by Todd, Ian
“Did it work?”
“Well, they gied her a two month extension, which wis jist long enough fur her tae square them up wae whit she owed them and she’s still living in the same hoose. That must’ve been aboot eighteen months ago or thereaboots.”
The Reverend hid gone in tae three newsagents, two dairies, a laundrette, a furniture store and a tailor shoap. Everywan...shoapkeepers and customers alike...hid said the same thing aboot Helen Taylor. Aw wur able tae articulate anecdotal evidence ae her involvement and activity in helping people and families in the community.
“She’s a bloody legend in her ain time, so she is, Reverend...if ye’ll excuse ma language,” one wummin hid said.
“But what aboot the local Councillor, Dick Mulholland? Would they have gone to him?” he’d asked a group in Hoey’s furniture store.
“Ur ye jesting or whit? Ah widnae hiv gone tae him if Ah’d been oan fire,” another wummin hid declared, tae nods ae agreement fae her fellow shoappers.
“They politician wans cannae staun the sight ae her. They kin see that she’s daeing whit they should be daeing in the first place, so they kin,” another hid said.
It wis incredible, the Reverend thought, as he turned intae Mrs McManus’s closemooth. He’d been living in the community wae his family fur some time. Why hid their paths never crossed before noo? He shivered, thinking aboot JP’s venomous attack oan her the day before. He wis aware that elected cooncillors hid restrictions oan how they conducted their activity oan behauf ae their constituents and that they hid tae work within a code ae conduct, bit not wan person that he’d spoken wae so far hid mentioned seeking oot the services and support ae their locally elected member, apart fae wan person.
“Never again, Reverend...he wis useless. Ah’m still waiting fur a response, so Ah am.”
“Aye, well, Trish, ye kin furget aboot it, noo that he’s deid,” her friend hid said.
He reached the tap landing and knocked oan the door. The little girl…Mary, he thought her name wis...opened it.
“Hello, is your mummy in, dear?”
“Maw! There’s a man wae a collar at the door fur ye,” the girl turned and shouted, before adding, “She’ll be here in a minute, so she will.”
“Reverend, Reverend, come in, come in,” Mrs McManus said, pulling the girl aside tae let him pass.
“Awright then, Reverend?”
“Hellorerr, Reverend.”
“Cauld day fur it, Reverend, eh?”
“Sharon, get up aff that fat arse ae yers and gie The Reverend a nice wee seat by the fire,” wan ae the wummin said as he entered the living room.
“Hello, ladies. Yes, it’s a cold one outside,” he said, taking a seat in the cigarette smoke-filled room.
“Right, get that doon ye, Reverend. Ah’m sorry Ah hivnae any tea biscuits,” Mrs McManus said, haunin him a cup ae hot tea.
“Thank you, Mrs McManus.”
“It’s Issie, Reverend. Jist call me Issie. This is ma good pals and neighbours, Sandra, Cathy, Sally, Mary, who ye met at her warrant sale last week, Sharon and Betty. Ye awready know Helen,” Issie said, introducing everywan.
“Aye, we’re jist waiting fur a decision,” Sharon quipped.
“Decision?”
“Aye, whether she’s gaun aheid wae a cremation or haudin oot fur a burial fur poor Joe,” Helen said.
“I take it the strike went ahead as planned today?” he asked Helen.
“Aye. Ah’ve jist been doon tae the cemetery gates and spoken wae that Squinty Alex wan, oan the picket line. He reckons that although The Corporation hiv agreed wae their terms, they still don’t trust them, so they’ll be back oot the morra. Their union rep said that it wid take until the morra tae sort oot the paperwork, so the boys hiv said that they’ll go back tae work wance they see it signed oan the dotted line. There’s a meeting being called fur the morra morning, doon at the orange halls oan Cathedral Street. Here’s hoping everything goes tae plan, eh?”
“And the undertakers?”
“Oh, Wee Mary is jist back fae phoning that Mr Departure wan again. He said that they could dae the burial oan Friday and hiv offered me anytime between nine and eleven. They also said that there’s a windae ae opportunity fur a cremation slot at The Glesga Crematorium across in Lambhill the morra at ten o’clock as well, bit Ah wid need tae let them know either way by wan o’clock sharp the day,” Issie replied.
The Reverend looked at the clock oan the mantelpiece, which said ten tae wan.
“So, whit dae ye think, Issie? We cannae let poor Joe hing aboot much mair, hen,” Sharon said oan behauf ae them all.
“Ah know...Ah’m jist no sure. Ah wish tae God Tam wis sober. He’d know whit tae dae,” she said, wringing her fingers, as her daughter came and sat oan her lap.
“Aye, well, wae the state he’s in, him being no well,” Helen said, quickly glancing across at the minister, “Ah’m sure he’d want ye tae dae whit ye think wis right, hen.”
“Right, Mary, go and put yer jaicket oan and take a bob oot ae ma purse fur the phone box. Ah’ve made up ma mind. Friday it is.” Issie declared, finality in her voice, as aw heids turned and looked at Wee Mary, wishing her tae hurry up in case Issie changed her mind…again.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Helen sat in the same chair as she hid the last time she’d been in the manse kitchen. The Reverend said he’d go and gie Susan a shout fae the shed where she wis welding her owl. The Reverend hid been up at Issie’s earlier and hid worked oot Joe’s service wae her. The funeral people hid informed Wee Mary, when she’d phoned them fae the telephone box doon oan Keppochhill Road, that the burial itsel wid take place across in the cemetery at ten o’clock oan the Friday morning. The Reverend hid informed her that the service wid start at quarter past nine in the Keir Hardie room in the small hall next tae the main Springburn Public Halls. He could’ve goat wan ae the bigger rooms in the main building, bit Issie hid telt him that there widnae be many people there...probably aboot forty tae forty five, aw in. Given that it wis Hogmanay, Issie and Tam wurnae gonnae put oan a wake, bit people could come back tae their hoose fur a wee cup ae tea and a biscuit, if they wanted. Issie hid also announced that she hoped everywan wid excuse her between noo and first thing oan Friday morning, bit it wis time tae get Tam sobered up. Wance The Reverend hid left, Helen and Sharon hid gied Issie a haun tae turn the place upside doon, looking fur Auld England sherry bottles and money that Tam hid stashed away. They’d found two bottles and thirty bob in change that he’d hidden. Wee Mary wis tae go and stay roond at Sharon’s, while Issie started Tam’s sobering-up session. This wis tae consist ae her locking their front door fae the inside and hiding the key tae stoap him fae getting oot tae heid alang tae the licensed grocers fur a tap-up. Helen and the lassies wur gonnae go up tae Issie’s at seven oan Friday morning, tae take her any provisions she needed fur efter the funeral. Jist as The Reverend wis heiding oot the door, he’d asked Helen if she’d take a run up tae see him when she’d a hauf hour tae spare. Him and his missus, Mrs Flaw...Susan...wanted tae hiv a wee word wae her.
The flashing blue lights fae the welding torch stoapped efter he disappeared intae the shed and a few seconds later, his wife followed him up the path tae the kitchen.
“Helen, it’s so good to see you again. Thank you for coming,” she said, washing her hauns in the sink.
“Here you go, ladies,” The Reverend said, passing a mug ae tea across tae them fae the worktop before joining them.
Helen looked at them. She didnae know Susan well enough tae be sure, bit she goat the impression that they wur aboot tae tell her that the moon wis made ae green cheese. Susan wis smiling and The Reverend wis gieing her wee tentative glances.
“Ye wanted tae speak tae me, Reverend?”
“Er, yes, Helen. I wasn’t sure if this was the right time, but Susan has convinced me otherwise.”
“Oh, aye?” Helen asked, looking across at Susan.
“Yes, well, people are already being
asked for their commitment, even as we speak, therefore, I think we may have to move fast,” Susan replied apologetically.
“Right?” Helen said slowly, looking at the pair ae them.
“So, we...Susan, thought that despite the awfulness of what has happened to Mrs McManus’s son, Joe, we would run something past you, er, not of course looking for a decision straight away, but, er, as Susan has said, we may, er, have to act quickly, so as not to end up fighting a, er, a rear guard action...if you see what I mean?”
“Ah’m sorry, Reverend, bit Ah hivnae a clue whit ye’re oan aboot, so Ah don’t.”
“I don’t think we’re doing this as well as we could be, dear,” The Reverend said, staunin up and gaun across tae the unit and opening a drawer, before returning tae his seat.
“I’m terribly sorry for the confusion, Helen. What are we like, eh?” Susan apologised.
“Ach, nae problem, hen. Jist take yer time. Ah’m no gaun anywhere exotic the day.”
“Helen, do you know what this is?” The Reverend asked, haunin her an auld weather beaten booklet.
Helen looked at it, brows furrowed. She started reading, looking up at them every noo and again, before continuing.
“Aye, it looks like some kind ae election pamphlet, so it dis. Why?”
“This is the election pamphlet that a woman called Agnes Dollan put together when she stood as a town council candidate in Springburn in 1921.”
“Did she get elected?” Helen asked.
“Yes,” they both answered thegither, nodding.
“Good fur her, although, it disnae look as if she made much ae a difference, so it disnae,“ Helen said, looking doon at the pamphlet again.
“Oh, she made a big difference...more so than what she would have done if she hadn’t stood and won.”
“Well, it says here that she wanted tae fight fur decent hoosing fur people and tae stoap people being slung oot ae their hooses by the landlords. She says a lot aboot health as well. Ah widnae say things hiv changed aw that much fae where Ah’m staunin.”
“Were you aware that Dick Mulholland died and was buried recently, Helen?” The Reverend asked her.
“Aye. Don’t get me wrang, Dick Mulholland wis a good enough person…a bit weak, bit decent enough. Ah knew he wis very sick as well, bit he widnae hiv been ma first choice as a cooncillor.”
“Who would have been?” Susan asked her.
“Aboot here? Ach, Ah don’t think there’s anywan that springs tae mind. Ah’m no intae politics. Ah’ve...we’ve been let doon too many times wae aw these people spouting aboot this and that, and no gieing a shi...er, a monkey’s aboot the ordinary decent people they swore tae serve. Ah don’t cast ma vote tae anywan,” she said.
“When I was at the Public Halls earlier, making the arrangements for young Joseph’s funeral on Friday, I bumped into old Charlie Mann and his two cronies, Bob Henderson and John McGuigan. It was quite interesting in that they basically said the same as yourself, which I thought was strange seeing as how active and heavily involved they used to be in local politics,” The Reverend said.
“Aye, Ah know they auld pirates...everywan calls them The Three Comrades, always haudin the bar up, doon in The Journeyman’s Club, so they ur. Noo, take somewan like Charlie...in fact, either wan ae them wid be ideal candidates if they wur aboot thirty years younger. It’s nae good gaun fur somewan that hisnae the time or energy tae devote tae it.”
“Helen, Charlie said that an aunt of yours stood as a councillor once, way back in the thirties. Is that right?” The Reverend asked, as Susan went o’er tae the sink and filled the kettle before putting it oan the cooker.
“Aye, that wis ma auntie Jeannie, oan ma ma’s side ae the family. She wis ma ma’s twin sister. She brought me up until Ah wis aboot ten because Ma wis in service in some big hoose across in the West End. That’s probably wan ae the reasons why Ah’m always oot and aboot, kicking up a fuss aboot everything. She wis always dragging me aboot tae aw sorts ae meetings and demonstrations. She wis a feisty auld bird, wis ma auntie Jeannie...widnae take any shi...er, crap fae anywan.”
“Charlie said she lost the election...or was robbed of the election, was his exact words.”
“Ach, it wis a long time ago, so it wis. If ma memory serves me well, it wis in the mid-thirties.”
“What became of her, Helen?” Susan asked.
“Well, efter she wis robbe...er, lost the election, she went o’erseas.”
“Overseas? In the thirties? Did she get married to someone from a different country or something?”
“It’s funny ye should say that, bit the few times that ma ma spoke aboot her when Ah wis growing up, she said she wis in love wae some dashing Spanish sojer. Ah knew she wis talking through a hole in her heid, bit if it made her feel good, then who wis Ah tae put her right. That ma ae mine didnae speak aboot her...ever, efter she didnae come back hame. Even when Ah brought it up o’er the years, she jist clammed up.”
“So, what became of Aunt Jeannie?”
“She died, which wis a pity. Ah could’ve done wae her before ma wild days kicked in,” Helen replied, smiling.
“What did she die of?”
“Well, she wis a nurse...don’t ask me how she managed that, as it’s a long story and there’s a lot ae gaps in ma memory ae they days, bit efter the election, she volunteered tae go tae Spain. She worked alangside the Scottish Ambulance Unit fur a while before attaching hersel tae The International Brigades in the civil war. She didnae return. Ah wis telt that she died during the bombing ae Barcelona. That must’ve been roond aboot thirty seven or thirty eight.”
“Oh, Helen, I’m so sorry,” Susan said, reaching across and taking Helen’s hauns in hers.
“Ach, it wis such a long time ago. Ah hivnae thought aboot her fur a wee while noo. When ma ma died earlier this year, ma da gied me a box full ae papers, aw relating tae Jeannie...like letters and stuff. There wis quite a few pictures ae her in her uniform, leaving Central Station wae a bunch ae other volunteers. If Ah get a chance, Ah’ll see if Ah kin dig them oot and let ye see them, if ye want? Ah hivnae hid time tae go through the box yet.”
“Oh, Helen, that would be wonderful. I would love to see the photographs,” Susan said.
“Look, Ah’ve goat a funny feeling where aw this is leading tae. As Ah’ve jist said, Ah hiv absolutely nae respect fur the bunch ae cooncillors that hiv been running the show doon in The City Chambers fur yonks noo, bit seeing as ye’ve been great tae Issie, as well as me and the lassies oan the warrant sales, Ah’d be prepared tae lend a haun...depending oan who it is, mind ye...wae a wee bit ae canvassing. Bit, Ah’ll tell ye right noo, under nae circumstances will Ah support that auld fox, JP Donnelly, so Ah wullnae.”
“Helen, Helen, you’ve misunderstood us. We don’t want you to support a candidate for Dick Mulholland’s vacant seat,” The Reverend said, wae a smile.
“Helen, we want to ask you to consider standing as a councillor at the election in four weeks’ time,” Susan exclaimed.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Helen sat at her wee kitchen table, toasting her feet in front ae her Christmas present while sipping her tea and smoking a fag. Because she’d been so busy, she’d forgotten that Johnboy wis getting oot the next day. When she remembered, she’d mentioned tae Jimmy that she wis wondering whether she should heid oot tae Polmont, tae meet him when they released him.
“Helen, ur ye saft or whit? How wid ye get oot tae Polmont and back tae support Issie and Stan in time? Ye’ll jist hiv tae get used tae the idea that yer wee spotty-arsed boy-child is noo a man and responsible fur his ain actions. Christ, don’t even think ae turning up and gieing him a showing-up in front ae the other wee thieving basturts that ur getting oot at the same time as him. He won’t thank ye fur it. And another thing, ye better start thinking aboot clearing aw the shite oot ae his bedroom while ye’re at it, though Ah don’t suppose we’ll see him back here fur mair than five minutes wance he dis get oot,” Jimmy hid said.
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She knew Jimmy wis right. He’d always been the pragmatic wan between them, while her fuel hid always been high octave emotion. She operated at a hunner miles an hour, while he meandered fae the hoose tae his job and back again. He enjoyed sitting oan that arse ae his wae his paper in front ae the telly, while she, apart fae watching Coronation Street, preferred tae be sitting through in the kitchen, planning her next attack oan they Sheriff officers or the looney tunes doon in The Corporation. Jimmy never went oot, and if he did, it wis always wae her tae a do ae her choice, whether it wis tae the pub or roond tae wan ae her pals’ hooses. She widnae say he wis content, under the circumstances, bit he seemed tae take maist things in his stride, until she pushed him too hard. When his gasket blew, he didnae haud back and gied it tae her in the neck swiftly. The suggestion by The Reverend Flaw and his wife, Susan, that she might want tae think ae staunin fur Dick Mulholland’s vacant seat hid been like a bolt oot ae the blue. The Reverend hid embarrassed her by saying that he’d asked aboot in Springburn as tae who people went tae fur help, and a lot ae people hid mentioned her. Oan the way hame, she’d been kicking hersel fur no challenging him oan who’d said whit. She suspected that it hid been Issie and the rest ae the lassies that he’d spoken tae...no really an unbiased straw-poll in anywan’s book. Susan hid pleaded wae her tae gie it a bit ae thought, even efter she’d telt them she knew nothing aboot politics.
“Ah widnae even know where tae start,” she’d said.
“Look, whilst it wouldn’t be proper for me to become involved in supporting any one candidate, that doesn’t apply to Susan,” The Reverend hid telt her.
“Helen, I would work day and night to assist you to get elected. I did a stint as one of Anthony Wedgewood Benn’s election team in the sixties,” Susan hid said supportively.
“Bit, whit aboot yer exhibition doon in London?”
“Helen, that isn’t important. What is important is that the people and the community that is Springburn get what they deserve, for a change,” Susan hid said.
