AGAINST THE ODDS:Angie's bridge party threatens to unravel when a proper dummy is introduced, writes Roddy L'Estrange

WHEN THE bell rang at Mount Prospect Avenue on Monday night, Vinny Fitzpatrick stole a glance at the hall mirror, fiddled with his tie, batted down a couple of loose strands of hair and made purposefully for the door.

It was one of Angie’s bridge party nights and he would be wearing several hats: concierge, porter, barman and chief bottle-washer.

Angie had warned him to be on his best behaviour: to look smart, smile and only to engage in conversation if he felt sure he wouldn’t offend anyone.

He was under strict instructions to stay off the jar until everyone was seated and the first hands had been dealt. Even then, Angie had restricted him to a carafe of white wine and a six-pack of stout.

Angie had washed and ironed Vinny’s only white shirt, polished his brogues and insisted he wear a blue silk tie, which belonged to her ex-husband, Big Fat Ron.

There were seven guests, two from the Scrabble Club, Audrey and Ava; a husband and wife from the tennis club, Bill and Betty; old school pals Francesca and Ronnie, short for Veronica, and Dave “Doc” Dalton, the local medic and frequent visitor to Boru Betting.

Two tables had been set up, one in the front room and one in the drawing room, where drinks and canapés were served before play.

As Angie flitted about the guests like a firefly, Vinny shuffled to and from the kitchen, taking care not to barge into anyone, or spill any drink. On one of his return journeys, he had just shoved a fistful of black olives into his mouth, when he heard a clink of glass and Angie’s voice: “Could I have your attention for a minute folks.”

Vinny knew what was coming and smiled as he reached for the magnum of champagne placed in the fridge earlier. Angie was about to announce the new date for their registry office wedding – Friday, April 24th – four months after the original gig had been cancelled when Vinny took a turn and ended up in hospital.

Soon, there were cheers of joy from inside, and when Vinny reappeared, complete with champagne flutes, he was given a hearty pat on the back from Bill and The Doc, while the girls, except Ronnie, all gave him a peck on the cheek and a hug.

He grinned sheepishly, muttered his thanks and joined in the toast.

Then it was time for cards. The group drew partners. Angie was playing with Bill against Ronnie and The Doc in the front room, with the other four in the back.

As Bill began to deal, Angie reminded Vinny to keep the glasses topped up, ensure there were nibbles aplenty and to put the water on for the rice after an hour. “That shouldn’t be beyond you, should it love?” she said with a gleam in her eye.

The hour passed all too quickly for Vinny, who finished his wine in a jiffy and was halfway through his six-pack in between visits to the tables where play, he noted, was conducted in a silence which would have become Trappist monks. But during the break for supper, a fine Indian chicken tandoori dish complete with nan bread, The Doc’s bleeper went off.

“Go to go,” he said. “I’m on stand-by tonight. So sorry, Ange.”

“Well, that’s torn it,” muttered Ronnie, who was dressed too much like a man for Vinny’s liking, jeans and ill-fitting jumper, no make-up, and short, spiky hair.

Angie was distraught and her lower lip was starting to tremble when Vinny blurted out. “I’ll make up the numbers. Sure, I’m an old hand at this bridge lark,” he said.

Soon, Vinny was sitting opposite a glaring Ronnie as the cards were dealt. He wracked his brain trying to remember what he knew about bridge and what he had observed that night.

In his youth, he had played whist with his old man, Finbarr, and was familiar with the business of tricks, what trumps were and how you could ruff if you didn’t have a suit that was led.

He gathered in his hand, scanning eagerly for court cards, aces, kings, queens and jacks. He knew their point value and that 10 points was a fair hand; he also knew that a long suit could be useful, if not sure why.

His first hand had two jacks and the suits were split evenly, three spades to the jack, three hearts, three diamonds and four clubs to the jack. Even Vinny knew he had been dealt a pup.

Ronnie had dealt and without hesitation barked out: “Four spades.” Angie said “pass”, while Vinny coughed and said nothing.

“What’s your bid love?” said Angie.

“Er, I’ve nothing to say,” replied Vinny.

“Then pass,” said Angie, which he did, as did Bill.

Angie led a heart and Vinny was wondering what to do when Ronnie snapped: “You’re the dummy, put your cards face down on the table.”

Vinny did as he was told, at which Ronnie groaned. “Thanks a lot partner,” she sighed sarcastically, before proceeding to play at the speed of knots, making 10 tricks on the button.

“Four spades, I think,” she said triumphantly – Vinny took an ounce of pleasure in noting his jack of clubs won the final trick.

As play continued, Vinny fell foul of Ronnie’s wrath, mostly at the bidding, where he was weak. Once he passed her opening bid of one club because he only held a king, only to realise that the five clubs he had demanded a response.

For the final deal, Ronnie informed Vinny they were vulnerable – “Sure, I know that already,” he said to himself – and they needed a game score to win. “That’s 10 tricks in spades or hearts, 11 in clubs or diamonds,” she barked.

Vinny was praying he was dealt a poor hand; that way Ronnie couldn’t bully him any more. Instead, a blaze of colour greeted him. He had 18 points and six diamonds, including the ace, king and queen. Bill dealt and passed, and then Vinny did a double take – not a take-out, which he had heard of that night but didn’t understand what it was – when Ronnie opened two hearts.

When Angie passed, Vinny, who only had one heart, took the plunge: “Er, five diamonds.”

The icy stare he received from across the table was followed by a sigh. Bill led a low spade and Ronnie slapped her cards down before storming off. Vinny looked at his hand and what was on the table. By his reckoning he had six diamond tricks and three hearts. He needed two more.

Ronnie’s ace and queen of spades were on the table and Vinny’s instinct was to play the ace, but something told him to chance the queen.

If Angie didn’t have the king, the queen would win. He could then draw trumps, cash his hearts and return to the ace of spades. He played the queen, feeling his heart thump noisily as he did.

Angie played the five of spades, leaned over and squeezed Vinny’s arm. “Well played partner, and I mean partner,” she said.

Vinny puffed his cheeks, blew hard, and smiled.

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