A Chancer

by Kelman, James

  Och!

  Deefy shook his head. As they approached the city centre he leaned forwards to ask the driver the time.

  You going up the club? asked Tammas.

  Naw son I dont think I’ll bother. There’ll be nothing doing there anyway.

  The Royal?

  The Royal? Are you?

  Tammas indicated the clothes he had on. I’d have to go home and get changed first.

  Ah, I wouldnt bother . . . Deffy sniffed and folded his arms. A moment later he leaned forwards again. Heh driver, he said, go up St Vincent Street will you.

  On the brow of the hill he told the man to pull into the kerb, and added, Two minutes I’ll be.

  When he got out he did not say anything to Tammas, nor did he look in his direction. He walked off across the street, tugging at the brim of his hat, and on up one of the side streets towards Blythswood Square. He reappeared holding a woman by the elbow. He opened the door of the taxi for her. Tammas moved to make room, noticing the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. The woman sat down next to him. Deefy pulled open the folding seat and he sat there staring out the window.

  They arrived outside Tammas’s close first and he got out, taking the wad from his pocket, preparing to pay something but Deefy waved him away. Once the taxi had moved off again he could see Deefy shifting from the folding seat into the back seat to sit beside the woman. He continued looking after the taxi until it was out of sight, then he crossed the street and walked along to Simpson’s.

  •••

  Margaret had called him ten minutes ago. He was lying on his side in bed, with the blankets to his chin. When the sound of cutlery and crockery had become less audible he threw back the blankets and got out; he was wearing his ordinary clothes. At the window he pulled open the curtains, he yawned and shivered, went into the bathroom to urinate and wash himself before going ben the kitchen. Margaret and Robert were still eating at the table.

  His food was being kept warm beneath the grill. He sat down at the table where his place had been set and began to mash the potatoes into the mince and gravy. Robert was now about finished eating, wiping his plate clean with a slice of margarined bread: he left the kitchen without speaking. Then Margaret had finished, as she rose to carry her plate to the sink she glanced at Tammas. Since sitting down he had barely touched his food. And he said, I’m no that hungry Margaret.

  She nodded. She began to stack the dirty pots and crockery on the draining board. Tammas turned and said, I’ll wash.

  It’s alright.

  Naw. He smiled: I’m washing.

  She shrugged. She dried her hands on the small towel.

  Did you see Grannie then?

  Yes.

  How was she?

  Alright, the usual . . . Margaret lifted the kettle as it began boiling and she poured the water into the teapot.

  Did you talk to any of the women?

  No. Margaret lifted the towel and dried her hands once again. She brought teacups out of the cupboard and laid them on the table.

  I’ll bring it ben, said Tammas.

  Mm . . .

  When she had closed the door behind her Tammas scraped the rest of his meal into the bin, dropped the plate into the washing bowl in the sink. He washed then dried all the dishes, pots and crockery, took the two cups of tea into the living room. He carried his own through to his bedroom. He put it on the cupboard beside his bed then propped the pillow and rearranged the quilt, put some books next to the teacup. He read for a time, later he dozed and had a fit of shivering when he awakened.

  Robert and Margaret were watching television when he entered. Anybody fancy a coffee? he asked.

  After a moment Margaret replied, We’ve just had tea.

  Fine. He made himself one and returned to the front room, sitting down on the settee. There was a news programme showing. He watched it for a few minutes. Then he said, O by the way, that guy McCann I told you about, him that drinks in Simpson’s, he was saying the Peterhead job’s going to be starting quite soon. A couple of months at the most.

  O. Margaret nodded.

  He thinks there’ll be no problem, getting a start and that. He’s an electrician and he says he’ll get me labouring to him. Big wages. Bonus it is they’re on.

  That’s nice, said Robert.

  Tammas paused. He looked at the floor to where his cigarette packet and matches were lying. Aye, he said, eh, the . . . He rubbed his eyelids before continuing. A place near the site, where you sleep and that.

  A hostel.

  Naw, it’s no a hostel I dont think I think it’s a eh . . .

  A hotel? Five star probably . . . Robert had turned his head to look at Tammas while speaking to him.

  Tammas sniffed. He collected his cigarettes and matches, lifted the coffee from the arm of the settee. He walked to the door. Margaret was staring at the television screen while Robert had opened the pages of a paperback. Just as he clicked open the door Margaret shifted round on the settee. She said: I thought Billy’s dad was going to speak for you in the copper place, the factory?

  Aye, he’s getting me the application form.

  Well then . . .

  Tammas shrugged.

  D’you no want a job there?

  Eh, no really.

  O.

  Robert’s head was bent over the book he was reading.

  I just think I’d prefer something in the open air.

  Margaret nodded. She shifted back round on the settee again, facing the television screen. After a few moments Tammas opened the door and stepped out into the lobby.

  During the night he kept wakening, his body sweating; the bed seemed to be confining him far too much. It was far too narrow a bed and there always seemed to be too many quilts and blankets stifling him. His forehead felt damp and cool. He was shivering again. There was a dream he had been having. More of a nightmare maybe. He turned onto his side, tugging the bedclothes to his chin, and then over his head; but eventually he got up and searched about in the cupboard drawers, till he found his pyjamas. Throughout the night he kept dozing, and in the morning he wrote a short note to Vi which he posted in the pillarbox along at the street corner. He returned upstairs and went back to bed.

  •••

  He was off the platform and running before the bus had stopped and he was still running when he arrived inside her close; he walked up the stairs two and three at a time and he chapped her door then flapped the letterbox. And when he heard the kitchen door open he bent to shout through the gap: It’s me.

  Tammas! She laughed, unlocking the main door.

  Inside the lobby he clasped his arms round her; her head on his shoulder. Is it okay to come in? he said.

  She slapped his chest and he picked her up off the floor, she was laughing, carrying her into the kitchen. Put me down ya idiot! Then she whispered, Tammas, you’ll frighten her.

  He let her down, kissed her on the mouth. He winked across to Kirsty who was sitting on the floor near the fire surround.

  Are you hungry? There’s still some mince in the pot.

  Tammas grinned.

  D’you want some?

  Naw, I’m full up.

  You’re the man that’s always starving! Come on!

  Honest Vi.

  Honest Vi! She smiled, shook her head at him.

  I’d take a coffee right enough.

  O would you!

  Tammas was smiling at her. It’s really great to see you Vi. All the way here I was thinking she’ll no be here she’ll no be here! And then – Christ!

  Sit down.

  He laughed, stepped round to sit on the edge of the settee, glancing back at her, then at Kirsty, winking at her again.

  Take off your jacket . . . As she spoke Vi had crossed to the sink and she filled the kettle, prepared two cups of coffee.

  It’s a jerkin, he said while unzipping it; he took the cigarettes and matches from the pocket.

  How’s your cold now?

  Okay. Actually it was the flu I
think.

  O, pardon me!

  He grinned. Kirsty was watching him. She rose from the floor, facing down the way and pushing herself up with both hands. She toddled to the cot and stood there, holding onto the bars. When she glanced at him he winked again. Hullo Kirsty! She turned away. And he opened his cigarettes. He said to Vi: You still no smoking?

  I’m still no smoking.

  That’s good.

  Bloody awful! Vi was leaning with the small of her back against the sink, her arms folded; she was smiling. She turned and lifted the kettle, set it back down again.

  Tammas inhaled on the cigarette, flicked the flame out of the match, dropping it onto the ashtray. He said: It’s really great to see you.

  She smiled. You’ve said that already.

  Naw but . . .

  Hey! Tammas! Vi clapped her hands and came forwards, bent to lean her elbows on the top frame of the settee, grinning at him, her face less than 12 inches from his: he moved to kiss her. Will you take me to the pictures?

  What?

  Eh? D’you no fancy it? She kissed the tip of his nose.

  The pictures?

  Please, eh? Come on . . . She was gazing right into his eyes, very close to him, now smiling. Eh?

  The pictures?

  She laughed and stood up. The bloody pictures! And she was returning to the draining board and the two cups, reaching for the bottle of milk. I’ve no been for ages. Honest Tammas, I cant remember the last time. I’ve even stopped reading the entertainments’ page in the papers. I used to ask Milly if she would go but she was never interested. Vi paused to look across. D’you no fancy it?

  What about Kirsty?

  Aw Cathy’ll babysit, no bother. I mean it’s no as if we’ll be late back either – I’ll go and tell her eh?

  He shrugged slightly. Vi was already walking to the kitchen door. He smiled at Kirsty who had been watching him but she cried out and rushed to the door after Vi.

  Soon Cathy’s door was opening and shutting. Tammas got up, he walked to get one of the coffees. He peered out the window, down into the backcourt. When he heard Cathy’s door open he returned to the settee immediately.

  Vi had Kirsty in her arms and she put her onto the floor, saying: Get your dolls now Kirsty . . . And she added: Tammas, you’ve no even looked at the paper.

  The paper?

  The paper! Vi marched to beside the television where a copy of the Evening Times was lying, and she gave it to him: You look while I’m getting her ready.

  He nodded.

  God you’re no very enthusiastic.

  Enthusiastic?

  Aye I mean . . . tch. She shook her head, opening it at the entertainments’ page, handing it over to him. She went to the cupboard and tugged out a drawer, collected a packet of paper nappies. Then she smiled and muttered, You dont really want to go do you!

  What?

  D’you just no fancy it?

  The pictures?

  Vi glanced at Kirsty who was kneeling at the foot of the bed where a toy pram lay. She turned back to Tammas. We dont have to go.

  After a moment he said, It’s just I’m skint Vi.

  Aw God.

  I only had the busfare and the ten fags. Had to tap the sister for it.

  Tch, Tammas. Vi marched to him and put her arms round him and they kissed. She clung into him. He moved a little away from her, but she pulled back into him; they were still kissing. We’ll be early home, she whispered.

  •••

  It was no longer pitchblack when he wakened. Vi’s arm lay over his shoulder, and he lifted it, laid it on the pillow. He manoeuvered himself to the edge of the bed, sliding out from the blankets carefully. The alarm clock was on the mantelpiece. Vi kept it there so she would always have to get out of bed to switch off the alarm. Ten minutes to 6 am. Another hour and she would be rising for work.

  He went to the lavatory. On his return he halted by the cot. Kirsty was lying on her back with the bedclothes near her waist. Tammas stared at her for several moments, and then he raised her vest and peered down at the scratches on her belly. They were more like scars. There were four of them and they were as though parallel, just beneath her navel. He lifted the vest down to cover them. Her arms were bent at the elbows, the forearms lying vertically. When he raised the bedclothes past her shoulders she made a sighing noise and she turned onto her side, looking towards the wall.

  Back in bed he lay for quite a while with his hands behind his head on the pillow. Vi’s arm came onto his chest. Eventually he began stroking it. He turned a little so that he could touch her breasts and he stroked them around the nipples until she was awake, and he slipped his arm beneath her shoulders: Fancy taking the day off?

  She chuckled. What time’s it?

  Only about 6.

  6?

  Aye. He turned onto his side, facing into her, the warmth of her, pulling her in to him.

  •••

  The photographer motioned them in closer together then waved them to the side a bit and back a step. Taking the camera away from his face he straightened up, shaking his head. Naw, he said, it’s no good; yous’ll have to get closer than that.

  There was a burst of laughter from the little crowd gathered some twenty yards off by the church wall. Tammas put his arm round the best maid’s shoulders and somebody shouted: No flies on him anyway!

  And then came a cheer when Rab drew Rena closer into him, his arm round her waist as she clutched the small bouquet. The photographer was waving his hand about and saying, Fine, that’s fine; now hold it there, fine. And another – fine now fine, and just . . . fine, and another. Fine.

  Rab edged sideways as if set to say something to Tammas but the man stopped him by raising his hand and signalling . . . Just you and the lassie now son – just you and the missus – a nice yin. One for the grandweans!

  Another roar then more laughter from the spectators. Rab blushed and he glared at the man. Shoosh, whispered Rena.

  I never said anything . . . He was shaking his head, he glanced at Tammas.

  Tammas shrugged. He and Julie retreated to the edge of the crowd, standing next to the two wee girls who had been bridesmaids.

  The reception was being held in the home of Rena’s parents. It was a first storey flat in a red sandstone tenement they lived in, less than two miles from where Rab’s own parents stayed. Once the guests had assembled an uncle of Rena asked for quiet. And he nodded to Tammas.

  Well everybody . . . Tammas cleared his throat.

  Another man called: A bit of order now for the best man.

  Tammas waited until the talking stopped. Well . . . He cleared his throat again. I’d like to toast the bride. She’s the best looking bride I’ve ever seen. He turned to her and said, Honest Rena, I really mean that. All the best to the two of yous.

  He raised the tumbler of sherry he had been given aloft. There was silence, the faces in the room all gazing at him. It was crowded. The door open widely and people standing visible out in the lobby. Here’s to Rena! he cried, and he swallowed the sherry in a gulp.

  Somebody called: To Rena!

  Then others were saying her name and the toasts being made. Rena’s mother was looking at him. He stepped to the side, leaning to whisper to Rab, I’m needing a slash man be back in a minute.

  He kept his head bowed while making his way through the folk in the room. Betty was by the doorway, standing just to the side of an old lady who stared at him. Hullo Betty, he said.

  O Tammas . . .

  Nice wedding.

  It was really beautiful.

  Aye. He nodded, took out his cigarettes. The old lady was still staring at him. He smiled at her and turned slightly, scratching at his ear.

  You didnt say very much for the speech.

  I know. Hh. Have you seen Billy at all?

  Billy. I’m no really sure if I know him Tammas.

  O aye. Tammas returned the cigarettes to his pocket; he fingered the lapels of the dress jacket. Have to change ou
t of this stuff. I better eh . . . this blooming bowtie!

  I think it looks nice.

  The bowtie? Tammas frowned at her. It feels like a windmill or something. And the trousers they gave me; could hardly get my legs into them they were that tight!

  But it’ll be nice for the photographs.

  Aye, I suppose so. Listen Betty I’ll see you later on and then – maybe have a dance if it’s okay. He frowned. I’m supposed to look after the best maid.

  Betty nodded. Wee Julie, she looks awful thin in the dress. It’s nice right enough but she was really shivering for the photographs.

  Aye . . . Tammas took out his cigarette again. After a moment he touched her on the side of the arm and said, I’ll see you later Betty.

  A large walk-in press was being used as a cloakroom. There was no snib on the door and he had to grip the handle while changing trousers. When he had his own suit on and the dress one on the hanger, he pushed open the door and peered out. A group of kids was clustered by the bathroom door; also a young woman with a baby in her arms. She glanced at him as he passed along, and he nodded to her, before opening the front door and stepping out.

  There was a pub about two hundred yards down the street and he sat in the bar for more than forty minutes, sipping at a pint of heavy, watching television.

  The guests were queuing for food when he arrived back, a line of them filing along the lobby and in through the kitchen doorway, passing the tables where all the bowls and plates of things were heaped. Folk were either serving themselves or being given selections by two middle aged women. John was near the head of the queue and he waved to Tammas. Tammas returned the wave but continued along the lobby. In the front room different groups had formed, people chatting together while eating or drinking. Over near the bow windows Rab and Rena had been surrounded, mainly by younger folk, including both Betty and Julie. Behind them Tammas could see Billy listening to something Mrs McCorquodale was saying.

  And Uncle Gus was gesticulating at him from the side of the room and calling, Hey . . . psst – Tammas.

  He was standing next to a display cabinet. A bottle of sherry and a half bottle of whisky plus a few empty tumblers were on top of it, also a big plate in use as an ashtray. Uncle Gus was pointing at the sherry: Hope you can drink this cause the whisky’s done and I dont see much else.