by Todd, Ian
“Is that whit that is? Ah usually know when trouble’s brewing when that ma ae mine sends me alang tae the draper’s shoap oan Cathedral Street tae buy four single wans and then intae the paper shoap fur two single tipped fags. Ye don’t think they’re tae dae wae smoking, dae ye?”
“Ah widnae think so. Ah cannae remember hearing any stories aboot guys who smoke wearing them, apart fae when they’re getting a boil oan the back ae their neck lanced,” Joe said, tentatively dabbing the back ae his neck wae they manky fingers ae his at the memory.
“That ma ae mine and ma sisters turn intae maniacs aw at the same time, noo that Ah think aboot it. They’re like wummin possessed, so they ur.”
“Aye, ‘the time ae the month’ they call it. Ma ma always commandeers a folded up tea towel or wan ae ma da’s string vests when she’s skint and cannae afford tae buy any, so ye never get a warning ae whit’s coming yer way.”
“Ah’ve only the wan sister and Ah cannae remember her or Ma mentioning them. Mind you, she’s so possessed, ye’d think it wis her time ae the month every day ae the week,” Joe said as the other two laughed.
The legs oan the pavement hid started tae thin oot wae everywan getting oan tae their buses hame. They waited till the lassies in the shoap came oot and pulled doon the mesh grill. Efter heiding up tae Gordon Street, they cut alang by the front ae Central Station. They couldnae believe their luck. A big BRS lorry wae a full load oan the back hid jist passed them, heiding up Hope Street.
“Let’s go,” Tony shouted, nipping in and oot ae the taxis in front ae The Central Hotel tae catch up wae it. There wis four feet ae space between the load and the back bumper. Wance they wur aboard, they settled doon tae watch the taxis and buses coming at their backs. At the tap ae Hope Street, their lorry turned right intae Sauchiehall Street and carried oan up intae Parly Road. They could smell the fish and chips wafting oot ae the San Remo chip shoap oan the way past. As they passed by Dundas Street Bus Station, Joe pointed tae the wee man staunin oan the corner selling The Evening Times and Citizen.
“Check the board in front ae him,” he shouted.
Leaning against the front ae the wooden orange boxes that he used tae stack his papers oan, The Evening Citizen heidline screamed ‘BIRD BOY DIES IN FIRE.’
“Dae ye think they’re talking aboot Skull?” Johnboy shouted.
“Aye,” wan ae the others said.
It wis the first time Skull’s name hid been mentioned since their run in wae the Murphy brothers earlier. They jumped aff the lorry, jist before it turned left intae Dobbies Loan, then cut through a closemooth tae take them intae McAslin Street. They sat in the closemooth beside Sherbet’s, the local grocers shoap. Nowan spoke.
“Whit ur we gonnae dae noo?” Johnboy finally asked.
“Aboot whit?”
“Aboot Skull and Elvis…it wid’ve been Elvis that wis wae him.”
Silence.
“There’s fuck aw we kin dae…at least fur the time being. It’s obvious they Murphy basturts did it, even though they’re denying it,” Tony finally answered.
“Even if we knew it wis them, there’s still fuck aw we kin dae,” Joe agreed.
Silence.
“Let’s wait until we’re aulder. We’ll get the basturts then,” Tony said grimly, flicking his fag end at the wheels ae a passing coal lorry.
“Is that a promise?” Johnboy asked, looking at the baith ae them.
“Don’t ye bloody worry aboot that, Johnboy. Ah’m gonnae make sure whoever done this goes up in flames, the same way as Skull and Elvis did,” Joe promised.
“Aye, bit jist remember, we keep oor traps shut. We keep this tae oorsels and we don’t mention any ae this tae anywan…especially no tae the bizzies,” Tony warned the other two.
Tony and Joe heided up McAslin Street and Johnboy heided fur Grafton Street and the way hame. Johnboy kept looking back every noo and again tae see how far the other two hid goat. Jist before he disappeared roond the corner at the dairy, he clocked two polis cars suddenly mounting the pavement and nabbing Tony and Joe. Johnboy nipped in through his auld pal, Frankie Wilson’s close, heided o’er the dykes, came oot oan tae Montrose Street through the side ae the transport lodging hoose at the tap ae the hill and dashed fur hame.
Chapter Ten
It hid been a strange few weeks aw roond, Helen thought tae hersel, as she lit up a fag. She wondered if she could be arsed wae hivving another glass ae her PLJ lime juice while she wis waiting. The stuff didnae bloody work anyway…that expanding arse ae hers could testify tae that. She looked aboot the kitchen and back tae the stack ae overdue bills that wur sitting oan her lap. The girls wur growing up so fast. She sighed. A few days earlier, her and Isabelle’d hid a major run-in efter Isabelle hid went tae the door tae tell wan ae the debt collectors that her ma wisnae in and that she didnae know when she’d be back. Efter he’d gone, Helen hid tiptoed oot intae the lobby tae ask her whit company he’d been fae.
“Hiv ye any idea how humiliating this is fur us?”
“Whit is?”
“That’s the fourth time this week. It wis the same man that wis up at the door twice oan Monday. He says if he disnae get a payment soon, the company’s taking it doon tae the Sheriff officers.”
“Ach, don’t exaggerate, Isabelle. They always threaten ye wae that. And anyway, it wisnae that long ago you and that Anne wan wur fighting o’er who wis gonnae hiv the pleasure ae opening the door tae tell them tae piss aff. Whit’s changed aw ae a sudden?”
“Ye jist don’t get it, dae ye?”
“Get whit?”
“Arghhhh!” Isabelle hid screeched before stomping past Helen up tae her bedroom.
Wid they ever get oot ae the bit? Wis everywan living in the street in the same boat as them or wur Jimmy and her jist different? When she’d went ben the hoose, next door tae Betty’s, she’d telt Betty aboot her run-in wae Isabelle.
“And you think that’s bad? Christ, ye should hear the cheek Ah hiv tae put up wae in here,” Betty hid retorted wae a laugh.
Helen thought aboot the conversation she’d hid a while back wae Johnboy when she’d confessed that she prayed fur him and the rest ae the family every night before she fell asleep. When he’d asked her who she prayed tae, she couldnae come up wae an answer. She couldnae help smiling thinking aboot whit he’d come back wae.
“Bit Ah thought ye telt us that God wis jist a story made up by rich kings and queens tae keep the smellys like us doon?”
Coming fae somewan else, it could’ve been construed as a lippy answer, bit fae Johnboy, he’d jist repeated whit she’d always uttered when religion came up in conversations wae the weans when they wur growing up. She supposed it hid proved wan thing though. Here she wis, always believing that he never took in anything she ever said, and there he wis, hitting her wae that wee gem.
She looked at the clock oan the mantelpiece. Hauf an hour tae go. She wisnae too sure where she wis at wae aw this though. She’d tossed and turned aw last night. She’d felt like gieing Jimmy a thump oan the side ae that heid ae his efter he’d swung roond, away fae her again, letting oot an exaggerated ‘harrumph’ because ae aw the fidgeting aboot in the bed she wis daeing, lying there beside him.
“Fur Christ’s sake, Helen, kin ye no lie at peace?”
She hidnae responded because he hid a five o’clock start as he wis driving doon tae England wae a load. He wis a good man, bit he didnae know the hauf ae it, or did he? He jist goat oan wae life while it seemed tae her that she’d tae deal wae aw the shite. Is that whit they wur meant tae dae? Him tae go oot tae work and her tae keep the dampeners oan things at her end so that when he did appear, everything wid be hunky-dory? Thank Christ they didnae gie ye a test oan whether ye’d succeeded or no, she thought tae herself, sitting there, soaking up the silence. She wisnae too sure if she should be excited wae whit she wis aboot tae dae, or petrified. Betty, next door, hid warned her tae keep her heid doon and oot ae sight as she’d only be getting a using and, at the end
ae the day, if there wis any crap flying aboot, it wid land oan her.
“Ah’d stay well clear, Helen. Aye, and when the shite flies and lands oan ye, it bloody leaves a smell that ye cannae get rid ae fur a long time,” Betty hid advised.
Betty wis pretty sound. She didnae muck aboot wae words. She always jist came oot and said whit she felt and didnae gie a monkey’s whether people agreed wae her or no. Bit wis she right this time? Hivving said that, when wis the last time Betty wis right aboot anything? Betty wis a battler and tough as nails, bit as a thinker and a planner? Helen acknowledged that whit Betty hid said made sense, bit could she afford tae ignore whit wis happening and end up sitting aboot wondering whit tae dae next, when an opportunity hid awready danced across the flair in front ae her and she’d ignored it? Betty and the other lassies jist saw battling wae The Corporation and the sheriff officers as part and parcel ae being in a Corporation hoose and always goat tore right in. The problem, as Helen saw it, wis that anytime she said the aim wis tae try and get things tae change and stoap the warrant sales fur good, everywan jist laughed.
“Battling wae they frigging pigs is wan thing, Helen, bit trying tae stoap sales and evictions fur good? Well, Ah widnae haud yer breath jist yet,” Soiled Sally hid said at their last get-thegither, tae nods and laughter.
She couldnae talk tae Jimmy aboot it either. He thought she wis daft enough as it wis, withoot talking aboot increasing the demonstrations against The Corporation and they sheriff officers ae theirs.
“Fur Christ’s sake, Helen, any chance ae something tae eat when Ah come in fae ma work, insteid ae me hivving tae send the kids oot tae find ye up some close, shouting and bawling aboot stuff that’s goat fuck aw tae dae wae ye in the first place?”
“It’ll be us next.”
“Aye, and Betty, next door, the morra. Whit’s that goat tae dae wae us aw sitting here starving, waiting fur ye tae make an appearance?”
“Aw, piss aff, Jimmy. Don’t go there.”
“Naw, Helen, that’s ma line.”
If he’d come up every noo and again wae a constructive point, it widnae be so bad. Oot ae the last ten sales, o’er the past month tae six weeks, they’d stoapped three before the sale started and two wur stoapped hauf way through due tae the money being paid aff doon at the Sheriff Officers’ office in Bath Street. Five hid been completed. She made that a score ae five-all, bit the lassies argued that it hid been five-three tae The Corporation, because ae the two that goat paid aff early.
“Aye, bit they scrawny skinny basturts hid tae leave the sale haufway through wae their tails tucked between their legs, so as far as Ah’m concerned, they coont as two tae us, which in ma books make five,” she’d argued.
How far forward hid they managed tae get o’er the past fifteen years or so? That hid been the question that hid been taking up a lot ae her thinking time o’er the past wee while. If she could come up wae a positive answer tae that, it wid maybe gie them aw a second wind. Despite always looking oot fur an opportunity tae score a success, the odds hid always been stacked up against them. She’d always wondered whit her Aunt Jeannie wid’ve done or advised her tae dae next. Aunt Jeannie wis always a strategist, even though Helen wis too young tae understaun it at the time. Despite searching, there never seemed tae be a plan B, bit this time, she wis sure that there wis something staring her in the face, bit she jist couldnae see whit the hell it wis. She’d gone o’er it a thousand times and kept coming up wae five different conclusions or none at aw. Whit kind ae an opportunity did they hiv noo? Could they take advantage and really push the boat oot? She wisnae sure, bit they’d see soon enough. She looked up at the clock. There wis only twenty minutes tae go.
It hid aw started oan the Monday efter Pat Molloy’s ma and da’s fortieth anniversary bash at The McAslin Bar. The two things everywan hid been talking aboot in the Toonheid that Monday, wis the party and the fire. Helen hid nipped up tae Fat Fingered Finklebaum’s pawnshoap wae Jimmy’s shoes. Usually Johnboy did that before heiding aff tae school, bit Finklebaum, the money-grabbing shitehoose that he wis, hid been putting the squeeze oan her by refusing tae gie Johnboy three bob fur the shoes. Helen hid thought she’d awready goat it sorted oot the previous week, bit the bugger hid made a remark tae her at the bash when he wis pished, so she thought she’d go and sort him oot, which she did. When she’d come oot ae the pawnshoap, she’d bumped in tae Pat Molloy.
“Helen, ma wee prairie flower, how’s it gaun, hen?”
“Aye, no bad, Pat,” she’d said, annoyed at hersel because she wis conscious that she’d inadvertently tucked a straggly tuft ae hair in tae her scarf when he spoke tae her.
“His that man ae yers sobered up yet?”
“He wis up and oot ae that door this morning at the crack ae dawn, starting an honest day’s labour. So, whit aboot yersel then, Pat? Whit time wur you up at?” she’d replied sarcastically.
“Ach, ye know me. Maist ae ma work goes oan in the evenings. It disnae go wae early risings.”
“So, nothing’s changed then? Still disappearing oot tae aw hours ae the morning?” she’d retorted, wanting tae bite her tongue aff.
“Ach, well, we’ll no go there, will we? There’s nothing tae be gained fae supping sour milk fae the past, eh?”
“Aye, Ah suppose so.”
“So, whit’s happening wae you then?”
“Ah’ve jist been in tae see that pal ae yers, Fat Fingered. He dis ma nut in, that wan, so he dis.”
“He’s no putting pressure oan ye, is he?” he’d asked, eyes narrowing.
“Pat, whit goes oan between me and ma pawnbroker is between us. Customer privilege, Ah think it’s called,” she’d replied, pleasantly enough.
In other words, ‘mind yer ain business and stay the fuck oot ae mine.’ Thankfully, he’d taken the hint pretty pronto though, as he’d swiftly changed the subject.
“Ah keep seeing that boy ae yers running aboot wae his ragged-arsed pals.”
“Oh, aye?”
“Naw, naw, there’s nothing wrang. He seems a fine wee wan…always goat a grin oan that coupon ae his.”
“Ah’m a bit worried aboot him wae that big glaikit sergeant, though.”
“Whit wan?”
“Thompson and that cross-eyed monkey, Crisscross.”
“Oh, aye, Ah know Liam Thompson. A right dirty basturt, so he is. Ah’ve hid a few nasty run-ins wae that prick recently,” he’d said, face flushing.
“That bad?”
“Aye, worse than anything ye could imagine. Ah don’t want tae even think aboot it, Ah’m so bloody upset,” The Big Man, local heid bummer in the gangster underworld, hid said, wiping wan ae his eyes wae a fat ring-covered finger and coughing tae hide his distress.
“Pat, let me get this straight. Ye’re supposed tae be the local Big Man…scared ae no man’s shadow…and here ye ur, telling me ye don’t want tae talk aboot it because ye’re so upset?” she’d asked, trying nae tae sound cynical.
“Aye, well, whit they basturts done tae me, Ah don’t think Ah’ll ever get o’er.”
“Aye, well, Ah’m sure wance ye take it oot oan some poor soul’s knee caps, ye’ll feel better wae yersel. Whit Ah want tae know is how concerned should Ah be?” Helen hid asked him, feeling the panic rising in her chest.
“Look, we cannae speak oot here oan the street. Come in tae the bar and we’ll hiv a chat o’er a wee cup ae tea.”
“Oh, Ah don’t know. Ah’ve a lot tae be getting oan wae,” she’d replied, looking aboot tae see if anywan wis watching.
“C’mone, it’ll only take five minutes oot ae yer busy schedule. Ah won’t charge ye fur the coconut snow-baw Ah’ve goat left o’er fae the bash oan Saturday night.”
When they’d sat doon at wan ae the tables in the bar, she’d telt him whit hid been gaun oan aw through the summer wae Sergeant Mutt and PC Jeff, harassing her boy and his pals. She’d been a wee bit surprised that he wis able tae fill in some ae the gaps that she hidnae been aware ae. He’d telt he
r that he’d clocked the boys getting chased quite a few times by the Keystone Kops. Then he’d hit her aboot the fire.
“Hiv ye heard whit happened last night?” he’d asked her.
“Whit?”
“We passed oan oor auld cabin dookit at the tap end ae Parly Road tae that boy ae yers and his pals. Shaun Murphy and his brothers run a loft fur me, or they did, above their tap flair hoose up in Ronald Street. Good wee earner, exporting purebred doos. We decided wan set-up wis enough though. We knew the boys wur aw intae their doos, so rather than demolish the cabin, we decided tae gie it tae them.”
“Aw Pat, that wis nice ae youse. Johnboy his been oan aboot it fur the last week, so he his. Ah wis starting tae get worried aboot him, bit this his kept him oot ae trouble and away fae they shite-hooses in uniform.”
“Aye, well, maybe no.”
“How dae ye mean?”
“Some basturt burned the cabin doon last night. It might’ve been tae get tae us because we only haunded it o’er tae the boys this weekend past, so people widnae be aware that we hivnae anything tae dae wae it noo.”
“Aw, naw, that’s terrible. The boys’ will be sick at that.”
“Aye, well, Ah think it might be mair serious than that.”
“Why?”
“Ah’ve jist been talking tae Shaun and they brothers ae his and they’ve telt me that wan ae the firemen oan the scene his said that there wis a body ae a youngster in amongst the charred remains. Tam The Bam’s dug, Elvis, wis also in amongst the ashes.”
She hid felt as if somebody hid kicked her in the chest. She’d hardly been able tae catch her breath, bit hid managed tae get a question oot.
“Whit? Wan ae ma Johnboy’s pals?”
“It looks that way.”
“Dear God, Pat, ur ye sure? Ah mean, it cannae be Johnboy…he wis up and oot the door, back tae school efter the summer break this morning.”
“The fireman said it could’ve been caused by a candle or a match catching fire oan something.”
