Hh. Tammas shook his head.
He still owes you a couple of quid?
Aye . . . Tammas grimaced then returned to the bar to collect his pint and his food. Afterwards he left the pub and crossed the road to the betting shop.
At 4.45 that afternoon he was stamping his timecard and racing down the sloping corridor to the front yard, and across and out through the gates, and down the street. Others were running also. They dashed into the bookmaker’s just as the runners for the 4.45 race were about to come under starter’s orders. Tammas grabbed a betting slip and managed to scribble out a bet and get it on just as the race was off.
It was the last race of the day at that particular meeting but there was another meeting on; it had a race coming up at 5 pm and another at 5.30.
•••
Betty had her back to the shop window, staring at the pavement, her head bowed. Quite a few other people were standing about at this corner. He hesitated some yards away. Another girl was approached by a youth and together they walked off round into Argyll Street. Betty raised her head a moment later and she gazed after them. Her head was bowed again when he reached her. He tapped the side of her arm. Sorry I’m late.
She made no reply but linked arms with him.
I couldnt get a bloody bus. Ended up I just walked.
Walked? She smiled.
Aye.
Is it no a long way?
Aye. He shrugged. I do it a lot but, I quite like walking.
She nodded. They continued up Union Street in silence, until Betty smiled: I thought you’d forgotten!
Forgotten?
Have you been for a pint? she said, sniffing near to his mouth.
What – aye.
Is that how you’re late?
Naw, not at all . . . He paused; they stopped walking. Am I no allowed a pint on a Friday night!
Tch Tammas, I didnt mean that . . .
He nodded.
I was just meaning if that’s how you were late.
Aw, aye.
They were standing at the traffic lights; he had his hands in his trouser pockets and Betty was to his left, her arm linking his. A few other people were there also and they started across Gordon Street as the lights turned to amber. Tammas and Betty followed. After a bit she said, A girl in work was saying that the one in the ABC 2’s quite violent.
Hh.
That’s what she said, but . . . Betty shrugged, pursed her lips. D’you fancy it though?
Eh . . .
She was looking at him.
Eh, well . . . He sniffed and glanced suddenly across the street, checking slightly in his stride.
When they continued over to the other pavement she smiled at him: You fancy the pub, she said.
Naw. Naw Betty, honest.
Yes you do.
I dont, Christ.
She was smiling. I dont mind Tammas except I just dont like sitting all night in them. Sometimes I go with the people in the work and it gets awful boring, especially if some of them start to get a bit drunk. Rena’s the same. She doesnt often go out with them at all. And d’you know something else?
He nodded.
Naw, she said, about Rena?
What?
I’m saying do you know something else, about Rena?
About Rena? He frowned.
No Tammas . . . Betty shook her head, she grinned and tugged on his arm till he brought his hand out his pocket. And he looked at her. She sighed: No Tammas I was just saying, about Rena; she told me she wished Rab didnt drink so much.
Rena?
Aye, she said she thinks he’s drinking too much.
Hh!
She did.
He nodded.
Is it every Saturday night he goes to the pub?
He shrugged. No every one, I dont think . . . He paused and she withdrew her arm from his. He took his hands out his pockets. Betty . . . he said. He put his hands back into his pockets and hunched his shoulders.
They had stopped walking now and she was looking at him.
Eh . . .
What’s up? she asked. She frowned, glanced away, watching someone pass by, before turning to him again. What’s wrong? she said quietly.
Nothing, nothing, it’s no that, there’s nothing wrong. He patted her on the elbow, led her in to stand closeby a shop window. Naw, he said, it’s just – I’m skint. He sniffed and poked his right forefinger into the corner of his eye socket, blinked a couple of times, then brought out his cigarettes and lighted one. When he exhaled she asked: What d’you mean?
Naw. Just – I’m skint, I’ve no got any dough. Well – about . . . He took some change from his trouser pocket and displayed it on the palm of his hand. Sixty three pence.
Betty began to say something but stopped, frowning.
Naw, he said, I’m really . . . I just eh . . . He shut his eyelids.
I dont know what you mean Tammas, I dont know what it is; what is it? what d’you mean?
He sighed. He was gazing into the shop window then he glanced very briefly at her, and then up in the direction of the cinema. The September Weekend and that I just eh . . . I was really behind and . . . He shook his head, inhaling deeply on the cigarette. He turned to her, putting his arm round her shoulder but withdrew it at once and shook his head again: I’m really sorry Betty, honest.
Do you mean you’ve had to put your money bye for Blackpool?
Aye well, aye – but no just that I mean . . . you know how I’m living with my sister and that?
She nodded.
It’s just eh, I always like to pay my way and that, spot on, with the money and that, just to keep it right.
Aw.
I dont like to eh . . . He sighed, then he inhaled on the cigarette and gazed up Renfield Street.
Tammas. Betty smiled and linked arms with him. Dont be silly.
Naw, he said. He continued to gaze away from her.
Betty tugged at his arm. She smiled. Come on . . . God Tammas I’ve got money, if it’s just the pictures, my goodness. She chuckled.
Naw but that’s no fair Betty, hh, Christ.
Tammas, it’s alright, honest.
He shook his head.
Come on . . . She tugged on his arm again and then they carried on walking towards the cinema; but before arriving he stopped and brought his right hand out his pocket so that Betty had to withdraw her arm.
He was shaking his head. Naw, he said, and he sighed quite loudly. Betty . . . He rubbed his eyes. This is out of order. I’m sorry, I really . . . He touched her on the arm, just beneath her shoulder, then turned about and strode off across the street, and down the way, without looking back.
•••
His head jerked up from the pillow at the slight tremor of the clock and he switched off the alarm before it sounded. His eyelids closed. They opened, and he groped at the top of the bedside cupboard where the cigarette packet was lying. He left it there and raised himself up, studied the clock. A moment later he slid out between the covers and went through to the lavatory before getting on his clothes.
The house was in semi darkness. He tugged the cord to pull up the venetian blinds in the kitchen, leaving off the electric light. He ate cornflakes and milk, rinsing out the bowl and spoon and drying them, returning them into their places in the cupboard. Then he collected his jerkin and cigarettes from his own room. Back down the lobby he clicked open the outside door, closing it gently behind him.
The street and pavement were damp but the sky was clear and it was a mild morning. Along at the newsagent’s shop the man was sorting through his big bundles of Sunday newspapers, a cigarette burning in the corner of his mouth and his eyelids blinking to avoid the smoke. He nodded at Tammas and gave him his ordered Sunday Mail without a word.
At the bus stop two men in donkey jackets and denims stood talking together, behind them queued a woman and two children who were clutching thin religious books. A block further on he paused to strike a match, cupping the flame in both hands, the news
paper beneath his right oxter. When he had the cigarette going he flicked the match into the gutter then opened the newspaper at the back pages, he read while strolling. He came to where a plot of grass had been planted in a gapsite; an arc-shaped iron railing surrounded it, and in an inshot a bench had been fixed into a concrete slab. He sat down there for a while.
A bus passed, travelling slowly. Tammas looked after it, the newspaper now lying folded on his lap. From behind his ear he brought the half smoked cigarette and got it alight before rising and continuing on.
Where he was now walking the buildings consisted mainly of warehouses and small factories with occasional TO LET signs pasted on their windows. Very few vehicles were on the roads. He turned off and along, parallel to the river. From where he was it could be seen stretching only as far as Govan. Nearby stood an enormous crane with what looked to be a very large shed on one end.
The rain had started falling by the time he entered the entrance to the pedestrian tunnel. The floor was white with bird shit. Condensation seeped down the walls and roofing and there was a continuous gurgling noise coming from somewhere, also a roaring noise that increased the further downstairs he stepped, until it seemed to block out all other sound.
On the other side of the river he sheltered in the entrance until the rain lessened, then headed along the cobbled dock road. The area to the left was waste ground, where tenement buildings had been recently demolished; here and there foundation work for new buildings seemed to be in progress. To the right of the pavement he was on was a high wall which continued for about a mile. When he reached its other end he took his newspaper back out, glancing at it as he went.
He only had one cigarette left. He lighted it and crushed the packet and dropped it to the ground, but kicked at it just before it landed. Then he brought the box of matches out his jerkin pocket again. It was nearly full. Striking one he thrust it in beside the rest and watched as it all burst into flames, and he bent and placed it on the pavement. Several paces on he turned to look back; the small fire was still burning.
A man was staring at him from a bus stop on the other side of the road.
Half an hour later he was at Linthouse, entering the pedestrian tunnel there; a further forty or so minutes and he had arrived at Rab’s place in Scotstoun. His younger brother Alec opened the door, dressed in pyjamas and rubbing his eyes. Tammas, he said.
Is Rab up?
He’s no in.
No in?
Naw, he never came back last night. Alec yawned: I thought he was with you and Donnie and them.
Tammas nodded.
How, was he no?
Eh I’m no sure, I never went out last night.
Did you no?
Naw.
Alec yawned again. He’ll probably be back soon anyway. Come on in and wait if you want. Maw and da are still in bed. I’ll be making a bit of toast.
Eh . . . ach naw Alec I’ll no bother – just tell him I came.
Aye. Anything else?
Naw.
•••
Margaret was standing in the doorway, all set to leave for work; she was frowning.
What’s up? he said, resting on his elbows.
What’s up! I thought you were away long ago!
He nodded and lay back down, pulling the blankets to his chin. I slept in, he muttered.
You slept in! Tammas, for heaven sake, you cant afford to be taking days off your work.
He shut his eyelids.
She continued to stand there. The door creaked on its hinges then after a few more moments it closed behind her; she could be heard walking quickly down the lobby and out, banging the front door shut. Eventually he dozed. Later in the morning he was carrying a bulky plastic bag to the pawnbroker’s. A young woman came out of the back entrance pushing a small pram; he stood aside to let her pass to the front close. In the shop he entered one of the cubicles and brought the suit out the bag and onto the counter. A girl attended him; without examining the suit she asked: How much?
Seven.
The girl hesitated.
Tammas nodded. Ask him and see . . . He watched through the grille as she crossed the floor and handed the suit to the middle aged man at the table. He glanced at the suit and muttered something to her. When she returned she laid the suit on the counter before speaking. He says three fifty for it.
Three fifty?
Yes.
Mm. He opened the bag and brought out a pair of black shoes, slid them beneath the grille.
The girl shook her head.
But they’ve only been worn once.
He wont even look at them.
What – I mean, hh . . . He shrugged and indicated the soles: Hardly even scuffed.
They have to be brand new but, no worn at all.
No worn at all?
Yes, they’ve no to be worn at all.
Just ask him.
No, there’s no point, he’ll no . . . She closed her lips and shook her head.
Och that’s terrible I mean they’ve no even been worn, just the once.
She nodded.
He sighed, then he smiled briefly. After a few moments she pushed the shoes back under the grille to him and she asked: Do you still want to leave the suit?
Aye. He looked at her.
•••
It was beginning to rain heavily. Ralphie and Tammas were collecting rubbish from the long grass near the canal bank and disposing of it in the skip container. The older man stopped working first. That’s that, he said. The boiler room! He started trotting in that direction at once, holding his bunnet down on his head with one hand.
Tammas shouted after him: I’ll see you later.
Ralphie paused: Where you going?
Ah – just for a walk.
Aye well you better hide son, keep out the fucking road – know what I mean?
Aye dont worry. He turned and walked to one of the doors into the factory, keeping close in to the wall to avoid the rain. Inside was another door, lying ajar. There was a steady hum from the generator room. He pushed open the door more widely, and entered. It was a small room and there was a youth sitting on a pipe with a magazine open on his lap, leaning on his shoulder was one of the engineers. They glanced at him. The youth grimaced: Dont fucking do that to people!
Sorry.
Jesus sake, said the man, placing his hand on his chest. I nearly had a fucking heart attack!
Tammas nodded. After a moment he said, I was looking for eh auld Benny, you seen him?
They shook their heads. The man added, He’ll be in the boiler room.
Aw aye . . . Course . . . He nodded, then he made to leave.
The youth said: You playing football at dinner time?
Aye, you?
If the rain stops.
Aye. Tammas turned but he glanced back: Hey you got a smoke at all?
Naw.
I’ve got one, said the man. He took a packet of tipped from the top pocket of his boilersuit and flipped it across.
Great, ta – I’ve been gasping all morning! He withdrew a cigarette, flipped the packet back.
While the man was taking one for himself he gestured at the magazine and chuckled, Horny porny.
Aw. Hh! Tammas struck his match down the wall; he inhaled and exhaled.
Take a look, said the youth.
Tammas smiled. It’ll put me off my work!
Ach come on man it’s amazing stuff; manky as fuck, take a swatch!
After a moment Tammas stepped forwards, placing one hand against the wall to balance himself while bending slightly. The youth held it to the side a little for him to see. It was a colour photograph covering the two pages and showed three men sexually involved with one woman. Tammas blushed, he continued to stare at it.
The man laughed: Look at his face!
Tammas breathed out; he inhaled on the cigarette, shaking his head; he moved away. That’ll do me, he said.
He’s had enough! grinned the man.
No fucking won
der! Tammas shook his head.
The youth was grinning and turning a page. Come here and see this yin!
Naw no me man . . . Tammas shook his head again. I’ll see you later.
The youth laughed.
Outside the room he nipped the cigarette and wedged it behind his ear. He returned back out into the rear yard and stood close in to the wall with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. A man in a white coat appeared suddenly at a door farther down, and Tammas was walking along and back into the factory; a brush was lying on the floor just inside the doorway and glancing quickly sideways he collected it and continued walking in the direction of the hoist.
The top floor of the part of the factory where Tammas normally worked was a small storeroom, nowadays used only for the cutting-section. One guy was in charge. Ralphie and Tammas were up helping him shift old packing crates to make space for new stock. He had left them to enter up his written work for the afternoon, but eventually he opened the window of his office and called to Tammas: Make the tea!
Tammas looked at him then at Ralphie who shrugged, and nodded in the direction of the sink. Thanks, he said. I’m a teaboy now.
Ralphie shrugged again and looked away.
During the break the three of them sat in the office in silence. Ralphie rose and he walked to a stack of parcels, began to read their labels. Eights by twelve, he said, I didnt know we still used them?
The storeman nodded. We just keep a few in case.
Mmm . . . Ralphie had taken the pipe from his pocket and was opening his tobacco pouch. The storeman lighted a cigarette, returned the packet into the drawer in his desk. Did you hear? said Ralphie. Auld McCreadie, he’s retired.
The storeman inhaled deeply on his cigarette.
Couple of weeks back.
Hh.
Aye, said Ralphie. He tapped the tobacco down inside the pipebowl and got his lighter out, and flicked on its large flame, sucking on the stem while lighting the tobacco; soon it was burning and he put the lighter away and let out a big cloud of blue smoke; he returned the pipe to between his lips. He came to sit back down again.
Tammas stood up. Going to the toilet, he said, and he left the office. There was a toilet on this floor but he passed it by, heading to the back of the area where the fire-escape staircase was situated. He walked down slowly, to the landing between floors, and he gazed out the window, out over the canal to the tenement buildings beyond. After a time he lowered himself to sit on his heels, then he sat on the concrete floor, his back to the wall and legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles.
A Chancer Page 5
