CHAPTER 6
RACING CERTAINTY
It was a Monday and Jimmy Cockerel was walking the streets of Brisbane in a pensive mood. He was thinking to himself, should I pay all my money off me bills and neither eat nor drink for a week? Or, should I pay off half me bills, spend the other half on drink and forget about eating all together? Life is just too bloody awful to contemplate at times, he mused. There’s so little you can do on a pension. I think perhaps I should have a drink now, while I thinks it over. Then he spied his favourite watering-hole, the Elephant & Castle, looming up ahead and quickened his stride.
At the main bar he bought himself a tall, ice-cold, glass of beer and drank almost half of it quickly. Only then did he look around the bar for a friendly face, or a ‘soft touch’. He was then warmed by the sight of his old mate, Eddie Dick, sitting at the far end of the room. He took one more sip of beer and walked over. ‘Oh…‘ello, Eddie, old mate. How’s it goin’? He’d judged it well as Eddie’s beer glass was near empty and he quickly added. ‘You’s gettin’ ‘em in, are ya?’
‘Oh, alright, alright - you old bludger!’ said Eddie, standing up and making for the bar. He cast an eye back and said ‘Hey! Don’t you even think of pinchin’ me paper, right?’
‘No. No, mate. No, I wouldn’t,’ replied Jimmy, giving the racing paper a quick once-over. His mate soon returned from the bar with two overflowing fresh beers and Jimmy, indicating the paper, asked: ‘Didja find anything?… anything good in here, then? Anything you’s, like… want to pass on?’
‘No. Nothing in the crummy paper, old fella.’
‘Nothin’? You sure? You wouldn’t be holding out on a mate, would you’s?’
‘No! ‘Course not. But I may just have something, nonetheless.’
‘What? What is it then? Heard something, ‘ave you, when driving around in yer big Yellow Cab?’
‘Yeah! You could say, something like that.’
‘Well? Go on then, spill it!’
‘Oh, I don’t know as I should,’ said Eddie. ‘You ain’t given me nothing for a while, have you?’
‘No… ah, but I would, mate, if I ‘ad anythink. You’s know I would! But I don’t get about like you do, do I? I mean, you’s always picking up jockeys and trainers and owners and all that sort, in yer cab. Stands to reason you’d be onto something more often than me.’ He supped his beer. ‘Fair’s fair, mate. If you’ve got it, you should share it. Them’s the rules. That’s what mateship’s all about, right? Watcher want me to do; get darn on me knees an’ beg?’
‘Well, I ain’t never had anything from this source before, you see, so I don’t know how good it is. That’s why I’m a bit… hesitant. Besides, I know how bloody mad you can get if a tip goes sour on you.’
‘Oh, rubbish… rubbish. There’s bin times, I admit, when I may have expressed my disappointment.’
‘Express your disappointment! Mate! They had to practically rebuild this bloody bar the last time you did your nut! You can’t have forgotten that, surely? It ain’t all that long ago.’
‘Yeah, well, that don’t mean I don’t appreciate you a givin’ me the ‘word’ now and again - like now fer instance, when I’m in need, as it were.’
‘Well…’
‘Come on then, I’m a list’nin’.’
‘Alright. Couple of days ago I was dropping off this young lady in the city, see – nice bit o’ goods too and when she goes to pay me, she’s got too much in her hands like and she somehow manages to drop a bag of oranges that spill all over the pavement. Now of course, I chases after them, reefing them in and picking them up. I mean anybody would. While I was down there, boy, did I got a real close look at her legs too – cooooh…!’
‘Cut it out… An’ get on wid it - right!’
‘Oh alright, alright. Don’t get your knickers in a knot! Anyway. We’d just got everything back together again, when bang…!’
‘Bang? You mean a shootin’, or summit?’
‘No you sill old bugger! No, I mean she goes an’ drops another bag and all these apples of hers go rolling out into the street.’
‘What? Of course, you let ‘em go, I mean surely you didn’t.’
‘I did. I did. I know it was daft, but I dodged in and out amongst the cars, picking them up – driver’s laughing and leering and horns a blaring.’
‘You must ‘ave bin orf your flamin’ rocker. You could ‘ave been killed yer mug, yer idiot!’
‘Yeah, then where would you cadge a drink?’
‘What?’
‘But, that wasn’t the end of it.’
‘No?’
‘No. You see, as she struggles to open her bag to pay me, she drops her purse and her money an’ cards go flying!’
‘What is this? Somebody set you up did they? Like a ‘candid camera’ type joke… or summit?’
‘No. Nothing like that. It was just one of those things. Anyway, again I’m down on the ground a scrabbling for her goods.’
‘And a pervin’ up ‘er skirt too, I s’pose?’
‘No, no… ‘course not! She’s very grateful and she insists on giving me a sizeable tip.’
‘Oh? You mean a cash tip?’
‘Yeah! Yeah, well, as I said she was some lady.’
‘‘Cause I was ‘opin’, mate, this conversation might, just might relate to what we punters call a ‘red-hot’ tip. That’s what!’
‘Yes, well… that an’ all!’
‘What? You mean this really ‘as got summit to do with the bloody nags!’
‘Don’t go getting the hump, Jimmy boy. I’m getting to that.’
‘Getting to it? Good. About flippin’ time!’ At that moment, Jimmy was able to catch a passing barman by the arm. ‘Hey! Hey, me mate ‘ere wants you to bring us a couple more beers – right?’
Eddie nodded in agreement. ‘She was so distressed I had to let her sit back in the cab. To sort herself out, her being a lady, like… with ‘things’ to adjust and touch up – you understand? It only takes her a few minutes, of course. Then, then she says something you’ll never believe.’
‘Try me.’
‘Well, she says: “Cabbie” she says, “I’m very much obliged to you, for your help in this most stressful situation.”’
Jimmy starts to drum his fingers on the table in impatience.
‘Then she says, “I’ve had a run of things going wrong this week. My dear old gran used to say that when that sort of thing happens, as it does to all of us at some time or another.”’
Jimmy drums his fingers some more.
‘Stop it you stupid old man, or I won’t give you the punch line!’
‘You mean there is a punch line?’
‘There is, but only if you sit there, shut up and listen quietly.’
‘I’m all ears, mate.’
‘I know, I’ve noticed. Now where was I?’
‘Takin’ advice from some dear old granny.’
‘Oh, yes. Her dear old gran said that whenever she needed to break a run of bad vibes she should do a distinct act of kindness to somebody to break the spell. She said it always worked.’
‘Oh, good – good,’ Jimmy interrupted. ‘Now let me guess the rest, she came right out and asked you to go back to her place, where she could do you a favour, of some sort.’
‘That’s it!’ said Eddie, very much annoyed. He stood up. ‘I’m going. I don’t know why I ever thought of sharing this with you, in the first bloody place.’
‘No, no. No, mate,’ said Jimmy, ‘Please don’t go. I’m ever so sorry. Playing the fool is, is kind of… in me nature, like. It’s a burden I have to bear.’
‘But it’s not your burden, mate, is it? It’s a burden that all of us other poor bastards have to bear and that’s a fact.’
‘Ok. Have it your way. Perhaps you’re right. But you might as well finish it orf, since you’ve gorn so far, mate – eh?’
‘Oh, alright. But one mo
re crack out of you and I’m off, after… after I’ve belted you one, right?’
‘Right.’
Eddie sat down again to continue the tale. ‘So she asked me if I liked an occasional bet and when I said I did, she said her husband, obviously much older than her, her being a mere child; was a politician and one of his jobs was being on the racing board in this state. Get the picture now - eh? See where it’s all going now, Jimmy boy?’
‘Bloody hell… a tip?’
‘An inside tip! A red-hot tip!’
‘From the bloody top too. Woo-ooh! But what nag are we talkin’ about here, Eddie?’
‘Calm down, calm down. ‘Dancing Lady’, is the one. She said ‘Dancing Lady’ was supposed to be withdrawn from the big race Saturday because of injury, you know that - right?’
‘Yer, everybody knows that!’
‘Well, she said that simply ain’t so.’
‘Ain’t so? You mean…’
‘Yes! It’s a scam! There’s really nothing wrong with the bloody nag and she’ll be re-entered in the race at the last possible moment. Get this: her husband – who’s supposed to keep the game clean by the way, is putting $50,000 on her nose.’
‘The bloody crook! The bastard! I hates public corruption! But, then… hey! What about us? What’s the odds? Whatever they are, we gotta get in on it.’
‘Well, the odds were a tad higher yesterday, but today they’re going at around 33 to one!’
‘Wow! That sounds good enough fer me, mate!’ They pulled on their beers and clinked their glasses. Then Jimmy asked, ‘What do you reckon then. It will work, won’t it?’
‘I dunno. There’s a lot of people out there that have to be trusted to keep their mouths shut if it’s going to work. There are always weak links, always. People like, well, my lady for instance and you… you old bugger.’
‘Me! Damn it. I can keep my mouth shut, if I ‘ave to.’
‘Well, you’d better, because the ‘big boys’ who are in on this won’t take kindly to anybody who rocks the boat – get my drift? I’d hate to have them come knocking on my door and me having to tell ‘em about you.’
‘Me? Oh, Jesus! Don’t talk like that.’
‘You? It wouldn’t matter to anybody if you was in hospital for six months. But me, I have to earn a living! Anyway, just so as you understand.’
‘Oh, I do. I understand alright. I’m goin’ ‘ome, now. I’m gonna pawn everything, sell everything, raise as much as I can. Meet you here Saturday, then. What time?’
‘Twelve o’clock, on the nose.’
‘On the nose? I like that. A good omen, eh? I’m off, then. See you Saturday.’
Saturday for Jimmy was an absolute disaster. They sat in the bar watching the race on cable TV and ‘Dancing Lady’ waltzed in, third from last in a ten horse race!
Eddie expected Jimmy to throw a tantrum and was ready for it, but he didn’t. Not a word was said. He simply finished his beer, wiped his mouth, stood up and walked out.
On the Monday, Eddie came in the pub to find Jimmy, shoulders hunched and long faced, propping up the bar. He thought he’d better break the ice. ‘Hey, mate! No hard feelings, I hope, Jimmy boy, eh?’
‘Don’t you ‘Jimmy boy’, me you, you… Judas! Piss orf! Find yerself another mug.’
‘Hey, hey, hey! A long time betting man like you should be used to the occasional hard knocks.’
‘Hard flippin’ knocks? I’d just love to give yer some bloody ‘hard knocks’ right now. I would too, ‘cept I ain’t eaten for two days on account you lost me every dollar I had.’
‘Oh, Jesus. I didn’t know. I really didn’t! If I had, I’d have offered to buy you a damn good feed or two, mate. You should have said, instead of walking out like that.’
‘Piss orf, will yer!’
‘Look, I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘Tell me? Huh! I ain’t ever going to listen to you and yer glory stories ever again. Never, never, never! Now git!’
‘I saw her, today’
‘What? What that bitch? Wot did she ‘ave to say for ‘erself? Cryin’ her eyes out, wuz she?’
‘Well, almost, I was driving down this here road and I sees her with some young tear-arse a fighting over her handbag. So I blasts me horn, accelerates and drives up on the kerb, get’s out with a tyre iron in hand and the bugger does a bunk. A pity, because I was dying to cream him, the young bastard!
‘Was she alright, not that I’m interested?’
‘Yeah. Yeah she was fine. A bit shook up, but alright. She had just come out of the bookies with her old man’s winnings, you see. The young punk must have been watching her, I reckon. It was obvious he thought he was on a good thing, like.’
‘You what? Hey, now. You don’t act surprised that her old man had ‘winnings’.’
‘No. If you hadn’t a run off like that on Saturday, you wouldn’t either; ‘cause I would have told you.’
‘Told me what, for Christ’s sake?’
‘I would have told you that she rang me early on Saturday and told me that there had been a change of plan. Somebody, somebody had leaked, or so they thought, because too much money was going on ‘Dancing Lady’’
‘You knew this, before the bloody race?’
‘Yes. Yes, I knew. They were switching, she said to Plan B.’
‘What the hell was Plan B?’
‘Simple, they decided to forget all about ‘Dancing Lady’ and concentrate the money on a horse called ‘Pinto’ – only it wouldn’t be ‘Pinto’ that was running. It would be a cracking top horse, whose name we are not to know.’
‘You mean ‘Pinto’ won, but wasn’t really ‘Pinto’, it was a ringer?’
‘Right! You got it!’
‘You just sat there and watched our money go down on ‘Dancing Lady?’’
‘No. No, mate. I switched our money, yours and mine; over to ‘Pinto’.’
‘You mean your money, my money – our money, was on that crooked ringer? That’s disgustin’! And highly illegal!’
‘Right. It is, but it won! We won!’
‘You bloody beauty, mate!’
‘I thought you’d like it.’
‘Like it? It’s the best thing ever happened to me in my entire life!’
‘Good. I’m pleased about that, very pleased. Your money is in this here shopping bag, but don’t show it to anyone. Don’t even open it until you get home, right?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, of course.’
‘Good. So, perhaps you’d like to buy me a drink for a change.’
‘Sure. But why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me about the switch before the race started?’
‘I, I was rather hoping you wouldn’t ask me that, mate. I mean, of course I knew you wouldn’t blab. No, no. But others in this pub, well... they aren’t always so trusting, are they?’
‘Perhaps not.’
‘No. We were both on an honest to goodness, racing, bloody, certainty, mate. So let’s just say, I didn’t want to spoil your fun. Cheers!’
‘Cheers!’ said Jimmy, tossing back his beer. Then he calmly picked up Eddie’s beer and stood the glass, upside down, on his head. As the beer flowed down his face, round his shoulders and into his lap, he said ‘Thanks, mate. But don’t’cha ever put me through that sort of bloody trauma ever ag’in!’ and he walked out, smiling.