by Todd, Ian
“Helen, why the hell ur ye worried aboot the Tories and Liberals ferrying people back and forth tae the polling station, eh? They might hiv the wheels, bit hiv ye come across any Tory or Liberal voters so far in this election? Ah know Ah hivnae.”
“We might no hiv the wheels, bit it shouldnae stoap us offering tae take people doon tae the polling station oorsels.”
“Oh, and another thing, Helen. Why don’t we put thegither a wee slip ae paper and haun them oot at the gates so that some ae they people ye mentioned who might hiv problems in reading or writing know whit tae look oot fur when they put the cross beside yer name?” Sharon Campbell hid suggested.
“Bloody brilliant, Sharon. Seeing as maist ae us hivnae a bloody clue whit tae dae oorsels, it wid gie us a wee steer as well, oan whit tae dae when we get there, so it wid,” Ann Jackson hid chimed, smiling.
Fur Helen, that hid been wan ae the highlights ae the election. No matter how stupid or daft people’s ideas hid sounded at the time, aw the wummin hid been up fur it. Some ae the ideas hid stood the test and hid worked, like haunin o’er wee flyers tae Dizzy Gillespie oan her bus route. Dizzy couldnae get enough ae them. Issie’s Wee Mary and her pal hid gone up tae Dizzy’s hoose every night, tae see if she needed a stock-up. Even though Johnboy hid been naewhere tae be seen, he’d spoken tae Billy McCrae and Terry Marshall, a couple ae the local milkmen, who’d agreed tae put pamphlets through people’s doors, while oot oan their milk deliveries roond the area. There wur hauf a dozen streets that they didnae cover, bit Pearl and her pals hid taken care ae that. Other ideas, like trying tae get Pete The Postie tae shove pamphlets through the doors oan his travels, hidnae goat aff the ground. Betty hid caught him dumping a pile ae pamphlets intae a midden bin wan morning and hid threatened tae punch his lights oot. Putting up posters hid been a waste ae time due tae JP’s crowd ripping them doon, although pasting wee mini posters oan the back seat ae the tap deck ae the buses that travelled through Springburn seemed tae hiv worked, despite auld Mary Flint and Elaine Hinky being threatened by a big bus inspector tae hiv their free bus passes withdrawn if he caught them at it again. The big bugger’d hid the cheek tae confiscate their tin ae flour paste and their wan-inch paint brush as he’d slung their arses aff the bus up at the terminus oan Hawthorn Street.
Before hitting Springburn Road earlier, Helen hid gone roond by Sharon’s tae see how Pearl wis daeing. She’d been in a helluva state, so she hid. Poor Pearl hidnae been aware ae whit hid happened tae Mary and hid heided intae her work as per usual. She hidnae hid a clue why people wur gieing her funny looks when she turned up fur work. She’d been sitting, working away at her desk oan the ‘Mother’s Little Helpers’ story fur aboot an hour and a hauf and when Mary hidnae showed up, she’d decided tae phone Mary at hame. It wis Susan Flaw that hid picked up the phone. When Pearl hid asked her if Mary wis aboot, there hid been a long silence before Susan hid asked her if she’d heard the news.
“Whit News?”
“Pearl, where are you?” Susan hid asked her.
“At work. Why?”
“Pearl, I’m heading into town. Can you meet me at the front door of The Echo? I’ll only be about ten minutes. I need to talk to you,” Susan hid said.
“Aye, nae problem. Ah’ll jist finish aff whit Ah’m daeing. See ye soon,” Pearl hid said, and hung up.
Sharon hid telt Helen that Susan hid jumped intae the car and heided intae the toon, dreading that somewan wid say something tae Pearl before Susan goat there. When she’d turned intae Hope Street fae the Argyle Street end, she’d been relieved tae see Pearl staunin, smoking a fag, between the newsagent’s and the main entrance ae The Echo beside the bus stoap. Ootside the newsagent’s, there wis a wee billboard wae a poster oan it, alerting the passing world that wan ae Scotland’s tap journalists hid been found hanged. Efter Pearl hid goat intae the car, Susan hid heided up tae Glesga Cathedral and parked up the car. They’d heided across tae The City Café oan Castle Street. The only people in the place hid been a young nurse sitting haudin the hauns ae Susan’s gynaecologist, who wis aboot twice the young nurse’s age, and the auld dear behind the coonter. Sharon said that, at first, Pearl hidnae taken in whit Susan wis telling her, and then she’d jist crumbled and burst oot greeting. The auld dear fae behind the coonter hid arrived at their table and hid silently haunded o’er a dishtowel tae Susan fur Pearl tae use tae wipe her eyes. It wis obvious that the waitress hid probably hid tae dae this many times in the past, seeing as the café wis opposite The Royal. Susan hid then taken Pearl hame. In the car, Pearl hid confessed tae Susan, through her sobs, that her and Senga Jackson hid been tae blame because it hid been her and Senga that hid goat Mary intae trouble o’er the social worker spread. She’d telt Susan whit her and Senga hid done. Susan hid explained tae her that whit they’d done hid been wonderful and kind, bit Susan wisnae convinced that Pearl hid fully taken that oan board.
When Helen hid arrived up at Sharon’s, Pearl hid sobbed in Helen’s erms fur a full ten minutes. It hid been heart-wrenching. Sharon hid apologised and said she’d try and get oot later oan tae dae a bit ae canvassing, bit thought it better tae hing aboot the hoose tae comfort Pearl meantime. Helen hid felt bad aboot leaving Sharon tae it, bit baith Sharon and Pearl hid insisted that Helen should get oot there and dae her bit.
Helen hid decided tae spend the day gaun roond the wee groups who wur oot canvassing. She’d spent a hauf an hour wae auld Bob Henderson and John McGuigan, Charlie Mann’s partners in crime. It hid been hilarious. The pair ae them hid been hinging aboot at the corner ae Keppochhill Road and Springburn Road, in front ae the butcher’s shoap, jist opposite the fire station. Bob hid been gieing it big licks oan a mooth organ, while John hid been staunin oan an auld wooden upturned Barr’s Irn Bru crate, singing aw the auld songs at the tap ae his creaky voice. In between songs, they’d been expounding the vestal virtues ae Helen. During the time she wis wae them, they’d always hid a laughing, foot tapping crowd roond aboot them. They’d made her sound like a cross between the Virgin Mary and Boadicea, so they hid. She’d spoken tae them aboot poor auld Charlie no being aboot tae attend the coont later oan. They’d awready heard that Donald Flaw hid managed tae track him doon. He’d been shipped up tae Stobhill and then across tae Gartnavel Hospital before ending up in Foresthall Hospital, fur some obscure reason. Donald Flaw hid been true tae his word and hid promised no tae let him slip aff ae the radar again. When she’d left them, The Two Comrades hid burst intae ‘The Internationale.’
Oan the way alang Springburn Road tae the hairdressers, she’d bumped intae The Stalker and wan ae his PC Shiny Button gofers. She’d been gonnae sling him a deafy oan the way past, bit he’d managed tae block her path withoot it being too obvious.
“Helen, how ur ye daeing the day, hen?”
“Aye, no bad,” she’d replied pleasantly enough.
“And whit dae ye think yer chances ur? Ah’ve heard ye’re breathing doon JP’s neck, so Ah hiv.”
“Aye, well, nae thanks tae the likes ae youse,” she’d retorted, cursing hersel fur the cheek.
“Ah’m sure Ah hivnae a clue whit ye’re suggesting, so Ah don’t.”
“Aye, well, there ye go.”
“Ah’ll still need tae get that beer cloth back tae ye. Ah’ve goat it in ma desk, aw washed and folded. Ah keep furgetting tae drap it aff, so Ah dae,” he’d said.
“Ah’ve telt ye, you jist haud oan tae it, Paddy...ye’ll probably need it mair than me, tae soak up the tears aff ae they eyes ae yers, if Ah get in,” she’d said, pleasantly, no being able tae contain hersel.
“Look, Helen, Ah jist wanted tae say sorry aboot that carry-oan wae Sergeant Kennedy the other week there. We’re no aw like him. Ah’ve awready gied him a bollicking, so Ah hiv...hiven’t Ah, Biscuit?”
“Melted his ears, so he did,” Biscuit hid agreed.
“Aye, well, if that’s the cheek candidates kin expect fae the polis, whit chance hiv aw the rest goat, eh?”
“Aye, Ah k
now. Anyway, Ah better let ye get oan. Ye’ve obviously goat a busy day aheid ae ye,” The Stalker hid said, as they’d moved aff…before being stoapped in their tracks.
“So, how’s that official complaint ae mine progressing?” Helen hid asked, turning back and looking at him.
“Oh, er, it’s funny ye should ask that, bit Ah wis jist talking tae Superintendent Jackson aboot it this morning. It’s coming alang. Ah’m sure ye’ll be hearing something back soon.”
“Aye, well, ye jist mind and tell that Daddy wan that Ah hivnae furgoatten aw aboot it, so Ah hivnae,” Helen hid reminded him, pushing open the door ae Harry’s salon.
Efter coming oot ae Harry’s, Helen hid caught up wae Senga Jackson and aw her pals up at the train station haunin oot leaflets tae aw the passengers coming and gaun. Senga wis wearing her nurse’s uniform, although her skirt hid looked awfully short.
“Ur ye sure ye’re supposed tae be wearing that uniform when ye’re oot touting fur votes, Senga?”
“Ach, who’s gonnae know?” she’d replied wae a big grin oan her face, nodding tae the other lassies.
Mary Gallagher wis dressed up as Little Bo Peep, Paula Baker wis Cruella Deville in a micro mini-skirt, Frances Smith wis Diana Rigg fae ‘The Avengers,’ Jessie Humphrey and Jean Maguire wur a couple ae sexy Flowerpot Men, bit it wis Aggie McCoy and Helen Birnie, wae their big bosoms bursting oot tae aw and sundry, who wur decked oot in sexy WPC uniforms, including black stockings and suspenders, that hid gied Helen the biggest laugh.
“Christ, Ah met that Stalker wan earlier oan. Ah’m surprised he hisnae been up here tae lift them fur impersonating the polis, so Ah am,” Helen hid said tae Senga, nodding across at the lassies hooting and laughing tae the sounds ae cars, vans and buses tooting their horns oan the way past.
“Ach, a widnae worry aboot that, Helen. Ah think we’ve hid hauf the dicks fae the polis station doon here four times in the last hour, ogling us, so we hiv,” Helen Birnie hid shouted across tae her, as a polis car honked oan the wae past wae two grinning polis in it efter she gied them a flash ae her frilly black-knickered arse.
“So, where did aw the fancy costumes come fae then?” Helen hid asked them.
“Jake McAlpine goat them fur us. Don’t ask me where,” Mary hid replied.
“So, whit’s happened tae that boy ae mine then, Senga?” Helen hid enquired.
“Johnboy? Oh, he’s aboot. Him and Silent hiv moved intae a flat roond in Heim Street, so they hiv.”
“Well, if ye see him, will ye tell him tae take a run up tae see me and that da ae his? Jimmy’s picked up a fancy wee glass fish ornament as a hoose-warming present fur him, so he his.”
“Aye, Ah will.”
Helen hid hung aboot wae the girls fur a while before heiding back doon towards Gourlay Street tae meet up wae Isabelle, Anne and Norma in the Princes Café next door tae the bingo hall. Before she’d left the lassies at the station, she’d spoken tae Senga aboot Pearl. Senga hid said she’d been up tae see Pearl earlier and her and the lassies wur gonnae go roond and see if they could drag her oot later, tae take her mind aff ae whit hid happened tae her boss.
“That Mary wan didnae strike me as being the suicidal type, even though she wis clearly manic, so she wis. It’s a bloody shame...and such a waste,” Senga hid said.
“Aye, Ah heard ye’d met her,” Helen hid said, as Senga quickly changed the subject.
Efter meeting up wae her daughters, Helen hid spent a couple ae hours up at the NAB and The Burroo oan Springburn Road. There hid been aboot five ae the lassies ootside each ae the entrances. Helen hid felt so proud ae them and hid burst intae tears at wan stage.
“Aw, don’t you start. Ah’ve jist come fae a morning ae bubbling at hame, so Ah hiv,” Sharon hid chided her, gieing Helen a hug.
Sharon hid said that she’d hid tae escape. Aw the lassies in their fancy costumes hid converged oan her hoose and hid made her feel frumpy wae aw that teenage bare flesh hinging oot aw o’er her good living room.
By the time nine o’clock at night hid come roond, Helen hid been aboot dying oan her feet. Everywan hid called it a day, apart fae the shifts that wur covering the entrances tae the polling stations. It hid been agreed that that wid continue straight up until ten o’clock.
By the time she wis able tae sit doon, put her feet up and eat wan ae Salty Tony’s fish suppers, she felt better. Although nervous, she couldnae wait until the coont. She looked aboot the living room. Everywan wis getting tucked intae whitever they hid ordered oot ae the chip shoap. Tony, another Toonheid refugee, hid refused payment fur the suppers, despite threats fae Helen. The smell ae malt vinegar and the silence, while everywan tucked in tae their suppers in their Echo and Citizen newspaper wrappers, balancing oan their knees, wis bliss.
Chapter Seventy Eight
“Fur Christ’s sake, Ma. Ur ye no ready yet?” Norma demanded, coming through tae the bedroom.
“Look, whit’s yer hurry? They said the coont widnae be in tae nearer twelve o’clock. It’s only quarter tae eleven,” Helen said, looking across at the clock oan Jimmy’s side ae the bed.
“Bit, we’re aw ready...apart fae you, that is. Hurry up, will ye,” she whinged, stomping oot ae the bedroom.
Helen finished putting oan her mascara. She stood up and went through tae the packed living room.
“Look, aw youse, heid doon tae the halls jist noo. Ah’ll be another ten tae fifteen minutes, so Ah will.”
“Look, don’t listen tae them, Helen. We’ll wait until ye’re ready, so we will. Whit’s yer hurry anyway, Norma?” Jimmy grumbled.
“Jimmy, get them aw gaun. Ah’ll be doon at yer back, so Ah will. Ah could be daeing wae a wee break tae masel, so Ah could. Ah’ve tae put the rest ae ma make-up oan and then Ah’m gonnae hiv a wee cup ae tea and a fag tae settle ma nerves. Go!”
Efter they’d gone, Helen went back through tae the bedroom and sat looking at hersel in the dressing table mirror. She slid open the tap drawer and fumbled under her pile ae brassieres, knickers and tights, until her fingernails managed tae hook themsels under the edge ae the patch ae wallpaper she’d lined the drawer wae. She lifted oot the broon envelope that hid Mary Marigold’s name oan it and hesitated, before slowly opening it and lifting oot the two photos. The first wan wis pretty disgusting looking. It wis a black and white photo ae the tap ae a wummin’s bare-naked thighs. Although ye could only see the lower hauf ae her body, the wummin in the photo wis Big Patricia Paterson, wan ae the wummin she’d met in Gateside prison back in 1965 when she’d been remanded by JP fur her involvement in the fight wae the polis at a warrant sale up in John Street. Although a mother ae seven weans, Big Pat hid been a lady ae the night fur o’er ten years by the time Helen hid met her. As she’d goat aulder, tae haud oan tae her regular customers, Big Pat hid started allowing them tae sign their name oan her body wae a pen before getting the signature tattooed o’er. Her body hid been covered in them. At the time, it hid been the maist disgusting thing Helen hid ever come across in her life, although, wance ye goat tae know Pat, ye soon found oot that she wis a living angel, wae a heart ae gold. Big Pat hid been wan ae the driving forces behind setting up a letter-writing support network amongst the female prisoners, who could read and write, fur those that couldnae. They’d found Pat’s body dumped beside the railway line across in Partick in 1967. Helen hid realised it wis Pat when she came across her name in the paupers’ column ae the death notices in The Evening Times, while she wis checking oot the warrant sales lists fur that week. Helen hid travelled across tae The Linn cemetery in Castlemilk fur her funeral. She hidnae realised that efter getting aff the bus, she’d hiv tae walk a further two miles tae the cemetery gates. It hid been raining and blowing a gale. When she’d eventually reached the grave, there hid jist been her, the minister and the two grave diggers present. The minister hid been surprised tae see her. He’d asked Helen if she’d like tae say a few words, bit Helen hid declined and hid stood there greeting at the injustice ae it aw. Big Pat’s wea
ns hid been naewhere tae be seen. She looked doon. JP Donnelly’s tattooed signature oan the tap ae Big Pat’s bare-arsed thighs stared up at her. The other photo hid come through the post when her and Jimmy wur still living in Montrose Street in the Toonheid. There hidnae been a letter wae it, bit she’d known that it hid come fae Big Pat. This wan wis in colour and it hid JP lying slouched oan a couch, naked, wearing nothing bit a nappy, a bib and a baby’s bonnet oan that heid ae his. He wis sucking oan a plastic dummy-tit. In a lot ae ways, this wan wis mair disgusting than the wan wae Big Pat’s naked arse oan show. How could anywan want tae brand another human being, she wondered in disgust, peering doon at JPs face. Big Pat hid telt her that JP hid been wan ae her regulars and demanded punishment fur being naughty efter he’d been trussed up in a giant nappy. JP hid sneered at her when they’d bumped intae each other doon in Vulcan Street earlier in the campaign when she’d tackled him aboot his dirty tricks. He’d telt her politics wis a dirty business and if she couldnae staun the heat, then she should get oot ae the kitchen. Soiled Sally and Sharon Campbell hid hid tae haud her back fae strangling the auld git, as him and his pals, Haddock Broon and Peter Dawson hid stood there laughing at her, staunin at the back ae their van, haunin oot their plentiful, professional, coloured posters and leaflets, tae aw their male supporters fae The Journeyman’s Club. When Mary Marigold hid asked her whit she’d dae if JP goat elected, she’d telt her aboot Big Pat and the photos. Mary hid laughed and telt her that Harold Sliver wid be the man tae talk tae. Efter the shenanigans ae the past month or so, she at last fully understood whit JP wis talking aboot …although it hid taken her a wee while. Well, whitever happened at the coont later oan, wan thing wis fur certain, JP Donnelly wisnae gonnae be allowed tae rip-aff and sell Springburn doon the pan…the way that he hid in the Toonheid. If it wis dirty business in politics JP wanted, then Helen wid see how he’d get oan efter she’d haunded o’er the photos tae Harold Sliver. Ah’ll gie the auld basturt dirty politics, she thought, smiling, slipping the envelope back under the wallpaper and closing the drawer, as she looked at hersel in the mirror wan last time, before staunin up tae slip oan Norma’s red high heels.
