House
The Friday final table, hand by hand
Twenty players started at eight and six reached the final under the big lamp. Here's how the night went, from the draw to the cheer.
The list had filled by lunchtime. Vanessa phoned the last two names through from the waiting list at four, and by half past seven every chair in the tournament room had a player in it. Owen Byrne drew the seats from a hat, the brass bell rang once, and the first round began with the kind of hush you only get when twenty people are pretending not to be nervous.
The early rounds
Twenty-five minutes a round, a bell between each. The first hour belonged to a retired stock agent who played every hand with the patience of a man waiting for a sale. He was out before the break, then sat at the rail with a pot of tea and a running commentary that was mostly kind.
The break
Twenty minutes, with scones, jam and cream in the front hall. Megan cleaned the felt while the players stretched, and Heather sent out a second tray when the first vanished. Most of the talk was about a single hand at the second table, which three people remembered three different ways.
The final
Six players moved under the big lamp. A young vet who'd never played before found herself head to head with a dairy farmer, and both stayed calm to the end. She won on the last card with a pair of eights and said she hadn't expected to survive the first round.
The board
Her name went up in chalk by the front door, with the words Champion of the night. No prize, no cup, no certificate, and everybody in the room clapped anyway. She thanked the dealers, the kitchen and her dad, who taught her the hands on the back of a feed bag.
After the cheer
The room emptied slowly. Players who'd gone out hours earlier stayed to watch the finish, and the champion was surrounded by people asking to see the hand she'd won with. She showed them, laughed and put the cards back in the tray, where they belong. Megan counted the chips in the quiet that followed.