The Outside Chance
By Jan Carew ¡öƽ³£
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It's a funny thing about money. If you haven't
got it, you think it's the most important thing in the
world. That's what I used to think, too. I don't any more, though, and
I learned the hard way.1
When I was at school, we had this English master.
He was always quoting to us from famous writers. I wasn't very interested,
and I don't remember much about it now. But it's funny how things come
back to you. He used to say:
"When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our
prayers.Ó2
Sounds a bit daft,3 doesn't
it? Well, I didn't understand it then, either, but I can tell you what
it means now. It means if you want something really badly, you'll probably
get it. But you'll probably get it in a way you don't expect.
I mean, you might have to pay a price you didn't
bargain for.
It started one rainy day, when I was coming home
from work.
I'm a motor mechanic, and I liked working in the
garage. But, I was restless. I'd always had this dream of owning my own
business. Nothing big¡ªjust something I could build up. I don't mind hard
work, you see, if I'm working for myself. That's why I'd left my mum and
dad in the North, and come to London. I thought I'd make more money that
way.
We'd had arguments about it. My dad and me. He didn't
see why I should want to leave home when I had enough to live on.
Enough! Enough for what? I used to ask him. To
live as he had in a council house all his life, with nothing to look
forward to but a gold watch and a pension?
Oh, I was fond of him, you see, and it annoyed
me to see him so content. He had nothing to show for all those years
of work in that noisy factory.
Anyway, all this was on my mind, as I walked home
that night. The rain didn't help, either. I remember thinking, if only
I could get out of the rut, if only I could get a thousand quid4¡ªjust
that, just a thousand.
I stopped and bought a newspaper outside the Tube.5
I thought it would take my mind off things on the way home. I could
read about other people's troubles for a change. See what films were
on.
I don't know when I first realised there was something
wrong with the paper. It looked ordinary enough. But there was something
about it that didn't seem quite right. As if there was a gap in the news.
As if it was a jump ahead. So, in the end, I looked at the front page,
and instead of Tuesday 22nd November, it said Wednesday 23rd November.
"My God," I thought, "it's tomorrow's paper!"
I didn't believe it to start with. But it did explain
why all the news was different. There couldn't be any other explanation.
Somehow, I had bought tomorrow's paper¡ªtoday!
And that was the moment I realised it. The moment
I realised that all my prayers could be answered. My hands were shaking
so much that I could hardly turn the pages. But they were there. The
results of tomorrow's races!
I looked at the winners, and chose from them carefully.
I picked only the outsiders that had won at prices like 30-1.6
There was even one at 50-1! A horse I would never have thought of betting
on.
Next morning, I went to the bank, and drew out
just about all I had ¡ª¡ê150. I laid my bets during my lunch hour. I went
to several shops. I didn't want anyone to become suspicious.
It's a funny thing, but I just knew they'd come up.
And¡ªGod forgive me¡ªI never stopped to think why I had been given this
chance to see into the future.
They did come up¡ªevery one of them. All I had to
do was to go round and collect, and I couldn't wait to get home and count
my money. A cool ¡ê4,000!!
Well, nothing could stop me now! I'd give in my
notice at work the next day, and look for a place of my own. Wait till
I told Mum and Dad! They'd hardly be able to believe it.
I switched on the television, but I couldn't concentrate
on it. I kept thinking what I'd do with the money. I hardly heard a word
of the programme.
Then the news came on.
The announcer mentioned Selby. That was where my
parents lived. I began to listen.
There had been an explosion up there, that afternoon,
followed by a fire in a factory. Twenty-two people had been killed,
and many more were in hospital. I don't remember the rest¡ªsomething about
a government enquiry.
I stopped listening, but I couldn't move out of
the chair. I think I must've known then that my dad was dead¡ªeven before
the telegram came.
The newspaper had fallen on the floor. I picked
it up, not realising what I was doing. Then, I saw it¡ªin "Stop Press".
FACTORY DISASTER IN SELBY. MANY FEARED DEAD. I hadn't seen it before.
I'd been too busy picking winners. I could've saved my dad's life, but
I'd been too busy picking bloody winners.7
I don't often cry, but the words swam in front of me then.
There isn't much more to tell. I got my own business,
and I'm doing well. As for my Mum, she was paid insurance by the firm
that owned the factory, so she's better off than she ever was. The only
thing is, she doesn't care if she's alive or dead now my Dad's gone.
When the gods wish to punish us, they make a damn
good job of it.
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