James Kelman - A Chancer

Vi frowned.

Naw, honest, if it wasnt for that. Definitely I mean. . he shrugged.

Vi glared and slapped him on the chest. You’re no getting away with that! she said. I’m going to get you your trousers!

Tammas laughed.

Mummy! called Kirsty

It’s okay pet it’s okay, I’m getting up in a wee minute!

Tammas waved to her: It’s okay Kirsty! He stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray and leaned to place it on the floor. And he put his arm round Vi. The two of them lay back down again, her head on his chest. Kirsty was standing up, holding onto the top of the frame and gazing across at them. Tammas winked at her and she frowned, and after a moment she bounced along on the mattress and lifted a toy from the other end. Tammas had increased the pressure of his arm round Vi and she looked up at him. He smiled. And she said, What is it?

Nothing.

Nothing?

Aye, nothing.

Mm. It’s a funny nothing.

He sniffed and shrugged, then suddenly frowned and glanced sideways, he frowned again.

What is it now?

Eh nothing, naw. . Hh. Christ! He grinned and shook his head.

What is it?

Naw, it’s just — I could actually just go myself. To Peterhead I mean.

Mm.

He grinned. I dont actually need anybody to go with Christ I mean I can just bloody go myself.

You’ve said that.

Hh! He chuckled. Ah! He gazed at the ceiling: Ya beauty! Ya beauty! Then he clenched his right fist and began punching the air and grunting: Pow pow pow, pow pow pow.

Both Kirsty and Vi were watching him. Vi was smiling.

Look Vi, would you really consider coming with me? I mean really — once I’d got settled in and that, once I’d got a place?

Would I consider it?

Aye.

She nodded.

You would consider it?

Aye, okay.

Honest?

Honest — aye, okay.

Christ.

I’m just saying I’d consider it but Tammas, that’s all I’m saying, I would consider it.

Aye, Christ. . he grinned and kissed her on the forehead.

•••

£65 was left in the bank account. He withdrew twenty one of it and stopped in at the newsagent to buy 20 cigarettes; there was a spare Sporting Life on the counter. When he returned upstairs Robert was still in the house, sitting reading a book in the living room. Tammas made a pot of tea and took him ben a cupful. Thanks, he said, barely glancing away from his page.

Tammas nodded. Through in his own room he spread the Life across the bed. He had just lighted a cigarette when Robert could be heard coming out and down the lobby, and chapping the door: Hey Tammas! Can I come in a minute?

Aye.

He remained in the doorway with his hand on the door handle. Naw, he said, just to tell you, that fellow McCann, he was up at the weekend there.

Tammas did not answer.

Saturday it was, just after teatime.

Tammas dragged on the cigarette. He had been lying on his side and now he sat up and swivelled to tap ash into the ashtray on top of the cupboard, facing away from his brother-in-law. And his brother-in-law was yawning and saying, You still thinking in terms of Peterhead?

Aye. Tammas sniffed; he cleared his throat while turning to look at him. Maybe next week; I’m no sure.

Good, good for you; I really think you’re doing the right thing. That’s eh. . I was wanting to say, just that I mean this room and that, it’s yours, if the job maybe doesnt work out, you know, it’s here for you, it’ll be here for you — when you come back and that I mean you knew that anyway I hope.

Aye, thanks.

Well God sake it’s your room! Robert grinned. We’ll no take in any lodgers, it’s alright!

Tammas smiled, he inhaled on the fag and flicked ash over into the ashtray again. Robert was smiling too. Then he glanced at his wristwatch and shook his head: Soon be time soon be time!

Backshift eh!

Aye, tch — I even prefer nightshift! Robert raised his eyebrows and grinned, his hand still on the doorhandle. He indicated the Life : Still punting the horses!

Aye.

By the way! That was a good score for Hull! Three nothing?

Aye, great.

Probably Rab got the hat-trick!

Aye. Tammas smiled, dragged on the cigarette and exhaled, and he said: Even if he was just playing but — in the first team.

Aye. Robert nodded. You’re no kidding. Anyway — see you later eh! He closed over the door, clicking it shut.

Tammas glanced at the door for a moment and then at the window, and to the cupboard. The alarm clock was not going. He wound it up and set it to the time on his watch, and got up and walked to the wardrobe. He opened it, gazed inside and to the bottom, at his boots. The cigarette was in his mouth and he withdrew it without inhaling, drawing the knuckle of his right forefinger across the corners of his mouth. He went to the window, seeing the close opposite where two old men were standing chatting just out from the entrance; one of them with his hand on the other’s elbow, his head tilted, listening; he looked to be laughing. Both of them wearing bunnets and overcoats and the one doing the laughing wearing a tartan scarf. And now a woman appeared from the close, bare arms folded and peering from left to right along the street, the men remarking something to her and her shake of the head, returning back inside.

He sniffed and moved back to the bed, shifted the newspaper, making space to lie stretched fully out, crossing his feet at the ankles, left hand behind his head. Then he raised himself up a bit and got his tea from the top of the cupboard; it was lukewarm and he swallowed it down. He manoeuvered the money out of his pocket, the four £5s. They were crumpled and he smoothed them out and placed them flatly, next to the alarm clock. He got up and returned to the window but then came back again and sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the Life and turned to the results from Saturday. The dog he had napped at Shawfield had won at 2/1. 2/1 was a good price and it would have been worthwhile making the journey for it alone. In that morning’s Daily Record they had forecast 5/1 but Tammas had known it would never have been that — 2/1 was much more like it. Although of course if he had of made the journey it would probably have got beat. Nothing surer. That was the way things happened. There again, he had been skint on Saturday and the bank was shut. That was one of the inconveniences about banks — just like if you needed dough and it was after 3.30 in the afternoon. Or if you had left the bankbook in the house by mistake.

Some ash fell onto the page and as he made to lift it it rolled onto the bedclothes.

Monday was nearly always a bad day for betting; generally speaking the racecards were second-rate efforts — a bit like the opening race at a greyhound meeting, a time for looking on and taking notes, not for getting the money down. But it was still possible to back a winner. He continued studying the form till approaching half past one. He found two horses he fancied quite strongly and a third which had a reasonable chance. But nothing worthy of going nap on. It was probably a day to go to the pictures.

On his way out he made a piece on jam and he ate it while walking downstairs and along the street to the betting shop. He knew the boardman and they exchanged hullos. The boardman was eating a sandwich and drinking tea and he offered Tammas a mouthful. Naw, no thanks. Tammas said, Auld Phil no in the day?

Naw. He was in on Saturday.

Tammas nodded, strolled to a wall to read a formpage. It was from the Sporting Life and he had read it many times already. He was going to stick to the three he had selected upstairs, and back them in 3 x £1 doubles and a £1 treble, and also back the two he fancied strongly in singles. He had £20 and £4 away left £16 — unless he paid tax in advance. Sometimes he did and other times not. It just depended on the dough he had in his pocket, on whether the sum was round or not. And £16 was round; it gave eight on each single, or less, if he wanted to keep a couple of bob for a pint later on. There again, it might have been worthwhile considering doing single bets on all three. That meant £15 would be round, three bets at a fiver each. One thing was sure, if he backed two out the three the only winner would be the third, the one he did not back. Plus of course if he only backed the third the other two would win. That was why it was usually best to get the one, to select the nap and stick to it, and if it lost there was always tomorrow. But none of the three was worthy of the nap. Maybe it was best just doing the doubles and the trebles and leaving the singles alone altogether — do the 3 x £1s and the £1 treble, and just go up the town to the pictures.