During the course of the match, the boys passed between themselves half bottles of cheap wine, whisky and beer. But Johnny stayed sober, he was still acting out his antibiotics charade.
After the match they marched from Parkhead to Bridgeton Cross singing, “Celtic! Celtic! Ah’d walk a million miles for one of your goals, oh Celtic!” But when they got to Bridgeton Cross, the situation had changed dramatically. There were around 100 blue scarfed Derry boys amassed. On seeing the Cumbie they charged forth shouting, “F*** the Pope, up King Billy.” Both sides began grappling with each other. Some of the more bevvied Cumbie guys fell to the ground and took a kicking. Two were slashed and three more were stabbed. But due to the lack of alcohol Johnny had all his wits about him.
Two guys wearing Rangers scarves charged towards him. One of them was an ugly looking guy, with a scar, in his 20s. He shouted to Johnny, “You’re gonnae get it, ya Fenian bastard ye.” As he approached Johnny, he was waving a knife wildly in his direction. The other guy ran towards Johnny shouting his battle cry, “Bridgeton Derry!”
Johnny pulled the sword out of his coat and lashed out. The first blow hit the dark-haired guy on the head and cut him wide open. The other fellow with the scar was about to stab Johnny and lifted his knife.
Johnny swung his sword, hitting the guy on the hand, two fingers and the knife went flying into the air. The guy hit the pavement holding his bleeding hand shouting, “Ya Bastard ye, you’ve cut aff ma fingers.”
Johnny and the rest of his gang heard police sirens and made off quickly in the direction of the Gorbals. They split up into smaller groups and pretended they were ordinary Celtic supporters walking back from the game. They all reassembled in Crown Street, slapping each other on the back shouting, “We showed those orange Huns, naebody fucks wi’ the Cumbie.” Johnny shouted.
He was proud of his boys and they were equally proud of him. Cutting the guy’s fingers off with an antique sword would make him a Gorbals gang legend.
They were all elated, victory had proved that the Cumbie were the most powerful gang in Glasgow. They looked bigger and more ferocious than the Tongs and made the Derry look like meagre opponents. There had been five stabbings on the Derry casualty side and two on the Cumbie side. “5-2!” Johnny shouted as if it was a football score. They all cheered.
One of the Cumbie boys, aged about 16, looked at Johnny as if he was a movie star. “Johnny, see that guy you chopped the fingers off. Dae ye think he’ll ever work again?”
Johnny laughed, “Aye certainly… as a shorthand typist!”
He left his gang and headed back to the house to get changed. Sure, he had to meet Cathy at the Plaza later on.
Chapter 21
DATE
He studied himself in the mirror and looked fabulous. He had his shiny Hong Kong suit on, cream coloured Arthur Black shirt, dark tie, silk hankie in the breast pocket and highly polished dark brogues.
His mother looked at him and said, “Johnny, you look smashing, what a good looking fella you are! Have ye got a wee date on?” He began to blush slightly, the sort of blush a son gives his mother when he is being teased about his aspiring love life. His little brother entered the room with a cheeky grin. He put on a parrot’s voice, “Who’s a pretty boy then?” He pointed at Johnny’s gear, “You look like one of those Chicago gangsters you see at the pictures.” Johnny felt irritated but regained his composure to reply, “At least ah don’t look like a horror movie star like you!” Joseph laughed and shouted in a mocking voice, “Johnny’s got a wee bird on! Johnny’s got a wee bird on!”
His mother shouted to him, “For goodness sake, leave your big brother alone. He’s at the right age for courting.” Johnny laughed, “Aye, there’s nothing wrang wi’ chasing the birds. It could be worse… ah could be chasing men.”
He left the tenement and walked along Eglinton Street. He felt a bit nervous and somewhat paranoid. What if Cathy did not like the way he looked? That would be a bad scenario but what if she wasn’t there? All done up and nowhere to go.
As he neared the Plaza Ballroom, he saw two young Cumbie guys coming towards him. They had big grins. Johnny paused for a few moments. Although they had not been there at what was now being called “The Battle of Bridgeton” he presumed that they had been regaled about his sword fighting exploits. He was spot on. The two youths looked extremely scruffy as they stood next to him. One of them said with deference, “We heard you were like Robert the Bruce in Bridgeton. You gave the Huns a good tanking wi’ your sword.”
Johnny nodded with a light grin but gave no immediate reply. He had a detached air about him. Besides, he did not like lower members of the Cumbie talking to him in such an over familiar way. The young guys had not given him the respect, as leader of the YYC, he was due. The reference to Robert Bruce irritated him. The other guy could sense that his pal had made a faux pas and attempted to paper over the cracks. “You look like a million dollars, Johnny. You heading for a lumber?” Johnny said nothing and just nodded his head briefly. With a straight face, that looked menacing, he walked off. The two young guys looked nervous, just hoping that they had not been too familiar, been too cheeky to their gang leader, who was now after all a bit of a legend.
He walked into the Star Bar at Eglinton Toll, just across from the Plaza. He was gasping for a pint to soothe his nerves before, hopefully, meeting Cathy. But he was still off the drink. “What can ah get ye son?” said the old grey-haired barman who reeked of fags and booze. “An Irn Bru pal.” Johnny said in an aggressive tone.
“An Irn Bru? Surely ye want a pint before the dancing?” the old barman said.
“How dae ye know ah’m gaun tae the dancing?”
“Well you look like it the way yir done up and aw.”
Johnny believed the barman was being insolent. Did he not know who he was? This was Johnny McGrath, leader of the Cumbie! “Look pal, gi’ me a fucking Irn Bru and if ah get any more of your crummy patter, ah’ll wreck this joint.”
The barman suddenly looked frightened and moved off to get a glass of Irn Bru. When he did so, Johnny saw two men talking to him in hushed tones. The barman gave Johnny his glass of Irn Bru and said, “On the house. Sorry, ah didnae know who you were.” Johnny picked up the glass, his temper had subsided. “Oh, that’s ok pal, it’s just that ah’m on antibiotics and ah would love a pint.” He then put on a menacing tone, “In fact ah could MURDER a lager.”
The old barman’s beer-sodden face drained of blood. He moved off quickly to serve another customer. Johnny finished his soft drink and walked across the road into the Plaza. He paid his admission fee and the place was teeming with people. Men after women. Women after men. He thought it looked like a cattle market. He concentrated on the women and was sure many of them would sleep with him at the drop of a hat, or their knickers
There were fat birds, thin birds, tall birds, short birds, ugly birds, plain birds and a smattering of beautiful birds. He had been here several times before and thought how alcohol changed one’s perception. At the start of the night the ugly birds, well, looked ugly. But after a few bevvies they became more beautiful by the minute. By the end of the night, thanks to the power of alcohol, every bird in the place looked beautiful.
On the dance floor there were hundreds of couples dancing to a live band who were playing Marmalade’s Ob-La Di, Ob-La Da… “Desmond has a barrow in the marketplace…” There was a giant glitter ball above, radiating a light that gave the couples a glamorous look. Johnny scanned the dancefloor, there was no sign of Cathy among the dancers. He looked at the packed bar, still no sign of Cathy. “Stay cool,” he murmured to himself, “Stay cool and look confident.”
He walked around the edges of the dancefloor. There were tables full of people. Some sat in little alcoves giving each other the “lovey-dovey patter.” He heard one scruffy looking numpty, with matted black hair and a moustache that reminded him of Hitler, saying, “Ye know, ah fell in love wi’ you when we first met.” The recipient of the complime
nt, a big fat lady with a crooked nose, took a drink of her vodka and coke and replied, “But Charlie, we only met an hour ago.” Charlie grinned with chipped teeth and replied “Ah know, Sadie, but time disnae matter. For me it was love at first sight.”
“What a fucking patter merchant!” Johnny thought, “His patter is so bad, it’s good.” Charlie and Sadie kissed passionately. Johnny imagined what would happen next. They would probably stagger out of there and end up humping in some dark lane nearby. It was when he was thinking this he saw Cathy. She looked radiant and was talking to another person facing her. His heart sank, maybe she had met another bloke. Maybe she had fallen for another Charlie. He thought of his modus operandi. If another bloke was chatting her up, he would beat the shite out of him and he did not give a damn for the consequences. They could lock him up, jail him, but nobody, no man, could come in the way of their love. A love that was destined to be.
He approached the table with apprehension. But this evaporated when he saw she had been chatting with another woman, one of her old pals. Denice was an attractive looking girl, aged around 23, who worked in the same factory as Cathy. Several years before, she was at a party when Johnny walked in and she made a drunken pass at him.
Perhaps she had forgotten but Johnny had not. He prided himself that he was like the proverbial elephant who never forgot. He put on his most confident swagger and gallus accent, “Hello dolls, fancy seeing you here!” Cathy’s face flushed, he knew it was the flush of love. She rose from the table, “This is Denice, a pal fae work. She said she’d keep me company until you turned up. Do you know each other?”
Johnny grinned, “Aye ah think we met at a party a long time ago.”
Denice looked nervous, “Aye it was a long time ago Johnny, nice tae see you again.” She shook his hand and left. Now he and Cathy were alone! The band began to play an apt song – Strangers in the Night.
During the course of the evening, he bought Cathy several glasses of lager but stayed on the Irn Bru. When they sat at a little candlelit table everything seemed just right. And when they danced together, they looked like the perfect couple, young slim and beautiful, and very much in love. A contrast to patter merchant Charlie and fat Sadie. Out of breath dancing, they went back to the table for a long chat.
“Johnny, the reason I’ve no’ seen you is ma mother has been steadily going downhill since ma father disappeared,” Cathy explained.
“Ah know Cathy, it must have come as a terrible blow.”
“It was not only to her but tae me as well. Ah just hope he comes back fae Ireland soon.”
Johnny felt gutted inside, he was dying to tell her the truth, but he couldn’t. Lies do not mix well with true love.
“Ah think your father is lying low until the heat is off. Then he’ll be back.”
Cathy became tearful, “Do you really think so, Johnny?” She put her hand on his. It felt so soft and loving, so beautiful. They were connected now and no-one on Earth could break that connection. They kissed. It was a passionate lingering kiss. The power of a kiss can light up a million years!
Cathy looked him in the eye and said, “Johnny, ma mother and my sister have gone tae stay wi’ my auntie in Ayr. It means ah’m all alone in the flat. Ah feel a bit frightened.”
He took both her hands and squeezed them gently, “Frightened? Nae need tae be. You’ve got me, the leader of the Cumbie gang behind you. So, there’s no’ a problem.”
“Oh, thanks Johnny, you have got a big head! Will you walk me home?”
“Of course, nae bother, goes without saying.”
They walked out of the Plaza into the cold Glasgow air holding hands. They were now a couple officially. Good things come to those who wait.
Chapter 22
LOVE
They walked hand in hand from the Plaza. On their way back to the Gorbals epicentre drunks were streaming out of pubs, obscenities were being shouted, out of tune songs were being sung. The bevvy merchants were fighting their fellow bevvy merchants while the rats skulked about the place.
But Johnny and Cathy were oblivious to it all. As far as they were concerned, they were in their own world, a world that shut out the obscenities of life, a universe that had no time for the banality of people and their vulgar ways. Johnny gripped Cathy’s hand tightly and she his, that was all that mattered. When they strolled towards Gorbals Street, a drunk man was urinating against a wall singing, “Fuck them all, fuck them all, the long and the short and the tall.” A few yards away two scruffy-looking mongrels were humping each other, for an instant Johnny comically thought that these dogs may have been in love as well.
He was mystified about this love thing because he had been used to shouting the gang slogan, “Cumbie, ya bass!” for all the world to hear but now he had an overwhelming compulsion to shout, “I love Cathy!” But, of course, this was something he could never do. It would hardly fit in with his gangster image. People would have thought he had gone soft or mad, or maybe both.
As they walked through the streets to Cathy’s flat in Queen Elizabeth Square, he thought that love gave him a feeling that was more intoxicating than the cheap wine or lager he had been used to. Sure, it was free as well, but the other interesting side effect was his violent tendencies seem to have subsided. Inside he felt like a big marshmallow. Soft and sticky. It was a weird yet wonderful feeling.
They passed a couple who were arguing on the corner of Florence Street and Old Rutherglen Road. The woman in her 30s was shouting to her man, “If you sat on your arse instead of talking through it, we might get somewhere.” Her man, a wimpy-looking fellow, with horn rimmed glasses, looked frightened at the battle axe before him but he summoned up enough courage to retaliate, “If ah had a face like your, ah’d teach ma arse how tae speak.” Infuriated, the woman punched her lover full force in the face. He went flying across the pavement before landing into a puddle nearby.
Cathy looked at Johnny, “What a carry on, some people just cannae behave themselves. Can they Johnny?”
“Nah they both deserve each other,” he replied. But he had a strange thought, perhaps this couple were also in love. Perhaps they loved each other as much as he loved Cathy but showed it in a different, more violent way. His mind was racing. They came towards Cathy’s high-rise flats and then saw his auntie Agnes coming towards him. He had not seen her since she had given him the confidential information from the police station.
She had a pensive look on her face. Johnny stopped with Cathy to talk for a few moments. He said to her, “Is everything ok? You look miserable, your face is tripping you.”
Agnes sighed, “It was ok until two weeks ago,hassle that’s when two daft guys, alkies, moved intae the flat just across the lobby fae me.”
Johnny looked concerned, “Why, what’s the matter, are these guys giving you any hassle?”
She looked apprehensive, “Well, aye, they’re drinking all the time, ah don’t know where they are getting the money fae. But somebody told me they were shoplifters and all their money goes on the bevvy. They invite their pals up night and day and they are always causing a racket and other trouble.”
Johnny’s concern accentuated. “Oh aye, what sort of trouble?”
“Well apart from the shouting and bawling at aw times o’ night they are pishing up the close and causing a stink, a terrible stench.”
“Did you no’ tell them aff?” Johnny enquired.
“Oh, aye, but they threatened me and one of them said he’d throttle me wi’ his belt. He even took it off and said he’d whack me before he throttled me. Ah was terrified. The other guy was pishing up the close the other night and ah told him tae stop and put his dick away. You know what he did then?”
“What?”
He flashed his dick and shouted, ‘Maybe you need a bit of this!’ He was disgusting.”
Johnny gave Cathy a look of concern and said to his auntie, “What do these two bampots look like?”
“One is a fat guy, brown hair wi’ a scar doon his
right cheek, the other is daft looking eejit, wi’ grey hair and a squashed nose. It looks like he was a boxer.”
“Looks like he’s gonnae get it squashed again.” Johnny said before moving off with Cathy. As they stood outside the Queen Elizabeth flats, they kissed passionately again. Cathy said, “Dae ye want to come up for a cup o’ tea?”
Johnny could feel his pulse racing. It was pulsating at the same rate as when he was at full throttle during gang fights. He felt his penis getting harder.
They took the lift up, walked along the corridor and entered Cathy’s flat. There were photos of her father and mother in the living room. He sat on the couch “How many sugars?” Cathy asked. He rose and took her in his arms. They both fell onto the couch kissing wildly. Their clothes fell to the floor and Cathy gasped and moaned as Johnny penetrated her. It was a first for them. Cathy had never made love before and Johnny had never made love while being in love. Later they went into Cathy’s small bedroom and made love all night.
In the morning Johnny awoke with Cathy in his arms. He looked at her face as she slept. He had never seen her look so content and did not want to wake her. He put his clothes on and slipped quietly away. It was about 8am and the sunlight was being kind to all those who walked beneath it. He went into a shop and bought a bottle of milk. He headed up to his auntie’s tenement and knocked on the door opposite her flat. No-one answered. He knocked again. A fat man appeared at the door, “What dae ye want?” The next minute, a grey-haired man with a squashed nose stood behind him slugging from a wine bottle.
Johnny was straight to the point, “Ah’ve come tae tell ye to start behaving yourselves and cut the noise doon, ok?” The fat guy snarled, “No, it’s no’ ok, ye cannae tell us what tae dae, that’s oor business.” Squashed nose shouted in agreement, “Beat it, ya bampot!” Johnny smashed the bottle of milk over the fat guy’s head. He collapsed outside the door. He grabbed squashed nose and head butted him, squashing his nose even more. Johnny made off quickly regretting he had wasted so much milk on the fat man, but then again there was no use crying over spilt milk.
The Incredible Rise of a Gorbals Gangster Page 13
