Broken (16 page)

“
Thanks
mate.” he said. “We’ll see you later.”

As Ian, Bruce and Vic hurried
away to the roulette tables I turned and headed back to the slot
machines.

By two
o
’clock I’d reached the daily limit on my
credit card again and had lost it all. I left the slot machines and
went to the roulette tables. My friends were nowhere to be seen. I
wandered around the huge gaming room and noticed a large posh open
restaurant. I scrutinised the patrons and saw my friends sitting at
one of the tables. I walked over to them. They were just finishing
their meal. I noticed a large green bottle of champagne on the
table and several empty glasses that had obviously contained Irish
coffee. I pointed at the bottle.

“
You guys
must have done well.” I said. “Is that why you’re
celebrating?”

“
Actually
we’ve lost all the money that we borrowed from you.” Ian said. “We
only had enough left to get a decent meal. We looked for you but
couldn’t find you.”

As I’d been
in the slot machine area the whole evening I knew that Ian was
lying. I shrugged my shoulders.

“
Well, I’m
going home.” I said. “There’s no point in staying here any
longer.”

“
Okay,
Garth.” Ian said. “I’ll pay you back on Monday. Just come to the
snooker saloon.”

I walked out of the casino. I
had lost ten thousand Rand and I knew that I would never get the
three thousand Rand back from Ian. What a fool I’d been.

As I
expected, when I went to the snooker saloon on the Monday to
collect the three thousand Rand that I
’d
lent Ian, he wasn’t there. Nor were Bruce and Vic. I waited there
for a few hours, whiling away the time playing pinball, but
eventually I left empty-handed. What also worried me was that my
guardian, Misses Phillips, would want to see my credit card bank
statement at the end of the month and when she saw that I’d spent
ten thousand Rand in one night gambling at the casino, I had no
doubt that she would have the daily limit drastically reduced or
even take away the card. I had to think of a way to change the
statements.

Changing the
monthly bank statements actually turned out to be quite easy. I
placed a blank sheet of white paper over the lower part of the
statement that contained all the transactions for that month and
copied the original in colour. This gave me a perfect statement
header. I then typed out all the transactions that had been on the
original statement except for the transactions at the casino,
changed the total balance, and printed them onto the blank bottom
half of my fake statement. The two statements were identical except
for the missing casino transactions on the fake statement. Unless
Misses Phillips actually asked the bank to send her copies of my
statements, she would be quite unaware of the true balance in my
account. It seemed very unlikely that she would do this. The
outstanding monthly balances were paid by an automatic debit
transfer from my aunt’s other investment account of mine and my
guardian never asked about it because she assumed that I never used
it myself, and as long as I was very careful about the continuity
of the credit card statements, I felt sure that I could keep up the
deception until I turned eighteen in August the following year and
no longer required a guardian.

I also kept the truth about by
visit to the casino from Cindy, telling her that I had only made a
small loss of thirty Rand.

“
That’s not
too bad.” she said. “I worry about you hanging out with Ian, Bruce
and Vic. I don’t trust them. Garth, please promise me that you
won’t lend them money. If you do, I’m sure that you’ll never see it
again.”

“Don’t worry.” I said. “I won’t
lend any of them a cent.”

The financial
loss that I
’d suffered at the casino
worried me greatly and I realised that my impulsiveness had to be
curbed. The ten thousand Rand that I’d lost was almost a sixth of
the money I’d inherited. I also needed to try to recover the money
that I’d lost but I doubted that I would achieve this at the casino
where I had absolutely no influence over the system. The odds were
stacked in the casino’s favour. That was why they were so
wealthy.

I had told
Cindy and Misses Phillips that I would like to start my own
business but nothing that I thought of seemed likely to make me
rich quickly. All the enterprises that I came up with would require
years to establish and bring in an income that would satisfy me. On
top of this, the effort, capital outlay and the risks involved
turned me off. Although I didn’t realise it at the time, the thing
that was really holding me back was my lack of self-confidence,
something that had grown within me as a result of my father’s
constant criticism of me and the disdain that he showed towards me.
Not once in all the time before he took his and my mother’s lives
did he ever praise anything that I did or encourage me to attempt
to achieve something. My mother had been much the same, perhaps
even worse, as she seldom said anything to me or defended me,
especially in my father’s presence. Then one day, I discovered what
I believed was an easy way to wealth.

South
Africans are very keen followers of horse racing and regular race
meetings are held all over the country. People flock to these
meetings and the results of the races are published in the
newspapers, television and the internet. One of the premier races
that is avidly followed is the annual “Durban July”, a race for
thoroughbred horses over a distance of 2200 metres and which is run
in the port city of Durban. The race is part of the meeting held on
the first Saturday of July and, as it was the middle of June, I
decided to place a bet.

I had never
before taken even the slightest interest in horse racing but I had
heard stories about the many punters who had made fortunes betting
on the horses. I decided to try my luck but when I looked at the
list of runners for that year
’s race I
didn’t have the faintest idea about which one was likely to win. I
decided to pick my horse by writing all their number on small
pieces of paper, fold them in half and place them in a large bowl.
I shuffled the bits of paper and, without looking into the bowl,
picked out one of them. The number on the scrap of paper when I
unfolded it was twelve, a horse named Hunting Tower. I looked up
the betting on the internet and saw that Hunting Tower was given a
twelve to one chance of winning. I decided to put a thousand Rand
on Hunting Tower.

I went to the local betting hall
and approached one of the book makers.

“
I want to
take a bet on the Durban July.” I told the man. “And the horse that
I want to back is number twelve Hunting Tower.”

“
Okay.” the
man said. “The odds on Hunting Tower at the moment are twelve to
one. How much do you want to bet?”

“
A thousand
Rand.” I replied.

The book maker raised his
eyebrows.

“
That’s a
sizable bet for a young man who’s obviously never taken a bet on
the horses before. Are you sure that you want to bet so
much?”

I nodded.

The man
picked up a betting book of yellow betting slips and wrote out the
ticket. He handed it to me.

“
This is your
betting ticket.” he explained. “You can see that I’ve written the
bet on it. The bet is one thousand to twelve thousand. That means
that if Hunting Tower wins you’ll win twelve thousand Rand and
you’ll get your initial stake back. Just bring the ticket to me if
the horse wins, I’ll authenticate it, and give you a bank
guaranteed cheque. Be careful not to lose the ticket. I can’t pay
you without the ticket. As a precaution, write your name and your
I.D. on the back. Then nobody else can cash it."

I handed the thousand Rand to
the man, thanked him, and left.

I
didn
’t give much thought to my Durban
July bet or hold out much hope that it would come off considering
the unscientific method that I’d used to select Hunting Tower.
Instead, I tried, with no success, to get Ian to pay me back the
three thousand Rand that I had lent him at the casino. His excuse
for not repaying the money was that the money that he was owed had
not been forthcoming and, until he finally received it, he couldn’t
pay me.

“
Besides,”
Ian said, “the money that you lent us was for the three of us, not
just me. As far as I’m concerned, I actually only owe you a
thousand Rand and Bruce and Vic owe you the rest.”

“
I gave the
money to you.” I said. “And you promised to pay me back. Don’t try
and get out of your obligations by involving Bruce and
Vic.”

I could see
that Ian was becoming angry but this didn’t scare me in the least.
I had come to realise that, although Ian was older than me and more
experienced, he wasn’t the tough guy that he tried to make out that
he was. I had no doubt that if it ever came to a fist-fight between
the two of us, I could easily beat him.

“
And what
will you do if I decide not to pay back your money?” Ian
asked.

I stepped closer to Ian so that
our faces were only a few inches apart. I stared straight into his
eyes.

“
Are you
saying that you’re not going to pay me?” I asked, my voice soft but
steady.

I saw fear
fill Ian’s eyes. He stepped back quickly.

“
No.” he
said. “I’m not saying that. It’s just that I don’t have the money
right now.”

“
Well, you’d
better get it soon.” I said quietly as I moved towards him. “And,
if you believe that Bruce and Vic should pay their share then you’d
better see that they do. I’m holding you responsible for seeing
that I get all the money that is owed to me. Do you
understand?”

“
Yes.” Ian
said, avoiding my stare.

Ian turned and walked away. I
was quite surprised at how easily I had been able to stand up to
him and I resolved then and there that I wouldn’t let anybody
intimidate me again. I knew that I was exceptionally strong
physically and wouldn’t get flustered or panic if I ever got into a
fist-fight. In fact, I relished the thought of getting into a
fight.

When Saturday
the seventh of July arrived I decided to watch the Durban July race
on television at home. I hadn
’t told
Cindy about my bet and wouldn’t say anything to her about it unless
Hunting Tower won. I invited her to watch the race with me. We met
at the local McDonald’s where we had breakfast and then wandered
around the Rosettenville business area looking at the merchandise
in the shop windows. For lunch we bought fish and chips and ate the
meal sitting on a bench watching the yachts on Wemmer Pan. Even
though it was mid-winter the day was sunny and warm. Then we walked
slowly through the crowded streets to my house. As the race was
only due to be run at about three-thirty in the afternoon we made
love and then showered together. We dressed and settled on the
couch in front of the television set in the lounge with a six-pack
of beer and a large bowl of roasted peanuts.

“
Why are you
suddenly so interested in horse racing?” Cindy asked.

“
it’s not
that I’m really interested in horse racing,” I said, “but the whole
country seems to be so excited about the Durban July and so I
thought I’d watch it to see why it’s so popular. But as far as I’m
concerned a horse race is just a horse race.”

I suspected
that Cindy didn’t quite believe me and I could see that she
suspected that there was some other reason, but she nodded and
snuggled up next to me.

Eventually
the race began and for the first half of the race I only heard
Hunting Tower mentioned once by the commentator. However, as the
second half progressed his name cropped up more and more until,
almost at the end, he was amongst the first three leading horses.
Then, to my astonishment, Hunting Tower surged forward to win by a
neck.

I sat next to Cindy and stared
at the television; stunned.

“
Wow!” Cindy
said. “That was exciting!”

Cindy turned and looked at
me.

“
What’s wrong
with you, Garth?” she asked. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost or
something. Didn’t you think the race was exciting?”

I blinked my eyes and tried to
think of what to say.

“
Wait here.”
I said as I stood up from the couch. “I’ve got something to show
you."

I saw the
puzzled expression on Cindy’s face as I walked out of the lounge. I
went to the bedroom and picked up my betting slip that lay on one
of the shelves in my wardrobe. I walked back to the lounge and sat
down on the couch.

“
Two weeks
ago I decided to take a bet on the Durban July.” I said. “”You’re
quite right when you say that I’ve never shown any interest in
horse racing but that was probably because I was still at school
and couldn’t afford to follow the sport. I didn’t have the faintest
idea about how to select a horse so I wrote their numbers on pieces
of paper, put them all into a bowl and guess what number I pulled
out?”

Cindy stared
at me, blinking her eyes as she tried to understand what I had just
asked her. She looked at the television set briefly and I saw her
face brighten as understanding of what I’d just told her came to
her. She turned and stared at me, her mouth open in
disbelief.

“
Number
twelve.” she said.