James Kelman - A Chancer

Tch Tammas, wait a minute.

Nah.

Och come on for fuck sake! John was off the armchair and coming towards him with his hands raised palms upwards.

Naw. Tammas continued on down the lobby. I’ll see you later, he said and he opened the outside door and stepped out and closed it behind himself immediately.

•••

Two guys were sitting on the second bottom step of the flight up to the labour exchange, one held a bottle of wine and was wiping his lips when Tammas got out of the taxi. He paid the driver. They watched him as he approached, and continued watching him as he stepped roundabout, and on up into the place. He joined the queue at his box number, taking the newspaper from his side pocket and unfolding it.

When it came his turn to sign the clerk told him nothing had come through yet and asked if he wanted a B1 form for the social security office.

No, ta.

Along the street he met Brian McCann, a regular from Simpson’s who was heading down to the job centre. It was crowded inside. McCann went directly to the vacancy board while Tammas walked over to the thick, upholstered seats near one of the interviewer’s desks and he sat there reading the newspaper. McCann called him eventually and they left. On the pavement McCann muttered, Fuck all — unless you want to count Welwyn Garden City.

Hh. Tammas gave him a cigarette and paused to strike a match.

They’re wanting electricians but. McCann smiled briefly; he bent to take a light; he exhaled. Aye, I’ll tell the wife to pack this afternoon.

Tammas grinned. He stopped walking at the bus stop but McCann hesitated. Dont worry about it, said Tammas, patting his pocket.

McCann shrugged. He nipped his cigarette and stuck it behind his ear.

Tammas was pointing to one of the day’s runners on the racing page of the newspaper. That Mint Julep, he said, I fancy it quite strongly.

Mm, aye.

If I mind right it won a handicap up at Haydock a month or so ago, eh?

I think so. McCann nodded, looking up the road. He brought the half cigarette from behind his ear and gestured with it to Tammas who handed him the box of matches. Ta. . eh. . He sniffed: Eh Tammas, any chance of a pound till the weekend?

Aye Christ fuck here. Tammas got one out and gave him it. Course, dont be daft.

Naw it’s just for a packet of fags and that.

Christ. Tammas shook his head. Not at all man, hh, a pound! He inhaled deeply, looked back at the racing page. Naw, he said, I think I’ll leave them alone the day — maybe go to the pictures or something, stay out the road.

McCann chuckled. He cleared his throat and spat into the gutter. No seen Billy this morning?

Naw, I waited for him as well; must’ve slept in — unless he signed early or something.

They dont usually allow you to — fucking strict about things like that; in case you’ve got a casual or something.

Aw aye.

Which in his case is fucking right anyway! McCann laughed: Lucky wee bastard so he is, I wouldnt mind the chance of marking a board myself!

Trouble is he’s no lifted a full fucking wage since he started!

Tch, is he still punting? I told him to screw the fucking nut about that. I mean a job like he’s got! You’d just wind up working for nothing if you werent careful.

That’s what he’s doing. He’s no backed a winner for weeks.

Mad! McCann shook his head, he looked back up the road. There was a bus in sight. Come on we’ll walk, he said.

What?

Mon we’ll walk. .

Walk?

Aye. McCann upturned the collar of his jacket and set off without further comment.

Okay.

They walked steadily. After ten minutes a drizzle started and they quickened the pace. When they approached the corner of the street where Simpson’s was Tammas said, Fancy a pint?

Eh — I’ve to meet the wife at the Post Office.

You sure?

Aye.

Honest?

Aye. Fuck sake. McCann was frowning at him.

Naw I mean if it was just cause of the dough and that. .

Naw.

Tammas nodded.

McCann continued on by himself.

•••

I bumped into that girl earlier on.

What was that?

Margaret shook her head. You never told me you’d stopped seeing her.

Are you talking about Betty?

Well I didnt know you were seeing anybody else!

Mm. . Tammas looked away. His cigarette was lying smouldering in the ashtray; he puffed twice on it, before stubbing it out and swallowing what was left of his coffee. He returned his attention to the television.

I dont think it’s right.

He made no response.

Tammas, I dont think it’s right. Surely you could at least see her and tell her if you dont want to go out with her. I mean she was upset the girl, it’s no fair.

Margaret, God sake.

Well you dont treat people like that.

He turned his face to her: Like what? I’ve no done anything.

Tch! You walked away and left her standing in the middle of the street.

Did she tell you that?

Yes, who else? you never say a word.

Tammas sniffed.

Did you?

What?

Just leave her? in the middle of Renfield Street?

Look Margaret I mean what is this at all. . He resumed watching the television.

After several seconds she said: Well will you at least see her?

He nodded slightly.

Really?

I was going to anyway.

Were you?

Margaret, God sake.

Well if Robert had ever treated me like that!

Like what? I mean Margaret. . He groaned and got up off the settee. Shaking his head he grabbed his cigarettes and matches from the coffee-table and he frowned at her while passing on his way ben the room.

•••

In Simpson’s bar Auld Roper was scowling at McCann. That’s us having to avoid a granny! he said, A granny!

Ach stop your moaning for fuck sake. Shuffle the doms. Anyhow ya silly auld cunt ye, if you hadnt hung on to that double blank we wouldnt fucking be in this fucking position. McCann glared at him and raised his pint glass to his mouth, sipped at the lager. He glanced at Tammas and winked: Eh? Want to swop mates?

Ho!

It’s they auld yins, laughed Billy, they never fucking learn!

Never fucking learn! What you fucking yapping about? Auld Roper shook his head: The luck yous two are carrying! Jesus Christ Almighty I wish yous’d fucking fill in my coupon — eh! Lucky pair of. .! He sniffed and reached for his tumbler.

Skill, said Tammas.

Skill! Skill! That’s a bloody good yin right enough. Eh McCann? D’you hear him? Skill for fuck sake! He wouldnt know what skill was if it jumped up and punched him one on the fucking chin!

The other three laughed.

Come on, shuffle the doms!

It’s your turn, replied McCann.

Auld Roper turned to him: I’m going for a fucking pish — if it’s alright with you that is. . And he moved his chair backwards, rising with the aid of his stick. Tammas also got up and went to the bar to order a round. The argument had resumed by the time he carried the pints across. Auld Roper had also returned; he grinned at him and pointed at McCann. He’s away in the fucking cream puff! Imagine that? At his time of life.

My time of life! Ya auld cunt, what you blethering about!

The elderly man shook his head; he leaned back the way to put his hand into his side pocket and bring out his cigarettes. He took one out, lighted it, put the packet away again. McCann was frowning at him. So generous, he said, so fucking generous.

Well what am I supposed to do! Hand them round the bloody pub!

I’m just after buying you a pint! said Tammas.

Auld Roper looked at him. I said thank you. . His gaze was on the dominoes he had lifted; he was sorting through them, the cigarette in his mouth, his eyelids blinking occasionally to avoid the smoke. Then he muttered, This is a terrible hand this. Ah well McCann, prepare yourself for a granny, we’ve no chance!