A Chancer

Aside from the low droning noise it was quiet in this section of the factory. In the smoke-area around a dozen men were sitting at a big wooden table, involved in a game of solo. Only four were players but the rest gave it their full attention, each positioned so that he could watch the cards of at least one of them. Although voices were seldom raised quite a bit of laughter occurred, controlled laughter, barely audible beyond the smoke-area. One of the players was a man in late middle age by the name of Ralphie. He wore a bunnet and smoked a pipe. While he was tapping a fresh shot of tobacco into the pipebowl somebody told him to hurry up and get a move on, it was his shout. Ralphie nodded then nudged the youth sitting slightly behind him. This was Tammas; he lifted the cards immediately and sorted them out. You’re going a big yin, he said.

Ralphie grinned and exhaled smoke from the corner of his mouth. He took the cards back.

You cant get beat, said Tammas, you’re a certainty.

Ralphie laughed at his three opponents. Yous mob better be listening to this boy of mine’s, he says I’m a certainty!

A few jeers in answer and then the game continued. About an hour on came the sound of somebody whistling loudly and the solo halted. The cards were covered by sheets of newspaper, the men sitting back on the benches. A couple of them rose, yawning and stretching. And the foreman appeared from behind a large machine; he entered the smoke-area carrying a cardboard box under his left arm. Missed yous again! He smiled: Never mind but, one of these days, one of these days.

He took the lid off the box, began issuing each person present with a wage packet. Once he had replaced the lid and was turning to leave a man called: Any news yet?

Nah, not a whisper. . And without further comment the foreman walked out of the smoke-area, the box tucked beneath his arm.

Some of the men had their wage packets open and were checking the contents. Others had thrust them straight into their pockets without breaking the seal. And a general conversation started. Almost at once one of the former solo school rose from his seat and walked a couple of paces towards the exit. He was shaking his head. No use kidding yourselves, he muttered, if that bloody order’s no in now it’ll never be in.

The rest of the men were looking at him.

I’m talking about redundancies, he said, that’s what I’m talking about. And yous better get bloody used to the idea.

One of the men shrugged: Ach well, we knew it was coming.

That’s as maybe but they should’ve gave us notice. Formal. It’s no as if they’ve told us anything. I mean all we’re doing’s fucking guessing and we shouldnt have to be fucking guessing!

Aye but they might no know for sure yet.

Hh! the man frowned then shook his head. He left the smoke-area. A silence followed. An elderly guy coughed and cleared his throat, dropped a mouthful of catarrh onto the concrete floor; he stroked at it carefully with the heel of his boot, at the same time withdrawing a cigarette packet from the bib pocket of his dungarees. Somebody else leaned to lift the newspaper sheets from the top of the table, gathered up the cards and began shuffling them briskly. Come on we’ll finish the game! he said. Eh? might as well.

A spectator volunteered for the vacant playing spot but most of the others who had been watching seemed to have lost interest. And within ten minutes the game ended.

As the solo players got up to leave a couple of former spectators returned and some others were bringing out their wage packets once more. Ralphie took the pipe from his mouth and grunted, Yous and your fucking pontoons!

He was answered with jeers and a younger man lunged at him as though trying to knock off his bunnet. Ralphie dodged past, laughing.

Small piles of coins now lined the table and a man was shuffling the cards very thoroughly and now cutting them and cutting them again, and offering them to the guy sitting next to him so they could be cut yet again. And he dealt the cards, one to each person in the company. First jack takes the bank, he called.

Pontoons began. At the outset the stakes were restricted to a 50 pence maximum but the man holding the bank was also holding the initiative in this. Eventually the limit was raised to £1. Later it was scrapped altogether. The deal was now being held by the youth named Tammas. And as he shuffled the cards he shouted, Hey Ralphie — come on and post for me eh!

The older man had been sitting near to the exit in conversation with a couple of folk. He squinted across then grunted something and got onto his feet, rubbing at the small of his back and making groaning noises. He muttered, I hate this fucking pontoons. The sight of all that money flying about. Goes to my fucking head so it does!

A player laughed: You’re just feart to open your wages ya auld cunt!

Others laughed. Ralphie glared at the man. You trying to say I’m henpecked or something? Aye well you’re fucking right I am!

Tammas held out the cards for the former banker to cut. He said to the other players, Will yous space yourselves out a bit eh!

There was a bit of muttering in response. One of them grunted: Always the same when he gets the fucking deal. We’ve all got to change about just for his convenience.

Aye! Cause I like to watch what you’re fucking doing with these cards!

Ralphie laughed.

One of the other men cried, It’s that auld cunt you should be watching Tammas, no fucking us!

Tammas grinned while beginning to deal.

By 7.30 am most of the non-players, including Ralphie, had gone from the smoke-area to the washroom to get ready for clocking out. Some of the dayshift had arrived already. Two of them were involved in the pontoon game although not having received their wages yet their stakes were minimal. The bank had been won and lost many times since the start, and now it had landed back with Tammas. Within five minutes only two men were left in against him. The other had gone to prepare for going home while the two dayshift workers had lost their money and were now spectating. The first cards had been dealt and Tammas was lighting a cigarette while the bets were being made. One man put down £1 and the other put down £5. Then the second cards were dealt and the bank won both bets. The guy who had gambled the £5 shook his head and stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking. He glanced at the other player and frowned, shaking his head again.

From outside the smoke-area somebody shouted: That’s the two-minute!

What. . The man who had lost the £1 bet cried: Jesus Christ! and grabbed his money from the table; he paused to call: See yous on Monday!

Tammas glanced across at the remaining player. Time we were moving as well Murdie eh?

Aye okay, make the next yin the last.

Tammas nodded, he dealt the cards. Seconds later the dayshift chargehand came striding into the smoke-area and raising his right arm he jerked his thumb: Okay — out!

Last hand, muttered Murdie.

Last hand nothing, you’ll get me fucking arrested.

The two dayshift men who had been spectating moved away from the table and the chargehand looked at the money lying between the players: it amounted to £20. He snorted and shook his head: I dont fucking believe this, yous pair must be crazy!

Last hand, said Tammas, surely we can play it out.

Naw, can you fuck.

Murdie sniffed, then he glanced round at him. Come on man eh? Give us a break.

The chargehand was silent for a couple of moments. Then he muttered, Stick that fucking dough out of sight. . And he turned and walked out of the smoke-area. The two dayshift men had gone before him.

When they had taken the money off the table Murdie lifted his two cards, and asked for a twist, he was dealt a 10. He threw down the cards.

Tammas collected them in silence, left them on the centre of the table. He came out from behind the table and sat down on the bench next to Murdie, bending to take his shoes out from beneath it. He unknotted the laces on his boots, exchanged them for the shoes. Murdie had been doing likewise; now he paused a moment, and he said: Fancy a last hand?

Tammas looked at him.

Eh?

It’s a waste of time man your luck’s right out. Anyway, I’m still waiting for the twenty quid.

You’re getting the twenty quid. Dont worry about it.

I’m no.

Murdie paused. Come on, he said, last hand.

Naw, no point.

No point! What d’you mean no point? the fucking money I’ve lost the night!

Tammas inhaled twice on his cigarette, the last deeply, and he laid it on the floor and ground it out beneath the sole of his shoe.

Okay, said Murdie, a cut. One cut — double or clear.

Naw.

Come on a cut, just one cut.

Christ sake Murdie.

Murdie was about to say something in reply but stopped. The dayshift teaboy had entered and was sitting noisily down on the edge of the bench near to the exit. He grinned over at them: Yous still here yet!

Naw, said Murdie, we’re some fucking place else.

The chargie’s standing down at the gaffer’s office.

Murdie glanced at Tammas: Come on eh? one cut, double or clear.

After a moment Tammas shrugged. And Murdie nodded; and he reached for the cards from the table and he passed them to Tammas: It’s still your deal.

Tammas shuffled quickly.

Plus a tenner, Murdie added.

Plus a tenner?

Aye. . double or clear, plus a tenner.

Fuck sake.

Aw come on Tammas I’m losing a fortune, a fortune, no kidding ye.

Tammas shook his head but he shuffled again, and held the pack towards him. Murdie took it and cut immediately; showing a 3; and when Tammas cut an 8 to win his eyelids flickered shut and he made a sound which resembled a chuckle. The teaboy had been watching it all and now he took a step closer, and he said: Was that for thirty pound?

Neither answered. Tammas was already up from his seat and lifting down his jerkin from one of the nails on the wooden board attached to the wall above the table. And he also lifted the jacket hanging next to it and gave it to Murdie. They left the smoke-area together, walking the length of the section without speaking. Most of the machines were now in operation. At one of the silent ones a man was wiping down a flat bit with a paraffin soaked rag; he glanced at the two and laughed: Did yous sleep in!

They ignored him. They continued on to the timecard board and they clocked out without appearing to glance in the direction of the gaffer’s office where the chargehand was standing; he had a cigarette in his mouth, he inhaled and took it out of his mouth, blowing smoke towards the floor. On through the doorway they walked down the sloping corridor, down into the yard and across to the big gate at the works’ entrance. They passed out by the window of the timekeeper’s office.

When they reached the street they slowed then halted on the pavement. Murdie made as if to speak but he sniffed instead, he stayed silent. A group of primary schoolchildren and three women was approaching. Once they had gone he sniffed again, before saying: I’ve not got the full thirty Tammas.

Aw Christ.

I thought I did have.

Tammas turned away.

Okay if I owe you it?

What d’you mean the full thirty?

Murdie nodded.

Aw for fuck sake man.

Honest Tammas I just. .

Tammas turned away from him, he strode down towards the main road. A bus was standing at the traffic lights. He broke into a run for the nearest bus stop.

•••

One of Betty’s wee brothers answered the door and shouted back inside: It’s him! Come in Mister.

Tammas followed him along the lobby into the front room. The other brother and Betty’s two younger sisters grinned at him then stared back at the television. The first boy rushed in and then back out again, and he was shouting: He’s got a wee box of chocolates with him. Hey Betty, he’s got a wee box of chocolates with him.

The younger sister turned round to say, She’s ben the room doing herself up.

He nodded.

She takes ages.

Will I take her in the chocolates? asked the boy.

Ha ha, said Tammas. And then you eat them!

Naw I wouldnt.

Aye you would, said the girl.

Naw I wouldnt.

I’ll give her them myself, said Tammas. He brought out a packet of cigarettes and he lighted one. The older girl suddenly rose from the settee and switched channels, and sat down immediately, gazing at the screen. Tammas got an ashtray from the top of a glass display cabinet and he drew over a dining chair to sit on; then the sound of the first boy running along the lobby floor and in he came.

She says she’s just coming Mister.

Ta.

The boy grinned and stood where he was for a few moments, before walking to the edge of the settee and bouncing down on it next to the girls. The older one cried: William!

He jumped off, laughing, and sat down on the floor. The other girl and boy were also laughing and they turned to look at Tammas who shook his head and smiled. He put his hand in his trouser pocket and took out some loose change which he held out to the older boy. Here son, he said, away and get a couple of bottles of ginger and some packets of crisps.

The boy grinned with his mouth shut tightly and he made a face at the younger sister when he stood up from the settee. Once he had left the room the first boy jumped up from the floor and said: Can I go with him Mister?

Okay.

The boy laughed and rushed out after the other one. The outside door banged shut soon after. Minutes later Betty entered; she walked to behind the settee and placed her hand on the back of it. What’s on? she asked.

The older girl replied, Nothing. That film was rubbish.

Anything coming on after?

The girl shrugged; the other one made no response at all. But then the two of them glanced quickly at each other, they were grinning. Betty turned and said to Tammas, Coming ben?

When they were outside in the lobby she closed the door and whispered, Listen Tammas I’m awful sorry but I’ve got to stay in the night and babysit.

Aw.

My mammy and daddy asked if I would and I said aye — they’ve no been out for ages. But I thought it would be alright. We can go in the bedroom; the record player’s in there. . She looked at him.

Och that’s fine Betty.

Are you sure?

Aye, it’s fine. Here. He gave her the chocolates and she leaned to him, they kissed briefly.

An electric fire was on in the bedroom and the record player sat on a chair beside it; a selection of LP’s were on the bed and the floor, and Betty put one to play. When the music started she turned to him and they kissed until the outside door banged open and shut. The footsteps down the lobby was followed by voices coming back the way and then the bedroom door opened.

Tammas dropped his hands immediately. It was the two boys. Betty cried: Dont come barging in here without chapping!

The older one held up the two bottles and the other one was carrying the crisps. Tammas nodded. Away ben and share it out, he said.

You no wanting any?

Naw.

What about you Betty?

No, just go through.

When the door was shut he smiled at her and moved nearer. They were standing beside the electric fire and soon they had to move away; they sat down together on the edge of the bed, arms round each other’s waist. Betty said, Are you sure you dont mind staying in?

Naw, honest. He kissed her on the cheek. She leaned her head on his shoulder and he moved to kiss her on the lips; they remained kissing for a while.

Someone was tapping on the door. Betty moved slightly but they continued to kiss. The tapping became louder. It was Tammas who broke away. That’s the door, he said.

God sake. . She walked to the door and jerked it open.

William knocked over his ginger! cried the youngest girl. It was on top of the mantelpiece and he was reaching up!

Betty made no answer. She continued standing there for several seconds. Then she turned and said, I’ll be back in a minute Tammas.

When the door was shut she could be heard asking if the tumbler had smashed.

There was a travelling clock on the dressing table. Nearly 8 pm. He got up from the bed, walked to the window, pulled the curtains aside to see out and down the three storeys to the street below. It was now dusk, rain drizzling. He closed the curtains. He looked at himself in the mirror of the wardrobe door, patted his hair down. In the ashtray his cigarette had burned away and the grey ash was about threequarters of an inch in length. He took two drags on it before stubbing it out.

By the time Betty returned another LP was playing and he was sitting on the bed browsing through the sleevenotes on the various covers. I’m really sorry Tammas. She said, It’s that wee bugger William. I ended up having to put him to his bed. He’s a bloody pain so he is.

Mm.

You never get any peace in this house at all.

Tammas nodded. He opened his cigarette packet and lighted one. Betty shook her head: You dont know how lucky you are. Sometimes I feel like running away. Just packing my bags and going away, going away from here altogether.

She sat down beside him and he put his arm round her shoulders. And she continued speaking: I’ve got an Auntie lives in England. She was up in the summer for a visit and she was telling me there was plenty of jobs down there if I ever felt like trying it.

Hh, whereabouts?

Torquay.

Is that no just seasonal work?

No, all the year round.

I never knew that, I thought it was just hotels.

No.

They were silent for a short while. Tammas leaned across to nip his cigarette into the ashtray, leaving the remainder on the side to be smoked later. He grinned: Did the tumbler smash right enough?

It was a china cup! Mammy’ll kill him. . She smiled, put her hand to her mouth and bit at the corner of her thumbnail. She smiled again and added. What like were you when you were a boy?

Terrible.

Honest?

What! Terrible! No kidding ye Betty!

I dont believe you.

I was — ask my sister!

Well I will!

Good! Tammas grinned at her and inclined his head to kiss her on the lips.

She moved away quite soon and she said, It was their fault anyhow because they shouldnt’ve let him take one of the china cups.

He nodded.

•••

The runners were at the post for the 2.15 at Lingfield. He was standing gazing up at the names of the horses listed on the board. The latest betting show had just come through the speaker and the elderly boardman was still marking up the price changes. Then Donnie appeared in the doorway. He rushed straight over and grabbed Tammas by the elbow, kicking the holdall bag that stood between his feet. Come on ya bastard!

Hang on a minute.

No time man come on they’re nearly fucking away. . Donnie bent and lifted the bag and pushed him on the other side of the shoulder. Tammas glared at him and strode off to the counter, scribbled out a bet and passed it beneath the grille to the cashier who returned him the receipt when he had paid across the money.

Donnie was holding the door open. They raced along to the subway station, in time to see the others disappear round a corner beyond the ticket office.

Down at the platform a subway was in and they clattered aboard just before the gates shut. The rest of the team was sitting along at the top end of the compartment. Following Donnie down Tammas sat next to him on the side away from the others. Donnie was pointing him out to the man in charge of the team and saying, This is the guy I was telling you about, plays in the midfield, or wherever.

The man glanced along at him and so did some of the team members. He took out a cigarette and lighted it, he gazed at the floor while exhaling smoke.

Forty minutes later they were at the park and having to rush into the dressing rooms to get changed. The opposing team passed them on their way out.

When Donnie had his strip on he began fixing an elastic bandage round his left knee and he whispered, I’ll see him in a minute.

Tammas nodded. He was sitting on the bench with the team stockings and the pants on but had yet to be thrown a jersey. He reached into his jerkin pocket for the cigarette packet, but left it there.

Soon most of the team had gone. Donnie came back. The man in charge was walking towards the exit. Donnie muttered, You’ve to go sub man sorry.

Aw fuck.

Donnie was silent for a moment. It’s your own fault; he chose the team at the station.

Tammas looked at him.

He’s just after telling me. . Donnie pointed to the exit. Christ sake Tammas if you hadnt been fucking about in the bookie’s you’d probably’ve got picked. You were too late.

Too late! I was first there.

Aye well you should’ve stayed there; that’s what I’m saying, he didnt know. How could he if he didnt fucking see you?

You told me I would get a game Donnie.

Well what can I do man? I cant do fuck all. . He shook his head and turned away, then he indicated the large suitcase in the centre of the floor. Number 12’s in there, he said. And he grinned. Come on Tammas ya bastard, stick it on immediately. If he doesnt give you a game before half time I’ll strangle him!

Fuck off.

Donnie had reached into the bag and he threw Tammas the jersey, and he laughed. I always collapse at half time anyway, so you can come on in my place!

About midway through the first 45 minutes Tammas zipped up his jerkin to as high as it went, hunching his shoulders. The wind was fierce. And that coupled with the sharp slope from sideline to sideline was causing the ball to travel on long distances whenever miskicked with any force. In company with the substitute from the other team Tammas was having to go chasing after it every few minutes. A couple of old men and wee boys were also there helping. On one occasion he had to run fast to stop the ball interfering with the game on the next pitch and when he ran back the teams were waiting for him and Donnie was there on the touchline ready to take the throw-in. Tammas gave him the ball and muttered, Fuck ye Donnie ya bastard.

Donnie seemed not to have heard. He moved to take the throw-in. Tammas stuck his hands in his side jerkin pockets, he took out his cigarettes. The other substitute approached him. Hey jimmy, he said, you got a fag you could give us?

Tammas nodded and gave him one, and offered him the matches.

Ta. . He indicated the man in charge of the other team: He doesnt like us smoking when we’re playing.

Silly cunt, said Tammas.

The other guy nodded, he was concentrating on getting a match to stay alight long enough to get the cigarette going. Eventually Tammas passed him his own and he got a light from it.

It was nothing each at the interval. When the players came off the man handed round a pile of orange quarters. Tammas left them and strolled onto the park where the other substitute was kicking the ball about with the boys and the elderly men. He kept his hands in his jerkin pockets but trotted over to get the ball when it was passed to him. Then he saw Donnie waving to him and he trotted back. Donnie said: Has he no told you anything yet?

Naw.

Hh, he’s not told me anything either.

Tammas nodded, then he grunted: He’s no even fucking spoke to me.

Ach. Donnie shook his head. We could be doing with you too, that number 6 we’ve got’s a fucking dumpling.

Tammas sniffed.

I dont really know the guy well enough to eh. . to say anything. What like is it watching?

Ha ha. Tammas turned and spat onto the pitch.

Donnie chuckled.

The referee was returning to the centre circle; he paused on the way to uplift the ball.

That fucking rain better stay off, muttered Tammas.

The teams were now returning and the referee had placed the ball on the spot and was checking his watch. When Donnie had gone Tammas strolled down the touchline, passing the man in charge of the team, to stand some twenty yards away from him. But less than ten minutes later he walked back to him and said, Listen eh I want to go to the dressing room a minute. I’ve left something there and that and eh. . Is the door locked or what?

The man nodded, his attention on the game.

After a few moments Tammas asked: Will I be allowed in okay?

What? What’s that? The man frowned.

Have you got the key? to the dressing room?

To the dressing room! Naw, naw son you’ve got to see the caretaker.

Aw aye. Tammas sniffed. He continued standing watching the game. The winger of the opposing team had the ball and was cutting in towards the corner of the 18 yard line; a player came to meet him and the ball eventually ran loose and was collected by the keeper who kicked it high, and the wind carried it and it bounced out for another throw-in from the touchline opposite. He turned away and blew his nose through his fingers, wiping his nostrils on his wrist; he headed off to the dressing room.

•••

Simpson’s Bar was crowded. Moving between the bodies he ordered a pint of heavy and carried it to a group seated at the far side. Donnie was standing next to the table, nearby the darts’ board and when he saw his approach he roared: Look who’s here! The famous vanishing substitute!

Tammas grinned; he sat down on the fringe of the company.

So he isnt skint after all! laughed Billy.

Detained in a betting shop! laughed somebody else.

Ah shite, said Tammas.

A mixture of jeers and laughter greeted this. It was followed almost immediately by a loud roar from the darts game; a match had just ended. One of the guys at the board there shouted the initials of the next player. And while he was rising and crossing the floor the person in question pounded the air with his right fist.

Tammas drank a mouthful of beer and asked, What’s happening?

Rab replied, Happening? What d’you mean happening — nothing’s happening apart from a chinky, we’re all going for a chinky.

I mean the arrangements man, Blackpool.

Hey Donnie will you listen to the boy here! Stoating in at 9 o’clock and he’s wanting to know about arrangements! Arrangements by fuck!

Donnie shouted: We’re going for a chinky!

O Christ! Tammas shook his head and raised his beer glass.

See what I mean? Rab laughed. You’re too late man — everybody’s steamboats.

John leaned over the table: We’ve booked in bed and breakfast Tammas. Seven pound a night and we’re lucky to get it. Usually well booked up before the end of August according to the woman, the landlady. That’s how it’s so dear.

Aye, said Rab, nudging Tammas, there’s a guy in John’s work could’ve got us a place at half the price.

All I’m saying’s what he told me.

Aye well you fucking tell him to give us the address man and then we’ll see.

What is it yous’re paying? somebody asked.

Seven notes.

And that’s just for bed and breakfast, added John. On top of that we’ll have our dinner and tea to pay.

Billy sniffed. That’s right enough. And then we’ve got snacks and bevy on top of that again.

Aye and our fucking travelling expenses, called Donnie.

True. Plus if we back a few losers and all that I mean who the fuck’s going to pay that!

John shook his head. You cant get fucking talking in this place.

It’s only because you talk so much shite John. . muttered Rab.

Aye do I!

Aye, laughed Billy.

Tammas had opened a new packet of cigarettes and he offered them about the company. He said to Rab: Saw the result in the paper man — great stuff. Is that yous through to the next round then?

Quarter finals. . Rab shrugged. And he added, What about the eh. . you wanting to give us a few quid or what?

A tenner, aye. Tammas withdrew the money and handed it to him. Is that okay?

Well it’s up to you man but you’re still a wee bit behind. Rab folded the notes and put it into his hip pocket. He had a notebook in his inside jacket pocket and he flipped through the pages, entered in the details, and added, Even Billy stuck in a score!

The others laughed.

Billy called: What d’you mean ya bastard ye!

Nothing, nothing. . As Rab was returning the notebook into his pocket he said quietly to Tammas, You alright man?

What. . aye, Christ — I just want to have it all in front of me at the time and that, see how I’m fixed for everything man, see what’s what.

Rab nodded.

Some choice. .

What?

Naw I mean the chinky and that, a Saturday night.

Billy called: A couple of the boys are going up the dancing.

Aye, said Donnie, if you’d been in earlier ya cunt we might’ve got something organised.

Organised! We can fucking do it the now.

Naw we cant, too late.

Tammas shook his head. Think I’ll start going back to Shawfield.

You kidding!

Naw, this Saturday night routine man it’s fucking murder.

Aye okay but the dogs! Jesus Christ! You must’ve a short memory man!

Cause you go to the dogs doesnt mean you have to have a bet Donnie. Plenty of people go there just to watch the actual racing.

Aw aye! Donnie laughed and reached for his beer.

Rab said, Bad enough going to the dump but what like would it be without having a punt? Naw no me Tammas I’d rather have a few jars. And I mean imagine being over the night!

I know, cried Donnie, it’s fucking pissing down out there. You wind up going skint man and having to hoof it back up the road cause you’ve no got the price of a fucking bus ticket!

Tammas was grinning. Hey wait a minute Donnie they give you credit fares remember!

No for Shawfield punters they dont! That’s fucking all stopped!

Lying bastard.

The others laughed. Rab said: It’ll no affect Tammas anyway. He’s just wanting to go and watch!

Aye well it’s better than fucking sitting here all night!

I agree, called John.

Nobody’s forcing you, Rab answered. He sniffed and lifted his beer, sipped at it while gazing in the direction of the darts’ match.

Donnie agreed. We’re fighting again, he muttered. Then he rose and added, I’m away for a pish out the road!

There was a brief silence. John turned to Tammas: Ever thought about emigrating?

Emigrating? Course.

Whereabouts?

Any fucking place!

Naw it’s just. . John shrugged. An auld guy in the work, he was saying you dont need to pay if you’re under 21 years of age.

John! Billy was shaking his head at him: I keep telling you man that’s a load of fucking rubbish.

How do you know?

How do I know!

For one thing, said Rab, Donnie would’ve told us, cause his da would’ve fucking found out right at the beginning.

Aye but you’re talking about New Zealand.

Australia or New Zealand ya cunt it doesnt matter.

Doesnt matter! Australia or New Zealand!

No for this it doesnt.

What! You trying to say it’s the same thing? Australia or New Zealand?

Course I’m no trying to fucking say it’s the same fucking thing! Rab gazed at the ceiling and cried: Aw Jesus!

Well it’s two different countries man.

Tammas nodded. He’s got a point but, the John fellow, Australia and New Zealand man — two different countries! I mean he’s right enough.

Rab and Billy laughed. And Billy added. He still doesnt want to go — Donnie.

Ah he’s off his head, I’d go in a minute.

Rab swivelled on his seat, seeing Donnie coming from the gents, and he called: Hey Donnie, this cunt says you’re off your head!

What have I done now?

New Zealand!

Fuck New Zealand! If they send over Ibrox Park I might consider it.

Billy grinned and jerked his thumb at John: This yin’s trying to tell us New Zealand and Australia’s the same fucking country.

It’s no, said Donnie.

Bastards, grunted John, lifting his pint and swallowing a big mouthful. Then he said to Tammas, If you’re really interested man I’m thinking of sending away for the details. .

I thought you were wanting to go to London! laughed Billy.

John looked at him.

Sorry!

Aye well no wonder — you cant get fucking talking in this place!

I agree, said Donnie, give the boy a break for fuck sake.

Hey. . Tammas exhaled smoke and sat forwards, leaning an elbow on the edge of the table. A suggestion!

Aw naw! cried Rab.

Serious. Tammas sniffed before continuing: Mind that club place I was telling yous about? Where they played cards and that?

Ho! Rab shook his head.

Naw wait a minute. .

Ho! Rab was pushing his chair back the way and standing to his feet, and he placed one hand on Donnie’s shoulder and the other on Billy’s, and bending slightly he whispered loudly: Dont listen to one word the cunt says cause it’ll fucking cost you! He laughed and strode off in the direction of the gents.

Is it that casino you’re talking about? asked John.

Aye I mean Christ. . Tammas shrugged: I was just wondering if anybody’d fancy giving it a go.

John nodded.

If I had a couple of quid. . Billy shook his head.

Actually man you dont need that much.

You need more than I’ve got Tammas. Anyhow, they’re all fucking sharks in places like that!

Ach away.

You kidding!

Naw for fuck sake Billy they’re just ordinary.

Aw aye, ordinary!

Ordinary, aye.

Well that’s no what I’ve heard man — lucky to get walking out alive if you win a few bob!

Dont be silly.

I’m no fucking being silly.

John nodded. I could believe it Tammas.

Ah rubbish! I saw guys walking out when I was there.

Donnie glanced at him. I didnt know you’d actually been inside the place.

Aye. Tammas sniffed.

Billy said, But did you see them walking out winning a lot of dough? And I’m talking about going down the stairs and right out the fucking close.

Billy, the place isnt up a fucking close.

You know what I mean.

I dont, I dont know what you mean at all.

Tch! Billy shook his head and he looked away.

And after a moment’s silence John said, It’d be okay but if a few of us went the gether I mean, if we were team handed and that, we’d be okay.

Aye John. . Donnie raised his eyebrows and lifted his pint.

Tammas laughed.

I’m being serious but, replied John. The kind of guys go about these clubs man they probably carry shooters and all that!

That’s shite.

It might not be, said Billy.

Tammas frowned at him.

Naw I mean I wouldnt be too sure.

Ach away for fuck sake Billy.

Naw Tammas. .

Shooters!

Shooters! What’s this, shooters? Rab laughed as he sat back down on his chair. I cant leave yous for a minute for Christ sake shooters! What’re yous fucking on about now? Shooters!

Ask them, said Tammas.

Donnie grinned. Tammas is wanting to go to a casino.

I’m no wanting to go to a fucking casino man it’s a club, just a fucking club, where they play cards.

A gambling club. . Rab nodded. Tammas ya bastard if you can afford to go to a fucking gambling club you can afford to weigh us in with a bit fucking more of your Blackpool money.

Exactly! shouted Billy.

Fuck off, muttered Tammas. He stood up and looked about the table, then finished the remainder of his beer. I’m away to buy myself a pint before I die of thirst.

Rain was drizzling down when they came out of the pub, heading along in the direction of Billy’s place. They had chipped in for a carry out of beer which John was holding. As they passed a side street Donnie halted, he sniffed aloud. Chips!

Billy cried: Donnie, I keep telling you, my maw’ll stick us on a big pot of soup.

Aye, aye, so what, I’ll no stop her! Donnie grinned and made to walk off round the corner. Sure none of yous’re interested?

Naw, said Rab, you’re the only one as usual ya greedy bastard!

Donnie laughed, patted himself on the belly; he disappeared round the corner. Farther along they paused by a shop window; the interior lights were on to display the goods. John placed the carrier bag of beer on the ground inside the shop doorway and stood with it balanced upright between his feet. It’s that big belly he’s got. . Donnie I mean, he’s got more to fill than us.

Billy nodded. He’s putting the weight on.

It’s just the bevy, said Tammas. But fair enough, he has slowed down hell of a lot. I noticed that this afternoon at the football.

Ach he was always slow, said Rab. He turned and cleared his throat and spat out into the street.

Still a good player.

Aye but too slow, just too fucking slow. . Rab put his hands into his trouser pockets and stepped sideways, leaning against the shop window with his shoulder.

After a moment John said: What soup is it?

What soup is it? How the fuck do I know! Billy grinned and shook his head.

Well I hope it’s no minestrone. All these wee bits of stuff floating about.

Rab said, You’re a dickie ya cunt ye!

Ah well you dont fucking know what you’re eating man that’s what I dont like.

You’re thinking of curry, said Tammas.

Thinking of curry! Billy roared.

Tammas laughed and he made a move as though to punch Billy; then they both crouched to face each other, fists raised.

Seconds away!

Tammas and Billy circled each other.

Hey yous!

Two policemen were standing on the other side of the street. They stepped off the pavement and strolled across. One of them said to Tammas: What’s up then?

Eventually Tammas replied, Nothing.

What d’you mean nothing?

We were just kidding.

Just kidding?

Aye, said Billy, honest.

Tammas added, We’re waiting on somebody.

The policeman glanced at his companion: They’re waiting on somebody.

Mmm. . The other policeman nodded.

Honest, said Tammas, he’s just round the corner for a bag of chips man he’ll no be a minute.

Bag of chips man he’ll no be a minute. The first policeman smiled at Tammas: What is that? a bag of chips man. . Heh, he said to the other policeman, d’you know what that is? a bag of chips man. What is it, is it the same as a black pudding?

The other policeman smiled and then he gazed at the carrier bag, and looked at John. John lifted the carrier bag and handed it over to him. The policeman gazed inside; he moved the cans about. When he handed it back to John he said, On your way.

But the mate’ll be here in a minute, replied Tammas.

On your way I said, move!

He’s just round the corner in the bloody chip shop! cried Rab.

What. . what was that? The first policeman frowned and he stepped closer to Rab. What was that? What d’you say there? I never really heard you right son what was it?

Rab looked away.

Naw I thought you might’ve swore there son but I’m no sure. Did you I mean? Did you swear?

After a moment the other policeman asked: Where d’you stay?

Just along the road, said Billy.

I’m no asking you I’m asking him. The policeman pointed to Rab. It’s you I’m asking.

Rab sniffed. He was standing away from the window now. He replied, Scotstoun.

Scotstoun. Fine, right, the bus-stop’s over the road.

Aye but he’s coming up to my house, said Billy.

Naw he’s no, no the night he’s no, he’s changed his mind, he’s just going home.

I’m no, said Rab.

Aye you are, you’ve changed your mind.

I have not changed my mind.

The first policeman grinned: He’s steamboats anyhow, look at him, he can hardly stand.

If you ask me they’re all steamboats. . The policeman shook his head. He glanced at Rab: What’s wrong? Can you no hold your drink or something?

Tammas stepped over, nearby Rab, and he said to him: Come on man time we were moving.

I’ll tell you something, said the policeman, it’s time yous were all moving; and if yous are no out of here in five minutes flat I’ll do the lot of yous. Ye listening now? D’yous understand?

After a brief silence the other policeman gestured with his thumb: On your way.

Move! said the first one. Then his attention was attracted to John who was pointing along the street. Donnie had appeared. He was walking quite quickly, then he slowed. He was holding the bag of fish and chips in his left hand and in his right he held a chip. He continued on towards them, putting the chip into his mouth.

John said, It’s the mate.

Just keep walking, grunted the policeman, just keep walking. And yous go with him, and dont stop, dont even look back.

Tammas nudged Rab with his elbow and the five of them continued on along the street in silence. It was Donnie who spoke first. What the fuck happened?

Billy replied, Tell you in the house.

Dirty bastards, muttered Rab, the dirty fucking bastards.

Tammas nodded. I’m leaving this dump man I’m definitely leaving, definitely fucking leaving.

Okay Tammas you can take my place! Donnie gestured at him with a chip and grinned: You go to New Zealand and I’ll just stay here.

Rab swivelled round and grabbed him by the shoulder and shouted: You dont go to New Zealand man and I’ll fucking have ye, I’ll fucking have ye man. .

What! Donnie moved forwards, turning and picking off his hand: What d’you say ya cunt?

You fucking heard what I said!

Aye I fucking heard alright!

Ya bastard. .

What? Donnie was glaring at him, the bag of chips and fish clutched in his left hand.

This is fucking hopeless, cried Billy.

Well what’s up with him then? shouted Donnie.

He just had bother with the fucking polis! Tammas said, Did you no notice?

Donnie glanced at him, then poked himself on the chest: Well he shouldnt get fucking onto me that’s all I’m fucking saying.

Tammas nodded.

John said, Come on, we better go, just in case they come.

I agree, said Billy.

You always fucking agree, muttered Tammas.

Aye, just get onto me now.

What?

Well, fuck sake. .

Tammas looked at him. Then he added, Right, sorry; sorry.

Let’s just go up the house out the road.

Tammas nodded.

Donnie said, I think I’ll just go home.

Naw you’re no, you’re fucking coming — eh Tammas?

Tammas smiled.

Come on, said Rab. Donnie. . I shouldnt’ve fucking. . He sniffed: Sorry about that. I mean I shouldnt’ve fucking. . He shook his head.

Donnie nodded, he squashed the bag of fish and chips into a ball and he threw it into the gutter.

•••

They travelled by hoist up to the 2nd floor. It was quiet here, hardly any machinery. Most of the workers were female. A transistor radio was playing pop music. Ralphie grinned and nudged Tammas; they walked in the direction of the foreman’s office, down between rows of long workbenches where women were cutting rectangular sections out of ragged, flat pieces of plastic, the discarded bits being tossed into wide containers beneath the benches. Ralphie paused by one of the women for a chat. Beside her two girls were working and talking together while slicing through the plastic with short stubby knives.

They continued on to the office. Ralphie chapped the door and opened it and entered immediately. The foreman had been studying sheets of paper. He squinted up at them and said: It’s yourself Ralphie?

Aye.

Hh! So how’s life?

No bad, no bad. Wee McCreadie’s retired.

I heard, I heard. He’ll be dead in a month!

Ralphie smiled.

Shouldnt say that I suppose! The foreman raised his eyebrows; he folded his arms then sat back on his chair. So. . what can I do for you?

Ralphie shrugged. Me and the boy here were told to report to you.

Were you? Hh, well well well. He unfolded his arms and sat forwards again, took a tipped cigarette from the packet on the desk; and when he had it alight he sat back, resting his elbows on the chair-arms. He said: Know who I saw last week?

Ralphie shook his head.

Thompson. Mind of him?

Thompson?

Over your way he worked.

Eh. .

Big heavy set kind of fellow.

Thompson?

Aye, no mind of him?

Eh. . naw, cant say I do, cant say I do, to be honest.

The foreman grinned. You’re getting auld son you’re getting auld!

Thanks a lot!

Naw, so. . The foreman leaned forwards and said: Yous’ve lost the Belgian order eh! Pity, pity.

Ralphie shrugged.

So what d’you do now?

Ah they’re talking about the nightshift coming off for good.

Are they? Aye, I heard that.

Ralphie nodded.

Aye, it’s a game! So, yous’ve to report to me eh! He glanced at Tammas. It must be the shifting they want you on. Nothing else I can think of. The two of yous Ralphie, on the shifting, the lassies’ bins — got to shift them out the road when they get full otherwise they cant get working properly. He paused and he took a long drag on his cigarette. When he exhaled he blew the smoke onto the desk, scattering ash from out the ashtray. You take the bins out the back yard, he said. You’ll see the pitch when you get there. Okay?

Okay, aye. . Ralphie paused then turned to leave.

The foreman said: So how d’you fancy this neck of the woods?

In here you mean?

Aye. . The foreman winked. The lassies and that. . They’re good workers mind you, I’ll say that for them!

Ralphie nodded. I know what you mean. By the way, I take it we use a bogie or something?

O aye, aye. You’ll get one up in the storeroom maybe, or out in the yard. And Ralphie, mind the bins — you know what like they are in this bloody place! Steal the braces off your trousers if you gave them the chance!

On their way back down between the row of benches Ralphie paused to say something to the woman he had spoken to earlier but she contorted her face and continued to stare at the plastic in front of her, and she whispered: Dont look now but he’s keeking out the window!

O Jesus Christ. . Ralphie smothered a laugh and they walked on at once.

At the top end of the section the two girls were now assisting another woman load a flat trolley with cut plastic sections. The woman said something to them and they laughed loudly.

The hoist arrived and Tammas pulled open the gates; and when Ralphie stepped inside he closed the gates, and pressed the button for the ground floor.

Behind the rear yard the factory was bound by a canal. There were thick clusters of nettles, different sorts of weeds, some growing to enormous heights; twisted in amongst the roots were barbed wire, other wire, strips of plastic and various kinds of rubbish. On the canal surface more rubbish lay trapped in a mixture of oils and solvents.

Ralphie was stuffing tobacco into the bowl of his pipe. Seated between him and Tammas was an elderly guy by the name of Benny who chainsmoked hand-rolled cigarettes. They were sitting on old piping, with their backs resting against the boiler room wall. Benny was the boilerman. When he had lighted a new cigarette he pointed to a part of the canal and said to Tammas: Just there son. I’ve seen that wee teuchter who works in the blacksquad catch a perch as big as your arm with a bit of wire and a bent pin. Aye and I’m no fucking kidding either — eh Ralph?

Aye.

Tammas nodded.

See son the canal’s stowed out with fish. They’re no like us at all I mean fuck sake if we fell in we wouldnt fucking drown, we’d die of dipfuckingtheria, but no the fish, not only do they survive they fucking thrive. That right Ralph?

Ralphie nodded. At one time they used to send folk down from the university.

That’s right son. See what they were doing, they were experimenting with the oil the fish has inside its body. It’s to do with their gut, they’ve got some fucking thing allows them to separate the good out from the bad.

Hh. Tammas rose from where he was sitting and he stretched and yawned, then sat back down and yawned again: Wonder what time it is?

The back of two, said Benny.

What?

I would say about 5 past.

Christ, it must be more than that surely?

Naw.

Fuck sake!

My watch is through there if you want to check.

Ralphie was smiling. No patience Benny, these young yins nowadays. Same with that fucking Belgian order — they’re all up to high doh worrying about it as well. I dont see the point myself.

You’re right. I mean it’d be a different story if it affected the whole fucking place but it doesnt, just one fucking section.

Aye, said Ralphie, ours!

Ah well that’s as maybe; could be yours could be mine’s.

Ralphie chuckled. How could it be yours ya auld fucking fox ye! The boiler room! That’s the last place to go. And well you fucking know it!

Naw I’m just saying but Ralph I’m just saying.

Ralphie smiled and shook his head. He put the pipe back into his mouth and sucked, but it had stopped burning. He took out his matches.

Ah! Tammas got onto his feet again and put his hands on his hips and stretched.

Cant keep still a minute!

I’m getting stiff sitting down.

Ralphie shook his head, he struck the match he was holding and began getting his pipe going.

You can blame your football, said Benny. You’re talking about being stiff sitting down son it’s cause of your football, that’s what you should fucking blame. That’s the cause of it. Yous all go running about daft every dinner time and then yous stop all of a sudden, and your muscles dont cope, they just fucking stiffen up. Same as these athletes. Their bodies are all highly tuned up. So they’ve got to run a fucking race cause they’ve been training. See if they dont son, their fucking bodies, their muscles, they all get fucking knotted up. And sometimes they can wind up catching the flu out it.

Tammas nodded. He took a half smoked cigarette from behind his ear and he struck a match against the brickwork.

•••

He sat down with the Evening Times before lighting the cigarette, turned down the volume of the radio a little. Then he laid the paper on the table and placed his elbows on it, resting his chin on his thumbs, his hands covering the front of his face. The sound he made was half sigh, half groan. Withdrawing his hands abruptly he sat back on the chair and stretched his arms, the fingers of each hand outspread; the cigarette fell and he snatched it from out of his groin. The kettle was whistling. He used the boiling water to top up the bowl containing dirty cutlery and dishes and he washed them all and then dried them. He went through to the living room where his sister was watching television. At half past seven he got up from where he was sitting, he strolled to the window and gazed out.

There’s a good film coming on, she said, spies or something.

Aw aye, good. I’ll be back later.

In his own room he lay on the bed with his hands clasped beneath the back of his head. He stared at the ceiling for a while. Eventually he turned onto his side to reach for the book that was lying on top of the adjacent cupboard but he did not open the pages, he lay back down again with his eyelids shut.

A knock on the door roused him. It was Margaret, asking if he wanted a coffee. He glanced at the clock while telling her to come in.

Coffee?

Eh aye. . aye Margaret, thanks.

D’you want it ben here?

He shrugged then added: Aye, ta.

She had turned and was going back out when he called, Eh Margaret.

She paused, looked at him.

Any chance of a pound till Friday?

She smiled. I knew it — after you getting everything up to date at the weekend; I knew you would leave yourself short. You didnt have to give me so much.

I thought I would’ve lasted.

I’ll bring it with the coffee.

It’s okay, he said getting down from the bed. And he followed her to the kitchen. She opened her bag and took out her purse. After she had given him the £1 she lifted the kettle to fill it from the tap. But he said, Dont bother Margaret, I think I’ll just nick out for a pint.

I thought it was for your work.

Ah well I’ve got to see Billy and that about Blackpool, some arrangements still to be sorted out.

She frowned briefly, and added: There’s more to life than Simpson’s pub you know.

Tammas had stepped to the doorway and he stood there with his hand on the handle. Just a pint, he said.

She sighed, shook her head.

I’ll no be long.

Well. . she nodded: I dont suppose you’d get very far on a pound.

Thanks Margaret. He pushed open the door, and closed it behind him. But she called his name and he opened it again, remaining outside in the lobby.

Tammas. .

Aye?

You need to go a bit easy you know.

Mm. He sniffed then nodded and closed the door.

•••

He took the remaining cheese piece out of the greaseproof wrapping paper and ate it slowly. There were no conversations in progress. The men were eating or smoking, reading the morning newspapers or staring at the floor or the wall or the ceiling. Sitting next to Tammas the man turned the pages of the Daily Record and kept them open at the racing section. Tammas gazed at it and eventually the man moved the paper a little nearer for him.

Anybody for a game of solo? called the teaboy. He was sitting at the table with the cards spread out in a game of clock patience. When nobody answered him he called: Trump?

A man sitting near him said, Sssh.

Tammas finished the sandwich. He screwed the wrapping paper into a ball, chipped it in the air, to land in the big cardboard box where the litter was dumped. He looked back at the newspaper. The man was indicating one of the day’s runners and saying, I’m sick of punting this fucking bastard here — owes me a fortune so it does.

Ah it’s a bad yin.

You’re no kidding. I saw it on the telly a couple of weeks ago. Looked like it was going to win a distance then everyfuckingthing came and passed it.

Tammas nodded.

Should’ve won out of the fucking park so it should — terrible!

I saw it as well: said another guy. But I had a wee hunch the jockey dropped the reins.

Ah they all drop the fucking reins! said somebody from the bench opposite.

Here we go! muttered the man next to Tammas. And he pointed to another runner. Darktown Lad, he said, What I want to know is how come they’re fucking running it in a handicap the day when they stuck it into a fucking seller last week!

Aye, said Tammas, maybe a move on.

Exactly. He shook his head: Best to leave the race alone altogether.

The man from the bench opposite cried: Wish to fuck you’d leave them all alone ya cunt — save you tapping me every time you go skint!

Fuck off.

Fuck off yourself!

The man closed the newspaper and brought out a cigarette packet and he lighted one and returned the packet into his pocket, then he opened the newspaper again.

One of the others yawned and stood to his feet, glanced at his watch and said: I suppose I suppose. Time to do a bit.

Somebody laughed: Listen to him! He’s been out getting a suntan on the fucking canal bank all morning!

I’ll tell you something, if you want to go out there picking up bits of fucking plastic then you’re welcome; I’ll fucking swop you any day of the week. Fucking boring man! I’m bored out my head!

Ah, cushy number.

Cushy number! The man shook his head; he turned to the bench and lifted his newspaper and tobacco tin, and then walked out the smoke-area. Gradually the others began to leave.

Tammas said quietly to the man sitting next to him: You got a fag you could lend us?

The man nodded, he brought out the packet and handed it to him.

After dinner Ralphie and Tammas reported to the front yard where a lorry had arrived. The driver climbed down from the cabin and began unloosening the ropes; it was a load of 56lb bags of cement. After a minute Tammas walked forwards; he made to untie one of the knots but the driver told him not to bother. It was me that tied it, he said. I know how to get it done quick.

When he had finished he climbed up onto the rear and manoeuvered the first to the edge. Ralphie glanced round and shook his head. I might’ve fucking known! he muttered, We’re on our fucking tod as usual!

He bent to dunt the ashes out of his pipebowl, stuck it into the top pocket of his dungarees. Okay, he said to Tammas, we better just start.

Aye, replied the driver, it’s appreciated — I’ve got another delivery later.

They worked in silence, the driver dropping then dragging the bags to the edge of the wagon where the two would pull them onto their shoulders and walk a few strides before swinging them down onto the ground next to the wall. More than twenty minutes went by. Then assistance arrived; two men, one of whom was Murdie. And they were followed almost immediately by the yards’ foreman. He came to the rear of the lorry and stopped there, he scratched his head and studied the pile against the wall.

Ralphie had just swung down another bag; he took off his bunnet, ruffled the hair on his head and put it back.

The foreman sighed and pointed at the pile of bags. Tell me this, he said, how’s the bloody forklift going to shift they bloody bags?

What?

I said how’s a bloody forklift going to lift that fucking load there!

Ralphie made no reply.

I mean did you no even think to get a couple of bloody platforms? Christ Almighty you could surely’ve thought of that!

Ralphie frowned and stared at the ground.

The driver of the lorry was lighting a cigarette. Then he said, Hey is the unloading stopped or what? I’ve got another drop this afternoon.

The foreman did not answer him. He said to Ralphie: There’s a pile of platforms out near the skip. I want you to go and fucking get them. Alright?

Ralphie said nothing.

And yous three, yous three fucking help him. And see when yous’ve got them. . He pointed at the pile stacked against the wall. Just take all them and stick them onto them and then after that yous can start unloading the rest off the fucking wagon. Okay? And he turned to the driver and shook his head, and then strode off.

After a moment Murdie grinned at Ralphie: See the bother you get us into!

Away and fuck yourself son, muttered Ralphie. He walked away in the direction of the skip. Tammas and the other two followed. When they had caught up to him he spat before saying: We’re fucking machinemen, we shouldnt have to be doing this.

The man with Murdie smiled: Aye, he said, it’s a labourer’s job! He smiled again.

Ralphie replied after a moment. Ah well you know what I fucking mean.

We’re all labourers, said Murdie. That’s the fucking point.

Aw thanks for telling me. Ralphie nodded. Thanks.

Well so we are — eh Tammas?

Tammas shrugged.

The quiet man eh!

Tammas looked at him. They continued on in silence to where the wooden platforms lay. He knelt to tighten his bootlaces while the others sorted out the ones to be taken. Ralphie and the third man paired off on the first batch and Tammas took the second batch with Murdie. While they were walking he said quietly: I know you’re no really due me anything till Friday and that Murdie but I was wondering if you could manage a couple of bob just now I mean even just fifty pence or something. . I’m fucking skint. He grinned. Right out the game!

Murdie shook his head. You must be joking Tammas.

I dont even have a fucking fag man.

Neither do I.

Tammas gazed at him.

I dont. I’m no fucking kidding. The busfare she gives me and that’s that. . Murdie lowered his voice as they approached the others; he added in a whisper: Honest.

Tammas nodded.

•••

Robert looked up from the book he had been reading, he rose from the armchair and crossed to the television set. He paused there with his hand at the channel switch. Anything in particular. .?

Margaret stifled a yawn. I’m not bothered.

Neither am I, said Tammas.

Robert shrugged. I’ll see what’s on BBC1. . He switched channels. He continued standing for a few moments, before slightly reducing the volume of sound and returning to his armchair, where he picked up his book and resumed reading. Margaret had been knitting; her needles and wool were lying to the side of her, she rested her head on the back of the settee, her eyelids closed. Moments later she blinked.

Tammas grinned at her and she smiled. What about some tea and a slice of toast? he said.

O no for me.

Are you sure? He stood to his feet.

Before she could answer Robert said: Look at her! An hour home from my work and that’s her off to bed out the road — I’m beginning to take it personal!

Margaret shivered and yawned. She shook her head and looked at her wristwatch. I dont know what’s up with me, she added.

You’re tired, replied Robert, that’s what’s up with you!

She smiled.

Tammas said: You sure you dont fancy a tea?

It’ll just keep me awake.

He nodded and sat back down again.

Actually, said Margaret, I think I’ll just go to bed the now. Bob, I think I’ll just go the now.

Nobody’s stopping you!

She tidied her knitting needles and wool before rising, and she added: Are you staying up?

Eh. . He glanced at his book and frowned slightly. Naw, I’ll just eh. . He smiled. By the time you’ve done your face I’ll have finished this chapter.

She yawned and remained standing by the settee.

Robert grinned. I’ll see you ben there in other words.

O, okay. . Goodnight Tammas.

Goodnight Margaret. . When she had gone he added: What about yourself Robert, fancy a cup of tea?

Eh, och naw, I’ll no bother. He yawned, then chuckled: It’s contagious.

I dont fancy doing that backshift, said Tammas. Even worse than the nightshift.

I know, you’re right, it’s the worst of the three. Robert lifted his book upwards and he looked at it closely, then he glanced at Tammas. Naw, he said, I dont like it myself.

Tammas nodded, he shifted on the settee a bit, inclining his head while gazing at the television screen. Some moments later he got up, saying: Think I’ll put the kettle on. .

Robert nodded without looking away from his book.

Once the kettle was on to boil he went ben to his own room. There were two ashtrays, one on the window sill and one on the small cupboard near to the bed; both were clean. He pulled open the wardrobe door and felt into the pockets of his clothes.

The kettle boiled while he was standing by the kitchen sink, staring out the window over the backcourt. He made himself a cup of instant coffee. When he opened the living room door Robert stirred, he sighed and closed the book, and said: Is she in bed yet?

She’s no in the bathroom anyway.

Ah well. . Robert nodded. He bent forwards to see his slippers, nudging his feet inside them. Never mind, he said, the holiday next week — we’ll probably get a heatwave.

Definitely.

Robert smiled. No that it’ll bother you.

Tammas looked at him.

Naw, what I mean, Blackpool, you’re no worried about the weather; even if it was blooming snowing you’ve got places to go.

Aw aye. .

We had a great time when we went. Course we were winching at the time. And that makes a difference. He smiled, walking round the armchair to the door. Goodnight.

Goodnight Robert.

The Evening Times lay to the side of the fire-surround, nearby Robert’s armchair and Tammas went to get it, opening it at the back pages.

Later on Robert could be heard leaving the bathroom and entering his bedroom; Once the bedroom light had been switched off Tammas turned the television back on. Another twenty minutes and he was checking the meter-bowl on the mantelpiece, withdrawing two ten pence coins. He went to his own bedroom and put on a pair of shoes; along the lobby he opened the outside door gently, leaving it on the latch.

It was raining quite heavily when he left the close and he ran to the corner and along to the cafe. One side of the shop was in semi darkness but the other side was open. Two guys were at the counter, telling jokes to the elderly woman serving. She was glancing at them now and again while turning the chips in the boiling fat with the long strainer. A younger woman appeared from the rear, wiping her hand on a teatowel. She nodded to him. Eh hullo Marie, he said. You got three singles?

After a slight pause she sniffed and turned to the cigarette counter and took three cigarettes from an opened packet. She took the money and gave him his change.

Thanks, he smiled at her.

•••

Here you are! said the foreman.

Ralphie glanced at Tammas before looking at the men, and he replied, Christ almighty we’ve just sat down.

The foreman nodded. I believe you I believe you — but come on the now till I show you; I’ve got a wee job.

They followed him from the smoke-area, right outside the building to the rear yard, where he indicated a big pile of broken wooden crates. A couple of your mates were breaking them up yesterday but they forgot to get bloody rid of them! The foreman shook his head: I told them as well! Anyhow, okay, I want yous to burn it. Alright? A bonfire, but make sure yous keep it well away from anything inflammable.

When he had gone off Tammas said, Thank Christ, I was beginning to wish he’d stick us back on the machine. Anything’s fucking better than nothing.

Aye, it’s been a long week son.

You’re no kidding.

Never mind. Ralphie lifted his bunnet up off his head for a moment then settling it back again he bent to drag out some of the wood. Watch for nails, he said.

They carted the wood across to a cleared area and also collected in bits of plastic and cardboard which were lying about. Rain began drizzling; soon it became heavier and Ralphie moved to shelter by the factory wall. Tammas continued finding rubbish until the other called him across, and added: You dont get paid to catch a fucking cold.

Several minutes later the foreman appeared at a door some yards away. He gestured to them to come. Here, he said, and handed them two enormous polythene bags. Stick a couple of holes in them and you’ll be able to wear them — they’ll keep you dry. And here. . He handed a gallon tin to Ralphie: Paraffin; to start your fire.

The foreman turned slightly and he winked at Tammas. You’re doing a grand job Ralph!

Ralphie grunted.

The rain was falling heavily now. When the foreman departed Tammas began pulling on one of the polythene bags but Ralphie laughed briefly and said: For fuck sake son!

He shook his head and grinned at him, then strode out to the big pile of wood and rubbish and emptied the paraffin on top. Tammas trotted out to beside him and watched as Ralphie knelt a little to drop on a match. Then he followed him along the path near the canal, leaving the pile to burn. They walked quickly, hunching their shoulders against the rain.

At the entrance to the boiler room Benny was standing gazing at the sky. That’ll be on for the rest of the day, he said. He stood aside to let them in.

To the back of the room, behind the boilers, there was a large pipe Benny used as a bench, and here the three of them sat down, Ralphie shaking the rainwater out of his bunnet before bringing out his tobacco and his pipe. Benny was already smoking a roll-up. So, your nightshift’s been halved? he said.

Ralphie looked at him. How did you know that? Ya auld cunt ye I bet you knew before us!

Benny sniffed before replying. Well, he said, I heard a wee whisper at the beginning of the week there but eh I didnt want to say anything — in case it was just a fucking rumour. You know what like they are in this place Ralph you can hardly believe a fucking word you hear. He nudged Tammas and continued, I’m telling you son see if you listen to everything you get fucking told in this joint you’ll wind up in a confused condition. It’s fucking notorious so it is! How long you been here now?

About seven month.

Is that all? said Ralphie.

Aye.

Hh. I thought it was longer.

Naw, it just seems like it!

Benny said, Wait till you’re here the same as us.

God forbid. . chuckled Ralphie.

Tammas shook his head. No point worrying about that auld yin — last in first out. I’ll be heading the line soon as the redundancies start.

There was a brief silence.

Then Tammas glanced at the boilerman. I was wondering, he said, any chance of loaning me a smoke?

What d’you say?

Naw I was just wondering, if you could lend me a smoke, one of your roll-ups.

Aw aye. .

Ralphie coughed.

Any chance?

Benny nodded. He took his tobacco pouch out of a pocket in his boilersuit and handed it to Tammas. There’s a couple rolled already, inside.

Thanks a lot Benny. Tammas unzipped the pouch and brought one out.

Ralphie passed him a box of matches and added, Look and see if that fire’s still going.

Shortly before the dinner break the foreman appeared in the smoke-area to distribute the wages’ packets. Minutes later Tammas was walking out through the factory yard, in company with others from his section. It was still raining. Just beyond the gates the teaboy and two other youths were sheltering, they had a ball they were throwing to each other; and the teaboy called: Hey Tammas you coming up for a game?

Maybe. . He glanced at the sky and shrugged.

The rain’s going to go off!

Tammas nodded; he continued on along the street. There was a pub down near the junction traffic lights and he entered, making his way through the crowded bar into the lounge. Ordering a pint of heavy and a pie and peas he walked to where a few of his workmates were grouped. When a gap occurred in the conversation he said: Any of yous seen Murdie?

I dont think he’s in, somebody replied.

You mean he’s no at work?

As far as I know.

Hh. Tammas shook his head.

He still owes you a couple of quid?

Aye. . Tammas grimaced then returned to the bar to collect his pint and his food. Afterwards he left the pub and crossed the road to the betting shop.

At 4.45 that afternoon he was stamping his timecard and racing down the sloping corridor to the front yard, and across and out through the gates, and down the street. Others were running also. They dashed into the bookmaker’s just as the runners for the 4.45 race were about to come under starter’s orders. Tammas grabbed a betting slip and managed to scribble out a bet and get it on just as the race was off.

It was the last race of the day at that particular meeting but there was another meeting on; it had a race coming up at 5 pm and another at 5.30.

•••

Betty had her back to the shop window, staring at the pavement, her head bowed. Quite a few other people were standing about at this corner. He hesitated some yards away. Another girl was approached by a youth and together they walked off round into Argyll Street. Betty raised her head a moment later and she gazed after them. Her head was bowed again when he reached her. He tapped the side of her arm. Sorry I’m late.

She made no reply but linked arms with him.

I couldnt get a bloody bus. Ended up I just walked.

Walked? She smiled.

Aye.

Is it no a long way?

Aye. He shrugged. I do it a lot but, I quite like walking.

She nodded. They continued up Union Street in silence, until Betty smiled: I thought you’d forgotten!

Forgotten?

Have you been for a pint? she said, sniffing near to his mouth.

What — aye.

Is that how you’re late?

Naw, not at all. . He paused; they stopped walking. Am I no allowed a pint on a Friday night!

Tch Tammas, I didnt mean that. .

He nodded.

I was just meaning if that’s how you were late.

Aw, aye.

They were standing at the traffic lights; he had his hands in his trouser pockets and Betty was to his left, her arm linking his. A few other people were there also and they started across Gordon Street as the lights turned to amber. Tammas and Betty followed. After a bit she said, A girl in work was saying that the one in the ABC 2’s quite violent.

Hh.

That’s what she said, but. . Betty shrugged, pursed her lips. D’you fancy it though?

Eh. .

She was looking at him.

Eh, well. . He sniffed and glanced suddenly across the street, checking slightly in his stride.

When they continued over to the other pavement she smiled at him: You fancy the pub, she said.

Naw. Naw Betty, honest.

Yes you do.

I dont, Christ.

She was smiling. I dont mind Tammas except I just dont like sitting all night in them. Sometimes I go with the people in the work and it gets awful boring, especially if some of them start to get a bit drunk. Rena’s the same. She doesnt often go out with them at all. And d’you know something else?

He nodded.

Naw, she said, about Rena?

What?

I’m saying do you know something else, about Rena?

About Rena? He frowned.

No Tammas. . Betty shook her head, she grinned and tugged on his arm till he brought his hand out his pocket. And he looked at her. She sighed: No Tammas I was just saying, about Rena; she told me she wished Rab didnt drink so much.

Rena?

Aye, she said she thinks he’s drinking too much.

Hh!

She did.

He nodded.

Is it every Saturday night he goes to the pub?

He shrugged. No every one, I dont think. . He paused and she withdrew her arm from his. He took his hands out his pockets. Betty. . he said. He put his hands back into his pockets and hunched his shoulders.

They had stopped walking now and she was looking at him.

Eh. .

What’s up? she asked. She frowned, glanced away, watching someone pass by, before turning to him again. What’s wrong? she said quietly.

Nothing, nothing, it’s no that, there’s nothing wrong. He patted her on the elbow, led her in to stand closeby a shop window. Naw, he said, it’s just — I’m skint. He sniffed and poked his right forefinger into the corner of his eye socket, blinked a couple of times, then brought out his cigarettes and lighted one. When he exhaled she asked: What d’you mean?

Naw. Just — I’m skint, I’ve no got any dough. Well — about. . He took some change from his trouser pocket and displayed it on the palm of his hand. Sixty three pence.

Betty began to say something but stopped, frowning.

Naw, he said, I’m really. . I just eh. . He shut his eyelids.

I dont know what you mean Tammas, I dont know what it is; what is it? what d’you mean?

He sighed. He was gazing into the shop window then he glanced very briefly at her, and then up in the direction of the cinema. The September Weekend and that I just eh. . I was really behind and. . He shook his head, inhaling deeply on the cigarette. He turned to her, putting his arm round her shoulder but withdrew it at once and shook his head again: I’m really sorry Betty, honest.

Do you mean you’ve had to put your money bye for Blackpool?

Aye well, aye — but no just that I mean. . you know how I’m living with my sister and that?

She nodded.

It’s just eh, I always like to pay my way and that, spot on, with the money and that, just to keep it right.

Aw.

I dont like to eh. . He sighed, then he inhaled on the cigarette and gazed up Renfield Street.

Tammas. Betty smiled and linked arms with him. Dont be silly.

Naw, he said. He continued to gaze away from her.

Betty tugged at his arm. She smiled. Come on. . God Tammas I’ve got money, if it’s just the pictures, my goodness. She chuckled.

Naw but that’s no fair Betty, hh, Christ.

Tammas, it’s alright, honest.

He shook his head.

Come on. . She tugged on his arm again and then they carried on walking towards the cinema; but before arriving he stopped and brought his right hand out his pocket so that Betty had to withdraw her arm.

He was shaking his head. Naw, he said, and he sighed quite loudly. Betty. . He rubbed his eyes. This is out of order. I’m sorry, I really. . He touched her on the arm, just beneath her shoulder, then turned about and strode off across the street, and down the way, without looking back.

•••

His head jerked up from the pillow at the slight tremor of the clock and he switched off the alarm before it sounded. His eyelids closed. They opened, and he groped at the top of the bedside cupboard where the cigarette packet was lying. He left it there and raised himself up, studied the clock. A moment later he slid out between the covers and went through to the lavatory before getting on his clothes.

The house was in semi darkness. He tugged the cord to pull up the venetian blinds in the kitchen, leaving off the electric light. He ate cornflakes and milk, rinsing out the bowl and spoon and drying them, returning them into their places in the cupboard. Then he collected his jerkin and cigarettes from his own room. Back down the lobby he clicked open the outside door, closing it gently behind him.

The street and pavement were damp but the sky was clear and it was a mild morning. Along at the newsagent’s shop the man was sorting through his big bundles of Sunday newspapers, a cigarette burning in the corner of his mouth and his eyelids blinking to avoid the smoke. He nodded at Tammas and gave him his ordered Sunday Mail without a word.

At the bus stop two men in donkey jackets and denims stood talking together, behind them queued a woman and two children who were clutching thin religious books. A block further on he paused to strike a match, cupping the flame in both hands, the newspaper beneath his right oxter. When he had the cigarette going he flicked the match into the gutter then opened the newspaper at the back pages, he read while strolling. He came to where a plot of grass had been planted in a gapsite; an arc-shaped iron railing surrounded it, and in an inshot a bench had been fixed into a concrete slab. He sat down there for a while.

A bus passed, travelling slowly. Tammas looked after it, the newspaper now lying folded on his lap. From behind his ear he brought the half smoked cigarette and got it alight before rising and continuing on.

Where he was now walking the buildings consisted mainly of warehouses and small factories with occasional TO LET signs pasted on their windows. Very few vehicles were on the roads. He turned off and along, parallel to the river. From where he was it could be seen stretching only as far as Govan. Nearby stood an enormous crane with what looked to be a very large shed on one end.

The rain had started falling by the time he entered the entrance to the pedestrian tunnel. The floor was white with bird shit. Condensation seeped down the walls and roofing and there was a continuous gurgling noise coming from somewhere, also a roaring noise that increased the further downstairs he stepped, until it seemed to block out all other sound.

On the other side of the river he sheltered in the entrance until the rain lessened, then headed along the cobbled dock road. The area to the left was waste ground, where tenement buildings had been recently demolished; here and there foundation work for new buildings seemed to be in progress. To the right of the pavement he was on was a high wall which continued for about a mile. When he reached its other end he took his newspaper back out, glancing at it as he went.

He only had one cigarette left. He lighted it and crushed the packet and dropped it to the ground, but kicked at it just before it landed. Then he brought the box of matches out his jerkin pocket again. It was nearly full. Striking one he thrust it in beside the rest and watched as it all burst into flames, and he bent and placed it on the pavement. Several paces on he turned to look back; the small fire was still burning.

A man was staring at him from a bus stop on the other side of the road.

Half an hour later he was at Linthouse, entering the pedestrian tunnel there; a further forty or so minutes and he had arrived at Rab’s place in Scotstoun. His younger brother Alec opened the door, dressed in pyjamas and rubbing his eyes. Tammas, he said.

Is Rab up?

He’s no in.

No in?

Naw, he never came back last night. Alec yawned: I thought he was with you and Donnie and them.

Tammas nodded.

How, was he no?

Eh I’m no sure, I never went out last night.

Did you no?

Naw.

Alec yawned again. He’ll probably be back soon anyway. Come on in and wait if you want. Maw and da are still in bed. I’ll be making a bit of toast.

Eh. . ach naw Alec I’ll no bother — just tell him I came.

Aye. Anything else?

Naw.

•••

Margaret was standing in the doorway, all set to leave for work; she was frowning.

What’s up? he said, resting on his elbows.

What’s up! I thought you were away long ago!

He nodded and lay back down, pulling the blankets to his chin. I slept in, he muttered.

You slept in! Tammas, for heaven sake, you cant afford to be taking days off your work.

He shut his eyelids.

She continued to stand there. The door creaked on its hinges then after a few more moments it closed behind her; she could be heard walking quickly down the lobby and out, banging the front door shut. Eventually he dozed. Later in the morning he was carrying a bulky plastic bag to the pawnbroker’s. A young woman came out of the back entrance pushing a small pram; he stood aside to let her pass to the front close. In the shop he entered one of the cubicles and brought the suit out the bag and onto the counter. A girl attended him; without examining the suit she asked: How much?

Seven.

The girl hesitated.

Tammas nodded. Ask him and see. . He watched through the grille as she crossed the floor and handed the suit to the middle aged man at the table. He glanced at the suit and muttered something to her. When she returned she laid the suit on the counter before speaking. He says three fifty for it.

Three fifty?

Yes.

Mm. He opened the bag and brought out a pair of black shoes, slid them beneath the grille.

The girl shook her head.

But they’ve only been worn once.

He wont even look at them.

What — I mean, hh. . He shrugged and indicated the soles: Hardly even scuffed.

They have to be brand new but, no worn at all.

No worn at all?

Yes, they’ve no to be worn at all.

Just ask him.

No, there’s no point, he’ll no. . She closed her lips and shook her head.

Och that’s terrible I mean they’ve no even been worn, just the once.

She nodded.

He sighed, then he smiled briefly. After a few moments she pushed the shoes back under the grille to him and she asked: Do you still want to leave the suit?

Aye. He looked at her.

•••

It was beginning to rain heavily. Ralphie and Tammas were collecting rubbish from the long grass near the canal bank and disposing of it in the skip container. The older man stopped working first. That’s that, he said. The boiler room! He started trotting in that direction at once, holding his bunnet down on his head with one hand.

Tammas shouted after him: I’ll see you later.

Ralphie paused: Where you going?

Ah — just for a walk.

Aye well you better hide son, keep out the fucking road — know what I mean?

Aye dont worry. He turned and walked to one of the doors into the factory, keeping close in to the wall to avoid the rain. Inside was another door, lying ajar. There was a steady hum from the generator room. He pushed open the door more widely, and entered. It was a small room and there was a youth sitting on a pipe with a magazine open on his lap, leaning on his shoulder was one of the engineers. They glanced at him. The youth grimaced: Dont fucking do that to people!

Sorry.

Jesus sake, said the man, placing his hand on his chest. I nearly had a fucking heart attack!

Tammas nodded. After a moment he said, I was looking for eh auld Benny, you seen him?

They shook their heads. The man added, He’ll be in the boiler room.

Aw aye. . Course. . He nodded, then he made to leave.

The youth said: You playing football at dinner time?

Aye, you?

If the rain stops.

Aye. Tammas turned but he glanced back: Hey you got a smoke at all?

Naw.

I’ve got one, said the man. He took a packet of tipped from the top pocket of his boilersuit and flipped it across.

Great, ta — I’ve been gasping all morning! He withdrew a cigarette, flipped the packet back.

While the man was taking one for himself he gestured at the magazine and chuckled, Horny porny.

Aw. Hh! Tammas struck his match down the wall; he inhaled and exhaled.

Take a look, said the youth.

Tammas smiled. It’ll put me off my work!

Ach come on man it’s amazing stuff; manky as fuck, take a swatch!

After a moment Tammas stepped forwards, placing one hand against the wall to balance himself while bending slightly. The youth held it to the side a little for him to see. It was a colour photograph covering the two pages and showed three men sexually involved with one woman. Tammas blushed, he continued to stare at it.

The man laughed: Look at his face!

Tammas breathed out; he inhaled on the cigarette, shaking his head; he moved away. That’ll do me, he said.

He’s had enough! grinned the man.

No fucking wonder! Tammas shook his head.

The youth was grinning and turning a page. Come here and see this yin!

Naw no me man. . Tammas shook his head again. I’ll see you later.

The youth laughed.

Outside the room he nipped the cigarette and wedged it behind his ear. He returned back out into the rear yard and stood close in to the wall with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. A man in a white coat appeared suddenly at a door farther down, and Tammas was walking along and back into the factory; a brush was lying on the floor just inside the doorway and glancing quickly sideways he collected it and continued walking in the direction of the hoist.

The top floor of the part of the factory where Tammas normally worked was a small storeroom, nowadays used only for the cutting-section. One guy was in charge. Ralphie and Tammas were up helping him shift old packing crates to make space for new stock. He had left them to enter up his written work for the afternoon, but eventually he opened the window of his office and called to Tammas: Make the tea!

Tammas looked at him then at Ralphie who shrugged, and nodded in the direction of the sink. Thanks, he said. I’m a teaboy now.

Ralphie shrugged again and looked away.

During the break the three of them sat in the office in silence. Ralphie rose and he walked to a stack of parcels, began to read their labels. Eights by twelve, he said, I didnt know we still used them?

The storeman nodded. We just keep a few in case.

Mmm. . Ralphie had taken the pipe from his pocket and was opening his tobacco pouch. The storeman lighted a cigarette, returned the packet into the drawer in his desk. Did you hear? said Ralphie. Auld McCreadie, he’s retired.

The storeman inhaled deeply on his cigarette.

Couple of weeks back.

Hh.

Aye, said Ralphie. He tapped the tobacco down inside the pipebowl and got his lighter out, and flicked on its large flame, sucking on the stem while lighting the tobacco; soon it was burning and he put the lighter away and let out a big cloud of blue smoke; he returned the pipe to between his lips. He came to sit back down again.

Tammas stood up. Going to the toilet, he said, and he left the office. There was a toilet on this floor but he passed it by, heading to the back of the area where the fire-escape staircase was situated. He walked down slowly, to the landing between floors, and he gazed out the window, out over the canal to the tenement buildings beyond. After a time he lowered himself to sit on his heels, then he sat on the concrete floor, his back to the wall and legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles.

•••

The smell of cooking was quite strong when he entered the lobby. Closing the door he continued on past the kitchen to his own room. He changed his clothes then lay on the bed. He got up and tugged over the curtains, lay down again, hands clasped beneath his head on the pillow. But he rose moments later.

Margaret was alone. She was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the Evening Times.

He went to the oven and lifted the lid off one of the pots, sniffed loudly: Delicious. I’m starving Margaret! He turned the switch a little, so that the flame became higher.

Dont do that, you’ll just burn it.

Sorry, I was. . he shrugged, I was only kidding.

She nodded, gazing at the newspaper. He sat on a chair across from her, with his back to the wall, facing away from her. He said: Did you manage up the hospital?

Yes. Yes, I did. . Margaret stood up; she walked over to the oven, lifted the lid off the pot, glanced inside.

How was she? he asked, pulling the newspaper towards himself.

Fine. The usual.

He nodded. Did she know you? He shut the newspaper, turned it to the back page. Margaret was taking the lid off the other pot which had potatoes boiling in it, and she tested them with a fork. Tammas said again: Did she know you?

Margaret nodded.

Mm. That’s something.

What d’you mean?

Eh. . Naw — just the last time I was up; remember? She thought I was her brother.

Margaret returned to her chair at the table. He carried on reading for several moments before glancing up, and saying, How was work? Then he dropped his gaze and muttered: Sorry Margaret. . He looked at her: I’m sorry. The thing is. .

She had shaken her head.

Placing his elbows on the edge of the table he inclined his head slightly and rubbed the bridge of his nose between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. I was a bit short, had to put in extra for Blackpool and that. He took his hand away from his face and gazed at her: Coming off the machine Margaret, it means a drop in the wages, no bonus or nothing. Labouring rates just, that’s all we’re getting — even them that’s been in the job for years; hopeless. . Plus there’s a guy owes me a good few pounds. He was supposed to give me it on Friday there but he’s on the panel and there’s no way of getting in touch with him I mean I was thinking of going up to chap his door and that but I dont like to I mean. . he shrugged.

You kept out my road all weekend.

He sniffed.

Tammas, you kept out my road all weekend. How did you not just tell me? Her arms had been folded but now she had unfolded them. She looked away, shaking her head a little.

I wasnt keeping out your road. I was in the whole of Saturday night, it was just yous were out. I went to bed early and then got up early on the Sunday cause I had to go to Rab’s.

If you didnt have enough money all you had to do was tell me. And then what time did you come in at last night? I never even heard you! Did you come in last night!

What?

Well for all I know it was this morning. Robert didnt hear you either.

I was in the back of 2.

The back of 2?

Aye, the back of 2. . He sniffed and glanced at her: I was up at Donnie’s.

Why did you not tell me? you could’ve phoned Mrs Brady up the stair, that’s all you had to do. When I dont even know you’re coming how do I know about food? How am I supposed to know? Did you go in to work even? Or did you just lie in your bed all morning?

He looked away.

After a few moments Margaret got up off her chair and she crossed to the oven.

Eventually he cleared his throat and said, Donnie’s maw was asking for you.

Margaret nodded.

Her and Donnie’s auld man, they’re really knocking their pan in about New Zealand. She’s got lists of her furniture all made up; all ready. It’s good — what she’s done.

Margaret had been forking the potatoes. She settled the lid back on the pot and glanced at the wall-clock.

Where’s Robert?

He’s away a message, she replied after a moment.

Naw, he said, she wants to be ready, Donnie’s maw — so there’ll be no last minute panic once the date comes through.

I didnt know they were going for a while yet. . Margaret lifted a cloth from the sink and she dabbed at the side of the oven with it.

It’s just she wants to be ready, so when the time comes it means there’ll be no worries about selling the stuff. It’s good but, the way she’s made up the lists and that. She’s going to stick numbers on everything as well. She’s got it all worked out.

Margaret nodded. That’s good.

After a moment or two he turned the back page of the newspaper and began to read. But he stopped almost immediately and he got up and crossed to the cupboard, brought three dinner plates, teacups and saucers from a lower shelf, and cutlery from the top drawer. While he arranged them on the table he asked, Did you see any of the nurses? at the hospital?

Yes. . yes I did.

Which one?

O, that wee one, her from the highlands.

Tammas smiled. He had returned to the chair and was sitting with one elbow on the edge of the table, his other hand in his trouser pocket.

I know she barks at some of the poor old souls but at least she makes sure nobody takes what doesnt belong to them. Margaret smiled. And she can be cheery when she likes. Anyway, before she came to the ward it was terrible; you could hardly leave a packet of biscuits down without there was somebody pinching it. Grannie was always losing things, it wasnt fair.

Aye. Did you no say she was a gossip but?

No. Margaret shook her head abruptly. The wee highland one? No, not at all; you’re mixing her up.

Mm.

Margaret turned, her back to him; she switched on the cold water tap and washed her hands. When she had dried them and returned the hand-towel to the rail she glanced at the clock again.

Eh Margaret. . He stood up, nodded at the pots on the oven while lifting a dinner plate: Mind if I take mine the now? I’ll just eat it in the room if it’s okay. I’ve got a book I’m reading.

•••

Three men in suits had appeared on the path outside the factory door. They gazed at the canal, one of them talking and the other two listening. Then a foreman came out to join them. Tammas stepped out from the wall, he strode in their direction. He continued past them and in through the doorway. He strode on across the factory floor to the hoist but when he reached it he paused, then carried straight on up the corridor, and he made his way round to the back staircase leading to the small storeroom on the top floor.

The man in charge was sitting up by the hoist with a clipboard of papers on his lap. Tammas watched him for a time, before sidling in from the fire-escape exit, and moving in behind the large stacks of packing crates. Piles of old sacking lay in the corner. When he reached there he felt in at the bottom of some of it and brought out a couple of Readers’ Digests, and lowered himself down onto the sacking.

A while later the hoist could be heard clanking to a halt, the gates being opened. Shifting some of the higher crates a little he was able to make enough of a gap to see through. Two women from the floor below. A younger one followed them out pushing a barrow; her blue dustcoat was unbuttoned and she had a blouse on and jeans. She was pushing the barrow down towards him while the other two stayed at the hoist gates chatting to the storeman. When she reached a stack about 20 yards off she stopped, and she bent to lift a big cardboard box onto the barrow, lifting one corner only, and then sliding it on; but the weight caused the barrow to move, the box sliding back off to lie on the floor. The girl stood up. She glanced up to the others, she put her hands into the side pockets of her dustcoat and she kicked gently at the cardboard box, making a whistling sound, a tune. The two women were coming. Tammas stood back from the gap between the crates; he lowered himself down onto the sacking.

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.

•••

Once he had washed and shaved he put on the fresh shirt and his old suit. Taking the jacket off again he began peeling a couple of potatoes but stopped, he went into the front room and put on the television and lay down on the settee with his head on an arm of it. Mrs Brady lived in the room and kitchen on the landing directly above. Tammas had known her most of his life; she had been acquainted with his mother and friends with his grandmother. She rarely left the house; she would be sitting watching television, or reading maybe. Margaret did her shopping quite a lot; and Tammas too, on occasion — even collecting her pension a couple of times last winter.

Going into the lobby he opened the outside door but closed it immediately and went ben the kitchen. The potatoes lying on the draining board at the sink. His cigarettes lay on the floor next to the settee in the living room. Three of them remained. He smoked part of one then nipped it and shoved it back in the packet, and walked to the front door. He left the door on the latch before going upstairs. When Mrs Brady answered his flapping of the letter box he said: Eh Mrs Brady I was wondering if you had a ten pence bit by any chance — the electricity’s away and that. . He sniffed.

She nodded. I think so, wait a wee minute. Then she closed over the door. Back she came with her purse and she opened it in such a way that he could look inside also. I’ve got a couple, she said, and she took them out and gave them to him. Here’s another yin as well Tammas.

Probably one would be enough, he said. He made to return the other two.

Are you sure? Take them, just in case.

Well okay. Thanks. I’ll hand them back in tomorrow.

Och there’s no rush: she shook her head. As soon as you like, it doesnt matter.

Well. . thanks.

Mrs Brady smiled: And where is it the night?

He shrugged.

The dancing?

Maybe, maybe. He grinned, turned away, about to go downstairs.

And how’s your grannie?

O fine, fine.

You tell her I was asking for her. I would go up and see her if I could.

Okay Mrs Brady.

Mind and tell her now.

I will.

•••

The conductor was standing waiting for the money. Tammas passed it to him and was returned half. The conductor nodded very slightly, not looking at him, not giving him a ticket, before moving on down the aisle. Tammas stared out the window, keeping the money enclosed in the palm of his hand. The night could yet turn into something although in another way he would have preferred the actual ticket. Having this extra bit of dough was a bit of a nuisance. It left him twopence short of the minimum tote bet. Better to have had nothing but the sixty quid he was giving himself. He stuck the change into his trouser pocket. Out of this sixty he was keeping forty for his nap. The dog in question was running in the fourth and it was out of Trap 1. It was a good dog, a fast dog, and he fancied it very strongly. The other twenty quid was just for playing about with on forecasts and small single bets.

The bus was crowded; it had been standing room only downstairs. On arrival at Shawfield Stadium he sat on until everybody else had left; he strode down to the rearmost seat and from there back to the front, peering down into the corners of the floor but nothing at all was lying except a few empty beer cans and other assorted litter. The conductor was reaching to change the destination screen while listening to something the driver was saying; they both glanced at him as he came down the stairs.

He walked on past the vendors of the Greyhound Adviser, on up to the entrance where an elderly woman was sitting on a wooden stool, selling pens and pencils. He paid his money at the turnstile and was returned a programme.

Out on the track the handlers were walking the dogs for the first race. Numbers flickered slowly on the totalisator board, few bets ever being struck in earnest for this race; it usually consisted of dogs new to the track or dogs returning after injury. Form rarely existed on it. Tammas leaned on a stanchion studying the programme. Of the twenty quid he was allowing five on this race; he decided to stick it onto Trap 3. The handlers began leading the dogs into the traps and he was aware of the loose change in his pocket. An additional twopence and he had an actual bet. The hooter sounded. The hare trundled off round the rail. Some cheers from the punters. Dog 3 got beat. While the handlers were out capturing them after the finish he wandered off, his gaze to the ground. He reached the wall dividing the track from the enclosure and stared about. The busfare home was not essential. It was not a bad evening, mild. The busfare would give him a bet. Coupled with the cash returned him by the conductor he had enough for a twenty pence bet on the tote, twice the minimum. He could stick the whole lot on a dog. Or split it two way, 10 on the 2nd race and 10 on the 3rd. Or keep the 20 pence for the nap he had chosen; it would be racing in the 4th. Or a forecast, a 10 pence reverse forecast. Or even a place-only bet of 20 pence. No need even to dig out a winner, just one to finish in the first two. It was a safety first bet, that was the thing about it. And if it came up and he had the same sort of bet on the 3rd, then he might end up with something for the 4th, to stick down on his nap. The place-only bet was correct, it was the correct thing to do. And so what if the dog actually won the race instead of just running second, it would not matter, the point was to get a return, to keep getting returns. It made no difference whether it won or was second, just so long as it was placed and he could go up to the pay-out window and be given a return for his money.

He was standing amongst the small crowd directly beneath the row of bookies, checking the form for the race, studying times and weights and distances. Yet it would not matter. The dog he decided on would either be placed or not. Which dog did not make any difference. He glanced at the list again. Nothing striking about the names of the five runners. More punters had arrived and he watched them busying about the line, trying to pick off the best price about their selections. And the vet was now on the track checking the dogs. He gazed back at the punters and the bookies but there was nothing catching the interest, nothing of note. He turned and strode off towards the tote windows and joined one of the queues. There was a woman in front of him, smoking rapidly and continually glancing behind to see if the dogs were about to start racing.

He was going to back Trap 4. The dog coming out of Trap 4, this was the one. The woman left the window clutching her tote receipts.

Tammas sniffed. Trap 4 twenty pence a place, he said to the girl. She stamped out the numbers, took his money and gave him the receipt.

Trap 4.

On examining the form he saw that this dog out of the fourth trap had a good chance after all. He was glad he had gone for it. According to the form notes it had been off the course injured for some time but was now back and expected to do okay. He remembered he still had £15 out of the £20 playing about with money and decided to stick it all on. In fact he felt like sticking the other £40 he was keeping for the nap down on it as well. But no, that was wrong, that was the wrong way. The forty had to be for the nap. The quick route to going skint usually lay in changing your mind at the last minute.

The hooter. Tammas thrust the programme into his back pocket and pulled the half smoked cigarette from behind his ear, he struck a match to light it, was exhaling smoke when the traps crashed open.

He kept silent throughout the race but began nodding as the favourite came wide round the last bend to run on past dog 4 up the home straight, with this dog 4 just managing to hang on for second place from the fast finishing Trap 1.

In the large queue at the pay-out window he listened to the folk who had backed the winning forecast. He could have backed the forecast. Easy. The favourite to win from dog 4. He could have dug out that forecast no bother. The fact that he went for dog 4 a place proved it. Yet this was nothing to do with anything. What he had done was back the dog to get placed and it had got placed and he was getting a return for his money, and this was the point.

Once he had the money he went into the bar and bought a carton of bovril, carrying it to a shelf at the side of the area. Including everything he now had 57 pence. This 57 pence was good. Another 3 would see him with 60. Without the bovril he would have had 65 and with 5 pence more the round 70.

Leaving the bovril on the shelf he returned to the counter and bought a packet of crisps. This left him with 51 pence. 50 pence was not bad at all. It had come from nothing, nothing. A 50 pence bet was fine.

Along at the tote window he struck his next bet. Dog 2 50 pence a place, he said to the woman.

With the ticket in his pocket he swallowed the remains of the bovril and crumpled the crisp packet onto the floor, and left the bar. The programme was in his back pocket. But he left it there. No point even seeing if the dog stood a chance. That had nothing to do with it now. The bet was made. The 50 pence on Trap 2, no matter what. If it finished first or second he would receive cash in exchange for the ticket. He got it from his pocket and looked at it, it was green, a green ticket; 2. Trap 2, 50 pence place. A 50 pence was not bad. Even for the nap it would not have been too bad. 50 pence the nap would have been fine, it would have been alright. But no matter. It made no difference. Not at all. Nothing. There might have been no 50 pence. A mistake to even think about things like that.

The hooter.

Again he stayed silent throughout the race but he nodded, he nodded at dog 2 coming inside on the rails rounding the third bend and on round the last bend. And staying on really strong to get up and win its race on the line. Trap 2 winning the race. Trap 2 as the winner. But fuck all to do with it, fuck all to do with it. It made no difference. None at all. To have finished placed was the thing, the bet. To finish in the first two, that is what mattered, to get a return on the stake, in exchange for the cash; this is what it is about. And the next race was the fourth on the card, and the nap was going.

Dog 2 paid 2/1 on the tote a place, giving £1.50 in return for the 50 pence. And if he had backed the dog as a straight win on the tote he would have received more than four quid but so what, it was irrelevant, it had nothing to do with it — a mistake to even think it. He had £1.50 in his pocket and it had come from nothing, and that was the only point.

When it came time he made his way to the line of bookmakers, letting the 1 pence coin fall from his hand, not looking where it landed. He hovered around the crowd of punters waiting to shade the odds and finally dashed in to take the 7/2 to the whole £1.50. And that was not bad. The morning paper had forecast 5/1 for this dog but he had known such a price was out of the question. 7/2 was fine, it was good. And when he was turning to leave the area he saw one bookie scrub out the 7/2 and mark up 3’s. He nodded.

Up at the spot where he had been standing were two middle aged men. He stepped in closer, and another step, until he was in as near as he could manage, without banging into them. He was gripping the programme when the hooter sounded. And the hare trundling off on its way, collecting speed till rounding the bend and now hurtling towards the boxes, and up crashed the trap gates. Dog 1 was the nap, and it walked out its box, and he nodded, there was no chance. It had to get well off its mark to have any chance and it didnt, so it had none. There was no point even giving it a shout.

He watched the dog chasing after the pack, making up a fair bit of ground down the back straight, coming inside the dogs directly in front and eventually running on into third place. If the thing had trapped properly it would have guyed it, no danger. But it had finished third. Dog 2 had won and dog 5 was second. From somewhere behind him somebody cried: That fucking 5 dog should’ve pished it.

Tammas turned and shouted: You fucking kidding! Dog 1 was a fucking certainty — if it’d trapped it’d’ve fucking guyed it. Bastards. He shook his head and strode off and up towards the exit.

An attendant was standing there and he unlocked the door for him. Some boys were waiting outside and they glanced at the man as he closed the door.

He continued striding till beyond the car park and outside the ground he walked more slowly. Approaching the bridge he paused, taking the bookmaker’s ticket from his pocket. He began to tear it up in rectangular sections, and then scattered them over the parapet, watching them as they landed on the river.

•••

On the following Tuesday morning he rose from the bench and walked from the smoke-area, down to the short flight of steps up to the gaffer’s office. He walked up and chapped on the door, and opened it immediately. The chargehand was there, sitting on the edge of the desk. He was talking to the gaffer who was leaning back on his chair with his hands clasped behind his head. The two of them frowned at Tammas. He sniffed and said: Eh I want to leave, on Friday, I want to lift my books — I’m chucking it.

After a moment the gaffer nodded. Fine, he said.

He did not acknowledge the chargehand. He turned and went back out and down the steps. In the smoke-area he saw where he had been sitting previously, and he smiled. He nudged the man next to him: You got a spare fag at all?

The man said, Aye. And gave him one from his packet, and gave him a match.

Ta. . Tammas lighted the cigarette and exhaled, he looked across at Ralphie and winked, smiled again. Ralphie nodded.

•••

It was 9 pm and a Friday evening, and he was in a pub up the town. From there he strolled along to the dancing. The doorman scarcely glanced at him as he entered and paid his money. At this time of night females and couples were the main people present. Nobody at all was on the floor dancing. Tammas bought a bottle of beer and he carried it upstairs to the balcony. He sat at one of the empty tables, taking an Evening Times from his side pocket; he glanced at the racing results then turned to the page with the following day’s race programme. Across from him, a few tables off, sat a couple. While the girl sat with her elbows on the edge of the table the guy kept bending and kissing the nape of her neck. Eventually Tammas shifted on his chair so that he was not facing in their direction, turned a page of the newspaper; then he brought out his cigarettes and matches, but he stopped there.

John was approaching.

He was making his way over from the top of the staircase, a glass of beer in one hand and pointing at Tammas with the other, and laughing quite loudly. Ya bastard! he was saying. He put the glass down on the table and settled onto the chair opposite. So this is where you’ve been fucking hiding yourself!

How’s it going John?

Ya bastard! John laughed and shook his head. D’you know something? You’re bad news!

Tammas sniffed. He lifted his own glass of beer, sipped at it.

Naw no kidding ye man, bad news! John drank another mouthful of beer and he laughed once more. Heh you been in long? Christ — imagine finding you here!

Tammas nodded; and he turned slightly to gaze over the balcony rail, down onto the floor. A few people were now up dancing.

You should’ve told me Tammas. I’ve been wanting to start coming for ages. Same as the night I mean we’re sitting in fucking Simpson’s as usual and I says to Billy, d’you never get fucking sick of this man! Bad enough having to come every Saturday night but every fucking Friday night as well!

Tammas looked back at him, then added: Hh.

Aye, went on John. So I just ended up I got fucking up and walked out.

Did you. .

Aye. Fucking browned off man, just sitting about there all night, week in week out. . John frowned and he leaned closer to Tammas and he whispered: How the fuck do they ever expect to get a lumber man? I mean fuck sake — Simpsons!

85

Tammas chuckled.

Naw I mean even trying to get them to go up the fucking town for a change; new pubs, new scenery, the discos — anyfuckingthing!

You’ve got a point John.

They both drank from their glasses of beer. John grinned across at him. So this is where you’ve been hiding! You’re a fucking fox Tammas — see if Donnie knew!

Tammas smiled.

But what about yon lassie? Betty — what about her?

He shrugged. Ach, just passing the time. The now I mean, being up here.

Aw aye. John nodded. Are you still going with her like?

Eh. . I dont think so, no really.

Aw, aye. . John nodded again then lifted his glass and swallowed a mouthful of beer.

The queue at the bar had lengthened and he had to wait a while to be served. Everybody was having to shout their orders to be heard above the general noise. Tammas bought four bottles of beer. Back upstairs he told John, It’ll save time.

Good thinking. John took his first one and poured it into his glass. Then he leaned forwards across the table; he sniffed and whispered: See them along at the next table up from the pillar. He nodded his head in that direction and added, One of them’s got a blue blouse and black hair. What d’you think man?

Tammas wrinkled his nose. Wait a wee minute yet.

Aye okay, but I’m just saying man I mean. .

Aye but we’re no in a rush.

Naw I know that but eh — no fancy it man? Eh? they’re no that bad. I mean it doesnt matter if we get a knockback.

Tammas looked at him.

Naw I mean Christ, everybody gets a fucking knockback now and again.

I know that John; fuck sake, I’m no worried about that.

Well then, Christ, just to get started.

It’s only fucking ten o’clock.

John nodded and looked away. He lifted his glass and held it, not drinking, staring down at the people dancing below. When the song ended he continued staring down for several moments, until the next one began. He turned to Tammas: Hey man I heard you’d chucked the job?

Did you?

Aye.

Hh.

Billy was telling us the night; he met your big sister or something.

Tammas nodded.

So he said.

More people were getting onto the floor now. Some were coming from upstairs, including the two girls sitting along by the pillar. John pointed them out below and he made to say something, but Tammas nodded and stood to his feet. Okay, he said, and he grinned and rubbed his hands together.

Great! John got up at once then hesitated, indicated the beer. What d’you reckon?

We’ll chance it, come on.

The girls were dancing together, not too far from the edge of the floor, where there was now a row of tables and chairs. Tammas and John walked forward, strolling round the side of each one, and began dancing, without saying anything. The girls moved slightly from facing each other, so that they were more in the direction of Tammas and John. And John began to call to the one with the blue blouse and dark hair, attempting a conversation. Soon afterwards Tammas had edged his dancing in such a way that he and his partner were facing away from John and the other girl.

He gazed to the side of his partner’s head, towards the band, watching the female vocalist as she sang the chorus at one of the guitarists. The girl he was with was taller than John’s. She had yet to look in his direction. For a time he looked at her but still she stared elsewhere. At the end of the song he said: You staying on the floor?

She shook her head. He nodded and walked off immediately. John was behind him, tapping him on the shoulder: See mine! he was saying; Terrible! No kidding you Tammas, trying to chat her and that man like talking to a brick wall so it was, fucking murder man — what about yours?

Tammas continued on up the stairs to the balcony. Their beer was still lying on the table and nobody was sitting there. John made straight for the rail and sat down on the seat nearest, gazing over. There they are, he said. See them?

Tammas nodded but remained where he was; the position he was in it was not possible to see over. He lighted a cigarette, glanced round about, then said, How’s the time?

I’ve no got my watch on. Still early but. . John returned his attention to the dance floor, and added: Would you ask them up again?

Would I fuck.

Naw, neither would I man. There’s plenty other yins but. John sat around and raised his glass and drank the rest of the beer, and he reached for his second bottle, poured it in.

Tammas sniffed. To be honest about it John I think I’ll get going I mean I actually only came in to pass the time.

What, how d’you mean?

Naw man I just eh, came in to pass the time, I wasnt going to stay.

Tch, fuck sake Tammas.

Naw — Christ, that was how I came, just in out the rain for an hour, Trying to keep out the boozer!

John nodded. Then he stared over the parapet.

Honest man, I’m going somewhere else.

Are you?

Aye, Christ. Tammas had poured in his second bottle of beer and he drank most of it in one go. He rose, I’m just leaving this.

Where is it you’re going?

Eh it’s a club.

Aw.

Well no really a club man a kind of casino, it’s a kind of casino.

A casino? Is it that one you were telling us about already?

Aye, probably. He pointed at his glass, the beer that was left in it. I’m just leaving that. . I mean if eh. .

John nodded. He had lifted his own and was now drinking it all down. He stood up afterwards, wiping his lips. I’ll come with you, he said.

Tammas looked at him.

Naw I’m no fucking doing anything anyway man I mean it looks like it’s going to be fucking rubbish here I mean. . He shrugged and went on. See sometimes you start off bad you feel things arent going to work out I mean that fucking lassie with the blue blouse man you could tell she wasnt fucking interested. I knew it right away — no fucking point even trying man.

Fine.

•••

Rain was falling quite heavily and neither had an overcoat. They walked quickly, occasionally trotting, keeping in as close to the buildings as possible. When they arrived down the lane Tammas rang the bell next to the POSITIVELY MEMBERS ONLY notice while John remained out beyond the small entrance lobby in the shadows. He had to ring the bell again. There was an orange light contained inside it which went out once the button was pressed. He glanced at John, pursing his lips and shrugging. Then the door opened. The doorman was more than 6' tall. He said: Aye?

Hello, replied Tammas, and made to enter. But the doorman stood where he was.

Where you going son?

Well I was going to go inside. Is it alright I mean can you sign us in or what?

Sign you in? The doorman frowned. You been here before like?

Aye, a couple of weeks ago.

The doorman shook his head.

Well more than that. But I definitely got in and I’m sure it was you done the signing for me — there was three of us.

It wasnt me signed you in son, it must have been one of the ones you were with. The doorman glanced sideways along the lane. Then he muttered: Who was it you were with anyway?

Murdie McKinnon, and a guy called Rankine, I cant mind his first name.

The doorman nodded. I know wee Murdie. . He looked at John and added: Many are you?

Just the two.

Ah right you are then okay. . The man stood to the side, opening the door for them. But mind, no noise or fuck all. And you better get yourself a membership card in future.

They walked along a short corridor into a fairly narrow room where a woman was serving coffee and tea and a variety of snacks from behind a counter. Half a dozen tables with about four chairs round each stood near to the opposite wall. Mostly women were there, young women, sitting chatting or else gazing up at the large television set on a high shelf up from the counter. John had ordered coffees and two chocolate biscuits; he carried them to where Tammas was standing, and he indicated two empty chairs. No fancy a seat? he whispered.

Naw. Tammas took the coffee and the biscuit from him, headed towards the door at the top end of the room. When he laid his hand on the handle John frowned and said quietly, Tammas, no fancy sitting down in here?

Naw, no here.

John murmured, All the women and that I mean. . see that wee blonde sitting down there near the door — naw man no kidding ye but she was looking, she was looking, no kidding ye, when I was up there at the counter and that, honest man I’m no kidding ye.

Tammas nodded as he opened the door. They’re all brass-nails, he whispered. Every one of them man they’re on the game.

What?

Aye. . He held the door ajar for John to come in then closed it quietly.

The other room had been quite noisy because of the television and this room was also noisy, but the noise came from the game of cards taking place. Some twenty or so men were grouped around three sides of a horseshoe table; at the fourth side sat the dealer between his two workers, one of whom was wearing a bunnet while the other wore a sort of fedora. Several poker tables lay idle; at one of them a man sprawled, asleep, his head cradled on his folded forearms.

When they finished the snack they put in £1.50 each for their joint stake. Tammas was to play the cards. The game was chemin de fer. He stood behind the row of spectators who were standing just out from the table. He stood for more than twenty minutes. At first he replied when John spoke but gradually he stopped it and edged in closer to the table. Now that the pubs had closed it was becoming more crowded in the room. Tammas held £1 in his hand. The next chance he got he leaned across one of the seated players’ shoulders and laid it down. And the worker wearing the fedora covered the bet immediately. Tammas stepped back.

About quarter of an hour later their £3 stake was up to £8. John tapped him on the arm. He was holding another two coffees. Thought you might be a bit thirsty, he said.

Aw aye. Ta. . Tammas took the cup; he stood for a moment then he raised it to his mouth but the worker with the fedora waved him way from the table and called: Just in case you spill it son.

Tammas nodded. As he moved away from the table he muttered, I wasnt really feeling like this John.

John led the way to one of the poker tables.

Tammas lighted a cigarette and then sipped at his coffee, gazing back across at the game. John grinned and shrugged. Hey, he asked, much we winning?

Eh, about a fiver I think.

A fiver. Great, great stuff. No fancy splitting?

Tammas smiled.

Naw serious man I mean, no fancy it?

I thought you were kidding.

Christ Tammas when you think about it, Christ, we might end up losing it back again. Fiver’s a fiver I mean that’s two and half each man.

Tammas took the money out of his trouser pocket and peeled off four singles, and gave them to him. John sniffed while lifting them, he put them in his trouser pocket. Then he brought them back out. Look, he said, are you wanting to hang on or what?

Aye.

Okay then I mean. . He shrugged and returned the money.

You dont have to John, I can carry on on my tod.

Naw, he said, naw.

You sure?

Aye. Tell you what, give us a pound back; you take yours as well; so’s if we lose then we’re only losing 50p. Eh?

Good, aye. . Tammas grinned. That’s sense. He stood up and returned to the chemmy.

John was tapping him on the shoulder. It’s after 1 o’clock, he was saying, I’m going — make sure I catch the half one bus from the Square.

Okay man; if I get a turn I’ll come up your place the morrow afternoon.

Today afternoon!

Aye. . You alright I mean or do you need another couple of quid for the fare?

Naw naw, it’s okay Tammas.

You sure?

Aye.

Outside of the immediate space round the table the gaming room was deserted now; but among those present a few were spectating, mainly losers. Tammas was sitting on a seat at one of the smaller sides of the table. From a peak of £24 his money had declined to £1, and it had been more than twenty minutes since he had managed to get a bet on. The bank travelled back to him. About to let it pass he shrugged and tossed in one of the 50 pence pieces. The dealer grimaced. The worker wearing the fedora hat — his name was Deefy — turned to mutter: It’s getting a bit late for fifty pence pieces young yin. It’s just prolonging the agony.

Tammas hesitated.

A man sitting farther along smiled suddenly and pushing three singles £1 notes onto the centre of the baize said: Since you’re no everybody son.

The other worker returned the man the 50 pence piece. The dealer nodded: Fine Erskine. . right lad it’s a three pound box.

The bet was covered at once and he flicked the first card of the bank to the man called Erskine; but he passed it straight on to Tammas, face down. And the second was flicked to him directly.

The bank’s opponent asked for a card and was dealt a 10. Tammas showed a pair of 2’s and won. He won the next hand also, and the bank now had £12 going onto the third round. Erskine gave him a wink as he reached for the cards. Two 4’s. Turning them face up immediately he called: Natural.

Is a winner, replied his opponent, throwing his cards in.

The dealer collected the £24, deducting £3 house-puggy which he folded and slid through a slot on the edge of the table. Okay lads, he called, there’s twenty one quid to go; all or any part.

The previous loser quickly bankoed the sum. On receiving his cards he asked for another; he was given a 7.

Tammas was showing 6; after a moment he also asked for another card and he was dealt a 5. Aw Christ, he said.

The other man shook his head and grunted: Dont worry about it son. And he threw down his cards, a 3 and a 10 to go with his 7, which all totalled 0.

Brilliant play: laughed Erskine. Your one’s a winner kid — you did the right thing taking a card. Here. . He opened a packet of thin cigars and tossed one across the baize.

Tammas grinned and struck a match to light it.

The loser was counting a wad of notes onto the pile in the centre of the table. The dealer raised his head, he turned to Tammas: What you doing son, you wanting any money out?

Naw, it’s alright.

The dealer glanced at the loser. Okay Davie, you’ve got the bet.

When the cards had been dealt the man spread his calmly, showing two 4’s. Natural, he said.

Same. Tammas showed a 3 and a 5.

Jesus Christ!

The dealer frowned at him.

Deefy called: It’s a good paddle Davie.

Good paddle! Hh! The guy turned his head, he reached into his pocket and got out a cigarette, and lighted it.

Okay. . The dealer tapped the table then dealt the cards from the shoe. He looked at Davie who shook his head, and he turned to Tammas who spread his two cards on the baize, showing 7.

Aw for fuck sake! Davie stood up from his seat and threw in his cards. He sat back down again, put his elbow on the table and laid his chin in the palm of the hand.

The money and the cards were still lying on the baize. The dealer and the two workers had sat back on their seats and were lighting cigarettes. Eventually the dealer sat forwards, put the cigarette in his mouth and lifted the money, counted it, extracted the puggy and folded it into the slot. He glanced at Erskine.

Erskine nodded. Pass mine, he said. He smiled at Tammas. I’m passing son, it cant last forever.

Tammas shrugged and inhaled on the cigar; then he nodded and turned his head to blow out the smoke, coughing slightly. And he watched the dealer count the bank’s money into four piles, and pass three of them plus part of the other one, up to Erskine.

Okay kid, the dealer said, you’ve got fifteen quid — what you doing? Want to withdraw anything?

Tammas was staring down at the money and made no answer.

The dealer looked at him. Listen, you were only in for a sixth of what was there — half a quid to Erskine’s two and a half. As it is I’ve had to stick you in a couple of bob to make up the round fifteen.

Aye, said Deefy. You’ve got to mind there’s a puggy coming off.

Tammas shrugged. Might as well leave it all in then.

The previous loser bankoed the money immediately. Tammas won again and the man bankoed once more, on the £30. When he lost he sat staring at the money for some time, he was still holding his wallet in one hand.

Davie. . The dealer asked, What you doing?

The guy looked at him.

You wanting eh. .? The dealer nodded his head at the money on the baize.

Naw. Davie slid the wallet into the inside pocket in his jacket and got up off his seat, he walked across the floor and out of the room.

The dealer raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips; he glanced quickly at Deefy and shrugged. Then he put the cigarette in his mouth and taking the puggy from the bank he said to Tammas, You’ve got fifty four quid son.

Give me a score.

Once he had passed him it the dealer glanced round at everybody. Thirty four quid lads, all or any part.

There was an immediate rush from the punters. Apart from the previous loser nobody had managed to get a bet on since the third round of the current bank. Both workers moved quickly trying to see that those who had stuck their money down first were covered, but even so there were a few grumbles. The dealer remained silent. He sat back on his chair smoking, one hand behind his head. Then he put the cigarette in his mouth and leaned forwards, tapped the table and flicked the cards from the shoe.

The man who had made the largest bet of the punters was given the cards; and he asked for another. The dealer gave him a 2. Tammas turned his and stayed on 4 to win. He inhaled the cigar and coughed, he pulled over an ashtray and ground it out then lighted one of his cigarettes. The dealer was looking at him, indicating the money. Tammas said, Give us thirty; split five for the workers; the rest goes.

The dealer smiled. He counted the £30 swiftly and passed it over, then he gave Deefy the additional £5. Deefy nodded to Tammas. And the other worker called: Ta son.

The cards were dealt. Tammas won again and waved his hand when the dealer glanced at him. And the dealer paused a moment, gathered up the money and called: Okay lads, there’s fifty eight quid here says there’s a bet for every one of yous.

After the initial flurry of money there was a fairly quick dwindling of it. The dealer grinned: I’ll take it in coppers!

A few of the men laughed, and began digging into their pockets. One of them brought out a ten pound note, some lesser stakes were laid down; then nothing. The dealer glanced at two men who were sitting next to each other. They had not placed a solitary bet since Tammas had taken the bank. The dealer pushed the shirt cuff back off his wrist and he examined his watch, muttering, Could be the last hand this, if we dont get moving soon.

One of the pair sniffed; the other one nodded, he placed five fivers on the baize.

Pony’s a good bet, replied the dealer, and he looked round at the rest of the players. Another tenner and we go.

One of the spectators stepped forwards; his hand came out of his coat pocket and he tossed two crumpled £1 notes onto the table.

Deefy lifted them and smoothed them and he winked at the guy. Stopped raining anyway Tommy — nice night for a walk!

The guy laughed. And soon the remaining £8 was taken by different punters. And the dealer was tapping the table and calling: Okay lads, we go. .

The major bettor was given the punters’ cards. He looked at them for a couple of seconds before saying: No card.

Tammas asked for one and the dealer flicked him a 7. That’s it, said Tammas, and he showed his other two — both face-cards.

The opposition tossed in his cards and shook his head: I’ve got 7 as well!

Another good paddle! called the worker with the bunnet.

Him and his fucking paddles, muttered a man.

Somebody from behind called: You cant beat that boy.

Then Deefy said. It’s only a draw lads it’s only a draw. Good yin but! He glanced at Tammas and winked.

The dealer had folded his arms and leaned back on his chair, gazing round at everybody. The conversations going on were quite noisy but eventually those doing the talking began to stop, and to look at the dealer. He sighed and grunted, Is that us got a bit of order at last?

Once the cards had been dealt the punters’ man glanced at his and made to speak. But before he did so Tammas was upturning his own pair and calling: 9 — natural!

Deefy grinned and he lifted the cards and put them next to each other on the centre of the table. A good 9, he said.

The reaction was not as loud as on the paddle; but three men left the game immediately and a couple of others moved away to sit at one of the poker tables. The dealer opened his cigarette packet and lighted a fresh one from the burning end of the old one. He passed one each to the workers, then glanced at Tammas but closed the packet when he saw he was smoking already.

All the money and the cards were still lying in a heap towards the middle of the baize. Deefy and the other worker had moved their chairs back the way and were conducting a conversation behind the dealer.

Tammas had borrowed the following morning’s Daily Record from a man and was reading the back pages. After a bit he turned to the racing, and noticed the workers now leaning to take in the cards. They began shuffling for a new shoe. He shut the newspaper and returned it to the man.

Okay, said the dealer. Much you wanting son?

Much have I got?

Hundred and sixteen.

Tammas frowned at the money on the baize.

The dealer smiled: Want me to count it? He sniffed and began to do so immediately.

It’s alright.

But the dealer continued, sorting it into wads of £20. A hundred and sixteen it is. Much you wanting.

See what you can get on.

Okay. . The dealer paused and smiled before saying: Right you are lads, quite a bit to go now.

A few grunts greeted this. Then a voice saying: How much exactly Jake?

Eh. . The dealer glanced up. It was Erskine back.

Much is it? For a banko.

The dealer glanced sideways: You sure you dont want something out son?

Eh naw, eh what about the workers maybe? Give them the odd six quid. And the puggy as well? What about it?

Fuck the puggy! The dealer grinned and extracted six singles and passed them to Deefy. Then he smiled at Erskine. You’ve got a hundred and ten.

Erskine nodded. He had taken a thick wad of notes from his trouser pocket and began counting. But one of the two men who had lost most of the last bet suddenly stood up. Wait a minute, he cried, this is fucking ridiculous. I just done a forty there! A forty — and you’re trying to tell me I’ve not to get a chance to get my money back!

The dealer stared at him.

Fuck sake Jake!

A silence followed. Then Erskine said: Fair enough. Let them get as much on as they like — I’m no bothering.

Well it’s up to you, said the dealer. But as far as I’m concerned you’ve bankoed the bet. And a banko’s a banko in this club.

Erskine shrugged.

The other man nodded and sat down again. He and his mate counted exactly £40 out and deposited it on the baize. Deefy quickly covered it with £40 from the bank. The dealer called: Okay lads, get the money down!

And wee bets were laid and covered, some of them coin stacks which Deefy and the other worker checked through methodically. As soon as there was a pause the dealer said: Finished. That’s it.

Seventy two quid, said Deefy.

Seventy two, called the dealer.

Erskine nodded: It’s a bet.

The dealer stuck the cigarette back in his mouth and he dealt quickly, sliding the cards out from the shoe, keeping his right forefinger on each. One of the punters at the front took the cards and kept them face down, neither looking at them nor letting anyone else look at them; he passed them up to Erskine who asked for another. The dealer flipped him a 9, then he glanced at Tammas. Tammas turned his two cards over, two 2’s. Beat it, he said.

Erskine shook his head. I cant; I cant beat it. He shrugged and tossed in his cards.

Fucking hell, muttered somebody.

And somebody else sighed. Apart from that it was silent for several seconds.

Tammas put his hand in his pocket to get his cigarettes, and noticed he had one still burning in the ashtray, but it had almost burned down onto the tip. He tapped the ash off then ground it out. A cigarette landed beside his hand. It had been thrown by the dealer. Ta, he said.

The dealer nodded. He turned to the other worker and whispered something to him, and the man got up off his seat and walked ben the snacks’ room. Then he turned back to Tammas again, and he gestured at the piles of money and pursed his lips. Take it son, he said. Unless. . he glanced up towards Erskine.

You joking! Erskine smiled. No me Jake. The boy’s a machine.

The dealer nodded; he glanced briefly round at the other punters and shook his head. He pointed at the money again. On you go son. . they’re finished.

Tammas nodded.

Both the dealer and Deefy helped him tidy all the money, separating it out into the different denominations. There were a few pounds in silver coins. Tammas took the notes and left the rest lying. Eh. . he shrugged at the dealer, indicating it. The workers, eh. . he shrugged again.

The dealer nodded. He sorted out £5 in 50 pence pieces and gave it to Deefy, leaving the rest in the centre of the baize. Okay lads! He called: Okay lads. . there’s about six quid here for the first Jack, the first Jack for six quid!

Most of the previous punters and most of the spectators all returned to the table.

Tammas left his seat quickly, stuffing the notes into his trouser pocket and keeping his hand inside.

In the other room Erskine was standing chatting to the doorman and the woman who served behind the counter. The very boy, he grinned. Hey son, d’you play poker?

Just a wee bit.

Ah well that’s where I’m headed the now if you’re interested. You’re welcome to tag along.

Eh, naw, I’ll no bother. Thanks but.

Suit yourself, suit yourself. Erskine smiled. I’ll see you then, cheerio.

Tammas nodded and continued to the door. The doorman was there before him and he followed him along the short corridor.

A girl came from the Ladies toilet and she looked at him as she passed.

Thanks for letting us in, he said to the doorman.

No bother son.

This is eh. . Tammas gave him £5 and walked off but when the door shut he began trotting. And when the reached the end of the lane he started to run quite fast, not stopping till he saw a taxi for hire, and he signalled the driver.

•••

He woke up suddenly. The curtains were not drawn and the room was bright. The alarm clock had stopped. He got out of bed, crossed to the window and peered out. Quite a few folk were on the street. He turned to the cupboard, tugged on the bottom drawer. The thick wad lay in the corner beneath his socks. He took it out and counted it, threw it on the bed; he dressed in moments, grabbed the money and raced downstairs and along to the betting shop. It was approaching 1.30. The first race of the day was about to begin. Tammas scanned the board, strode to the wall to study the formpages; but when the next show of betting came through he went to the side of the counter and beckoned across Phil, the elderly man who worked there as cashier on Saturdays.

I want the second best to eighty quid, he said quietly.

Phil nodded. He walked off behind the partition to where the manager was. When he returned he accepted the money without comment. Tammas strolled to a radiator to stand. A guy he knew approached and started to chat about the race. He had stuck 50 pence on the same horse. Tammas nodded when he told him this, then he shook his head and stared at the floor. Before the race was due off he left the place and trotted along the couple of blocks to another bookie. The race was over when he arrived. The favourite had won and his selection was not in the first three. The boardman ripped the page down and stuck up the next. Tammas called: Hey what happened to the second best there?

The boardman shook his head, spat onto the floor. Never in the hunt, he said.

Tammas lighted a cigarette. Another show of betting began and he went to one of the formpages but without looking at it he turned away and left, and he hailed the first available taxi.

John was still in bed; his mother led Tammas into the living room. About five minutes later John entered, wearing a dressing gown; he slumped onto an armchair, swung his legs over its side. Tammas threw him a cigarette, gave him the burning matchstick.

John coughed on the smoke. He groaned and inhaled again. Cheer up, said Tammas, taking the wad from his pocket. He began dividing it into equal piles on the rug in front of the fireplace. . One to you and one to me, two to you and two to me, five to you and five to me. .

John’s eyelids parted more widely and he gaped at the money, sitting upright on the chair now and with his arms tensed. For fuck sake, he was saying.

. . and one to you and one to me. And Tammas continued counting. While he was doing so he started detailing the events of the night. Finally he sat back, smiling. I told you man. I knew we’d knock it off. A wee bit of patience.

John was nodding.

I’ve never felt anything like it man, No kidding ye it was fucking — Christ! You should’ve been there to see it.

John nodded. Then he frowned at Tammas for a moment. He said, Eh. . see that you were saying there man. . was that no — what you were saying, were you no saying it was more than two hundred quid?

What?

Naw I mean at the chemmy, when you won that last yin, was it no for two hundred quid or something?

Two hundred and twenty. Tammas nodded, he glanced at the two piles on the floor. By the time I gave out tips and that, and eh. . aye, I stuck a few on a fucking mule — finished third.

How much?

Eighty. Eighty quid.

Eighty quid! Eighty quid! John had sat forwards on his chair and now he sat back the way, leaning against the side. Fuck sake Tammas! Eighty quid!

Okay.

Naw I mean Christ that’s fucking — I mean it wasnt your fucking money. John sat forwards again and he pointed at the money on the floor: Fifty two and a half quid each you’re saying?

Aye, fifty two and a half each, aye.

Fuck sake.

What?

What! Christ sake Tammas it wasnt your fucking money to stick on a horse, it was mine, it was the two of us, it wasnt just fucking yours — I mean that should be a fucking hundred I’m getting. I know it was you that won it and all that, but eighty quid on a horse! A tenner aye but eighty! I mean that’s fucking. .

Tammas looked at him. Then he shook his head and he bent to lift one of the wads which he folded and thrust in his trouser pocket. He walked to the door. I’ll see you, he said.

Tch Tammas, wait a minute.

Nah.

Och come on for fuck sake! John was off the armchair and coming towards him with his hands raised palms upwards.

Naw. Tammas continued on down the lobby. I’ll see you later, he said and he opened the outside door and stepped out and closed it behind himself immediately.

•••

Two guys were sitting on the second bottom step of the flight up to the labour exchange, one held a bottle of wine and was wiping his lips when Tammas got out of the taxi. He paid the driver. They watched him as he approached, and continued watching him as he stepped roundabout, and on up into the place. He joined the queue at his box number, taking the newspaper from his side pocket and unfolding it.

When it came his turn to sign the clerk told him nothing had come through yet and asked if he wanted a B1 form for the social security office.

No, ta.

Along the street he met Brian McCann, a regular from Simpson’s who was heading down to the job centre. It was crowded inside. McCann went directly to the vacancy board while Tammas walked over to the thick, upholstered seats near one of the interviewer’s desks and he sat there reading the newspaper. McCann called him eventually and they left. On the pavement McCann muttered, Fuck all — unless you want to count Welwyn Garden City.

Hh. Tammas gave him a cigarette and paused to strike a match.

They’re wanting electricians but. McCann smiled briefly; he bent to take a light; he exhaled. Aye, I’ll tell the wife to pack this afternoon.

Tammas grinned. He stopped walking at the bus stop but McCann hesitated. Dont worry about it, said Tammas, patting his pocket.

McCann shrugged. He nipped his cigarette and stuck it behind his ear.

Tammas was pointing to one of the day’s runners on the racing page of the newspaper. That Mint Julep, he said, I fancy it quite strongly.

Mm, aye.

If I mind right it won a handicap up at Haydock a month or so ago, eh?

I think so. McCann nodded, looking up the road. He brought the half cigarette from behind his ear and gestured with it to Tammas who handed him the box of matches. Ta. . eh. . He sniffed: Eh Tammas, any chance of a pound till the weekend?

Aye Christ fuck here. Tammas got one out and gave him it. Course, dont be daft.

Naw it’s just for a packet of fags and that.

Christ. Tammas shook his head. Not at all man, hh, a pound! He inhaled deeply, looked back at the racing page. Naw, he said, I think I’ll leave them alone the day — maybe go to the pictures or something, stay out the road.

McCann chuckled. He cleared his throat and spat into the gutter. No seen Billy this morning?

Naw, I waited for him as well; must’ve slept in — unless he signed early or something.

They dont usually allow you to — fucking strict about things like that; in case you’ve got a casual or something.

Aw aye.

Which in his case is fucking right anyway! McCann laughed: Lucky wee bastard so he is, I wouldnt mind the chance of marking a board myself!

Trouble is he’s no lifted a full fucking wage since he started!

Tch, is he still punting? I told him to screw the fucking nut about that. I mean a job like he’s got! You’d just wind up working for nothing if you werent careful.

That’s what he’s doing. He’s no backed a winner for weeks.

Mad! McCann shook his head, he looked back up the road. There was a bus in sight. Come on we’ll walk, he said.

What?

Mon we’ll walk. .

Walk?

Aye. McCann upturned the collar of his jacket and set off without further comment.

Okay.

They walked steadily. After ten minutes a drizzle started and they quickened the pace. When they approached the corner of the street where Simpson’s was Tammas said, Fancy a pint?

Eh — I’ve to meet the wife at the Post Office.

You sure?

Aye.

Honest?

Aye. Fuck sake. McCann was frowning at him.

Naw I mean if it was just cause of the dough and that. .

Naw.

Tammas nodded.

McCann continued on by himself.

•••

I bumped into that girl earlier on.

What was that?

Margaret shook her head. You never told me you’d stopped seeing her.

Are you talking about Betty?

Well I didnt know you were seeing anybody else!

Mm. . Tammas looked away. His cigarette was lying smouldering in the ashtray; he puffed twice on it, before stubbing it out and swallowing what was left of his coffee. He returned his attention to the television.

I dont think it’s right.

He made no response.

Tammas, I dont think it’s right. Surely you could at least see her and tell her if you dont want to go out with her. I mean she was upset the girl, it’s no fair.

Margaret, God sake.

Well you dont treat people like that.

He turned his face to her: Like what? I’ve no done anything.

Tch! You walked away and left her standing in the middle of the street.

Did she tell you that?

Yes, who else? you never say a word.

Tammas sniffed.

Did you?

What?

Just leave her? in the middle of Renfield Street?

Look Margaret I mean what is this at all. . He resumed watching the television.

After several seconds she said: Well will you at least see her?

He nodded slightly.

Really?

I was going to anyway.

Were you?

Margaret, God sake.

Well if Robert had ever treated me like that!

Like what? I mean Margaret. . He groaned and got up off the settee. Shaking his head he grabbed his cigarettes and matches from the coffee-table and he frowned at her while passing on his way ben the room.

•••

In Simpson’s bar Auld Roper was scowling at McCann. That’s us having to avoid a granny! he said, A granny!

Ach stop your moaning for fuck sake. Shuffle the doms. Anyhow ya silly auld cunt ye, if you hadnt hung on to that double blank we wouldnt fucking be in this fucking position. McCann glared at him and raised his pint glass to his mouth, sipped at the lager. He glanced at Tammas and winked: Eh? Want to swop mates?

Ho!

It’s they auld yins, laughed Billy, they never fucking learn!

Never fucking learn! What you fucking yapping about? Auld Roper shook his head: The luck yous two are carrying! Jesus Christ Almighty I wish yous’d fucking fill in my coupon — eh! Lucky pair of. .! He sniffed and reached for his tumbler.

Skill, said Tammas.

Skill! Skill! That’s a bloody good yin right enough. Eh McCann? D’you hear him? Skill for fuck sake! He wouldnt know what skill was if it jumped up and punched him one on the fucking chin!

The other three laughed.

Come on, shuffle the doms!

It’s your turn, replied McCann.

Auld Roper turned to him: I’m going for a fucking pish — if it’s alright with you that is. . And he moved his chair backwards, rising with the aid of his stick. Tammas also got up and went to the bar to order a round. The argument had resumed by the time he carried the pints across. Auld Roper had also returned; he grinned at him and pointed at McCann. He’s away in the fucking cream puff! Imagine that? At his time of life.

My time of life! Ya auld cunt, what you blethering about!

The elderly man shook his head; he leaned back the way to put his hand into his side pocket and bring out his cigarettes. He took one out, lighted it, put the packet away again. McCann was frowning at him. So generous, he said, so fucking generous.

Well what am I supposed to do! Hand them round the bloody pub!

I’m just after buying you a pint! said Tammas.

Auld Roper looked at him. I said thank you. . His gaze was on the dominoes he had lifted; he was sorting through them, the cigarette in his mouth, his eyelids blinking occasionally to avoid the smoke. Then he muttered, This is a terrible hand this. Ah well McCann, prepare yourself for a granny, we’ve no chance!

Lying auld bastard, said Billy.

I’m no lying son; the worst hand I’ve seen for twenty years — tell you something but, we’ll still fuck yous! Eh McCann?

Shut up and play your doms.

Aw give us peace ya crabbit swine ye!

Billy said to Tammas: Just let them fight among themselves.

Tammas smiled. He had been studying his own dominoes. He laid them on the table and ripped open the cellophane on the new cigarette packet, offered it about. Then the game continued. Towards the close McCann put the two pieces he had left on the edge of the table. He waited a moment before saying, That’s me finito, no fucking point.

You have to play it out, said Tammas.

McCann was staring at Auld Roper: How come you cut the fives? A simple question, there you are. I mean you must’ve fucking known I was holding the double. You must’ve, surely?

Auld Roper drank beer.

A simple question, come on.

Auld Roper looked roundabout and began to whistle quietly between closed teeth, then he studied his own dominos. And Billy said to McCann: You’ve got to finish the game.

I’m giving yous it, I’m surrendering.

Surrendering fuck all! shouted Auld Roper. There’s two of us here! Just play your doms like a man. Come on!

I’m chapping ya fucking pest.

Chapping? Hh. Might’ve known, it’s all you’ve done all morning.

Tammas was next in line and he played a domino, followed by the elderly man then Billy. Back to McCann who banged the board with his fist, causing several pieces to jump out of order. Chapping, he said.

You’ve no even looked, muttered his partner.

I dont have to fucking look, I know what I’ve fucking got.

Ach! Auld Roper shook his head and he threw his dominoes onto the table. I’m no fucking playing!

McCann laughed.

Aye, that’s all you’re good for. You’re a joke ya cunt. First granny I’ve suffered in years and it just had to be with you.

Ho, listen to that! McCann glanced at the other two. The trouble with this auld cunt is he’s fucking senile.

Billy had turned their dominoes face up and he said: Yous were beat anyhow. . He started shuffling them.

Aye, said Tammas, tapping a finger on the edge of the table. And we’re still waiting for our ten pence.

Ten pence! What d’you mean ten pence? That game was a bogey. Pub rules son, if a game doesnt get finished all bets are cancelled. Eh McCann?

Aye, course. Tell you what but we’ll give yous a double or clear.

Aye, said Auld Roper, starting to shuffle the domino pieces. Twenty pence or clear. That’s just fair.

Cheating bastards, said Tammas. He leaned forwards and helped the other shuffle.

But Billy said: I better get going to my work — only half an hour to the 1st race. . He raised the beer to his mouth, glanced at Tammas. You coming with me or what?

Eh. . he shrugged, might as well. Naw, fuck it, on second thoughts.

Wise man, said Auld Roper.

Billy was nodding. He began swallowing down the beer, getting up off his seat.

I’ll see you the night, added Tammas.

•••

He was one of the last to enter the dressing room. He sat down immediately on the end of the bench, just inside from the door. Most of the team had been playing the other time he had come and a couple nodded to him. Donnie was injured and unable to play; but he was assisting the man in charge. The two of them arrived later, carrying in the big travelling bag between them. They distributed the jerseys, stockings and pants to each of the team. Tammas was thrown the number 2. The guy sitting next to him asked: You Donnie’s mate?

Aye.

Paul’s the name.

Tammas.

Tammas?

Aye. . he leaned down to take off his shoes and socks, leaving his cigarette balanced on the edge of the bench. Then dragging deeply on it he stubbed it out and undressed quickly. Members of the team were heading to the door now, laughing at something, the studs on their boots making skliffing sounds across the concrete floor. Somebody pushed the guy in front and he lurched forwards, and Tammas had to jerk sideways to avoid being struck into. One of the team cried: Foul, referee!

Right yous! The man in charge said, No wanting any blooming injuries before we get out onto the park!

The door banged open and shut and open and shut, rocking on its hinges.

Noisy bastards, muttered Paul.

Watch the language! called the man in charge. It’s Mathieson reffing!

A few groans in reply to this.

Tammas waited for Donnie. The two of them followed out the man and just before leaving the building he passed Donnie a cigarette and whispered: Half time. .

Donnie palmed it at once. Then he pointed to Tammas’s right boot. Its lace was trailing.

The wind was quite strong and he knelt on the gravel path. It had been raining earlier, a few puddles had gathered here and there. He knotted the laces and walked after Donnie. He had begun to shiver, and soon his teeth were chattering uncontrollably. He turned side on into the wind as he went, clenching the cuffs of each sleeve in his fists. There was a game of football in progress, the average player seemed about 14 years of age. He hunched his shoulders and folded his arms, watching the play while walking.

Donnie stopped to wait. You’re chittering!

Aye well it’s fucking freezing.

No that much man it’s nerves.

Is it fuck nerves.

Aye it is! Donnie grinned. Dont worry but — it’s supposed to be a good sign!

Fuck off.

Keep moving, get the blood going.

Tammas glared at him but he started trotting, keeping his arms folded, his shoulders still hunched up. When he reached the field they were due to play on he slowed to a walk, and he halted near the 18 yard line. The ball came towards him and he attempted a first time shot at goal but miskicked and it went bouncing off onto the neighbouring pitch. While it was being collected he turned his back to the others; he began jumping on the spot, fists clenched on the cuffs of each sleeve again; his teeth resumed chattering and he was making loud shivering sounds.

In the centre circle the referee now stood with a ball tucked beneath one elbow. The captains were with him, one calling the toss when the coin was flipped into the air. The other team won it and their captain chose ends, selecting the one opposite where the teams were now positioned; this meant each set of players having to walk down to the other half of the field. Tammas passed their number 11, he looked to be well over 6 feet tall and was very skinny, his socks seemed scarcely to reach above his ankles.

Soon the whistle was blown and the ball kicked off. One of the opposition lunged at it, booted it high into the air. The ball travelled right down and over the touchline for a goal kick. When it had been positioned the keeper turned his back to measure the run then he turned sharply and signalled to Tammas and kicked the ball to him. He raced in to trap it but was a yard short in meeting it, it canoned off his knee. He chased after it, just failing to stop it crossing the line for a throw in.

While one of the other team’s players gathered the ball Tammas looked for the number 11 and marked him. When the throw was taken the ball was shied to the tall fellow and he tried to flick it on as he turned but Tammas was right behind him and his studs caught in the guy’s sock, taking the foot from under him and he went crashing down, the ball returning out for another throw in. Tammas reached to help him up but he shook off his hand and muttered: That was fucking ridiculous.

I didnt mean it, replied Tammas.

The winger ignored him; he was rubbing the side of his back and shaking his head.

Tammas walked to his side, almost behind him completely, his hands on his hips and breathing quite harshly. The ball was shied in almost the same way as the last time but just as the winger trapped it Tammas stuck his boot between his feet and managed to deflect it out for a further throw in. The winger grunted unintelligibly; he strode down the park some 20 or so yards, keeping nearby the touchline. Tammas went after him. The winger stared away from him, keeping his gaze to the player shying the ball, then he signalled to him in some way Tammas was not able to see. And the ball arrived about 3 yards short. As the winger moved forwards to get it Tammas slid in from behind, upending him. The guy landed back the way, right on top of Tammas; he rolled off at once. Fucking hell, he cried, I wish you’d keep out the fucking road.

What you talking about!

You’re fucking. .! The winger shook his head and trotted off down the touchline.

Tammas trotted after him. But this time the player taking the throw in shied the ball towards the middle of the park. From the touchline Donnie called: No bother Tammas!

Tammas made no response. His breath was coming in short gulps. He coughed to clear his throat and spat while breathing out. He put his hand to his chest and coughed again. The ball was with the forwards in his team and he set off trotting as far as the halfway line where he stopped and looked on. The ball had gone for a goal kick. The opposing left back booted it out and down the middle, where it was booted straight into the path of the big left winger who raced onto it at once, arms flailing and head downwards. Tammas was across to meet him immediately. Some yards from him the winger looked up but he kept on running as though to go right over the top of him but at the last moment he flicked the ball inside and made to carry round Tammas on the outside but Tammas went in the same direction and took the full force of the winger crashing into him. They both fell heavily and Tammas lay winded for quite some time.

The referee had blown for a foul against him. The man in charge came on with Donnie and soaked Tammas’s neck and forehead with a wet sponge. Unlucky there son, he was saying.

Tammas nodded, easing his breathing as Donnie placed his hands on his chest and counted slowly. When the man had returned to the touchline Tammas gasped: I’m fucked.

Donnie shook his head. You’ll be alright man, just get your second wind.

Tammas looked at him; then he moved his head to see the big winger hobbling into position for the free kick. Donnie helped him to his feet before returning to the touchline. Tammas walked after the winger, studying his right thigh as he went; it was bruised quite noticeably and some gravel seemed to be stuck in it.

The winger had his hands on his hips, he did not look in Tammas’s direction, keeping his attention on the player taking the throw in.

The ball was shied to the rear and one of the opposition struck it high into the air, away to the far wing.

At half time he lay at the touchline with his hands clasped behind his head, a few yards away from the rest of the team. Donnie handed him the cigarette but he had no matches and Donnie had none either. He got up, he walked down to the other team; one of their supporters was smoking; Tammas received a light from him.

When he returned the guy called Paul passed him a piece of orange and asked, How’s it going?

Ah okay.

Quite a hard game.

Aye.

Paul grinned at the cigarette: Give us a drag eh?

Tammas handed him it then he lowered down to sit on his heels, he ate the orange.

Donnie came over. How you doing?

Tammas shrugged.

That winger’s no going near you now!

Naw.

See if we can keep it nothing each. .! Donnie laughed briefly. They’ll be asking you to turn professional!

Hh. Tammas turned his head, glanced at the other player who had a last puff on the fag before giving him it back.

•••

He was limping slightly when he arrived in the lounge bar that evening. Rab and Rena and Betty were sitting waiting on him. Betty smiled and pointed at Rab: That’s the two of you — he hurt his knee!

Aye, said Rab.

Tammas grinned. He remained standing, his hands on the edge of the table. I saw your result in the paper — hard lines.

You no sitting down? asked Betty.

Eh. . he frowned. We dont have that much time.

Rena laughed: I’m really excited!

So she is! chuckled Rab. Then he glanced at his wristwatch: Sure you cant have a pint?

Eh. .

Go on, said Rena. I feel like another martini. So does Betty.

Aye okay then.

Tammas had sat down on the spare seat beside Betty but when Rab rose to get the drinks he went to the bar with him. Thanks for coming, he said.

Aye, it’s a real chore.

Naw man, serious.

Dont be fucking daft.

Tammas sniffed. I’ll just have a half pint. .

Rab looked at him. The barmaid was serving someone else and he had yet to give the order. We dont have to have one at all, he said.

Ah well. .

Rab turned, strolled to the table: Okay girls, let’s go.

We no having another drink?

Tammas shrugged. We’ll get one at the track.

O! I didnt know they had a bar, said Betty.

Aye, Christ, all the mod cons!

At the large carpark outside the stand the taxi stopped and a wee boy pulled open the door. Ta son, said Tammas and tipped him 10 pence. When he had paid the driver he guided the others across to the entrance, buying two Advisers on the way, one of which he gave to Rab. He bought two pencils from the old woman at the turnstiles. She’s a millionaire, he said, but never mind!

He went through the gate after them, pushing Rab on to stop him paying the entrance money. I told you, he said, I’m getting it.

Dont be daft man.

Naw, replied Tammas. He passed the money across the counter to the man and received the four programmes in return.

In the upstairs lounge bar overlooking the track they managed to squeeze in at a table close by the tote grid. He handed £2 to Betty. This is to have a go — you and Rena.

I’ve got my own money! answered Rena. She grinned pointing at Rab: His!

Well I’m no putting two pound on a dog! Betty said, Definitely not!

Tammas smiled. It’s to last you the whole bloody night!

Heh. I thought we were only staying till the 5th race? Rab was frowning.

We are. Tammas sniffed; he brought out his cigarettes, lighted one.

I would stay later, said Rena after a moment.

Naw, said Tammas, I’m no bothering.

Rab shook his head: Christ I’m no bothering either man, whatever you like. .

Tammas grinned. Probably be skint by then anyhow!

It was not until the 4th race that he left the lounge. He had been betting in small amounts only, and doing it via the tote. But he had one he quite fancied now and he wanted to see how it figured in the ring. While he stood watching the bookmakers as they watched the punters and each other he suddenly spotted Deefy, the worker from the club; he was wearing the fedora hat, standing amongst the crowd below the row. And then he strode away to the side, to the second last bookmaker, and he handed him what looked like a thick wad. And the bookmaker accepted it without returning Deefy a receipt, and scored out the 5/1 price of the 2 dog. The other bookmakers were offering 4/1. But instead of marking up 4/1 the fellow left it blank, and then marked in 3/1. Immediately Tammas trotted up to the nearest bookmaker and backed the 2 dog at 4/1.

The dogs were being loaded into the traps as he left the betting enclosure and he started running up the stairs. In the lounge Rab was standing near to the window to see the race. Tammas joined him.

Then the hooter sounded and the lights round the stadium were extinguished, leaving the track brightly lit. When the hare flashed past the traps Tammas said, On you go the 2 dog!

Rab frowned at him. I thought you were backing 5?

Naw.

They watched the race, dog 2 just failing to catch the favourite, the dog coming out of Trap 3. Tammas shook his head and tore his ticket into pieces.

I would probably have backed that! said Rab. But I let you chat me onto the 5 dog!

Tammas shrugged.

At the table Betty was laughing and holding her tote tickets in the air. Tammas! I got it! Number 3!

So she did! laughed Rena.

Hh. . Tammas nodded. Did you back it as well?

No, tch.

What about you Tammas? What did you take?

Eh. . a mule.

A mule!

What yous wanting to drink?

The bar was busy. Once he had shouted his order to one of the barmaids he concentrated on the form given in the Adviser. His nap for the night was going in this the 5th race. He had selected it that morning, as soon as he had seen the Daily Record. When he carried the drinks to the table Betty asked for a loan of the Adviser and she read it for a few moments. Rab grinned at her. You better give Tammas your tip!

Betty laughed. As a matter of fact, she said, I’m going to. Tammas — number 5. Real Sunshine.

Real Sunshine! Rab nodded. That’s what I fancy myself!

What d’you think Tammas? asked Rena.

Eh. . It’s got a chance.

What one do you want to win?

The one I’m backing.

The one you’re backing?

Rab said, In other words he’s no telling you!

O thanks a lot Thomas.

Sorry, naw, it’s nothing personal.

I’m glad to hear it!

Tammas lifted his glass and sipped at the beer, then inhaled on the cigarette he was smoking and muttered: Actually I’m going to back the 1 dog.

Honest?

Aye.

Well well well, the 1 dog eh. . Rab gazed at the race in his Adviser.

Can I do yours with mine? asked Betty.

Course.

Aw good. Betty took the purse out of her handbag and gave him 40 pence. Can you do it for me?

Course, aye, 5 and 1 you want — fine, I’ll reverse it too.

Betty looked at him.

The forecast, I’ll reverse it for you. . Tammas had got up from the chair and he indicated Rab: He’ll tell you what I mean. I’ve got to go down and eh. . He sniffed; he walked away quickly but Rab came after him. And once they were outside he muttered, Hey Tammas you okay?

What, aye, what d’you mean?

I dont know, you seem to be fucking — a bad mood or something.

Och naw it’s no that. While they continued on downstairs he added, To be honest with you Rab I’m just eh. . Betty and that. . He shook his head. I dont know man I’m just eh. . My leg’s a bit sore as well.

Aw aye. .

Tammas glanced at him. Then he gave him the 40 pence: You stick it on for me eh? I want to punt 1 dog with the bookie.

He left Rab outside a tote window, and moving in towards the centre of the crowd grouped beneath the row of bookmakers he gripped the notes he had left and stood waiting. The odds against his nap winning the race were 5/2. Then he saw one of the bookies mark it out to 3/1. But he continued to stand there. Gradually the crowd thinned as the time of the race approached. He turned and left the enclosure, the money still in his pocket.

The hooter sounded while he was climbing the stand steps to the lounge bar.

He stopped, halfway up; and he nodded as he watched the dog he had napped win comfortably. He lighted a cigarette. Out on the track beneath the big totalisator board the handlers were catching the dogs to take them back to the kennels. The punters surrounding him were discussing the result and how the race had been run. He nodded slightly, and walked downstairs and along, and into the bar beneath the stand. He ordered a bottle of beer, stood there drinking it steadily.

Rab was at the tote pay-out window when he returned upstairs to the lounge. Your woman’s caught the forecast! he called, grinning. Well done man! Good nap!

Tammas nodded. He carried on across to the table and sat down, giving his attention to the Adviser. Betty and Rena were smiling at him. Aye, he said, eventually. Well done Betty! Good forecast.

Ninety three pence.

Great.

Did you win much?

Eh. .

Rab was approaching.

. . aye.

Aw good, replied Betty.

And it won so easy, said Rena.

Tammas smiled, getting up from the chair, folding the Adviser and sticking it into the side pocket of his jacket. Anyway, he said, time we were heading off.

We’ll stay if you like.

Naw, I’m no bothering, let’s go.

Rab looked at him.

While we’re ahead. .

They went to a lounge bar in the centre of the city where a band performed but it was packed and the amplifiers seemed to be full on. At Tammas’s suggestion they left for a quieter place.

When the last bell had gone the two couples shared a taxi as far as Betty’s close and she and Tammas got out, waved to the other two as the taxi moved off. There was a bit of fog around and when they breathed out it came as steam. Betty linked arms with him. You should be wearing a coat, she said.

Ah I’m okay. . he hunched his shoulders, keeping his hands in his trouser pockets. Through the close they walked, the glare of the light reflecting the heavy condensation on the walls.

I enjoyed the night, Betty said.

Did you.

An experience. Quite exciting.

On the first landing she lagged behind, gazing out the window, over the backcourt which was in total darkness. It’s really quiet, she murmured.

He nodded, he put his arm round her shoulder and she turned immediately, and they kissed. When they broke it off Betty was shivering and he drew her in closer. You cold? he said.

She nodded.

Never mind, a nice hot fire up the stair!

She nodded again.

Okay?

Yes.

He stepped back from her, gazed at her eyes, taking out his cigarettes at the same time, and he lighted one.

I wish you could come in the house, she said.