Parly Road: The Glasgow Chronicles 1

by Ian Todd

  Helen hid been considering whether tae run across and gie her a swift kick in the fanny bit hid been interrupted by her eldest, Charlie, who’d jist walked in.

  “Er excuse me, kin Ah help ye?” she’d heard the Sheriff officer saying in the lobby.

  “Fuck aff, ya prick, ye. Ah live here,” hid been the response, as Charlie’s frame filled the door, wae the officer bobbing up and doon behind him trying tae see whit wis gaun oan.

  “Ma, Ah need tae speak tae ye,” he’d said.

  “No the noo, Charlie. Ah’m jist aboot tae flair that stuck-up cow and her ugly man,” she’d replied, trying tae keep her composure.

  “Naw, seriously, come oot oan tae the landing,” he’d said, mair urgently, nodding wae his face aw screwed up and winking furiously like some dirty auld pervert.

  She’d followed him ootside oan tae the landing at the tap ae the stairwell where he turned and put his lips up tae her ear.

  “Shut the door behind ye.”

  “Charlie, whit the hell’s gaun oan? Ah cannae take much mair ae this,” she’d wept.

  “Naw, Naw, it’s nothing tae be worried aboot. Jist don’t get yer knickers in a twist when Ah gie ye this,” he’d said, and wae that, he’d lifted her haun up and put a bundle ae notes intae it.

  “Christ, Charlie!” she remembered yelping, as her voice sunk tae an even lower whisper than his.

  “There’s twenty seven quid there. Will that help ye oot?” he’d asked, looking intae her eyes, urging her no tae make a bigger scene than the wan that wis taking place up her close and in her hoose awready.

  If she wis being honest, she hidnae hesitated as the fear ae losing everything hid taken o’er her sense ae right and wrang.

  “Right, Charlie, here’s whit ye hiv tae dae. Dae ye know where the Sheriff Officers’ office is oan Bath Street?” she’d whispered tae him in a frenzy, her humiliation complete.

  “How the hell wid Ah know where that is?” he’d whispered back.

  “It’s jist opposite Clinkscale, the musical instrument shoap,” she’d screeched tae him, feeling faint at the thought that maybe aw her furniture and weans’ beds wurnae gonnae be sold fae beneath her feet efter aw.

  “Aye, Ah know exactly where ye’re talking aboot noo.”

  “Right, well, kin ye get yer legs doon there as fast as they’ll carry ye and pay aff this bill…as in like, the noo? Ah’m still no sure if it’s too late,” she’d pleaded, pulling the warrant and bill oot ae her pinny pocket, haunin him back the wad ae notes withoot hivving coonted them. “Under no circumstances dae ye leave withoot them accepting the payment. Hiv ye goat that, son?”

  “Nae bother, Ma,” he’d said, as he hoofed it doon the stairs, three at a time.

  Helen remembered ripping the warrant sale notice aff ae her front door and marching straight up tae the two Sheriff officers.

  “Right, Abbot, and you as well, Costello…ma boy his jist telt me that ma man went intae yer office first thing this morning and paid aff ma bills,” she’d announced.

  “Bit, bit...” spluttered Costello.

  “Don’t bloody ‘bit, bit’ me, ya sad specimen ae a man, ye,” she’d scowled, stuffing the crumpled notice intae his shirt pocket. “And get the hell oot ae ma hoose before ma man arrives and kicks yer arses doon they stairs.”

  The expression oan their faces when she’d gone back intae the hoose and telt them tae piss aff hid been a picture.

  “And, as fur youse, ya pair ae parasites…if Ah don’t see yer arses fleeing oot ae that door in three seconds flat, Ah’ll punch ye so fast that ye’ll think ye’re bloody-well surrounded,” she’d spat at them.

  Helen remembered detecting a wee element ae defiance fur a split second as her eyes drilled intae the eyes ae Mrs Phony Voice.

  “Come, dear. You too, children,” his noneness hid muttered, taking his missus gently by the erm, gieing her an excuse tae avert her eyes and tae focus oan Helen’s lino-covered flair.

  The coward ae the county then scurried aff wae his family in tow, trying tae catch up wae Abbot and Costello.

  “Aye, get tae hell and shut the door behind ye,” she’d shouted, bursting intae tears as they disappeared oot the door.

  Jimmy hid been oan a long distance drive doon south, so Helen and the lassies that hid been doon at the closemooth demonstrating hid chipped in fur four bottles ae Barrs Soda Water oot ae Cherries roond the corner, wae Helen supplying the PLJ fur the wans who preffered a dash ae lime and that night they’d aw hid a right laugh and a wee sing-a-long tae celebrate the near miss. She’d never brought up the subject ae the money wae Charlie and hid telt Jimmy that her maw and da hid helped them oot again. It hidnae been an easy seventeen years fur them, Helen thought tae hersel, as she picked up wan ae her three tipped singles that she’d sent Johnboy roond tae Sherbet’s fur earlier. She’d her wee part-time cleaning job in the school and that helped. Jimmy hid always worked, bit he’d left school withoot a trade tae go intae. He’d hid some right shite jobs in his time bit this wan seemed tae be working oot aw right. It hid been aboot six months since he’d been gied a start, driving wagons fur Morrison’s Removals and although the money wisnae great, he seemed tae like it. It hid been a ‘hifty’ case when they’d goat married as she’d goat pregnant aboot four weeks efter they’d started gaun oot thegither. It hid nearly killed the auld wans. It wis jist as well she hidnae been showing at the registry office doon in Martha Street or they widnae hiv shown up. Her maw hid said, in way ae an apology, that Helen hid tae understaun how hurt her da felt, given that she wis their only child. Efter that, the weans hid started shooting oot like flying ducks, year oan year. The first tae arrive oan the scene hid been Charlie. Then it wis the lassies turn…Isabelle, Anne and Norma in quick succession. By the fourth wan, Helen hid hid enough. She’d spoken tae Pat Broon, The Green Lady, and they’d sorted oot a foolproof strategy. Jimmy hid telt everywan in The Grafton Bar that this consisted ae her jumping up an doon fur hauf an hour oan a pogo stick every time they hid a ride. By the time Johnboy arrived, sixteen months efter Norma, Helen wis definitely no coping. Charlie, though only seven, wis awready getting intae trouble and no only wae his granda. He wis getting slung oot ae school regularly fur fighting boys two sizes too big fur him. Helen wis never away fae the school board offices doon in George Street aboot his behaviour, right up until the time that JP Donnelly sent him tae approved school at age twelve, fur knocking oot Batty Smith, the heidmaster ae his primary school.

  Helen remembered greeting when she saw the fifth wean wis another boy. “There’s no way he’s getting aff wae anything. He’s getting kept oan a short lease, this wan.”

  “Ah’m sure he’ll be a wee darling, hen. Don’t ye worry aboot a thing. Charlie is a wan aff, so he is,” Jimmy hid said.

  “Aye, well, we’ll see soon enough,” she’d said tae him at the time.

  Up until recently, Johnboy seemed tae hiv turned oot okay. He certainly wisnae a patch oan his aulder brother, Charlie, considering whit Charlie hid goat up tae at Johnboy’s age, bit this carry oan wae Thompson and Crisscross disturbed her. Coming oan the back ae being expelled fae school fur refusing tae accept the belt fae Batty, she wondered if he wis being led astray by some aulder boys. He hidnae been hinging aboot wae his usual pals either. She’d been speaking tae Ina McLeod who’d said that she hidnae seen Johnboy roond at her hoose fur ages. When Ina hid asked her Ian aboot it, he’d said that Johnboy hid new pals noo. Helen thought aboot aw the wee things that hid been happening o’er the past month that she’d let pass at the time and decided that she’d need tae keep her wits aboot her and her ears pinned tae the ground o’er the next wee while. It wis aboot time that Johnboy goat a wee dose ae tough love tae help him buck up his ideas.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Listen tae this,” Granda said, reading The Glesga Echo oot loud. “‘Polis Constables Jinty Jobson and Christopher Cross hiv been awarded The Glesga Corporation Medal fur bravery,’ writes oor sleuth crime reporter, Pat Roller.
”

  “Crisscross and Jobby?”

  “‘The brave constables intervened in an armed robbery oan a tobacconist’s oan St James Road at the beginning ae June. Efter a spectacular and well co-ordinated chase up McAslin Street, Toonheid, they confronted two ae the robbers in the back close ae The McAslin Bar where wan ae them pulled oot a metal bar and scudded PC Jobson oan the side ae the heid.’”

  “Fur goodness sake. Ur they okay?”

  “It says here, ‘PC Jobson suffered concussion and hid tae get five stitches in his heid and PC Cross suffered trauma.’”

  “Ah’m no meaning that broon-arse Jobby or that skelly-eyed eejit, Crisscross. Ah’m meaning the robbers,” she said, looking at him as if he wis stupid.

  “See, that’s the problem noo-adays. Everywan thinks ae the criminals and no the poor victims.”

  “Ah am thinking ae the poor victims. Ah bet ye the poor robbers wur in a worse state than that pair ae nincompoops when they appeared up in court.”

  “That’s ma point. Whit if it wis wan ae us or the grandweans that hid been caught up in something like this, eh? Wid we no be glad that Jobby and Crisscross put themsels oan the line tae sort it oot?”

  “Ah’m no saying we don’t need the polis…bit, let’s be honest…Jobby and Crisscross? Ye’ve said yersel many times that they’re nothing bit bloody crooks.”

  “See, ye’re falling intae the auld trap, aren’t ye?”

  “Whit trap wid that be then?”

  “Ye’re personalising it.”

  “Ah’m no personalising it. The only thing Ah know aboot that pair is whit ye’ve telt me.”

  “Whit ur ye oan aboot?”

  “Ah’m oan aboot how they’ve helped themselves, many a time, tae fags and booze fae the shoaps that hiv been broken intae, when they’ve been called oot tae the scene ae the crime.”

  “Aye, bit...”

  “Don’t ‘aye, bit’ me. Ye telt me yersel that a lot ae the shoapkeepers that ye’ve delivered Irn Bru tae hiv said that they don’t mind getting broken intae by honest crooks...”

  “Aye, bit...”

  “...bit they get really pissed aff if the polis arrive at their shoap before them because they usually get cleaned oot.”

  “Aye, Ah admit, Ah did say that. That wis the rumour that wis gaun aboot at the time,” he managed tae get in.

  “It wisnae a rumour, ya squirming toad, ye. Don’t try and wangle yer way oot ae this wan. Ye telt me Holy Pants turned up at his grocer’s shoap tae find that big Sergeant-whitever-his-name-is...”

  “Jim Stewart.”

  “...wis staunin wae the back door ae the Black Maria open, while his sidekick, Sergeant-whitever-his-name-is..”

  “Liam Thompson.”

  “…wis staunin supervising Bill ‘n’ Ben emptying his shelves ae aw his good tins ae Auld Oak Ham.”

  “Naw, naw, whit Ah said wis that that’s whit it looked like tae Holy,” he retorted, puffing oot his chest indignantly at even the slightest suggestion that he might’ve goat it wrang.

  “Yer arse said that. Ye said that Jobby’s arse wis up a ladder, haunin doon the stuff tae Sergeant-whitever-his-name-is...”

  “Thompson.”

  “...while at the same time, the squinty wan wis haunin o’er aw his good duck eggs and fresh butter pats o’er the coonter tae Sergeant-whitever-his-name-wis.”

  “Stewart.”

  “Aye, Stewart, that’s the wan,” she said, enjoying hersel.

  “Ye’ve missed the point ae whit Ah wis trying tae say, wummin,” he coontered, feigning exasperation, trying tae nip in wae a wee cheeky south paw seconds before receiving the blinding sucker-punch.

  “And whit wis it that Big Sergeant Thompson said tae Holy when Holy popped his heid intae the back ae the Black Maria and clocked it hauf full ae aw his good stuff? ‘Aye Holy, we’re taking this away as evidence.’”

  “Ye clearly don’t know the first thing aboot polis work. Of course they need tae take stuff away fur evidence,” he said, hinging aff the ropes in a daze.

  “Aye, right, Sherlock. Anyway, never mind aw that. Whit else dis it say?” she asked wae mock encouragement.

  “Ah’ll carry oan only if ye don’t interrupt wae aw that pish ye’re coming oot wae.”

  “Hurry up…Ah’ve no goat aw night,” she said, smiling.

  “It goes oan tae say that PC Chri...Crisscross ‘applied first aid tae PC Jobson at the scene efter he lost consciousness while at the same time haudin oan tae wan ae the struggling vicious thugs.’”

  “Ah’m finding aw this hard tae believe. Don’t get me wrang, Ah could see some polis daeing aw this, bit Ah find it jist too much fur ma simple brain tae accept that they pair ae thickos could ever catch a bus, never mind a crook.”

  “‘Sergeant Liam Thompson, alang wae Sergeant Jim Stewart, who also received the chief constable’s commendation fur arresting wan ae the robbers, said he wis proud tae serve o’er PC Chr...Crisscross and that local joint leadership under him and Sergeant Stewart meant that the good folk in the Toonheid kin sleep easy in their beds at night.’”

  “Pish!”

  “Look, there’s a photo.”

  Granny nipped aroond the table and peered doon at the page and burst oot laughing.

  “Aw, fur goodness sake, Ah think Ah’m gonnae hiv tae go and pee in the sink, it’s so funny. Ah’ll never make it oot tae the cludgie oan the landing in time,” she howled. “That’s a wanted poster if ever Ah saw wan. And they eyes ae Crisscross’s…ye wid’ve thought they wid’ve substituted him wae somewan else, jist fur the photo,” she said, as she burst intae hysterics again.

  Granda looked doon at the photo. Included in it wur the chief constable, a chief inspector and JP Donnelly, staunin in fur The Provost. JP wis haundin o’er the medals while the two sergeants wur staunin wae their paper commendations held up oan either side ae the group, looking as sick as a pair ae parrots because aw they goat wis a piece a paper and no the metal jewellery. At first glance, it looked like a nice wee presentation photo, until yer eyes wur taken prisoner and transfixed oan the wan wae Crisscross accepting his medal.

  “Aye, it’s true whit they say…photos don’t lie. Dae ye think he’s looking straight at the camera or at somebody who’s jist walked intae the room aff the street?” Granda asked drily.

  “Stoap it, ye’re cracking me up,” Granny hooted, heiding intae another fit.

  “Dae ye want tae hear the rest or is this too much excitement fur wan year?”

  “Carry oan, Alistair Cook. This is bloody brilliant, so it is.”

  “‘Wan ae the thugs his awready been sentenced tae twenty eight days detention fur aiding and abetting in the robbery, while the other wan is oan remand fur the mair serious charge ae assault wae a deadly weapon. Due tae their age, we cannae print their names bit, suffice tae say, the streets ae the Toonheid ur much safer the night as a result ae these brave, dedicated officers.’”

  “Ah cannae wait tae speak tae Helen. That photo is bloody stoating, so it is.”

  “‘Local cooncillor, JP Donnelly, said the war oan crime in the Toonheid will continue until decent folk kin go aboot their lawful business withoot fear ae being robbed and ripped aff.’ And that’s that,” he said, putting doon the paper.

  “Whit dae ye think ye’re daeing? Read that tae me again, bit gie me a swatch ae that photo wan mair time, before ye dae.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday

  It should’ve been plain sailing that week fur Johnboy, Tony and Skull. Everywan in the school wis pishing themselves wae excitement at the thought ae breaking up fur the summer holidays. Even Olive Oyl wis in good spirits that Monday morning…fur aboot three minutes at least.

  “Right, listen up.”

  No-wan listened, as usual.

  “Quiet!”

  Some ae the class listened.

  “Seeing as it’s the last week of the term and the school closes at lunch time on Friday, you can all come to school in fancy dress
that day,” she said, aw nun-like, looking tae the heavens as if she wis daeing them aw a favour.

  Aw the lassies started squealing and talking at a hunner mile an hour in wee groups, whispering excitedly. Johnboy thought he’d test the water, seeing as she wis in a good mood, so he stuck his haun up.

  “Yes, Taylor?”

  “Please Miss, kin Ah come as a tramp?”

  “So, you’ll not be bothering to put in any special effort then, Taylor,” she’d retorted, steel in that voice ae hers.

  Johnboy wisnae too sure whit she meant by that, bit by the tone ae that squeaky voice ae hers, he sussed oot that she didnae want tae play, so he wis soon in a deep sleep, sitting wae his eyes wide open, wae no a care in the world. Fur a while in class, he’d been a wee bit restless first thing in the mornings, trying tae hiv his first kip. It hid taken him a couple ae days tae work oot that since Skull hid started sitting behind him, his concentration hid gone aw tae pot because ae Skull’s continuious farting, fidgeting and snoring. Tony hid telt Johnboy that the quickest way tae hit sleepsville wis tae think ae fannies, fat arses and big paps. Tony hid said that if he did that, nothing wid interrupt him, apart fae the teacher’s drone in the background shifting up and doon the gears, getting his hard-on stuck at an angle in his troosers when he nodded aff sideways or Barbara Windsor coming intae the class and sitting oan his lap. Given that Johnboy didnae know any ae the lassies in Tony’s class, Johnboy reckoned that trying tae picture Barbara Windsor wis oot, and as he’d never seen any fannies, fat arses or big paps in the flesh, it wid be hard tae picture whit he wis supposed tae be imagining. He thought that wan ae Tony’s suggestions wis close enough though. Johnboy wid sit there dreaming aboot how him and Senga could heid doon tae the weddings in Martha Street oan a Friday night and Saturday morning and then go and spend aw the money that they’d collected fae the scrambling ae the coins in Cherry’s sweetie shoap oan Cathedral Street. They’d even share whit they’d collected and Johnboy wid protect her fae aw the big boys who wid be doon at the weddings, baw-deep, wae feet flying, trying tae grab the tanners and silver thrupenny bits that wur being slung oot ae the wedding car by the happy couple as it shifted up a gear. Another good wan wis where they’d go oan holiday wae their mas and das and Johnboy wid get tae see her and talk tae her every day withoot her pals. Wance he goat the knack, Skull could’ve shat his breeks five times in five minutes and it still widnae hiv budged him oot ae his open-eyed, shut-eye sessions.