by Todd, Ian
“When yer aunties Anne and Norma arrive, hen.”
It wis good tae hear the sound ae weans running aboot the hoose oan Christmas day, Helen thought tae hersel as Malcolm arrived wae Anne and her man, Tommy, followed closely by Norma.
“Right, before we start...Merry Christmas tae youse aw and thanks fur coming,” Helen said, raising her Babycham.
“Merry Christmas,” everywan shouted.
“Right, Morag and Ian, ma wee Christmas elves. Ur youse gonnae help yer granny tae haun o’er Santa’s presents tae everywan?” Helen asked the weans.
“Yippee!” Wee Ian shouted, running across towards the Christmas tree, tripping oan the rug and landing, heid first, in amongst the presents, toppling o’er the tree and fusing aw the lights in the hoose.
Chapter Nineteen
“Bumper, that’s the best batter Ah’ve tasted in a long time, so it is,” The Stalker announced, shifting the hot Ye Auld Oak Ham fae wan side ae his mooth tae the other wae that tongue ae his, at the same time as sooking in air, trying tae cool it doon.
“Who says us men cannae cope withoot wummin, eh?” Bumper agreed, dolloping a big spoonful ae Smash totties oan tae his battered ham, before shoving it intae his gub.
“Too true.”
“So, where did the ham come fae then? It’s bloody quality, so it is,” Bumper asked.
“Biscuit grabbed a few tins fae the pavement ootside the Co-op, oan Springburn Road, yesterday morning.”
“How’s yer jaw?”
“Ah finally managed tae get the bleeding tae stoap last night, so Ah did.”
“So, whit ur ye daeing wae the bar towel then?”
“Ah’ll get it washed and gie it back tae her.”
“If it hid been me, Ah widnae hiv took it aff ae her. It’ll cost ye dear, that will.”
“Aye, well, it’s awright fur you tae say that, bit ye wurnae there. The blood wis pishing oot ae that mooth ae mine like a burst hose pipe. Ah hivnae any problem wae accepting the towel, bit she wullnae get any favours oot ae me.”
“In the name ae the wee man! Did ye see that? There’s nae way ye’d get me sticking ma heid intae a lion’s mooth, no matter how much ye paid me,” Bumper exclaimed, eyes glued tae the telly.
“Is this coming fae across in The Kelvin Hall?” The Stalker asked him.
“Billy Smart’s Circus? Nah, he’s too famous tae be playing in a dump like Glesga.
Chapter Twenty
“Noo remember, Ian, ye’ve nae tae cross the black insulating tape line that granda his stuck oan the carpet. Hiv ye goat that?” Isabelle warned him.
“Aye, Ma,” he replied, touching the tape wae his toe and gieing her a cheeky smile.
“Right, here ye go, darling. Haun that across tae yer granda,” Helen said tae him.
“Aw, thanks, Helen. Ah love Brut, so Ah dae,” Jimmy said, chuffed wae his deodorant.
“Aye, Brut fur a brute,” Norma chuckled.
“Right, Da, never mind yer Brut...whit did ye get Ma?” Anne asked him.
“Haud yer horses. Yer ma will get hers in good enough time.”
“Aw, shut yer geggy and get oan wae it, Da. It’s this Christmas she wants it, no Halloween.”
“See, that’s why Ah’m right glad that aw ae youse hiv left hame. Ah kin come hame tae ma ain hoose withoot any fear ae being verbally abused and humiliated…maist ae the time,” Jimmy said, staunin up and heiding fur Johnboy’s bedroom.
“Ach, get oan wae it,” Norma said tae laughter.
Helen wis right glad that everything hid gone back tae normal and the lights oan the Christmas tree wur blinking away again, since Jimmy changed the fuse wire. Poor wee Ian hid jist aboot peed himsel when everywan shouted at him efter he'd been dragged oot fae under the toppled tree.
“Right, shut yer eyes, Helen. Here it comes, ready or no,” Jimmy shouted fae the lobby in excitement.
“Ooh, Ma, it’s something big,” Norma said, as Jimmy entered the room.
“Right, open yer eyes, hen,” Jimmy said, putting the square box, wrapped in Christmas paper, doon in front ae her. “Aye, and there’s mair fae where that came fae,” Jimmy said, bragging tae everywan, puffing oot his chest.
“Oh, Jimmy, ye shouldnae hiv. Ah hope ye hivnae spent too much oan me,” Helen protested, aw chuffed, as Morag and Ian came and joined her.
“C’mone, Ma, let’s see whit a wummin who’s goat everything gets fae her man,” Anne cackled, as Helen and the weans ripped the paper aff ae her parcel.
“Oh, Jimmy, it’s pure dead brilliant, so it is,” Helen beamed, leaning across and gieing him a kiss.
“A fire? A two-bar electric fire? Is he joking or whit?” Isabelle asked incredulously.
“Whit is it, Granny?” Wee Ian asked.
“Oh Jimmy, Ah love it and there’s a wee shiny silver haundle oan it as well. It means Ah kin carry it aboot fae room tae room, so it dis.”
“A fire? Whit kind ae a man gets his wife a fire fur her Christmas? That’s whit Ah want tae know,” Anne asked.
“Hoi, ye widnae be saying that if ye hid tae get up in this place in the morning. Yer ma his been complaining fur months aboot the cauld in here at the crack ae dawn, so she his,” Jimmy pouted defensively.
“Jimmy, don’t listen tae them. It’s lovely and Ah love it,” Helen said, running her fingers alang the shiny red lacquered paint.
“Christ, Ah’m scared tae ask whit else he’s goat her,” Isabelle shouted, laughing.
“Ah think it’s lovely, Helen, and as Jimmy said, ye’ll be able tae take it intae the kitchen in the morning wae ye,” Tommy, Anne’s boyfriend, said kindly.
“Right, ya basturts, Ah don’t want any ae yer catty comments aboot this,” Jimmy warned them, triumphantly, haudin o’er Helen’s other present which he’d returned wae, efter nipping back through tae Johnboy’s bedroom.
“That better no be whit Ah think it is,” Norma warned, as Helen unwrapped a big oblong parcel.
“It is!” the three lassies screamed in horror.
“Don’t listen tae them, Jimmy. There’re jist trying tae wind ye up,” Helen retorted in his defence, admiring her new ironing board.
“Is that a snow sledge, Granny?” Morag asked her, as Ian ran his haun up the side ae it.
“If ye ever gie me wan ae them, ye’ll find aw yer shitey pants scattered aboot the street when ye come hame fae yer work, so ye will,” Isabelle warned Malcolm.
“Aye, Ah’ll gie ye yer dues there, Jimmy. Ye certainly know how tae wind up the wummin, so ye dae. So, where’s the real presents then?” Tommy asked tae howls ae laughter.
“Ah’m sick ae hivving tae go through and use a blanket oan tap ae the dressing table as an ironing board, so Ah am,” Helen said, in Jimmy’s defence…again.
“Aye, ye kin staun in the middle ae the living room in yer nice pink slippers that Isabelle and Tommy goat ye, ironing that pair ae bri-nylon shirts ye goat fur ma da, aw nice and warm in front ae yer new two-bar electric fire, so ye kin,” Norma chipped in sarcastically.
“There’s nae point in gieing somewan a present that they don’t want. Is that no right, Helen, hen?” Jimmy asked.
“Ignore them, Jimmy. Ah’m jist feeling guilty noo that aw Ah goat ye wis a couple ae shirts and some Brut,” Helen said, looking across at him adoringly.
“Christ, hiv ye never heard ae Wummin’s Lib, Ma? It’s been aroond since the mid-sixties, so it his,” Anne reminded her, tae nods fae the lassies.
“Is that yer letterbox being rattled?” Isabelle asked, as everywan looked across tae the living room door.
“Ah’ll get it, Ma,” Norma, who’d been sitting nearest tae the living room door said.
“Mary, how ur ye daeing, hen? Wis Santa good tae ye?” Helen asked Wee Mary, when she appeared intae the living room.
“Hello, Helen...aye, Ah goat a giant dolly, bit wan ae its eyes fell oot, so it did. Helen, ma maw said Ah wis tae say sorry fur disturbing ye, bit she wondered if there wis any chance ae getting a sho
t ae yer oven tae cook her good chicken in.”
“Why, whit’s wrang wae her ain wan, hen?”
“The gas is oan the blink. There’s a van wae men digging up the street because ae a gas leak, so there is.”
“Aw, is that no terrible, especially oan Christmas Day tae?” Anne cried oot, as everywan except Jimmy nodded.
“Whit time wis that ma ae yers planning tae eat at, Mary?” Helen asked her.
“Ah don’t know, bit Ah dae know that she wis wanting tae sit doon and watch The Black and White Minstrels efter we scoffed it.”
“And whit aboot yer da, hen? Is he up and aboot?”
“Ah don’t think so. Ah hivnae clocked him the day. Ah think he’s still in his kip, no well.”
“Right, well, you jist go back roond there and tell that maw ae yours tae get back roond here. Tell her tae bring that chicken wae her. Youse kin hiv yer Christmas dinner wae us, so youse kin. Isn’t that right, girls?” Helen announced, turning tae the lassies.
“Too true.”
“Of course it is, hen,” Anne said tae Wee Mary, smiling.
“And if that da ae yers is up oan the go, tell him tae come as well, hen,” Helen said.
“Ooh, right, Helen, ta,” Wee Mary said, wae a big smile oan her face, before disappearing oot the door.
“Did ye know aboot this?” Jimmy demanded.
“Know aboot whit?”
“That Issie wis coming roond fur her Christmas dinner?”
“Ah might be good, bit no that good. Causing gas pipes tae leak in the middle ae the street isnae wan ae ma many special talents, and anyway, whit’s yer problem?”
“Ye know fine well whit ma problem is. We’ve awready spoken aboot it, so we hiv,” Jimmy retorted indignantly.
“Aw, Da, shut yer arse. Ah hivnae seen Issie fur a while, especially since poor Joe goat stabbed,” Norma admonished him.
“Oh, well, don’t mind me. Ah only live here and pay the bills, so Ah dae,” Jimmy said in disgust.
“Ach, never mind, Scrooge. Here, hiv a can,” Tommy said, throwing Jimmy o’er a can ae Tennents lager.
“That’s the door, Ma. Will somewan answer it?” Norma shouted fae through in the kitchen.
“It’ll be Issie and Wee Mary. Ah’ll get it,” Anne said.
“Jesus Christ, it’s Betty. She’s early, so she is,” Helen said tae Jimmy oan hearing Betty’s voice.
“Oh, Helen, Ah’m sorry tae bother ye, hen, bit oor gas is oan the blink, so it is. Oh, hello, Jimmy, and Merry Christmas tae yersel.”
“Aye, it wis, hen.”
“Anyway, Helen, is there any chance ae getting a wee shot ae yer oven fur that chicken ae mine when ye’ve finished using yer ain wan, hen?”
“Look, Wee Mary his been roond telling us whit the score is. Whit ur ye gonnae dae aboot yer totties, sprouts and mashed tumshie tae go wae it?”
“Ach, we’re no really bothered aboot that, bit it widnae be Christmas withoot a wee bit ae Bisto and roast chicken, so it widnae,” Betty replied.
“Look, Betty, go and get Stan and aw yer vegetables. We’ll get everything cooked roond here. We’ll probably aw be eating at midnight, bit at least we’ll hiv a good time, eh?” Helen said.
“Ach, Helen, ur ye sure? Stan spoke tae wan ae the boys that ur digging up the road and he said he didnae know if the gas wid be back oan the day, so he didnae.”
“Hoi, wheesht. Yersel and Stan ur mair than welcome tae be here, aren’t they, Jimmy?”
“Oh, aye, the mair the merrier, that’s whit Ah say,” Jimmy said drily, as Tommy laughed and slung him across another can ae Tennents.
Chapter Twenty One
“What’s wrong, darling. Is there something wrong with the food?” Susan Flaw asked her husband.
“What? Oh no, the turkey is lovely, darling.”
“I’m sure you’re allowed to take an hour off on Christmas day, Daddy,” Eleanor Flaw said, passing the Brussels sprouts across tae her brother, Dan.
“So, what’s bothering you then? And don’t say nothing. I’ve been married to you long enough to know when something’s going on in that head of yours,” Susan chided him.
He looked at his family. The love he felt fur them wis so powerful, that he felt his chest tighten.
“I’ve met this woman...” he began, causing Dan and Eleanor tae whistle and hoot.
“Do tell us more, Daddy, but keep it clean, eh?” Eleanor said, smiling.
“Hush, you two. Go on, darling…you were saying?” Susan encouraged him.
“As I was about to say, I’ve met the most amazing women that I have ever met in my time here in Springburn...apart for you, that is,” he said, placing his haun in hers before leaning o’er and gieing her a peck on the cheek.
“Well, that’s good to know, especially since I’ve been slaving away all day in that kitchen, without so much as a hand or an offer of help,” she said mockingly, looking across at the two teenagers.
“I did set the table, Mummy dear. Remember?”
“And I cleaned out the grate and made the fire,” Dan reminded her.
“Who is she, darling?”
“Remember I showed you the leaflets that two of the local women were handing out at the church entrance recently, regarding warrant sales?”
“Yes.”
“She’s one of them.”
“And what about the other one? Isn’t she equally as wonderful?” Dan asked.
“What’s warrant sales?” Eleanor asked.
“Warrant sales are when The Corporation or some other company like the gas board or electricity companies apply to have Sheriff officers impound a family’s belongings...usually their furniture...and sell them by advertising in The Evening Times or Evening Citizen the date, place and time of the sale in their columns. The sales usually take place in the home of the person who cannot pay off their debt. Before the sale, Sheriff officers enter the house and place rock bottom prices on the goods that they believe are worth selling. It’s a horrible business.”
“You mean the sale takes place in the person’s house?” Dan asked.
“Yes. It can be very distressing. The sales attract people from all over the city, and beyond sometimes. I’ve seen the same vans, driven by the same people, doing the rounds. The Sheriff officers are only interested in recovering the amount that is owed, hence the rock bottom prices. They sell everything, and I mean everything...beds, televisions...even children’s toys, if it will raise a few pennies to pay off the debt.”
“And The Corporation allows this? It’s legal?”
“Oh yes, perfectly legal. The legal name for it is 'poinding.'”
“So, where does this amazing woman come into the picture then?”
The Reverend telt them the story aboot the death ae young Joe McManus and how he’d gone up tae the hoose tae offer the family comfort. He explained that he wisnae aware ae the connection until him, and some ae his parishioners, hid turned up tae demonstrate ootside the closemooth, where the sale wis taking place. He explained the near riot before Mrs McManus and the other woman, Helen Taylor, hid turned up.
“I’ve heard her name being raised in various quarters ever since we moved to Glasgow, and not always in complimentary terms either, so it was good to actually see and meet her in person. She took control like some sort of general. Her impact on the gathering was instantaneous. Within seconds, she had restored order. It was extraordinary. What made it so amazing was that she had old Mrs Jamieson, Mrs Johnston and Mrs Thompson marching up and down the pavement, waving placards in amongst the other local women.”
“Old Mrs Johnston and Mrs Thompson were marching up and down a pavement carrying placards?” Eleanor exclaimed in disbelief, laughing.
“Mrs ‘Hang-em-high’ Johnston? That Mrs Johnston?” Dan asked, equally astonished.
“The very ones.”
“So, what happened then?” Eleanor asked.
“The sale was abandoned. It was astonishing. I’ve read about the street demonstrations th
at took place during and after the First World War that were organised by female agitators within the tenement community, but to see this woman in action took my breath away.”
“Did anyone get hurt, Daddy?”
“By the time we arrived in a couple of cars, one of the policemen, Sergeant McPhee, had blood pouring out of his mouth. The air was electric. It crossed my mind to turn back and get the ladies from the church…all ten of them…back into the cars, but it was too late. They were all standing on the pavement, looking towards me and wondering what to do next. I needn’t have worried. Within a few seconds of remonstrating with the police sergeant, Joan of Arc arrived on the scene and took command. It was spellbinding to see her operate. Before I knew it, she had allocated everyone a task and had taken it from there. The interesting thing about it, apart from the ladies of the church carrying out her commands, for me at least, was that during the melee, she gave Sergeant McPhee, clearly the enemy, a cloth to stop the flow of blood from his mouth.”
“I can’t wait until I tell Lucy Primrose and Angela Wilmington that my dad took part in a riot,” Eleanor said, smiling.
“There was no class distinction between the local women and the ladies from the congregation. She commanded and everyone took up their positions instantly, without questioning her leadership role. It was humbling to watch and be part of.”
“So, what happens now, darling?” Susan asked, putting her haun in his.
“I really don’t know. I couldn’t sleep last night for thinking about it.”
“Why don’t you invite her around for a meal, Daddy? I would love to meet her,” Eleanor asked, eyes shining.
“Yes, you could invite Lucy Primrose and Angela Wilmington around and we can all stare at her and she may even let you and your friends prod her with your grubby little fingers, Eleanor,” Dan said.
“So, will you be seeing her again, Donald?” Susan asked him.
“I really don’t know. I suppose she’ll be in attendance at Mrs McManus’s son’s funeral. After the service this morning, the ladies in the congregation asked when the next warrant sale was taking place. Seemingly they’ve enlisted half the congregation to take part in the next one.”
