It was Betty. She called, Tammas?
Aye!
You okay?
Aye. Just be a minute.
You okay?
Aye — I was just sick there.
What did you say?
I was just sick there!
Sick?
Aye! He got up and walked to the door, unsnibbed and opened it. They looked at each other for a few moments.
Betty said, Are you okay?
Fine, I’m fine. I was just sick there. He sniffed, I’m going to go home.
Home?
Aye I’ve got a splitting head. . He rubbed at his forehead. Will you tell Rab for me?
Aw Tammas.
Naw I’m eh. . he shook his head. I’m no feeling that well; I think eh. . He stepped to the outside door and opened it.
Aw Tammas.
I’m sorry Betty, I’m really no feeling well. He shook his head, stepped out and shut the door. He walked down the stairs quickly.
•••
Excluding expenses he had £10; not a lot to bet with but enough. The train was crowded. Even so he had found a seat by the window. He placed the Sporting Life folded on the table, began unpeeling a large orange.
When the train arrived in Ayr Station most of the passengers disembarked and Tammas was amongst those heading to the racetrack. Eventually he started trotting. The first race was due off quite soon. And when he made it into the ground the runners were at the starting post. At the tote window he laid an outsider for 50 pence and was vaguely relieved when it did not reach the first three places. He bet another outsider in the 2nd race. Afterwards he adjourned to one of the bars.
His nap for the day was going in the next race. Its name was Rimini.
The probable favourite for this the feature race of the afternoon was trained in the midlands of England and had an obvious chance on form. On its last two outings the horse had won quite comfortably. Both races were fair class handicaps, and according to racecourse gossip it had not travelled north for nothing. But when the bookies marked it in as a 7/4 chance Tammas was surprised. The race was a handicap hurdle and 18 runners had been declared. No matter how far the horse had travelled this 7/4 was a bad bet. He strolled along the row of bookmakers, glancing at each of their boards. He was still a bit early and not all of the runners had a price marked against them. Rimini was in that category.
Then he saw 14/1 being laid against it. He stepped in front of the bookmaker in question and stared at the board. It was amazing. The Sporting Life had forecast 8/1 and now here it was, 14/1. It was almost too good to be true. He had the money in his hand, he stepped up to the bookie and took it to £2.50, returned the rest of the money to his trouser pocket. He stuck the betting ticket into his inside jerkin pocket, turning his back on the bookie and heading back to the bar. He had meant to bet Rimini for more than £2.50 but 14/1 sounded a bit too good. He hesitated. But no, something about it, it was too good. And nearly quarter of an hour to go before the race even started. And then he saw 16/1 being offered. A bookie in the centre of the row up from the last. 16/1. If 14/1 was too good to be true then this 16/1 definitely smelled. Something was up. He continued on and into the bar but then he about turned and raced back to the bookie and took the 16/1 to £1.50.
At the bar he hesitated before ordering a bottle of beer. The more he thought about it the more he knew he was right. Rimini was the one and that was that. All along he had been expecting 8/1 and hoping to catch 10’s with a wee bit of luck. Now here he was with 16/1 and reneging — just having a safe £1.50. A price like 16/1 was wrong. And the favourite was definitely a bad bet at 7/4. If Rimini was trying then — Christ; all it needed was it to be trying and it was a certainty.
He struck a match and lighted a cigarette while striding back outside. There was no 16’s to be had. He strode along each row but nothing, and now 12/1 seemed the best on offer. And away along to where he had taken the 14/1 the bookie was offering 10’s. 10’s! Tammas turned and raced back down the row and grabbed the first 12/1 he could get about his remaining £5.
That was that now. And yet it was something — win, lose or draw, he had come and done what he had set out to do. Rimini was the nap and that was it.
While the Starter called the jockeys to the tapes Tammas manoeuvered his way up the steps of the covered Stand. The wind was sharp, stinging his ears, causing his eyes to water.
And the field had jumped off; he could spot his horse, the amateur rider settling it down behind the leaders. He waited there until passing the Stand on the second circuit he moved it up with the leaders. Round the back straight and turning for home he kicked on and Rimini quickly opened up a gap of about four to five lengths. Approaching the second last and the horse was coming under pressure, its lead being cut back to between two and three. Going towards the last flight of hurdles a loud cheer arose from the crowd as the black and white hoops of the favourite could be seen emerging from the chasing pack. And now another horse had come from the pack and together with the favourite the two of them were just about matching strides with Rimini as they met and jumped the last. The favourite pecked on landing but within moments had regained its rhythm to go after the other two. The amateur aboard Rimini had the whip going hard and the horse appeared to shy a little but only a little and he dropped the whip immediately, keeping the horse going with hands and heels only.
The three went past the post in a line.
Tammas continued to stare at the post as the other horses passed. Around him the punters were discussing the outcome. A photo-finish was announced. Then the announcer added: Stewards’ Inquiry. Please retain your tickets.
Aye I bet you there’s an objection as well! muttered a man beside Tammas.
You think so?
O Christ aye son. No see the way that Rimini was swerving? Favourite had to snatch up.
Tammas nodded. He put his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders and strolled down the steps and along and into the bar. He had enough for a bottle of beer. While waiting to be served he tried to get engrossed in the form for the next race, but all about the folk were discussing the last one. He moved down nearer the end of the counter where it was a bit less noisy. Then a guy barged in past him and shouted to a barman and the barman came at once. Tammas was still holding the money in his hand without having managed to order. He watched the man turning and shaking his head at a group of people sitting at a table at the wall. And he recognised one of the men there. It was Erskine. And he was looking over; Tammas waved and he stared back, then he smiled and waved in reply, gesturing at him to come across.
Tammas went. Hello, he said.
Hello yourself! Erskine turned to his company: This is the guy that takes you in as partners and then turns round and beats you for plenty! Come on, sit down. You wanting a drink?
Eh naw, no thanks. I want to find out how the objection went.
Objection? I didnt even know there was one. . Erskine called to the man at the bar immediately: Objection Charlie, how did it go? the result through yet?
The man was frowning. There wasnt any bloody objection — there should’ve been but there wasnt. Bloody disgrace so it is!
Erskine nodded. What about the Inquiry?
According to them it doesnt even affect the winner, it’s just to do with the second and third! Charlie shook his head and returned his attention to the bar, where his drinks were now being served by the barman.
Tammas was chuckling. He stopped it and raised his Sporting Life as though about to read it, but he started chuckling again. Then he stopped it once more. He glanced at Erskine and shrugged: I’ve backed the winner.