James Kelman - Mo said she was quirky

Yes. Helen smiled.

The ogler and his mate had gone. When had they gone? If management wanted to stop the ogling they would give the girls different-style dresses, higher necklines to begin with. Roll-neck collars. Scarves and overcoats.

Perhaps Felix had a word in his ear; whatever. She hadnt noticed him leave. Things happen. People come people go. A young man was in his seat. Helen smiled and he smiled back. A hand later she bought two 10s to bust so now everybody was smiling. What a wonderful world. It put people off if you always won.

She paid out the winning bets. ‘Wealthy woman’ reached for hers then gathered in all of her chips. Her man had beckoned! He had, he had finished with the roulette and was signalling her. Dance to your daddy. ‘Wealthy woman’ rose from the table.

Helen smothered a yawn. The relief Inspector had moved to another table. Across the floor she saw Caroline walking. Thank God.

On the next round the marker appeared; she collected the discards to begin the shuffling process. But Rob was there, her relief croupier. He winked. He was only young. She felt like hugging him. She really did. Not because he was nice, although he was, but too young, it was just that she

she was glad. What about? She didnt know, like a break, that was all, she needed a break, like from everything, just everything. She had no illusions. What about?

Anything; anything and nothing.

She smiled and was tired.

Jill had gone on ahead to pacify the grumpy male. Although what difference did it make to Danny the driver? If it was a contract hire. They were waiting on Caroline who was still in front of the mirror, still fixing her hair, having her ‘last sip’ of tea and yapping about her two sons. Nothing changes. Actually it was relaxing. Even the gossipy nosiness, Helen quite liked it. Except she went on and on and people were waiting. Helen glanced at her watch again, checking the time by the clock on the wall.

Caroline noticed: Sorry sorry, she said.

Helen was about to speak, she smiled instead. One ‘sorry’ would have been ‘sorry’, two meant she wasnt really.

That’s me now, said Caroline, making to get up from the chair, but instead she peered at her telephone; was she going to text somebody? and another ‘last sip’ of tea. Why, why did she do that? She knew people were waiting on her but still she did it.

Why have a last cup of tea at all? Although Helen could have done with one herself, except there was no time. Plenty time but no time. Was that life? That was life. Hers anyway. Caroline could but Helen couldnt, or wouldnt. Workmates are friends too. If a friend doesnt want you doing something then you shouldnt do it, not if they dont want you to, if it is a friend. What else is a friend? You watch out for friends, you make allowances.

The door had opened and Jill appeared, and Jill was a friend. She didnt have to speak.

Caroline poked her tongue out at her, making fun of the situation. Jill smiled slightly and retreated. Caroline said, Denny’s been waiting for ten minyoots — in a vague imitation of Jill’s voice — then added, I think she’s annoyed at me.

Caroline had returned her attention to the mirror but now she had the telephone in her hand again. Comical and sad. Helen didnt feel anything, annoyed or what, nothing. She lifted her bag from the table, buttoning her coat.

Outside she walked to the cab. She gave Jill a wave. Danny was standing chatting to the driver of another cab. He saw Helen but didnt acknowledge her. Too cool. That was a thing with guys like him, how they were so cool, they were just like so cool.

The other driver was Nicky. He was okay. There were times his gaze lingered. Not only was he fifty years of age he had a bald head and a stupid moustache; father of four, still wanting to look. Look but dont touch. It would have been funny if it wasnt so

what?

God, what did it matter? Cheery … Sometimes anyway, that sort of male stupidity, it cheered her up. It was like the real world, coming after the casino, that coldness, there was a coldness . She wasnt always so sensitive to it but tonight she had been. She didnt blame people, it was just something, an overall — some feeling she had, she couldnt describe it, you cant always, Helen couldnt. Sophie once complained about her skin being too tight . Oh Mum, and stroking her arms when she spoke, she said her body was bursting, the skin was too tight for it and it needed more, more skin . What did that mean? It was a while ago she said it. But what did it mean? These things children say, they mean something and you cant work it out. A pure physical thing. Uncomfortable in your skin.

Then stories. Azizah read to Sophie the last thing at night, and some went on and on forever the way Sophie spoke about them, and they were like scary too; some were; people getting their heads chopped up into little pieces, chased into deep valleys by elephants and boa-constrictors; they were more like boys’ stories, but Sophie liked them. Children were an alien species. Of course the stories were exciting but they had to get to sleep. So if Azizah started the story too late. No wonder she was tired in the morning. It explained things too about her concentration, how she got so involved in things, and didnt hear you talking; she just seemed to switch off from listening. People did that. When things got tough how else could you cope?

Oh God.

But it was true. You had to survive. So you had to switch off. You did. It was sophisticated too, behaviour, sophisticated behaviour, for her age, really, quite mature

Helen was shivering, rocking from one foot to the other, so that was skin, that was flesh, flesh and bones and everything. It wasnt that cold either, not temperature-wise, but she really was shivering, she was, like nerves, nervy she was nervy, she was, very very nervy; this shivering, she couldnt stop, so so just oh God, she felt so

folding her arms; no wonder just no wonder.

Oh well, she had to. Had to what? Relax, if she could. She could, she had to, she had to just like be ready . Because things

Across the road a queue formed at the taxi-rank. This time of the morning people were still going and coming, mostly from clubbing, sitting in all-night restaurants or wherever else people went — casinos. Why did they go out in the first place? Some would have had nice houses, gardens and kitchens, and a proper bathroom where you had an actual bath, imagine a bath, like being able to relax and just lie . Imagine being in the bath and a magazine and hot chocolate, that was you and your day-off, last thing at night and Sophie asleep and you were there in the house and able to just — if you ran the bath, relaxing and nothing at all, not even anything to think about

Oh God stupidity.

There were others just hanging around the way people did up west; guys you didnt want to know, looking at you in that way they did.

Three girls passed, wearing hardly a stitch and talking in loud voices; teens. They must have been freezing. Just looking at them made Helen feel old. How long since she had been one of them? Never.

Not true. But why were they so loud!

Helen enjoyed clubbing. She used to anyway. Not nowadays, not so much, all the bodies, all close up and breathing over you, people out their mind, beer-soaked breath and cigarette smells, and these big guys, just like big guys ; forget zombies, although some of them my God that is what they were, zombies, then if they slipped you something.

Nicky’s taxi had gone. Danny was standing by the door of his, hands in pockets and whistling a wee tune, acting like he didnt care. Helen whispered to Jill, I know where she’ll be, she’ll be having a smoke.

Jill didnt respond.

She’ll have come by the back door exit and round the alley.