I dont think he’s in, somebody replied.
You mean he’s no at work?
As far as I know.
Hh. Tammas shook his head.
He still owes you a couple of quid?
Aye. . Tammas grimaced then returned to the bar to collect his pint and his food. Afterwards he left the pub and crossed the road to the betting shop.
At 4.45 that afternoon he was stamping his timecard and racing down the sloping corridor to the front yard, and across and out through the gates, and down the street. Others were running also. They dashed into the bookmaker’s just as the runners for the 4.45 race were about to come under starter’s orders. Tammas grabbed a betting slip and managed to scribble out a bet and get it on just as the race was off.
It was the last race of the day at that particular meeting but there was another meeting on; it had a race coming up at 5 pm and another at 5.30.
•••
Betty had her back to the shop window, staring at the pavement, her head bowed. Quite a few other people were standing about at this corner. He hesitated some yards away. Another girl was approached by a youth and together they walked off round into Argyll Street. Betty raised her head a moment later and she gazed after them. Her head was bowed again when he reached her. He tapped the side of her arm. Sorry I’m late.
She made no reply but linked arms with him.
I couldnt get a bloody bus. Ended up I just walked.
Walked? She smiled.
Aye.
Is it no a long way?
Aye. He shrugged. I do it a lot but, I quite like walking.
She nodded. They continued up Union Street in silence, until Betty smiled: I thought you’d forgotten!
Forgotten?
Have you been for a pint? she said, sniffing near to his mouth.
What — aye.
Is that how you’re late?
Naw, not at all. . He paused; they stopped walking. Am I no allowed a pint on a Friday night!
Tch Tammas, I didnt mean that. .
He nodded.
I was just meaning if that’s how you were late.
Aw, aye.
They were standing at the traffic lights; he had his hands in his trouser pockets and Betty was to his left, her arm linking his. A few other people were there also and they started across Gordon Street as the lights turned to amber. Tammas and Betty followed. After a bit she said, A girl in work was saying that the one in the ABC 2’s quite violent.
Hh.
That’s what she said, but. . Betty shrugged, pursed her lips. D’you fancy it though?
Eh. .
She was looking at him.
Eh, well. . He sniffed and glanced suddenly across the street, checking slightly in his stride.
When they continued over to the other pavement she smiled at him: You fancy the pub, she said.
Naw. Naw Betty, honest.
Yes you do.
I dont, Christ.
She was smiling. I dont mind Tammas except I just dont like sitting all night in them. Sometimes I go with the people in the work and it gets awful boring, especially if some of them start to get a bit drunk. Rena’s the same. She doesnt often go out with them at all. And d’you know something else?
He nodded.
Naw, she said, about Rena?
What?
I’m saying do you know something else, about Rena?
About Rena? He frowned.
No Tammas. . Betty shook her head, she grinned and tugged on his arm till he brought his hand out his pocket. And he looked at her. She sighed: No Tammas I was just saying, about Rena; she told me she wished Rab didnt drink so much.
Rena?
Aye, she said she thinks he’s drinking too much.
Hh!
She did.
He nodded.
Is it every Saturday night he goes to the pub?
He shrugged. No every one, I dont think. . He paused and she withdrew her arm from his. He took his hands out his pockets. Betty. . he said. He put his hands back into his pockets and hunched his shoulders.
They had stopped walking now and she was looking at him.
Eh. .
What’s up? she asked. She frowned, glanced away, watching someone pass by, before turning to him again. What’s wrong? she said quietly.
Nothing, nothing, it’s no that, there’s nothing wrong. He patted her on the elbow, led her in to stand closeby a shop window. Naw, he said, it’s just — I’m skint. He sniffed and poked his right forefinger into the corner of his eye socket, blinked a couple of times, then brought out his cigarettes and lighted one. When he exhaled she asked: What d’you mean?
Naw. Just — I’m skint, I’ve no got any dough. Well — about. . He took some change from his trouser pocket and displayed it on the palm of his hand. Sixty three pence.
Betty began to say something but stopped, frowning.
Naw, he said, I’m really. . I just eh. . He shut his eyelids.
I dont know what you mean Tammas, I dont know what it is; what is it? what d’you mean?
He sighed. He was gazing into the shop window then he glanced very briefly at her, and then up in the direction of the cinema. The September Weekend and that I just eh. . I was really behind and. . He shook his head, inhaling deeply on the cigarette. He turned to her, putting his arm round her shoulder but withdrew it at once and shook his head again: I’m really sorry Betty, honest.
Do you mean you’ve had to put your money bye for Blackpool?
Aye well, aye — but no just that I mean. . you know how I’m living with my sister and that?
She nodded.
It’s just eh, I always like to pay my way and that, spot on, with the money and that, just to keep it right.
Aw.
I dont like to eh. . He sighed, then he inhaled on the cigarette and gazed up Renfield Street.
Tammas. Betty smiled and linked arms with him. Dont be silly.
Naw, he said. He continued to gaze away from her.
Betty tugged at his arm. She smiled. Come on. . God Tammas I’ve got money, if it’s just the pictures, my goodness. She chuckled.
Naw but that’s no fair Betty, hh, Christ.
Tammas, it’s alright, honest.
He shook his head.
Come on. . She tugged on his arm again and then they carried on walking towards the cinema; but before arriving he stopped and brought his right hand out his pocket so that Betty had to withdraw her arm.
He was shaking his head. Naw, he said, and he sighed quite loudly. Betty. . He rubbed his eyes. This is out of order. I’m sorry, I really. . He touched her on the arm, just beneath her shoulder, then turned about and strode off across the street, and down the way, without looking back.
•••
His head jerked up from the pillow at the slight tremor of the clock and he switched off the alarm before it sounded. His eyelids closed. They opened, and he groped at the top of the bedside cupboard where the cigarette packet was lying. He left it there and raised himself up, studied the clock. A moment later he slid out between the covers and went through to the lavatory before getting on his clothes.
The house was in semi darkness. He tugged the cord to pull up the venetian blinds in the kitchen, leaving off the electric light. He ate cornflakes and milk, rinsing out the bowl and spoon and drying them, returning them into their places in the cupboard. Then he collected his jerkin and cigarettes from his own room. Back down the lobby he clicked open the outside door, closing it gently behind him.
The street and pavement were damp but the sky was clear and it was a mild morning. Along at the newsagent’s shop the man was sorting through his big bundles of Sunday newspapers, a cigarette burning in the corner of his mouth and his eyelids blinking to avoid the smoke. He nodded at Tammas and gave him his ordered Sunday Mail without a word.