Page 39 of A Midlife Gamble

‘Husbands?’ she stammered. ‘Just the one. Ex.’

‘Very sensible,’ Emma squinted. ‘Yes, you look like a sensible kind of gal.’

Kay smiled. Sensible? She might as well have it tattooed on her forehead. So sensible, strangers could decide it within seconds. She felt something heavy turn over in her chest. She was sensible and she was dying, two words that shouldn’t be in the same sentence and never would have been if she too had managed to work through five husbands.

‘Ladies.’ Tony returned, nodding as he slipped into a seat next to Joanne.

Joanne and Emma nodded back.

‘Do you know them?’ Kay whispered.

‘They’re regulars,’ Tony whispered back. ‘Are you ready to jump straight in? What’s your strategy going to be?’

‘Strategy?’

Tony smiled. ‘You don’t have one?’

Kay shook her head, all sorts of ideas competing for attention. Was now, for example, the time to confess that she had never done this before? That the most she’d ever staked was a pile of matchsticks? She wasn’t like Emma and Joanne, in their glitter jumpers and diamond hair slides. She was sensible Kay, with one ex-husband and a Vegas jacket that had been worn to various suburban parties, a few upmarket dinners, but not once in the place it had been bought for. A destination so extraordinary in the life of an overweight, middle-aged maths teacher, that even when Caro had presented the tickets, when the plane had touched down, when they’d walked along the strip and mingled with the Elvis lookalikes, she still hadn’t quite understood her dream. Yes, Vegas was fun, yes she had thoroughly enjoyed herself but (and for the first time ever she thought she was finally beginning to understand why she had never come, why she had never even tried)…thiswas the dream. Never mind everything else that Vegas had to offer, it was the chance to pit her skills against real players, at a real table in a real game, that she had unconsciously harboured, and equally unconsciously dismissed as being for other, more adventurous types. For those prepared to take a gamble, which she wasn’t. And yet, finally, here she was! And it felt exactly the place she should be. And she wondered why she’d excluded herself all these years, come to such quick and restrictive conclusions about herself.

‘Never split on a twenty,’ Tony was saying.

Kay Burrell. That’s who she was. Kay Burrell, with a first-class degree in mathematics, and a brain still as sharp as a shard. And she was also Kay Burrell, with stage four melanoma, so what exactly – her hand balled to a fist – yes, what did she have to lose? ‘That would just turn a good hand into two mediocre hands,’ she said as she turned to Tony.

His eyes opened.

‘And when the dealer draws a six, it’s good. He has to deal to seventeen, right?’

Tony nodded.

‘So the next draw can only take him to sixteen, and then the odds of him drawing five or less aren’t as good as him going bust?’

Tony’s smile was slow but wide. ‘I can see we’re going have some fun,’ he said.

‘Hope so,’ Kay said and smiled, a sea of prickling excitement running up and down her arms. She wasn’t in the land of matchsticks now and she couldn’t have been happier!

‘Ok.’ Tony dropped his voice, his face serious. ‘But a couple of things you might not know. Hand signals are obligatory. Wave your right hand above the cards when you’re sticking.’ He mimed the movement. ‘Tap the table with your finger for a hit.’ He rolled his eyes to look up at the ceiling.

‘Eye in the sky,’ Emma drawled, ‘needs those hand signals.’

‘Got it,’ Kay whispered. My goodness, she was excited, like she was ten years old and on the threshold of being initiated into a very cool and very secret club. And although her nerves hadn’t completely vanished, she looked across the table at Joanne, and then back at nearly-bald Emma. If ever, she thought, a group of women were on borrowed time, it’s us. And she opened her purse and took out her money.

Mathematician or not,she was an unmistakable novice at professional Blackjack, finding herself on the receiving end of reprimands from nearly everyone at the table. Placing her bets in the wrong position, touching her cards, even at one point forgetting those all-important hand signals. But it was all good natured.

‘It’s the five bucks table, honey,’ Emma explained. ‘Nobody gives a shit.’

Which seemed remarkable to Kay, because five dollars or not, the chips were stacking up. On her first hand she went bust. Five dollars down. On her second hand the dealer turned over a natural Blackjack. Ten dollars down. The third hand she was dealt two queens.

‘Double down,’ Tony whispered.

Kay separated her cards, took another chip and placed it on the second queen. She tapped the table, watching as the dealer turned over first a nine, and then a ten. Then feigning confidence, she waved her hand a little dramatically across her cards. Her heart picked up; her mouth pursed. Win or lose, she was ready to laugh. She was in for twenty dollars now. Ten on each hand. The dealer drew first a ten and then a four. The odds were in her favour. She bit down on her lip, her eyes on the dealers’ hands. He turned over an eight. Twenty-two! BUST! She could almost hear her father’s voice, see him gathering in his matchsticks.

Twenty dollars! Turning to Tony, Kay grinned and he was grinning too. He’d won as well with a much larger bet. But twenty dollars! The thrill was such that it could have been twenty hundred.

Within another ten minutes her bankroll had grown to eighty dollars. Another ten and she was nudging a hundred. Not that she had any idea of the time. She’d forgotten what time was. She’d forgotten the way Helen had stalked off and she’d forgotten Caro’s strained expression. She even forgotten Caro’s news. Her mind had narrowed down, focused itself on everything that she was innately comfortable with. Probabilities and advantages and the instinct to keep a track of those high value cards.Statistical advantage, Kay.Now she could hear her father’s voice. It was so clear and she was so sure of the memory that if she could have called him, she would have. Interrupted his early evening television to ask.Do you remember, dad?But she couldn’t, and so she just kept playing and she just kept winning. And somewhere she knew it wasn’t down to pure luck.

After a while, Tony put his hands on the table and, pushing down, flexed his fingers. He looked across at her pile of chips and then back at his. ‘What do you say we change tables?’ he said.

Kay looked at her chips and then his. From her side view, she thought she saw Emma and Joanne exchange a glance.

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