The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4

by Todd, Ian

  “Being a knight for God is not like any other job. One has to show devotion and commitment, be humble in his practice and thought, and above all, challenge on behalf of those too weak to defend themselves. That, Mr Taylor, I can assure you, is not just another job. It is a calling, a vocation in life, and at the end of it, one will be duly rewarded in the kingdom of Heaven.”

  “And ye genuinely believe that, dae ye?”

  “Not only do I believe it, but I’ve dedicated my whole life to those beliefs. Without them, I would be but a lost soul.”

  “So, dis that mean that anywan who disnae believe in whit ye believe in, ur aw doomed?”

  “Some in the church would subscribe to that.”

  “That ma ae mine believes that the church, aw churches, wur set up as a tool ae those in authority tae suppress the poor people…tae keep everywan in their place. Is that kingdom ye mention the same as the kingdom here oan earth?”

  “I think I was referring to a heavenly kingdom.”

  “So, the minister who telt me and ma pals wan time that man wis made in God’s ain image, wis only talking aboot looks, stuff that wis skin deep then?”

  “I think you’ve misconstrued what was being said. God reaches into our very souls. He touches every living thing.”

  “So, why dis he need somewan like yersel and that Father Martin in a place like this then? Wae aw they divine powers, Ah wid’ve thought he wid’ve been able tae dae a better job than whit the two ae you hiv been able tae achieve, in a fraction ae the time.”

  “You obviously don’t believe in God, I take it.”

  “Ah never said that.”

  “Father Martin and I have been appointed to ensure the pastoral needs of the inmates…the young offenders…in Polmont are met.”

  “By divine intervention?”

  “By the state. It’s the law. Whether you’re a prisoner or not, everyone in this life is entitled to receive the word of our lord and saviour, Jesus Christ.”

  “Whether they want it or no?”

  “You sound as if you object to my missionary work here. Why?”

  “Ah’m no against yer missionary work. Ah dae hiv a problem wae the way ye go aboot it though.”

  “Oh? Such as?”

  “Like creeping aboot the place, disturbing people when they’re relaxing in their cells...offering pastoral advice tae people who’ve enough oan their plates, who wurnae asked whether they wanted tae hear it or no.”

  Ah, now we’re getting tae the heart ae it, The Reverend thought tae himsel.

  “Are you saying you wish me to leave you alone?”

  “Naw.”

  “Then, what are you saying?”

  “Whit Ah’m saying is that ye shouldnae be creeping aboot people’s cells withoot being invited in, the way ye dae oan the wings. If a boy decides he disnae want tae be wae anywan else and stays in his peter…that’s a cell tae you, by the way…insteid ae gaun tae recreation, dis that no tell ye that he wants tae be oan his lonesome?”

  “I confess, I have never thought of that. Is that why everyone calls me Creeping Jesus?”

  “So, ye know aboot that then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ach, well, Ah widnae take it personally. Ye should hear whit that Catholic crowd in here call Father Martin,” Taylor said, smiling fur the first time.

  “Any other advice you would like to share with me?”

  “Ur ye asking?”

  The Reverend wisnae sure whit he wis asking. In fact, he wisnae comfortable wae the way the conversation wis gaun. He looked at Taylor, who wis sitting wae his back tae the wall, hauns resting oan his knees. It wis hard tae read whit wis gaun oan in that heid ae his. Wis he playing wae him? How wid it look if he made an excuse and left?

  “How have you been coping being cooped up in here on your own, Taylor?”

  “Ma name’s Johnboy.”

  “Sorry, er...Johnboy.”

  “It’s jist another day in the jail as far as Ah’m concerned,” he replied, looking aboot the cell, before returning his gaze back tae The Reverend.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because whether Ah’m lying here or across in the wings, it’s aw the same tae me. Ah’m still in the jail, at the end ae the day.”

  “But what about recreation, mixing with your friends, having a game of cards or playing snooker?”

  “Did Ah no read somewhere that God said that aw men should leave material possessions behind as they widnae be able tae take them wae them when they go?”

  “Yes...or words to that effect.”

  “Then, why should Ah be bothered by no getting tae play a game ae snooker?”

  “So, you prefer to do your time, er, locked up like this?” The Reverend challenged, looking aboot and shuddering.

  “Is there any other way? Ur ye trying tae tell me the boys being let oot ae their cells fur a couple ae measly hours tae play, under threat ae the privilege being withdrawn, is gonnae make their time any easier than me daeing my time in here?”

  “I honestly can’t say.”

  “Aye, well, there ye go, Reverend.”

  “I’m sorry...Johnboy. I can’t see what the point is that you’re making,” he confessed, hunching they shoulders ae his up and spreading his hauns oot, palm upwards.

  “Ah wid’ve thought that somewan like you, who deals oan a daily basis wae people’s souls, wid know exactly whit Ah’m saying,” Taylor replied, matter ae factly.

  The Reverend’s heid wis reeling. He still wisnae sure whit Taylor wis saying. He’d obviously missed the point, but he wis reluctant tae ask fur clarification in case it wis so obvious...except tae him.

  “Stone walls dae no a prison make, nor iron bars a cage, minds innocent and quiet take, that fur a hermitage,” Taylor murmured.

  The Reverend jist aboot fell o’er, before bursting oot laughing in wonder. It hid been said quietly, bit firmly.

  “Lovelace! Richard Lovelace. Now, where in God’s name did that come from, Taylor...er, Johnboy? I’m absolutely astonished to hear that quoted in a place like this,” he said, shaking his heid in wonder.

  “Why? It’s aboot daeing time, isn’t it? Ah wid’ve thought that this is exactly the right place tae quote lines like that.”

  “I’m sorry…forgive me. I’ve heard a lot of things since I’ve been preaching here, but ‘To Althea, From Prison’ is certainly not one of them.”

  “Is that whit it’s called?”

  “Yes. You mean you didn’t know?”

  “When me and Silent goat sentenced tae borstal training, we hid tae wait in the Bar-L until there wis room fur us here. Ah goat placed oan report fur a bit ae cheek and wis sentenced tae seven days in the digger. The digger wis full up, so Ah wis put doon in tae the dungeons, under wan ae the main halls, tae a cell that seemingly hidnae been used in o’er a hunner and twenty years. They words wur scratched intae the damp cell wall that Ah wis cooped up in.”

  “Sir Richard Lovelace was a cavalier during the time of Charles I and the English Civil War. He was imprisoned and it was whilst he was in prison that he wrote those famous lines. He is saying that although he may be in prison, those who put him there will not stop him being able to dream and think freely. It’s a poem about freedom. Your quote was aptly put.”

  “And Althea? Wis that his bit ae stuff oan the side then?”

  “From what I can remember, history is not too sure who Althea was.”

  “Bit ye dae get ma point then?”

  “Yes. I can’t say that I fully appreciate it, but you’ve certainly put it succinctly. I think I understand.”

  “It’s good tae put a name tae the author. Efter they slung that arse ae mine doon intae that dungeon, it took me a couple ae days tae realise that it wis there, staring me in the face. Maist ae the auld, original plaster wis sitting in soggy piles oan the flair roond aboot the walls except fur this wan wee determined patch. Wance I clocked the faded writing, Ah studied it fur a full day before Ah could work oot whit the lett
ering wis saying and then it became as clear as a neon sign. Ah could probably quote it backwards noo,” he said, smiling. “They lines kept me gaun aw week, so they did.”

  “It obviously gave you strength,” The Reverend murmured.

  “Ah’ve goat a wee system fur daeing time doon here, so Ah hiv. Ah sleep during the day, wae ma erms and legs wrapped roond they hot pipes and ma jumper under ma heid fur a pillow. Then, when Ah get ma mattress in at night, Ah sit or lie oan it, aw comfy, putting ma world tae right...sort ae like being oan the nightshift. It works perfectly...at least it dis fur me. Time flies, and it means they basturts, the screws, cannae dae a thing aboot it. Ah’ve nae hassles doon here. It means Ah don’t hiv tae bite oan the barbed hook that they tempt us wae in a dump like this. They never get inside ma heid, so they don’t. As long as Ah’ve goat ma brain...and ma mattress, Ah get by jist the thing.”

  “That’s extraordinary. I honestly mean that. I have never heard anything like it before,” The Reverend replied, no too sure whit tae make ae whit he’d jist been telt.

  “Aye, well, ye learn something new everyday, eh?” the prisoner said, a wee smile appearing oan his face.

  “So, where am I going wrong then?”

  “Ur ye asking me fur advice?”

  “Put like that, I suppose I am.”

  “Well, ye can start by no delivering rulebooks tae guys in the digger oan behauf ae the screws. If the screws want tae dish oot rulebooks, let them dae it themsels. Why should somewan like you want tae dae their jobs fur them.”

  “Oh, I...”

  “And another thing...that chain ye’ve goat hinging doon fae yer trooser pocket? Whit’s that aw aboot?”

  “Oh, er, I’ve been issued with a set of keys to allow me access to the different parts of the institution. The chain is to ensure that the keys won’t disappear if I drop them. It’s a security precaution. The length of chain allows me to stretch across to unlock doors before putting the keys back into my trouser pocket.”

  “It dis, dis it?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Who else walks aboot wae a chain wae keys hinging aff the end ae it like yours?”

  “Oh, they are issued to my social work colleagues as well.”

  “And?”

  “The prison officers, of course.”

  “Well, tae me and everywan else in here, you and they social workers ur only wan step removed fae wearing a uniform, so youse ur.”

  “But we’re civilians. As I’ve just said, it allows us access to the inmates.”

  “If ye want tae be a screw, join up. Why kin the screws no open the doors fur ye? That’s whit they get paid fur. As far as maist ae the boys in here ur concerned, youse ur jist screws dressed up as civvies. In some quarters, that’s worse than being a screw. Nae wonder nowan wants tae talk tae somewan like yersel.”

  “Well, I...”

  “See when ye turn up at the dining hall door when everywan is getting their chow?”

  “Er, yes.”

  “Well, don’t staun there grinning, trying tae say hello tae anywan who happens tae gie ye a glance. Ye’re hated, jist as much as the screws ur. If Ah wis you, Ah’d grab a steel tray and get some grub and go and sit in amongst the boys. They won’t like it and nowan will talk tae ye…at least, nae tae start wae, bit it’ll show them that ye want tae be in amongst them rather than pitching yer standard up there wae the screws, hinging aboot at the start ae the food chain.”

  “I’m not sure that would be acceptable…to the prison staff.”

  “Furget the screws...they hate ye and aw they social worker pals ae yours mair than the borstal boys hate youse. They jist see youse as hopeless do-gooders that ur nae tae be trusted and ur pissing them aboot while they’re trying tae dae their job ae locking up scum like me.”

  “You make it all sound so simple.”

  “And another thing...stay away fae they cell doors at night when people ur trying tae read and collect their thoughts as tae whit they’re gonnae dae when they eventually get released.”

  “Do you believe that what you’ve just said, would make me…us…the pastoral team, more acceptable?”

  “Ah believe that it’ll show up some clear water between yersel and the screws in here and maybe, jist maybe, some boy in need might ask ye fur a haun wae a wee problem. Ye never know…stranger things hiv happened. Ah mean, somewan wance telt me that a guy walked oan water withoot sinking, so they did,” Taylor replied, smiling.

  “I’m not sure you appreciate my situation. I have a job to do in here. I can’t be seen to be flaunting the rules. I have to tread a path between responding to the needs of the inmates whilst at the same time, work with the staff who can at times, be hostile to my mission.”

  “Aye, well, ye asked me fur ma advice and Ah’ve gied ye it. Whit ye dae wae it is entirely yer ain business, so it is.”

  The Reverend couldnae remember getting fae the main reception back tae the manse. He knew he’d driven because his car wis parked in the driveway. Mrs Cameron, his hoose-keeper, hid asked him if he wis awright when he arrived as she helped him aff wae his hat and scarf. Efter convincing her that he wis, he’d dashed up tae his study and fallen oan his knees and prayed. He wisnae quite sure if he’d jist witnessed a sign fae God or whit. He felt different…lightheided and unsure ae whit might or might no hiv happened. He’d wanted tae challenge the boy, Taylor…tae tell him he wis speaking rubbish and that he didnae understaun the position that he, a lowly Church ae Scotland minister, wis in. How could he? He wis clearly a non-conformist prisoner, a convicted thief, who took satisfaction in flouting the rules and established practices that hid been instigated in the first place fur a purpose...bit deep doon, The Reverend knew he wis in denial. Taylor hid understood perfectly. He’d pointed oot the littered debris oan the road tae Damascus in front ae him and he, the Reverend Christopher Marion, wis noo at the crossroads ae his ministry. Should he walk away...run…or should he pick up the baton that hid been thrown oan the ground in front ae him and take a step forward? Did he hiv the strength and drive tae shove aside the barriers and march forward purposefully? Who wis this Johnboy Taylor? He picked up the telephone and dialled. The Bishop wid know whit he should dae.

  Chapter Forty Four

  Tony didnae look aboot as he pushed open the door that led intae the closemooth. It wis still light ootside, bit wan ae the flats oan the ground flair hid the light oan jist above the door. This telt Tony that aw the hooses up the red brick sandstone closemooth wur bought wans. Corporation close lights wur switched aff automatically by a timer. It meant that, unless people left their lights oan, ootside ae their doors, the landings wid be in darkness, which wis perfect. Harper hid jist aboot shat himsel, earlier in the day, when Tony hid telt him he wanted a wee gander at the inside ae Tam Simpson’s flat.

  “Fur Christ’s sake, Tony. We’ll be seen by everywan and his dug,” Harper hid wailed, panic written aw o’er that coupon ae his. “He might be there. Ah’ve only ever been up there oan a Friday. This is Monday. How dae ye know he won’t be lying there, pumping fuck oot ae that social worker slut?”

  “Harper, look, ye’re wae us and ye’re safe. Aw Ah need ye tae dae is tae dae as ye’re telt. We know whit we’re daeing, so we dae,” Tony hid said tae him as soothingly as he could, trying tae contain Harper’s panic.

  “Ah’m sorry, Tony…honest tae God, Ah…Ah cannae cope wae this, so Ah cannae.”

  “Harper, ye kin so. Simon will go up and knock oan the door first, tae make sure that there’s nowan in. Trust me...us. We’ll keep ye safe, so we will.”

  Tony placed his left fit oan the first step, looking aboot as he went. It wis a nice wee fancy closemooth. Fae the flag-staned flair up, it hid tiles, up tae a fancy green tiled border, at aboot shoulder height, which stretched aw the way up the stairs in front ae him. Simon hid gone up earlier and listened ootside Tam’s door. He’d slowly opened the letterbox and hid listened fur a full minute. Efter he’d come back tae the car, which wis parked further
up the hill oan Hillend Road, he’d lied tae Harper by telling him that he’d rattled oan the door fur a full two minutes and that nowan wis in. Efter Harper hid been threatened wae a sore face if he didnae get his arse in gear, Simon hid escorted Harper intae the close, tae make sure that he wis daeing whit he wis telt. Simon hid arrived back seconds later, tae report that there hid been nae screams and that Harper hidnae been nabbed by Tam Simpson while breaking intae his pad. Simon hid also mentioned that he’d heard a couple ae guys talking in the hoose opposite Tam’s, so they’d need tae watch oot fur the noise. Tony hid then sauntered towards the closemooth, wrapped up in a Crombie coat and tammy tae keep the wind and hail aff ae him, before disappearing intae the closemooth.

  When he reached the tap ae the stairs, he goat a bit ae a fright when Tam’s door suddenly swung open, bit it wis only Harper’s frightened face.

  “Right, Ah’m aff back tae the car, Tony,” he whispered frightfully.

  “Naw, ye’re no. Ah need ye tae gie me a haun here. It’ll only take a few minutes wae the two ae us. And keep the noise doon, there’s people in the hoose across the landing,” Tony whispered, stepping through the door, pushing Harper back intae the lobby.

  “Ah know, Ah heard them.”

  Tony stoapped and let his eyes get used tae the light coming through the bedroom windae at the front intae the lobby. He pushed open the door that opened oan tae the kitchen-come-sitting room. It wis aw tastefully decked oot.

  “Right, listen, Harper. Ah don’t want ye touching anything, and Ah mean anything. This place his tae look exactly the same as when Tam left it. Hiv ye goat that?”

  “Er, Aye, bit…Ah lifted this,” Harper confessed, haudin up a Rolex watch.

  “Right, ya bampot, put that back exactly where ye found it, and Ah mean exactly. It his tae be in the same position as ye found it. If Ah catch ye touching or lifting anything again, Ah’m gonnae let Snappy and Ben break yer fingers aff. Hiv ye goat that?”

  “Aye, sorry, Tony. Auld habits die hard.”