by Todd, Ian
Senga looked at her patient, hesitating before replying.
“They read the papers like everywan else...or at least some ae them dae.”
‘What do they say? That I’m as bad and wicked as I’m portrayed in the papers?’
“Naw, Ah’m no sure that that’s whit wid sway them. They aw know fine well that yesterday’s papers ur the day’s fish and chip wrappers, so they dae.”
‘I’m surprised.’
“That’s jist who they ur.”
‘So, what do they say then?’
“They come at it fae a different angle, so they dae. Yer...er...boyfriend’s brother stabbed somewan who we aw know...and loved.”
‘I’m sorry, Senga. I shouldn’t have pried. I read that the police were trying to apprehend Thomas’s brother, Toby, for involvement in the murder of a young lad in Springburn. Was that the boy?”
“Aye,” Senga replied, drapping her eyes.
Silence.
‘All your friends must really hate me,’ Senga read on the pad that wis pushed under her nose.
“Why dae ye write that? If ma friends hate ye, it certainly isnae because ye went oot wae a baddie, so it isnae,” Senga blurted oot, cursing hersel fur letting her tongue loose wae whit wis in her brain.
‘Oh?’
“Look, don’t listen tae me...Alison. Ah’m well known fur putting ma fit in it and upsetting the apple cart, so Ah am.”
‘So, if they don’t hate me for my choice of man to have an affair with, what other reason would there be?’
Senga telt hersel tae watch oot. She wis letting her guard doon. She’d furgoatten that this wis a social worker...an injured wan...bit still a social worker. She could feel the social worker’s eyes oan her, expecting a response. She hesitated, before taking a deep breath and looked at her patient.
“Look, Ah don’t want tae upset ye so maybe we should change the subject, eh?” she said.
Silence.
“Right, Ah’ll be honest wae ye...ma job here is tae try and help people get better...no make things worse. If ye really want tae know the truth...it widnae put ma friends up or doon who you, or anywan else fur that matter, went oot wae, unless they wur in a rock group or wur a film star. In fact, running aboot wae a bad boy wid probably score ye points wae maist ae them.”
‘And?’
“Ah think their problem wae somewan like yersel isnae who ye sha...er...went oot wae, bit who ye ur. Ah’m finding this hard tae put intae words and Ah’m sorry fur saying this...no that it’s me that feels that way...bit where Ah come fae, social workers and shite oan the heel ae yer shoe ur wan and the same thing, so they ur. Ah’m no saying that’s how Ah feel, bit fur the majority ae ma pals, that wid be the general feeling,” Senga blurted oot, wishing she’d been born a Catholic so she could make the sign ae the cross and ask fur furgiveness.
Silence.
‘But why?’ the pad finally asked.
“Well...apart fae being a social worker, which is bad enough...being a female social worker...well, that jist takes the biscuit, so it dis. Ye’ve nae chance,” Senga said, apologetically, shrugging they shoulders ae hers and grimacing.
‘I don’t get it.’
‘Right, how can Ah put it, withoot upsetting ye any mair than Ah hiv awready? Let’s see. How come it always seems tae be wummin social workers that come and take weans fae their maws? How come people don’t see male social workers daeing that kind ae dirty work?”
‘What’s the difference? If a child needs to go into care, it’s because they’re at risk and in danger of some sort.’
‘Fae where Ah come fae, and Ah’m no saying Ah’m wan ae them, bit people, especially the wummin, find it hard tae understaun why another wummin, social worker or no, wid dae that tae another wummin...rightly or wrongly...so they dae.”
‘I can understand that, but I can assure you that being female is never a consideration when a decision has to be made regarding something like that.’
“Aye, Ah’m sure,” Senga said, noticing the haunwriting hid deteriorated intae a squiggle.
‘No, really. It’s nothing to do with gender or what sex you are. It’s a difficult part of the job, but it’s done with compassion and sensitivity. We always try to be professional. We are professional.’
“Aye, well,” Senga sighed, nodding and staunin up.
‘You’re going?’ the pad asked.
“Ah’m sorry, bit Ah hiv tae get back...Ah’ve goat jobs Ah hiv tae dae. Ah’ll try and pop in by later. If ye need anything in the meantime, press the button and somewan will come.”
Chapter Fifty Two
“Helen, it’s yersel, hen. How’s the campaign coming oan?” Dizzy Gillespie asked her.
“Oh hello, Dizzy. Ah never knew ye wur oan the Springburn route, hen,” Helen said tae the bus clippie.
“Aye, and Ah’m fair chuffed, so Ah am. Ah usually dae the city centre tae Yoker run, so Ah dae, bit they shifted me tae this side ae the toon, so they hiv.”
“Well, here ye go, Dizzy. A single up tae Keppochhill Road,” Helen said, opening her purse and taking oot wan ae the new ten pence pieces.
“Ach, away ye go, Helen. Ah’m no gonnae take money aff ae somewan like yersel, hen. If an inspector comes oan asking tae see yer ticket, jist tell him ye goat oan the stoap before him. Ah’ll vouch fur ye, so Ah will.”
“Aw, ta, hen. So, how ur ye coping wae aw this new money then?”
“They call it by some fancy word...decimalisation...aye, that’s whit it is. Detrimental tae wan’s health, if ye ask me, so it is. Whit wis wrang wae pounds, shillings and pence, eh?” Dizzy asked, leaning o’er and taking the fag fae Helen’s fingers, looking aboot tae make sure nowan wis watching before taking a few deep puffs.
“Ur ye wanting a fag, Dizzy?”
“Naw, If Ah’m caught Ah’ll be oot oan ma arse, so Ah will. The Corporation disnae mess aboot noo-a-days, so they don’t.”
“Aye, it’s aw rules and regulations these days, so it is,” Helen agreed, haunin her fag back tae Dizzy’s grateful, ootstretched fingers.
“So, where hiv ye been oan a Sunday, aw dressed up like a tart fae Bishopton then?” Dizzy asked her.
“Oh, that? Ah’ve jist been o’er tae The Western Infirmary. Auld Charlie Mann took no well, so he did, and wis carted oot ae The Journeyman’s Club oan a stretcher last night. Ah never heard aboot it until this morning.”
“Is he okay?”
“Suspected burst appendix, they say.”
“Auld Charlie Mann? Is he no too auld tae catch something like that?”
“Obviously no.”
“Is he gonnae be okay?”
“Ah’m no sure. They widnae tell me anything seeing as Ah’m no family, bit they let me in fur a couple ae minutes, bit he wis oot fur the coont wae aw sorts ae wires and tubes hinging oot ae him. He looks really poorly.”
“Bit, Ah thought he didnae hiv any family?”
“Ah tried tae tell them that, bit they said they’d get oan tae a social worker first thing the morra morning.”
“Whit, tae tell her whit’s wrang wae him? And who is she gonnae tell? Whit aboot they cronies ae his...auld Bob Henderson and John McGuigan?”
“Ah wis oan ma way up tae Stobhill tae see Charlie, when Ah bumped intae them coming aff the bus oan Springburn Road. Thank God Ah did. It wis them that telt me he’d been transferred across tae The Western.”
“In the name ae the wee man, the poor bugger will probably end up being shipped fae pillar tae post if somewan disnae keep their eye oan him. Is there anything Ah kin dae?”
“Naw, Dizzy. Ah’ll keep in touch wae the hospital tae make sure he isnae shipped oot and furgoatten aboot.”
“Right, gie’s another few wee fly puffs ae that juicy fag before Ah go and take money aff ae the crowd that’s jist come oan, Helen.”
Helen watched Dizzy heid aff alang the tap deck tae the stairs calling oot ‘Fares please’ as she went. Dizzy wis right. Helen wid hiv tae keep in touch or Charlie migh
t end up lost in the system, given his age. It wid be bad enough fur a young wan in hospital withoot any family, bit an auld codger like Charlie wid hiv nae chance. Helen hid tried tae get the auld bugger tae slow doon. His two pals hid agreed tae take a breather, bit Charlie hid been oot there in the snow and rain fae morning tae night. When she’d spoken wae him the day before, she could see his shoes wur soaked aw the way through and his face wis blue wae the cauld. She hoped he’d pull through. Age or no, he wid be sorely missed. She wondered how Issie hid goat oan at St Teresa’s. Helen wis glad Issie wis gaun back tae the chapel. Fur aw its faults, and there wur plenty, it gied comfort tae somewan like Issie and some ae the other lassies. In fact, if the priest hidnae been that wee shitehoose, Father John, she might’ve trooped alang oan a Sunday hersel tae accept communion. The thought ae receiving absolution fae a nasty wee sleekit gnome like him wis a non-starter as far as she wis concerned. God only knew, she could be daeing wae a wee bit ae spiritual support, so she could. She couldnae remember the last time she’d taken communion...probably the late forties, early fifties. Hersel, Sharon Campbell and her daughter, Pearl, hid aw took a Proddy church each tae leaflet that morning. Pearl hid said the rest ae her pals wid be coming oot tae help dae the evening services later that night. Helen wondered whit time it wis. She hoped Jimmy wid hiv her tea ready fur her when she goat back, although she wisnae gonnae haud her breath oan that score. She might even get time tae soak her poor feet in a basin ae salted water before heiding oot the door again. Helen smiled thinking aboot Jimmy. He wis daeing his dinger, so he wis, wae people coming tae the door at aw hours ae the day and night.
“Helen, who the hell ur aw these waifs and strays ye’ve taken oan?” he’d asked oan Friday night, efter arriving hame fae his work.
“They’re no waifs and strays. They’re jist like us, people trying tae get by.”
“Aye, bit wid ye no be better telling them tae come back wance the election is o’er?”
Helen supposed he hid a point. There wisnae much she could dae, hivving tae be oot pounding the streets. It hid aw started efter her name hid appeared in the paper efter the launch. People hid started tae accost her in the street and then started appearing up at the hoose. It hid been heart-breaking. Maist ae them wondered if she could dae anything fur them by getting in touch wae The Corporation, The Gas or Electricity Boards or the Provi-cheque Company oan their behauf. If they hidnae been in the process ae being evicted or their names being put up fur a warrant sale, then the axe wisnae very far away. She couldnae believe the extent ae some ae their debts either. She felt totally helpless and wis as honest as possible wae them. She started taking their names and addresses, promising tae get back in touch whether she won the election or no. Everywan seemed satisfied wae that. Helen goat the feeling that jist hivving somewan tae talk tae made them feel better. Some ae them hid spent Christmas and the New Year sitting huddled wae their families aroond candles, so they hid. Helen hid tae keep telling hersel tae keep her chin up. She wisnae too sure whit she’d dae if she beat JP Donnelly, bit she knew fine well that a lot ae people wur depending oan her tae gie her best. Fur some, her losing the election wid probably mean they’d end up oot oan the streets, and she wisnae prepared tae even think aboot that. As far as the election wis concerned, Helen felt the tide wis beginning tae turn in her favour, despite the well-oiled machine and manky tricks that JP and his crowd goat up tae. She wondered how Issie and Susan wur getting oan wae trying tae get some sponsorship so they could get some mair leaflets done.
“Helen! Helen, that’s you, hen,” Dizzy shouted fae doon the stairs, breaking intae her thoughts.
Helen goat up and gingerly walked tae the stairs, avoiding putting pressure oan her feet where the blisters and corns wur. She smiled. Dizzy hid goat the driver tae stoap at the junction ae Carlisle Street tae save her a walk. Her feet wid appreciate that.
Chapter Fifty Three
JP hid jist finished speaking tae the key players ae his election team when Weasel Smith popped his heid roond the door and gied him a wee nod. He wis satisfied, bit he hidnae overdone it wae his praises. He’d reminded them that they wur only hauf ae the way through the election and he didnae want them tae start becoming complacent. He’d gied them a good spiel aboot how winning the election wisnae the issue noo, as even a blind man could see that there wis nae opposition, bit it wis noo aboot margins. He’d explained that the bigger the majority he goat oan the night wid decide the amount ae spoils up fur grabs. He wanted tae maximise the message that wid be sent tae the party big-wigs doon in George Square. He telt them that, even as he spoke, the party bosses wur making room fur his arrival by looking at shifting some ae the big boys aff ae the important committees tae make room fur himsel. There hid been satisfied laughter when he’d telt them that he’d refused any overtures. He wisnae prepared tae negotiate like some wee rookie starting oot in the political game. He’d earned his spurs many times o’er and the administration knew fine well whit wis expected, if they wanted his support.
“Ooh, JP, Ah cannae wait, so Ah cannae. Ma Joe wis starting tae get a wee bit worried aboot whether he’d still be in line fur getting a job efter reading whit that Taylor bitch said in the papers last week,” Peggy Roy hid beamed oan the way past.
“You jist go through tae that bar and tell that man ae yers he’s no tae worry aboot a thing, Peggy. There will be a job waiting fur him a week efter Ah get in. Jist remind him he’ll hiv tae stay aff the drink noo. They’ve tightened up oan men drinking oan the job since Ah wis last in, so they hiv.”
“Don’t ye worry aboot that, JP. Joe’s learnt his lesson efter that last unprovoked sacking, so he his.”
JP hid deliberately waited until the room wis empty before he gied Weasel the nod tae gie Tam Barnet, The Corporation’s Democratic Election Officer, a shout tae come through fae the bar, where he’d been skoofing a pint and chomping oan a couple ae free pies while waiting fur JP’s meeting tae finish.
“JP, how ur ye daeing, ma good friend?” Tam asked, as he swanned in tae the room.
“Tam, it’s good tae see ye. Weasel, get Tam a drink, will ye?”
“Ah’ll jist hiv a wee pint ae heavy, if that’s okay, Weasel...and another wan ae they lovely pies, if there ur any mair oan the go.”
“Ah’ll hiv a Bells and a wee drap ae water in it while ye’re at it, Weasel,” JP said, motioning his good pal tae take a seat.
“So, how wis yer meeting, JP?”
“Ach, the same as usual. They’re aw good people, bit maist ae them ur as thick as two four by fours, so they ur. Ye’re always hivving tae remind them whit this is aw aboot.”
“Aye, bit withoot them, it wid be difficult tae get that auld arse ae yers oan a seat doon oan George’s Square. That’s democracy fur ye.”
“Aye, if Ah wis a nervous man, Ah widnae be able tae sleep at night if Ah knew ma future wid be dependent oan some ae the people Ah hiv tae put up wae, Ah kin tell ye.”
“So, JP, whit wis it ye wanted tae speak tae me aboot?”
“Helen Taylor.”
“Whit the hell ur ye bothering aboot her fur? Ye're wiping the flair wae her, so ye ur.”
“Aye, Ah know that, bit she comes fae a family ae persistent cows, so she dis.”
“Well, Ah’ve hid my boys oot and aboot, taking the pulse up here in Springburn. Ye really don’t hiv anything tae worry aboot, so ye don’t.”
“And?”
“The Tories and the Liberals hiv aboot five percent between them. The Nationalists and that Daft Dave, the minimum wage eejit, ur well oot ae the game, so they ur.”
“And Taylor?”
“We reckon she’s sitting wae aboot twenty per cent, wae a margin ae error ae five percent oan either side. Everything else is yours.”
“Fur Christ’s sake, Tam, ur ye telling me that Helen Taylor...that trollop...could be sitting wae twenty five percent ae the ward electorate in her purse?” JP asked incredulously.
“It’s no an exact science, JP. That’s the b
est case scenario, fur her, so it is. It’s hard tae make an educated guess, bit her sitting wae twenty five percent ae the vote wid be extremely unlikely.”
“Ah cannae believe this,” JP fumed, as Weasel brought in the drinks and a mince pie.
“And remember, JP, this is the results fae two days ago...oan Friday...that’s two days before the churches did their bit this morning. Ah’m telling ye, she’s peaked early, shot her load too soon, so she his. It’s aw doonhill fae here oan in fur the hairy.”
“And whit if she hisnae?”
“Whit?”
“Shot her load too early? Whit dae we dae then?”
“JP, Ah’m telling ye, that isnae gonnae happen. Christ, everywan doon in George Square wur up in erms efter that piece in The Echo by Bradley McLeod, so they wur...and Ah’m no jist talking aboot the wans that hiv everything tae lose if she get’s in either. Ah’m talking aboot the cleaners, doormen and the wee typists. Christ, ye wid’ve thought the devil hid announced that he wis taking up residence, so ye wid’ve. Naw, jist you concentrate oan that positive image ae yers, JP.”
“Right, let’s say, hypothetically, that she becomes a real challenge tae me. Whit’s the fall-back position?” JP asked, biting oan his bottom lip and staring at his dram.
“Wid ye jist listen tae yersel? Ah’ve awready telt ye, ye’ve nothing tae worry aboot.”
“So, there isnae a fall-back position? Ah’m telling ye, Tam, don’t underestimate this bitch. Remember, Ah’ve awready hid a run in wae her maw’s sister and that wis too close fur comfort. Ah widnae put ma worst enemy through whit that trollop put me through.”
“JP, listen tae me. That wis a different time and place...a different era, and mair importantly, a different persona. Ah knew Jeannie Smullen as well as anywan and believe you me, Helen Taylor is no a patch oan that auntie ae hers. Ye’ve awready goat the vote ae maist people who traditionally vote. She his tae try and get non-voters tae get up aff their lazy arses, so she his. That wullnae happen in a month ae Sundays up here in a place like Springburn. If it dis, it’ll be a first. Ma wee labrador, Twisted, knows mair aboot politics than she ever will. Naw, she’s jist a street rabble-rouser wae nae substance, who won’t fucking know whit’s hit her come election night. Ah’ve still goat the city’s death register lists fur Springburn covering the last two years that we decided no tae use during Dick's campaign eighteen months ago. If Mohammed should come doon fae the mountain tae lend her a haun, we’ll soon raise the deid and that’ll gie us a good thousand mair votes, at least.”
