by Judy Nunn
He was about to set off on his newspaper hunt, but that was when Madge made her approach.
‘Oskar,’ she said, ‘got a moment? Can I have a word?’
Oskar nodded and, together with his squeaking trolley, accompanied her to one of the park benches where they sat side by side and she told him about her scratchy win.
‘Look,’ she said, dragging it from one of the deep pockets of her old grey cardigan, ‘five hundred dollars, would you believe that! I’m going to the newsagents first thing tomorrow to cash it in.’
‘Congratulations,’ he said, pleased for her but wondering what all this had to do with him.
Then Madge went on to tell him about Criminal Johnny’s brainwave.
Oskar didn’t interrupt once, let her continue without saying a word, and Madge found herself getting quite carried away.
‘Everyone’s so sure you’ll win, Oskar,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘I’ll put up the entry money, and I’ll buy you a new outfit too if you like. Hey, that’s not a bad idea, is it,’ she said, warming even further to her theme. ‘We’ll scrub you up and make you a star. I might even buy a new outfit for myself,’ she added with a laugh.
He appeared to be listening but still hadn’t said anything. Which was surely a good sign, Madge thought. She’d expected he might back away right from the start.
‘So come on, Oskar, what do you say,’ she urged. ‘You’ll be able to make a heap of money for yourself, and I’ll shout a party for everyone. I’ve promised Sal champagne and Benny party pies.’
But inside Oskar was shrinking from the prospect. And Lila wasn’t helping.
‘Say yes, Oskar,’ Lila was urging. ‘You know you can win. You’re playing better than ever, my love. Say yes …’
For once he rather wished she’d keep quiet.
‘I don’t know, Madge,’ he said. ‘I am really not sure about this.’
Madge could see the uncertainty in his eyes and felt a little guilty; perhaps she’d come on too strong.
‘Sure, Oskar, sure. It’s just an idea, that’s all. Don’t you let me bully you into doing anything you don’t want to do, that wasn’t fair of me, I shouldn’t have been so pushy.’
‘I can think about this, yes?’
‘Course you can.’
‘Very well. I will think, and I will tell you tomorrow.’
That night, tucked in his little niche at the back of the park’s war memorial, Oskar discussed the situation with Lila.
‘But why do you think I should do this, Lila?’ he asked. ‘I play chess for myself, and for you, not for others.’
‘Then it’s high time you did,’ came the curt reply. Lila was being her customary practical self, but this time perhaps a little harsh in her condemnation.
‘You’ve come to like Madge,’ she said, ‘you told me so yourself. “Madge is a good woman” – that’s what you said. Well, Madge is prepared to put her faith in you, Oskar, to spend her newfound fortune on you and give the others who have become your friends a wonderful party to celebrate your victory. How could you possibly say no?’
In just a matter of seconds she had succeeded in making him feel wretched for having even considered refusing.
‘You are right, Lila,’ he said, ‘I will accept Madge’s generous offer and I will play in the tournament.’
‘Of course you will, my love,’ she purred softly in his ear the way he so loved, ‘and you will win, just as they are all expecting you to. Because Oskar, my darling, you are the best!’
The following day when he approached Madge, Oskar was still brimming with the confidence Lila had instilled in him.
‘I will play in the tournament,’ he said.
‘Well done, Oskar,’ Lila breathed lovingly, and he shivered with pleasure.
‘Good on you, Oskar,’ Madge said. ‘I’ll tell the others later in the day.’ She wouldn’t make the announcement in front of him; she’d tell them one by one as they turned up. She knew Oscar didn’t like being the centre of attention.
Strangely enough, Madge didn’t worry at all about Oskar being the centre of attention at the tournament. The thought didn’t even occur. She and the others knew that when Oskar was focused on his chess game, no-one else was there.
To the great relief of the organisers, the first day of the tournament dawned bright and clear, and the weather reports promised that Sunday would be the same.
The great worry had been a summer downpour, although there’d been a contingency plan in place should that happen – a series of marquees that would hardly have been the same. There was a marquee, however, set up some distance from the chess tables, a very large rectangular marquee open at both ends where people could file through and purchase all sorts of gourmet food and refreshments, courtesy of well-known restaurants, wineries, cafes and the like, each vying for promotion and each having made a considerable financial contribution for the privilege of being part of such a festive occasion.
The White Ribbon Chess Tournament was intended also to be a wine and food festival, the organisers having wisely realised that chess appealed to only a certain percentage of the population and that they would raise far more for the cause if they provided something for everyone. They may have overlooked the fact that in catering to the masses they were perhaps creating a noisy atmosphere that might prove distracting to the players, but when it came to the importance of good causes and fundraisers this was surely a minor consideration.
The group from The Corner arrived at the park on the dot of ten, minus Madge and Oskar, who were already there.
They’d turned up en masse to support Oskar, Criminal Johnny leading the brigade, Ted by his side, both intent on a little side-betting, with them Sal and Benny, and even old Syd, who was looking quite sober.
Young Adam was there too, surprisingly enough with his adopted parents in tow. Seventeen-year-old Adam had been a regular at The Corner for the past two years, well and truly under Madge’s protective wing. But since he’d moved in with the middle-aged couple who squatted in a derelict building long awaiting demolition he hadn’t been turning up quite as often. Which didn’t bother Madge one bit – she was only too happy the kid had a roof over his head.
‘This is Mum and Dad,’ young Adam said to his mates as they met up in the park. He introduced the pair with pride, a nervy-looking woman who twitched and a thickset, thuggish man with tattoos. The others were intrigued; they’d never met ‘Mum and Dad’ before.
As instructed, Madge and Oskar had arrived a half an hour earlier in order for Oskar to be allotted his number and place in the running schedule. He was to be among the first cabs off the rank, he was told, and just as Del and Melissa had promised, he’d been assigned his opening game on the big chess set.
‘That is good,’ he said to Madge, gazing about at the surrounding small tables with chairs tucked in either side. Very close, he thought. ‘I like the big chess set.’
‘Yes, I was sure you would.’
The park was looking resplendently festive, balloons and fluttering flags abounded, and people were already milling around. Madge was somewhat taken aback by the giant marquee and the signs advertising restaurants and wineries, all of which gave her a sense of misgiving. There’ll be a massive crowd fronting up for this, she thought, I wonder how Oskar will cope.
But Oskar appeared blissfully unconcerned. He was here to play chess and he stood complacently, eyes fixed on the giant board, as if envisaging moves as he waited for the game to commence. He didn’t even feel uncomfortable in his new suit; clothes were just clothes after all. It did seem a bit strange being without his trolley, but he knew it’d be safe at Madge’s place.
Madge had bought them both new clothes: a suit and open-neck shirt for him – they’d decided to go without a tie – and a frock for her. The clothes hadn’t really been new at all, but they hadn’t been free either. She’d purchased them from a St Vinnies sales outlet.
‘The money goes to the poor, Oskar,’ she’d said with a hoot of lau
ghter.
She hadn’t bothered to purchase shoes. Oskar still wore his shabby old boots and she her frayed slip-ons.
‘We need to be comfy,’ she said. And the same went for her cardigan, which she wore over her frock, its deep pockets so convenient – she never carried a handbag – its familiarity of such comfort.
She’d gone to the further trouble of trimming Oskar’s beard and hair.
‘You don’t mind if I tidy you up a bit, do you?’ she’d asked.
He hadn’t, surprisingly enough, which was proof of the trust he now placed in Madge. Instead, he’d sat patiently while she’d clipped away with a pair of blunt scissors. She’d tidied her own hair too, scrunching it into a sort of bun rather than just scraping it back.
The ‘tidying up’ process hadn’t been particularly effective; hairdressing was not a skill Madge possessed, and to many they remained an odd-looking pair. But not to their friends from The Corner, some of whom appeared to many a great deal odder.
‘Well cop you.’ Old Syd looked Madge up and down through rheumy eyes. ‘That’s a new frock,’ he said, proud that he’d registered the fact.
‘You’re right, Syd, it is,’ she replied.
‘And what about Oskar,’ young Adam said. ‘You look great, mate, a real winner.’
Oskar accepted the compliment with a nod but appeared self-conscious, which was not unusual. They all knew he was unaccustomed to this sort of attention.
‘This is Mum and Dad,’ Adam said proudly. ‘I brought them along to watch you play.’
Oskar shook hands with the couple, more tongue-tied than ever – he knew that even Madge hadn’t met Mum and Dad.
Madge shook their hands too. ‘I’m Madge,’ she said.
‘Yeah, we’ve heard all about you,’ the thug said. ‘I’m Nick. You’ve been good to our Adam, and we thank you for that, don’t we, Evie?’
The nervy woman gave a nervy nod.
‘We’re rootin’ for you, Oskar,’ Criminal Johnny said with a thumbs-up.
‘And that’s a fact,’ Ted chimed in, giving Oskar a hearty slap on the back. ‘I’ll have a packet riding on you, buddy. You’re a sure-fire bet.’
Madge winced. Everything Tight-arse Ted did was cringe-worthy. You don’t slap Oskar on the back, she thought, he hates physical contact. You don’t boast about the packet you’ve got riding either, and you don’t tell him you’re betting on him – no-one does that!
She looked at Oskar. He was saying nothing, which of course was not new, but was he rattled? It was difficult to tell. He’d been so assured only minutes ago. If you’ve rattled him, Tight-arse, I’ll bloody kill you, she thought.
All about them players were seated at chess tables waiting for the tournament to commence, and suddenly an official was by their side calling Oskar away. It was time to meet his opponent, toss the coin and the game to begin.
‘Good luck, Oskar,’ Sal called.
Benny joined in bouncing up and down and clapping his hands. ‘Good luck, Oskar.’
Barely five minutes later there was an announcement over the loudspeaker inviting the players to make their opening move. The White Ribbon Chess Tournament was officially underway.
Oskar’s opponent had won the toss, drawing white. He was a young man in his early thirties, casually dressed but smartly so – open-neck shirt, sports jacket and jeans, and above all a supreme air of confidence. Nothing that would put Oskar off his game, he’d played many like this before. In truth, he rarely noticed his opponents.
The young man made his opening move, pushing his white pawn forward with a well-polished loafer. Then he stepped back, awaiting Oskar’s opening move.
But at the black end, Oskar was frozen. He could barely see the chessboard at all, let alone the pieces lined up in front of him. His peripheral vision had taken over. Although he remained staring at the ground, all he could see were his friends from The Corner, lined up at the side, watching, waiting, their hopes pinned on him.
As a rule, Oskar saw nothing but the board and the pieces; opponents, observers, all else disappeared. Today it was just the opposite, the board and the pieces were shimmering, he was finding it impossible to focus. What was happening? He appealed to the only person who could help him.
‘What is happening, Lila? Why can I not make my move?’
But Lila did not answer.
‘You must help me,’ he begged. ‘Please, please, my darling, you must help me.’
Further silence.
‘I have a responsibility to these people, Lila,’ he implored. ‘Can you not see that? Please, please, you must help me!’
But still Lila was silent.
The seconds ticked by, and Oskar knew he was alone.
Those gathered around the board were murmuring to one another. Why was this odd-looking contestant talking to himself, and in a strange language what’s more? Why wasn’t he making a move?
Oh God no, Madge thought, wanting to cry. This was the Oskar of old, the Oskar who’d always talked to himself in strange tongues. I’m sorry, Oskar, she thought. We shouldn’t have done this to you, you’re not ready. I’m so very sorry.
Then, as if in slow motion, Oskar took his king in both hands and very gently laid the piece on its side. He gave a slight bow of apology to his opponent and walked away from the board.
Madge quickly joined him, matching his pace as he set off across the park.
‘I’m sorry, Oskar,’ she said. ‘Truly I am. I shouldn’t have entered you in the contest.’
‘The fault is mine.’ He didn’t look at her but continued steadily walking. ‘It is I who must apologise.’
‘No, no …’ She was about to protest further but it was obvious Oskar couldn’t handle any further discussion.
‘I will see you at your place, Madge,’ he said. ‘I must collect my trolley.’
‘Yes, of course.’
She dropped back, leaving him to walk on ahead.
The others, who’d also left the chess game, joined her.
‘What happened, Madge?’ Adam asked. ‘Why didn’t he make a move?’ Adam was without his mum and dad, nervy Evie and Nick the thug having headed back to their squat.
‘I don’t know, love,’ Madge answered. ‘I suppose he panicked, I really don’t know.’
‘All my fault,’ Criminal Johnny said gloomily, ‘bloody stupid idea. I should never have come up with it. Poor old Oskar.’
‘No, it’s not your fault, Johnny,’ she assured him. ‘We were up for it – all of us. It’s no-one’s fault.’ Yes it is, she thought, it’s mine. I was the one who came on so strongly that Oskar felt obliged.
Sal, Benny and Syd were trailing along beside them, but Madge noted Ted wasn’t there.
‘Where’s Ted?’ she asked.
‘Oh, he stayed back at the game,’ Criminal Johnny said, ‘wanted to have a look around for a bit.’
Yeah, well, that’d be right, wouldn’t it, Madge thought, doesn’t give a shit about Oskar. Tight-arse Ted just wants to lay on a few bets.
They kept their distance behind Oskar as they all trooped back to The Corner, but they could hear him nonetheless, all of them, muttering away to himself in his strange tongue.
‘Why did you do that to me, Lila, why?’ Oskar had been berating her for some time. Lila was talking to him now. ‘I begged you for help and you deserted me. Why would you do such a thing? Why?’
But Lila appeared to feel no guilt whatsoever.
‘I never talk to you when you play, Oskar, you know that. It is our rule.’
‘But this was different.’
‘No it wasn’t. It wasn’t different at all.’
‘I had a responsibility!’ he insisted.
‘You have a responsibility to yourself, Oskar. You were there to play chess, and that’s what you should have done. You must learn to be strong, my darling,’ she said briskly.
He knew there was no point in talking any further. Lila could be so unfeeling at times.
He headed directly
for the old terrace house where Madge had her bedsit and waited outside.
Madge joined him only a minute or so later and they retrieved his trolley.
Oskar stood, shamefaced, clutching its handle and staring down at his boots, not wanting to meet her gaze, wishing he could just disappear.
‘I am sorry I let you down,’ he said. ‘I am sorry you lost your winnings.’
‘Who cares?’ Madge gave a careless shrug. ‘I don’t. Now come on, Oskar, we’ll go to The Corner and I’ll shout you a beer.’ He looked so miserable she knew he intended to go off on his own. She cursed herself. What a backward step today’s been for the poor bastard, she thought. ‘I’ve still got some of my winnings left. I’ll shout the whole gang a beer. We’ll have a commiseration party, what do you say?’
‘No, no.’ He backed away at the thought, his trolley squeaking as if joining him in protest.
‘Please, Oskar,’ she implored, ‘please.’
She was quite sure she was fighting an uphill battle and that Oskar would slink off, possibly never to return. But unbeknown to Madge, someone else had joined in the argument.
‘You will go with her, Oskar,’ Lila ordered. ‘You will go with her and you will say you are sorry to those who put their trust in you. You owe them an apology also. You know you must do this, don’t you?’
‘Yes, yes, I know I must do this.’
Madge had no idea what it was he’d muttered, but he nodded, so she took it as a ‘yes’ and together they walked to The Corner, where the others were gathered.
No-one knew what to say when Oskar arrived. He appeared so forlorn, so lost. But there was no need for comment as Oskar himself made the opening move.
‘I apologise,’ he said, standing his ground and meeting everyone’s eyes, expecting accusatory looks, which he would have considered justifiable. ‘You put your trust in me and I let you down. For this I am extremely sorry, and I beg you to forgive me.’