The vet was checking the runners’ girths. The handlers preparing to walk them to the boxes and begin the loading up.
Then a bookie called: I’ll lay 10’s the bottom! 10’s the bottom!
Dog 5 at 10/1. It was a great bet. Tammas shook his head. All it had to do was trap properly and it would lead from there to the line. 10/1 was a great bet. And suddenly some muttering began and one of the bookies had scrubbed the 6/4 away altogether and was glancing about and now marking in 5/4, 5/4 from 6/4. And another bookie was scrubbing out the 6/4. And now the rush was on, the punters crushing forward onto those bookmakers still offering 6/4. Tammas was carried along to one who had wiped out the 6/4 but without marking in anything else and he was frantically accepting the bets of those directly beneath his stool. Then he stopped and shook his head. No more! he cried. The 6/4’s away, it’s away! Tammas flung himself forwards, almost over the shoulders of a wee man standing in front of him, and he thrust the thirty pounds into the bookie’s face. To thirty quid: he shouted.
6/4’s away son, it’s away!
But while he was saying it he had taken the £30 and was dropping it into the satchel and muttering to the clerk: Down to the boy thirty quid, one and a half.
Ta Sid. .
He walked quickly away, trying to reach his place in the stand before the race started. He overheard somebody saying the favourite had further shortened to 4/5.
He arrived just before the off. He rubbed his hands, brought out a cigarette. Around him men of all ages were hunching their shoulders and stamping on the spot, hands in their pockets and cigarettes clamped in their mouths. It was a cold and damp night and a quite heavy mist had arisen; when the stadium lights dimmed and the floodlighting round the track came on the whole area seemed enclosed in it. Yet on the actual track the green of the grass and the muddy brown at the inside rail were distinct.
And the hooter sounding. In the silence that followed the whirr of the mechanical hare was quite loud as it staggered into motion, to go lurching along the outside rail. It gained momentum rapidly till when it rounded the final bend it was hurtling on to the traps, and the bang of them opening, and dog 4 had a flier, a flier. Tammas had cupped his hand to his mouth and was roaring EEeeeesssaaaayyyyy!
•••
He had rung the bell. When the doorman opened he said, How’s it going son?
No bad.
Nothing’s started yet.
Ah well. Tammas followed him along and into the snacks’ room. He ordered a coffee and a roll and sausage, and sat down at one of the empty tables, reading the next morning’s Daily Record. At the far end of the counter, near to the door into the gaming room, the dealer was standing chatting to a couple of folk. And the television was on, its volume quite high, being watched by some of the women.
Getting on for 11 o’clock more men had arrived, some entering the gaming room, others ordering food and drinks at the counter. Then the gaming room door opened and three young guys came out. One of them asked loudly: When does the chemmy start in this place?
The dealer glanced at him. He sniffed and continued listening to what somebody in his group had been saying. But moments later he swallowed what was left in the cup he was holding and strolled to the door into the other room. Many of the men followed but Tammas was amongst those who remained. He was still eating his roll and sausage. Two men were now at his table and were discussing the evening’s results at Shawfield with a couple of other guys at the neighbouring table. One of them was saying: Five favourites! Punters must’ve done okay.
Aye but three of them were the last three races, half the punters would’ve been fucking skint by that time!
True, true.
Tammas glanced across at them. A couple of other winners were well fancied but.
Mmm.
Were you over bye like yourself son? asked one of them.
Tammas nodded. I left early right enough.
Aw, like that was it!
Naw. I had my one and it won; I just came away.
Aw. Good. The man nodded, That’s the way to do it. He looked at the man next to him: What am I always telling you eh? Back your winner and then get home, just like the boy here. All you need’s a bit of will power. There’s always another night.
Every cunt knows that!
So what?
So fuck all. I’m just telling you; we all know you need a bit of fucking will power. So fucking what? What does that mean? That means fuck all. The man glanced at the others in the company.
Because we all know it doesnt mean it isnt fucking right, said one of them.
Aw aye, and you know! Give us a break ya cunt you never go anywhere near the dogs!
Aye and I’m no fucking likely to either! Fucking mug’s game.
There was silence. Somebody passed out cigarettes and grinned suddenly. I was just thinking there: know the last time I was at fucking Shawfield? That night they were going to burn the fucking place down. Any of yous remember? Fair Friday night, about 1964.
Actually I think it was 66, one of them replied.
Naw, naw, that’s definite, 64, I mind it well. I know cause the wife had just booked us a holiday at the last minute, and I never even knew and I’d went off to fucking Shawfield with the holiday pay in my pocket and all that! He laughed: I could’ve fucking lost the lost! Lost the lot! As it turns out I didnt, I think I broke about even that night. But the point is, Christ! They were going to burn the fucking place down. . He turned to Tammas: No kidding ye son! They were going to burn the fucking place down!
Big Cowboy was there and all that night. No wonder they were going to burn the place down but! Fucking stroke they pulled. He shook his head at the others: It was an Open Event, dogs up from England and all that. Fair Friday I mean so every cunt’s there with a fortune in their pocket. Me with the lot in mine. And the fucking wife with the holiday booked at the last fucking minute and I dont know, I dont fucking know!
Tammas smiled. He got up, still smiling, shaking his head slightly while the conversation continued.
The game was quite noisy at the horseshoe table. He stood at the rear, beside the spectators, hearing someone whisper that it was about time the bank won, that it hadnt been winning at all so far.
When its losing run eventually did end the bank was being held by one of the three young guys from earlier in the snacks’ room. As soon as the third round had been won Tammas stretched over the heads of those sitting at the front and bankoed the £20. He lost and suived the £40. He lost that too. He had two single pound notes left in his trouser pocket. He noticed the dealer looking at him. Deefy, sitting next to the dealer, was also looking at him. He shook his head and the bank’s money was split for other punters. While the cards were being dealt from the shoe he turned and left the room.
He hailed the first available taxi. At his close he said to the driver: Listen will you wait a minute for me? Eh? I’ll be just a minute.
The driver hesitated.
Tammas smiled. Sorry. . and he gave him the two singles. Honest, I’ll just be a minute.
Okay. The driver folded away the £2.
He raced upstairs. Margaret and Robert were in the front room, viewing a late night film on television. Carrying onto his own room he collected the rest of the money from the bottom drawer of the bedside cupboard. Back in the lobby he paused by the living room door. Then he opened it and he said: Hullo. . Eh, I’ll no be too late! He grinned and shut the door immediately.
The gaming room was still crowded, every chair was occupied and a line of men behind. He had decided to bet only with the bank. If it won he would allow it to go the five coups, then he would withdraw all the winnings and just let it pass.