‘14’ the croupier said dryly. Harvey looked down at the cards in front of him, then at the stack of chips he’d committed. All of his chips to be exact. All on a pair of sevens. He glanced nervously to the player to his right. The stupid cunt had played on a 17 and pulled a 4. ‘Fucking tourist’ Harvey thought to himself. She’s here on holiday, fancied a thrill and the lucky fuck has pulled his 4 card at the worst possible time. Possibly his last hand! He looked at the dealers cards. A nine of diamonds.

Things had started off well. He’d been almost a grand up. He’d almost allowed himself to imagine her coming back to him. He’d pictured winning enough to replenish the savings he’d emptied, pictured buying back those earrings she’d had to sell, pictured paying off the house instead of remortgaging it. The look on her face as he walked through the door triumphant! He could see it all so clearly until a pair of fucking sevens hit the table. He drained the rest of his whiskey and puffed out his cheeks, checking once more the cards of the lady to his right in disbelief. ‘Who hits on 17?’ Harvey fumed to himself.

If she knew he was anywhere near a casino, let alone several thousand down, that would have been it. Even if he turned up at her door with the answer to all their money troubles she’d slam that same door in his face if she found out he’d won it at the tables.

‘Sir?’ The croupier mused, tapping the green felt just above Harvey’s cards. He lifted his glass once more, forgetting he’d just finished the last of his whiskey and ended up chewing on an ice cube that had slid to the back of his throat. ‘Hit me’ Harvey heard himself say before he was even aware of the words coming out of his mouth. The croupier peeled the next card from the deck and pulled it onto centre stage before revealing it to the table.....