your way.

  But the mate’ll be here in a minute, replied Tammas.

  On your way I said, move!

  He’s just round the corner in the bloody chip shop! cried Rab.

  What . . . what was that? The first policeman frowned and he stepped closer to Rab. What was that? What d’you say there? I never really heard you right son what was it?

  Rab looked away.

  Naw I thought you might’ve swore there son but I’m no sure. Did you I mean? Did you swear?

  After a moment the other policeman asked: Where d’you stay?

  Just along the road, said Billy.

  I’m no asking you I’m asking him. The policeman pointed to Rab. It’s you I’m asking.

  Rab sniffed. He was standing away from the window now. He replied, Scotstoun.

  Scotstoun. Fine, right, the bus-stop’s over the road.

  Aye but he’s coming up to my house, said Billy.

  Naw he’s no, no the night he’s no, he’s changed his mind, he’s just going home.

  I’m no, said Rab.

  Aye you are, you’ve changed your mind.

  I have not changed my mind.

  The first policeman grinned: He’s steamboats anyhow, look at him, he can hardly stand.

  If you ask me they’re all steamboats . . . The policeman shook his head. He glanced at Rab: What’s wrong? Can you no hold your drink or something?

  Tammas stepped over, nearby Rab, and he said to him: Come on man time we were moving.

  I’ll tell you something, said the policeman, it’s time yous were all moving; and if yous are no out of here in five minutes flat I’ll do the lot of yous. Ye listening now? D’yous understand?

  After a brief silence the other policeman gestured with his thumb: On your way.

  Move! said the first one. Then his attention was attracted to John who was pointing along the street. Donnie had appeared. He was walking quite quickly, then he slowed. He was holding the bag of fish and chips in his left hand and in his right he held a chip. He continued on towards them, putting the chip into his mouth.

  John said, It’s the mate.

  Just keep walking, grunted the policeman, just keep walking. And yous go with him, and dont stop, dont even look back.

  Tammas nudged Rab with his elbow and the five of them continued on along the street in silence. It was Donnie who spoke first. What the fuck happened?

  Billy replied, Tell you in the house.

  Dirty bastards, muttered Rab, the dirty fucking bastards.

  Tammas nodded. I’m leaving this dump man I’m definitely leaving, definitely fucking leaving.

  Okay Tammas you can take my place! Donnie gestured at him with a chip and grinned: You go to New Zealand and I’ll just stay here.

  Rab swivelled round and grabbed him by the shoulder and shouted: You dont go to New Zealand man and I’ll fucking have ye, I’ll fucking have ye man . . .

  What! Donnie moved forwards, turning and picking off his hand: What d’you say ya cunt?

  You fucking heard what I said!

  Aye I fucking heard alright!

  Ya bastard . . .

  What? Donnie was glaring at him, the bag of chips and fish clutched in his left hand.

  This is fucking hopeless, cried Billy.

  Well what’s up with him then? shouted Donnie.

  He just had bother with the fucking polis! Tammas said, Did you no notice?

  Donnie glanced at him, then poked himself on the chest: Well he shouldnt get fucking onto me that’s all I’m fucking saying.

  Ta
mmas nodded.

  John said, Come on, we better go, just in case they come.

  I agree, said Billy.

  You always fucking agree, muttered Tammas.

  Aye, just get onto me now.

  What?

  Well, fuck sake . . .

  Tammas looked at him. Then he added, Right, sorry; sorry.

  Let’s just go up the house out the road.

  Tammas nodded.

  Donnie said, I think I’ll just go home.

  Naw you’re no, you’re fucking coming – eh Tammas?

  Tammas smiled.

  Come on, said Rab. Donnie . . . I shouldnt’ve fucking . . . He sniffed: Sorry about that. I mean I shouldnt’ve fucking . . . He shook his head.

  Donnie nodded, he squashed the bag of fish and chips into a ball and he threw it into the gutter.

  •••

  They travelled by hoist up to the 2nd floor. It was quiet here, hardly any machinery. Most of the workers were female. A transistor radio was playing pop music. Ralphie grinned and nudged Tammas; they walked in the direction of the foreman’s office, down between rows of long workbenches where women were cutting rectangular sections out of ragged, flat pieces of plastic, the discarded bits being tossed into wide containers beneath the benches. Ralphie paused by one of the women for a chat. Beside her two girls were working and talking together while slicing through the plastic with short stubby knives.

  They continued on to the office. Ralphie chapped the door and opened it and entered immediately. The foreman had been studying sheets of paper. He squinted up at them and said: It’s yourself Ralphie?

  Aye.

  Hh! So how’s life?

  No bad, no bad. Wee McCreadie’s retired.

  I heard, I heard. He’ll be dead in a month!

  Ralphie smiled.

  Shouldnt say that I suppose! The foreman raised his eyebrows; he folded his arms then sat back on his chair. So . . . what can I do for you?

  Ralphie shrugged. Me and the boy here were told to report to you.

  Were you? Hh, well well well. He unfolded his arms and sat forwards again, took a tipped cigarette from the packet on the desk; and when he had it alight he sat back, resting his elbows on the chair-arms. He said: Know who I saw last week?

  Ralphie shook his head.

  Thompson. Mind of him?

  Thompson?

  Over your way he worked.

  Eh . . .

  Big heavy set kind of fellow.

  Thompson?

  Aye, no mind of him?

  Eh . . . naw, cant say I do, cant say I do, to be honest.

  The foreman grinned. You’re getting auld son you’re getting auld!

  Thanks a lot!

  Naw, so . . . The foreman leaned forwards and said: Yous’ve lost the Belgian order eh! Pity, pity.

  Ralphie shrugged.

  So what d’you do now?

  Ah they’re talking about the nightshift coming off for good.

  Are they? Aye, I heard that.

  Ralphie nodded.

  Aye, it’s a game! So, yous’ve to report to me eh! He glanced at Tammas. It must be the shifting they want you on. Nothing else I can think of. The two of yous Ralphie, on the shifting, the lassies’ bins – got to shift them out the road when they get full otherwise they cant get working properly. He paused and he took a long drag on his cigarette. When he exhaled he blew the smoke onto the desk, scattering ash from out the ashtray. You take the bins out the back yard, he said. You’ll see the pitch when you get there. Okay?

  Okay, aye . . . Ralphie paused then turned to leave.

  The foreman said: So how d’you fancy this neck of the woods?

  In here you mean?

  Aye . . . The foreman winked. The lassies and that . . . They’re good workers mind you, I’ll say that for them!

  Ralphie nodded. I know what you mean. By the way, I take it we use a bogie or something?

  O aye, aye. You’ll get one up in the storeroom maybe, or out in the yard. And Ralphie, mind the bins – you know what like they are in this bloody place! Steal the braces off your trousers if you gave them the chance!

  On their way back down between the row of benches Ralphie paused to say something to the woman he had spoken to earlier but she contorted her face and continued to stare at the plastic in front of her, and she whispered: Dont look now but he’s keeking out the window!

  O Jesus Christ . . . Ralphie smothered a laugh and they walked on at once.

  At the top end of the section the two girls were now assisting another woman load a flat trolley with cut plastic sections. The woman said something to them and they laughed loudly.

  The hoist arrived and Tammas pulled open the gates; and when Ralphie stepped inside he closed the gates, and pressed the button for the ground floor.

  Behind the rear yard the factory was bound by a canal. There were thick clusters of nettles, different sorts of weeds, some growing to enormous heights; twisted in amongst the roots were barbed wire, other wire, strips of plastic and various kinds of rubbish. On the canal surface more rubbish lay trapped in a mixture of oils and solvents.

  Ralphie was stuffing tobacco into the bowl of his pipe. Seated between him and Tammas was an elderly guy by the name of Benny who chainsmoked hand-rolled cigarettes. They were sitting on old piping, with their backs resting against the boiler room wall. Benny was the boilerman. When he had lighted a new cigarette he pointed to a part of the canal and said to Tammas: Just there son. I’ve seen that wee teuchter who works in the blacksquad catch a perch as big as your arm with a bit of wire and a bent pin. Aye and I’m no fucking kidding either – eh Ralph?

  Aye.

  Tammas nodded.

  See son the canal’s stowed out with fish. They’re no like us at all I mean fuck sake if we fell in we wouldnt fucking drown, we’d die of dipfuckingtheria, but no the fish, not only do they survive they fucking thrive. That right Ralph?

  Ralphie nodded. At one time they used to send folk down from the university.

  That’s right son. See what they were doing, they were experimenting with the oil the fish has inside its body. It’s to do with their gut, they’ve got some fucking thing allows them to separate the good out from the bad.

  Hh. Tammas rose from where he was sitting and he stretched and yawned, then sat back down and yawned again: Wonder what time it is?

  The back of two, said Benny.

  What?

  I would say about 5 past.

  Christ, it must be more than that surely?

  Naw.

  Fuck sake!

  My watch is through there if you want to check.

  Ralphie was smiling. No patience Benny, these young yins nowadays. Same with that fucking Belgian order – they’re all up to high doh worrying about it as well. I dont see the point myself.

  You’re right. I mean it’d be a different story if it affected the whole fucking place but it doesnt, just one fucking section.

  Aye, said Ralphie, ours!

  Ah well that’s as maybe; could be yours could be mine’s.

  Ralphie chuckled. How could it be yours ya auld fucking fox ye! The boiler room! That’s the last place to go. And well you fucking know it!

  Naw I’m just saying but Ralph I’m just saying.

  Ralphie smiled and shook his head. He put the pipe back into his mouth and sucked, but it had stopped burning. He took out his matches.

  Ah! Tammas got onto his feet again and put his hands on his hips and stretched.

  Cant keep still a minute!

  I’m getting stiff sitting down.

  Ralphie shook his head, he struck the match he was holding and began getting his pipe going.

  You can blame your football, said Benny. You’re talking about being stiff sitting down son it’s cause of your football, that’s what you should fucking blame. That’s the cause of it. Yous all go running about daft every dinner time and then yous stop all of a sudden, and your muscles dont cope, they just fucking stiffen up. Same as these athle
tes. Their bodies are all highly tuned up. So they’ve got to run a fucking race cause they’ve been training. See if they dont son, their fucking bodies, their muscles, they all get fucking knotted up. And sometimes they can wind up catching the flu out it.

  Tammas nodded. He took a half smoked cigarette from behind his ear and he struck a match against the brickwork.

  •••

  He sat down with the Evening Times before lighting the cigarette, turned down the volume of the radio a little. Then he laid the paper on the table and placed his elbows on it, resting his chin on his thumbs, his hands covering the front of his face. The sound he made was half sigh, half groan. Withdrawing his hands abruptly he sat back on the chair and stretched his arms, the fingers of each hand outspread; the cigarette fell and he snatched it from out of his groin. The kettle was whistling. He used the boiling water to top up the bowl containing dirty cutlery and dishes and he washed them all and then dried them. He went through to the living room where his sister was watching television. At half past seven he got up from where he was sitting, he strolled to the window and gazed out.

  There’s a good film coming on, she said, spies or something.

  Aw aye, good. I’ll be back later.

  In his own room he lay on the bed with his hands clasped beneath the back of his head. He stared at the ceiling for a while. Eventually he turned onto his side to reach for the book that was lying on top of the adjacent cupboard but he did not open the pages, he lay back down again with his eyelids shut.

  A knock on the door roused him. It was Margaret, asking if he wanted a coffee. He glanced at the clock while telling her to come in.

  Coffee?

  Eh aye . . . aye Margaret, thanks.

  D’you want it ben here?

  He shrugged then added: Aye, ta.

  She had turned and was going back out when he called, Eh Margaret.

  She paused, looked at him.

  Any chance of a pound till Friday?

  She smiled. I knew it – after you getting everything up to date at the weekend; I knew you would leave yourself short. You didnt have to give me so much.

  I thought I would’ve lasted.

  I’ll bring it with the coffee.

  It’s okay, he said getting down from the bed. And he followed her to the kitchen. She opened her bag and took out her purse. After she had given him the £1 she lifted the kettle to fill it from the tap. But he said, Dont bother Margaret, I think I’ll just nick out for a pint.