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Ray

I said I felt about as Lucky as I'd ever felt. Being Lucky.

So he said, smiling, he felt about as Jack as he'd ever been, or was ever going to be. About as sweet jack all.

Then he looked at me and I thought, just for a second, He aint saying it's down to me? Like when they first brought him in here, before the op, before he knew, and I felt everyone looking at me sort of special, like I was the man of the hour. Ray'll swing it, Ray'll fix it. All Jack needs is a dose of his old mate Raysy. And while we're at it, we'll take a bet on the surgeon doing a top-notch job.

I thought, It's a terrible burden having all this luck.

But he looks at me as if he can see how he's putting me on the spot, when it's not me who ought to feel on the spot, it's him. And he says, like he's shaking his head at what I'm thinking, 'I've come to terms, Raysy,' slow and firm. He says it again as if I haven't heard. 'I've come to terms. It's Amy I'm thinking of.'

Which makes me hold my eyes, wide open, on his as if I'm lost if I so much as blink.

He says, 'I've come to terms, but I aint squared up with Amy.' I look at him. I don't move an eyelid. 'I don't want to leave her in the lurch.'

I say, 'It's not your fault that you—'

He says, 'It's not that. I aint played straight with her.'

I look at him. He looks at me.

He says, It's money I'm talking about. We was all set up to buy that place in Margate, weren't we? Westgate. And the whole world thought this was cos Jack Dodds had finally seen the light and decided to start a new life. And everyone thought it was a crying shame that just when he did, he finds out there aint going to be no more life.'

I say, 'Including me, Jack.'

He says, 'Including you. Including Amy. Except what everyone don't know is I had to sell up or fold up. That's why I did it. What the whole world don't know is I took out a loan to save the shop five years ago, and it comes up in a month. Wouldn't have been no problem. I sell the shop, sell the house, buy a little bungalow in Margate, a little tinpot bungalow, and I scrape through on the difference, just about. Except now it's all off, aint it? All bets off, eh?'

He looks at me like I should know best.

I say, 'Why not've sold up five years ago and paid yourself what you went and borrowed?'

He says, 'Cos then I had to make a living, didn't I?'

I look at him.

He says, 'I'm a butcher, Raysy. That's what I am.'

I keep looking at him. It's him and it's not him. It's like he's been hiding. He says, 'It's something I aint got to do now, make a living.'

I say, 'So you never - saw no light?'

He says, 'No, Raysy.' I don't believe him. 'And no new life, eh? Not for me.'

He looks at me.

I say, 'How much?'

He says, 'Seven large ones when I took it on. Now they'll want nearer twenty.'

He sees me whistle silently.

He says, 'We're not talking bank managers. It was a special sort of a loan. A private loan.'

I say, 'Not Vince?'

And he laughs. He tips back his head and cackles so it hurts him and I find myself reaching for a paper bowl, I find myself looking at his call-nurse button. 'Vince?' he says, half choking. 'Vincey wouldn'tVe lent me money if I was dying, would he?'

I say, 'So who?'

He says, 'Vincey wouldn'tVe forked out for the shop, would he? He wanted me to sign on at the supermarket.'

'So who?'

'One of his mates, from the early days. One of his -business pals. Rough stuff, you understand.'

He looks at me like he's in for a scolding.

I say, 'You'd've been better off taking a long shot on a two-year-old. You'dVe been better off coming to Uncle Lucky.'

Even as I say it I see which way the wind's blowing.

He says, 'Would've been a big 'un, Raysy. Where would I have got the ante? But it's funny you mention that.'

He looks at me, starting to smile, so I nip in quick. I say, 'You told Amy about all this?'

He shakes his head.

I say, 'You going to?'

He says, 'That's a tricky one, aint it? What I'm hoping is I won't ever have to, there won't be no need. It's funny you mention her.'

He pokes with his finger at the empty paper bowl I've been holding all the while. He says, 'You look like you're begging, holding that.'

I put the bowl back where I got it.

He says, 'I don't know what she's going to do. I mean, when I'm— She might want to stay put. She might want to go ahead with that bungalow anyway. It aint kiboshed yet, it could still go through. Either way, I don't want no debt-collector knocking on her door. I don't want her finding out she's got twenty grand less than she thought she had.'

It's like he wants me to tell him the solution.

He says, "That's a nest-egg, aint it? Twenty grand. That's what they call a nest-egg.'

I say, 'So, for all she knows, it was just you seeing the light too. It was just you going for a new life. Glory hallelujah.'

He looks at me as if I'd know the answer to that too.

He says, 'Some things are best not known.'

I say, 'Why Margate?'

He says, 'I don't want to leave her in the lurch. I want to see her right.' And his eyes shut suddenly, the lids drop in that heavy way, as if it's more than he can do to keep them open, like he's nipped out for a moment without saying and left me guessing.

Then he opens his eyes, as if he never knew he'd shut 'em.

I say, 'So what do you think she's going to do?'

He says, 'Depends. Maybe you'd know what she's going to do.'

I look at him.

He says, 'I need a winner, Raysy. I need a winner like I've never needed.' He lifts his right arm slowly off the bedcover. What with the tubes going in it, it looks like he's not lifting it but it's being lifted, like the arm of a puppet. 'And I've got the ante this time.'

He moves his hand towards the bedside cabinet and opens the little drawer, the drawer with his few odds and ends in it. His hand shakes. He struggles with the drawer and I half go to help him but I know it wouldn't do to help him because there aren't many things he can still do for himself.

He takes out his wallet. I've never seen Jack Dodds' wallet look so fat.

He says, 'Here, have a look inside. Back compartment.'

He hands it to me. I take it and flip it open while he watches me. I don't see no photograph. There's a great wodge of notes.

He says, "There's a thousand smackers. Eight hundred in fifties and a bunch of twenties.'

I look. I rub the top note with my thumb. I say, 'You've got a thousand, cash, in this place?'

He says, 'Who's going to take it, Raysy?' He looks around at the other beds. 'These poor bastards?'

I say, 'So where did you—?'

He says, 'Be telling, wouldn't it? Take it out. Count it.'

I shake my head. 'I believe you.'

He says, 'Never my strong point, was it?'

'What?'

He says, 'Sums. Rithmetic. Never had it up here like you.' He gives his head a little lift like he's trying to nod at his own skull. He says, 'Take it out anyway. I need a winner.' He looks at my hand on the wallet. He says, 'It's Doncaster coming up, aint it? First of the flat.'

I think, And all things being normal, I'd be there.

I say, 'It's a thick 'un, Jack, a thousand quid to make twenty. A thick 'un.'

He says, 'It's a thick 'un.'

I say, "And if I put it on the wrong nag?'

He says, 'But you won't, will you? You can't. Amy needs it.'

I think, Your money or your life.

He says, smiling, 'Anyway, just think of it as the price of a camper. A thousand quid, remember? But you didn't want to sell it, did you?'