by Todd, Ian
The Stalker looked at his watch. Twenty tae two. He hidnae realised the time. He closed the folder and stood up. He hid tae get doon tae St Teresa’s fur two o’clock. Father John wid be wanting tae get his grubby mitts oan the file. The Stalker picked up his hat and the file and heided fur the door. His heid wis still spinning. He still couldnae get o’er that somewan like Helen Taylor, the dirty cow that she wis, wid’ve been intae a psychopathic madman like Pat Molloy.
Chapter Forty Six
Helen glanced across the table at Susan and then peered beyond her shoulder, oot ae the kitchen windae, tae the shed that she could see ootlined at the bottom ae the manse garden. Susan looked tired. Usually when Helen appeared aroond at the manse, Susan wid be oot in the shed welding, putting thegither the metal feathers oan her owl that wis part ae the exhibition she wis supposed tae be putting oan in some fancy gallery doon in London. Helen missed seeing the blue flashes shooting oot ae the shed windaes fae the welding gear, lighting up hauf the garden, like some distant electric storm. Because ae Helen staunin in the by-election, Susan hid cancelled the exhibition tae take oan the role ae her election manager. Despite the demands placed oan her by being the minister’s wife in a busy parish, Susan hid been oot oan the streets, encouraging everywan tae keep gaun, despite the atrocious weather. She’d also intervened in acrimonious shouting matches between Helen’s supporters and the opposition’s hauf a dozen times in the past week. Even mair embarrassingly, Susan hid hid tae jump in and stoap Sharon Campbell and Soiled Sally fae killing each other efter they squared up tae wan another oan Keppochhill Road while the opposition stood laughing and jeering. Seemingly, Sharon hid telt Sally tae fuck aff efter refusing tae haun o’er some leaflets tae save Sally hivving tae troop aw the way back up tae Helen’s hoose in Carlisle Street tae get some mair. Some nameless bugger hid stolen the box ae leaflets they’d left at the bottom ae a closemooth while they wur up the stairs putting leaflets through the doors. Tae try and resolve a re-run ae the O.K. Corral happening again, they’d decided tae store the leaflets and posters up at the manse, even though it hid previously been decided tae keep the church well away fae the campaign. The beauty ae using the manse wis that it wis mair central fur everywan tae get access tae. JP hid awready been protesting loudly aboot the Reverend Flaw’s biased position in the election because ae Susan’s involvement.
“How are your headaches, Helen?” Susan asked her, interrupting her thoughts while pouring Helen a cup ae tea.
“Trying tae ootdo they sore feet ae mine. Ah jist cannae believe the amount ae excruciating pain that shoots up yer legs at the end ae the day efter trooping aboot the pavements fae morning tae night, so Ah cannae.”
“Have you thought about going to the doctor?”
“Fur ma feet?”
“Your headaches?”
“Whit’s he gonnae dae aboot it? The last time Ah went tae the doctor wis when the weans wur wee tots. He tried tae palm me aff wae they little mother’s helpers, so he did. When Ah refused them, he stated quite bluntly that there jist wisnae anything else that he could gie a mother ae five weans, who wis clearly depressed. And anyway, the heidaches hiv only appeared back again since Ah’ve been oot and aboot, trying tae convince people that Ah’m their man oan The Corporation. Ah’ve hid them oan and aff fur years efter a big glaikit sergeant called Liam Thompson knocked me oot doon at Central oan the day me and aw the local wummin goat lifted during a warrant sale back in the sixties.”
“Yes, I must admit, I was actually quite shocked when I discovered the amount of women who are prescribed pills up here in Glasgow. I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but I don’t think that I’ve come across one single woman under the age of fifty who isn’t on some sort of uppers or downers.”
“Me?”
“You’ll be the exception, believe me, Helen. Surely all the women in Springburn can’t be in need of tranquilisers?”
“It wid surprise ye, so it wid. Take aw ma pals, fur instance. Every single wan ae them hiv goat wee cabinets and drawers overflowing wae hauf empty bottles ae this or that. Ah remember a few years ago, jist before we wur cleared oot ae the Toonheid, Betty, who lived next door tae us at the time, decided that she’d hid enough and she wisnae gonnae take any mair ae them. The daft twat flushed whit she hid doon the toilet. Efter two days ae climbing the walls, she went fur that man ae hers, Stan, wae a breid knife. How she’s no in the jail, daeing life fur murder, Ah’ll never know.”
“So, what happened to Stan?”
“Tae Stan The Man? Ach, he jist disarmed her in two moves flat and then proceeded tae tie her tae the bed wae his spare trooser belts. He then nipped roond tae Sharon Campbell’s hoose tae borrow enough ae her pills tae feed Betty until she could make an appointment tae see her doctor and get a big batch ae her ain.”
“That’s awful.”
“Aye, well, there ye go. Since Betty goat her prescription, her and Stan hiv lived happily efter ever, so they hiv. Betty laughs aboot her kinky session wae Stan noo, bit at the time, it wisnae any laughing matter. He said she’d turned demonic o’er night. Stan confessed tae me that he’d never goat such a fright in his life. ‘If that’s whit she’s like withoot her pills then thank fuc...er, God fur the good doctor, that’s aw Ah kin say. Gie me Zombieville insteid ae Psycho, any day ae the week,’ Ah kin remember him saying that tae me, straight-faced.”
“I blame the GPs. It seems to me to be an easy option. I wonder how many men are prescribed the same medication when they visit the surgery?”
“Ach, well, the way Ah’m feeling, Ah could dae wae a wee pick-me-up masel, so Ah could. Ah thought there wis nae flies oan me, bit the dirty tricks that JP Donnelly and his crowd ur hitting us wae, makes me look a right amateur. Did Ann Jackson tell ye the latest when ye spoke tae her last night?”
“No, she only said ‘hello’ in the passing. Why, what’s happened?”
“Well, get this wan. Ye know how we’ve been distributing aw oor leaflets roond the doors? Well, Ann telt me that her grandson and aw his pals fae Gourlay Street Primary School wur sent roond aw the doors up and doon Gourlay Street, Morrin Street, Kendrick Street and Keppochhill Road, asking people if they hid any election leaflets lying aboot as they wur daeing a school project. Needless tae say, everywan and their dug haunded o’er the leaflets that wur lying aboot their lobbies that they hidnae tossed in the bin. Wance everywan’s leaflets wur collected, the same wee buggers wur then sent back oot tae distribute aw JP’s mug-shot wanted-poster leaflets back roond the same doors the very next day. Kin ye believe that?”
“Never!”
“Oh, it gets better. Ye know how you and aw the rest ae the lassies telt me no tae be bothered wae that article that that bald-heided bawheid, Bradley McLeod, fae The Echo, wrote efter the launch? Well, Ah’ve lost five ae the wummin who wur helping us oot oan the campaigning because ae it.”
“Oh, no, Helen,” Susan cried, reaching across and taking Helen’s hauns in hers.
“It widnae be so bad, bit wan ae them wis wee Nan McWhirter, Squinty Alex, the gravedigger’s wife. Ah’ve known Nan fur donkey’s years,” Helen croaked, tears welling up in her eyes.
“But, why?”
“Ah’ve been roond tae her hoose, bit there wis nae answer when Ah rattled the letterbox. She telt Issie that Alex, her man, hid telt her that his job wis oan the line if Ah goat elected, so she did. Even though Issie telt her that the article wis a lot ae shi..., er, guff, she widnae listen. ‘We cannae afford ma Alex tae be laid aff wae the debt we’ve goat, aw because Helen hates The Corporation,’ she’d said tae Issie.”
“Oh, Helen, I’m so sorry. I know this won’t make you feel better, but that’s just the newspapers for you, especially if someone is standing in an election. When I worked on Tony Benn’s campaign, you wouldn’t believe the things they said and accused him of. I’m afraid you just have to ignore it and get on with it...that’s politics, I’m afraid.”
“So, how did he deal wae it then?”
�
��He just ignored it and got on with the business of winning the election.”
“Well, seeing as we’re oan the subject ae trying tae win an election and bad news comes in threes, we’re in dire need ae mair leaflets.”
“Oh? I thought we were still okay, or we seemed to be, when I handed over some to the girls this morning.”
“It’s Friday and we’ve still goat o’er a week ae campaigning left. Ah reckon we’ve goat a few days worth and that’s it. Remember, we’ve goat aw the churches and chapels tae dae this Sunday. That’ll take up a good whack ae oor stock, so it will.”
“What are the girls saying?”
“Oh, they’re happy tae dae their wee spiel ae ‘Save oor Community, keep JP oot,’ bit they’ll need a leaflet tae back that up, ootlining whit oor list ae issues ur, so they will.”
“Look, you shouldn’t be worrying about that...that’s my job. I’ll discuss the situation with Issie and Sally later on when I meet them at two o’clock. Don’t worry, Helen, I’m quite sure we’ll come up with something. You just get out there and keep smiling, eh?” Susan said, haunin o’er a paper Handy Andy fae her apron.
Chapter Forty Seven
Mary wisnae happy, bit there wis nothing she could dae. She’d gied up trying tae persuade or pressurise little Miss Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep tae change the way she wis gaun aboot trying tae get Mary access tae the social worker moll. Christ, she’d even offered her a wage rise, despite no hivving the authority tae authorise anything ae the sort.
“Miss Marigold...Mary...Ah’m telling ye, let me deal wae it the way Ah’ve explained. We hiv tae be sensitive and careful that we don’t blow oorsels oot ae the water, so we dae. Ah cannae dae anything until Ah speak tae ma pal, Senga, the night...and even then, it might no be a runner.”
“Bit why, Pearl? Why kin Ah no jist meet up wae whit’s her name...yer pal?”
“Senga.”
“Aye…Senga...Ah could hiv a wee word wae her, and then get her tae sneak me intae the ward, eh? Whit’s wrang wae that? Ah’ll be in and oot before anywan knows Ah’m there.”
“Fur a start, Senga wid get the sack if she wis caught and secondly, the wummin isnae in a ward. She’s in a private room, wae a polisman sitting at the door, so she is.”
“Bit Ah could get masel a nurse’s uniform and slip in wae her.”
“Look, if this goes aheid, we need tae make sure Senga isnae under any suspicion. Leave it wae me and Ah’ll let ye know whit the score is, first thing oan Monday morning.”
Her weekend wis gonnae be ruined noo, Mary fumed. How wis she supposed tae cope wae no knowing whether she hid the story ae the year or if she wid hiv tae put thegither some drivel that she hidnae even prepared? She glanced doon at the heidline oan the front page ae The Echo. It read, ‘IT’S NO LAUGHING MATTER...HEH, HEH.’ She picked up the paper and read the leader.
“‘The Glesga Echo kin reveal that a statement regarding who owned the torture factory at 347 Garscube Road made by The City ae Glesga’s Assistant Chief Constable Jack Tipple, is wrang. As a result ae Assistant Chief Tipple’s earlier statement tae the media, it wis reported in this newspaper oan Wednesday that a major underworld figure owned the building that hid allegedly been used tae torture, and possibly murder his victims. The Echo’s chief crime reporter, Sammy Elliot, kin sensationally report who the real owners ae the building ur. Efter extensive investigative research, it is believed that the premises oan Garscube Road wur wance owned by Hong Kong based company, HEH HEH Holdings. The Hong Kong owners purchased the building fur an undisclosed sum in September 1968 fae Glesga-based company, Molloy Enterprises Ltd. It his also come tae light that HEH HEH Holdings then sold the property oan tae Glesga Corporation, no long efter they purchased it. The Echo believes that The Corporation bought the building and surrounding land using taxpayer’s money, in anticipation ae the City’s Inner Ring Road Redevelopment expanding intae Maryhill. The Echo kin also sensationally reveal that although The Corporation subsequently leased oot the property in January 1969 tae a local company called Easy Pickings, nae rent his actually been collected by The Corporation since they leased the premises in 1969. Despite attempts by The Glesga Echo tae contact personnel associated wae Easy Pickings, a forwarding address and telephone number fur the company his been discovered tae be bogus. The so-called underworld figure, supposedly at the centre ae the ownership dispute, is believed tae be living abroad, bit his released a statement through his solicitors, Crankie and Crankier, who hiv refuted the claims made by Assistant Chief Constable Tipple. The solicitors hiv been instructed tae take legal action against any media outlet that prints their client’s name or members ae his family and associates in relation tae Mr Tipple’s claims.
“We ur living in a democracy, which means people ur entitled tae the protection fae scandalous allegations and harassment by the state. Ma client unequivocally denies any association wae the building efter his family sold the premises in the late 1960s,” Mr Joshua Crankie stated.
Glesga City Corporation wis unavailable fur comment at the time ae gaun tae print, bit a spokesman said that a full and open investigation wid be initiated oan the matter. Fur further revelations in this sensational story, readers should turn tae pages four and five inside.’”
“Is that ye talking tae yersel, Miss Marigold?”
“Naw, Pearl, Ah wis jist reading oot loud tae masel. Whit ur ye efter, hen?”
“Mr Bryce’s secretary fae the crime desk room jist called doon tae say that it’s unlikely that Mr Bryce will be able tae see ye the day as the shit his hit the fan and he’s too busy,” Pearl chirped happily.
“Aye, that figures. Look, here’s a ten-bob note...go and get me twenty fags and get a five packet fur yersel while ye’re at it, Pearl,” she said, tossing o’er the note.
She’d telt Benson whit the score wis wae the story when she’d gone hame the night before...wance she’d left him tae stew fur a respectable time, hivving gied him a flea in his ear fur interfering and being the cause ae her being lumbered wae Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep. God, how could somewan be so bloody chirpy wae a mass ae red curly hair and the amount ae freckles that she wis walking aboot wae plastered aw o’er her face? Mary hid awready made up her mind that, story or no, as soon as next Wednesday’s column wis aff tae the copy room, Pearl wis oot oan that wee chirpy arse ae hers. She’d see how chirpy she wis then. In the meantime, Mary wis twiddling her thumbs and wisnae too sure whit tae dae next, column-wise. She’d been racking her brain, trying tae think up an alternative tae the social worker moll exclusive, bit fur the life ae her, nothing wis coming forward. It hid crossed her mind tae ask Pearl if she hid any flashes ae inspiration, bit hid decided that that wid be like a general asking Sad Sack whit tae dae next wae the artillery. Benson hidnae been that convinced when she’d revealed that she hid the story ae the year either.
“Really?” he’d said, nearly getting excited by her news.
“Well, nearly, really,” she’d replied, mellowing efter coming oot ae her huff.
“So, what does that mean?”
“It means Ah’m dependent oan that wee uppity street urchin ye papped oan tae me behind ma back, so it dis.”
“I’m sorry, Mary. Start from the beginning,” he’d said soothingly.
Efter she’d explained the situation fae start tae finish, he hidnae exactly jumped up and doon. In fact, he’d hid that cynical look oan him that he saved fur the motor manufacturing reps who always tried tae convince him that their new bangers wur the next Mini.
“Ah know there’s a few ifs and buts in there, bit Ah think Ah’m oan tae something, so Ah dae,” she’d pouted, no sounding that convincing.
“Look, Mary, please do not, under any circumstances, go to Tom Bryce with this. He’ll laugh you out of his office. Stick with the girl’s plan. If it’s a runner by Monday, you’ll have two days to get the story together. Tom Bryce is totally immersed in this gangster story just now. No-one can get access to him.”
“Bit, this is aboot the
gangster story,” she’d retorted miserably.
“Until you actually meet and talk with this woman...the social worker...you don’t have a story. You’ll just have to be patient. Prepare a fall-back position. Whatever happens, you’ll need to have something to put in your column come Tuesday, for Wednesday’s edition.”
Mary knew he wis right, bit it hidnae stoapped her fae feeling frustrated aboot the situation. She hated being dependent oan other people, especially a fifteen-year-auld school leaver who still wore broon leather brogue shoes. Christ, they’re probably her school shoes she’s still wearing, Mary thought tae hersel as Pearl came towards her, saying ‘hello’ cheerfully tae aw the typists oan the way past their desks.
