by Ian Todd
“Bit, it is.”
“Aye, Ah know that, bit whit kind ae love story?”
“Sex, drugs and rock and roll, that kind ae love story.”
“Is it?”
“Look, ye kin hiv a swatch ae it wance Ah’m finished.”
Silence.
“Bit, Ah’m in it?” she eventually asked.
“Ah knew ye wur gonnae ask me that,” he replied, laughing.
“Well, am Ah?” she squealed in frustration.
“Why the hell wid you be in it? Ah’ve telt ye before, it’s fiction, so it is.”
“Ah’m gonnae stab you in the eye wae that breadknife if ye don’t stoap annoying me, Johnboy Taylor. Answer the question.”
“Look, there’s a lot ae ideas kicking aboot in ma heid. Ah’m jist taking ma time. Ah’ve telt ye, Ah’ll let ye hiv a wee swatch ae whit Ah’ve come up wae nearer the time. Christ, Ah thought ye wid be happy that Ah’ve started the thing. Anyway, whit’s been happening wae you? Hiv ye finally managed tae meet that auld dragon wan that’s been keeping ye awake at night?”
“Which wan?” she replied, rolling her eyes, as they baith chuckled.
“Her that used tae dae the same job as you.”
“Auld Mrs MacKenzie? Ach, she’s no as bad as everywan’s painted her oot tae be. Ah met up wae her this efternoon. She’s a stubborn auld bird. Pretty good fur being ninety wan, mind ye. The poor soul his two septic thighs efter she kept using the same needle tae inject her insulin wae…and her a former nurse as well. Jist goes tae show ye.”
“Whit dis?”
“That it’s true whit they say…that the cobblers son’s ur always the worst shod. You and her hiv something in common as well, by the way.
“Aye?”
“She’s intae her Victor Hugo. She’s currently reading The Hunchback ae Notre Dame.”
“Brilliant film that…tae love another person is tae see the face ae God.”
“Eh?”
“It’s a quote fae Les Miserables, wan ae his other books. ‘Tae love another person is tae see the face ae God.’ Ah think there’s a copy ae it in wan ae the boxes we brought wae us. Tony wis intae him big style when we wur doon in Dumfries.”
“Tae love another person is tae see the face ae God,” she murmured. “If Ah’m honest, that’s probably how Ah saw you during that period.”
“Ach, ye’ll end up making me blush noo, so ye will,” he chided her, as they baith smiled.
“It’s true. Aw the lassies thought Ah wis aff ma heid, bit Ah knew differently…”
“Whit, that Ah hid the face ae God? Nae wonder they thought ye wur aff yer trolley, although the sentiments ae the words probably sum me....us…up.”
“So, whit dae ye reckon he wis oan aboot?”
“Whit he wis talking aboot wis the importance ae furgiveness, redemption and obviously love.”
“It makes ye wonder why somewan like Tony Gucci wid be intae that kind ae thing? Ah mean, let’s be honest. When Ah think aboot somewan like him, furgiveness, redemption and love, disnae exactly spring tae mind.”
“That’s because ye’ve never really known him. Ye think ye dae, bit ye don’t. A lot ae people thought they did and ended up getting caught oot, the stupid basturts.”
Silence.
“Aye, well, whit Ah dae know is that you wur never like him, Johnboy. Maybe like some ae the others, bit no him. He wis an original package that wan, the day he wis born. Ah still cannae fathom oot how somewan like Kim Sui didnae see through him fae the start, her being so sweet and intelligent as well.”
“Maybe ye’re jist no gieing her enough credit. He might’ve come across as a slippery fucker tae somewan like you, bit he wis always loyal tae the wans closest tae him.”
“Did he ever speak aboot his feelings…Ah mean, aboot Kim Sui?”
“Of course. Jist like me wae you.”
“Naw, seriously. Did he?”
“Look, Ah cannae remember…it’s no something we aw did, like run aboot expressing how we felt aboot people…apart fae the wans we wanted tae murder, that is,” he added, smiling.
“Aye, bit you never murdered anywan, Johnboy. That’s the difference,” Senga reminded him, looking him straight in the eye, searching fur a contradiction oan whit she’d jist come oot wae.
“Senga, why won’t ye get it intae yer heid that none ae The Mankys hiv ever murdered anywan. Mind you, oan a few occasions, it widnae hiv been fur the want ae trying,” he admitted, smiling.
“Ah heard a really weird story the day…aboot that crow…”
“Aw, no that again, Senga.”
“Fae auld Miss MacKenzie. Bloody freaked me oot, so she did. Ah wis aboot hivving kittens driving aboot in the dark aw oan ma lonesome, so Ah wis,” she admitted, involuntary shuddering, looking across at the windae.
“Look, furget the bloody crow. Yer tea’s ready. Wine?”
Chapter Twelve
Johnboy goat up aff the chair and nipped across tae the record player, turning the volume doon oan Bullfrog Blues and Rory Gallagher’s amazing slide guitar oan the 1972 ‘Live In Europe’ album. He stood and peered warily across at the living door, before him and Mr Hopkins baith heided fur the windae, as the loud thumping oan the ootside door started up again. He pulled the net curtain aside a few inches, the new wan that Senga hid put up efter the postie caught him warming the cheeks ae his bare arse in front ae the coal fire.
“Fuck,” he cursed, being confronted by the sight ae a polis car parked up, before a chequered hat wae a long face under it, appeared fae the right haun side ae the glass.
“Hello?” the bizzy shouted at him, as he let the curtain fall back intae place.
Silence.
He looked across at the door again. The thumping hid started up again.
“Whit dae ye think?” he asked the cat. “Will Ah answer it?”
He quickly looked aboot the room. It looked reasonably tidy, apart fae the table where the typewriter wis sitting. There wis wee scrunched up balls ae paper lying scattered roond aboot it. There wis nothing incriminating tae be seen. In fact, as far as he wis aware, other than up in the rafters across in the shed, there wisnae anything incriminating in the hoose. Why the fuck did he always get a sense that he’d done something wrang whenever there wis a bizzy within breathing space ae him, he cursed under his breath. Ever since he wis a snapper, that guilty feeling hid never left him.
“That’s because whenever ye’re awake, ye’re guilty ae something,” Senga wance quipped tae him, efter he’d mentioned his phobia tae her.
He looked at the living door again. The basturt wis persistent. Maybe it wis tae dae wae the toon? He widnae know if he didnae open the bloody door. Did he want tae know? That wis the dilemma. Whenever wan ae these basturts turned up at the door, they ended up never being away fae it. It wis the cat that swung it fur him. The stupid basturt wis clawing at the curtain tae hiv a wee gander at whit aw the commotion wis aboot ootside.
“See you,” he growled at the cat, as he heided fur the lobby, no wanting PC Shiny Buttons tae think he wis some sort ae curtain lifter.
“Hellooo?” a pair ae exposed lips sang through the letter box, as he yanked the door open.
“Aye?”
“Oh er,” Jimmy Hill, the fitba pundit’s wee brother mumbled, staunin up. “Are, er, you Mr…er,”
“Kin Ah help ye?” Johnboy asked him, looking beyond the tin badges oan the shoulder pips tae see if there wis any mair ae them oan the go.
“Oh, right, well. I was wondering if I can have a word, Mr?”
“Aboot whit?”
“Oh, er, perhaps if I can come in…chust for a minute? Er, it shouldn’t take a moment, sir.”
Johnboy looked at him. He wis dying tae tell him tae go and fuck himsel, bit his curiosity hid been piqued.
“Through tae yer right,” he finally agreed, staunin aside.
“Oh, I’ve got a pussy as well,” PC Fluster turned and declared, smiling. “Here, Kitty, Kitty,” the stupid bastur
t cooed, as Mr Hopkins stayed anchored oan the windae ledge, slinging the intruder daggers.
“Aye, well, Ah widnae go near him. He’s goat a thing aboot uniforms,” Johnboy warned him. “So?”
“Oh, would you mind turning the music down?”
“Why? It’s Rory Gallagher.”
“Oh, it’s interfering with my hearing aid,” The Bizzy apologised, taking aff his hat and showing him his lug.
“Grab yersel a pew,” Johnboy agreed, shrugging, as he went across and lifted the stylus aff the album, gieing the cat a wee wink while his back wis turned fae the uniform.
“So?”
“You’re an author…I heard that,” PC Long Face admitted, nodding at the typewriter.
“Aye. Ah wis in the middle ae an important chapter, so if ye don’t mind,” Johnboy encouraged him, trying tae sound pleasant enough without PC Plod gaun in the huff.
“Oh, right, yes. I believe you had a run-in recently with Flintlock McBean?”
“Eh?”
“The owner of Happy Horizon Caravan Park down on Achmelvich Beach.”
“Me?”
“Apparently Mr McBean threatened you with a loaded shotgun…a few weeks ago?”
“Ah’m sorry, bit Ah think somebody’s hivving ye oan. Whit did ye say his name wis again?”
“Flintlock McBean, the caravan site owner across the hill on Achmelvich Beach,” he replied, pointing towards the living room door.
“Never heard ae him. Apart fae Davey The Post, you’re the only person Ah’ve spoken tae since we moved in here back at the end ae March.”
“Oh, but…”
“Who telt ye this?”
“Oh, I believe it came from your wife…er, girlfriend,” The Bizzy gulped, looking a bit confused.
“Whit, Senga telt ye?”
“Oh, er, not quite. I believe she mentioned it to a work colleague…a Mrs MacKenzie, er, Ishbel MacKenzie, my aunt. She’s the receptionist at the doctor’s surgery,” he stuttered, taking oot his wee pocket notebook and opening it. “She claimed that Mrs…er, Miss Jackson, the new district nurse, told her that you and McBean had an altercation…across at the caravan site, after he apparently caught you trespassing.”
“Hiv ye spoken tae Senga yersel?”
“Er, no. She was out on her rounds when I called in by.”
“Well, Ah suggest ye hiv a word wae her. Ah’m always looking fur plots fur ma book. We discuss it aw the time. Maybe this …”
“Mrs MacKenzie, er, Ishbel…”
“Picked her up wrang? Ah cannae remember discussing a character wae a pirate sounding name toting a shotgun. Ah wid’ve remembered that,” he assured him. “Interestingly, that novel ae mine’s aboot pirates, by the way.”
“So, you’re saying it never happened?”
“That’s exactly whit Ah’m saying. Noo then, unless there’s anything else, Ah’d like tae get back tae finishing aff ma chapter.”
Him and the cat stood at the windae watching the polis car through the net curtain attempt a six-point turn, before it heided aff doon the track.
“Fur fuck’s sake, Senga!” he cursed, drapping the stylus back oan tae the album, as the room filled wae the rocking sounds ae a slide guitar and the roar ae the crowd in the background.
Chapter Thirteen
“There ye go, whit did Ah tell her, eh?” Johnboy asked Mr Hopkins who clearly wisnae listening, his attention focused oan stalking a couple ae wee fluttering drunken moths, no sure whit wan tae go fur first. “Mair happy customers passing through.”
He continued watching whit wis gaun oan across oan the other side ae the beach through the auld pair ae binoculars that he’d come across in a cupboard in the crofthoose no long efter moving in. He obviously couldnae hear whit wis being said fae where he wis lying, bit the waving aboot ae the erms fae the over-excited guy, whose tearful wife and two glum weans wur sitting in the car spectating, didnae look as if bon-voyage or au-revoir wis in there anywhere. He’d noticed them arriving the night before when him, Senga and the cat wur oot fur the last stroll ae the night, efter she’d started talking tae him again, following him accusing her ae gossiping tae the receptionist at her work aboot the mad basturt across the other side ae the beach pulling a shotgun oot oan him.
“They’re in fur a nasty shock, so they ur,” he’d sarcastically sniggered.
“Who?”
“The happy family, jist arriving tae start their well-earned holiday. Look,” he replied, pointing. “That grizzly auld basturt’s jist haunded o’er the key tae the caravan wae the gaping hole in the flair. Ah’ll gie them until the morning before they piss aff, efter demanding their money back, so Ah will.”
“How dae ye know he hisnae fixed it…the flair, Ah mean?”
“Senga, whit ur you like? Take a look at the state ae the site,” he’d scoffed, turning tae look at her.
“Whit?”
“It looks exactly whit it is. A decrepit dump, fur sorry-looking caravans, so it dis.”
“So?”
“So, believe you me. They’re in fur a nice wee surprise when wan ae they weans disappear doon through the hole in the flair,” he’d replied laughing. “That grumpy auld basturt across there is the holiday site owner equivalent ae Rachman, so he is.”
“Rachman?”
“Peter Rachman. The biggest slum landlord in London back in the early 60s.”
“Why dae ye actually find this kind ae stuff funny? Ah think it’s a shame, so it is,” Senga hid chastised him, watching the wee excited weans racing aheid ae their parents tae be first at the caravan door.
“That grumpy auld grizzly basturt disnae gie a shit aboot his customers or he wid’ve done something aboot sprucing the place up long before noo. Ah’m laughing at that brass neck ae his. Christ, it’s nearly the end ae June. The summer’s aboot o’er wae, so it is. Ah’ve yet tae see anywan staying across there fur mair than a night since the site opened up at the beginning ae April,” he’d replied.
“Ah feel sorry fur him. The poor bugger’s probably no fit tae dae anything.”
“Senga, that auld buzzard’s furever hauling that boat ae his in and oot ae the water withoot any help fae anywan. He knows full well whit he’s daeing, believe you me.”
“And whit’s that then?”
“Ach, don’t start, Mrs Senga Fur The Defence,” he sneered, steering her away in the direction ae Vestey’s Bay.
Johnboy allowed his mind tae drift back tae the day when him and auld Grizzly Chops hid their first introduction. He could remember feeling uneasy, wondering if he’d been a bit too hasty in coming doon fae his perch up oan the hill opposite the caravans, tae welcome Grizzly Adams. At the time, him and Senga hid only been living in the Crofthoose jist o’er a month or so, so the hoose wis still in a wee bit ae a kafuffle wae boxes lying strewn aw o’er the place. He’d decided tae go fur a real wander. It hid also been the first day that there hidnae been a gale force wind oan the go since they’d moved in. Him and Mr Hopkins hid set aff a few minutes efter Senga hid disappeared doon the track tae her work. It hid been the first real exploring that him and the cat hid done ae the area efter Senga hid insisted they keep the cat in fur a few weeks, so he’d get used tae his new surroundings. It hid been obvious fae the start that the cat loved the new place, while he’d spent hauf the time wondering how she’d managed tae con him tae go and live oan an uninhabited planet. Talk aboot Desolation Row? His last dream ae meeting up wae Skull hid kept him in check though. Fae the crofthoose, aw ye could see in any direction wis grey spartan rock formations, big and wee, rising up oot ae the ground, covered in moss. Him and the cat hid initially stumbled across Vestey’s Bay, before following the tap ae the craggy ootline ae the rocks that suddenly, withoot warning, opened up a scene that could’ve come straight oot ae a Bounty chocolate coconut bar advert, minus the palm trees. Confronting them hid been a startlingly white sandy beach wae blue aquamarine waters and wee snow-white waves, lapping the shoreline. Doon tae their left, thanks tae Senga, o
an whit he now knew the locals called the machair, which wis basically grazing land, a dozen or so black-faced sheep hid been lazily munching the grass, only looking up when they wur disturbed by a swooping, shrieking pair ae oystercatchers, oan route tae the water’s edge. Him and the cat hid sat and watched them scurry aboot in the wet sand like maniacs, in aw directions, in the hope ae catching their breakfast aff guard. Being near the beach wis the only time they came across birds. Up until that point, they’d yet tae see birds anywhere near the croft, apart fae the wance, when he’d intervened when Mr Hopkins hid goat intae a fight wae an eagle. Directly across fae where him and the cat hid been sitting, a deserted caravan site stood, enticing him tae come across fur a closer look. It sat between two massive clumps ae rock, wae the sea visible jist beyond where the vans wur nestling. At the time, he’d stupidly ignored Mr Hopkins’ wariness and set aff tae hiv a quick wee donder aboot the place close-up. Of course, he’d spotted the speck oan the horizon, a wee boat, heidin towards the beach that he’d been walking across as he set aff, bit hidnae made the connection between it and his destination, until it hid been too late. There hid been nine caravans sitting squatting at various angles fae each other, while another wan at the far end ae them sat desolate, hivving obviously collapsed in oan itsel. Fae a distance, especially in the sunlight, they actually looked quite inviting. Oan closer inspection, they appeared as faded and ramshackle as the grumpy auld owner himsel. Efter checking oot the sea and the horizon across tae the west beyond them, spending a few minutes staunin watching the gulls hivving square goes wae each other, he’d started peering in tae a few ae the vans that hid the curtains sitting slightly ajar. In wan ae them, the light fae the gaping hole in the flair, jist in fae the door, between the sink and whit looked like a cubicle toilet, lit up the dank, dark interior. Efter daeing the roonds, hivving a wee sniff aboot, he’d sauntered back across the sheep shit covered grass and knocked loudly oan the paint flaked door ae the cottage. It wis while he wis staunin nervously waiting fur the door tae be answered, that he’d heard the dug barking. His apprehension hidnae subsided either, efter the beast hid clocked him fae doon at the water’s edge and started running towards him, picking up speed as it went, hauf yelping and growling wae excitement.
