James Kelman - Mo said she was quirky

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.

The ogler was the opposite. He had nothing.

He was so not her type, my God. And if one person felt that way then the other must also, they must know something, if there is not a single solitary spark, just the exact opposite, the opposite of a ‘spark’. And surely if it is as strong as that my God!

Helen sighed. The Inspector would have noticed. Is there a problem? Yes, I am tired!

Split aces, doubling up. A player had halted proceedings and was waiting on her. His English was bad but he knew the game. She reached to sort out the bet. He nodded but not in approval; it was as if she had made a mistake and he had corrected it.

Between him and the ogler. And ‘wealthy woman’ had been at her table earlier. Helen called her that. It was her own name for the woman. Her man was the gambler, he played roulette and she kept out his way. She wasnt friendly. She didnt have to be.

Where did the money come from? What had her man ever done in the world? Unless it was her; she could have been something.

Then the ones who were there and werent there. That was how they acted, even like texting, and the cards were there and waiting; the game held up for them. So cool, just so cool. Money didnt matter, sitting at your table but like they were someplace else, gazing across to the other tables or over to the lounge or the bathroom or the exit, or a girl walking by with a tray of drinks or if a slot-machine was paying out. Anything at all, like they had no interest in the cards, fingering their cigarette packet. If they wanted to go out for a smoke why didnt they? Even when another player glanced at his watch, they looked at him doing it. Imagine looking at somebody looking at a watch. Was that not weird? What does that say about boredom? They wanted to be someplace else but here they were stuck in a casino, oh well, so they just had to sit at a table and gamble their money. Perhaps they were insomniacs. They only came because they couldnt sleep and were fed up with all-night television. Where else could they go? But did they have to go anywhere? Why didnt they stay at home and read a book? Or get on with the damn housework; they could do a wash or a pile of ironing. If people needed something to do Helen would give them the key to her door and they could go and do her ironing.

She didnt smile at the thought. But if she had. If she laughed aloud. They would all wonder about that. Some wouldnt like it. Dealers laughing. It wasnt encouraged. What were they laughing at? Weeks ago an elderly man caused a disturbance about this; he didnt like ‘croupiers laughing’! You fucking smug bastards! He shouted it across the floor. All because they were laughing. And they were only laughing about something silly. It was nothing to do with him losing his money, or about anybody losing their money. Croupiers dont laugh when people lose their money, not even the ones they dislike. Anyway, not openly. And if it was an okay subject to laugh about then laugh, but quietly. Dont make a fuss. People dont want a fuss, not unless it is a jackpot, everybody crowding round, then it is okay.