Greyhound for Breakfast

by Kelman, James

  Oanny frowned at him but then he gestured with the half-bottle: Want a voddy?

  Naw, I dont want a voddy.

  Good! The fucking price your man charges! What a carry on – a fiver? For a fucking halfbottle!

  Well if you dont fucking like it!

  Oanny shook his head. He glanced about, opened the new packet of cigarettes and he offered one to the doorman as an afterthought. Each lighted his own. Then Oanny swallowed too big a mouthful of the alcohol and he shuddered and dragged immediately on his cigarette, keeping the smoke down inside his lungs for a longer period than normal.

  He put the bottle back in the inside pocket again. He would have to forget about it being there otherwise he could end up doing it in, without even noticing! He shook his head and glanced up. But the doorman had vanished.

  He got to his feet, intending to go through and see what was what in the poker but he went for a piss instead. On the return he stopped by the small group of spectators but when Victor chanced to look across he kept on walking, back into the snacks room and onto the same chair as before.

  It was enough to have shown his face, just so they would know he was still compos mentis. And anyway, what was the point in spectating? It was only a game of stud and he knew that inside out and back to front. It was a good skilful game mind you – but so was chess, and Oanny would not have watched that either. He knew Alec was doing okay, just seeing Victor’s face was enough. Although it was one of those wee surprising things about life that occasionally Oanny could get feelings. It was the same when he was married. He always seemed to know in advance when something was going to happen. It annoyed Doreen. She used to fucking blow her top! Oanny grinned. But it was true, he could get these feelings. In punting it had to do with luck and hunches and that kind of thing. You could sense something was going right. You walked up to back your dog and suddenly you knew it made no difference which one you selected because whatever it was it would fucking guy in, it was a stonewall certainty. Your luck was in and that was that.

  And vice versa as well of course. There were times nothing went right. You punt a dozen odds-on chances in a row and each one of them would fucking run backwards. Your luck was out, end of story. The shrewd thing was to get that feeling and use it properly, know when it was best to call a halt, or best to stay with it to the very last. The way Alec was going for instance he had to stay with it and then know that exact moment to get up and call it quits. That was the hard part.

  Oanny crushed out the cigarette he had been smoking and folded his arms, leaning them on the edge of the table. It was typical how Victor was the one to see him look in on the game. George Raft with the dirty shirt. What was interesting was how come he had managed to wangle himself in on the company. He just seemed to turn up one time and tag along. Then suddenly he was there every Friday night, up in the usual place at Ashfield. Nobody even knew where the fuck he lived. Maybe he was dossing. He knew an awful lot of the riff-raff. So did Oanny right enough! But you could not help getting to know them when you saw them once or twice every week. Even if you never acknowledged them they still liked to say hello, just to kid on they knew you, in case they wanted to nip you for a couple of bob in the future. Bastards. That was a good point about Victor, you had to admit it, he was not a beggar. That was one thing you had to admit. But where did he stay? Imagine not even knowing where the cunt stayed! And there was no way of finding out, not unless you just came right out and asked him. And how could you do that? Some sort of conversation would have to be on the go first of all and Victor never got involved in conversations, especially not with Oanny. What a carry on it was.

  *

  Fat Stanley grinned as he sat down facing him across the table. He nodded at the halfbottle of vodka: Any of it left?

  What . . .

  The vodka, any of it left? Fat Stanley grinned.

  Aye . . .

  It’s for Alec. Fat Stanley watched Oanny pour some into another cup and add a fair proportion of lemonade. When Oanny was putting the halfbottle away into his inside coat pocket the other man added, Eh – what about Victor, should we give him one as well?

  I suppose so . . . Oanny shook his head, reached for another cup and poured in a tiny amount and then added a good proportion of lemonade, and muttered, The cunt’ll no notice anyway! He glanced at Fat Stanley: You should’ve told him to come and get it himself!

  Ach Oanny, you know what like he is!

  Aye, no fucking brains!

  Fat Stanley chuckled. Naw, he said, but he likes watching the game.

  I know he likes watching the game Stanley. Well I’ll tell you, he can watch it till fucking doomsday for all the good it’ll do him cause he’ll never make a fucking poker player. I mean you ever seen him fucking twitching! Poker by fuck! Couldnt play ludo that cunt!

  Ah he’s no that bad.

  Your trouble is you’re too soft.

  Fat Stanley raised his eyebrows and smiled while lifting the two teacups. No coming ben? he asked.

  In a minute.

  It’s good. Some rare hands coming out.

  Oanny shrugged. Either we win or we dont, it’s as simple as that Stanley. Who’s all playing?

  McArthur and big Dessy, Billy Hendrie, the Ragman . . .

  Oanny nodded. How’s Alec doing anyway?

  Och up and down, up and down.

  Early days. Only takes a couple of good pots and we’ll be well away.

  Fat Stanley smiled. Coming then?

  In a minute.

  Right you are . . . He headed back through towards the gaming area. After a moment Oanny took the halfbottle out again and he checked the amount remaining. He continued to read the label then sniffed and returned it into the inside pocket. He lighted another cigarette and exhaled onto the table-top, scattering crumbs from the surface.

  *

  The sound of people talking quite loudly; somebody laughing. The poker had finished. And the main lighting was now on in the gaming area. Alec was a winner. Oanny would have bet money on it. He was standing central to the company and although he was not speaking the ones who were made a point of including him in the general conversation. When Oanny appeared a few of them had exchanged greetings with him. He took out the cigarettes and offered them about. The manager of the club was a guy in late middle age by the name of James Millar. He had nodded to Oanny without any comment, friendly enough but keeping his distance. Now he signalled to the doorman and together they left to stick on some coffee and knock up a few sandwiches. When the kitchen door shut the Ragman said, Well Oanny, dont see much of you these days.

  The way that doorman was acting I thought I was barred!

  Aye, he’s keen.

  Keen! Oanny rubbed his hands together, exhaled a puff of smoke. How’s business? he asked.

  Aw no bad no bad, surviving.

  Good.

  Heh Oanny, called Billy Hendrie, ever hear anything of the Ghoul these days?

  Some of the company laughed. In the background Victor could be seen, he stood several yards to the side of Fat Stanley and to the rear of the main poker table. Oanny chuckled: The Ghoul eh! What a man yon was!

  You’re no kidding! laughed Hendrie.

  Last I heard he was up in the ’rigs.

  That’s what I heard as well, said the Ragman. The Shetlands?

  Oanny nodded.

  I wonder if he’s still into the Crown & Anchor? asked Hendrie. What! Oanny pulled a face and the company laughed. He glanced at the Ragman and said, Mind that fucking pitch-and-toss game he set up down in Bellshill? The heavy squad ran him out of town!

  The laughter again. But after a moment the Ragman answered, I dont think it was Bellshill but.

  Tommy Rollo called, Naw I think you’re right, I think it was somewhere else.

  It was Blantyre, said Alec.

  Blantyre, aye.

  Oanny nodded. Blantyre, he said, that’s right. A team of heavyweight boxers they sent after him. Fucking lynched him if they’d caught him!

/>   Heh . . . Billy Hendrie glanced swiftly at the kitchen door and whispered: Mind that time he tried to get a faro bank going in here?

  Millar and his brother were supposed to be away off on holiday, grinned the Ragman.

  Oanny chuckled, I’d forgot all about that!

  The Ragman turned to those in the company who looked as if they had never heard about the business and he continued, No kidding ye, there was about a dozen of us, all in here one Tuesday dinnertime – dinnertime, aye! Anyway, the Ghoul’s got everything set up and he’s running this fucking I think man it might’ve been a grand bank, eh Billy?

  Must’ve been. Maybe even one and a half.

  Oanny was nodding and grinning and he said. And then the fucking door opens . . .

  And in they come, said the Ragman, the two of them.

  Didnt know what the hell was going on! whispered Oanny.

  Naw, said the Ragman, the two of them with their mouths hanging wide open!

  And then the Ghoul, said Oanny, he just gives them both a wave: how’s it going, he says, sit down, yous’re just in time!

  The Ragman laughed loudly and so too did Oanny and Billy Hendrie. Others chuckled and smiled. And the Ragman added, You’d have to have seen it to really appreciate it. Really funny but!

  Tommy Rollo called, Heh there was that other time . . .

  Oanny was aware of Alec’s brief signal and he nodded. Victor and Fat Stanley were already approaching the exit. Oanny gave a cheery wave to Ellen whom he saw for the first time now, sitting on her own reading a magazine. Both he and Alec bade their cheerios to the rest and minutes later were along the lane with the other two.

  It was still only half past three in the morning. A taxi for hire was stationary at the traffic lights ahead but none of the four suggested taking it though it was almost a mile from the club to The Edwardian. They walked quickly, speaking sporadically. Alec giving Oanny a brief run-down on how the game had been. He had managed to double their money but overall he was a bit disappointed. At one time there used to be a lot of cash around Millar’s club. Nowadays people seemed more interested in throwing it away on roulette and blackjack. Where they now headed was like that, The Edwardian, but the bonus here was its private members’ room, different from other ordinary casinos.

  Oanny was first to enter and he pushed open the glass door in a nonchalant manner. Three men in evening suits were inside the lobby, two were in their early twenties and the other looked in his forties. Alec stepped to the small table on which lay the large signing-in book. Is big James in? he asked.

  The oldest doorman gazed at him. The other two doormen were watching Oanny, Fat Stanley and Victor.

  Tell him Alec’s here and wee Oanny and that. Alec sniffed and added, I was on the blower about twenty minutes ago.

  The doorman relaxed and replied, I doubt if the four of yous’ll get signed in.

  Alec made no comment. He withdrew a new packet of cigarettes and broke the seal, crushed the cellophane wrapping and dropped it into a wastepaper bucket. The doorman had gone. When he came back he flicked open the pages of the signing-in book and got the four of them to enter in their names and also their addresses. Alec nodded to Oanny and the two of them were followed by Fat Stanley and Victor. They strolled through the casino, going the longer way round to the lounge. The place was crowded, both sexes; a lot of the women looked to be wearing very expensive outfits. Quite a few Chinese were about, all ages. They continued into the lounge where a dozen or so people were sitting on the red velvet-backed chairs.

  Alec took out the Daily Record and began reading immediately. Fat Stanley and Victor glanced about. Oanny grinned, They dont bite.

  What? said Fat Stanley.

  Oanny was still grinning; he nodded at the girls.

  Aw naw, said Fat Stanley. I wasnt . . .

  Although the girls wore long evening gowns they obviously worked for the casino. Their dresses were low cut at the front and the back and they had long slits up the sides. They carried trays of cups and saucers and plates and also of glasses. Oanny cleared his throat, about to say something but Alec shut the newspaper abruptly and got to his feet, he palmed a few notes to Oanny and murmured, See yous later.

  The three nodded.

  I’ll eh . . . Alec paused, smiling at a man who was standing over by the door into the casino, and he strolled across, folding the newspaper and sticking it into his coat pocket. The man wore an evening suit and he smiled at Alec and shook him by the hand.

  Oanny squinted over and waved: Tell big James I was asking for him!

  Right you are Oanny, said the man.

  Oanny glanced sideways at Fat Stanley and Victor, he whispered: That’s wee James, his boy. He raised his eyebrows and slapped his hands together and winked: What d’yous want to drink then?

  Fat Stanley smiled.

  I’m serious. Oanny indicated the tiny enclosed bar. What d’yous want?

  Eh . . . a bottle of beer maybe? if eh . . .

  Fine. Oanny sniffed. Victor?

  Eh a pint of lager?

  Oanny nodded and called to one of the girls. Hey miss; could I have a pint of lager and two bottles of beer, and a wee vodka and lemonade. He grinned and added: I’ve got to take that vodka otherwise the lemonade goes to my head!

  The girl’s smile became apologetic. You need to get a meal before you can get a drink, she said.

  Aw good, good. Oanny rubbed his hands together and said to Fat Stanley: Okay big yin, steak, egg and chips eh? Fancy it?

  The girl was apologetic again. I think they’ve stopped serving now. It’s past 4 o’clock.

  Aw God.

  I’ll go and see but. The girl smiled.

  Aye hen we’d appreciate that. Oanny sighed, shaking his head, gazing after the girl in an absent-minded manner.

  Nice place, said Fat Stanley. The decor and that, it’s nice.

  Aye, said Victor.

  Fat Stanley nodded. After a moment he said to Oanny, Is it a while since you’ve been here?

  Ages. It’s all changed.

  Some money around though eh!

  I dont know so much, said Oanny, some of the cunts sitting ben there’ll hang about all night just playing that roulette for pennies.

  Victor shrugged.

  Fair enough, said Oanny, I’m no saying there’s no money about, I’m just saying it might surprise you, that’s all, that’s all I’m saying. I mind once me and Alec landed in London – we’d been down at Goodwood with a couple of the boys . . . He paused as the girl appeared. She was still looking apologetic.

  I’m sorry, she said then she pointed to an alcove nearby the cloakroom. You can get sandwiches in there.

  Eh . . . Oanny tapped the girl on the elbow as she turned to leave. Can we still get something to drink?

  Well, tea or coffee.

  Aw aye. What is there no chance of eh a wee half or something?

  The girl hesitated for a second; she shook her head, and added, Okay?

  Fat Stanley smiled at her.

  But if you just go over there somebody’ll see to you for sandwiches.

  Once she had gone Oanny sniffed and muttered, Those and such as those.

  Och naw, said Fat Stanley, I dont think so Oanny.

  Aye you better fucking believe it big yin!

  Victor shook his head slightly.

  You kidding? frowned Oanny.

  It’s no up to her, said Victor.

  I’m no saying it is up to her. She could’ve put the word in but, that’s what I’m saying.

  Fat Stanley nodded. He smiled. Being honest, I dont really feel like a drink anyway.

  That’s no the point.

  A coffee would do me, said Victor.

  Aye plus the lassie was saying about sandwiches, added Fat Stanley. Eh Oanny? Is that no what she said, about sandwiches?

  Oanny looked at him then he looked away.

  Then Victor rose and muttered about needing a pish and went off to find the gents toilet.

  Oanny sigh
ed and patted the pockets of his jacket and coat but the halfbottle had been finished before leaving the club. He opened his cigarettes, took one out and left one beside where Victor was sitting, then said to Fat Stanley, Do you want one?

  Naw.

  Oanny nodded and got up. He lighted the cigarette while strolling to the alcove at the far end of the room, stuck the packet into his pocket. Another girl was behind the counter, reading a book with hard covers. She continued reading as Oanny stood there. He grinned eventually. That must be a good book! he said.

  Oh, sorry.

  Naw, it’s alright!

  Are you wanting something? The girl got up from the seat.

  A wee niece of mine, he said, she was like you – nose always stuck inside a book!

  The girl smiled.

  What kind of sandwiches have you got then?

  Well, there’s only lettuce and tomato left now.

  Lettuce and tomato . . .

  We had roast beef and gammon earlier on.

  Oanny shrugged. The lettuce and tomato’ll do fine hen. It’s for three. Plus two coffees and a tea – have you got tea?

  Yes.

  Thank God for that!

  She returned with the stuff on a tray and Oanny applied the milk and sugar from the jug and bowl on the counter. He pulled out the small wad of notes.

  There’s no charge, said the girl.

  What?

  For a meal you would have to pay but sandwiches and coffee come free of charge.

  Aw aye, I see. Thanks hen . . . Oanny started separating the saucers and putting the cups onto them, then he manoeuvered things about on the tray.

  Can you manage? she asked.

  Aye – I’m no decrepit altogether!

  I wasnt meaning that. It’s just that if you leave the saucers the way they were then everything’ll fit till you get to the table.

  Of course, aye. Oanny took the cups back off the saucers and returned the things back onto the tray. He nodded. He noticed a medium-sized bowl to the side of the counter. There was quite a lot of money inside it. Before lifting the tray he peeled two singles from the small wad and he put them in beside the rest. It was probably tips people left because the sandwiches came free. He hummed a tune while carrying the tray back to the table. The lassie was nice. But so bloody young! She hardly seemed old enough to be out at this time never mind working in a bloody casino. And these dresses they were wearing, hers was too tight, and the tops of her tits could actually be seen. It was a wonder the punters ever remembered to pick up their winnings! Not that there would be much winnings in a place like this. Take away the lassies and what did you have, one big con from top to bottom.