James Kelman - A Chancer

Aye.

Mrs McCorquodale had turned to Rena’s mum: Me and his grannie were good friends.

Rena and Betty were standing across at the glass cabinet. Rena was holding a can of beer and pointing at it. Tammas said, Eh I’ll see you in a minute Mrs McCorquodale, I’m just eh. . He stepped over her feet and made his way round between the settee and the fireplace, gesturing to Uncle Gus as he passed: Just going for a can of beer. .

Right you are son. Uncle Gus winked at him, indicating the one he was holding. And he patted the top pocket of his jacket; some cigars were standing upright inside: You want one of these?

Aye I’ll eh just get a drink and that. .

No bother. Heh you! he said to a young woman seated behind the company on a dining chair. It’s your turn for a song! Come on! On your feet!

Hh! She looked away, grinned at a man who was standing nearby. The man raised his eyebrows, tilted his head and swallowed a mouthful of beer.

Tammas laid his tumbler on the cabinet and took Rena by the sides of her arms and kissed her briefly on the mouth. Congratulations, he said.

Thanks Tammas. And thanks for coming. And thanks as well for the records. They’re great; we’re playing them all the time.

Ah!

No, honest, they’re terrific! She kissed him on the cheek then raised her hand suddenly: The ring! You’ve no even seen it yet! My ring — Betty! He’s no even seen it yet!

Betty laughed.

Tammas smiled. He stared at the ring for several seconds. Aye, he said, it’s a beauty right enough. Sparkling stones eh!

Rena nodded.

It really is beautiful, said Betty.

Rena made a face and murmured, Cost a fortune! I told him not to. Men!

Tammas grinned.

How come you were so late? asked Betty.

Buses.

O.

Tammas pulled out the ring-opener on the can and he swigged a mouthful of beer.

Tch! Rena gave him a glass. While he poured the beer into it Rena said, Tammas, would you do me a favour? would you go ben the kitchen and get Rab away from his dad.

Tammas groaned.

Honestly, the two of them have been in there for ages. I dont want them fighting Tammas, not the night.

Aye, Christ.

Rena sighed. She glanced generally at the others in the room and whispered: They need livening up. Maybe get them dancing or something. Rab should be here.

Tammas nodded. The other people in the room were now talking in different groupings, or sitting in silence. Uncle Gus was chatting to the elderly woman next to the fire. Tammas nodded to Rena, he lifted the bottle of vodka from the floor and he chuckled: I’ll take this with me!

Mr McCorquodale was seated on a high stool at the breakfast counter. He was speaking, using his whisky tumbler to emphasise a point. Rab stood quite close to him, his head inclined as he listened, a beer can in one hand and the other in his trouser pocket. Tammas! he cried.

Well well well, said Mr McCorquodale.

Better late than never! Tammas grinned, walking forwards and shaking hands with the man. He nodded to Rab: Well done.

What d’you mean well done!

Getting engaged and all that!

Aw aye.

Mr McCorquodale was gazing at Tammas and he reached out to shake hands with him once more. So how’s life on the broo? he asked, and he maintained the grip on Tammas’ right hand, firmly but without increasing the pressure.

So so, the usual — want a vodka?

A vodka! Mr McCorquodale frowned, staring at it; he relinquished the grip. It’s no bloody Hogmanay son, you didnt need to bring your own bloody drink.

Aw eh. . it was just. . No want one?

Vodka? Naw no me Tammas — Scotland’s own, Scotland’s own. . He lifted the bottle of whisky from the side of the breakfast bar. Come on, you have one with me instead of that Russian stuff.

I’d rather no mix it Mr McCorquodale.

Ah come on for God sake son you’re the bloody guest remember!

Da. . Rab said: Leave him alone eh?

What d’you mean? And anyway, you shouldnt be drinking at all, you’re in training. Mr McCorquodale gestured at him while saying to Tammas: This yin isnt to get anything, cause he’s in training.

Rab laughed briefly. Look at him! Totally blotto, can hardly sit straight on the stool and he’s trying to lecture me about training. Training by fuck!

Heh you less of that language if you dont mind, you’ve got a mother ben the room.

Awful sorry pater.

It’s no pater son it’s pahter. Should’ve sent you to a fucking fenian school; at least they’d have taught you latin! Mr McCorquodale uncapped the whisky bottle, poured himself a drink. He glanced at Tammas: So how’s life on the broo then Tammas?

Da you’ve asked him that already — Christ sake!

Tammas grinned. Rab — Rena says will you go ben the living room.

Did she?

Aye, I think she wants you to liven up the proceedings or something.

Rab frowned then shrugged. I’ll sing them a song.

Aye, you better do something son! Mr McCorqudale raised the tumbler to his mouth and sipped at the whisky.

Rab stared at him for a few moments then he sniffed and said to Tammas, I’ll see you in a minute.

When the door closed Tammas was breaking the cellophane on a new packet of cigarettes and soon he was smoking, putting the matches back into his side jacket pocket. Mr McCorquodale was watching him. And he asked, So how’s it going son? How’s life on the broo treating you?

Ah no bad, no bad.

A bit daft chucking your job but eh? I mean when you didnt have one to go to. Would it no have been better making sure there were going to be redundancies first?

Eh, I suppose so, right enough. . Tammas smiled, sipped vodka, inhaled on the cigarette.

Strikes me that’d have been more sensible. Course I’m aware — your age — sense doesnt always come into it! Mr McCorquodale was smiling.

Tammas nodded. Terrible job but. Really boring.

I thought the wages were alright though — according to Rab anyway I mean that’s what he told me.

No bad.

Mind you, I like a boy with the philosophical approach — when in doubt jump on the broo! Mr McCorquodale laughed, drank the remainder of the whisky and reached for the bottle. Tammas glanced at the door. The sound of fast music and a few thumps from dancing feet could be heard. And then a voice, probably Uncle Gus, singing very loudly, Chicago.

Mr McCorquodale was pouring whisky into Tammas’s tumbler; a fair amount of vodka had still been in it. He poured one for himself, the neck of the bottle balancing against the rim of the glass. Did Rab tell you about the offer? The offer son, did he tell you?

Eh, naw, what’s that?

An offer, he’s had an offer. Hull City.

Christ sake!

He never told you?

Naw. Christ, that’s tremendous!

Mr McCorquodale nodded. He sniffed. Aye, he said, they’re wanting him down as soon as possible.

Great news.

Mr McCorquodale nodded. Know what he says to them? I’ll think about it. I’ll think about it! God sake, you think he’d jump at something like that!

Aye. Hh. I dont know. Tammas shrugged. Maybe it isnt a good offer or something.

Isnt a good offer? You dont even know what the bloody offer is son so how do you know!

After a slight pause Tammas said, Naw, I’m just saying. Just thinking — about Rab I mean you know, the way he might see it.

The way he might see it! Mr McCorquodale smiled, shaking his head.

Well I mean. . Tammas paused, he shrugged, swallowed a mouthful of the alcohol in his tumbler and coughed, spluttering a little. He inhaled on his cigarette immediately.

Mr McCorquodale was looking at him. Course, you’re no really a player but Tammas, are you. I mean I’m no being cheeky or anything. I dont want to hurt your bloody feelings! Mr McCorquodale smiled. What I’m saying is this but; if you dont know the ins and outs then how d’you know what’s a good offer and what’s a bad offer? You cant, no really — no that I can see. I mean he doesnt either. Rab! What does he know, he doesnt know fuck all hardly. I mean he might be able to play the bloody game but what does that go for I mean he doesnt bloody know about the other side of it.