Dumfries

by Todd, Ian

  “Whit? It wis an accident,” Snappy hid protested.

  King Beast hid goat up oan tae his knees and made the mistake ae glowering and growling at Snappy, as he picked up the cloth cut-oots that wur scattered across the flair.

  “Right, get done whit ye wur supposed tae be daeing, Johnston, and get back tae yer machine. And you, Connor, don’t move away fae that table withoot first telling wan ae us,” Dickheid Dick, the SO in charge ae the uniformed watchers, hid growled at the beast.

  Within a few seconds, Snappy hid been sent packing back tae his machine wae a full batch ae failures and telt tae un-pick them aw and start again. Johnboy’d hid four rejections in his first batch, Tony’d hid five, bit Silent’s hid aw been accepted oan the first go. Johnboy and Tony sat thegither in the fourth row fae the back while Silent and Snappy sat in the row jist in front ae them. Pat hid been put in the woodwork shoap next door. Fae then oan in, Snappy wid make it his daily mission tae make life hell fur Robert The Beast and his bunch ae perverted pals.

  “Hellorerr, Father, ur ye looking fur a seat?” Jimmy Baxter, the YO he’d attacked in Longriggend, said tae the wee priest, bringing Johnboy back tae where he’d been before he’d been distracted by whit wis happening across at the stoat-the-baw table.

  “Oh, bless you, son,” the priest replied, swerving aff tae his left and sitting doon.

  Johnboy hid caught sight ae Father Leonard, the wee hunchbacked priest, oot ae the corner ae his eye, heiding in his direction, carrying a tray ae food, obviously looking fur a table tae anchor at. Johnboy wis relieved at Baxter’s intervention. He widnae hiv known whit tae say tae the priest if he’d asked tae sit doon beside him. It widnae be a problem fur Tony, him being a Catholic and aw that. He wid’ve known how tae deal wae the intrusion ae a God-man arriving oan the scene.

  “Right, ya prick, ye, Ah don’t want any complaints or ye kin go up and get yer ain fucking grub,” Snappy announced, plapping two trays doon oan tae the table before anchoring oan tae the seat opposite Johnboy.

  Johnboy looked doon. Somewhere underneath the mound ae chips, a couple ae straggly wrinkled sausages and a scoop ae beans lurked. He noticed that there wis still plenty ae room tae spread the food apart oan the tray tae make it look appetising. He glanced at Snappy.

  “Don’t start,” Snappy growled a warning, popping a chip intae his gub and smiling.

  “See you, Snappy? Whit Ah’m looking at oan that tray ae mine sums up yer shitey life so far, so it dis,” Johnboy scowled.

  “Whit?” Snapper protested.

  “It’s like a fucking dug’s dinner, so it is.”

  “Well, if ye’re no happy, why don’t ye jist get that spotty arse ae yers across there and get yer ain fucking grub in future, ya selfish fucking eejit, ye,” Snappy growled, as Tony, Pat and Silent arrived oan the scene.

  “Ah bloody well will, ya knob-end, ye. There’s fuck aw wrang wae ma leg. Ah wis jist gieing ye a using tae see how long Ah could get ye tae be ma gofer,” Johnboy retorted, laughing oot loud in triumph and getting grins fae everywan.

  “Up yours,” Snappy laughed, leaning across and lifting a chip fae Silent’s tray, as Silent went and lifted a spare seat fae Father Leonard’s table.

  “So, how did youse aw get oan then?” Tony asked them.

  “Wae whit?” Pat asked, looking at everywan, in case he’d missed something.

  “Wae Fanny Flaw. Who dae ye think Ah’m talking aboot?”

  “Oh, her? Ah’d gie her wan, even if she dis come across as a dippy hippy kind ae chick, so Ah wid,” Snappy volunteered.

  “Johnboy?” Tony asked.

  “Ah telt her no tae call me back any time soon.”

  “Aye, she hisnae changed a day, his she? Still kidding hersel and everywan else oan that she’s goat something tae offer, the stupid cow. Nothing’s changed fae Thistle Park as far, as Ah could see.”

  “Whit’s wrang, Tony? Ye’re no still pissed aff that she put ye doon as some sort ae psycho when ye wur a wee shitey-arsed toe-rag, ur ye?” Snappy asked him, winking across tae Pat.

  “Aye, right,” Tony retorted wae a grin, popping wan ae Johnboy’s chips in tae his gub.

  “Ah fucking hate that, so Ah dae. The next basturt caught lifting a chip aff ae ma tray is getting stabbed in the back ae the haun wae a fork.”

  “Johnboy, shut the fuck up. That’s nothing,” Pat said, lowering his voice and looking aboot. “Ah kin beat that wan, so Ah kin,” Pat announced, nodding his heid knowingly, a smug look spread across that kisser ae his.

  “Right, well, hurry the fuck up and spit it oot, Pat. Ah’m only daeing fourteen years. By the time you spill the beans, we’ll aw be pensioners insteid ae prisoners,” Johnboy slung in tae chuckles fae aroond the table.

  “Hoi, haud yer horses, Birdman. Ah’ve goat tae get this wan right, so Ah hiv.”

  “Aw, shut the fuck up, Pat. We’re no interested, ur we boys?” Snappy asked everywan, looking tae noise Pat up further.

  “Right, here it is…wait fur it…Ah’m a…a…a…sociopath…that’s whit Ah am,” Pat beamed, looking aboot, as if he wis waiting fur an awe-inspired fanfare tae blare oot ae everywan’s arses.

  Silence.

  “Well, come oan, ya bunch ae fanny flaps. Whit dae youse make ae that, eh?” Pat challenged them, looking fair chuffed wae himsel.

  “Says who?” Snappy finally asked, biting first.

  “Ah read it in ma file.”

  “Whit, she let ye read yer file?” Tony scoffed, wan eyebrow lifted, a cynical, disbelieving expression splashed across that coupon ae his.

  “Naw, naw, don’t be daft. Ah clocked it when Ah wis pointing oot whit wis so good aboot the green emerald Mexican sapphire ring she hid oan her finger. Nice wee gem, so it is. She wis that busy being impressed by ma superior knowledge that Ah could’ve practically sat back wae ma feet up oan that desk ae hers and read ma file twice o’er, word fur word, withoot her knowing whit the fuck wis gaun oan roond aboot her.”

  “So, whit’s a sociopath when it’s getting its arsehole fingered by a filthy wee priest then?” Snappy asked oan behauf ae them aw, playing tae the sniggers fae the Garngad crowd at the next table.

  “Well, it no wan ae yer two-bit-dime scummy, run-ae-the-mill psychos, that’s fur sure,” Pat assured everywan, reaching across and stealing wan ae Silent’s sausages as he turned roond tae see if the priest hid heard whit wis being said aboot him and his brotherhood.

  “Pat, ur ye sure sociopath disnae spell homosexual backwards?” Snappy asked him.

  “Ha, fucking ha, Snappy, ya tadge-pole, ye. Ah knew that oot ae everywan, you’d be the wan that wid be the maist jealous.”

  “So, whit exactly did the file say, Pat?” Johnboy wanted tae know.

  “Ah’ve jist telt youse. They’ve goat me doon as some big-time sociopath, so they hiv. Probably something tae dae wae ma ducking and diving in the jewellery trade, seeing as it’s a specialist kind ae job. Fuck, psychos ur ten a penny in here,” Pat declared wae a wave ae his haun. “Jist look aboot ye.”

  Pat turned tae the Garngad crowd at the next table, popping a chip intae his gub fae Tony’s tray, as he puffed oot his chest.

  “Ah bet none ae youse hiv come across many real sociopaths in yer travels, eh?”

  “Naw, bit we’ve learned tae recognise a bucket load ae bullshit when we hear it,” wan ae them quipped drily, as everywan at the tables roond aboot them burst oot laughing.

  “Aye, Ah think ye’re full ae shit, masel,” Snappy telt him, looking aboot fur support.

  “Tony?” Johnboy asked.

  “Who knows? Ah’ve heard ae somewan being a called social misfit, which fits Pat doon tae a T, bit sociopath is a new wan oan me.”

  “Ah’m telling ye…don’t listen tae Goldfinger sitting there, spouting shite like it wis fur free. It’s probably something tae dae wae him being suitable fur the new castration programme that the Tories ur talking aboot bringing in fur lanky big skinny basturts who’re confused aboot their sexuali
ty,” Snappy announced loudly tae guffaws fae hauf the dining hall.

  “Good evening. My name is John Turney and these are the news headlines in Scotland tonight.

  Glasgow Police have formed a special task group to investigate the unexplained disappearance of a number of the city’s leading underworld figures over the past two years. It’s thought that the task group will include forensic pathologists and missing person experts from The City of London Missing Persons Unit. Jack Tipple, Glasgow’s Assistant Chief Constable, refused to be drawn on naming those missing or being investigated, but did emphasise that the remit of the task group had still to be established and that it would be a number of weeks before those involved in the group would be in a position to ascertain whether there were suspicious circumstances surrounding the disappearances of certain individuals and whether there was a need to explore further what had become of them. We can exclusively reveal that some of the names being investigated are Shaun Murphy, Derek ‘Deck’ McGuiness, Robert ‘Bootsy’ Bell, William ‘Blaster’ Mackay and several others. Sources close to Glasgow Police have stated that they believe that two particular groups of gangsters in the city are responsible for the disappearances and that more names may be added to the list…

  A newly wed bride and her groom exited from the city’s Martha Street registry office today to find their wedding car had been stolen. A tearful, but visibly pregnant Jessica Brown, nee Galbraith, daughter of conservative MP for Bearsden, Timothy Jenkins Galbraith, was in tears when she found out that her newly wed husband, successful businessman Alastair Brown, had put their passports, flight tickets and honeymoon spending money in the boot of their wedding car for safe keeping. It then took an anguished and tearful Mr Brown, who is a private security consultant, a further twenty minutes to flag down a taxi on George Street, whilst being pursued by a pack of journalists, to try and track down his new bride after she’d locked the doors of her parents’ car from the inside and driven off to an unknown destination, leaving her parents and new in-laws stranded on the pavement…

  A charity supporting the homeless that claimed that Glasgow Corporation’s tenants are living in slums worse than those experienced by tenants in the city in the 1920s and 1930s was challenged today by labour Cllr George Sheridan, chair of the housing committee. Councillor Sheridan pointed to all the slum clearances over the past ten years that had allowed people for the first time ever, to have inside toilets and bathrooms in their homes…

  Police have admitted that they are concerned for the safety of pretty seventeen-year-old Isobel Hutchison, who hasn’t been seen since leaving her work on Monday evening at 5pm. The girl, who worked in Bigforests on Argyle Street, was last seen entering the back passenger seat of a dark blue or grey Ford Cortina in Glassford Street, which headed towards Stockwell Street in the direction of the Victoria Bridge. Miss Hutchison lives with her parents in Rannoch Avenue, the opposite side of the city from where the car she was in was last seen heading. Anyone with any information is asked to contact…”

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  It hid been ten months since Johnboy hid arrived in Dumfries and he wis sitting aw packed, ready tae make a move. O’er the months, he’d managed tae get himsel in tae a wee routine. It wis the only way guys like him wur able tae keep their heids above the water-line. First thing in the morning he wis up daeing a wee keep-fit regime that he doubled or sometimes trebled last thing at night before they put the lights oot. If he hid time, he managed a bit ae reading. Efter the lights wur oot, he’d listen tae the John Peel show fur a while before sleeping and starting the same routine o’er again the next morning. It never ceased tae amaze him how Silent survived and managed his time, other than tae pull that plonker ae his. Although Simon hid arranged fur a decent tranny tae be sent in tae Silent, writing and reminding him that he’d need tae be sure tae put a PP9 battery in tae it, it wis still sitting beside Silent’s bed, minus the battery. He never read books or magazines either, bit always came across as reasonably comfortable wae his surroundings. The majority ae the YOs in Dumfries spent their time wishing their lives away, dreaming aboot the day that they’d walk through the gatehoose, oot in tae the ootstretched erms ae Freedom Street. The exceptions tae this wur the boys daeing life or HMP…and Johnboy. Fur them and him, liberation wis too far in the future tae even contemplate gaun there. He’d another quick wee peek under his bed tae make sure he hidnae missed anything. He slid the letter oot ae his shirt pocket and lifted it up tae his nose and gied it a wee sniff. It wis amazing, he thought, that he could still smell the perfume fae the Dear John letter he’d received fae Senga up in Longriggend, jist efter being sentenced. He didnae need tae read the contents. He could probably recite whit she’d written backwards. He’d take the letter oot ae his Golden Wonder crisp storage box every noo and again jist tae hiv a wee sniff ae it, tae touch base wae a past reality, that wis noo gone furever. Although he never appreciated it at the time, Senga Jackson really hid meant something tae him before everything hid come crashing doon aboot they ears ae his. Even though he’d never acknowledged it, he wis still grateful that she’d taken the time tae write and say how sorry she wis wae his situation before informing him that, noo she wis a full-time, busy nurse, she wis moving oan wae her life and that she didnae hiv the time or the inclination tae keep up a friendship via letters. It hid been the word ‘friendship’ that hid penetrated his heart like a hot knife searing through butter. It hid probably been at that precise moment in time that the reality ae his sentence and the predicament that he wis in, hid finally penetrated that thick skull ae his. He wondered where the expression Dear John originally came fae. At least his Dear John letter hid goat his name right. He’d known quite a few Charlie’s, Tam’s and Derek’s who’d been oan the receiving end ae a Dear John since they’d started their sentences. He smiled, thinking aboot The Mankys. Tae noise him up, they’d goat everywan in Dumfries tae refer tae Dear Johns as Dear Johnboys in his honour. In wan sense, he’d been grateful that Senga hid taken the initiative, as it wid’ve probably embarrassed her if she’d sent him letters and he’d no replied. When he’d been in the untried hall in Barlinnie, he’d sent her a letter asking her no tae write or come up tae visit him. Something deep doon inside ae him hid subconsciously been warning him tae cut aff the ties in his life in anticipation ae being found guilty. Despite the reassurances fae Tony, Johnboy hid known fine well that Wan-bob Broon widnae come up wae the goods. Why wid he? Tony, oan behauf ae The Mankys, hid always made it clear tae Pat Molloy, Wan-bob and Charlie Hastie that they didnae want tae be seen tae be dependent or seen tae be associating themsels too closely wae The Big Man’s crowd, so it seemed a bit petty tae get upset when the help they’d requested wis eventually ignored at the last possible moment, even when the damage being inflicted wis so severe. The fact that the help being sought wid’ve meant The Big Man hivving tae compromise and expose a part ae his shady business dealings, should’ve been clear tae Tony. Tony hid admitted as much tae Johnboy and Silent in the untried hall up in Barlinnie, that that expectation wid’ve been a step too far. Oan the positive side, it wid mean he widnae be in a position tae hurt or embarrass Senga any mair than he hid in the past. The other Mankys, who regularly received letters fae the lassies ootside, wur always telling him tae write tae her. Even though he’d heard that she didnae really hing aboot wae the Springburn lassies any mair, he’d picked up wee snippets ae whit she wis up tae fae the boys when the lassies wid be telling them whit they wur getting up tae at the weekends in their letters or when Simon gied them a lift doon tae visit them while he wis filling Tony in oan whit wis happening ootside. Sometimes they’d ask wan ae the other Mankys tae tell him that Senga wis asking efter him if they’d bumped intae her in the toon centre and that she’d be pleased tae hear fae him. Her and another nurse lived no far fae Simon’s Carpet Capers. Tony hid telt him that Simon hid bumped intae her and some aulder posh guy a few times recently when he’d been oot gallivanting in the toon centre oan a Friday or Saturday night. It
hidnae taken Tony long tae also admit tae him that Simon hid also clocked Mr Posh coming oot ae her flat oan Barrington Drive at seven o’clock in the morning looking well shagged-oot.

  “Is that whit Simon said?”

  “Whit?”

  “That he looked well shagged-oot?”

  “Well, no in they exact words.”

  “So, whit did he say then?”

  “Ah thought ye wurnae bothered aboot her noo?”