GAMBLING INTO OBLIVION
By
Ron Shillingford
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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Gambling Into Oblivion
Copyright © 2011 by Ron Shillingford
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The old man walking past the house looked into the front window with a sunken heart as Harriet threw the fifty pound notes into the air, squealing with delight.
Precious, the golden retriever jumped around her, trying to catch the money. Precious loved these occasions too as a juicy celebratory steak would soon be in her bowl. Harriet’s husband Vince grabbed the dog’s front paws, dancing comically.
“Vince, you’re absolutely brilliant.”
“Get ready, darling, it’s a Mayfair night.”
Vince’s six grand win at the bookies meant another champagne dinner at a swank London hotel and overnight stay.
They hugged. He had a canny knack for taking the bookies to the cleaners with bets on sporting events, especially in football, cricket, boxing and athletics.
Never horses or dogs though. “They’re for mugs,” was Vince’s mantra. “Big bets too are for donuts. Never more than a pony for me.”
This was the third time in as many months one of his accumulators had come through. This time the odds were two hundred and forty to one.
A pony is cockney for twenty-five pounds and by sticking to this rule, it never became a problem. “I’m just a dipper; it’s more a hobby than a habit.”
Vince’s quantity surveyor’s salary and Harriet’s income from interior designing meant a comfortable life in suburbia. The detached house in West Hampstead almost paid off, a Honda Accord and Lexus in the driveway and six-figure savings account, confirmed their social standing.
Their daughter Francine was in her last year at Durham University, set to train for a career as a chartered accountant.
Life for the Masons could not be better.
In the excitement of celebrating Harriet forgot to draw the blinds. When she spotted Alfie Dawson looking in, there was brief eye contact.
She had stopped talking to Alfie two months previously. So what if he was her father?
Harriet cut off ties after Alfie divorced her mother, Maisie, his wife of forty-six years and moved into his house bubbly, buxom Wendy, who was only a few years older than Harriet. It all happened so suddenly, Harriet barely had time to take it all in.
Her parents were secretive about their failing marriage until the last. Maisie was able to buy a classy three-bed apartment in Finchley from the divorce settlement, but she was devastated. Harriet’s allegiance was solely with her mother.
Alfie lived in the next street. He deliberately walked past her house occasionally, hoping for a glimpse of his estranged family.
Alfie never stopped loving his only child. His dismay at watching them celebrating the win stemmed from seeing too many people’s lives ruined from the perils of gambling. Before the estrangement Alfie had seen several Vince wins celebrated that way. As far as the old man was concerned, it would only end in tears.
“Gambling ain’t no good, son,” Alfie insisted. “My old man preferred to back the nags than pay bills and we lived in virtual poverty all our lives.” Vince was undeterred.
The fact that Harriet was a snob as well was another reason for cutting Alfie off. Ashamed of his working class diction, politics and attitude to life, it was easy to turn her back on him. He was a staunch union man and voted Labour, she Conservative. A favourite meal out for him was Indian curry washed down with copious pints of beer, hers was sushi and Chablis.
Brought up in a council flat in Maida Vale, Alfie’s plumbing business generated enough to move up in the world and pamper his demanding daughter. Harriet went to Cheltenham private school and studied at Sussex University, which is where her airs and graces derived.
Hers was a privileged upbringing considering Alfie’s background. There were horse riding lessons, school skiing trips and holidays in New York with the cool set at uni. Alfie and Maisie spoilt her rotten with barely a word returned in gratitude.
Hard working and unselfish, Alfie’s only extravagance was following Formula One motor racing. He absolutely loved it, going to every British grand prix and some on the continent too.
Apart from Alfie’s irritating appearances, Harriet’s life was perfectly balanced.
The only concern was Vince doing so well with his sporting bets that giving up his day job to gamble full-time had become an obsession. At forty-nine he was looking forward to a big fiftieth party and a more exciting life.
“The extra income would be nice but it is immoral and potentially dangerous,” Harriet insisted. “Let’s pay off the mortgage first darling then decide.”
She had no intention of being married to a professional gambler. The women at the pottery classes would be appalled.
Tiring of the daily grind of his job, Vince reluctantly agreed.
He enjoyed a flutter on sports events for years with great success. Keen to increase his pension pot and pay off the mortgage quicker, Vince took to online poker gambling.
What Harriet didn’t know was that before they met, Vince had been a keen poker player, but wasn’t good, made substantial losses and had to be bailed out by kindly parents.
Initially Vince kept to his twenty-five pounds limit when playing online, a laptop his constant companion, day and night.
“That laptop gets far more attention than me. Sure you’re not dating online, sweetie.”
“Just playing Wordscraper on Facebook dear. I’m addicted.”
He had an addiction all right, only it was far from harmless.
Initially things went well and he was a few grand up. But then the losses started. Considerable amounts too.
To cover up, Vince began taking risks with the sporting bets, breaking his golden rule, upping the maximum outlay to fifty pounds. Then it went to one hundred. Soon it became reckless. Thousands were going into the black hole of misery.
“Vince, have you seen my Rolex, I thought it was in my jewellery box?”
“Oh, I took it into the shop.”
“Why, it was working perfectly last week.”
“It needed its ten year service.”
“Oh, okay. When will it be back?”
“A couple of months.”
“That’s an awfully long time dear.”
“They send it to Switzerland, that’s why.”
She didn’t question it but was not convinced. Vince had sold it for three grand. Whenever she asked for it he had an excuse.
Harriet noticed the changes, small at first. Vince no longer brought home white carnations, nor bottles of Chablis for her. Their Friday night ‘dates’ to expensive restaurants that he always paid for stopped, always backed up by a plausible excuse.
Then the penny pinching began. He started turning off lights and electrical appliances not being used, moaning about the food bill, how much Precious cost to keep and how Francine’s monthly allowance was a little excessive.
He seemed on edge all the time and was smoking two packs of Marlboro a day in the garden, instead of one.
Loose change around the house was disappearing and Harriet thought she was getting really forgetful because there always seemed to be less money in her purse than she remembered.
“Let’s stay in England and help the struggling British economy this year Harriet.”
“But you know I love my holidays in Italy darling. Why the change of heart?”
“I just fancy going somewhere close, like Brighton or Bournemouth.”
“Vince! What would the ladies at the pottery class say? Can’t do that dear, the gossip mill would go into overdrive.”
“Nevertheless, I think we should cut down on our out goings, the recession could affect us too.”
“No, I insist. I fancy Naples this time and possibly Florence again.”
With a worried look, Vince went outside to smoke.
Harriet finished loading the dish washer. She too was concerned. Things didn’t seem right. Vince was always hurrying to get the letters first when the postman delivered. He no longer went to the gym, claiming it was a waste of money. He was eating less and looking gaunt behind the reflective glare of the laptop.
The next morning she was about to leave home later than usual for a dental appointment and all the months of Vince’s erratic behaviour immediately made sense after a call on the house phone.
“Good morning, can I speak to Vince Mason please.”
“Well, he’s not here. Can I take a message, I’m his wife.”
“Yes, can you ask him to ring Graham Wells, loans manager, at HSBC bank.”
“Hello, Mr Wells. I’m Harriet Mason. Is there a problem?”
“Well to be perfectly frank Mrs Mason, there is a big one.”
“And what could that be?”
“I think you should know that your husband is heavily in debt to us.”
“What! Surely, there’s some mistake. How much?”
Not comprehending the situation, the next few words had the impact on Harriet as if hit by a baseball bat.
“I’m afraid he owes us over eighty-five thousand pounds.”
A tight knot gripped her stomach.
“Surely there must be some mistake, Mr Wells.”
“No, I can assure you that is the situation. Can I make an appointment for you both to come in so that we can sort something out?”
The rest of the conversation was a blur. Harriet cancelled her dental appointment and went in the study where Vince kept his mail.
An even bigger shock awaited her.
She felt like vomiting after seeing the correspondence from creditors. Credit card companies, banks and loan sharks were all demanding their money. Bailiffs were threatening immediate action.
In the space of a few months Vince had racked up hundreds of thousands of pounds in debts. Worse still, he had evidently falsified her signature and remortgaged the house. Insurance policies were cancelled, energy bills, mortgage and Francine’s university fees all unpaid. Stacks of final demands, threats of legal action and court proceedings filled the drawers.
Harriet downed her fourth glass of wine trying to block out the numbness and pain. She passed out.
“Mum, are you okay?”
Francine’s worried face and the realisation that it was not a horrible nightmare triggered Harriet to cry uncontrollably. It was early evening. Francine was home for the Easter break from university.
“Mum! What’s wrong? What is it? Is it dad? Nanny Maisie? Grandpa Alfie? What?”
Distressed, Francine cried too.
Harriet’s explanation was incomprehensible through the tears.
Just then they heard the front door shut. Vince was home.
When he walked into the lounge Harriet’s cold stare through the tears of anger and fear told the story. A tingle of relief mixed with panic and shame overcame him.
Even though they were ruined, the stress of all the deceit was over.
The next few weeks were the toughest of Harriet’s life. Dealing with all the creditors was draining and demoralising.
Thankfully, there was enough equity on their house to remortgage again and start paying off the debts, albeit on a long-term basis.
Harriet took over all the finances, inspecting their accounts online daily.
The only laptop allowed in the house was Francine’s which was never left out of her sight and certainly not in Vince’s hands.
Francine said regularly: “Dad, please don’t gamble again. It’s not worth the risk of losing our happiness. I just can’t see what the attraction is.”
Vince reassured Francine that he would never gamble again. Ever. Their marriage took the strain and survived. Just.
Vince said repeatedly: “I’m sorry Harriet. It will never happen again. It just all sneaked up on me. Gambling went from a hobby to a compulsion.”
Harriet believed Vince’s sincerity. He had never given her any reason to doubt him before.
A year later with an uneasy truce established, Harriet noticed Vince was spending an inordinate amount of time in his den at the bottom of the garden. She made a cup of tea and walked stealthily towards the den. For once, the noisy Precious was left in the house.
As she entered she caught a glimpse of the laptop screen.
He was playing online poker.
“Why the hell are you playing again Vince? And where did you get the money from to bet?”
He looked sheepish.
“I won some money on a ten pound sporting accumulator in the bookies and sorry love, I couldn’t resist it.”
In the space of a few weeks, somehow Vince had racked up another forty-two thousand in debts.
“This time it’s all over, Vincent Mason. I can’t trust you anymore.”
Divorce was not an easy option for Harriet. She had her pride, but self-preservation was more important.
Vince begged over and over for forgiveness and started going to Gamblers Anonymous.
But the extra debt was too much to bear – and the fact that his gambling addiction was evidently still out of control.
“Dad, how could you be so irresponsible?” Francine asked him. “You’ve ruined all our lives.”
The house was put on the market. A buyer was found and with a few weeks to go before the divorce finalised and the house sold the atmosphere in the Mason household was fraught.
Francine came into the kitchen smiling, holding an envelope.
“Mum, I know it sounds crazy but I’ve kept in touch with Grandpa Alfie behind your back and when I told him about our situation he insisted on giving me this for you.”
Harriet took the envelope slowly as if handling a suspect parcel bomb.
She opened it and pulled out a cheque. It was made payable to her and for one hundred and twenty thousand pounds.
Alfie’s love for his daughter was as strong as ever. Little did she know that the bulk of the money came from Alfie putting a series of big bets on Sebastian Vettel becoming the world champion Formula One driver years earlier when Alfie read articles on the German ace’s brilliance as a teenage karting champ.
Her money worries were over. Harriet phoned her father to thank him and this time their relationship was a warm one.
Vince continued to attend Gamblers Anonymous and even opened his own chapter.
Gambling may have almost ruined the Masons but thanks to Alfie Dawson, it had helped rekindle his relationship with his daughter and saved a marriage.
The next time Alfie walked past Harriet’s house, he was welcomed in. They hugged.
Harriet opened a bottle of Chablis and pulled out a Budweiser from the fridge for her father.
Vince joined in the celebration. Francine called down that she was finishing a university project and would join them soon.
An hour later Francine was still upstairs. Smiling, Harriet entered her bedroom quietly with a glass of wine for her.
Harriet’s smile turned to dismay as Francine hurriedly shut down her laptop.
Francine blushed with guilt. There was no mistaking what she had been doing.
Even in a split second’s viewing, Harriet knew the difference between a university project and an online poker site.