James Kelman - A Chancer

Tammas gestured at Rab’s pint: Another yin?

Aye, you okay but? for the dough and that?

Tammas nodded. Then he grinned suddenly: Hey listen, guess where I met that lassie!

Rab smiled.

Naw I’m no kidding man. What d’you mean?

Naw, guess where I met her — just where I met her.

Guess where you met her?

Aye.

Rab shrugged.

The fucking track man!

What d’you mean Shawfield!

Naw for fuck sake Ayr, the horses.

Ayr?

Ayr Races, aye.

For fuck sake! Rab laughed loudly. You’re fucking crazy ya cunt!

Tammas laughed.

Around midnight they were in an Indian Restaurant. Rab had been staring at his half stuffed paratha and he noticed Tammas watching him. Naw, he said, it looks a wee bit greasy.

Come on man.

Naw eh. . You can have it.

Tammas glanced at Rab’s plate, the pile of food still lying on it. Aye, he said, you’ve got a lot to swallow right enough! Fucking give us it! He laughed and snatched the paratha half from the plate, dipped it into the curry boat and ate it in a couple of bites.

Naw I know. Rab nodded. He was poking at the rice on his plate with his fork. I just. . d’you ever think about it all man, the parathas and the chapatis and all that, piles and piles of it, all the curry I mean, all of it man. . Rab leaned forwards a little and he closed his eyes, pointing with his thumb to the side, to where three tables were positioned together, accommodating a party of fourteen people. Plates and bowls of all kinds of food were spread throughout and two waiters were handling a portable sort of oven on top of which lumps of chicken meat lay cooking.

Aw shut up for fuck sake, muttered Tammas.

It’s fucking getting to me but.

Cause you’re letting it.

I’m no fucking letting it.

Aye you are. . Tammas sniffed, wiped his mouth with a napkin and he swallowed some water; he lighted a cigarette and sat back on his chair. Best curry I’ve had for years! You having a coffee or what?

Rab reached for the water jug and refilled his own glass. He gulped a mouthful immediately. He wrinkled his nose. He cleared his throat and muttered, Naw but that poor cunt down the stair man; him that does the fucking dishes and the rest of it, having to scrape off all the fucking leftovers man, into a big fucking dustbin.

Aw Jesus Christ Rab. Tammas leaned to whisper: You fucking sound as if you’re trying to make yourself sick.

Naw. Naw, it’s no that. . Rab rubbed his forehead, just above his eyebrows, his eyelids were shut. He opened them and smiled slightly. Sometimes I get the horrors man. I dont even know what they are, just fucking — it’s the horrors man; I dont know, these big bins of grub man — imagine lying at the bottom of it, being fucking smothered, no being. .

Tammas had screeched back his chair on the floor and he coughed loudly, blew his nose on the napkin. He looked at Rab.

Rab was staring at the plateful of food he still had in front of himself, then he was gripping the edge of the table with both his hands, steadying himself a moment, before pushing himself upwards. The bill, he was saying, I need to get the bill. Fresh air man, fucking. . better get it quick, fresh air and that man. . He fumbled some £1 notes from his trouser pocket and he put them on the table. He turned sideways and he peered across at the party of folk at the three tables.

You alright? Tammas frowned.

Naw I’m fucking — all wrong man. The head, spinning like fuck so it is. Hurry up and. . Rab pointed at the money; he walked off at once, his hands at his sides, as though he was wiping his palms on his trousers. Some of the other customers in the restaurant were watching him. A waiter signalled to the man at the cashier’s desk but Tammas called: It’s okay. And he strode over to settle the bill.

Down on the pavement he found Rab supporting himself against the wall of the tenement building. You alright? he said.

Rab grunted in reply and he stuck his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders, pushing himself away from the wall. You’ll no fucking let us down now man. .

What?

You’ll no fucking let us down. Tammas, you’ll no fucking let us down. . Rab stood facing him, shoulders still hunched and his hands still inside his pockets.

Course I’ll no fucking let you down.

I’m talking about best man, letting us down. We’re fucking finshed if you do man, telling ye, that’ll be that. Rab shook his head and he started walking away.

What’re you yapping about? Tammas went after him. And when he caught up to him Rab put his arm out as though to ward him off. Tammas chuckled: What is that you going to start fucking boxing or what!

Rab kept his arm raised. I’ve known you for years man but we’re fucking finished, finished; and I’m no kidding ye.

Hey come on! Nobody’s letting you down.

I know you too fucking well man. Rab had started walking again and he almost bumped straight into a middle aged couple who had to stop and go sideways. Rab seemed not to notice. He was saying, I dont give a fuck about things like Blackpool but this is different, this is fucking different, it’s no a fucking holiday Tammas it’s no a fucking holiday.

Christ sake Rab.

I could get other cunts to do the job but I want you.

Christ Rab. . Tammas was shaking his head. Then he stepped forwards and grabbed him by the hand. I’m just fucking, I mean, just glad you asked me and that Christ it’s an honour, it’s a fucking honour man. I’ll no let you down either Christ I mean I wish you hadnt fucking said that Rab, you shouldnt’ve said that.

Naw Tammas I’ve got all sorts of mates; you know that, the team and the fucking work man I’ve got all sorts — it’s no that but, I mean, Christ.

Tammas nodded. I know. I know Rab. I know that.

Aye well.

I’m just fucking — it’s an honour.

They shook hands.

Honest.

Rab nodded.

Tammas let go his hand. He turned and cleared his throat, spat into the gutter, took out his cigarettes and lighted one, chipping the match out into the street. He glanced at Rab: Dont worry about it.

I’m no. . Rab shrugged. It doesnt matter. As they continued walking he said, You dont have to come to the Stag Night cause there’ll be plenty there anyway — the guys from the team and that; you dont have to bother man.

Naw but I want to come.

Aye but you dont have to, that’s all I’m saying.

I want to but.

Rab nodded. After several moments silence he said, And we’ll have the dress suits to get on the morning as well man that’s another thing.

Aye, no bother.

•••

The meter-bowl contained one 10 pence coin and he replaced it on the mantelpiece, going from there to another bowl on top of the display cabinet; it too was empty. He looked along the window sill and other parts of the room and then he went into the kitchen and searched there, but he found nothing. He returned to the living room and lifted the cup of coffee from the arm of the settee. On the floor, in the ashtray, were the dowps of four cigarettes. He picked one out. He straightened it, smoothing the tip and the fraction of unsmoked tobacco. His matches were on the floor. He struck one, angling his head to avoid the flame of the burning match; and he had it alight in two puffs. Another two puffs and it was finished. He straightened the other three, positioning them along the rim of the ashtray, swallowed down the remainder of the coffee and got up onto his feet, and he walked into the lobby. He stood at the door of Margaret and Robert’s bedroom; he clicked it open, moved his head to peer inside. The curtains were still closed but it was fairly bright, this room obtaining the sun for a good part of each morning. The bed was unmade. When he entered he kept the door open wide. On the dressing table a tidy assortment of articles belonging to Margaret, one a box with a cluttered pile of beads and necklaces; hanging from the top of one of the wardrobe doors a folded shirt and a striped tie, and other clothes over the back of the only chair in the room. Between the chair and the bed were a radio and cassette recorder plus a couple of paperback books and magazines. Tammas continued to stand not far from the door and then he went back out again, closing it behind himself, returning ben the living room. He smoked the largest of the three dowps. About quarter of an hour later he collected his good suit from the bedroom and folded it into a plastic bag.