Ledmore Junction

by Ian Todd

  “Shit!” he remembered cursing tae himsel, quickly looking aboot fur a weapon.

  He’d spotted a moss covered, five fit length ae four by four semi-submerged in the ground o’er tae his left. It looked tae hiv been there a while. His brain hid quickly telt him that the collie wid be oan tae him before he’d manage tae prise it up fae where it wis lying, so he’d turned slightly tae his right, tae face the charge heid oan. His heart hid started beating faster. He’d dealt wae aggressive dugs in the past, the polis variety, that wis. Furget aw that shite aboot them being able tae sniff ye oot. If ye wanted tae fool a polis dug, then ye hid tae find a place tae hide and settle doon quickly and quietly, preparing yersel tae be patient. Christ, he’d lost coont ae the times o’er the years that he’d sat eyeballing them, as the hairy buggers hid sniffed aboot a few feet fae him, in the backs ae the black soot-stained tenements ae the Toonheid, as a wee manky-arsed toe-rag. It wis the dafties who let their bottle get the better ae them and tried tae make a mad dash fur it, that ended up wae the arse ae their awready patched-up troosers, being torn tae shreds. He remembered as a ten-year-auld, him and the rest ae The Mankys hid skipped intae The Grafton oan Parly Road tae watch some cowboy film. He couldnae remember the name ae it noo, bit in it, a bunch ae redskins hid rolled aboot in the shite, tae make sure they couldnae be tracked doon by their scent by the Indian cavalry trackers and their dugs. Efter the film, they’d aw sat up oan the dyke above the midgie bins behind The Big Man’s pub, The McAslin Bar, talking aboot it.

  “There’s nae way ye’d catch me rolling aboot in shite so’s no tae get caught by wan ae they slobbering, hairy basturts,” Skull hid declared, lifting his cheeks up aff the wall and demonstrating a fine piccolo, seventh cavalry bugler rendition wae that smelly, pipsqueak sounding arse ae his.

  “Don’t you worry, Skull, The Apaches only did that if they’d hid a bath in the past three months. Other than attracting aw these fucking bluebottles, you’d be safe enough,” Joe hid quipped, swishing away the bluebottles taking a break fae the hauf-demolished midden below them, as everywan laughed.

  It wis whit Senga hid said efter she’d started her new job that hid made him wary.

  “Watch oot fur the collie dugs up here. They look friendly enough oan sight, bit they don’t take any prisoners, if the amount ae people Ah’ve patched up the past few days his goat anything tae go by.”

  He remembered wondering if he’d been experiencing wan ae they ‘yer life flashing before ye’ moments, as he’d stood waiting, feeling apprehensive aboot whit wis gonnae happen next. The collie hid looked pretty desperate tae get tae him, its white, slobbering, bared teeth oan show, as its red tongue flapped aboot fae between them. He’d braced himsel fur the attack by clenching his fists and getting his right fit ready tae boot the hairy basturt in the chops as soon as it came within range. Twenty feet…fifteen…ten…five…nothing. It hid suddenly stoapped deid in its tracks, looking behind itsel tae see where its master wis.

  “H…hello, boy,” he’d stuttered nervously, in welcome, his voice quivering, as it continued tae snarl away, circling, hauf in a crouch, keeping its eyes oan him, as Grizzly Adams’s heid suddenly disappeared as he approached the tap ae the machair’s incline. “Hello, boy,” he’d repeated, taking a step forward, as the dug backed aff a bit, its snarling increasing, before the bearded wallah appeared oan the scene.

  “You! What are ye wanting…who are ye?” The Grizz snarled in tune wae his collie, no gieing him time tae answer, as he continued marching straight past him intae the hovel that masqueraded as a hoose.

  “Er…” he’d replied, as the dug held his ground, still baring its teeth, blocking his exit towards the wee path he’d jist come up ten minutes earlier.

  It wis the familiar sound ae a double-barrelled shotgun being snapped and cocked fae within the darkness ae the doorway, that hid nearly made him shite they breeks ae his.

  “I asked you a question, laddie!” The Grizz hid snarled menacingly again, his features hauf hidden by the darkened interior, the blue black metallic double barrels ae the shotgun protruding oot ae the semi-darkness, glinting in the light like something oot ae a scene fae Pat Garret and Billy The Kid.

  Fucking hell, Johnboy’s brain hid screamed, as he fought hard no tae aboot turn and fuck aff back the way he’d come, dug or no dug. Whit the hell hid he goat himsel intae, he’d wondered, that life ae his definitely passing in front ae him in full Technicolor noo. How the hell wis he supposed tae explain being shot tae Senga, efter whit she’d warned him back in February, when they’d first come up tae view the crofthoose?

  “Oh, and another thing, Johnboy, the people up here ur nice, so they ur,” she’d hit him wae.

  “And whit’s that supposed tae mean?”

  “It means that they’re probably no used tae being aroond somewan like you. It means ye’ve goat tae behave yersel.”

  “How the hell am Ah gonnae get masel intae trouble when we’re in the middle ae Planet Nowhere?”

  “Ah’m sure you’ll find a way…people like you and yer pals always dae.”

  “Er, Ah…Ah wis wondering if there wis any work oan the go…aboot here, like,” he’d said tae Wild Bill Hickok, trying no tae gulp, as he waved his haun and a nod ae his chin, towards the decrepit caravans o’er tae their right.

  “Work?” The Grizz hid coughed at him, still sounding pissed-aff, setting the dug back oan tae high volume growling mode.

  “Er, aye…work.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “Labouring…maybe a wee bit ae painting and decorating or…”

  “I’ll give ye five seconds to get your arse off my land, laddie, before I pepper it full of buckshot.”

  “Bit…”

  “One…two…three…”

  He’d jist managed tae glance back before disappearing doon the wee incline oan tae the sand. The hair oan the back ae his neck hid still been staunin oan end, competing wae that nauseating feeling racking his stomach, expecting the shotgun blast tae land between they shoulder blades ae his at any second. Efter the run-in, everything roond aboot him hid appeared so surreal. Also, during his sojourn that day, a couple ae families hid arrived oan the beach and hid been sitting sheltered oan the curve ae the natural sandy shelf, obviously formed efter the tide continued wae its reclamation ae the dry, pasture grass ae the machair beyond it. He could remember the square patches ae tartan blankets spread oot underneath the adults alangside flasks and sandwiches waiting tae be drank and eaten. Some ae the weans and a few dugs hid been doon at the water’s edge splashing aboot, while a couple ae their brothers and sisters wur happily making sandcastles. He remembered taking a deep breath before glancing back efter he felt he’d put a good bit ae distance between him and the madman. Grizzly Adams hid still been staunin there, shotgun up oan his shoulder, pointed towards him. If the families oan the beach hid known whit hid been gaun oan, they’d never acknowledged it. Maybe they wur used tae the auld angry basturt? The collie hid followed him as far as the edge ae the stooped incline and hid sat oan the ridge, watching him make his way across the beach. By the time he’d reached the other side, the dug hid still been perched there, watching him. Grizzly Adams hid been nowhere tae be seen.

  “Auld crabbit basturt!” he’d turned and hollered, before clambering o’er the jagged rocks tae reach the tap ae the grassy slope where Mr Hopkins hid been impatiently walking roond in circles, his tail swishing, meowing disapprovingly in protest at being left behind.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Two coming through, Miss Bitchwater,” the screw shouted through tae the wing’s senior officer, unlocking the barred gate and nodding tae the two female inmates, who wur staunin there, each clutching a pillow case wae aw their possessions in it. “Well, get a move oan then. Ah hivnae goat aw day, ye know.”

  “Follow me,” Miss Bitchwater, newly transferred oot tae Corton Vale Wummin’s Prison fae Gateside, grunted.

  “Whit wan’s the sergeant?” a female con, who wis staunin
there, her chin resting oan her two hauns that wur clutching the tap ae the handle ae her flair polishing brick, asked The Bitch, as everywan called her.

  “Never you mind that, Henderson. Ah want tae see the reflection ae that beautiful face ae mine in that linoleum by the time Ah come oot ae the guvnor’s office,” she snarled, as the two inmates quickened their step tae catch up wae that man’s stride ae hers.

  “Enter!” Maggie Tin Knickers shouted, as the SO swung open the cell door that hid been converted intae an office in Robert Bruce Wing.

  “The two new arrivals, ma’am,” The Bitch announced deferentially tae the snake wae the fake shoulder pads sitting behind the desk. “Right, then, staun wae yer toes touching the yellow line and gie yer name, number and sentence tae the guvnor. C’mone noo, the guvnor disnae hiv aw day!”

  “Er, Munro, ma’am. Five years.”

  “Number?”

  “Er, four one seven six, ma’am.”

  “Burke…Ah…Ah think ma number’s four…two seven six. Ah’ve been sentenced tae…tae seven years fur something Ah never done,” Sally Burke, ex-polis sergeant in wan ae the toon’s two murder squads replied, barely haudin it thegither.

  “Ma’am!” The Bitch reminded her.

  “Ma’am,” the prisoner mumbled, starting tae weep, her shoulders convulsing uncontrollably.

  “Ach, pull yersel thegither, Burke,” The Bitch spat at her distastefully. “Ye shouldnae hiv committed the crime if ye wurnae prepared tae dae the time.”

  “Now then, ladies, welcome to HMP Cornton Vale. Whether one, or the two of you committed a crime or not, is irrelevant. The both of you are here now and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Unlike some public institutions on the outside, this establishment operates to a strict code of conduct,” The Guvnor lectured, no being able tae contain hersel, by hivving a dig at the two disgraced ex-poliswummin. “In here, it’s my way or the highway…and by that, I mean, if any of the two of you step out of line, my staff will be down on you both like a ton of bricks. You’ll be woken up at six am and the lights will go out at nine pm on the dot. Work in the net-making workshops or laundry is a privilege, not a right. That also applies to recreation in the evenings between seven and eight forty-five pm. Failure to comply with an instruction from a member of my staff, no matter how irrelevant you may think it is, will be dealt with ruthlessly and efficiently. You will be allowed to write one letter to a named and approved person once a week and receive a visit by two approved people, usually family members, once a month. Again, this is a privilege and not a right. There’s a rulebook available in your cells, courtesy of the prison’s visiting committee. As well as having the responsibility of looking after it, I suggest you both read it very carefully. Any questions?”

  “Bit Ah’m innocent…Ah shouldnae be here,” the ex-sergeant wailed, looking fae The Guvnor tae the SO and back tae The Guvnor again.

  “Whit hiv Ah telt ye, Burke? Pull yersel thegither and stoap aw this nonsense! The guvnor here isnae interested whether ye’re innocent or no. Everywan in here is guilty until proved otherwise.”

  “Have any of you got anything to say, that you haven’t already said?” The Guvnor asked them, bit looking across the desk at the ex-sergeant, daring her tae say something. “No? Good. That’s the way I like it.”

  “Right, aboot turn. The Guvnor here’s busy,” The Bitch commanded, marching across and wrenching the door ae the converted cell open fur them, as the two inmates turned tae make their way oot tae pick up their pillowcases, that they’d been telt tae lay oan the flair before they went in.

  “Oh, by the way, Munro,” Maggie Tin Knickers said, as ex-polis superintendent Murdina Munro turned back roond tae face her. “Superintendent Daddy Jackson was a good friend of mine. A kind and considerate family man, despite what his accusers and those determined to bring him down claimed. His wrongful arrest and conviction won’t be allowed to stand. I understand his excellent legal team have already submitted leave to appeal the outrageous, politically motivated claims levelled against him and the other dedicated police officers. Even if the trumped-up charges are upheld, he and the others will be paroled at the earliest opportunity. You, on the other hand, have no friends in high places. You were thrown to the wolves and let down by the very people who promised to protect you. Now you know how that young female police officer must have felt. That’s what happens when people choose the wrong side and betray their own. For you, you are here for the duration of your sentence. Parole will not be an option…I’ll see to that. That will be all.”

  “Right then, ye heard whit the nice guvnor said. Any messing aboot in here, and the pair ae youse ur fur the chop,” The Bitch wis jist reminding them, as she lead the pair ae them alang the wing tae the two rows aw cells at the far end, when Big Angie Henderson, the wan who’d asked which wan wis the sergeant earlier, stepped oot ae wan ae the cells wae a chanty pot full ae stale pish and hurled the contents o’er Sally Burke, covering Murdina Munro while she wis at it.

  Murdina lifted her erm up and sniffed the wet patch ae her striped shirt, before screwing her face up. She fought hard no tae boak, as she fumbled wae the buttons ae the wringing wet garment, before allowing it tae slide aff her shoulders doon on tae the flair at her feet. She unbuttoned the side ae her grey standard issue skirt and stepped oot ae it. She stepped back and looked at the soggy bundle at her feet. She couldnae control the shivering seizure that wracked her body fae her ankles aw the way up tae her neck. She looked aboot the cell. Despite the jail only hivving been open fur a couple ae years, the ghosts ae previous prisoners hid left their mark oan the walls in the form ae wee squiggled signatures, dried snot and pleas tae God tae save them fae the hellhole that they’d found themsels in. She stepped o’er the bundle in a befuddled daze, and walked across tae the highly polished roond metal plate that served as a mirror, imbedded in the wall above the desk that wis bolted tae the flair. Her shock, terror and bewilderment wis compounded by the haggard looking face and deid eyes that stared back at her. Her wance carefully coiffured jet-black, bobbed hair, hid been taken prisoner by the grey streaks spreading oot fae the roots oan the crown ae her heid. The transformation hid seemed tae accelerate, the closer she’d come tae the date ae her trial at Glesga High Court, efter being kept in solitary confinement in the wummin’s block ae Gateside Wummin’s Prison. During her trial in the South Court, she hidnae recognised the person that her senior colleagues hid spoken aboot when they’d stepped intae the dock and sworn tae tell the truth and nothing bit the truth, so help them God. Of course, she’d known fine well that it hid been her that they wur referring tae, when they’d spoken aboot Cleopatra, the she-devil who’d turned up in the dead ae night and broken aw the rules in search ae glory and promotion, at the expense ae others, and ae wan poor soul in particular, the young WPC fae Possil, Colette James, who’d escaped fae a mental asylum before jumping tae her death aff the Kingston Bridge, in front ae the nation’s hungry press. She also hidnae recognised the person that Lord Campbell ae Claremyle hid branded the worse femme fatal tae hiv ever donned the respected uniform ae Glesga’s finest in the second city ae the empire, accusing her ae setting back wummin’s emancipation within the force fur years, if no decades. While her public humiliation hid continued unabated fae the dock and the front pages ae the newspapers o’er the five days ae her trial, the pitiful voice ae Collette James hid never been far away, cynically hijacked by the very people who’d allowed her pain and suffering tae continue unabated o’er the years, since she’d joined Glesga polis as a happy go-lucky, enthusiastic young poliswummin, back in June 1973. Her worst moment though, hid been the day that her brief, Silas Abraham, hid informed her that due tae the announcement ae The Royal Commission on polis corruption in the city, nowan fae the Scottish Home and Health Department at The Scottish Office wis willing tae be called up as witnesses in her defence. That hid broken her…that’s when she’d finally realised that she’d been stuffed and betrayed…flung tae the wolves. Aw they years ae e
xemplary service and fur whit? She turned and looked aboot, bit there wis nae towel. She wondered if they’d come and allow her tae go back tae the reception fur another bath, tae wash the stinking pish aff her face and oot ae her dripping hair. She looked at her complexion in the mirror, trying tae ignore the incessant humming coming fae the pipe that entered her cell fae the wan next door before it carried oan through tae the next wan, underneath the windae. It wis as if her life wis reverting backwards. The last time she’d hid acne, hid been when she wis thirteen years auld…the same year her period hid started. She hidnae hid a period since she’d been arrested. Even withoot the foundation, eye make-up, and glossy lipstick, she’d never looked this bad. She’d also been forced tae stoap smoking her wee Panatelas, due tae the cost and she’d never been able tae fully master the art ae rolling her ain fags due tae the constant tremor in baith her hauns…another unexpected symptom she’d developed since the day ae her arrest by Wilma Thain, the chief inspector she’d hid a haun in rapidly promoting. She turned away fae the mirror. The face staring back at her wis a stranger. It hid a painful, shocking look aboot it, the look ae somewan who’d been through the mill and back and who looked as if they wurnae gonnae make it. The face frightened her. The longer she stared at it, the mair it hid started tae morph intae a reflection ae Sally Burke’s terror-ridden expression, the wan she’d been wearing as she’d been bodily lifted up aff the pish puddled flair by four screws, and carted alang the wing fae where they’d jist come fae, her screaming and howling bouncing aff the bare, painted breeze-block walls, as the prisoner, Henderson, hid been marched aff between two other screws, laughing at the carnage she’d left behind. She honestly didnae know how she wis gonnae survive.