by Todd, Ian
“Senga, ma wee nightingale, how ur ye daeing, hen?” he’d sang wae a big smile, motioning her intae the office, the way D’Artagnan wid’ve done, when opening a door fur some French mademoiselle.
“Hello, Simon.”
“So, whit dae ye think then?” he’d asked her, waving his erm towards the warehoose, beyond the glass.
“Ah’m impressed. Is this aw yours?”
“Yep…lock, stock and barrel,” he’d acknowledged, motioning her tae take a seat as he flicked the switch oan the back ae the kettle.
She’d watched him gaun aboot the business ae making them a cup ae tea. She’d known Simon Epstein since her ma and da moved up tae Keppochhill Road in Springburn fae the Toonheid when she’d been aboot fourteen…jist o’er five years ago. He hidnae really changed much. He wis still pretty hyper, gieing anywan who cared tae notice, the distinct impression that he wis oan edge, even when displaying that cheeky grin ae his, that she’d first come across the day she’d shyly turned up at class in The Albert Secondary School across in Petershill and been introduced tae everywan. Snappy Johnston, Jake McAlpine, Ben McCallum and Simon hid aw been in the same class as her. She’d loved her auld school in Springburn. In the Toonheid, the schools hid been segregated in tae Catholic and Protestant, which meant she’d only seen her pals efter school and at weekends. Fur some reason, she’d remembered being surprised a year or so later tae find oot that they’d aw started running aboot wae Tony Gucci, Joe McManus, Silent Smith and Johnboy. It wis only efter she’d thought aboot it, that it hid dawned oan her that she shouldnae hiv been surprised. While Simon Epstein could be extremely charming, he hid a quick temper oan him, which Senga and a couple ae the other lassies hid witnessed when they’d bumped intae him wan night, when he wis staunin, sober as a judge, eating a poke ae chips, ootside The Capri Fish and Chip Shoap oan Dundas Street, opposite the bus station. He’d been challenged by three young tickets and wan ae them, who’d looked tae be aboot the same age as him, hid pulled oot a knife. Efter hivving greeted Senga, Frances Smith and Aggie McCoy, like Mr Charming, he’d turned tae Mr Vicious and then back tae Mr Charming again in the space ae ten seconds. It hid aw been o’er in a flash and the only noticeable sign that something hid been amiss hid been the three young guys lying spread oot oan the pavement, groaning, and either clutching their hauns between their legs or trying tae stem the blood that wis gushing oot ae their noses, as Simon bent o’er, picked up the knife and drapped it doon a drain at the side ae the pavement. It hid been horrible tae witness, despite the injuries being clearly self-inflicted. The fact that she worked in the casualty department, up in The Royal, hidnae been lost oan her either, at the time. She remembered when everywan in the class wis asked whit they wanted tae dae or become efter they left school. Oot ae the four future Mankys in her class, it hid been Simon Epstein who’d informed Mr Morton, the modern studies teacher, that he wis gonnae be a successful businessman and hiv a tall building named efter him someday, ignoring the raised eyebrows fae the teacher and the sniggers fae the rest ae the class.
“No a millionaire then?” Mr Morton hid snidely scoffed at him, playing tae the crowd.
“That comes wae the territory,” Simon hid replied seriously, in a matter-ae-fact voice.
She wondered whit Mr Morton and the rest ae them in the class wid say noo if they hidnae awready been in tae Carpet Capers.
“So, is this business or pleasure?” he’d asked, putting a fancy China cup ae tea doon in front ae her, oan tap ae wan ae the glossy Indian and Afghan rug magazines, that wur neatly stacked oan the coffee table.
“Ah’m no sure, Simon,” she’d said, looking away, biting her bottom lip.
“It’s no that wee ugly auld man Ah’ve seen ye oot and aboot wae, is it? Jist say the word, and Ah’ll go and speak tae him and gie him a piece ae ma mind,” he’d said, sounding jolly, clearly trying tae fake interest in her boyfriend trouble.
“Naw, it isnae that. And anyway, Rory’s goat a black belt in judo, so he his,” Senga hid replied defensively, smiling fur the first time in God knows how long.
“Hoi, his Johnboy never telt ye aboot the squad ae black, broon, and tartan belted, white-suited, Hi-Karate types that me and Ben set aboot in Gourlay Street wan Thursday night efter they’d been prancing aboot up in the Springburn Halls trying tae impress bampots like themsels? Fuck, they ended up spread oot across Millarbank Street, looking like a bunch ae spastic crabs, so they did. In-between pissing oorsels laughing, Ah managed tae deck three ae them and Ben two, jist before they aw high-tailed it across Keppochhill Road and jumped oan tae a number 32 ootside the fire station. The cowardly basturts left the wee primary school snappers that wur wae them staunin there pishing themsels in fear, in their good white baggy-troosered outfits. Bloody liberty, so it wis. Wan wee boy asked Ben if he’d come back and take the class the next week, before asking him tae show him how he managed tae deck the two he’d put doon. Their black belts didnae help them that night, so Ah widnae allow yersel tae be too impressed by some ugly posh pug, who claims that a black belt is something special,” Simon hid said, smiling pleasantly, taking a loud slurp ae his tea fae his Partick Thistle mug, while drumming they fingers ae his right haun oan his knee.
“So, how is Johnboy then?” she’d blurted oot, no quite sure whit tae say, efter that gush ae verbal diarrhoea.
“Daeing time,” he’d said o’er the rim ae his mug.
“The place looks busy. Ye must be daeing fine,” she’d said, changing the subject, as she looked oot through the big glass windae tae the showroom flair.
“Ach, well, Ah don’t hiv any overheids worth talking aboot since Ah bought the warehoose ootright. It’s been hard graft, bit there ye go…Ah’m sure you, being a nurse, wid know aw aboot that.”
Senga remembered sitting, wondering whether she’d made the right decision in coming roond tae speak tae Simon. His ‘oan the edge’ nervy mannerisms hid only added tae her uncertainty and she hidnae been sure as tae how she wis gonnae manage tae raise the subject ae the situation that her and Lizzie hid found themsels in. She’d found it difficult no tae be mesmerised by his jumpiness. He came across as if he wis plugged in tae a wall socket or something. She’d furgoatten aw aboot that side ae the boys. They wur aw like that, noo that she came tae think aboot it. Aggie McCoy, who’d been gaun oot wae Silent at the time, put it doon tae them always ducking and diving, looking o’er their shoulders and getting by oan their wits.
“Dae ye want a tour?” he’d asked, breaking in tae her thoughts, still politely smiling, while clearly finding it difficult tae sit doon fur mair than a minute at a time.
“Naw, Ah’m fine Simon,” she’d replied, shaking her heid.
“So, it’s business then?”
The matter ae fact way in which he’d said it hid taken Senga by surprise. She’d looked across at him. He’d stoapped fidgeting and hid been staring at her, encouraging her tae speak-up, wae they eyes ae his. She hidnae been able tae help hersel, and hid burst oot greeting. He’d leaned across, lifting up a scented box ae tissues fae the wee coffee table separating them and hid wordlessly haunded them across tae her. He hidnae come o’er and physically comforted her, bit hid jist sat, stock still, no saying a word, waiting patiently fur her tae regain her composure. That wis another thing that the lassies hid aw picked up aboot the boys…there wis never much public show ae affection or emotional attachment displayed when ye wur roond aboot them. Wan night in Jonah’s Lounge, Paula Baker hid gone up tae Snappy Johnston and Ben McCalumn tae prove a point. Wae Senga and the rest ae the lassies observing fae up in the corner table, Paula hid gone and nonchalantly stood up close tae them. The baith ae them could be seen tae visibly, bit clearly unconsciously, physically back away fae her, because she’d obviously been staunin too close.
“Emotional cripples,” Paula hid declared, smiling, efter returning tae the lassies’ table.
Twenty tissues later and efter she’d hid tae compose hersel fur the umpteenth time, he’d finally spo
ken.
“Look, Senga, Ah don’t know why ye’re here, bit noo that ye ur, ye’d be as well tae get it aff ae that fine chest ae yers, whitever it is that’s bothering ye. The fact that ye’ve come here, insteid ae elsewhere, suggests tae me that ye might be in a wee bit ae bother, so don’t be shy…spit it oot…ye’re noo wae a friend,” he’d said quietly, shaking his heid at somewan through the glass, who’d been aboot tae come intae the office.
“Ah don’t know where tae start,” she’d sniffled, wiping her nose and eyes wae another tissue and inspecting it tae see how much make-up wis oan it.
“Well, how aboot at the beginning, eh?”
And that hid been that. The floodgates hid burst open again and she’d babbled non-stoap fur nearly an hour. Strangely, he’d never interrupted her wance tae ask a question or tae ask her tae repeat anything, although wae the amount ae drivel she’d been coming oot wae, it wis a miracle if he’d understood whit the hell she’d been oan aboot. She’d heard hersel repeating snippets that she’d awready raised at the beginning ae her story. The only visible reaction fae him hid been when he’d stood up and goat her a glass ae water or when he’d lifted up the tissue box, encouraging her tae delve deep. She’d noticed that his eyes narrowed at the mention ae The Stalker or Wan-bob Broon, bit other than that, he’d sat totally immobile, wae no a fidget in sight.
“So, whit dae ye think then, Simon? Is it jist paranoia, or is there something in whit Lizzie’s saying?”
“Well, ye’ve done the right thing in keeping it between yersels and no publicly broadcasting it. That’s a good thing, so it is.”
“So, there is something there?”
“Ah never said that. Because ye’re paranoid, disnae mean tae say ye’re wrang,” he’d replied, wae jist a hint ae a wee smile appearing at the side ae his mooth.
“So, we’re jist paranoid then?”
“Look, Senga, how well kin ye trust yer flatmate?”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t get me wrang…Ah’m jist saying. It’s really important that the pair ae ye keep this under yer hats…at least fur the time being.”
“Whit’s that supposed tae mean?”
“It means there’s some wild allegations in there that certain people widnae appreciate, even as a sick or innocent joke.”
“So, ye think we’re making aw this up then? Fur Christ’s sake, ma life his fallen apart, and ye’re talking aboot sick jokes? Believe you me, Simon, this isnae funny in the slightest, fae where Ah’m sitting. Ah’m scared fur Lizzie…and masel. Whit ur we gonnae dae? We cannae go oan like this furever, wondering if there’s gonnae be a chap oan the door and it’s the polis…or worse. And no tae mention that poor nurse,” she’d sobbed.
“Look, here’s ma take oan it, fur whit it’s worth. Let’s say, fur talking sake, that ye’re right aboot a connection between this farmer, doctor and nurse. Dae ye think fur wan minute youse wid be safe jist because ye went tae the bizzies? Ye hiv tae think rationally here, Senga. If some farmer, a big-shot doctor and a poor wee nurse kin get bumped-aff, then two wee nurses sharing a flat aroond in Barrington Drive ur no gonnae be much ae a problem tae get shot ae, if somewan wanted tae. Oan the other haun, if this is aw jist a co-incidence, which it sounds as if it is, then the worst thing youse could dae is make it in tae a big deal. That’s how malicious gossip gets started in the toon, so it is. The fact that youse hivnae done that and everything oan the home front looks hunky-dory suggests tae me that ye’re in the clear…at least fur the time being.”
Senga hid been hinging oan tae his every word and it hid taken a few seconds fur the add-oan at the end ae his sentence tae sink in. When it did, her alarm level hid shot through the roof.
“Fur the time being? Whit time being?” she’d croaked in fright, covering her mooth wae baith hauns.
“Look, Ah’m no trying tae scare ye here. Ah’m jist trying tae put masel in the position you and that flatmate ae yours think youse ur in. Ye probably won’t believe this, bit Ah’m wan ae these guys that goes through life being a wee bit suspicious aboot everywan and everything. Mr Suspicious, that’s whit they should call me,” he’d said, smiling apologetically. “Ah tend tae go oan ma instincts. Noo, while maist ae whit ye’ve jist said might be a figment ae somewan’s imagination, there might jist be fragments ae gospel in there worth checking oot oan the fly, tae see whit the lay ae the land is. Everywan knows fine well that there ur a lot ae nasty people oan the go. Fur instance, ye mentioned that Stalker prick. He’s yer classic example…and then there’s Wan-bob Broon…no the best ae people tae be oan yer mind at night, trying tae get some shut-eye before ye hiv tae get up fur yer work in the morning. Ah’m no convinced that youse ur oan the right track. Aye, this guy obviously said something tae The Stalker and yer mate picked up oan it. Bit a dying man’s babbles? Ye did say that the guy wis babbling, didn’t ye? Ah kin see why yer mate goat a fright, bit it’s jist too much ae a co-incidence, if ye’re asking ma opinion.”
“Dae ye think so?”
“Ah’ve said whit Ah’ve said.”
“So, whit dae we…me and Lizzie…dae noo?”
“Ah think ye need tae keep the lid oan this. Whitever happens, ye hiv tae persuade that pal ae yers tae haud her wheesht. If this gets oot, then there’s nae telling whit could happen. There’s a lot ae paranoia oot there,” he’d warned her, nodding through the glass windae towards the honking horns ae the traffic oan Great Western Road.
“So, will ye ask aboot? Try and see if there’s any connection between the deaths ae that farmer, doctor and poor nurse, Rose Bain then?”
“That wid be too risky,” he replied, shaking his heid.
“So, we’re oan oor ain then?”
“Ah never said that. Look, the chances ur that yer pal isnae even oan anywan’s radar. Ah don’t want this tae sound the way that it’s gonnae sound, bit if…and it’s a big if…there wis something in this, then as far as anywan wid be concerned, the nurse, yer flatmate, is well oot ae the picture noo. Why go and raise dust that’s awready settled? Think aboot it, Senga. If everything that the pair ae youse hiv been speculating aboot happened tae be true, then it wid be easy tae see how the lassie…the nurse that goat run o’er…the wan yer flatmate filled-in fur that night, could probably hiv still hid her name doon oan the original shift rota up at Stobhill. Noo, somewan wae a vivid imagination and a wee bit ae savvy could come tae the conclusion that this probably saved yer flatmate’s life. Leave it be…it’s a good thing, being lucky, so it is.”
“Lucky? Bit, if Rose Bain’s been murdered, surely we hiv an obligation tae report whit we know?”
“Ye mean whit ye imagine? Christ, there’s a big difference between fact and fiction, Senga. That’s aw okay in two-bit-dime novels, bit bringing up people’s names…dodgy, dangerous people…that widnae take too kindly tae being accused ae stuff, when they’d nothing tae dae wae anything, kin be a deadly pastime in a place like the toon. Christ, surely somewan like you should know that?”
“Oh, Ah don’t know,” she’d groaned, looking directly intae his eyes, wanting tae be reassured.
“Look, trust me. Ah know it’s probably hard tae believe, bit Ah dae know whit Ah’m talking aboot sometimes, ye know, despite whit some ae youse lassies might think,” he’d said smoothly, managing tae extract a wee smile oot ae her. “Whit you and that pal ae yers hiv come up wae, is aw speculation…like something oot ae some Raymond Chandler book…something that wid make a good read…something that’s been made up that widnae really happen in real life. Noo, if a face like mine’s went tae try tae find oot whit the score wis oan whether this fantasy actually happened, then sooner or later, certain people wid maybe want tae know why Ah’m sniffing aboot, even if there wis nothing in it. Why raise a puff, if there isnae a spark, eh?”
“So, whit ur ye saying that Lizzie and me should be daeing meantime? She’s in a helluva state…we baith ur.”
“Try no tae worry aboot something that isnae worth worrying aboot. As Ah’ve jist s
aid, it disnae sound tae me as if youse ur oan anywan’s radar. If ye wur, Ah’d hiv picked up oan it long before noo, believe you me, Senga. Tell yer pal that she’s tae get oot a bit mair,” Simon hid advised, grinning, clearly relaxing. “Look, if it makes ye feel any better, Ah’ll speak tae Tony. Ah’m heiding doon tae see him in Dumfries next Saturday. He’s still in touch wae whit’s happening in the toon. The only mileage in this, as far as we’re concerned, is the fact that we now know that The Stalker knows, fur certain, that Johnboy is innocent ae that bank job, and while he won’t dae a thing aboot it, that disnae apply tae us. That puts a whole different slant oan yer story. That information could be a lot mair dangerous tae you and yer pal than aw that other speculative guff she’s been dreaming up. The Stalker is a ruthless basturt and if he goat wind that you or yer flatmate knows whit he knows, then who knows whit he might dae? Christ, if you and yer pal ur tae be believed, then it could’ve been that arsehole who ran o’er the nurse. Hiv ye thought ae that?”
