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‘Better than no bad with that!’ He gestured at Eddie’s clothes. He reached to draw his thumb and forefinger along the lapel of the jacket. ‘Hand stitched,’ he said, ‘you didnt get that from John Collier’s. Eh Mick?’

Mick smiled.

Eddie opened the jacket, indicated the inner pocket. ‘Look, no labels.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means it was fucking dear.’

‘You’re a bastard,’ said Fisher.

Eddie grinned. ‘Yous for another? A wee yin?’

‘Eh. . Aye.’ Fisher said, ‘I’ll have a doctor.’

‘What?’

‘A doctor.’ Fisher winked at Mick. ‘He doesnt know what a doctor is!’

‘What is it?’ asked Eddie.

‘A doctor, a doctor snoddy, a voddy.’

‘Aw aye. What about yourself?’ Eddie asked Mick.

‘I’ll have one as well Eddie, thanks.’

Although it was busy at the bar he was served quite quickly. It was good seeing as many working behind the counter as this. One of things he didnt like about England was the way sometimes you could wait ages to get served in their pubs — especially if they heard your accent.

He checked the time of the clock on the gantry with his wrist-watch. He would have to remember about the bank otherwise it could cause problems. Plus he was wanting to get a wee present for his mother, he needed a couple of quid for that as well.

When he returned to the table Fisher said, ‘I was telling Mick about some of your exploits.’

‘Exploits.’ Eddie laughed briefly, putting the drinks on the table top and sitting down.

‘It’s cause the 2,000 Guineas is coming up. It’s reminding me about something!’

‘Aw aye.’ Eddie said to Mick. ‘The problem with this cunt Fisher is that he’s loyal to horses.’

‘Loyal to fucking horses!’ Fisher laughed loudly.

‘Ah well if you’re thinking about what I think you’re thinking about!’

‘It was all Sweeney’s fault!’

‘That’s right, blame a guy that cant talk up for himself!’

‘So it was but!’

Eddie smiled. ‘And Dempster, dont forget Dempster!’

‘That’s right,’ said Fisher, turning to Mick, ‘Dempster was into it as well.’

Mick shook his head. Fisher was laughing again, quite loudly.

‘It wasnt as funny as all that,’ said Eddie.

‘You dont think so! Every other cunt does!’

‘Dont believe a word of it,’ Eddie told Mick.

‘And do you still punt?’ Mick asked him.

‘Now and again.’

‘Now and again!’ Fisher laughed.

Eddie smiled.

‘There’s four races on the telly this afternoon,’ said Mick.

‘Aye,’ said Fisher, ‘we were thinking of getting a couple of cans and that. You interested?’

‘Eh, naw, I’m no sure yet, what I’m doing.’

Fisher nodded.

‘It’s just eh. .’

‘Dont worry about it,’ said Fisher, and he drank a mouthful of the vodka.

‘How’s Stevie?’

‘Alright — as far as I know, I dont see him much; he hardly comes out. Once or twice at the weekends, that’s about it.’

‘Aye.’

‘What about yourself, you no married yet?’

‘Eh. .’ Eddie made a gesture with his right hand. ‘Kind of yes and no.’

Fisher jerked his thumb at Mick. ‘He’s married — got one on the way.’

‘Have you? Good, that’s good.’ Eddie raised his tumbler of whisky and saluted him. ‘All the best.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I cant imagine having a kid,’ said Eddie, and to Fisher he said: ‘Can you?’

‘What! I cant even keep myself going never mind a snapper!’

Mick laughed and brought out a 10-pack of cigarettes. Eddie pushed it away when offered. ‘It’s my crash,’ he said.

‘Naw,’ said Mick, ‘you bought the bevy.’

‘I know but. .’ He opened his own packet and handed each of them a cigarette and he said to Fisher: ‘You skint?’

Fisher paused and squinted at him, ‘What do you think?’

‘I think you’re skint.’

‘I’m skint.’

‘It’s a fucking dump of a city this, every cunt’s skint.’

Fisher jerked his thumb at Mick. ‘No him, he’s no skint, a fucking millionaire, eh!’

Mick chuckled, ‘That’ll be fucking right.’

Eddie flicked his lighter and they took a light from him. Fisher said, ‘Nice. .’

Eddie nodded, slipping it back into his pocket.

‘What you up for by the way?’

‘Och, a couple of things.’

‘No going to tell us?’

‘Nothing to tell.’

Fisher winked at Mick: ‘Dont believe a word of it.’

‘It’s gen,’ said Eddie, ‘just the maw and that. Plus I was wanting to see a few of the old faces. A wee while since I’ve been away, three year.’

‘Aye and no even a postcard!’

‘You never sent me one!’

‘Aye but I dont know where the fuck you get to man I mean I fucking thought you were inside!’

‘Tch!’

‘He’s supposed to be my best mate as well Mick, what d’you make of it!’

Mick smiled.

Not too long afterwards Eddie had swallowed the last of his whisky and then the heavy beer. ‘That’s me,’ he said, ‘better hit the road. Aw right Tam! Mick, nice meeting you.’ Eddie shook hands with the two of them again.

Fisher said, ‘No bothering about the racing on the telly then. .’

‘Nah, better no — I’ve got a couple of things to do. The maw as well Tam, I’ve got to see her.’

‘Aye how’s she keeping? I dont see her about much.’

‘Aw she’s fine, keeping fine.’

‘That’s good. Tell her I was asking for her.’

‘Will do. .’ Eddie edged his way out. The elderly man shifted on his chair, made a movement towards the drink he had lying by his hand. Eddie nodded at Mick and said to Fisher, ‘I’ll probably look in later on.’

A couple of faces at the bar seemed familiar but not sufficiently so and he continued on to the exit, strolling, hands in his trouser pockets, the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Outside on the pavement he glanced from right to left, then the pub door banged behind him. It was Fisher. Eddie looked at him. ‘Naw eh. .’ Fisher sniffed. ‘I was just wondering and that, how you’re fixed, just a couple of quid.’

Eddie sighed, shook his head. ‘Sorry Tam but I’m being honest, I’ve got to hit the bank straight away; I’m totally skint.’

‘Aw. Okay. No problem.’

‘I mean if I had it. . I’m no kidding ye, it’s just I’m skint.’

‘Naw dont worry about it Eddie.’

‘Aye but Christ!’ Eddie held his hands raised, palms upwards. ‘Sorry I mean.’ He hesitated a moment then said, ‘Wait a minute. .’ He dug out a big handful of loose change from his trouser pockets and arranged it into a neat sort of column on his left hand, and presented it to Fisher. ‘Any good?’

Fisher gazed at the money.

‘Take it,’ said Eddie, giving it into his right hand.

‘Ta Eddie. Mick’s been keeping me going in there.’

‘When’s the giro due?’

‘Two more days.’

‘Garbage eh.’ He paused, nodded again and patted Fisher on the side of the shoulder. ‘Right you are then Tam, eh! I’ll see ye!’

‘Aye.’

‘I’ll take a look in later on.’

‘Aye do that Eddie. You’ve actually just caught me at a bad time.’

‘I know the feeling,’ said Eddie and he winked and gave a quick wave. He walked on across the street without looking behind. Farther along he stepped sideways onto the path up by the Art Galleries.

There were a lot of children rushing about, plus women pushing prams. And the bowling greens were busy. Not just pensioners playing either, even young boys were out. Eddie still had the Record rolled in his pocket and he sat down on a bench for a few minutes, glancing back through the pages again, examining what was on at all the cinemas, theatres, seeing the pub entertainment and restaurants advertised.