James Kelman - A Chancer

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.

Billy glanced at him. What you on about now?

Tammas shrugged. I’m telling you straight man.

Dont talk shite.

I’m no talking shite Billy.

Aye you are.

Naw I’m no man listen, see that fucking blue you missed? I’m no kidding ye, a five year old fucking wean could’ve potted it. Christ sake! I know everybody misses now and again but that was fucking ridiculous! And the pink was hanging too! Right over the middle bag man if you get the blue the game’s finished, finished.

Billy was nodding. Aye, it was a bad yin; I should never’ve missed it.

And it would’ve got us the dough too! And I mean. . Tammas grinned and shook his head: After that fucking brown! I mean that brown man! Christ! What a fucking shot! Length of the table man and you stopped the white dead! That’s one of the best pots you’ve ever done!

Billy nodded.

Position was perfect! Tammas stopped for a moment and felt behind his ear, and muttered: Thought I had a fucking dowp.

You smoked it.

Did I? Bastard! Tammas frowned and raised his right hand palm upwards and he gazed at the sky. It’s raining!

Naw it’s no — too cold; if it was going to rain it’d fucking snow.

That’s the fucking rain alright! Tammas shook his head, zipped his jerkin up to the top. Come on we’ll run.

Billy shrugged.

We’ll get soaked man!

Ah I cant be fucking bothered. I’m just walking.

Dont be daft! Tammas began trotting, a little way ahead he stopped and called: Come on ya cunt!

Nah! Cant be bothered.

Fuck sake Billy! Tammas turned, shaking his head, and he began to run, his head bowed as the rain started falling more heavily. Thirty or so yards on he slowed to look round once more; Billy was walking in a methodical manner, gazing at the pavement. Tammas continued running.

•••

He was dressed in his good suit and was wearing the shirt his sister had got him for Christmas. On his way out the bedroom he lifted two brown-paper packages from the cupboard. Margaret was in the kitchen, seated at the table, listening to the radio. When she glanced at the packages he said, Just a couple of things.

Presents?

Eh. .

A bit late surely?

He shrugged.

Anybody we know?

Eh. . no really Margaret. He paused, touched the collar of his shirt and smiled briefly: Ta.

She nodded. Will you be back?

Will I be back?

Tonight I mean. . Margaret sighed.

Aw, eh. .

Never mind.

Simpson’s Bar was quite busy. He carried his pint to a seat near a dominoes game in which McCann and Auld Roper were playing. Auld Roper pointed to the packages: What’s that?

Packages.

Are they presents or what?

Aye.

Hh! Bit late for fucking Santa Claus son are you no?

Tammas shrugged; he peered to see the value of the dominoes that Roper was holding. Play the 6.4, he said.

Shut up.

McCann called: D’you back that Border Rover this afternoon?

Did it win?

Aye — fucking 10 to 1 the bastard!

10 to 1!

Aye, I thought you’d have backed it! Especially after that last race you hit it for.

Ah! Tammas shook his head. He took the cigarette McCann was holding out to him.

Where you off to?

Tammas shrugged. Just going to see somebody.

Wee Betty?

Tammas looked at him. He drank a mouthful of beer.

Auld Roper laughed: Wee Betty! Is that the name of his girlfriend? Wee Betty! Eh? Fuck sake! I didnt know there was any lassies called that nowadays!

McCann winked at Tammas: Dont worry about this auld cunt he’s went senile!

He got a bus into town and cut through St Enoch Square for another. Upstairs he sat on the front seat, the packages on his lap. When the bus pulled out from the terminus he was the only passenger on the top deck and after a moment he went downstairs and said to the driver: You passing Baird Street?

The driver nodded.

Back upstairs he lighted a cigarette. He was staring out the front window until suddenly he recognised this part of the road and he jumped up, lifted the packages and went quickly down, but not in time for the driver, and he had to get off at the next stop after.

There was a small general store just before the corner of Baird Street. He bought a packet of cakes and some children’s sweets. Going into Vi’s close and up the stairs he paused to light a cigarette. He stood on the landing beneath the one where she lived and he gazed out the window into the backcourt for several moments.

He rang the doorbell. He flapped the letterbox. He rang the doorbell again. There was no reply. No sounds coming from inside. He bent to peer through the letterbox vent. It was pitchblack. Not a sign of light beneath the kitchen door. He stood for a time then banged the door again and rang the bell, and he flapped the letterbox. And the door across the landing opened noisily. A young woman, frowning at him. She switched on the light in her lobby, stared at him. Can I help you? she said.

What. .

Can I help you? Are you wanting something?

Eh. . He nodded at Vi’s door: I was wondering eh — what is she away out or what?

Who d’you mean? Vi?

Aye, d’you know where she is?

She continued staring at him but did not answer.

Eh, are you Cathy?

Do I know you?

You look after Vi’s wee girl.

She nodded and frowned again: Are you Thomas?

Aye. He smiled. Did she leave any kind of message?