A Chancer (24 page)

Naw. What is this – fucking question-time! Tammas frowned and he peered at the track where the dogs were being held by their handlers for the vet to check them. Yous better hurry if yous
want a bet, he said, and he left them there, made his way up to the part of the Stand from where he tried to watch most of the races.

He lighted a cigarette, put his hands in his trouser pockets and hunched his shoulders. There was a wee man with spectacles two terracing steps in front of him. Tammas leaned forwards: Hey
Shuggie, fucking freezing the night eh?

Ah you’re no fucking kidding son! The wee man was smoking a roll up; he brought it out of his mouth and turned sideways to drop a mouthful of spit onto the ground. What d’you bet? he
said.

Fuck all.

The wee man nodded. Hard race. I fancy the F.A.V. right enough.

Aye, it’s got a chance. So’s the 4 dog but.

Ran a good race on Saturday. Mind? came wide at the 3rd bend? Would’ve won out the fucking pack if it hadnt!

No danger. Tammas rubbed his hands: The backmarker’s got a chance as well!

I was thinking that myself. Any trouble round the 1st and it’ll be right up with them!

Tammas nodded, standing back up a step. Billy had appeared at his side, breathless, and whispering: Hey man thanks for the handful . . . I mean it, honest, thanks.

Ssshh.

Then John appeared behind him. And the hooter was sounding, the stadium lights dimming. John stepped round the back of Billy and Tammas both, and he began speaking. It’s no as big a crowd
as I expected. According to what I hear they really get great crowds at that White City track in Manchester.

Tammas laughed.

Naw I’m no kidding but.

Then the loud roaring as the dogs raced for the 1st bend. Tammas was watching and saying, The backmarker Billy, look at it go look at it go! It’s a certainty.

On you go the 1! Billy had his hands cupped to his mouth and yelled: On you go ya beauuttehh! 1 dog you’re a fucking moral!

The wee man turned and shouted: It’s a dancer! the backmarker! Favourite’s fucked!

The dog from trap 1 hit the front shortly before the last bend and it won easily. Billy threw his arms aloft and jumped at Tammas, flinging his arms round him and yelling: I got 6’s too ya
fucking beauty! 6’s! 6 to fucking 1!

I didnt even know you had money! cried John.

He didnt! The bastard! Tammas laughed: I loaned him a fiver!

A fiver! What did you have on it? asked John.

Aw just a pound, said Billy, just a pound.

Still and all . . .

Billy laughed.

After he had collected the winnings he paused a moment while John walked on, and he said to Tammas: Here, I’ll give you the fiver back.

Dont be daft! Hang on and see how it goes. Tammas grinned, It might be your night – you’ve fucking waited long enough!

And when you go into a pub it’s bitter you ask for, no heavy. That right Billy?

True. Billy grinned.

Aye but these Blackpool pubs, said John. I mean they were brilliant. And you thought the same as us Billy so dont give us it!

Naw I agree, I agree.

John shook his head. Even the lassies Tammas – and this pair we met, from Stockport they came. They were telling us Manchester pubs were the best you could get. Cabarets and all that as
well. That right Billy?

Defintootly.

Ach shut your fucking mouth!

Wait a minute John I’m agreeing with you!

You’re no fucking agreeing with us at all!

Aye I am.

Heh, said Tammas, stop this fighting. We’ve got to dig out a winner for this next yin. Okay Billy, what’s it to be?

I’m divulging nothing.

Ach divulge man for fuck sake?

Naw, you’re not on.

Ach please?

Nope.

See yous pair! John shook his head. How come yous never tell any cunt what you’re betting?

The mokkers John boy the mokkers. Billy grinned: Never heard of the mokkers?

Seriously but.

Seriously! Well!

Tammas said, I dont mind telling you John – as long as you wait till after the thing’s won or got gubbed. I have to admit as well right enough, I dont even want to fucking talk about
this race cause the nap’s going in it.

Your nap?

My nap.

Billy said: I know what it is.

What d’you mean you know what it is?

I know what it is man, that’s all.

Do you fuck.

I do man – you let it slip in
Simpson’s
last night.

I wasnt even fucking in
Simpson’s
last night!

Aye you were!

Was I fuck!

Well it must’ve been this morning then.

Ach . . . John had opened the
Adviser
and was reading the tipster’s comments on the race. This guy fancies Real Smooth, he said to Tammas, what’d’you think man?

It’s got a chance.

Tch, according to you everything’s got a fucking chance!

John! that’s the whole fucking point!

Billy laughed.

Down in the betting enclosure Tammas made his bet quickly and was walking up the steps of the Stand when the other two came out from the bar. They arrived next to him just as the lights dimmed;
then the hooter was sounding and the dummy hare railing towards the boxes. As the traps crashed open Tammas had his hands cupped to his mouth and he was roaring: On the Mona’s! On the
Mona’s! Easy the Mona’s! Then he muttered, Bastard . . . Mona’s is beat. Dog 3’s a stonewall.

What? cried John. On 3! On 3!

And Billy was yelling Go on the 3 dog! On the 3 dog! How far the Smooth! Go on the Smooth!

After the race Billy and John were pumping each other’s hands. John shouted: I put my money on at 5 to 2! 5 to 2!

Same with me. Ya fucking beauty! Billy began jumping on the spot: Ya fucking beauty! A fiver I had on it Tammas!

Tammas nodded. Mind you man you were a bit lucky. If the limit hadnt come off the rails then Mona’s would’ve came inside and end of story. He was fighting for it too – brave
wee dog. Tammas shrugged: Then yours’s got a clear run right up the centre of the track. Still – a good winner.

He went to the bar immediately, leaving the others to collect their money. He was sipping at his beer when they entered. John was laughing and he said, It was a fucking great race but!

Aye, said Tammas, I just dropped a fifty right enough.

What?

After a moment John glanced at Billy who peered along the bar, then waved at a barmaid. John frowned at Tammas: Fifty quid man?

Tammas offered them from his cigarette packet without replying.

Christ Tammas you bet too much for me. The same when we won at the chemmy – mind? you turned round and stuck eighty pound on a horse?

Did I?

John looked at him.

Tammas smiled. Only kidding . . . He stepped from the bar saying, See yous in a minute; I’m going for a slash.

He made his way through the crowded room in the direction of the lavatory but bypassed it and went outside.

It was far too early yet for betting on the next race. Punters were standing about chatting and reading raceforms; some wee boys dodged about playing games; two men leaned over the wall
separating the enclosure from the racetrack, in conversation with a man in a white coat, a dog trainer.

Tammas had lighed a cigarette and he strolled along to the fenced off section, where the ordinary terracing started. He stood there for a time, until the cries of the bookies yelling odds had
been happening for several minutes. He walked quickly to the betting enclosure. It was crowded. He moved in at once to lay his bet and was up in his position before the vet checked the
greyhounds.

John was first to arrive. What happened to you? he asked. Billy bought you a drink. Still lying there on the bar.

Good. Nobody’ll touch it.

I wasnt fucking meaning that.

John, I wish you’d give us peace a minute . . . Tammas turned away from him and he stared in the direction of the totalisator board. He sniffed and took out his cigarettes, gave one to
John without speaking.

Are you losing a lot?

Naw am I fuck. Tammas shook his head; he sniffed again and glanced at him. Naw . . . he shrugged.

John had his cigarette-lighter out and he flicked it and Tammas bent to take a light. John said, I dont know if Billy mentioned anything to you man but I was going to say if yous eh, the two of
yous and that, if yous wanted to, it’d be good if the two of yous came down to England and that as well – cause I’m definitely going. Maybe next week.

To England you mean?

Aye. Manchester. There’s bags of work. And the night-life, it’s supposed to be really fucking brilliant man. I really fancy it. I think it’d be great. I mean this place is dead
Tammas you’ve got to admit it.

Tammas shrugged. He glanced down the steps, seeing Billy appear, making his way in a hurry towards them.

John was saying: Even things like buying drinks I mean a guy in the work was telling us that the women down there, if you’re in a boozer with them they’re happy with a half pint of
lager or a bottle of mild beer – no like here man, fucking bacardis and coke and all that! And with the three of us into it we’d get a decent flat.

Sounds interesting, said Billy.

The lights in the Stadium dimmed and the crowd hushed as the hooter sounded. From the traps the dogs could be heard scrabbling against the metal gates and then the hare was whirring past and the
crowd roaring. Tammas stared at the dogs breaking and racing to the 1st bend. He was nodding, and he continued nodding as they rounded it and headed up the back straight. He dropped his programme
to the ground; he turned and muttered, See yous in the bar.

•••

He wakened early on Christmas morning; ben the front room he switched on the electric fire and the television. There was a packet of cigars lying on the mantelpiece, a present
from Robert and Margaret. He unwrapped the outer covering and extracted one, smelled it quite closely from end to end before inserting it in the corner of his mouth. And he gazed at himself in the
mirror. When he struck the match for it he inhaled and coughed on it, and began to sneeze. In the kitchen he blew his nose, made a cup of instant coffee. He doused the cigar in the water gathered
at the drain in the sink.

A film for children was beginning on television and he settled to watch it, sitting in Robert’s armchair, stretching out, his stocking soles to within a foot of the fire.

Eventually he dozed.

A lot of shouting and bawling was going on down in the street. A group of kids chasing after a girl on a bike. He watched them; one wee girl tossing what seemed like half a brick at the other
girl’s back and it glanced off her and the handlebars could be seen jerking sideways but the girl managing to correct it and she cycled on, putting a good distance between herself and the
rest of them. And the rest of them yelling after her. He drew the curtains and collected the partly smoked cigar from the kitchen but he left it on the mantelpiece, and walked to the front door and
opened it, and he put the latch on and went upstairs quickly and chapped Mrs Brady’s door. He chapped it again. He folded his arms, shivering. He began moving from one foot to the other. Then
he bent to lift the flap of the letterbox and peered inside. There were no lights on at all and the doors off the lobby were all shut.

He flapped the letterbox quite loudly, before returning downstairs. In the kitchen he filled a kettle to make a pot of tea. When the kettle boiled he switched on the grill and he toasted two
slices of bread and cheddar cheese. And afterwards, sitting on the carpet in front of the fire, he relighted the cigar and watched television, eating some of the chocolates Robert and Margaret had
given him.

•••

The elderly attendant pushed open the door for the pair to leave and as they walked up the stairs Billy began whistling. Tammas paused on the first landing and he shook his
head, cleared his throat and spat to the ground. And he muttered, Fucking beats me how you can whistle man it really does.

Ah! Billy smiled: Got to be an optimist in this life. Anyhow Tammas dont worry about it, it was my three quid.

Tammas stopped walking. They were approaching the exit out to the pavement. He said: That’s a fucking good yin right enough – your three quid! Well well well.

What’s up?

What’s up? Fuck all up.

Billy had his hands in his trouser pockets and he hunched his shoulders and coughed slightly. Okay okay, he said, I’m still owing you some dough, if that’s what you’re fucking
on about.

Naw, that’s no what I’m fucking on about.

Billy nodded. He sniffed and spat out onto the pavement.

That’s no what I’m on about.

Well what fucking are you on about then for fuck sake! Billy had turned sharply to face him, his face reddening.

After a moment Tammas replied. Nothing . . . nothing at all Billy nothing at all. And he stepped out onto the pavement and started walking down towards Argyle Street.

Billy caught up with him. What you on about?

Tammas looked at him. What am I on about? You ya cunt.
Your
three quid.
Your
three quid. Christ sake man we’ve been helping each other out for fucking years and then you turn
round and start that kind of fucking patter!
Your
three quid! Hh! fuck sake!

Billy made no answer and the two of them continued without talking for a while. About five minutes passed. They paused to glance in the display window of a men’s clothes shop. Tammas
indicated a pair of trousers and muttered, No bad them.

Billy nodded. When they were walking on he said, Look Tammas I didnt mean it like that, about my dough and the rest of it.

Ach!

Naw but . . . Billy nodded again, then he added: But I’m no kidding ye man sometimes I think you take it too serious.

Naw I dont. I dont take it too serious at all.

I think you do but, sometimes man.

Mm.

Naw but I’m no kidding ye.

Tammas nodded.

They were approaching a junction; the traffic-lights showed red and some people stood waiting the change but Tammas and Billy walked between them and crossed immediately, dodging a couple of
motor cars. On the opposite pavement Tammas sniffed and he said, I’ll tell you something Billy, being honest, I’d rather take it too serious than the way you fucking take it –
whatever that might be cause I dont fucking know.