The bell rang. Geoff’s heart was beating dangerously. He could feel his face redden. His hands were shaking. Bits of paper were strewn all around him. He had counted forty three television screens earlier but he was only interested in one now. A curly haired giant suddenly stood, blocking his view. He shifted his head to the right almost head butting the punter stood beside him. The giant moved away. The make shift hare sped along the track, edging closer to the traps. Three meters, two meters, one and they were open. The greyhounds jumped out. “Go on you little fucker” he roared desperately in his mind. His grasp on the folded newspaper tightened in his right hand. A single bead of sweat rolled from his forehead into his left eye. He wiped it away.
“Trap three has made a good start followed by two and four. Five is trailing them with one just behind. Six brings up the rear. Three has taken the first bend…” announced the commentator over the shop speakers.
The Gambler (Extract)
