*
Fat Stanley grinned as he sat down facing him across the table. He nodded at the halfbottle of vodka: Any of it left?
What. .
The vodka, any of it left? Fat Stanley grinned.
Aye. .
It’s for Alec. Fat Stanley watched Oanny pour some into another cup and add a fair proportion of lemonade. When Oanny was putting the halfbottle away into his inside coat pocket the other man added, Eh — what about Victor, should we give him one as well?
I suppose so. . Oanny shook his head, reached for another cup and poured in a tiny amount and then added a good proportion of lemonade, and muttered, The cunt’ll no notice anyway! He glanced at Fat Stanley: You should’ve told him to come and get it himself!
Ach Oanny, you know what like he is!
Aye, no fucking brains!
Fat Stanley chuckled. Naw, he said, but he likes watching the game.
I know he likes watching the game Stanley. Well I’ll tell you, he can watch it till fucking doomsday for all the good it’ll do him cause he’ll never make a fucking poker player. I mean you ever seen him fucking twitching! Poker by fuck! Couldnt play ludo that cunt!
Ah he’s no that bad.
Your trouble is you’re too soft.
Fat Stanley raised his eyebrows and smiled while lifting the two teacups. No coming ben? he asked.
In a minute.
It’s good. Some rare hands coming out.
Oanny shrugged. Either we win or we dont, it’s as simple as that Stanley. Who’s all playing?
McArthur and big Dessy, Billy Hendrie, the Ragman. .
Oanny nodded. How’s Alec doing anyway?
Och up and down, up and down.
Early days. Only takes a couple of good pots and we’ll be well away.
Fat Stanley smiled. Coming then?
In a minute.
Right you are. . He headed back through towards the gaming area. After a moment Oanny took the halfbottle out again and he checked the amount remaining. He continued to read the label then sniffed and returned it into the inside pocket. He lighted another cigarette and exhaled onto the table-top, scattering crumbs from the surface.
*
The sound of people talking quite loudly; somebody laughing. The poker had finished. And the main lighting was now on in the gaming area. Alec was a winner. Oanny would have bet money on it. He was standing central to the company and although he was not speaking the ones who were made a point of including him in the general conversation. When Oanny appeared a few of them had exchanged greetings with him. He took out the cigarettes and offered them about. The manager of the club was a guy in late middle age by the name of James Millar. He had nodded to Oanny without any comment, friendly enough but keeping his distance. Now he signalled to the doorman and together they left to stick on some coffee and knock up a few sandwiches. When the kitchen door shut the Ragman said, Well Oanny, dont see much of you these days.
The way that doorman was acting I thought I was barred!
Aye, he’s keen.
Keen! Oanny rubbed his hands together, exhaled a puff of smoke. How’s business? he asked.
Aw no bad no bad, surviving.
Good.
Heh Oanny, called Billy Hendrie, ever hear anything of the Ghoul these days?
Some of the company laughed. In the background Victor could be seen, he stood several yards to the side of Fat Stanley and to the rear of the main poker table. Oanny chuckled: The Ghoul eh! What a man yon was!
You’re no kidding! laughed Hendrie.
Last I heard he was up in the ’rigs.
That’s what I heard as well, said the Ragman. The Shetlands?
Oanny nodded.
I wonder if he’s still into the Crown & Anchor? asked Hendrie. What! Oanny pulled a face and the company laughed. He glanced at the Ragman and said, Mind that fucking pitch-and-toss game he set up down in Bellshill? The heavy squad ran him out of town!
The laughter again. But after a moment the Ragman answered, I dont think it was Bellshill but.
Tommy Rollo called, Naw I think you’re right, I think it was somewhere else.
It was Blantyre, said Alec.
Blantyre, aye.
Oanny nodded. Blantyre, he said, that’s right. A team of heavyweight boxers they sent after him. Fucking lynched him if they’d caught him!
Heh. . Billy Hendrie glanced swiftly at the kitchen door and whispered: Mind that time he tried to get a faro bank going in here?
Millar and his brother were supposed to be away off on holiday, grinned the Ragman.
Oanny chuckled, I’d forgot all about that!
The Ragman turned to those in the company who looked as if they had never heard about the business and he continued, No kidding ye, there was about a dozen of us, all in here one Tuesday dinnertime — dinnertime, aye! Anyway, the Ghoul’s got everything set up and he’s running this fucking I think man it might’ve been a grand bank, eh Billy?
Must’ve been. Maybe even one and a half.
Oanny was nodding and grinning and he said. And then the fucking door opens. .
And in they come, said the Ragman, the two of them.
Didnt know what the hell was going on! whispered Oanny.
Naw, said the Ragman, the two of them with their mouths hanging wide open!
And then the Ghoul, said Oanny, he just gives them both a wave: how’s it going, he says, sit down, yous’re just in time!
The Ragman laughed loudly and so too did Oanny and Billy Hendrie. Others chuckled and smiled. And the Ragman added, You’d have to have seen it to really appreciate it. Really funny but!
Tommy Rollo called, Heh there was that other time. .
Oanny was aware of Alec’s brief signal and he nodded. Victor and Fat Stanley were already approaching the exit. Oanny gave a cheery wave to Ellen whom he saw for the first time now, sitting on her own reading a magazine. Both he and Alec bade their cheerios to the rest and minutes later were along the lane with the other two.
It was still only half past three in the morning. A taxi for hire was stationary at the traffic lights ahead but none of the four suggested taking it though it was almost a mile from the club to The Edwardian. They walked quickly, speaking sporadically. Alec giving Oanny a brief run-down on how the game had been. He had managed to double their money but overall he was a bit disappointed. At one time there used to be a lot of cash around Millar’s club. Nowadays people seemed more interested in throwing it away on roulette and blackjack. Where they now headed was like that, The Edwardian, but the bonus here was its private members’ room, different from other ordinary casinos.
Oanny was first to enter and he pushed open the glass door in a nonchalant manner. Three men in evening suits were inside the lobby, two were in their early twenties and the other looked in his forties. Alec stepped to the small table on which lay the large signing-in book. Is big James in? he asked.
The oldest doorman gazed at him. The other two doormen were watching Oanny, Fat Stanley and Victor.
Tell him Alec’s here and wee Oanny and that. Alec sniffed and added, I was on the blower about twenty minutes ago.
The doorman relaxed and replied, I doubt if the four of yous’ll get signed in.
Alec made no comment. He withdrew a new packet of cigarettes and broke the seal, crushed the cellophane wrapping and dropped it into a wastepaper bucket. The doorman had gone. When he came back he flicked open the pages of the signing-in book and got the four of them to enter in their names and also their addresses. Alec nodded to Oanny and the two of them were followed by Fat Stanley and Victor. They strolled through the casino, going the longer way round to the lounge. The place was crowded, both sexes; a lot of the women looked to be wearing very expensive outfits. Quite a few Chinese were about, all ages. They continued into the lounge where a dozen or so people were sitting on the red velvet-backed chairs.