James Kelman - A Chancer

He started walking quickly then began to trot, attempting to land each foot on the ground as flatly possible, his left arm swinging freely while his right hand gripped the cigarette packet in the pocket of his jerkin, and he was making a groaning noise which was gradually becoming louder till it changed into a continual grunt of Ya bastard Ya bastard Ya bastard Ya bastard, each Ya bastard simultaneous with his foot hitting the ground. Another twenty minutes and he was thudding into his own close and leaning against the wall, his forehead resting upon his right forearm, his breathing harsh, a raking screeching sound.

After a time he pushed himself away from the wall, bending half over and placing his hands on his knees, taking longer, more controlled breaths. Down the middle of the concrete floor was one long wet patch where folk had passed on their way up the close. His eyelids shut. There was a throbbing at his right temple. He raised his hand and kept it there, feeling the bone at the side of his skull. He covered his eyes with both hands and straightened, turning side on to rest his shoulders against the wall, his hands dropping. Eventually, stepping nearer the closemouth, he cleared his throat and sucked in a breath of air, before blowing a mouthful of catarrh towards the street. And he brought out his cigarettes and withdrew a whole one and smoked it there.

•••

An old guy who was needing a shave was sitting on the floor with his back against a radiator, his legs splayed open. Tammas looked away as he passed on along the corridor and into the ward where his grandmother was. She was asleep, seated on an armchair by a window with a blanket tucked about her legs. There was another old woman in the next bed and she was awake and watching him although she seemed to be lying in an awkward position, as if she had been propped to sit upright and then toppled sideways. Hullo, he said and when she made no answer he turned from her and lifted a chair out from a stack, placing it carefully about three yards from his grandmother, in such a fashion that his view out the window was unrestricted. Across the way was the Nurses’ Home and occasionally nurses did appear, normally in twos and wearing capes, their arms linked and chatting together, walking quite fast. Layers of grey clouds in the sky. His grandmother was looking at him. He smiled. Hullo grannie. How you doing, you okay?

I’m fine.

He nodded. She was still looking at him and he smiled. No as cold now as it was. .

She gestured at the mobile cabinet near to the top of her bed; there was a jug of water on it.

D’you want a drink?

Yes. She was pointing to the cabinet drawer and he reached over to pull it out. Some plastic cups were inside. He poured her water into one and gave it to her and she took it in both hands; she glanced towards the ward door before sipping.

I’m maybe going up to Peterhead to work, he said. There’s no anything doing here at all except for maybe a job in a factory I could get. But I’d rather be out in the open air. . He grinned.

She sipped at the water again and made a slurping noise.

And are you eating your food alright?

No. . She smiled, shaking her head.

Margaret was saying it’s better now — because that wee highland nurse is back and giving them all what for!

His grandmother smiled.

From the next bed the old woman called: Hullo.

Hullo. He smiled.

She pointed at his grandmother and asked, Is she a relation?

Mm. She’s my grandmother.

That’s nice.

Tammas nodded and looked back to his grandmother who was sipping at the water but moving her left hand at him; wanting him to take the water from her now, holding the cup towards him. He put it back onto the cabinet. She placed her hands in her lap and raised her eyebrows. He smiled.

And are you married? the other old woman said.

No, hh!

Have you got a girlfriend?

Tammas smiled at her and then at his grandmother who was watching him.

Tch! The old woman shook her fist at him, chuckling. Then she added, She’s your grannie? That’s nice.

Aye. He said to his grandmother: Mrs Brady was asking for you.

O.

She was saying she’ll take a trip out to see you when the better weather comes in. Her legs are no very good either.

His grandmother nodded. She shifted slightly, looked towards the ward door. Another visitor was coming in, an elderly man with a bunch of flowers. And a woman followed, going to a different bedside, holding a couple of shopping bags and breathing noticeably, as if she had been hurrying.

Have I seen you before? asked the old woman in the next bed.

Tammas smiled. I’m no sure; it’s usually my sister that comes.

O.

Aye, Margaret, you’ve probably seen her.

O.

She usually comes a couple of times a week.

O, that’s nice.

Tammas nodded. His grandmother was still gazing towards the door. Outside two nurses had appeared from beneath the window, arms linked and heading across the grounds in the direction of the Home. One of them was smoking a cigarette and looked a bit like Betty from the back.

•••

He joined the queue at his signing on box but when he reached the counter the clerk told him he would have to go to the inquiries desk because he was nearly half an hour late. Three benches were in use here and he had to squeeze in on the end of the third, next to a woman of about 30 who was fidgeting with a handful of documents. She was smoking and chewing and smelled strongly of perfume and every so often she nibbled on the skin at the corners of her right thumbnail. When she finished the cigarette she dropped it to the floor but did not stub it out and she lighted a fresh one immediately. The other one smouldered where it had landed. She returned the lighter and cigarette packet into her handbag then put in the documents as well, and withdrew a paperback book, flipped through its pages. Soon she was engrossed in reading, the smoke from the cigarette drifting straight into Tammas’s face.

The next in line was called to the desk and slowly the queue edged along each bench until Tammas was able to move. A man squeezed in next to him. He was middle aged, wearing a camel coloured overcoat. A minute or so passed, and he said to Tammas, Excuse me eh do they take a while here? I’ve actually got an appointment and I was wondering if they let you go to the front — if you’ve got a real you know, a real reason, if you actually do have an appointment.

Tammas cleared his throat before saying quietly, Naw.

O, I see. The man smiled: It’s like that is it! He opened his coat and brought a Glasgow Herald out of an inside pocket and, turning to the backpage, folded it at the television section. On the other side the woman was opening her handbag again; she took out a tube of a sort of medicinal sweet, unwrapped one and put it into her mouth, snapped shut the handbag. Tammas had his UB40 in the back pocket of his jeans and he manoeuvred it out, began to read it. It was more than half an hour before his turn came.

Outside rain drizzled. He strode along to the top of the street and crossed at once, not waiting for the lights to change, having to dodge past traffic. Just as he reached the opposite pavement his name was shouted: it was McCann — waving to him, coming from the direction of the job centre. And he shouted again: Hey Tammas!

He waited.

McCann was smiling when he arrived. How you doing? stranger! Where you been hiding?

Tammas shrugged.

Billy was wondering and all — he was down the job centre earlier on. What’re you chucked drinking or what!

Naw, just — fucking skint man!

Aw, aw aye, aye, I know the problem!

Any smokes?

Hh! And as they began walking McCann added, I was through every fucking pocket in the house there before I left — nothing! no even a fucking dowp! And that wife of mine, Christ Almighty, she’s started planking the fucking purse!