A Chancer

by Kelman, James

  He nodded.

  She gave him her other hand and he took it, and she withdrew the first. And eventually she asked, Well?

  Aye, hh. He opened his hand and she withdrew hers, placing it on the edge of the settee, balancing herself; then she rested back the way, sitting on her heels. He reached forwards to her and said, Give us your hand again . . . just till I see . . .

  When he took her hand this time he cupped both of his round it. She stared at it. He looked at her but she continued to stare at her hand inside his two. Then he opened them and she withdrew it again, and she sat back against the armchair once more. He picked his cigarettes up from the coffee table, lighted one.

  Vi’s started again. Smoking I mean.

  Has she?

  Cathy nodded, shifting her position a little, stretching to hold her hands to the fire. Even more now than she used to . . . or so she says.

  Hh.

  Cathy was gazing into the electric fire, and without taking her gaze from it she asked, Can I make you a sandwich?

  He cleared his throat. Naw it’s okay.

  Sure?

  He nodded. He glanced at his wristwatch: Actually I better be going.

  Are you sure you dont want something?

  Honest, I had quite a big dinner – a pub lunch; soup and all that.

  It wouldnt be any trouble.

  Naw, thanks but. He drank a mouthful of coffee and then collected the cigarettes and matches and got to his feet.

  Cathy also stood up. D’you want me to give her a message?

  Naw eh . . .

  Just tell her you were here like?

  Aye, that’ll be fine, ta.

  It’s no bother . . .

  Out in the lobby he paused as she opened the front door and stood aside for him. And remember, she said, if you come up and she’s no in again just knock the door and you can always come in and wait.

  Thanks.

  It’s no bother. I’m nearly always in.

  Thanks . . . He nodded. Cheerio then.

  Cheerio. Cathy shut the door immediately.

  •••

  The wad amounted to £40 of which £10 was to play about with forecasts as well as pay expenses; the other thirty was for the nap. He arrived in plenty of time for the first race. The nap would not be running until the third. While the dogs were being paraded he wandered around, glancing at the Adviser and the tips in the Evening Times. Most of the runners in the first were returning after lengthy absences and their fitness had to be taken on trust. He laid a small bet on the tote for a forecast, choosing the two dogs he expected to be the biggest outsiders. He placed a similar sort of bet on the second race. A couple of minutes before the off on the third he finished the export he had been drinking and strolled out of the bar and along to the betting enclosure. The bookies were making his nap a 4 to 1 chance and he moved up immediately, gripping the wad as he went, and bringing it out and passing it up to the bookie: Four thirties the bottom, he said quietly. And the bookie had taken it without returning him a betting-ticket and repeated the bet to his scribbler while dropping the notes into the big money bag, and he said, Down to Tam. He turned and glanced along the row, rubbed out the chalked 4/1, leaving the space blank. But shortly before heading up the Stand Tammas saw the guy chalking the 4/1 back in again.

  He read the Adviser while climbing the steps. He had napped the dog the previous night and reading today’s newspapers had only strengthened his conviction. It was running from trap 5 and going from its best handicap in weeks; but even more importantly, there was a 3 yard gap between it and the 4 dog. 4 dog was much the faster out of the boxes and would be up with 5 at the 1st bend, but getting this 3 yard start meant 5 would have started racing by that time, and if it managed to keep 4 off round the 1st bend then it had a great chance of maintaining its head in front till the winning post. Anyway, dog 4 was not the real danger. The real danger was the 2 dog. If there was any trouble in running at all then this one’s chance was outstanding. But they were making dog 4 the favourite, in the belief it would lead the 1st bend.

  The wee man with the spectacles was standing below him, puffing on a roll-up, listening to a guy beside him while studying the Adviser. Tammas reached to tap him on the shoulder: What’s the dangers Shuggie?

  The bottom.

  I’ve backed it, said Tammas.

  Have you Tam aye it’s the worry, the worry.

  D’you no fancy 2?

  Aye – strong! Fucking flying machine Tam, if it gets the luck – see it on Tuesday night! Fuck sake! it walks out the boxes and it’s beat a short head! Fucking hell! I couldnt believe my eyes! No kidding ye!

  Have you bet it yourself?

  Nah I’m on the 4 Tam, if it beats 5 round the 1st it’s a fucking stonewall.

  Tammas nodded, stepping back up, taking the Adviser back out of his pocket for another look. But the lights had dimmed and the hooter was sounding and Tammas was rapidly extracting a cigarette from the packet and getting it alight and exhaling as the traps opened and 5 had missed the break. Somebody nearby cried: 5’s fucked!

  But Tammas roared: You’re still a good thing 5! On ye goooooo . . . Eeeassayyyy, eeeaaasssayyyy the 5 – ah bastard! look at 2, look at 2, 2’s a fucking . . . ah! bastard! bastard . . . Tammas nodded.

  Below him Shuggie was shaking his head and turning to exclaim: I thought you were a fucking certainty there Tam! The way 5 shook off the 4 coming round the 1st – I mean that 4! Fucking favourite! He’s shot the boxes and still got beat! Hh! Fucking hell! I’m sick backing the bastard – owes me a fucking fortune so it does!

  Aye.

  And that 2 dog too d’you see the way it finished? Eh? Fuck! No kidding ye Tam that’s a fucking flying machine so it is.

  Tammas nodded. After a moment he stuck the Adviser into the inside pocket of his jacket and started walking down the steps.

  As he crossed out through the parking area he chipped away his cigarette, checked the change he had in his trouser pocket, before heading along and up towards Bridgeton Cross.

  •••

  An old woman walked past him, round the corner and along to the grocer’s shop, and when she came back she stared at him. This was the second time she had been out to the shop since he had been standing there, almost half an hour. It was after 6 p.m. and Vi was late. When a bus stopped to let off passengers at the stop nearby he was unable to see who was there until after it had moved away. And when Vi appeared at last he hurried out of view, dashing through the next close and across the backcourt and into the close next to her own. He keeked out, seeing her turning the corner, carrying the big cardboard box, the top of a cornflakes packet showing. He waited until she was passing the close and he stepped out immediately behind her, going on her outside. Hullo, he said.

  Tammas! She stopped walking. What you doing here?

  Eh . . . he sniffed and put his hand to her elbow. Can I carry your messages?

  No, it’s alright, I can manage. She frowned: What you doing here?

  Nothing. I was wanting to see you again.

  You must be winning then. Or losing . . . I can never work it out . . . Vi started walking away and he walked after her.

  You sure I cant help with the box?

  I can manage.

  It looks heavy.

  That’s because it is heavy. She stopped just inside her close and she frowned again. I’m just going up the stair Tammas I’m in a bit of a rush.

  I was wanting to see you.

  What about?

  Can I no come up, and tell you inside?

  No.

  Aw, hh. He nodded.

  I’m in a rush. I’ve got to get Kirsty fed and then take her over to my mother’s.

  Mm.

  Vi had been standing side on to him; now she turned a little to look straight at him. You were up yesterday. Did you no know I would be at my work?

  Ah I just took a notion, just in the off chance . . . He sniffed, gestured at the box of messages: Let us hold it for you a min
ute Vi.

  I’m going up the stair.

  Aye but I want to see you.

  What about?

  A couple of things. I’ll no keep you back.

  You’ll no keep me anything Tammas I just dont have the time, I’ve got to get ready and I’ve got to get Kirsty fed and everything. Honest I really dont have the time.

  He smiled. What’re you going out with somebody?

  Yes.

  Aw. He looked at her.

  I’m going out with Stan. And I dont know why I’m even bothering to tell you. Look, I’ve got to go up and get ready.

  I thought you didnt like going out with him?

  I’m no even going to answer that.

  Cathy says he fancies you.

  Well Cathy’s got no right saying that cause she doesnt bloody know!

  He continued to gaze at her for a moment, then took out his cigarettes, offered her one which she declined, and lighted one for himself. You still off the smoking? he asked.

  Is it anything special you want to see me about?

  I’m going up to Peterhead.

  What?

  Peterhead, I’m going up to Peterhead, to work.

  O.

  He nodded, gazing at her. Eventually she changed her stance, adjusting the cardboard box, and he moved to her. Eh Vi let us hold it a minute . . .

  What’re you going to work at?

  It’s a guy I know that’s fixing me up, he’s a spark – an electrician – he’s going to get me in labouring to him. He glanced along the close in the direction of the staircase; a door had opened and banged shut somewhere above. Eh Vi can I tell you up in the house?

  She made no answer. A person was coming down the stairs, a woman; she came walking through, head bowed, muttering, Hullo Violet.

  Hullo.

  When the woman had gone Tammas pointed at the cardboard box but Vi shook her head, leant her shoulder against the wall, readjusting the weight distribution. And she said, When you coming back?

  I dont know. No that long I dont think – it depends.

  She nodded; and sighed.

  If it’s rubbish I’ll no stay.

  Is it the North Sea?

  Naw, it’s just a building site – a big yin right enough. I’m no sure what it’s for.

  Maybe it’s another prison.

  Hh.

  And do you want to go?

  He shrugged.

  Is the money good?

  Supposed to be, aye. He sniffed. D’you have to meet Stan?

  He’s expecting me.

  Could you no phone him or something?

  No, no really.

  Aw . . . he moved a step to her, put his hand up to her face, curved onto her cheek; when she looked at him he bent to kiss her on the lips. Soon she broke from him.

  O Tammas. She closed her eyelids, shaking her head slightly.

  He glanced away, inhaled on the cigarette.

  When is it you’re leaving?

  I’m no sure. Soon.

  How soon?

  I dont know – just depends. The guy . . . He glanced at her: What time’ll you be back at? The night I mean.

  Vi did not respond for a while, then she sighed and looked out the close

  I could come back later.

  No.

  Hh; Vi . . . He shook his head and he moved to her again, putting his right arm round her shoulder, standing side on to her, and then leaning to put his cheek to hers. She made no movement, still looking in the direction of the street. You smell great . . . he whispered.

  Vi began to say something but did not.

  Have you got to go out with him?

  She nodded.

  Could you no phone him?

  No.

  You sure?

  Honest Tammas.

  Okay. He raised the cigarette to his mouth and dragged deeply, and as he exhaled he moved away from her. She shifted the weight of her body onto the other foot, adjusting the cardboard box in her arms. And she said, I better go up.

  What about the morrow night then?

  Okay.

  Okay?

  Aye.

  Hh. He grinned. The morrow night?

  Okay, She nodded, smiling.

  The morrow night? It’s a Saturday remember!

  Aye, okay.

  Hh. He grinned, shaking his head.

  What time?

  What time? Eh . . .

  I’ll be home about sevenish.

  Sevenish?

  Aye, we’re always later on Saturdays. You could just come up then, say about half past.

  Aye Christ.

  She smiled as she walked past him and he watched her to the foot of the stairs where she half turned to smile again.

  •••

  He went into the cafe on the way home, buying a sausage supper to take up the stair with him. The lobby was in darkness, no lights showing beneath any of the doors. He switched on the radio and made a pot of tea, ate the sausages and chips off the greaseproof paper wrapping, the Evening Times spread out on the table at the sports’ pages. Some dirty crockery and things were on the draining board and he stacked them in the washing-up bowl and boiled water. He was at the sink when the front door opened. It was Margaret and Robert; they went straight along to their bedroom then one of them came out and across to the bathroom. A few minutes later Robert appeared in the doorway, calling: Hullo.

  Hullo . . . Tammas glanced round at him, his hands still in the bowl of sudsy water. And when his brother-in-law gave an exaggerated sniff he said, I’ve just finished my tea – chips I had; a sausage supper.

  Mm, smell it a mile away. I’ll just see if eh . . . Robert nodded, backing out and shutting over the door.

  Tammas frowned; he stared at the door, puffing on the cigarette, using two fingers carefully on the tip while withdrawing it from his mouth. He carried on washing the dishes with the cigarette wedged in at the corner of his mouth, screwing his eyebrows upward to avoid the drifting smoke.

  The two of them entered together, Robert sitting down at the table and Margaret coming to the sink area and lifting a kettle. Tammas stepped to the side to allow her in to the tap. There’s some tea in the pot, he said. Probably only lukewarm now right enough.

  She nodded.

  Were yous out?

  We went for a meal, called Robert; that new steakhouse place at Charing Cross.

  Aw. Any good?

  No bad. A wee bit pricey but I thought.

  Margaret was standing with the teapot in her hand. Can you let me in to rinse it? she asked.

  Sorry . . . He lifted the bowl out to make way for her.

  Have you ever been in it yourself? called Robert.

  Once or twice, aye.

  How long’s it been open then?

  Eh, I’m no sure. About six month maybe.

  Robert nodded; and while Tammas moved to return the bowl his attention was attracted to the Evening Times. Tammas said, I think there’s no a bad picture coming on . . . He had his hands back in the bowl now then he lifted over a dirty pot and dipped it in, reached for a brillo pad.

  No, said Margaret, it’s non-stick, you’ll just scratch it.

  Aw aye, sorry.

  You’re best just filling it with water and leaving it to soak – it’s the porridge one anyway isnt it?

  Aye.

  Well just leave it to soak.

  Okay. He puffed on the cigarette and some ash fell into the water. There was another pot on the draining board with the remains of scrambled egg on its inside. He dried his right hand on the teatowel and took the cigarette out his mouth, inhaled and exhaled, tapping ash into the rubbish bin. Then he filled the other pot with water and muttered, I’ll just leave this yin to soak as well I think.

  Margaret and Robert had been exchanging looks. And it was Robert who said, Aye eh could you sit down for a minute Tammas, me and Margaret, we were wanting a word with you.

  Aw aye.

  It’s nothing bad.

  Tammas sniffed. Margaret was looking a
t him. He nodded, but continued to stand there, the small of his back leaning against the sink. Shifting his weight onto his right foot he folded his arms. Robert said, D’you mind if I turn the radio down a bit?

  Naw – turn it off all the gether if you like.

  You sure?

  Tammas shrugged. He had a last couple of puffs on the fag before dousing it in the sink and sticking it into the rubbish bin. The kettle of water began boiling; he filled the teapot. Margaret said, Tammas . . . and then stopped.

  Robert glanced at her.

  Tammas asked, Is it to do with the job? I mean because I chucked it and that?

  Well . . . Margaret sighed. It’s no really only to do with that Tammas.

  Cause it was really terrible you know I mean God sake, hh, terrible. You’d have to be crazy to work at it, that rolling machine – terrible!

  Robert shrugged.

  Naw Robert I’m no kidding ye.

  Aye fair enough I’m no saying anything, except maybe if once you’d get used to it and that.

  I would never’ve got used to it.

  Robert shrugged again.

  But what about Billy’s dad? Margaret asked. Is it no a showing up for him after getting you in like that?

  Well Margaret he never really got me in so much as well just the form and that I mean so I could fill it in.

  She nodded.

  It’ll no really matter.

  Are you sure?

  Aye. Billy’s da’s a good auld guy; he doesnt really bother about things.

  After a moment Robert shook his head and smiled briefly. Aye but Tammas that’s no the way to look at it. I mean you dont look at it like that – his da’s a good auld guy and so you dont bother – I mean if anything that’s more of a reason for sticking the bloody job, no chucking it.

  Margaret was nodding.

  No think so yourself?

  Eh, aye, to some extent, probably.

  Surely it’s more than to some extent? said Margaret.

  Tammas sniffed.

  Eh? is it no more than to some extent?

  What do you want me to get my foot burnt off for the sake of Billy’s auld man?

  There’s no need to be cheeky about it Tammas.

  Och I’m no being cheeky Margaret, it’s just – God sake . . . He turned and faced the window above the sink.