A Chancer (38 page)

Cathy shook her head. This place is always freezing. I had the two bars on just before you came in. And sometimes I put the oven on as well.

Christ!

It’s damp, the whole building. That’s how I go about looking like a tramp all the time, it’s to keep warm.

He nodded.

After a moment she asked, D’you no feel it cold?

Naw, no really.

Well, men dont get as cold as women.

He looked at her.

It’s true.

What!

That’s how little you know.

Hh! He chuckled.

Honest Tammas I’m no kidding, feel my hand! She moved to kneel, putting forwards her hand and he took it in his and held it for a few seconds, gazing at the fireplace. She asked, Well?

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 minute 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.