People blamed people all the time. Dad blamed Brian. He gave him rows. Why? Because he was clumsy, awkward, banging into things, and lanky, a big lanky long-legs. He just seemed so lanky. Other girls said it, look at big lanky, that was what they said, it was embarrassing, just silly. Dad was silly, saying these things. It was not Brian’s fault. And sarcastic too, why was Dad so sarcastic? Sarcasm made people awkward and they get nervous. People are nervous, especially if they are young.
She left the photographs lying a moment, then reached for them. It wasnt nice leaving them on the floor. And it wasnt nice calling Dad silly. Helen said things and did things. She didnt think it through. She should have but didnt. The same as a child she did things and said things and then trouble because of it and Dad was so quick always quick just so quick to jump, poor Brian. Too quick. That was Dad. He was just too quick, and with Brian especially, it was not fair. But how could she be responsible? If she was a wee girl. That was all she was my God, why should she have felt guilty? there was no reason at all, it was complete stupidity, childish stupidity. It wasnt her fault if Dad gave Brian into trouble and didnt punish her, why should she be guilty? Not if she wasnt, if she didnt do anything. People arent guilty.
It was complete nonsense.
These old things going round inside her head.
No wonder. She was so tired.
People’s lives depressed her. The subject alone. Even to think about. My God she even depressed herself. She couldnt stop it. And too she was on her own. She was. Mo was great but people are on their own, isolated, they get isolated. Although she had Sophie who was flesh and blood and a piece of herself. Helen felt that she was, just like so so close to her, she could feel the pain, and would feel the pain, when Sophie grew and experienced life, all the ups and downs, Helen would feel it too, she would be with her. Because it would be like herself it was happening to, she couldnt describe it properly, flesh of her flesh, people said that and it was true, Helen felt it so strongly, they were your own flesh and blood, children, they really were.
It was so true.
A slice of toast. Her stomach was empty. She didnt eat properly. Mo said it too. But it was nerves, it was only nerves. If people dont eat, they think it is a disorder, other people think it is, and it isnt because you want to eat but you cannot, you cannot.
It would have been good to talk to somebody. Not Mo. Mo was good but it needed somebody different, who knew her differently. Another woman especially. Ann Marie. Who else! Helen smiled. No wonder. Ann Marie made anybody smile. Even the way she talked, like in a movie. She was a cleaner at the last casino Helen worked at in Glasgow but had been a croupier when she was younger and told good stories about the old days: all the characters, the gangsters and crazy people. There were more of them back then. Ann Marie made anything funny. She was great at jokes. Helen was hopeless. Helen couldnt tell a joke to save her life. She tried to but she couldnt. Every time she did it went wrong. People never laughed. They never laughed! And she knew they wouldnt. Halfway through telling it, if she was telling a joke or a funny story, she saw the person’s face and knew they wouldnt. Were they even listening? Perhaps they werent. Even Mo. He laughed but why did he? It wasnt because her jokes were funny. More like sad. She was sad, a sad case.
You had to make it funny. Others did. Even Jill could be funny; she didnt think she was but she really really was. It was the way she said things in her posh voice. She wasnt being snobbish. Yes she was serious but funny serious. Helen wasnt. Helen was always serious, serious serious, serious about everything, serious serious serious oh God why was she always so serious?
But she wasnt always. Not always. She wasnt. My God! Not as a girl. Never. She hadnt been. Even now. She loved to laugh. Ann Marie made her laugh. Mo too, he made her laugh all the time. And Sophie, who was a born comedian the way she made faces and acted her parts, a born actress into the bargain, if ever she got the chance, she would be so good, if she worked at it, she had to; if she did she would make the grade. All she needed was a chance. People had to get a chance. That was society’s fault how people were so stifled and everything so hopeless. People said it was the western world but it wasnt only the western world.
It wasnt.
People are no different from each other. Some think they are. Why do they? They think they are different and they arent. No one is. Mo or whoever. Brian too; he might have had problems but he wasnt unique. Not even her ex was unique my God even if he thought he was.
But Helen wasnt either, and never thought she was. He could never have accused her of that. You had to go out in the world and do things for yourself. Helen knew that from an early age, even if her ex didnt. Nothing came to you, you got it by yourself. And if you took a chance. People tried to and they got defeated, they lost and lost everything. Then they tried to hide it from those closest to them, putting on their brave face; that was the saddest thing about it. But what did they do when they went home and locked the door? If they had lost everything. What did they do when nobody else was there? Except if they had a partner, their wife or somebody. Oh my God, the things Helen had seen, and the violence, just at the tables and the way the man looked at the woman, and she wasnt doing anything! She wasnt. She was just there and there beside him and it was him losing everything, losing everything and she was there and knew it and no one else did and he was acting just so cool and laughing if somebody made a joke, but he had lost everything. Then getting up to leave, the woman not looking at anybody. Sometimes they just sat there and didnt move, they had forgotten to move away from the table and it was up to the dealer to attract their attention. It would have been embarrassing for some. They hardly noticed.
Oh well.
Helen had a cup of tea now, and sipped at it. Having Ann Marie there would have made a difference. Just somebody to talk to who knew. Ann Marie knew.
They kept in touch by phone. Once in a blue moon. It was Helen’s fault. She left it to Ann Marie to make the phone call because she didnt want to bother her. But she should have bothered her. Ann Marie gave her rows about that. Although nightshift hours made it extra difficult. It would have been better to text. But even Ann Marie’s voice made her smile, the way she spoke, not even like what she said, it didnt matter. Although she was wrong to say there were no characters left, as if they had all died off! Perhaps in Glasgow but not down here. There were real characters down here, and charmers, real smoothies. What about the mad doctor? Really he was a surgeon. But a true character. Not a smoothie but nice, but also a flirt, he was. Some flirts are funny and cheery and he was like that. He came from a rich family in India and gambled every night near enough. All his money went on blackjack and roulette. But he was a nice man and a good person. If he was high caste, he didnt have a down on people, not like you got from some who only looked at you if they wanted something and hardly even then, they thought you should know in advance — like a servant; that was what it was, they treated you like a servant. The mad doctor was not like that. He was generous to the dealers, the boys too, everybody; even when he didnt win he tipped them, that was his way, and he chatted to anybody, chatted all the time. He got tipsy on rum and lost fortunes. It was a special Indian blend they kept for him and once he started he didnt stop. I am a disappointment. My family have cast me asunder. I am doomed to walk in the wilderness.