Chapter 12 – Terry
“Blinds in please,” said the dealer as he dealt the cards. Terry Gibbs grabbed a quick peek at his two cards as the other’s put in their blinds, £500 to £1000 on the higher stakes table, the same table Terry had promised his wife Claire that he would never go back to.
“It’s your bet, sir,” the dealer said, gesturing towards Terry.
I hate being under the gun, Terry thought, but Jack, Queen, unsuited, I’ve bet higher with worse. “I’m in for one,” he said as he threw a £1000 chip forward onto the blue felt. The rest of the six players made their bets, three calls and two folds. But at least I can see the flop now.
The dealer expertly burned the top card and smoothly whipped three more cards onto the table, turning them over in one go revealing Jack, eight, ten.
Interesting, Terry thought as he played with the cuff of his maroon shirt. He always did that when he had a hand that could go either way. No more than two thousand to see the next card, he thought as he silently threw in his chips.
The bets went around, two more people out and just one more opponent who called him without a second thought. This guy had already irritated Terry in that he was wearing sunglasses at the table. The backwards baseball cap also annoyed him but what really got to him was that the man only appeared to be about twenty-five. Where’s he getting the money to sit at the high stakes table? Terry thought as the dealer burned another and flipped another card onto the table – a nine.
Terry wiped his clammy hands down his jeans under the table. Straight to the Jack, he thought, this could be my day. Terry checked. I just want to see if what this guy is doing. The best way to bait someone in was to check, and Terry had done it a thousand times, not always successfully. Terry’s last remaining opponent stroked his thin trimmed goatee as he threw in £10,000 in chips. Terry quickly doubled the bet for £20,000 with confidence in his hand. The other player looked thoughtfully at Terry’s chips and threw in £50,000. Swine, thought Terry and he said “All in” without hesitation. There’s no way he’s beating my straight.
The dealer burned another card and flipped the final card onto the middle of the table – Queen of Diamonds. “Ok guys lets see them,” said the dealer. Terry smiled as he threw his cards on the table. “Straight to the Jack.”
I’ve got this, thought Terry, just turn them over already. His opponent showed his first card, Queen of Hearts. That’s ok, Terry thought, he can’t possibly have the King he’d have bet higher earlier. He can’t have the King. The second card seemed to turn over in slow motion, King of Clubs.
“Straight to the King,” said the dealer.
Terry barely heard him – everything seemed distant as he got that horrible feeling in his stomach like he was in an elevator that was going too fast.
The floor seemed spongy as he made his way out of the casino. I can’t believe I did that, I said I’d never do it again. God I’m an idiot, I can’t go back. She’d be better off without me, he thought as he walked down the deserted street towards the small train station.
The station was empty as it should be at one in the morning, the only trains coming through at that time were freight, the kind that didn’t stop, but Terry didn’t need the train to stop. The faster the better, he thought.
There was a vibration from his pocket as a train approached in the distance. Terry removed his phone from the pocket of his blue jeans as he walked to the edge of the platform.
Through the crack on the screen was a picture of a blonde woman and the name Christine flashing across the bottom of the screen. “I can’t believe I’ve let you down like this,” he whispered as he swiped ‘decline’ on the screen.
The sound of the train was getting louder. Only a few more seconds now, he thought as he imagined the hot air of the train rush over his face, and braced himself to jump as he closed his eyes.
“Oi!” A girl’s voice shouted from behind him.
Terry turned around just as the train came hurtling past, the noise deafening. The end of the train thundered with a crack, then it was just the silence that was deafening.
“You’re not one of those train jumpers, are you?” the girl asked.
Walking out of the darkness in a short red dress with heels clicking on the concrete, emerged a pretty young woman. She removed a hair clip from her bag and placed it in her light blonde hair which looked almost luminous in the gloom of the platform.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Terry replied.
“I said, ‘you’re not one of those train jumpers, are you?’”
“No.”
She finished fixing her hair then sat on a bench under the only working light flickering away. “It’s just you look kind of depressed and you’re standing next to a train platform in the middle of the night. Before you do it though spare a thought for the poor sod that has to clean up the mess you leave.”
“I’m pretty good at making a mess of life – might as well do it in death,” Terry replied in a hushed tone, almost to himself.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a pack of Marlborough lights and a lighter. She placed a cigarette into her lips and lit it, taking a long drag. She exhaled slowly, removing the cigarette, her fresh lipstick remaining on the end of the filter.
“You want one?”
“No thanks, I quit years ago.”
“Maybe you should re-think that. I mean, you’re standing on the edge of a train platform looking like you’re waiting for the front of the next train.”
“Ok maybe I’ll have one – can’t make things much worse.”
She presented the open packet and Terry removed a cigarette from the packet, lit it, inhaled deeply and breathed the smoke out into the chilled night air.
“Wow, I forgot how good that is,” he said, looking vacantly at the wall.
“See. I always say there’s no problem too big that a smoke won’t fix,” she replied with a playful smile on her face.
Terry turned and sat next to her on the bench, moving a small brown parcel from between them. “This yours?” he asked.
“Nope, must have been left here by someone else.” She looked across at the small brown parcel as Terry placed it next to him on the bench.
“So what’s got you here tonight being so dramatic then?”
“I’ve let my family down. I promised to stop gambling but now it’s all gone… It’s all just gone.”
“Surely your family will understand.”
“Christine’s given me so many chances already.”
“Christine would be?”
“My wife, she’s done so much for me and I’ve let her down again.”
Terry’s phone vibrated again in his pocket. He pulled it out to swipe ‘decline’ over Christine’s picture.
“That your wife?” The girl took the phone from his hand. “She’s pretty. Kind eyes.”
“Yeah that’s her. She deserves so much better than someone who’s just going to let her down.” Terry took back the phone and returned it to his pocket.
“Maybe you should let her be the judge of that. I mean it’s a bit selfish to presume that she doesn’t want you in her life, but what do I know?”
“I really hadn’t considered it like that before. Still doesn’t undo what I’ve done but I need to face up to it. I just don’t know if I can.”
“Maybe you should just focus on something else. That’s what I try to do when I’ve got something I don’t want to deal with. Procrastinate. Problems can always wait till later.” She reached across his lap and picked up the package.
“For instance – great distraction – what you reckon is in this?”
“Don’t know. Who’s it to?”
“Someone called Nomander… Normandie Belfont. Not sure I’m saying that right.”
“Yeah I think that’s about right. At a French address.”
“So we know it’s going to France – that’s a start.” She held the package up to the light.
“Yeah, it definitel
y says France.”
“So why would someone send something from here to France?”
“Maybe its something you can only get here.”
“Exactly. So now we just have to figure out what you can get here that you can’t get in France. This is a great game.” She looked thoughtfully at the package, testing the weight. “It’s really light. Maybe its PG Tips… scampi fries.”
“What?” Terry laughed, smiling for the first time in what felt like forever. “PG Tips, I can understand. How did you get scampi fries?”
“It’s fairly light, rattles a bit, sounds like crisps, perhaps. I reckon that maybe this Belfont person came over here for a while and got hooked on scampi fries and since you can’t get them in France she has them sent from here every month.” The girl and Terry both laughed.
“I don’t know.” She giggled. “I was in the pub earlier and they are by far the best pub crisp. In fact I’d say they’re my desert island crisp.”
“What’s a desert island crisp?”
“Simple. You’re stuck on a desert island and you can only have one sort for the rest of your life. What’s yours?”
“Hmm… mix ups, I reckon.”
“Mix ups? Never heard of them.”
“It’s basically a load of different crisps in one packet. They’re brilliant.” Terry laughed again as he replied.
“Nope, not having that. That’s a cop out. You’ve got to just pick one.” She dropped the burned-down cigarette under her shoe and ground it into the concrete.
“Ok, fine. I suppose you’ve got a point. If I just had to choose one… easy: pork scratchings.”
“What? Deep fried pork fat. That’s minging.” She screwed up her face, the kind of pantomime disgust expression people used when trying to make a point.
Terry looked out across the train platform smiling like a man who had found the answer to a question he’d been searching a lifetime for. He crushed the end of his cigarette under his boot.
“See. I told you distractions work.” The girl smiled.
“I’m actually amazed at how much better I feel. Thank you. You’ve helped more than you can know.”
“I’m glad, but time is money so I’ve got to get to work.” She gave Terry back the parcel as she stood.
Terry took the parcel and stood with her. “Might drop this off at the post office so whatever it is gets where it’s going. Is there anything I can do to help you out? I feel like I owe you so much – you’ve really given me a fresh perspective.”
“Nah I’m pretty happy with my life choices but if that changes I’ll be sure to call in that favour.” Again she chuckled.
They walked out of the platform area through to the exit and out to the car park. Terry cradling the parcel under his arm, they walked five hundred yards down the street to the zebra crossing opposite the hospital.
“Goodnight. I hope everything works out for you.” She took a last look at Terry as she stepped onto the crossing.
“Wait! I don’t even know your name!” Terry shouted after her.
She stopped and turned around in the middle of the crossing.
The lights of a car illuminated her in the darkness briefly before the black car smashed her ten feet down the street as Terry looked on in horror.
The car stopped for a second then the sound of screeching tires filled the air as the driver fled the scene, then silence.
Terry ran frantically to the girl now lying lifeless in the middle of the road. Falling to his knees by her side, he searched frantically for any sign of life. Terry looked up at the illuminated A&E sign on the hospital across the road, and without a second thought, he scooped the girl up in his arms. The parcel, now forgotten, tumbled to the bottom of a set of concrete steps, as Terry ran across the road to the hospital.
“Help! Somebody help please! I need help!” Terry screaming as two paramedics rushed out of the automatic doors. Another came out with a stretcher. “Ok… on three, one, two, three.” The paramedics lifted the girl onto the stretcher and pushed it into the building, with Terry following.
Inside the hospital, Terry felt lost and helpless. The girl had shown him such kindness. She needed his help and he was powerless to do anything but shuffle behind the paramedics like a lost puppy.
“Are you her family, sir?” one of the paramedics asked as her colleagues took over. “You can only be here if you are immediate family.”
“No,” Terry replied. He stopped in the middle of the corridor as he watched the girl being rushed towards the emergency room and disappear around a corner. “I didn’t even get her name.”
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The Parcel Page 12