Naw Tammas I’ve got all sorts of mates; you know that, the team and the fucking work man I’ve got all sorts — it’s no that but, I mean, Christ.
Tammas nodded. I know. I know Rab. I know that.
Aye well.
I’m just fucking — it’s an honour.
They shook hands.
Honest.
Rab nodded.
Tammas let go his hand. He turned and cleared his throat, spat into the gutter, took out his cigarettes and lighted one, chipping the match out into the street. He glanced at Rab: Dont worry about it.
I’m no. . Rab shrugged. It doesnt matter. As they continued walking he said, You dont have to come to the Stag Night cause there’ll be plenty there anyway — the guys from the team and that; you dont have to bother man.
Naw but I want to come.
Aye but you dont have to, that’s all I’m saying.
I want to but.
Rab nodded. After several moments silence he said, And we’ll have the dress suits to get on the morning as well man that’s another thing.
Aye, no bother.
•••
The meter-bowl contained one 10 pence coin and he replaced it on the mantelpiece, going from there to another bowl on top of the display cabinet; it too was empty. He looked along the window sill and other parts of the room and then he went into the kitchen and searched there, but he found nothing. He returned to the living room and lifted the cup of coffee from the arm of the settee. On the floor, in the ashtray, were the dowps of four cigarettes. He picked one out. He straightened it, smoothing the tip and the fraction of unsmoked tobacco. His matches were on the floor. He struck one, angling his head to avoid the flame of the burning match; and he had it alight in two puffs. Another two puffs and it was finished. He straightened the other three, positioning them along the rim of the ashtray, swallowed down the remainder of the coffee and got up onto his feet, and he walked into the lobby. He stood at the door of Margaret and Robert’s bedroom; he clicked it open, moved his head to peer inside. The curtains were still closed but it was fairly bright, this room obtaining the sun for a good part of each morning. The bed was unmade. When he entered he kept the door open wide. On the dressing table a tidy assortment of articles belonging to Margaret, one a box with a cluttered pile of beads and necklaces; hanging from the top of one of the wardrobe doors a folded shirt and a striped tie, and other clothes over the back of the only chair in the room. Between the chair and the bed were a radio and cassette recorder plus a couple of paperback books and magazines. Tammas continued to stand not far from the door and then he went back out again, closing it behind himself, returning ben the living room. He smoked the largest of the three dowps. About quarter of an hour later he collected his good suit from the bedroom and folded it into a plastic bag.
•••
McCann had laid his dominoes face down on the board and he glanced at Tammas and indicated Auld Roper, tapping the side of his head with his right forefinger.
The elderly man was rising from his seat with the help of his walking stick and he began moving in the direction of the lavatory, looking back and waving the stick as a mock threat.
Tammas started shuffling the pieces but McCann said, Dont bother.
Tammas shrugged, he lifted his cigarette packet, took two and handed one to him; he struck the match. McCann exhaled, saying: You think about what I was saying?
Eh.
I’m no rushing you.
Naw it’s just. . Tammas looked at him. I dont know man. I’m no sure.
Naw. . McCann nodded, he stared towards the television. It’s a thought but.
Aye.
That guy I was telling you about, he says it’s a certainty.
Tammas nodded, raised his pint glass and he swirled about the small drop of beer at the bottom. What about Peterhead? he said. Have you heard anything more?
Naw no really — except they’ll be taking on all sorts. Different contractors involved; it’s a really big fucking job.
I think I’d be interested and that if eh. .
But no the other thing?
Naw, I’m no saying that.
Are you worried about it?
What?
McCann nodded. You dont have to be. Kenny, he’s alright, he knows the game.
Tammas looked at him and then at his pint glass, swirling the liquid about. He dragged on his cigarette, nipped the burning tobacco into the ashtray and wedged the remainder behind his right ear.
Be more than a grand there he says. McCann raised his eyebrows, sipped at his beer, observing Tammas over the rim of the glass.
Tammas shrugged.
Think about it anyhow, added McCann, then he sat back on his chair.
Auld Roper had returned with a glass of sherry which he set on the table at his place while exchanging greetings with two elderly guys sitting nearby.
We no best to get up there quick? asked Tammas.
Maybe.
Auld Roper glanced at them as he sat down: What yous talking about?
Peterhead.
Aw aye. The old man nodded, he sipped at his sherry.
I’m saying to Tammas they’ll be starting to clear the site soon.
Auld Roper frowned at him: Then yous better get up there quick then! Jesus Christ McCann, once they stick these notices into the job centres the cunts’ll be coming from all over the shop! Telling ye son yous better no fucking hang about.
No sweat auld yin, no for a wee while yet.
Roper shook his head and he said to Tammas: Peterhead’s nothing nowadays. Fucking Lapland they’d go to if the money was there.
Tammas smiled.
I’m no fucking kidding ye son.
Well it’s him. . Tammas pointed at McCann: I’m just waiting for him to say the word!
He’ll no say the word, no him.
McCann grimaced.
He’ll no leave Glasgow.
Dont be so fucking daft, I’ve been out of Glasgow dozens of times.
Aye have you! Roper sipped at his sherry again, took out a cigarette and fiddled with his matchbox. After a few moments he glanced at Tammas: What about that mate of yours in New Zealand son you ever hear anything?
Naw.
No even a Christmas card?
Naw, nothing.
He was a good boy that.
Donnie, aye, he was good. . McCann nodded, inhaled on his cigarette and he glanced around the pub interior.
He didnt want to go, said Tammas.
Auld Roper frowned: If he didnt want to go he wouldnt’ve fucking went.
Tammas shrugged.
I mean nobody fucking forced him son.
The rest of his family were all going.
Roper shook his head and added: What’s that got to do with it?
Aw give us peace, muttered McCann. You never fucking stop.
Naw but if he didnt want to go he would’ve stayed, that’s all I’m saying. Deep down he wanted to go, to have an adventure or some fucking thing.
Adventure my arse. It’s just like Tammas says, the boy’s family went and he went with them.
Ach! Auld Roper lifted his sherry and drank a mouthful, sat back on his seat and struck a match, lighted his cigarette and puffed a cloud of smoke over the table. Shuffle the doms, he muttered.
Fuck the doms.
Aye fuck you too.
There was a moment’s silence. It was followed by Tammas swirling the beer about in the bottom of his pint glass and tilting his head backwards to swallow it down in a gulp. I’m off, he said, I’ve got a message to go.
Mind what I was saying! called McCann.
Tammas nodded.
•••
There was a rolled newspaper on the floor nearby the leg of the table. Yesterday’s Daily Record. He settled back on the ledge with it, but the light was too dim now that the snooker had finished. A game was still in progress a couple of tables away but other tables were also empty as the daytime players went home. It was about 5.30 pm. In an hour the hall would again be full. He continued to squint at the racing page, at the racing results of the day before yesterday, trying to see the tote returns. But soon he gave it up. He closed the newspaper, stuck it into the back pocket of his jeans and strolled round to the nearest game. It was terrible. Two absolute beginners by the looks of it. He brought out the Record again but put it away immediately.