Aye . . . He took out his cigarettes again, and offered it to her. She shook her head; a moment later she went back to the sofa. Tammas put the cigarette in his mouth, the packet back into his pocket. He brought out the matches and struck one, lighted the cigarette. He stared at the floor, aware of the blood going to his cheeks. His face was getting really red. He unloosened the knot in his tie and opened the top two buttons of the shirt. Then he glanced towards the others and bent forwards a little, leaning his forearms on his knees. There was only a wee drop of beer left in the glass and the bottle of vodka was ben the kitchen; he inhaled on the cigarette, staring at the carpet, at the floral pattern on it; different kinds of flowers with stems and leaves, different thicknesses of stalks but the green colour was the same throughout. He glanced up at the wall again. There did not seem to be any clocks in the room. He shook his head and stood up, and walked to the door and out into the lobby; he pulled the door shut. He stood for a moment. It was much cooler, almost cold. He walked along peering into the rooms there for the bathroom; he found it near the top end. It was large inside and there were magazines on a stool within arms reach of the lavatory seat. He took off his jacket and tugged back his shirt cuffs, and he washed his hands and arms and his face and neck. The towels were thick and quite rough on his skin. He stared at his face in the mirror, patted his hair down at his ears, then wet his hands again and smoothed his hair. He tightened his tie and buttoned the shirt up to the top. Vi was standing in the lobby when he left. Is that you going? she asked.
Aye.
She nodded. I’ll see you to the end of the street.
Nah, he said, dont bother.
No, I will.
Nah it’s okay Vi dont bother.
Yes . . . She was nodding as she walked past him, into one of the bedrooms. She came out with her coat over her arm. He entered the kitchen before her. A couple of minutes later and she came in. She had the coat on and she was wearing her shoes. That’s me ready, she said.
He looked at her. Are you coming with me?
What d’you think I’ve got my coat on for?
Aye, I’m no talking about the end of the street but.
Tammas, it’s past three o’clock in the morning.
Christ sake Vi.
She pulled back her sleeve to see her wristwatch. She glanced at him. How did you no get in touch with me?
He was looking at her.
I mean even writing a letter . . .
A letter?
Even a letter – yes, aye, that would’ve been better than nothing.
I’m sorry.
Tch. She shook her head, frowning.
After a moment he muttered, Nobody even spoke to me in there. He gestured sideways with his thumb. Made me feel as if . . . I dont know. What was it for? I mean how come?
How come?
Aye I mean, Christ, no even saying a word I mean Christ sake – Hogmanay and that and nobody even says a word to you. That’s really out of order. What was it for?
What d’you mean what was it for?
Tammas stared at her until each of them looked away; then he said, Are you coming with me?
No. I’ve just put the coat on cause I was cold.
Christ sake Vi.
Well you’re always asking these stupid bloody questions.
He looked at her.
So you are, stupid bloody questions.
Okay then aye, but all I’m asking is if you’re coming and I’m no talking about the end of the street I mean I’m talking about are you coming with me, if we’re going out away from here, away from this dump of a bloody place, that’s all I’m asking; it’s a straight question.
Dont lose your temper with me!
I’m no losing my temper!
O are you no!
Tammas sniffed. Then he added: Christ sake Vi. He took out his cigarettes and offered her one.
I’ve stopped. Did you no notice?
Naw, Christ – stopped smoking?
A fortnight ago. Sixteen days to be exact.
Christ sake!
Tch. I wish you’d stop saying that all the time.
He reached out and he took her left hand in his, and he stepped in close enough to kiss her; and they kissed each other on the mouth. Come on Vi, he said; come on we’ll go away.
She gazed at him and closed her eyelids and they kissed again for a longer period. He put his arm round her shoulders and cuddled her tightly. Christ, he said, hh. He shook his head. I’m sorry I didnt get in touch Vi.
It’s okay Tammas. I just wish you had though so I knew what was happening – I just didnt know.
He pulled her to him, her head over his shoulder, her body tightly to his. He got an erection and moved away from her. Neither spoke for several moments. Then he lifted his bottle of vodka and inserted it in his side jacket pocket. You ready? he said.
She nodded. Think we’ll get a taxi?
Och aye.
I could phone one from here?
Naw, I’d rather just get out . . . She was looking at him and he shrugged: Okay?
She nodded. Then she raised her hand, put it onto his forehead and she rested it there for a few seconds, and she frowned. Do you know that you’ve got a temperature?
A temperature?
I’m no kidding.
Hh. Must’ve been that room in there, I was beginning to get really sweating – like you’re going to faint or something.
She sighed, shook her head. You’re a poor soul . . .
He looked at her.
She laughed and strode to the door. You’re a wean! she said. Come on!
Are you no going to say cheerio?
She made no reply. He followed her in silence to the front door and once they were outside she closed it very gently, but still its noise was fairly audible. Tammas laughed and cried: Quick! And he took her hand as they ran down the path to the gate; and out onto the pavement, letting the gate swing back to clatter against its snib lock.
Where’re we going?
I dont know! Tammas was laughing. Somewhere but!
I want a dance!
You’ll get a dance!
I’m no kidding! she cried.
Neither am I!
They carried on running for some forty or so yards until they came to an abrupt halt, both were puffing and panting and Tammas had to hold his sides, gasping in an exaggerated manner.
We’re both crazy! laughed Vi.
He laughed, grabbed her arms and kissed her on the forehead, and they walked on with their arms round each other.
•••
Tammas squinted and moved his head on the pillow. Vi was saying: I’m going for Kirsty now Tammas.
He frowned, raising his head upwards, resting himself on his elbows.
It’s okay, she said, just stay in bed – I’m going to get Kirsty.
Vi had on her coat and she was all set to go out, now lifting her bag from the kitchen table.
When’ll you be back?
Soon! She smiled across at him, then came over.
Soon . . . he nodded, sitting up and putting his arm round her waist. She leaned to kiss him and he raised himself up further.
That’s enough, I’ve got to go.
So what time’ll you be back?
Soon I said – and you need a shave, desperately.
Hh! He rubbed his chin, grinned at her. Take a taxi.
A taxi!
Aye, I’m no kidding, both ways as well Vi.
Ha ha. Think I’m made of money! She had walked to the door and she swung her bag in a circular movement.
Naw! Honest! It’s alright Vi – I’ve got it . . .
She had opened the kitchen door and she called: I’ll no be long!
Then the outside door opened and shut.
Tammas continued to sit for a time, before lying down, his hands behind his head on the pillow. He stared at the ceiling. The ceiling was greyish. It could have done with a lick of paint. And too above the window and sink and oven, it was a kind of ye
llowish – plus the woodwork. A fresh white right across the whole lot. The walls themselves needed something. The one where the fire was had been done in a lightish brown and the others had a striped wallpaper while in the recess where the bed was the walls were painted in a blue colour to make it look like a different room. But the blue did not make it look different at all. In fact it did not look very good, it looked wrong – better to have done the whole thing in a fresh white and that would make it nice and airy looking. No venetian blind either. That just stopped the light coming in the window. The whole place could have done with a different arrangement. There was no dressing table. All of Vi’s stuff seemed to be standing along the big old fashioned mantelpiece or jammed together on top of the tallboy. A mirror was there, a small adjustable one and next to it a framed photograph of the wee girl when she was a baby. No other photographs at all. None. The whole room including the ceiling done in a fresh white paint and all the woodwork done in a fresh white gloss; that would be fine, it would make a big difference to the place.
He got out of bed. A carton of milk was over near to the window and he drank a couple of mouthfuls straight from it. His cigarettes and matches were on top of the electric fire, and so were his socks, which Vi had washed for him. He switched on the fire and turned, glancing at the jumper on the back of the settee. It had a sweetish smell about it and it was a bit tight. His shirt had been sweaty and Vi had given the jumper to him although he had said no, he would have preferred not to put it on; but eventually he had to put it on. There seemed to be no other men’s clothes in the place. And there was no shaving stuff. He rubbed his chin again and he lifted his cigarettes, lighted one and returned to bed, bringing the ashtray with him. He propped the two pillows together so that he could sit up against them, drawing the blankets and sheets upwards.
The television was on but he was watching Vi feed the wee girl her evening meal. The two of them were laughing. It was a game: Vi trying to put the spoonful of food into her mouth while the girl would snatch away her head, causing the food to bang against her cheeks or the sides of her lips. Vi was holding the spoon in her right hand and her left grasped Kirsty by the back of her head and neck and probably she could have forced her into keeping her mouth in the correct position. When she noticed him watching she said: Spoiled daft so she is.
Tammas smiled.
Vi frowned briefly. It’s because it’s just the two of us. I mean just because it’s only the two of us. Tch! She shook her head. What I mean is that if I started to get angry with her I’d just end up feeling stupid. Is that right you? she said to Kirsty. And then held the girl’s head a bit more firmly so that the spoonful of food went into her mouth.
I know what you mean.
Vi nodded. She glanced at him: How do you find it with your sister? do you find yous do a lot of arguing the gether or d’yous manage to avoid it?
He shrugged.
She probably stops herself.
He shrugged again.
No think so?
Maybe.
Probably she does! Vi grinned: Because you’re her wee brother and she’s got to look after you!
Tammas looked at her.
I’m only kidding, said Vi. She had dipped the spoon back into the bowl of food and she fed it to Kirsty, and went on: Does she do all your laundry?
My laundry. Aye . . . He reached for his cigarettes and he sniffed before withdrawing one from the packet and then striking a match on the box. She does it when she’s doing her own, hers and her husband’s.
It’s still good of her.
He exhaled smoke and nodded, looking at the television. The next time he raised the cigarette to his mouth he yawned.
He shook his head, gazing in the direction of the screen. Tired, he said.
When Vi did not respond he glanced over. She was involved in cleaning the wee girl’s mouth, dabbing at the corners of it with a cloth.
Vi.
Mm . . . she turned her head to look at him, a very slight frown on her face.
After a moment he said, Would it be okay if I stayed the night as well?
The night?
Aye, would it be okay?
She nodded.
I’ll go first thing in the morning.
She smiled. It’s okay Tammas.
Naw I mean . . . he nodded, and shrugged.
•••
It was just after midday and he was eating a mince pie and beans in a pub down the street from the snooker hall; a pint of heavy at his elbow and he had the Sporting Life spread on the table.
The bar began filling up and when two men in dungarees sat by him he lifted the newspaper so they could put down their pints. He folded it and stuck it into his side pocket. Downstairs at the snooker hall the full up notice was hanging on the inside of the swing doors and when he pushed his way inside the elderly attendant grunted, Can you no fucking read?
I’m just looking for my brother – I’ve got a message for him.
You better be fucking snappy then.
Tammas continued on in between the row of men and youths whose names were down on the waiting list for a game. At one of the top tables a three-red tournament was in progress. He walked behind it, into a corner, and he sat on the ledge there, yawning as he brought out the Life and squinted at it in the light filtering from the strip beneath the shade of the nearest tables. He turned the page to the racing card for the day’s only meeting not postponed because of waterlogging. He had his nap picked out but also fancied a couple of others. He trapped the paper between his elbow and his right knee while lighting a cigarette.
Hey john . . . A guy had approached him: Fancy a game? I’ve got a table booked; I think I’m next on.
Naw man sorry I’ve eh – I’m just passing the time.
It’s no for money or anything, just a game.
Nah – actually I’m going up the betting shop in a minute.
The guy nodded and moved off to somebody farther along the ledge. About quarter of an hour later Tammas was getting down off the ledge and heading for the exit. The elderly man was still attending the door but he ignored him as he pushed out.
He had less than £40 in his trouser pocket. The horse he fancied was paper favourite and it appeared as favourite when the actual betting started. He was going to do it for £5 but when he wrote out the line he had written it for £20; and when he passed it beneath the grille he paid the additional £2 tax in advance.
On the off they were laying 11/4 against the favourite. It was a race for novice chasers over a trip of two miles. The favourite jumped off in the lead and was still showing ahead when the others closed to challenge between the last two fences. But over the last and on the run in the horse steadily drew further and further away, eventually winning by some dozen or so lengths. There was no objection lodged by the runners-up and there was no inquiry by the stewards; and then the jockeys had weighed in and Tammas was at the pay-out window to receive the £75.
He studied the other newspapers tacked on the wall for the coming race. The opening show had the favourite in at even money and it was quickly taken down to 4/6; scribbling out his line he rushed across to the counter and asked for the board price to £90.
The full up sign no longer hung inside the swing doors. He pushed them open and entered. At the top table the tournament had ended but he recognised two good players at another table and he walked to join the small group of guys watching. It happened that if these two went into one of the tournaments a couple of other players would immediately withdraw. Tammas knew their first names, as did most of those watching and some bantering took place. The pair never seemed in earnest when against each other, kept looking to see who else was around. After a few minutes he went to the lavatory for a piss. He ran the tap at the sink then drank some water. He checked the cash in his trouser pocket; less than two pounds.
Upstairs in the bookie’s a group of folk had gathered at the results’ sheet. He peered over a man’s shoulder and saw that the favourite had won. He nod
ded and smiled very slightly, took his cigarettes out and struck a match and got it lighted, while walking to the small queue at the pay-out window. The man in front turned and said, You got a fag jimmy?
Aye.
When Tammas had given him it and the matches the man nodded as he inhaled the first puff of smoke, passing him the matches back. Good favourite, he said.
Aye. Tammas opened the Life, gazed at the declared runners on the next race. The horse he fancied was listed at 6/1 in the forecast betting. On the ledge of the pay-out window lay a pile of betting slips. He reached to take one and he wrote out the name of the horse and then he made the bet out to £135. The female cashier had begun paying the winners and when she gave him his £135 in exchange for the receipt he went immediately to one of the pay-in windows and handed it and his betting line straight across. It was another woman cashier and she peered at the line and at the stack of notes and replied, Hang on a minute son. And she got down off her stool and carried it through to where the settler worked behind a partition. The settler came out and looked at Tammas for a moment. Then the woman returned; she checked the stack of notes and issued him with the receipt, which he checked, before folding it away into his trouser pocket.
6 5’s 30 and 3’s 18; 18 and 3 21; 6 1’s 6 and 2’s 8; 810, eight hundred and ten quid; plus the stake, equals 945. £945 less tax.
One more point and the return amounted to one thousand and eighty, one thousand and eighty quid. A grand. All it required was one more point. 7/1.7 to 1 to the 135. £1080, less tax. Even better with the 15/2, that extra half point making sure it was more than the grand even after tax. One thousand pounds.
He checked the time through shop windows while he walked. He was walking at a steady pace. He passed other betting shops. He kept walking until he arrived at where he lived but he continued past the shop old Phil worked in, to a shop he only went into now and again. He glanced up at the board, the boardman was chalking in figures on the next race. His nap had finished third at 4/1. 4 to 1. His nap had finished third at four to one. Third at four to 1. Even if it had won he would not have reached the grand – nowhere near it, five hundred and thirty fives, it did not matter. £700 though. That would have been fine. Seven hundred quid. Six hundred. 675. Less tax, six hundred and seventy five ten pences.
A Chancer Page 21
