by Ian Todd
“Naw. Ah’ve no thought up a title yet.”
“So?” Liz continued. “Is it about you and Senga?”
“Well, Ah think there’s wan character that might resemble her.”
“And?”
“And well, Ah’m still working oan it…developing the theme.”
“It sounds to me as if you’re being a bit coy, Johnboy.”
“Ah’ve been oan tae him, bit he won’t share any ae it wae me. So, anything youse kin find oot aboot it the night suits me jist fine, so it dis,” Senga said.
“C’mon, Johnboy, you can’t leave us in suspense, laddie,” Staffy said.
“Okay, it’s aboot this sexually frustrated primary school teacher...”
“Really?” Liz asked, eyes wide.
“Naw, Ah’m only jesting. Honestly, Ah don’t want tae speak aboot it, bit there is a teacher in it, so there is…in fact, there’s a few teachers, noo that Ah think aboot it.”
“And?”
“And, well, that’s it. As Ah said, Ah’m still working oan it. Another few months should see me wae a first draft…Ah think that’s whit the real authors call it at that stage. Ah’ve also discovered that ma grammar isnae that good either.”
“Well, if you need anyone to proof read it, just give me a shout,” Liz volunteered.
“Believe you me, Liz, hen, whitever he’s writing isnae gaun anywhere, until Ah hiv a good read through it. God, Ah’m starting tae feel nervous efter that book title aboot somewan called Sexy Susan,” Senga said, tae mair laughter.
“Well?” Senga asked him.
“Well, whit?”
“The night? Whit did ye think?”
“Aye, it wis a good laugh. They seem a good bunch. The singing could’ve been better, though. Mr Social Worker and that missus ae his, Margaret, ur pure tone deaf, so they ur. Buddy Holly wid’ve been spinning in his grave the night.”
“And the food?”
“Unbelievable.”
“Aye, Ah know. Ah think we’ll leave it a wee while before we invite any ae them across. It’ll gie ye time tae practice,” she volunteered, smiling. “So whit wis the book that Dolina’s man, John, gied ye oan the way oot?”
“Oh, right. It wis a cook book oan cooking wae garlic. He says there’s a bit at the back that shows ye how tae grow yer ain as well. He says it’s a doddle, so it is.”
“Brilliant.”
“Ah still want tae go up tae that bookshoap. Hector telt me that it’s open oan Sundays. We’ll maybe take a run across the morra. John says that’s where he picked up the garlic book. He says the place is full ae amazing cookbooks. He claims that when he first met Dolina, she couldnae boil an egg.”
“Ye should’ve telt them mair aboot whit ye wur writing. They probably aw think ye’re writing something that’s smutty.”
“Ah am.”
“Oh, Johnboy, Ah swear tae God, ye better no be. Ah hiv tae live and work aboot here, ye know. They’ll aw think ye’re writing aboot me.”
“Ah am.”
“Ah’m telling ye, when we get hame, Ah’m hivving a look.”
“Naw, ye’re no. And anyway, believe you me, none ae that crowd wid be interested in reading any ae the shite Ah’m writing aboot. Christ, Ah widnae even know where tae start tae try tae get something published.”
“So, whit’s the big secret then? Why kin ye no tell me…maybe Ah kin help…gie ye some ideas like.”
“Look, leave it. Ye’ll get a wee swatch soon…Susan,” he said, huskily, squeezing her knee, as she yelped.
“Where the hell did ye come up wae a title like that…The Sultry Secrets Ae Sexy Susan? Christ, Ah thought Liz, everywan in fact, wur gonnae pee themsels.”
“Ah cannae remember. Ah think it wis wan ae Sleazebag Donald’s bestselling flicks across in Germany at wan time.”
“Sleazebag Donald…wis that no the guy that goat…”
“His dick and baws stuffed doon the back ae his throat the night ae the party?”
“Imagine, in a place like Glesga tae. There’s some sick people oot there, so there is. You never knew him, did ye?”
“Peter hid some contact wae him. Ah met him wance. Looked pretty weird, so he did.”
“Sleazy?”
“Naw, dressed up like something oot ae the sixteenth century…kinda Three Muskateerish, withoot the sword and hat tae go wae the outfit.”
“Why wid Peter…in fact, any ae youse, hiv contact wae somewan like him?”
“Ah don’t know. It’s Glesga,” he replied, shrugging in the dark. “The Mankys hiv tae deal wae all sorts when they’re oot and aboot…and before ye ask, naw, none ae them wur ever intae investing in slutty movies.”
“Pearl said that he must’ve obviously been involved wae Wan-bob Broon’s people tae hiv been targeted by The McGregors.”
“Aye, well, she’s a journalist, so she’d know,” he said sarcastically.
“And that guy Shug The Rub?”
“Whit aboot him?”
“Who the hell gets called something like that in this day and age? Whit a total embarrassment. Everywan ootside the toon must think the place is full ae psychos, running aboot wae guns, shooting people. Please don’t tell me that ye’ve met somewan like him?”
“Nope,” he lied.
“Johnboy, ya skinny arse-bandit, ye, how’s yer napper?” Shug The Rub hid greeted him, slapping the stubble patch oan tap ae that heid ae his, efter him and Simon hid jist came oot ae The University Café oan Byres Road.
“It wis awright up until the noo,” he’d replied, as Shug and Chic Berry baith laughed.
“Ah hope ye skewered that fucking jail chief who gied ye that,” he’d snarled.
“Ah wis too busy fighting fur ma life.”
“Whit, wae a fucking stoat-the-baw?” Berry hid sneered, as if the stoat-the-baw in question hid been some sort ae wee miserable weed insteid ae a fat stocky basturt wae the strength ae a bull.
“Aye, a deid fucking stoat-the-baw. The same as whit happens tae any other haufwit that’s stupid enough tae mess any ae us aboot,” Simon hid chipped in, as everywan hid laughed.
Of course, the jollity between them hid aw been so plastic and the slitted eyes ae Shug The Rub hid telt a different story, as they’d stood there oan the pavement chewing the cud oan Byres Road that day. The Mankys hid been daeing the business fur Wan-bob Broon, who’d been lying oan remand up in The Bar-L, his trial fur the murder ae the wee nurse, Rose Bain, aboot tae start the very next day. Simon could’ve said or done anything he’d wanted tae. Aw Wan-bob’s bears, including the two they wur staunin talking tae, hid known fine well that The Mankys wur oot ae bounds tae anywan. Tae be truthful, he hidnae been too pleased wae Simon’s response either.
“Well, that wis clever,” he’d said, efter the two bears hid pulled away fae the kerb in their flashy wheels.
“Whit wis?”
“You hivving a dig at that pair.”
“Fuck them. Ah’m no gonnae staun there and take any cheek aff a pair ae thicko numpties like them.”
“Well, maybe the next time, wait until Ah’m no staunin beside ye or ye’ll hiv Senga tae deal wae,” he’d warned him.
“Oh, Ah never thought ae that. Sorry,” Simon hid said, screwing his face up, as the baith ae them hid chuckled.
That hid been the efternoon before Papa McGregor and Victor Ruth hid baith copped their whack while eating a couple ae rolls and square sausage across in The West Café in Govan. The run-in wae Shug The Rub and that henchman ae his, Chic Berry, hid taken place barely twenty four hours before the ferociousness ae the come-back fae The McGregors hid caught everywan, including The Mankys, oan the hop. The last he’d heard, wis that Berry’s skull hid been cracked open like a coconut and that if he survived, he’d probably end up sitting in a chair babbling a heap ae shite tae himsel while some poor soul hid tae change his nappy every time he shat himsel.
“So, ye enjoyed yersel…the company, Ah mean?”
“Ah suppose so.”
; “See? Ah telt ye. You…us…we need tae get oot mair often. There’s a lot ae good people oot there, so there is,” she reminded him, still feeling uncomfortable that two ae the guys in the company hid gied her arse a wee fly grope at different stages ae the night.
Normally, she wid’ve pulled the guys in question up aboot it. If it hid been in the toon she wid’ve telt them tae keep their paws tae themsels. She wid’ve probably mentioned something like that tae Johnboy as well, bit she didnae want tae put him aff venturing oot in the future. She felt sorry fur Dolina and Liz. She didnae get the impression that they wid’ve been too chuffed wae they groping men ae theirs.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Flintlock McBean’s eyes sprung open. He must’ve dozed aff. His glass wis still hauf full. The dug wis awready across at the door, emitting low whines while pawing at the bottom ae it. He waited. The knock hidnae been a loud wan. He glanced across at the clock oan the mantelpiece. Ten past wan. It wid be a holidaymaker. He swithered as tae whether he should get up and answer the knock or ignore it. Whoever they wur, probably widnae hing aboot wance they saw the inside ae his best van. Even if they did, they’d probably leave efter only the wan night.
“Sharrupp, Blackie!” he cursed, as the collie let oot a sudden bark and he shot forward in the chair, a spluttering, chesty cough wracking his body.
He stretched oot an erm and picked up the letter that hid confronted him below the letterbox the previous day, while he wiped his wet, whiskery chin wae his other sleeve. He started tae read it again, before tossing it back doon oan tap ae the other rejections. Everywan ae them hid stated that while they’d be happy tae consider his request fur a loan, he’d need tae put the site up as collateral against it. It wisnae the first time that he’d been oan the verge ae capitulating. He wished he hidnae picked up the sodden magazine, floating aimlessly in The Minch, wae its tempting adverts, informing him that a solution tae aw his problems wis only a phone call away. He’d been doon tae his last few pennies as the phone box hid greedily gobbled them up. He’d changed his mind and hid been aboot tae drap the receiver when a voice hid answered. Loan? No problem, sir, the maid hid sang. It hid taken aw his coins before she’d finally managed tae interpret whit he’d been saying and read his address back tae him before the line went deid. The first letter hid arrived four days later. He’d hid tae wait another week before another family arrived and crossed his palm wae coins. He’d gone back doon tae the phone box wae three wrinkled, dried oot pages in his haun that time. He could’ve sworn that it hid been the same singing, chirpy sounding maid, that hid answered the phone each time, as he’d gone through the telephone numbers fae the adverts. Apart fae the pictures in the wee accompanying brochures, showing families and auld people driving aboot in fancy, brand new cars or heidin aff oan holiday, the wee bairn clutching her teddy, the small print oan the bottom ae the letters hid aw basically said the same. It aw seemed too risky. There wis nowan that he could talk tae that could gie him advice…well, advice that he could trust. He looked up as the dug barked again. Despite it being the middle ae the season, he knew that any income generated widnae cover the rates arrears. The letter fae a Mr Bryant, fae the revenue department ae Sutherland County Council, that he’d used tae light his stove a couple ae days earlier wae, stated that unless he could pay aff his hunner and ten pounds arrears within twenty-eight days, then they’d issue a summons and send in the sheriff officers. That hid been five weeks ago. Mr Bryant hid also reminded him, that seeing as this wisnae the first time that he’d hid tae write tae him o’er the years, that in order tae recover whit they wur entitled tae, property could be repossessed, if any household possessions didnae raise enough funds tae cover the ootstanding debt. He’d been close a few times, bit never this close. Oan a good week, he could take in fourteen, maybe fifteen pounds. In a bad week, which wis maist weeks, cars wid turn up, loiter wae their engines running, before daeing a U-turn, and heiding back the way they’d come. In the past month, the lets hid generated four pounds, despite him lowering the daily rate twice since the season started back in April. He wondered if this wid be the year that wid see him finished. He’d been dependent oan the income fae Guthrie’s, the fishmonger, across in Lairg. Despite the fuel costs, he’d still previously managed tae put a wee bit away tae see him through the winter.
“I’m sorry, Flintlock, but McVeigh’s have given us a better deal, plus they’ve guaranteed a Thursday delivery with a wider selection. People’s habits have changed. They want more choice and are prepared to pay for it. People’s income has improved because of what’s happening across at Nigg. They’ve started building houses about here for the first time in a generation,” Sorley hid telt him, looking embarrassed, as he’d returned hame wae the fish in the back ae the Landy.
He didnae blame Sorley. Like him, he hid overheids and bills that needed paying. Sentimentality and business hid never made good bed fellows. A few years earlier, he’d been supplying as far as Tain and Alness, until McVeigh’s hid swooped and priced him oot ae the market in their fancy white refrigerated vans. Skibo Castle hid been the first ae the big hooses in Sutherland tae let him know that he hid competition. There hid been nae negotiating either. His father and grandfather before him hid always supplied the Carnegies. He still hid the letter somewhere that informed him that his shellfish wid no longer be required efter a mutual arrangement hid been agreed between the castle and McVeigh’s. The refurbishment and replacement plan fur the site hid been shelved efter three ae the newer vans hid been hitched up and towed fae the site efter being repossessed, when he couldnae make the monthly repayments. He wisnae alone. Findlay MacLeod and Ewan MacKenzie wur in the same boat. If it hidnae been fur Arlene and Iona working in the Spar, the only business that Assynt Development Holdings couldnae intimidate, then they wid’ve capitulated and gied up their crofts long before noo.
Chapter Twenty Eight
“Right,” Johnboy announced tae Mr Hopkins, snatching up the sheet ae paper fae the roller ae the typewriter, as the cat opened his eyes tae see whit aw the commotion wis aboot. “Jist stay where ye ur. Ah’m only aff fur a bath,” he said, as the cat made a move tae follow him.
“Use some ae this…bit mind, jist a wee haunful,” Senga hid warned him earlier, efter quickly nipping intae the bathroom, before returning and haunin o’er a box ae Radox bath salts. “Sorry, bit ye’re jist too sweaty fur a kiss and a cuddle. Bye,” she’d sang, before rushing oot the door, efter he’d complained that his shoulders and back wur knackered.
Despite clacking away oan the typewriter fur the past hour and a hauf, he hidnae really written much, other than tae finish a chapter. It hidnae really mattered. He’d discovered that writing wis much the same as listening tae music.
“Therapeutic? My, that’s a big word fur somewan like you,” Senga hid playfully chided him when he’d telt her, before gaun oan tae claim responsibility. “See?”
The ‘See?’ being her way ae telling him that if it hidnae been fur her introducing the typewriter intae his life, he widnae hiv discovered a new thing in his life. Gie her her due, she never missed a trick, he smiled tae himsel, efter lowering his body intae the warm, bath-salted water, ignoring the scratching and meowing fae the bottom ae the door. It hid been a strange turn ae events. Whenever he missed a day tapping away oan the typewriter, he felt it. It wis as if he wis hivving withdrawal symptoms. The mornings wur the best time. While he’d always been up at least a hauf an hour before her in the mornings, even in the flat back in the toon, it wis noo a couple ae hours. She’d stoapped using the alarm clock. At seven, he’d jist open the living room door and let the cat oot. Mr Hopkins wid nip up the stairs and dae the rest.
“Wid you stoap leaving that bedroom door open in the mornings when ye get up?” she’d girn, before starting oan two slices ae toast and her first cup ae coffee ae the day, efter coming oot ae the bath wae her towel wrapped roond her that he always found quite sexy, bit never goat the chance ae taking advantage ae, apart fae a Saturday or Sunday mo
rning when she wisnae working.
“Aye, and good morning tae you too, darling,” he always hit her wae, never failing tae extract a wee wry smile back.
His mind drifted back tae earlier in the morning. He’d manage tae settle his rage. The writing hid seen tae that. She hidnae been away two minutes, before she’d arrived back, aw agitated.
“The road’s blocked…there’s a ditch across it, how am Ah gonnae get tae work?” she’d squealed in frustration.
“Eh?”
“At the bottom ae the track beside The Road Tae Naewhere…somewan’s dug a bloody big ditch across it, so they hiv. Betsy’s still doon there.”
Efter him grabbing a spade fae the shed, she’d trooped efter him, whining aw the way that she’d be late fur her patient roonds.
“Look, why don’t ye go back tae the hoose and hiv a cup ae coffee, eh? Ah’ll sort it oot.”
“Bit…”
“Oan ye go. Leave me tae it. Ye’ll jist put pressure oan me, breathing doon ma neck.”
“Bit, Ah’ll be late and…”
“Senga, piss aff back up tae the hoose. Ah’ve telt ye, Ah’ll sort it oot. Ah’ll gie ye a wee shout when it’s done,” he’d shouted at her, relieved tae see her walk back towards the hoose.
He’d been as fucking wild as a badger’s sore arse, so he hid. The basturts must’ve used a digger. There wis no way that amount ae earth and boulders wid’ve been dug up by a couple ae spades. The trench wis aboot ten feet back in tae the track fae The Road Tae Nowhere. Efter hivving a wee sniff aboot, he’d clocked the wide tyre tracks. Efter gieing himsel a minute tae calm doon, he’d started oan the left haun side as ye came doon fae theirs. The sweat hid been pissing aff him by the time he’d filled enough ae it in that wid allow Senga’s wee car tae crawl past. He’d spent another hour before he wis satisfied, leaving a mound sitting at the side ae the track. When he’d been filling in the hole, his brain hid been everywhere. It hid tae be that basturt fae across at the caravan park. Who else could it be? He’d been annoyed that Senga hid caught him at the car park doon at the hall. He could’ve nipped it in the bud when he’d hid the chance. He noo regretted no telling her aboot the sack being stuffed doon the chimney and her creepy crow nailed tae the front door. He’d never really been able tae say fur certain whether the sheep in the burn wis deliberate or no. Bit noo? The problem wae suddenly turning roond and telling her whit hid been gaun oan meant she’d end up gieing him jist as much grief as the basturt or basturts that wur targeting them in the first place…if she believed him, that wis. The problem wis still whit tae dae aboot it. She’d moan like fuck at him tae go tae the polis, which wis a non-starter, as far as he wis concerned. He’d rather sort it oot by himsel, bit how? It wis like shadow boxing. He knew nowan and didnae hiv access tae anywan that he could bounce whit he wis thinking aff ae. Ye could see fur miles during the night noo. It never goat dark unless it wis cloudy or raining. The problem wis that it wisnae as if it wis happening oan a regular, nightly basis. Bad though that might be, at least he could’ve been oot and aboot, keeping a look-oot during the night, waiting tae catch the basturts at it. That wid’ve been okay fur a while, bit sooner or later, Senga wid cotton oan that he wis leaving the hoose in the middle ae the night. She’d come doon the stairs the previous week, jist as he’d arrived back fae a wee wander. She’d been wanting tae know whit he wis up tae.
