The Gambling Man

As he stared back into her face which was livid with passion, he thought, even if Charlotte were to die at this minute I wouldn’t go back to her; I could never live with her again. His thoughts, swirling back over the past, tried to find the man he had been, the man who had loved this woman, the man who had sworn always to love her, but in vain. And so he said, ‘Do what you think you have to do; if it’ll make you feel any better go the whole hog; but I’d like to remind you that Shields isn’t the only town on the planet. The world is wide and when you have money you can settle where you like.’ He felt no compunction now at throwing his money at her.

He stared at her a moment longer. She was not recognizable to him; the white hair, the brown skin, even her eyes were no longer Janie’s. He pulled on his hat, saying, ‘Well, that’s that; the rest is up to you,’ and, turning, went out; and as he always did on these visits, Jimmy followed him into the yard.

It was a bright evening; the twilight was long in passing. They walked side by side down to the end of the yard and stood against the railing bordering the river. The moored boats were bobbing on the water beneath them. They stood looking down into them, until he asked, ‘Do you blame me?’

There was a short pause before Jimmy answered, ‘No, not really, Rory, no. But . . . but I’m sorry for her. I can see her side of it an’ all.’

‘Well, I would expect you to ’cos she has got a side. And I’m sorry for her too. At this moment I’m sorry for us all.’

He looked up and down the river as he said, ‘Things were going so fine. I was riding high, I was me own man. Even with Charlotte’s money I was me own man, because I knew I was making meself felt in the business.’ He looked down at Jimmy. ‘You know, as I said, we could go away. I thought of that as I came along. We could move to any place in the country, but somehow I don’t want to leave this town. And I know she doesn’t. But anyway, no matter where we go we’ll see you’re all right.’

‘Aw . . . aw, don’t worry about me, Rory, I’ll get through. And you’ve done more than enough already. By the way, I didn’t tell you, ’cos you’ve got enough on your plate, but those buggers down there must have been up to something last night. I heard somebody in the yard, more than one. I . . . I thought they were comin’ under the house, and then a patrol boat came up and stopped—it stops most nights—and I heard nothing after that. I . . . I was a bit scared.’

‘Get Richardson to come along and stay with you.’

‘Aye, I will, but I think I must look for somebody else, somebody single. You see, he’s got his wife and family.’

‘You do that. Tell them they’ll be well paid.’

Jimmy nodded; then he asked quietly, ‘What’s going to happen her . . . Janie? I mean, will she want to go on livin’ here? It’s awkward. She says she’s going up home the night or the morrow. Well, if she does she might decide to stay up there.’

‘Home? Huh!’ Rory tossed his head back. They’ll have a field day with this. Our dear Lizzie will come out with all the sayings back to Noah: As ye sow so shall ye reap; Pride goes before a fall; Big heid small hat. Oh, I can hear her.’

‘I . . . I don’t think so, Rory. You know, I’ve always meant to say this to you, but you don’t see Lizzie as she really is. She’s all right is Lizzie, and I’ve never been able to understand why you still hold it against her. And I look at it this way: after what’s happened to you if you don’t see her side now you never will.’

‘Aye. Aye, I suppose you’re right . . . Well, I’ll be off. I . . . won’t come back as long as she’s here. Come up, will you, whenever you can and let me know how things are going? I’ll want to know when I’m to expect the authorities.’

‘All right, Rory, I’ll let you know. Tell Charlotte I wish her well, and I’m sorry . . .’

‘I will; shell be grateful. So long then.’

‘So long, Rory, so long.’

They looked at each other for a moment longer, then Rory turned away and walked slowly out of the yard.

Jimmy waited a while before returning to the house, and it was as he mounted the steps that he heard her crying. When he entered the room he saw her, her face buried in her arms on the table, her body shaking.

He did not go to her but went and sat by the side of the fire and, following his habit, he brought his foot on to his knee again and stroked his ankle vigorously. It would do her good, he told himself, to cry it out. Perhaps it would wash away some of the bitterness in her.

After a moment he slid his foot off his knee and looked down at the triangular shape made by his legs; he had always hated them for from the beginning they had erased any hope of him ever finding a lass of his own; no lass wanted to be seen walking the streets alongside him. He had gone through a lot of body torment, and occasionally he still did, but these feelings he mostly sublimated in his affection for the family and his love for Rory . . . Aye, and her sitting behind him there.