The Gambling Man

‘What should we tell the polis, lass?’ Paddy Connor now asked her quietly. That me son was out gamin’ last night an’ hasn’t come back? All right, they’ll say, let’s find him an’ push him along the line. Where was he gamin’? I don’t know, says I. Lass—’ his voice was still gentle—’we’ve thought of everything.’

Grannie Waggett, who was the only one seated, now turned in her chair and, her pale eyes sweeping the company, she said, ‘If you want my advice the lot of you, you’ll stop frashin’. It’s as Pat there says, he’s got into a game. He’s gamin’ mad, always has been. It affects some folks like that, like a poison in their blood. Some blokes take to drink, others to whorin’. . .’

‘Gran!‘

The old woman flashed a look on Janie. ‘Whorin’ I said, an’ whorin’ I mean, an’ for my part I’d rather have either of them than one that takes to gamin’, ’cos with them you’re sure of a roof over your head some time, but not with a gamer for he’d gamble the shift off your back an’ you inside it. There was this gentleman who used to come to the house when I was in service in Newcastle. Real gentleman, carriage an’ pair, fancy wife, mansion, he had. One day he had everything, next day nowt. I tell you, me girl—’ she turned and stabbed her finger towards Janie—’you want to put your foot down right from the start or get used to livin’ in the open, for I tell you, you won’t be sure of a roof . . .’

‘Be quiet, Ma.’

Grannie Waggett turned on her son. ‘Don’t you tell me to be quiet.’

‘Be quiet all of you, please.’ It was Ruth speaking gently. ‘What I think should be done is somebody should go down to the Infirmary, the new Infirmary. If anything had happened to him they’d take him there.’

‘And make a fool of themselves askin’.’

Ruth now looked at her husband. ‘I don’t mind lookin’ a fool, I’ll go.’

‘No, Ma.’ Jimmy who had not opened his mouth so far went towards the bottom of the ladder now, saying, ‘I’ll go, I’ll change me things an’ I’ll go.’

As he mounted upwards Collum said, ‘It’s odd it is that he made no mention of whereabouts he’d be, now isn’t it? But then again perhaps it isn’t; if he’d got set on in a big school the least said the soonest mended, for you can’t be too careful: the polis just need a whisper and it’s up their nose it goes like a sniff to a bloodhound.’

Up in the loft Jimmy went straight to a long wooden box and took out his Sunday coat and trousers, but he didn’t get into them immediately. For quite some minutes he stood with them gripped tight against his chest, his eyes closed, his lips moving as he muttered to himself, ‘Oh dear God! don’t let nowt happen our Rory. Please, please, don’t let nowt happen him.’

As he came down the ladder again, Janie said, ‘I’ll go with you.’ But he shook his head at her. ‘No, no, I’ll be better on me own. Well, what I mean is, I can get around the waterfront. If he’s not in the hospital I can get around and ask.’

‘Be careful.’

He turned to Lizzie and nodded, saying, ‘Aye; aye,’ and as he went to let himself out, Ruth followed him and, opening the door for him, said quietly, Don’t stay late, not in the dark, not around there.’

‘All right, Ma.’ He nodded at her, then went out.

He ran most of the way into Shields and wasn’t out of breath. He took no notice of the urchins who shouted after him:

‘Bow-legged Billy,
Bandy-randy,
One eye up the chimney, the other in the pot,
Poor little sod, yer ma’s given you the lot.’

At one time the rhyme used to hurt him but he was inured to it now. Nothing could hurt him, he told himself, except that something should happen to their Rory. He’d want to peg out himself if anything happened to their Rory. What was more, if it had already happened he would be to blame because if he hadn’t yarped on about the boatyard Rory wouldn’t have gone gambling . . . But, aye, he would, he would always gamble. But not at this new place, this big place he had gone to these past few Saturdays. He hadn’t let on where it was. He had asked him, but the laughing answer had been, ‘Ask no questions and you’ll get no lies . . .’

The porter at the Infirmary said, ‘No, lad, nobody the name of Connor’s been brought in the day. Then they don’t bring people in on a Sunday less it’s accidents like.’

‘Well, I was thinkin’ it could’ve been an accident.’

‘Well, there’s no Connor here, lad. Neither mister nor missis.’

‘Ta . . . thanks.’ He didn’t know whether he was disappointed or relieved.

He was going down the gravel drive when the porter’s voice hailed him, saying, ‘Just a minute! There’s a fella, but I hope it isn’t the one you’re lookin’ for. There was a bloke brought in round dinner-time, no name on him, nothing. He was found on the waterfront. Not a sailor. His clothes were respectable, what was left of them, but I expect by now he’s kicked the bucket.’

Jimmy walked slowly back towards the man, saying as he went, ‘What’s he like?’