by James Kelman
People blamed people all the time. Dad blamed Brian. He gave him rows. Why? Because he was clumsy, awkward, banging into things, and lanky, a big lanky long-legs. He just seemed so lanky. Other girls said it, look at big lanky, that was what they said, it was embarrassing, just silly. Dad was silly, saying these things. It was not Brian’s fault. And sarcastic too, why was Dad so sarcastic? Sarcasm made people awkward and they get nervous. People are nervous, especially if they are young.
She left the photographs lying a moment, then reached for them. It wasnt nice leaving them on the floor. And it wasnt nice calling Dad silly. Helen said things and did things. She didnt think it through. She should have but didnt. The same as a child she did things and said things and then trouble because of it and Dad was so quick always quick just so quick to jump, poor Brian. Too quick. That was Dad. He was just too quick, and with Brian especially, it was not fair. But how could she be responsible? If she was a wee girl. That was all she was my God, why should she have felt guilty? there was no reason at all, it was complete stupidity, childish stupidity. It wasnt her fault if Dad gave Brian into trouble and didnt punish her, why should she be guilty? Not if she wasnt, if she didnt do anything. People arent guilty.
It was complete nonsense.
These old things going round inside her head.
No wonder. She was so tired.
People’s lives depressed her. The subject alone. Even to think about. My God she even depressed herself. She couldnt stop it. And too she was on her own. She was. Mo was great but people are on their own, isolated, they get isolated. Although she had Sophie who was flesh and blood and a piece of herself. Helen felt that she was, just like so so close to her, she could feel the pain, and would feel the pain, when Sophie grew and experienced life, all the ups and downs, Helen would feel it too, she would be with her. Because it would be like herself it was happening to, she couldnt describe it properly, flesh of her flesh, people said that and it was true, Helen felt it so strongly, they were your own flesh and blood, children, they really were.
It was so true.
A slice of toast. Her stomach was empty. She didnt eat properly. Mo said it too. But it was nerves, it was only nerves. If people dont eat, they think it is a disorder, other people think it is, and it isnt because you want to eat but you cannot, you cannot.
It would have been good to talk to somebody. Not Mo. Mo was good but it needed somebody different, who knew her differently. Another woman especially. Ann Marie. Who else! Helen smiled. No wonder. Ann Marie made anybody smile. Even the way she talked, like in a movie. She was a cleaner at the last casino Helen worked at in Glasgow but had been a croupier when she was younger and told good stories about the old days: all the characters, the gangsters and crazy people. There were more of them back then. Ann Marie made anything funny. She was great at jokes. Helen was hopeless. Helen couldnt tell a joke to save her life. She tried to but she couldnt. Every time she did it went wrong. People never laughed. They never laughed! And she knew they wouldnt. Halfway through telling it, if she was telling a joke or a funny story, she saw the person’s face and knew they wouldnt. Were they even listening? Perhaps they werent. Even Mo. He laughed but why did he? It wasnt because her jokes were funny. More like sad. She was sad, a sad case.
You had to make it funny. Others did. Even Jill could be funny; she didnt think she was but she really really was. It was the way she said things in her posh voice. She wasnt being snobbish. Yes she was serious but funny serious. Helen wasnt. Helen was always serious, serious serious, serious about everything, serious serious serious oh God why was she always so serious?
But she wasnt always. Not always. She wasnt. My God! Not as a girl. Never. She hadnt been. Even now. She loved to laugh. Ann Marie made her laugh. Mo too, he made her laugh all the time. And Sophie, who was a born comedian the way she made faces and acted her parts, a born actress into the bargain, if ever she got the chance, she would be so good, if she worked at it, she had to; if she did she would make the grade. All she needed was a chance. People had to get a chance. That was society’s fault how people were so stifled and everything so hopeless. People said it was the western world but it wasnt only the western world.
It wasnt.
People are no different from each other. Some think they are. Why do they? They think they are different and they arent. No one is. Mo or whoever. Brian too; he might have had problems but he wasnt unique. Not even her ex was unique my God even if he thought he was.
But Helen wasnt either, and never thought she was. He could never have accused her of that. You had to go out in the world and do things for yourself. Helen knew that from an early age, even if her ex didnt. Nothing came to you, you got it by yourself. And if you took a chance. People tried to and they got defeated, they lost and lost everything. Then they tried to hide it from those closest to them, putting on their brave face; that was the saddest thing about it. But what did they do when they went home and locked the door? If they had lost everything. What did they do when nobody else was there? Except if they had a partner, their wife or somebody. Oh my God, the things Helen had seen, and the violence, just at the tables and the way the man looked at the woman, and she wasnt doing anything! She wasnt. She was just there and there beside him and it was him losing everything, losing everything and she was there and knew it and no one else did and he was acting just so cool and laughing if somebody made a joke, but he had lost everything. Then getting up to leave, the woman not looking at anybody. Sometimes they just sat there and didnt move, they had forgotten to move away from the table and it was up to the dealer to attract their attention. It would have been embarrassing for some. They hardly noticed.
Oh well.
Helen had a cup of tea now, and sipped at it. Having Ann Marie there would have made a difference. Just somebody to talk to who knew. Ann Marie knew.
They kept in touch by phone. Once in a blue moon. It was Helen’s fault. She left it to Ann Marie to make the phone call because she didnt want to bother her. But she should have bothered her. Ann Marie gave her rows about that. Although nightshift hours made it extra difficult. It would have been better to text. But even Ann Marie’s voice made her smile, the way she spoke, not even like what she said, it didnt matter. Although she was wrong to say there were no characters left, as if they had all died off! Perhaps in Glasgow but not down here. There were real characters down here, and charmers, real smoothies. What about the mad doctor? Really he was a surgeon. But a true character. Not a smoothie but nice, but also a flirt, he was. Some flirts are funny and cheery and he was like that. He came from a rich family in India and gambled every night near enough. All his money went on blackjack and roulette. But he was a nice man and a good person. If he was high caste, he didnt have a down on people, not like you got from some who only looked at you if they wanted something and hardly even then, they thought you should know in advance – like a servant; that was what it was, they treated you like a servant. The mad doctor was not like that. He was generous to the dealers, the boys too, everybody; even when he didnt win he tipped them, that was his way, and he chatted to anybody, chatted all the time. He got tipsy on rum and lost fortunes. It was a special Indian blend they kept for him and once he started he didnt stop. I am a disappointment. My family have cast me asunder. I am doomed to walk in the wilderness.
Because he was a disappointment to them. They were wealthy people and upper class. Being a surgeon or something like a doctor was a disappointment to them. In Britain this was the best but not for them. They were high caste and very high up. They had a caste system in India and they were top people. He was not degenerate. Mo said he was but he wasnt. It was a horrible word and sounded like perversion, as if the surgeon was perverted and he was not at all perverted, it was not fair to say it.
Mo was biased against rich people; and biased against India too. He said he wasnt but he was. Caste and class; rich people and poor people and how the rich ones always take the best for themself and just go with whoever gives t
hem it, just like soldiers and prostitutes. But it wasnt fair saying that, only if it was mercenary soldiers, and that didnt apply to them all. Mo was wrong. It was generalisations. That was why Muslim people got a bad name, you cant tar everybody with the same brush, even Americans, most soldiers were just poor people needing a job, the same with casinos. If he hated them too. He did hate them, and was on shaky ground as well he knew. Anyway, she didnt talk to him about work matters. Not unless she had to. The same with her ex who hated hearing about high stakes and big gamblers and said it was boring. Mo didnt say that although for him it might have been. But about other men was Mo jealous? Helen was not sure. Sometimes it seemed liked he was. But not like a jealousy, not a real one. If ever it was she would walk. She had had enough of that to last a lifetime. The very idea, it was so not ever ever going to happen again. Never. The slightest thing, and she was away. He was vicious. People wouldnt have believed her because they didnt see bruises. Women got bruised in other ways. Men can have cheery words and jokes. It fools some people. So let them be fooled. If they wanted to be fooled, let them.
Mo was nothing at all like him. Only he was silly and did things for fun, and also like a compliment, so Helen felt good about herself. It was nice being valued.
The mad doctor may have been a decent man but she was not about to run off with him. What nonsense it all was. If ever she ran off with anybody, she would know. Anyway, he was not her type. If she had a type, he was not it.
There was a serious side to this: you wouldnt look twice at certain men; it didnt matter if they were good-looking, so-called, it didnt matter. But he was not what you would expect of a surgeon. Surgeons were delicate, or supposed to be, that was their job, everything with pin-point accuracy. He was nothing like that. He was not at all athletic. You couldnt imagine him ever running, or if he played a game like tennis or squash, you just could not imagine it. Never an ordinary game like football, it would never be football. His body too! My God. Big and clumsy, that was him. Imagine his body! She couldnt, pure and simple.
It wasnt fair to say, but if she did have a type he was not it.
Not everybody liked him either. His chattering spoiled people’s concentration. Some gamblers never spoke, only very basic words, so when he was doing it they looked away.
It was understandable. If people are losing they have to concentrate. They need to. The surgeon was like a nuisance. Some regulars thought that, and with his drinking. When the cards were dealt they didnt want distractions. And if he said the wrong thing. You never knew who was at the table. Once in Glasgow a man brought out a gun and just laughed, he pretended it was absent-mindedness but really he did it for a joke, laying it on the table edge as he searched for his cigarettes. He was about to go out for a smoke. Ann Marie was dealing the cards at that time. She made a witty comment about tissues: at least it wasnt a snottery tissue like how some people leave their snottery tissues on the baize. That was so disgusting, never mind pistol-guns. People had been barred from the casino for less than that but this guy wasnt. He was a regular and played for big money. That came first before everything. He apologised to the Inspector and the manager and apologised to Ann Marie as well, if he made her scared. Of course he made her scared! Imagine a pistol-gun. Ann Marie called them ‘pistol-guns’. What was he doing with a pistol-gun? People laughed. Helen did too, when Ann Marie was telling her, because it was funny and you couldnt help it, but it was the laugh you do when you shiver. Some men made you shiver. You had to be careful. Helen was, or tried to be.
Jill came out with something daft about the surgeon, thinking he might be gay. He only appears to flirt, she said, he isnt serious. If you made a move he would run a mile.
Helen smiled when Jill said that. It was so unlike her. And very very silly. So if the guy was not serious with her, so then he was gay? Is that what she was saying? It was silly and not what you would expect from Jill.
Anyway, if he was, Helen would have known, and she was not a boaster saying that. Men looked at her and the surgeon was one. Their brains were someplace else. Men dont have brains. That was Ann Marie, ‘it’ thinks for them, ‘it’ meaning ‘thing’ as in penis. Their eyes were watching you when you glanced up from the cards and you saw them for that one split second before they looked away, unless they wanted you to see. Then if they went further and gave a wee signal, smiling longer or else whatever, men did it in a certain way and it was obvious, you knew it was happening, even when it was a surprise; people who should have known better, if they were in the public eye like on television or football players. Two were regulars. They were new in their football team, new in the country, and this was where they came, them and their French voices; it was French they spoke, just sexy and funny and the women talked about them. But they were only boys, they shouldnt have been spending their time in casinos. And if they were reported? People tell stories, they phone up the newspapers. Their football manager wouldnt have liked it.
Just being alive was a gamble. You opened a door and what was behind? You never knew. Everybody took risks. Helen too, she had done. Never again. Never. Never never. Oh my God the thought, the very thought! The one she went with made her shiver. Even thinking about him. It was true. Who made her feel like that? Nobody. Oh how he looked at her, he just had to, even away over, he would be standing away over and she would be dealing and perhaps somebody asking for a card and she happened to see him, just glancing across. Then he was gone; she looked and she didnt see him. She couldnt stop thinking about him, he just arrived and she saw him and then he was away and she couldnt think of anything else. That was so against the rules. You could act ordinary in the job but when it came to men and it took away your concentration, oh no, then their hands were in the till and you were out a job.
It was dangerous too. He was dangerous. Men that made you feel that way, some did and he was one.
There were rumours about him. Nothing bad; not that Helen ever heard and she would have heard because she listened for it. And never anything to her, not in the slightest, only how he made her feel, and the respect for her, that was what he had. He never acted badly towards her. So if it was sex my God that was her business. It was. He just made her feel good. That was him and the man he was. If he was different with men, well of course he was: men are different with men and so are women, different from women, different from each other; of course they are. It made life a puzzle. Men could be strange, they did unexpected things, foolish things, they took foolish risks. Why had he chosen her. Because it was true that he did, he did choose her.
It was her he chose. My God. Out of everybody.
He was a puzzle. Men were. But him, he really was. Being older too, that made it more so. Helen didnt like older men, and their bodies. No, she didnt. It was only him. What did he do to her? it was like he did something. He didnt attract her: he made it so that she could be attracted; then it was up to her, she could allow it or not, so it was her, so that is the risk and she took it.
And he parted from her.
He did! You would have thought the other way round, her leaving the man, but not Mr Adams, just disappearing like as if she had done something. She hadnt. It was him. He just went out her life. People do that. You want to know why, they dont tell you. Brian was the same. He was exactly the same. That was men, why do they do it? Even a brother.
Oh but she was glad it finished with Mr Adams because with her ex, it didnt bear thinking if he found out, he would have killed him. Or said he would. Fantasy-land. It was only her he would have killed. In comparison to Mr Adams he was a boy, not fit for the company. Vulgar and silly, silly and stupid, a vulgar and stupid young guy, that was her ex. It was hard to imagine him in the same room. Mr Adams only would have looked at him. If even he noticed him. That would have been nice to see: that would have put him in his place.
The arrogance of it. And what had he to be arrogant about? Just a stupid stupid, stupid and vulgar and just silly, and foolish, so so foolish.
But if ever he had found
out. My God!
Helen could have told him. Imagine she had. To set against the arrogance, the pure arrogance, how somebody could be so arrogant, so stupid and so
and with so nothing to be arrogant about!
That would have been something to see, if she had told her ex. What might he have done? Nothing. There was nothing. He might have thought he could. Small chance. He would have had another think coming, if he so much as touched her, the slightest thing.
Yes she had gone with Mr Adams, so she had taken the risk. That was her and her own personal experience.
Even now he would have had that effect. If ever she was to see him my God, trembling hands if she was drinking tea, it was ridiculous, a grown woman.
Her life was so strange. Things happened. She didnt know anything about him. But she went with him and it was to a hotel. Of course he was married, she knew nothing about that. What did she know? She knew she was safe: that was what she knew. Knowledge was not a fault. Helen wanted it for Sophie. Mum hadnt wanted it for her. Why was that? Imagine not wanting knowledge for your daughter. Knowledge helped you survive. You needed it as a woman.
Helen closed her eyes.
If something bad had happened to him, she wouldnt have known. Who would have told her? Nobody. She sought news of him in the newspapers, watched television, listened to radio. She wasnt being silly. Mr Adams had that about him. He was somebody. She knew he was.
She should have been in bed. Why was she still sitting here? She wasnt fit to sleep. She didnt deserve it.
Daylight had come so if she was not asleep, well, she never would be, and no wonder, it was all just men, how many were there? not that many, she wasnt thinking about that, only how they looked, they always looked. It wasnt her fault. Why did Mum blame her? But she did. If a boy was at the door or shouted up at the window or what? whistled in the street. Mum blamed her. Why? It wasnt her fault. Men looked, they always looked. A mother should know the girl isnt to blame. Brian wasnt the only one who left home.
