Mo said she was quirky (24 page)

It would be strange him and Mo. How he would react, if he was racist, probably he was. But perhaps not. But it happened anywhere. People looked twice. It didnt mean they were racist. Only she got so sick of it, having to think about it and always you did and if you didnt you soon had to because something happened. It put you off going places, even entire districts. Although she handled it better. It was true that most people were. Even without knowing it, the very words they used. They didnt like Muslims, even hated them. And without knowing any my God that made you smile, if you didnt cry, how bad that was, how just sick; really, it was; so prejudiced and shocking, so so shocking. His mates who came to the house, she saw them looking at her too; not in a sexualised way but like they were wondering about her and wondering about Mo; how come here they were together? But surely that was all couples and not just white and Asian? People get together. How on earth do they manage that my God it is just my God it is just like so amazing. And sleep together, just literally sleep together! The trust in that alone! Imagine! Lying beside another human being and asleep, and them beside you and you just lying, and you have that trust because just anything they could do and you are powerless, you are so so powerless, so like all you can do, only trust them, you have to, just so have to – and get beyond it if you can, you have to, because then if you do, if you manage it comes the peace, peace comes, you close your eyes, that is the trust, you can close your eyes and trust the person. Helen trusted Mo; she knew she did, and she had to, that was the other thing.

London was so old. She felt that looking out the window
too. The line passed through London Bridge station where they had the scary exhibition. Mo fancied seeing it. Helen did quite and would, but not with Sophie, definitely not with Sophie. That sense of ‘plague’,
plague
victims. It wasnt scary, it was sad, like zombies, zombies were sad, locked into their disease, the contamination, never satisfied until they infect everybody, if one has to die they all must die.

But it wouldnt be like that, people werent so evil, they were generous, they would want you to survive like with their bell too, people had a bell and rang it; that was like leprosy, they walked the street but kept to the shadows, and how their flesh was eaten away by it, just ravaged faces, and that was the old streets in London too like Jack the Ripper days, evil-smelling and foggy shadows, you would never leave the house, what a nightmare, the olden days, my God but then if it was like Asia or Africa, that was them right now; people were angry, no wonder; Mo was right when he said it.

Oh well, the tube or a walk? She enjoyed walking up from the station but tonight she was taking a tube; her railcard covered it anyway. It was her mind but her mind was
jumpy
. A funny expression, ‘jumpy’, but it was how she felt. If she could have relaxed she might have done it, she might have walked, because she did enjoy it, although she preferred walking down to walking up. There were hills in London even if you didnt notice them.

But the night ahead, things to think about, she wanted to be clear and just have it worked out, work through things and what she would do, walking helped the process, it could.

Perhaps she would walk. She had a choice of tube stations too. Usually she travelled to the one nearest the casino but not necessarily. Really, it was six and half a dozen. What did it matter? just save hassle, that was the important thing, making life easy, so so important, it was.

The train had arrived at Charing Cross and she still hadnt
worked it out but that was her and her indecisiveness; she was so hopeless when it came to decisions, she just seemed to do things, or else didnt do them. Why didnt you do it? You said you would and now you didnt.

I changed my mind.

She changed her mind. Was that ‘allowed’?

But did she ‘change her mind’? Did she even
have
a ‘mind’?
Mind
. People were people. Helen didnt care about any of it, only Sophie, worries about Sophie like if the childminder, Azizah – Azizah was good and Helen was so lucky to get her, she was so nice, and responsible too, and clever, and would follow instructions. Sophie would be put in bed and would sleep. Azizah would leave the door open and sit in the corner with the reading lamp. Sophie would know she was there and be comforted, and that was that. Helen was walking across the station platform now, she was going to walk because she wanted to walk; it gave her time to think, to just think; clear her brain and think, and everybody rushing around too in the same way, everybody just like here there and everywhere, all roundabout, and bad-mannered too some of them it was like not even seeing people the way they barged past.

She paused by the exit then continued, glad to be outside – and the rain too, it was raining; she hadnt expected the rain, although why not? If it had been raining earlier, why not now? Quite heavy too, and heavier, getting heavier. She had the brolly, and kept walking while bringing it from her bag. People were even sheltering my God it
was
heavy. She returned the brolly into her bag, headed back to the station, and downstairs to the tube.

Even here the choice. Nothing came like in a straightforward way, decisions always; one tube or two? one with a walk and two with less of a walk. So so busy. People out for the night and going home, and here and there, others. Where they all were going. Hostels. Foreign people went to them, and
students, downmarket hotels; DSS places with sheets of cardboard as pretend walls dividing the lodgers and these very heavy guys on the reception and grunting at you; broken locks and windows and dirt, and stains; and some lodgers were elderly people with nowhere else to go; their last resting place my God what kind of life? all their days, and working so hard just to survive and some not able to because not everybody is able, they cant all manage. People cant, they cant; they try and they cant. So where do they go? If that was Brian, that was the life, people are critical and they dont know the situation.

Even the busker, sounding so professional and so so accomplished, really, and yet here he was at the foot of the escalator, trapped, it was like slavery. Imagine his girlfriend, she would be so so angry, and no wonder my God such a fine musician condemned to this, is this all he would get from life?

It didnt matter about the
Big Issue
but she gave the woman the money, the same woman. Sometimes three nights in a week. She didnt look too grateful. Some do and some dont; different at different times. Everybody has a bad day, they cant always be cheery. ‘Have a nice day,’ and what is theirs? And if they were too grateful. For Helen it was like why? why should they have been? Did they think you were something? like if she was rich. Because people dress in a certain way doesnt mean they are rich, if they thought that. Helen might have had a job but that didnt make her rich either for God sake who would think that?

There was a wee old gypsy woman sold it too. She might not have been a gypsy. Just a wee woman and old. Where did she come from? Where did she go? What happens to people? It was like a dream or a figment. Was she ever there in the first place! A wee round woman and quite plump. How could she be plump if she had no food? sitting on the pavement; small and round and you thought about grandchildren and she would have been making a big pot of soup and kids would be
home from school and having a laugh and she would make them all sit down and ladle them out the soup, that was her, near Leicester Square, her back to the wall.
Big Issue
. Nobody wanted it; nobody in the entire world. Helen had the image, her sitting there my goodness why was she smiling? she was always smiling and it was almost like
unpleasant
. Helen didnt like seeing her, and no wonder, going where she was going, gamblers gambling, and the winers and diners and money and jewellery flashing about. You saw the anger there too; sometimes you did. People just looked at you and just like oh you had money and they didnt. That was the attitude and they were so wrong, so so wrong.

Helen entered the casino via the main entrance lobby, downstairs to the cloakroom. Here the staff area was linked through a side door. The restroom was known as the ‘green room’ as though it was the theatre or television. It irritated one of the older women because she had been an actress. Helen could sympathise, but not too much. Casinos
were
part of the entertainment industry. And they had their own ‘uniforms’, the sexee ladee frocks, so they were actresses too. And the boys in their wee mauve waistcoats and black bowties, just silly, although they looked nice, quite manly, or else camp; both at once, appealing to the women and the men.

She was glad she had taken the tube for the extra twenty minutes; just being able to relax, my God. This evening was different, different but not different. She had no idea and no plan but something was going to happen. She knew it was. And she was going to do it, at the end of the shift. She was. She knew she was, and felt quite level-headed. If that is what it was, ‘level-headed’, just like relaxed, and her mind too, so so relaxed.

It wasnt true she had no idea or plan; only that she hadnt worked it out. She knew it was going to happen; something, whatever.

If she
had
walked from Charing Cross she would have got soaked. Not soaked, but wet. Only it wouldnt have been pleasant, not for a walk; walking was a pleasure and this evening it wouldnt have been. So it was a good decision. She could make them! good decisions. Not if you believed her ex, that was the last thing, any decision. You were seen and not heard, that was women. A dealer she knew so lost it with her husband she tried to stab him with a bread knife but his chest was like so so bony the knife bounced off. ‘Bony bastard’, that was what she called him. One of
these
‘Glasgow women’. That was how Helen thought of them.

Although she was one herself; and felt that she was. Oh well, if that meant a fighter, thank God. But was she? Sometimes she wasnt, like not a
real
Glasgow woman, she was just

what was she?

Oh God, she didnt know, she didnt know, just whoever, whoever she was.

So weird. But minds
are
weird. Mo would have laughed at her saying that but it was true. Men acted ‘differently’. Men ‘rationalised’, women acted on ‘impulse’. Men ‘thought’ it through whereas women didnt. So they said, if you believed
them
because it was
them
saying it; at the same time giving themselves a pat on the back. That was men, stealing compliments at the slightest opportunity.

But even ‘it’, what did ‘it’ mean, they thought ‘it’ through? it was just stupid, it was like thinking of the thing before it happened but how could they? they werent God, men werent God – they only thought they were.

The door opened. Michel came in; a Belgian man, he was older, he gave a little wave, cheery. Helen was finishing a cup of tea. Others had already arrived, including Jill. Nobody was talking. A listings magazine lay on a nearby chair opened at the classifieds. Helen began browsing. She needed new curtains.
They had to be thick, the ones she had werent thick enough. Old ones Mo got from somebody but so like thin a material the light came through, so how could you sleep? you could not sleep. Furniture too, if ever she got her own place and unfurnished so she could do it however she wanted, just however, her and Sophie, and real bedrooms, Sophie would have a real one, it would be wonderful, so wonderful.

An Inspector had moved in behind her chair. Helen was collecting the discards. She wished she could kick off her shoes. It was a silly rule that dealers werent allowed. Nobody would have noticed unless lying on their back beneath the table. Except the ‘odour’. Management dont care for ‘odours’. Of course the place already had one, according to a card tacked up on the ‘green room’ noticeboard: ‘essence of greedy bastard’ mixed with ‘sweaty body’.

When gambling people are forced to wait. They have no choice. Occasionally somebody shivers. Two men once bet on how long it took her to shuffle and deal the next hand. It wasnt a criticism. Now a guy was looking straight at her. Why shouldnt he have been she was the dealer and it was allowed.

She finished shuffling the cards, handed the marker to the player whose turn it was to cut. If there was a smell she barely noticed it. Most places have a smell. Such is life. Think of dogs. Not only a smell: a look, a feel and a sound. That is what life is, if you dont like it.

Her right forefinger was tapping the baize where a bet was to be placed. She dealt:

a card a card a card, a card a card a card: and one for the bank, a ten.

A card a card a card, a card a card a card. Pause.

Card card stay, card bust, stay, card bust, stay, stay. Ten to the ten.

Helen raked in the chips and onwards:

a card a card a card, a card a card a card, and one for the bank, a seven.

A card a card a card, a card a card a card. Pause.

The same guy looking. She didnt care for the way he was doing it, that smile; no, she didnt care for it.

The Inspector had moved from behind Helen’s chair but was watching her when she glanced in his direction. Inspectors have to ‘watch’, that is their job. Dealers as well as punters. If she fell asleep! Imagine, head lolling, that would be her. There
were
times she got tired, and she
could
have slept, certainly, just like dozed off in the middle of everything. Imagine the punters, their lucky day, reaching across for the chips. Would anybody waken her up in case she got fired? Yes, some generous soul. They werent all horrors; far from it. But when had the ogler sat down? she hadnt noticed till she saw him looking.

Whose word was that, ‘ogler’? A dealer Helen worked beside who gave names to them all and was good at mimicking their mannerisms. Any oglers in tonight? Eyebrows up, down and sideways. He was another talented person. In every place she ever worked there was somebody. What was it about casinos? It was one of
these
jobs, like in Hollywood restaurants, who was serving the food? you never knew if it was a well-known actor ‘between jobs’. So they said anyway, if it could be believed. Fantasy-land; people hoping to get ‘discovered’. They expected it to happen. Everybody was somebody. They had their own talents or like things about them that were special or they thought were special.