A Chancer

by Kelman, James

  A CHANCER

  Also by James Kelman in Polygon

  The Busconductor Hines

  Not not while the giro

  An Old Pub Near the Angel

  This eBook edition published in 2012 by

  Birlinn Limited

  West Newington House

  Newington Road

  Edinburgh

  EH9 1QS

  www.birlinn.co.uk

  First published in 1985 by Polygon Books.

  This edition published in 2009 by Polygon,

  an imprint of Birlinn Ltd

  Copyright © James Kelman, 1985

  The moral right of James Kelman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form without the express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-84697-040-5

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-85790-144-6

  British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  I dedicate this novel to my parents, Ronald and Mary; and to my brothers, Ronnie, Alan, Philip and Graham; and also to my parents-in-law, Mary and Pat Connors; and to my brothers-in-law, John and Kevin.

  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 tabl
e; 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. H
e 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.