Mo said she was quirky (26 page)

A young man came with her. He never smiled either. So their relationship, you wondered about that. Although they hadnt been in for a while. That was so like typical. People disappeared. Sometimes you didnt notice. They were regulars and then stopped coming. The only way you realised this is
because there came a time you looked up and there they were, sitting right in front of you. Then you were surprised because it was the first you had seen them in ages. Weeks and weeks. You hadnt seen them. You didnt even know they were not there until now you saw them. Where had they been? You hadnt noticed they were gone till now they were back. Imagine not noticing. People’s lives; they have them and dont have them. They live and die, we dont even notice. Had they gone to another casino or what? were they taking a rest? had they lost too much money? But this couldnt apply to the East European woman. She hardly gambled at all, too busy noting people’s behaviour, and the young guy with her, like a male escort. You said hullo and they didnt even smile. Was that peculiar? Perhaps not. Perhaps it was Helen who was peculiar. Of course, yes, little Miss Peculiar. She sounded like a packet of sweeties, boiled ones, the kind old ladies like to sook.

Oh well, she dealt the cards, that was her, the dealer, the one who dealt, she ‘crouped’, croupiers crouping and dealers dealing. She should have been a smoker, smokers smoking, they had these wee breaks in the alley round the back of the casino. A rear passageway ran the length of the building. Steps led down to the rear exit. Staff smokers used this; they went in twos and threes. In the old days the ‘girls’ took their ‘clients’ here. Druggies used it too, tramps and rats, drunks; people went there to be sick. It was dark and secluded, shadowy and horrible; who would want to go there? except in emergency. Nowadays it was still secluded, but security had been increased; good lighting and CCTV. But still not a nice place, having to step over bodies, watching where they put their feet; needles and human waste. It wasnt the first time a croupier had returned across the carpet in the worst poo-covered shoes imaginable. People never knew what they might find. There were the comical aspects; couples interrupted in ‘acts of gross
indecency’. What the Smoker Saw, not the ‘Butler’. Experiences from the back alley provided some of the ‘green room’ hilarity. Anyway, people quite envied the smokers. They said that, escaping to the fresh air, it was worth the bad lungs and whatever else. As long as they went in company, not just the one person.

The ‘girls’ werent supposed to use the casinos nowadays. Did they or didnt they? Ha ha.

But if they did they werent cheap. They would never have gone to back alleys. It would have been good-class hotels or someplace nice, fancy apartments with all good furniture and proper everything, space and whatnot, bedrooms. Not like out the back where it was full of risk and filth and dangers too. Women never went on their own.

Why did he laugh? The ogler laughed. He laughed because he had won. Helen paused a moment while paying out the money. Not only him, everybody. The bank had taken a card, and another, a picture card: bust. So Helen was paying out the money.

But for the third hand in a row. The bank had lost the two previous. Yes, so that made the difference. To them it did. So they had beat the bank three times in a row. And Helen was the bank. Okay, but why laugh like that? Not only the ogler but the rest of them, sharing it with him; beating her, they wanted to beat her. It was sad, so sad.

Such was her job.

Did they actually for one minute believe she cared one way or the other? like really cared?

‘Wealthy woman’ too – she had returned to the table – perhaps her jewellery would fall off, perhaps somebody would step on it and break it, just crunch it like a whatever, under the heel of your shoe. But then it wouldnt be the genuine article, if it could be so easily crunched, and hers was real. Her man
was back at the roulette. She only came to keep him company. Not to let him out her sight. Or him her. Comical. Males and females. Rich or poor.

What did it matter?

Helen had passed out the chips. People confused her with the job, that was the problem like it was her personal money, if it was did they think she would be gambling it all away? Ha ha. It didnt matter one way or the other. Not to her it didnt; not if she lost every hand. Or if she won every hand, although she would have enjoyed taking his money; that would have been nice, and if he waited a little longer she would, because in the end the bank always wins. What a fool.

So things were getting to her.

No they werent.

The ogler was whispering to his friend. It wasnt annoying but

It was annoying. It shouldnt have been but it was. So she was letting him get to her. She should never have let him get to her. No emotion in this job. You werent paid for emotion.

Helen smiled to the ogler and his mate. Yes.

She was waiting for the bets to be placed. An elderly man had sat down at the corner of the table. He seemed familiar. She waited for him and another player to place their bets. The ogler had left his winning chips from the last hand, so that was his. At the same time impressing her with the size of his bet, trying to anyway. Always the size of something. Him and his money. So silly, so childish, but that was a trait in men. Helen, what is the outstanding trait in men? They are childish.

That would annoy him, smiling, why had she smiled?

What if she giggled? If she laughed aloud? That would annoy him even worse. Did his wife know how much he wasted in this place? He was obviously married. Even without the ring he was married. He had like arrogance, that certain arrogance.
He
knew
women. That is what it was. Did his wife even know where he was? Probably not. He would control everything. Even what she
knew
, what went on in her mind. That is what he would control, never mind the money. That was her ex my God oh yes, Mr Big Boss, he was the man, of course he was, arent penises wonderful? She could have carried one in her bag, dropped it on the table.

Goodness,

the card the card the card, the card the card the card, the card, seven players, and one for the bank.

the card the card the card, the card the card the card, the card

The ogler’s mate was whispering to him. He wasnt so bad-looking; only the scar, the front of his ear down to his neck. That summed it up.

stay, stay

Card, asked the ogler. He was showing 12.

Helen turned a picture to bust him, raked in his chips and continued the hand. And to the banker’s own she added an 8 to the face card showing, raked in the remainder of the chips, in a disinterested way. No comment from the ogler. She enjoyed taking his money. But did she? Perhaps she didnt, perhaps really it didnt matter, it didnt. She didnt care.

‘Wealthy woman’ passed money across and Helen exchanged it for chips. Usually with couples it was the other way about. The male played cards for pounds and the female roulette for pence. It was the competition. You could like beat somebody up at cards, but not roulette. At cards you showed who was boss. So they thought. But they thought wrong; blackjack and house-poker are the same, you bet against the ‘house’, not against people.

She rarely thought about money when dealing cards. If she did it would be all the time. She hardly saw it as money. She
was an experienced worker. She listened to other croupiers but had her own opinions. She was a dealing machine and that was that. There would come a day when they wouldnt have any croupiers, it would all be machines. Already in the States they had entire casinos with machines. To each their own. The punters put in their money and hit a button. Money money money. Standing at the machines with that glazed expression, buckets of coins and buckets of popcorn; unable to hear or see, mindless. That was her ex, the proverbial.

All the people and all the money.

And up pops he. The bad penny.

Money money money. Mostly she didnt care. She had no control, like none, she had none. None! What did they think? In one casino where she worked an Inspector thought it was the dealer’s fault. That was how he acted, just so so stupid. If he saw you losing too many hands he whispered sarcastic comments, the same as any punter, thinking individual dealers were lucky, or unlucky. Even some dealers believed it about themselves, they were lucky, or unlucky. Anyway, it was all mixed up. If your every hand was a losing hand it was lucky for the punters; to be lucky for them was to be unlucky at the cards. Lucky at the cards was lucky for the house. Back in Glasgow there was one guy only played at her table because she was ‘far too good’. He said it to her when giving over his money: Helen, you are far too good, you are far too good.

So why come to her table? Was that not silly? just foolish. Helen, you are slick. Of course Helen was ‘slick’; it was her job to be ‘slick’. You take my money why do you take my money? Silly man.

Concentration concentration. She looked up from the baize. Her eyelids flickered. Waves in her tummy, slight little things, butterflies.

Nothing about the time forget the time, nothing nothing
nothing, the cards the people the money; what was the order? it didnt matter the order, people money cards, oglers.

Nerves, because Brian, what if he was there?

Oh God the time the time what was the time?

Oh well, if he was he was.

But it was true and she had to think because what was she going to do! It was nearly time and she was going home; she would be. Very soon; very very soon, that would be her, my God, if she shared Danny’s taxi, like just as usual. Because with Caroline and Jill like if she
didnt
share with them, what would they think? They would think something. Better they didnt. Better she went home with them, same as usual, got off at her street same as usual, then when Danny’s taxi was out of sight she would jump the next one back into the city. She had enough money, she had brought enough.

Helen knew what she was doing. She had thought about what she was doing. The whole damn day.

But she did know. Because there was a good chance they would be in the same area, roughly speaking, at roughly the same time. People are people, creatures of habit, him with the limp and the tall skinny one, and if it was, imagine it was. Although it was unlikely. But you never know, because with Brian, Brian was Brian.

Taxis were so so expensive; going home then back was like a return so twice the money my God it was like half a night’s work to pay for it, a third. It was just so much. She would have to tell Mo. There was no choice because it wasnt fair if it was house-money, extra for this and extra for that on top of the debt my God two taxis was like a day out for the three of them it was so – indulgent.

Although if she
had
to do it. So it was not ‘indulgent’, not if she had to. If it was Brian. She would never forgive herself and like Mo too, if she told him. And she would tell him, whether
she found Brian or not, he would have to know because if he didnt oh God that would be so bad of her. It would be. Because not taking him into her confidence like not trusting him and she did trust him, above all, she trusted him.

It was true! She trusted Mo, she really really did. He was her family, so if it was Brian. If it was Brian it was Brian.

She closed her eyes, rubbed at the side of her face. Why did people not go home? And Helen too, if only

only only, only the lonely,

a card a card a card,

So if he
was
ill. Perhaps he was. He had been a good big brother to her. If it
was
him.
If
it was. Only she had to know. She at least would say hullo. So if he was homeless. Poor Brian. None of it mattered, bloody oglers and nonsense.

What time was it?

Hi … came the whisper. The relief Inspector had moved in behind Helen’s chair as she dealt. Felix, quite a tough-looking guy. Her knight in shining armour! She knew he liked her. At least he wasnt creepy. And his lips. Some lips she didnt like. He leaned closer: Okay?

Yes. Helen smiled.

The ogler and his mate had gone. When had they gone? If management wanted to stop the ogling they would give the girls different-style dresses, higher necklines to begin with. Roll-neck collars. Scarves and overcoats.

Perhaps Felix had a word in his ear; whatever. She hadnt noticed him leave. Things happen. People come people go. A young man was in his seat. Helen smiled and he smiled back. A hand later she bought two 10s to bust so now everybody was smiling. What a wonderful world. It put people off if you always won.

She paid out the winning bets. ‘Wealthy woman’ reached for hers then gathered in all of her chips. Her man had beckoned!
He had, he had finished with the roulette and was signalling her. Dance to your daddy. ‘Wealthy woman’ rose from the table.

Helen smothered a yawn. The relief Inspector had moved to another table. Across the floor she saw Caroline walking. Thank God.

On the next round the marker appeared; she collected the discards to begin the shuffling process. But Rob was there, her relief croupier. He winked. He was only young. She felt like hugging him. She really did. Not because he was nice, although he was, but too young, it was just that she

she was glad. What about? She didnt know, like a break, that was all, she needed a break, like from everything, just everything. She had no illusions. What about?

Anything; anything and nothing.

She smiled and was tired.

Jill had gone on ahead to pacify the grumpy male. Although what difference did it make to Danny the driver? If it was a contract hire. They were waiting on Caroline who was still in front of the mirror, still fixing her hair, having her ‘last sip’ of tea and yapping about her two sons. Nothing changes. Actually it was relaxing. Even the gossipy nosiness, Helen quite liked it. Except she went on and on and people were waiting. Helen glanced at her watch again, checking the time by the clock on the wall.

Caroline noticed: Sorry sorry, she said.

Helen was about to speak, she smiled instead. One ‘sorry’ would have been ‘sorry’, two meant she wasnt really.