Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2

by Todd, Ian

  “Ye’ve goat five seconds, Ratty.”

  “The Big Man, Pat Molloy, said Ah should hiv a wee word wae ye. Hiv ye goat a minute?”

  She couldnae be arsed wae his games, so she’d turned oan her heel and continued tae walk up the hill tae her closemooth. She’d sworn tae hersel that if the wee rodent took wan step intae her close, she’d swing fur him.

  Helen wisnae sure if there wis some sort ae a conspiracy gaun oan or no. There hid been aw sorts ae rumours flying aboot regarding the supposed involvement ae the polis in the fire. She’d spoken aboot whit Pat Molloy hid telt her wae aw the lassies when they’d met up tae discuss the next warrant sale. Everywan hid agreed that The Big Man wis behind the rumours and that he wis up tae something. Bit, whit wis it? They jist wurnae able tae put a finger oan anything. The jungle drums hid swiftly come oot across the area, bit none ae the other wummin in the Toonheid believed the polis wur involved, even though Moira Lafferty and Big Roisin Murphy, hid baith spat on Liam Thompson’s face ootside the post office up oan Glebe Street when the story hid first surfaced.

  “Whit the fuck wis that fur?” Thompson hid howled, as wee Alma Collins and Babs Lenaghan stepped in between Moira and Roisin, allowing Thompson tae high-tail it back tae his squad car before things turned really nasty.

  Betty hid summed up whit everywan believed, hersel included.

  “As much as Ah try, and Ah’ve tried many a time, Ah still cannae identify any redeeming features belonging tae that big Liam Thompson wan, bit burning a wee boy in a dookit? Somehow, Ah don’t think so,” Betty hid said tae nods fae everywan.

  “Aye, bit ye know whit they say aboot shite sticking,” Sharon Campbell hid said.

  A week later, Helen hid been coming oot ae Curley’s up oan Parly Road efter getting her day-before-yesterday’s cutting loaves, when she’d come across Pat Molloy, hinging aboot and looking as shifty as his wee rodent pal.

  “Helen, ma wee prairie flower. Fancy bumping intae yersel…how ur ye daeing the day, hen?”

  “Pat, don’t bloody call me that. Ah jist heard the other day there, that a prairie flower is a bloody cactus, ya wanker, ye.”

  “It’s no, is it?” he’d exclaimed, putting oan his best choirboy look. “Ah never knew that, hen. Wait till Ah see that Frankie Macdonald. Ah goat the expression aff ae him, the bampot that he is. Ah’ve been using that as a chat-up line fur aboot two years noo. Aw the wummin seem tae love it.”

  “Anyway, whit ur ye efter? Ma man disnae owe ye money, dis he?”

  “Naw, naw, Ah wis jist passing by when Ah clocked that lovely face ae yers in amongst aw that cheese, lard, pats ae butter and sultanas and Ah thought Ah’d hing aboot tae say hellorerr. There’s nae crime in that, is there?”

  “Is that right? Here ye go then, ye kin help me carry ma shoapping,” she’d said tae him, loving seeing his jaw drap and everywan in Parly Road clocking him carrying two shoapping bags, full ae stale breid, fur the maw ae five kids.

  “Listen, c’mone and Ah’ll treat ye tae a wee cup ae tea in Fanny Black’s tearoom across the road there.”

  “Pat, Ah need tae get hame. We kin talk oan the way, though ye’re no getting invited in.”

  “Aw, Helen, c’mone, it’ll only take five minutes. Take the weight aff they plates ae meat ae yers.”

  “Right, ye’ve goat five minutes and then Ah’m offskie, and ye’re paying,” she’d telt him.

  Wee Lorna McKinnon hid arrived wae their tea, aw decked oot like something oot ae they auld black and white films, dressed in funeral black wae white lace roond her collar and cuffs.

  “Ah’ve never been in here. Ah never could afford a bob fur a cup ae tea and a tanner fur a teacake. Ah could feed ma weans fur four days oan that.”

  “Aye, Ah think they’re trying tae model it oan some fancy tea room that wis doon oan Ingram Street that wis made famous by some rich dandy years ago.”

  “That rich dandy wis born and bred up a close in number seventy Parson Street. He wis called Charles Rennie Mackintosh and it wis Miss Cranston’s tea rooms he designed.”

  “Is that right? Never heard ae him. Number seventy? That’s the same close as Shaun and his brothers. So, whit wis his scam then?”

  “He designed the layoot and aw the furniture, including the cutlery.”

  “Whit, jist so people could sit and get a taste ae how the other hauf live when they could get the same tea and buns in Gizzi’s fur a fraction ae the price?”

  “Aye, it wis ma Aunt Jeannie that telt me aboot him years ago, when Ah wis planning a school project aboot the Toonheid. She took me doon tae Ingram Street a few times as a treat and fur me tae get a feel fur the place. She bought me a lovely pair ae red sandals tae wear wae a flower print dress she’d bought me the summer before. That wis back in the thirties. Ah must’ve only been aboot nine or ten at the time. Ah’d used the visits as part ae ma research. Aunt Jeannie wis an auld commie, bit she hid good taste when it came tae tea and buns. It wisnae long efter that that she left fur Spain, if ma memory serves me right.”

  “Aye, Ah kin remember her oot and aboot in her nurse’s uniform, trying tae get people’s votes aff ae them,” The Big Man hid said.

  “When Ah mentioned that Rennie Mackintosh came fae Ronald Street tae ma teacher, she jist laughed at me and assured me that Ah’d goat the wrang guy, and that wis that.”

  “Well, if this is modelled oan his stuff, then he couldnae hiv goat very far. This bloody chair wae the high back is crippling me.”

  “So, whit ur ye efter, Pat?”

  “Oor wee furry pal says ye don’t want tae talk tae him,” he’d said, lowering his voice, as he looked aboot the tea room at aw the retired teachers and church ministers wae the big pensions.

  “Whit ur ye oan aboot?”

  “Helen, don’t play wae me. Ah know ye, remember? It’s me, Pat, that ye’re speaking tae here.”

  He’d held oan tae the erm ae her chair tae stoap her sliding it oot fae under the table and preventing her fae staunin up and walking oot.

  “Pat, ye thought ye knew me then, when ye treated me like a mug. Ye didnae know me then and ye still don’t know me, so don’t try and pretend. Tell me whit it is ye want, so Ah kin tell ye tae take a hike in front ae aw these nice people.”

  “Why the fuck dae ye hate me? Whit hiv Ah done, eh? Okay, Ah fucked up, bit that disnae make me a bad person, dis it?” he’d snarled under his breath.

  “Ah’m jist no gonnae answer that wan. Jist tell me whit ye’re up tae so Ah kin go aboot ma daily business.”

  “As Ah’ve jist said, ma wee pal says ye’re playing hard tae get.”

  “So whit? Who the hell dis he think he is, eh? Whit wid Ah want tae talk tae a sleazy wee rodent like him fur, eh? Pat, get a life, will ye?”

  “Ye know why…Ah telt ye.”

  “Pat, ye telt me cat’s pish.”

  “Ye might no gie a shite, bit Ah dae. Ah’m telling ye, they basturts wur involved in that fire. He wis yer son’s pal. It could’ve been Johnboy in that dookit wae the Kelly boy insteid ae Elvis, Tam The Bam’s dug.”

  “Naw, Pat, it couldnae, because he wis at hame in his bed. Ah don’t know whit the hell ye’re up tae, bit ye’re no using me or any ae the lassies in any ae this.”

  “Helen, wid ye jist listen tae yersel?” he’d whispered, looking aboot. “Aw Ah’m asking ye is tae hiv five minutes wae him. He needs ye tae corroborate some ae the stuff he’s managed tae come up wae. Withoot that corroboration, there’s isnae a story.”

  “Pat, he disnae hiv a story. Ah telt ye, Johnboy wis getting harassed and noo he isnae…end ae story. Hiv ye nae shame? That poor wee boy’s ma and da ur baith in hospital and ye’re gaun aboot stirring things up…making life even harder fur them tae come tae terms wae whit’s happened. Nowan believes that Liam Thompson wis involved in that fire and Ah don’t believe fur wan minute you dae either. Ye’re clearly up tae something, bit ye’re no gieing any ae us a using jist tae get yer ain back oan some shoddy deal that didnae work
oot between you and Liam Thompson. Where wur ye when we asked fur yer help in trying tae stoap aw they warrant sales?”

  “Helen, speak tae him. Please?”

  “Who else his he spoken tae aboot here?”

  “A few people, bit it’s the maws he wants access tae. They won’t gie him the time ae day. He thinks that if he speaks tae you, ye’ll get him access tae them,” he’d pleaded soothingly.

  “So, whit’s in it fur us then?”

  “How dae ye mean?”

  “Pat, Ah’m jist aboot tae heid oot ae that door in two seconds flat. Dae Ah hiv tae spell it oot?”

  “Naw, Ah’ll talk tae him.”

  “Aye, ye dae that. Noo, if ye don’t mind, Ah’ll be oan ma way up the road. Don’t get up, Ah’ll manage masel.”

  Helen heard him before he knocked oan the door. Betty hid arrived, last minute as usual, even though she jist lived next door, oan the same landing. Helen hid jist hid time tae push Betty hauf way up the stairs that led tae the lassies’ bedroom, tae staun at the wee windae that looked doon oan tae Helen’s kitchen-come-living-room, when he chapped oan the ootside door.

  “Remember, Betty, any shite and ye make sure ye’re doon here, like a shot.”

  “Don’t ye worry, Helen, hen. When these hauns ae mine grab a clump ae that wee ratty hair ae his, he’ll wish he wis born a cat,” she’d retorted, flexing her fingers before disappearing.

  Helen opened the door before aboot turning and casually strolling alang the lobby, intae her kitchen and back tae her seat. She made sure he sat wae his back tae the wee windae high up oan the wall. Fae where she wis sitting, she could see Betty peering doon.

  “Thanks fur seeing me, Helen,” Squeaky Voice squeaked, searching and finding his note pad and pencil in the pocket ae his crumpled raincoat.

  “Ye’ve goat five minutes. Whit dae ye want?”

  “Ah wis wanting tae go o’er some details wae ye aboot the polis harassing yer son and his wee pals,” he said, licking the end ae his pencil and writing the date at the tap ae the page, ready tae start jotting doon whit she wis gonnae inform him.

  “Who said ma son and his pals hiv been getting harassed?” she replied, as his pencil ground tae a sudden halt oan the blank page and he looked o’er at her wae a surprised look oan that coupon ae his.

  “Bit, er, Ah thought, er...”

  “Ah hivnae said that,” she interrupted.

  “Bit, Ah wis telt ye’re gonnae help me wae ma scoop.”

  “No by me, ye wurnae,” she retorted.

  “So why am Ah here then?” he squeaked, a confused look appearing across that face ae his.

  “Pat Molloy asked me nicely tae see ye, as wan friend tae another. Ah’ve seen ye and ye’ve seen me. Is there anything else Ah kin dae ye fur...Sammy?” she said, taking his wee card oot ae her apron pocket and slinging it across at him.

  They yellow eyes and teeth baith flashed at the same time. She wis jist aboot tae shout fur Betty, while at the same time, gie him a swift kick in they baws ae his, when he started tae shuffle his hauns in his raincoat pocket. He pulled oot a thick wedge ae pound and five pound notes and looked o’er at her. Helen held her breath.

  “So how much ur ye efter then?”

  “Fur whit?”

  “Yer story.”

  “How much hiv ye goat?”

  “Listen, Helen, let’s no fuck aboot and we’ll hiv less ae yer cackle, eh? Ah’ll pay ye ten pounds and ye kin tell me whit Ah want tae know.”

  Helen could feel the rage building up in her. She couldnae believe this wee scurrying sewer rat-face ae a man hid the cheek tae speak tae her like this in her ain hoose. She felt flushed wae anger and wis jist aboot tae go fur him when she spotted Betty at the windae above his heid. Betty wis furiously shaking her heid and mouthing ‘naw’ while at the same time, wagging her finger at Helen. Helen couldnae help bursting oot laughing. The effect wis dramatic. The Rat sat back oan the chair as if she’d slapped him across that hatchet face ae his. He sat scowling in bewilderment at her, blinking furiously, as though he’d jist crawled oot ae a drainpipe intae the sunlight.

  “If Ah jist telt ye that ye’d fucked right up. Whit wid ye say?”

  “Sorry?” he squeaked.

  “Hiv ye spoken tae the maws ae the other boys yet?” she asked, knowing fine well whit the answer wid be.

  “They won’t talk tae me efter yer recent performance doon at Central when ye goat aw the boys released withoot any charges. They said they’d only talk tae me if ye gied them the go-aheid.”

  “Right, ye’ve hid your say…noo it’s ma turn. Ah’ll talk tae ye and tell ye whit Ah’ve goat tae say. It’ll cost ye and there’s nae negotiating or ye kin piss aff right oot ae that front door,” she scowled, nodding tae the kitchen door that stood ajar. “And when ye agree and Ah tell ye ma side ae the story, that’s it. Ah don’t want ye harassing me or ma pals again.”

  “Sounds fair enough tae me. So, whit dae ye want?”

  “Ah want ye tae put thirty ae they crisp pound notes and fivers that ye’ve goat burning a hole in that haun ae yers oan tae ma kitchen table o’er there and an agreement that yersel and a photographer fae The Glesga Echo will turn up and report oor next warrant sale demonstration which is taking place at sixty eight John Street this coming Thursday at ten o’clock.”

  Silence.

  She could hear the clock oan the mantelpiece quietly ticking away. She didnae want tae look up and see whit Betty wis up tae, although she could detect her movement, oot ae focus, jist above that heid ae his. He looked stunned. She wisnae quite sure if he wis gonnae greet or bawl. His wee ratty face and eyes wur bouncing aw o’er the shoap as if somewan hid picked him up and gied him a wee shake. He fidgeted in his seat and then looked doon at the stash in his hauns. He made wan last stand.

  “Ye’ve goat tae be jesting me…surely?”

  “And ye’ve jist overstayed yer welcome,” Helen said, staunin up, wincing as she heard her knees crackle.

  “Wait a minute…Helen,” he squealed in panic. “Kin we no talk aboot this… please?”

  “Ur ye still here?” she growled at him. “Dae ye want tae walk oot ae that door oan yer ain two feet un-molested or tae take the fast way doon?” she asked him threateningly, nodding across tae the windae.

  “Right, okay…oan wan condition.”

  “Ah thought Ah telt ye there wis nae negotiating?”

  “As well as access tae the maws, the deal his tae include a face-tae-face wae the boys.”

  “Fur a start, this is between us. If Ah find oot that ye’ve approached ma ten year auld boy or any ae his pals, Ah’ll hiv ye arrested fur harassing a minor. Ah don’t think the boys up in the Bar-L wid take too kindly tae somewan charged fur molesting weans, dae you? And another thing, If Ah introduce ye tae the other wummin, the negotiations oan how much that costs ye starts aw o’er again. Take it or leave it, Speedy Gonzales.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Wan minute they’d been sitting looking doon at the canal in front ae the briquette plant, sooking the life oot ae their frozen Orange Jubblys and sharing a bottle ae Tizer that Joe hid nicked oot ae Sherbet’s, and the next, they wur heiding fur the copper sheets up oan the roof at the back ae the records building in Sighthill cemetery. They could see the building, away in the distance, fae where they’d been sitting up oan Jack’s Mountain.

  “Whit’s that building away o’er there between the new hooses?” Johnboy hid asked, peering between the scaffold-covered multi-storey buildings that wur gaun up in Sighthill in the distance.

  “Which wan?”

  “Er, the only wan that we kin see apart fae the new skyscrapers being built.”

  “Ah cannae see anything, kin you, Tony?”

  “Dae ye mean the wan wae the green roof, surrounded by gravestanes?”

  “Aye.”

  “That’s oor pocket money fur the next week. That’s the building we looked at efter tanning The Big Man’s loft and nicking aw his good doos. That’s the copper
sheets we spoke aboot tae Roger The Dodger yesterday.”

  Rodger The Dodger wis the scrap dealer who hid the wee scrap metal shoap oan the corner ae St James Road and McAslin Street. The Mankys thought he wis a right robber, whose scrap scales wur even dodgier than he wis. They’d jist stripped oot a ten feet length ae lead water pipe fae an ootside landing cludgie up in Ronald Street. The building hid looked empty, although Tony and Joe hid found oot later that there wur two hooses oan the tap flair that still hid people living in them. They’d only found oot because Tony hid heard his ma telling his da aboot the shame it wis, efter Mary Kennedy and her man hid spent the rest ae the day gaun back and forth tae their hoose wae pans ae water. Joe hid managed tae break wan end ae the pipe by bending it back and forward o’er the waste pipe attached tae the toilet bowl. When the water hid started pishing oot…a sure sign that the tenement wis still occupied…Johnboy hid been aw fur legging it, bit Tony and Joe wur hivving none ae that. Wan ae them hid put his haun o’er the burst tae stoap the water spraying aw o’er the place, while the other wan started gieing it big laldy. Wance the bottom end hid broken aff, it hid only taken aboot two minutes tae snap aff the tap part, using the ceiling as leverage where it disappeared through the hole.

  “Goat ye, ya basturt, ye!” Joe hid shouted, as he jumped aff the lavvy pan and oan tae the landing, dripping wae water, wae the big bit ae lead pipe in his hauns.

  A fountain ae gushing water hid shot up, bouncing aff the ceiling and pishing aw o’er the place…bit within two minutes, they’d been arguing wae Roger o’er they dodgy scales ae his.

  “Rodger, there’s at least twenty five pound ae lead there.”

  “Is there fuck, ya cheeky wee tinker. Ma scales say twelve and they never lie. Ah wid’ve guessed ten masel personally.”

  “So, how much is that then?”

  “Fourpence a pound, so that’s four bob.”

  “It wis a tanner yesterday, ya robber, ye.”

  “See, that’s why Ah’m the scrappy and youse ur the wans that jist hiv tae go oot and find the stuff. Ah’m the wan that takes aw the risks aboot here. Wan day Ah gie ye a good price and the next, the prices shoot through the flair and Ah’m left haudin that big tadger ae mine wae naewhere tae put it. Take it or leave it…whit’s it tae be?”