Whose word was that, ‘ogler’? A dealer Helen worked beside who gave names to them all and was good at mimicking their mannerisms. Any oglers in tonight? Eyebrows up, down and sideways. He was another talented person. In every place she ever worked there was somebody. What was it about casinos? It was one of these jobs, like in Hollywood restaurants, who was serving the food? you never knew if it was a well-known actor ‘between jobs’. So they said anyway, if it could be believed. Fantasy-land; people hoping to get ‘discovered’. They expected it to happen. Everybody was somebody. They had their own talents or like things about them that were special or they thought were special.
The ogler was the opposite. He had nothing.
He was so not her type, my God. And if one person felt that way then the other must also, they must know something, if there is not a single solitary spark, just the exact opposite, the opposite of a ‘spark’. And surely if it is as strong as that my God!
Helen sighed. The Inspector would have noticed. Is there a problem? Yes, I am tired!
Split aces, doubling up. A player had halted proceedings and was waiting on her. His English was bad but he knew the game. She reached to sort out the bet. He nodded but not in approval; it was as if she had made a mistake and he had corrected it.
Between him and the ogler. And ‘wealthy woman’ had been at her table earlier. Helen called her that. It was her own name for the woman. Her man was the gambler, he played roulette and she kept out his way. She wasnt friendly. She didnt have to be.
Where did the money come from? What had her man ever done in the world? Unless it was her; she could have been something.
Then the ones who were there and werent there. That was how they acted, even like texting, and the cards were there and waiting; the game held up for them. So cool, just so cool. Money didnt matter, sitting at your table but like they were someplace else, gazing across to the other tables or over to the lounge or the bathroom or the exit, or a girl walking by with a tray of drinks or if a slot-machine was paying out. Anything at all, like they had no interest in the cards, fingering their cigarette packet. If they wanted to go out for a smoke why didnt they? Even when another player glanced at his watch, they looked at him doing it. Imagine looking at somebody looking at a watch. Was that not weird? What does that say about boredom? They wanted to be someplace else but here they were stuck in a casino, oh well, so they just had to sit at a table and gamble their money. Perhaps they were insomniacs. They only came because they couldnt sleep and were fed up with all-night television. Where else could they go? But did they have to go anywhere? Why didnt they stay at home and read a book? Or get on with the damn housework; they could do a wash or a pile of ironing. If people needed something to do Helen would give them the key to her door and they could go and do her ironing.
She didnt smile at the thought. But if she had. If she laughed aloud. They would all wonder about that. Some wouldnt like it. Dealers laughing. It wasnt encouraged. What were they laughing at? Weeks ago an elderly man caused a disturbance about this; he didnt like ‘croupiers laughing’! You fucking smug bastards! He shouted it across the floor. All because they were laughing. And they were only laughing about something silly. It was nothing to do with him losing his money, or about anybody losing their money. Croupiers dont laugh when people lose their money, not even the ones they dislike. Anyway, not openly. And if it was an okay subject to laugh about then laugh, but quietly. Dont make a fuss. People dont want a fuss, not unless it is a jackpot, everybody crowding round, then it is okay.
The most smiling Helen did was to herself. Usually it went with what she was thinking. Or if she found something funny.
Then if other people didnt. It wasnt her fault.
Mainly it was silly things. Quirky things. Others didnt see the fun, so then if she had to explain it didnt seem funny at all. You just smiled to see it the first time. It wouldnt be funny if you were telling it because it wasnt happening, it was just you telling about it happening. Mo said she had a weird sense of humour. What was weird about that? Some things were funny and some things werent. Comedians on television were supposed to be funny but they werent. Most of them spoke nonsense. They had an easy life and brought other people down; that was how they got their laughs. They stood on the platform acting cool like in their smart outfits, clever clever and laughing at everything, laughing at people. Helen didnt like that. It was daft actions made her laugh, clowns from the circus. They were truly funny. Really, they were, and it was like real fun. Old black and white films too. They showed them in the morning so if you couldnt sleep you turned on the telly and that is what it was. Sophie at school and Mo out someplace. Helen could lie on the chair and enjoy them, like with the blanket over, just doze off, it was so so relaxing. She read through the coming movies for the week in the Sunday paper and drew a line round the ones that appealed. Mo said she was ‘quirky’. Okay if she was. So that was another one, if she was ‘quirky’, she didnt care.
She stacked the deck, handed the marker to the next player in line: the ogler. Who else? Ogling her boobs. Oh well, yes, of course. Letting the gaze linger long enough for her to know what he was doing. Because he wanted her to know. It wasnt enough to ogle, they needed you to know.
They look at you and do what they want, if they want to smile and laugh at you they can. It is the easiest thing in the world because like you are trapped. Except you have your clothes on so let them look and just get on with it. Contempt is what Helen felt for them. And any women at the table because if they see it happening why do they not help? If one man gets you they all can.
She needed away. This is what she needed. She had too much going on in her life anyway, what did it matter, horrors like him, she had just so much, so so much, being stuck here, she didnt want to be and even thinking about home and sighing at the table, apropros nothing, just sighing. Sophie was asleep long ago. Azizah too, home in her own house, long ago; she remembered things and was responsible, and a bright girl and just really responsible, she was, they were so so lucky to get her.
The bugger was pretending to be caught like with his hand to his chest, Who me? Infantile behaviour, yes, but more than that he was in control, and she was the one being controlled. Exactly, of course, so so obvious, so so obvious, she was a woman and she was the employee; so there it was twice; he was not only a man but a customer; he had bought the right to control. She would have been as well a prostitute. Bought and sold by Mr Ogle. Mr Ogle. He was whispering into his mate’s ear. Guys like him usually had mates. Otherwise he wouldnt have been doing it. It was a show-off sham and that is all he was.
He whispered loudly enough to be heard by her and the other players. He used a stagey Scottish voice to make a fool of her and make a fool of Scotland. She ignored it. Once upon a time she smiled at that stuff. Not now. Others would have slapped his face and criticised Helen for letting him get away with it. Mum was one; oh yes, Mum. Although ignorant of the entire proceedings. Nothing about any of it. That is what she knew, nothing. Bloody damn all, except how to be critical, if it was Helen. Oh yes, if it was Helen, Mum would have given her the ‘look’ with that tut tut thing she did then the sigh. That was her like just so so — and she knew nothing at all about casinos, and about working in England, nothing, nothing at all. Had she even been in England? She didnt know a single solitary thing about any of it but when it came to being critical my God, if it was Helen, that was a bandwagon. Helen was sick of it. If that was ‘family’, what did it mean, blood and water, it was just nothing, only what you made it like if you made it important it was important, if you didnt you didnt. What kind of family did they ever have? Dad was Dad and oh God