A Chancer (8 page)

The man was saying: Naw, I dont give a fucking monkey’s; it’s wrong. He strode into the smoke-area and sat down facing Ralphie and Tammas. His mate followed him,
propped the brush he was carrying against the wall. How’s it going?

Ralphie shrugged. Tammas did not reply.

The first man frowned at them. You heard?

Heard what?

Heard what! The man frowned again and he gestured vaguely around . . . These fucking bastards in here. Fucking O.T. man!

O.T.?

Aye fucking O.T. man! They’re fucking working O.T. man and we’re fucking . . . bastards! He turned and he pointed at a guy who was standing by a machine some distance away. Him and
all the rest of the cunts up here.

Heh, said his mate, reaching to him and patting his arm. Take it easy.

Aye no fucking wonder. Make you fucking sick man we’re about to get laid off man and these cunts’re steaming into the fucking O.T.

Ralphie nodded.

The second man said: Did you know?

Put it this way Fred, I’m no surprised.

Hh! He glanced at Tammas: Did you know and all?

Who me – naw, did I fuck, I never knew . . . Tammas turned to Ralphie.

Different department. The older man shrugged: This wing’s nothing to do with us, no when it really comes down to it.

What! The first man gazed at him. What did you say!

I said it’s a different department. Here. It’s fucking different, it’s different from us. He took the pipe from his mouth and he pointed it at the man: Can you work any of
their machines?

Course I cant work any of their fucking machines.

The second man glanced at him: Ralphie means cause it’s a different machine man, you cant work it . . . He shook his head. Even if they wanted to let you man you couldnt fucking work
it.

I know. So what!

Well, fuck sake.

Look I dont give a fucking monkey’s man it’s out of order. I’ve never heard of anything like this in my fucking puff. Treat you like fucking shite in this place and you all
fucking stand back and let them man – fucking . . . He stopped and shook his head.

Come off it, muttered Ralphie.

Well it’s the same fucking factory.

I know it’s the same factory.

Aye well you trying to tell me should fucking stand back and watch them steaming into the fucking O.T. when we’re getting fucking laid off!

Nobody’s getting laid off.

Yet, added the second man.

Ralphie glanced at him. He had the pipe back in his mouth and he sucked on it. He struck a match and began relighting the tobacco. But he blew out the flame and took the pipe back out of his
mouth. He dropped a mouthful of spit onto the floor, wiped his boot heel over it. Then he sniffed and stood up. He said to Tammas: Time we were going eh.

Aye. As he followed Ralphie out the smoke-area he called to the other two, See yous later.

They walked in silence to the corner of this wing. There was another stores’ section here and they were assisting the storeman clear old stuff away to create space. Some ten minutes later
the other two men could be seen leaving the smoke-area. Tammas paused with the box he was passing to Ralphie and he said: I can see his point but.

Good for you son. The older man took the box from him and turned to lay it on the platform.

Tammas had reddened. After a moment he walked away. He went to the nearby toilet and sat in one of the cubicles.

Back in the stores Ralphie was starting on another stack of boxes. Tammas joined him at it without speaking. Eventually Ralphie said, Another two and we’ll call it a day.

Tammas made no answer.

Then by the time we get over to our bit . . . Ralphie shrugged.

Tammas nodded slightly.

•••

The room was in darkness. He lay there with his eyelids shut. Footsteps down the lobby, from the bathroom to the front room, and the door being opened and closed. He squinted at
the alarm clock. It had stopped, it was not ticking. Pulling off the quilt he swung round his legs and sat for a moment; he was wearing jeans and a shirt and had his socks on. He got up, he
stretched, standing on his tip-toes and thrusting out his chest, making a groaning sound. And he walked to the window, drew the curtains enough to peer out. It was still raining, the actual drops
of water visible as they fell within range of the glow of light from the street lamps. A man was walking from one pavement to the other and his voice was audible, as if he was calling to someone in
Tammas’s close. But he was not doing that, he was singing to himself as he walked.

•••

The foreman looked at him when he entered the office.

About Friday afternoon, said Tammas; okay if I get it off? I saw the chargehand at tea-break and he says to ask you.

What is it for?

I’m going away for the weekend.

So am I. So’s a lot of folk. It’s always the same at this time of year.

Tammas sniffed and stared at him.

What is it you want the afternoon for?

Well the bus, it leaves at half three.

Half three?

Aye. And I’ll need to get home and changed and that.

The foreman paused. Then he went on. You shouldnt have got fixed onto a bus that’s leaving when you’re supposed to be at your place of work. I mean that’s daft; it’s
silly. Christ, if everybody did that we’d be as well shutting down on bloody Thursday night!

Tammas nodded.

A carry on so it is. The foreman looked at him. You had Monday off this week as it is.

I had diarrhoea.

I know you had diarrhoea.

I phoned in.

I know, we’re grateful.

Tammas glanced at the floor. Look, he said, I’m going with a few of my mates; it was them made the arrangements.

I’m no denying that. I just think you should’ve made sure it wasnt going to interfere with your job. I mean some things are bloody more important than holidays.

Tammas nodded.

Away you go . . . The foreman returned his attention to the things on his desk.

•••

The door had opened. He sat up. And rubbed his eyes when the light came on. Margaret was saying: Somebody at the door.

What?

Billy. I thought you came ben here to read?

I fell asleep.

No wonder, with the light out! Margaret was smiling.

Tammas nodded. He yawned.

Stepping outside his room Margaret called: Come on in and get him Billy.

The footsteps and then Billy was at the door, grinning.

Tammas pulled his shoes out from under the bed, slipped them on and quickly knotted the laces. He grabbed his jerkin from the back of the chair and ushered Billy out into the lobby. When the
outside door was shut and they were walking downstairs Billy said: What you doing in bed at fucking 9 o’clock at night! Then he laughed: Dont tell me ya dirty bastard ye.

Shut up ya cunt. Tammas punched him on the shoulder. That’s my fucking social life you’re slagging!

Billy laughed. Naw, he said, I was expecting you in a while ago man.

Hh!

We could’ve gone for a game of snooker.

Tammas stopped. You kidding?

Naw, Christ – too late now.

What did you no come up and get me for! Fuck sake Billy.

Tch aye, I should’ve.

Tammas looked at him and shook his head. I mean I take it you’ve got fucking dough?

Aye. Billy shrugged: I won a couple of quid.

Fuck sake!

Alright alright.

No wonder man. I said I was fucking sorry.

Aye I know but . . . Hh! They continued on down the stairs and out through the close, heading towards
Simpson’s.

•••

At dinner time on Friday he redeemed his suit on the road home from work. He met the others in the pub as arranged, the parcel under his arm. John failed to appear. Donnie was
saying: I knew it, the cunt’s been too miserable to take the afternoon off.

As long as he makes the bus, said Billy.

Ha ha ha! Rab said: I hope he fucking misses it!

Ah give the boy a break, said Donnie.

Ach!

Who’s sleeping with him anyway?

Tammas.

Aw thanks a lot!

The other three laughed.

I didnt even think you were listening! Anyhow . . . Donnie chuckled: You dont have to worry; with five of us it’ll mean he can sleep by himself.

Unless it’s three to one room and two to the other.

Aye you never know right enough.

Billy smiled. It’s alright, I’ll sleep with him.

We can toss for it, replied Donnie.

Naw, said Rab, let him if he wants!

He’s no that fucking bad.

You kidding! You wouldnt know which way to turn with the cunt!

That right? Donnie cried: In that case I’ll fucking sleep with him!

The bus was scheduled to leave Buchanan Street Station at 6.55 pm and they were to meet back in the pub for 5 o’clock. From there they would be taking a taxi to another
pub closeby the depot; any latecomer was to go there directly. When Donnie and Rab left to get a bus home the other two strolled along to the betting shop. Billy borrowed a £1 from him. Just
for an interest, he said with a grin.

What’re you skint!

I didnt want to take any chances man I left the dough in the house.

Fair enough, said Tammas. He gazed up at the formpage tacked onto the wall then he moved along to the next one. The runners for the 2.30 were being loaded into the stalls. He wrote out his
selection and strode to the counter. Billy was in front of him. During the race commentary they stood listening by a radiator. An outsider won. Billy laughed and tore up his receipt, That’s
what I get for backing the favourite for a paltry pound!

Tammas nodded.

Mind you, he added and indicated the form, it could’ve been backed.

Aye. Right enough . . . Tammas grinned: Funny how you always fucking spot things like that after the result.

Cheeky bastard! Billy turned from the wall, putting his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders. You coming?

Nah, think I’ll hang on for the next. What about yourself?

Naw man you kidding! Anyhow, if I wanted to stand in a betting shop all day I’d’ve went to my fucking work.

Ha ha.

Actually I think I’ll get the fucking head down man I’m a bit tired.

Okay.

Heh . . . Billy grinned. Watch yourself!

Aye.

When the next race was coming under orders he was standing gazing at the previous day’s tote returns and he had to run to the counter, he scribbled a bet on the favourite. At the furlong
marker it moved up to challenge but its effort was always being held by the eventual 20/1 winner. He walked out of there and went to the shop two blocks away. The coming race was for 2 year olds
and almost half of the field was unraced; minutes before the off one entered the betting at 12/1 and was quickly marked down through all rates to 6/1. He hesitated, strode to another formpage. It
went to 5/1 and he scribbled the bet and raced to the counter, taking the price.

The horse led till the distance; then it was passed, it finished unplaced.

His shoulders ached. He flexed them while leaving the premises. He crossed to the newsagent’s and bought a packet of cigarettes though he still had quite a few in the packet in his jerkin
pocket. He checked his money. Back in the bookmaker’s he studied form. Half an hour later he was walking home. Margaret frowned when he came into the living room. She said: You better get a
move on.

Ah I’m no bothering Margaret.

You’re no bothering?

Nah. He sat down and looked at the television.

Margaret said nothing.

No, he said, I really, I just eh, I dont think I’d be that keen on Blackpool anyway.

But Tammas, you’ve paid your fare down. And your bed & breakfast – I thought you had paid that as well.

No it all, naw, just part of it.

Still . . . That’s money down the drain.

He nodded. She had turned her head back to face the television but after a moment she made to resume speaking. He stood up and yawned: Think I’ll lie down for an hour.

Margaret looked at him.

All I’m doing in the factory these days is walking about; its more tiring.

You’ll be here yourself for the three days.

Fine.

She shook her head: I think you’re silly. Did you have an argument with somebody?

Naw no really.

She shook her head again, shifted on the chair.

He was standing at the corner opposite where the convoy of buses would leave. People were already filing aboard or having their luggage loaded into the rear compartments by
the drivers. Ten minutes from time and still they had not appeared, then he saw them. They came from Buchanan Street, running across Sauchiehall Street, suitcases and holdall bags swinging and both
Rab and Donnie were carrying large carry-out bags. John and Billy were first aboard. The bus driver was chatting to Rab and then with Donnie the three of them stepped away from the rear and began
to look this way and that way but finally they stepped up inside the bus. A few minutes later the first of the convoy moved out from the stance. Tammas edged a little farther back down the lane and
he turned aside while their bus passed.

•••

Next morning it was dry and once Margaret and her husband had gone he searched the house. He found a pile of coppers amounting to 17 pence. The meter-bowl was empty. Gathering
his new suit from the wardrobe he went out and pawned it in a different broker’s. He collected a
Sporting Life
on the way home, studied form until early afternoon. His nap for the day
was going in the third race at one of the flat meetings. In the betting shop he glanced at the other newspaper formpages on the wall, reading the stable news and any sort of racing gossip. The
first race was about due off. The shows of betting had been coming through for some time. He glanced back at his own newspaper then made out a bet for the favourite, laying on what he had. It
finished fourth.

He watched the boardman wiping out the old price quotations, tearing down the runners’ list and replacing it with the next. Three or four guys hovered near the pay-out window. He did not
know any of them. A show of betting came for the next race. He walked to the door. Upstairs in the house he switched on the television for the televised racing, seeing his nap win at 5/2 and
hearing the commentators recall how it had won and why it had been well fancied to do so. And the owner being interviewed briefly, receiving a trophy. He turned channels. Motorbikes were racing
over bumpy countryside. He switched it off altogether and went ben the kitchen and put on a kettle of water to boil; then he switched off the oven ring. He went to his room, undressed and got into
bed, then got back up again and drew over the curtains. He dozed eventually.