by Ian Todd
“So, where ur they planking aw that money they’ve goat, Alex?”
“Ah, don’t know. They’re no using the auld planking place in the dipping yard behind Grafton Square because Ah went up there efter they done Criss…Ah mean, yer hoose, tae see if there wis any dosh there that Ah could find and haun in tae youse.”
“Anything else tae report then?”
“Naw, sir.”
“Right, ye kin fu...er, heid aff noo, Alex. Keep yer ears and eyes open, and we’ll talk tae ye later.”
“Aye, aw right, sirs,” Fat boy said, hesitating.
“Ur you still here? Whit is it noo?” The Sarge scowled.
“Any chance ae getting a whistle wae a chain oan the end, sir?”
“Ye kin hiv two if ye kin produce any evidence that will allow us tae nick they wee thieving basturts.”
“Okay. Thanks sir,” the singing canary sang, thumping doon the stairs, carrying a big towel under his erm.
“Whit dae ye think?”
“Ah cannae believe we’re allowing they wee shitehooses tae run aboot spending aw ma wife’s money oan crap.”
“Naw, Ah meant whit Wobbly Arse jist telt us.”
“Like whit?”
“Like, did ye see the way his eyes went intae ecstasy and they jowls ae his started drooling like a leaking rone pipe when he wis rattling aff the names ae aw they different types ae sweeties?”
“Nae wonder. Ah’m partial tae a wee Blue Riband masel. Sometimes, me and Sally will hiv wan or maybe even two, when we’re sitting watching Sunday Night at the London Palladium and we’ve goat the hoose tae oorsels, which isnae very often these days.”
“There’s something no right here.”
“Like whit?”
“Like, he only telt us whit we awready know.”
Johnboy wis feeling a wee bit nervous. He wis jist aboot tae meet some uglies fae up in Indian Territory…the wans who always beat everywan up ootside The Carlton and Casino picture hooses in Castle Street. He wis trying tae remember whit they aw looked like, apart fae being ugly and nasty wae it. It hid been Skull’s idea.
“Who’s gaun tae the swimming?”
“Ah’ll go.”
“Me tae.”
“Ah’ll need tae go hame and get ma trunks and a towel,” Johnboy hid said.
“Naw, ye don’t. We’ll get ye a pair when we get there.”
It wis only when they wur oan their way doon Parly Road, turning intae Glebe Street, heiding towards the public baths in Collins Street, that he heard Skull ask oot loud tae nowan in particular.
“Ah wonder who’ll aw be there?”
“Ur we meeting people?” Johnboy asked.
“Naw, bit some ae the Garngad crowd will probably be daeing the same as us and gaun fur a swim.”
Johnboy never said a word bit felt his stomach tighten, the closer they goat tae the baths. When they turned the corner at Mary Queen ae Scots hoose oan Castle Street, it only took him a second tae suss oot whit the score wis. There wis a queue at baith doors. Hunners ae boys and lassies wur waiting tae go in. The boys wur queuing tae go in the left door and the lassies wur queuing oan the right. He could see the uglies moving up and doon the line, stoaping every noo and again tae lean o’er and either whack somewan o’er the heid wae a rolled-up towel or tae try and cause a fight by shouting abuse at somewan else. Johnboy hid seen a programme oan the TV wance that showed ye how sheep dogs herded in aw the sheep. It wis jist like that. Sheep huddled, avoiding eye contact and the dugs running aboot, keeping them in check.
“Watch oot, boys, it’s the manky birdmen fae Alcatraz who’ve arrived tae wash the bird shite fae oot ae they ears ae theirs,” shouted a wee buck-toothed ugly wan that Johnboy remembered as being a nasty wee fucker, fae ootside The Carlton.
“Hellorerr Patsy, how ur ye daeing?”
“Aye, aye, Tony!” shouted another ugly, before turning tae growl at somewan, “Whit the fuck ur you looking at?”
“Awright, Tottie?” Tony shouted back.
Johnboy saw a couple ae his pals fae doon his end ae the Toonheid and went o’er tae talk tae them in the queue. It gied him an excuse tae keep his heid doon.
“Ah’m no really wae them, Michael,” Johnboy mumbled apologetically.
“Aye, Ah heard ye’re running aboot wae Tony Gucci and some ae his pals noo.”
“Aye, we’re fleeing the doos, so we ur. We’ve jist took o’er a cabin up the tap ae Parly Road, behind the big fag signs.”
“Aye, Flypast wis telling us,” his pal Jimmy said, nodding.
“Hiv ye goat many doos?” Michael asked, impressed.
“We’ve goat two. A wee doo and a hen, bit we’re starting tae breed them oorsels. Ye’ll need tae come up and check oot the cabin.”
“Brilliant!” they baith chorused, while glancing o’er at the carnage behind Johnboy.
Jist then, two mair uglies turned up. Wan ae them, who wis called Baby Huey...fat as fuck, wae five chins, who looked aboot fifteen bit who wis only ages wae Tony and Joe, grabbed Skull by the baws and lifted him up aff the pavement.
“Argh! Baby, ya big fat basturt, ye, let me doon,” Skull howled.
“Skull, ya wee baldy basturt, where hiv ye been hiding?”
“That wis sore, ya fat-arsed hippo, ye,” Skull growled, rubbing they baws ae his tae bring them back intae circulation.
“Ach, Ah wis only playing.”
“Listen, Ah want ye tae meet oor new pal,” Johnboy heard him say, and his heart sank.
Johnboy looked aboot fur Tony, bit he wis away o’er at the lassies’ door, busy wae that tongue ae his.
“Johnboy, c’mere a minute. Baby, this is Johnboy.”
“How ur ye daeing, wee man?
“Awright, Baby.”
“And Ah’m Patsy,” Buck Teeth said.
“How ur ye daeing?”
Baby’s mate wis o’er talking tae Tony in front ae a couple ae giggling lassies at the other door, who wur gonnae get that tongue set upon them if they didnae watch oot. Johnboy wis jist swithering aboot whether he should slip across tae warn them ae the danger they wur in, when a well-known Halloween cake face appeared oan the scene. He wis wae four ae his mates and they tried tae slip intae the queue up near the front.
“Hoi, there’s a queue aboot here, y’know.”
“Shurrup, Speccy, or ye’ll be flattened,” Johnboy heard Tarzan, the flicking finger flickerer, snarl tae a wee boy three sizes too wee fur him, who wis wearing school glasses wae an Elastoplast covering wan ae the eyes.
Johnboy never could figure oot whether Fat Boy wis jist game as fuck or as stupid as he looked. Efter his run-in wae Skull, ye wid’ve thought he’d hiv body-swerved the queue and heided hame tae swim another day. Skull’s heid swivelled roond, hivving picked up the voice, at the same time as Baby Huey held up a massive pair ae thick hame-knitted, green woollen trunks.
“Skull, Ah need a new pair ae trunks. These wans ur fucked. Ah’ve lost ma bootlace fur haudin them up. See if there’s any fat basturts in the queue.”
The timing wis bang oan. Ye couldnae hiv planned it better if ye’d tried. Baby Huey followed Skull o’er tae where Tarzan hid jist punched the poor wee four-eyed boy in the baws fur answering back tae him. He obviously thought that he wis gonnae get aff wae it.
“Haw, Fatso, haun o’er that towel and trunks.”
Fat Arse Milne swivelled roond tae face an even bigger fat arse.
“Bit, bit...”
“None ae yer ‘bit, bits’ and hurry the fuck up, Tubby,” Skull said, snatching Tarzan’s towel fae under his erm.
“Catch!” Baby Huey said, flinging the big thick green woolly trunks intae the face ae the son ae Tarzan.
“Bit how will Ah keep them fae falling doon?” Heid The Baw howled, haudin them aloft tae inspect the size ae them.
They could’ve been used as a replacement sail oan the Golden Hind, bit they wid’ve been too heavy fur the masts.
“How the funny fucking hell wid Ah know?”
Skull retorted, using words that Johnboy wis sure he’d heard somewhere before.
“If he thinks they’re bad noo, wait till he jumps in. He’ll never get aff the fucking bottom ae the pool,” Johnboy heard Baby saying tae Skull, as they walked towards him, cackling away tae themsels.
Jist then, aboot a hunner boys and lassies spilled oot ae the door wae their hair still wringing wet and clinging tae their skulls. A wee man wae nae teeth, aw dressed in white, came oot.
“Awright…ten at a time…take yer time…nae rushing,” Toothless shouted, before disappearing in amongst aw the bodies as the queue rushed forward.
“Right, let’s go, Johnboy,” Skull shouted excitedly, as Tony and Joe followed him intae the mass ae the queue where the Garngad uglies wur awready punching their way forward.
During the rush, Skull fell back and disappeared tae where the fat green submarine stood wae his four pals.
“Ah’ll hiv these, suckers,” Skull said tae them, laughing, as he grabbed their towels, wae their snazzy stripey trunks peeking oot ae the middle ae them, and threw wan each tae Johnboy, Joe and Tony.
Chapter Forty Seven
“Johnboy, Ah don’t gie a damn. Ye’re in this hoose until Ah get back,” Ma shouted at him fur the eighteenth time as he followed her aboot.
“So, how long will that be then?”
“As long as it takes.”
“Ah need tae go oot and see ma pals.”
“Ah’ve telt ye, Ah won’t be long.”
“Where ur ye aff tae?”
“Look at ma lips. Ah’m away tae a sale up oan Grafton Square.”
“That’ll take ages.”
“So whit? Whit’s yer hurry? Ye’re still no gaun oot. We’ve tae go doon tae Martha Street, tae the School Maintenance Board, wae yer sisters, tae get ye kitted oot fur school oan Monday.”
“Aw naw, Ma. Ye awready know ma sizes. Ye’ll pick oot the stuff fur me whether Ah’m there or no.”
“Ah’ve telt the lassies ye’ve tae stay in. If ye’re no here when Ah get back, ye’ll be in here the whole weekend. Don’t put me tae the test oan this, Johnboy,” she warned him.
“Bit, it’s important that Ah get oot ae here.”
“And it’s important that Ah nip up tae Grafton Square tae help oot wan ae the neighbours.”
“They’re no neighbours if they stay away up there.”
“It’s jist roond the corner, noo shut yer arse. Ah’ll be back soon. Clean they dishes that ur in the sink.”
“Whit ur youse daeing then?” Johnboy asked Norma, Anne and Isabelle as he popped his heid roond their bedroom door.
“Playing music and dancing. Dae ye want tae join in?”
“Ah’ll listen,” he said, sitting oan Norma’s bed.
“That Colin Bluntstone is a total darling, so he is,” Isabelle shouted o’er the sound ae ‘She’s No There’ by The Zombies.
“Aye, he widnae staun a chance in here, eh?” Anne said and they aw chuckled knowingly.
“Whit’s a boardwalk?” Johnboy asked, scanning through the singles.
“Somewhere where ye walk.”
“Ur ‘The Drifters’ cowboys?”
“Aye.”
“Whit dis ‘Kinks’ mean?” he asked, his heid spinning roond and roond, trying tae read the name ae the group aff the record while it wis playing.
“It’s the name ae the group.”
“Ah know that, bit whit dis ‘Kinks’ mean?”
Twenty seconds later, Johnboy wis looking oot ae his bedroom windae, watching the traffic gaun up and doon Cathedral Street. He could see the spray coming aff the back ae the lorries. A ragman sat huddled oan a horse and cart that wis trudging up towards Stirling Road, haudin up the traffic behind him. The horse hid a hat oan its napper. Johnboy could jist make oot the flowers. At least Jessie’s oot and aboot, he thought tae himsel. He lay oan his bed and tried tae read a comic. The ceiling wis thumping tae the sounds ae The Supremes’ feet, who wur aw screaming, oot ae tune, at the tap ae their voices, ‘Where Did Oor Love Go-oh?’ He wondered whit Tony, Joe and Skull wur up tae. When Tony hid come back efter catching up wae Calum and wance they’d aw settled doon, Tony hid telt them that aw it hid taken tae convince Calum wis tae talk tae him oan his ain, withoot everywan sitting there staring at him like zombies. Tony hid said that he never hid any doubt that screwing the loft wis gonnae go aheid whether Calum wis in or no. They’d hiv sorted something oot. Joe and Skull awready knew that. Johnboy thought that he wis jist saying that cause he’d caught Johnboy bubbling. Later oan, when Joe and Skull hid nipped aff tae strip the lead piping oot ae an ootside landing toilet, Tony hid telt Johnboy that he’d telt Calum whit Flypast hid said aboot Calum and Skull’s das’ involvement wae the big Horseman Thief Pouter years ago, which hid led tae Skull’s da becoming a cabbage. Calum hidnae hesitated before saying he wid dae it, as long as he knew whit the fuck he wis supposed tae dae...and he’d never even asked fur a cut ae the money they wur getting fur the doos either.
“Is that youse aff tae get yer glad rags fur school then, girls?” Betty asked Isabelle, Anne and Norma, as she came trotting oot ae Cherry’s wae a bottle ae Irn Bru tucked under her erm and a wee poke ae sweeties in her haun.
“Whit time ur you gaun doon yersel, Betty?” Ma asked.
“The letter says three o’clock, bit Ah’ll heid doon aboot hauf past two tae get in the queue.”
“Aye, we’re early oorsels. Ah cannae be bloody arsed wae aw that hinging aboot.”
“That wis a laugh this morning, wisn’t it?”
“Too right, it wis. Hopefully, they basturts won’t be back in a hurry.”
“Dae ye think the wee lassie knew whit wis gaun oan? She looked a bit confused...probably because she disnae speak any English.”
“Ah went roond tae get a couple ae tipped single fags fae Sherbet’s before Ah went up. He telt me that Maisa made sure she knew whit wis gaun oan. He never charged me fur the fags. He’s no bad that way, is he?”
“Aye, his loss the day is his profit the morra.”
“Aye, bit the lassie wis smiling when we left so Ah think she’ll be okay. Ah’ll ask Sherbet if Maisa will take us up tae see her in a few days. Sherbet says the lassie usually takes her letters roond tae Maisa when she gets wan fae The Corporation so we’ll get plenty ae warning ae when they Sheriff officers will be back.”
“Right, Ah better let youse get aff. Stan will be wondering whit’s happening. Ah hivnae been hame yet. He wis up aw night, sore efter getting that plaster aff ae his erm, so Ah’ve goat a wee bottle ae ginger and a bag ae aromatics tae cheer him up,” Betty said, wae a twinkle in her eye.
“Aye, awright, Betty…Ah’ll see ye later,” Helen replied, smiling and gieing her a wee knowing wink.
The last time Johnboy hid walked doon the street wae his ma and the lassies hid been the same time the year before, like they’d done the year before that and probably the year before that as well. They clocked the queue as soon as they turned intae John Street. Everywan Johnboy knew and some that he didnae wur aw milling aboot, waiting their turn. Wummin ae aw shapes and sizes wae their boys and lassies in tow wur aw walking up the hill towards them, carrying parcels wrapped up in broon paper, tied wae string, aw chattering wae excitement. It wis jist like Christmas, only it wis the middle ae summer. The queue stretched oot ae the door oan Martha Street, back intae John Street and aw the way doon past the door tae the registry office. Johnboy wondered oot loud if there wid be a wedding oan the go so he could get a chance tae get in aboot wae the scramble and maybe make a few pennies while they waited in the queue.
“The weddings only take place oan a Friday night and Saturday mornings,” Ma telt him.
It took aboot an hour and a hauf fur them tae reach the big store room, although it seemed like much longer, due tae the fact that Johnboy wanted tae be somewhere else. Him and the lassies spent aw their time laughing at the students coming and gaun oot ae the students’ union building across the road. Maist ae them looked aw s
erious and doon in the dumps tae Johnboy, wearing black duffle coats and stripy scarves, tramping up and doon John Street, wae ‘Beatles Fur Sale’ LPs tucked up under their ermpits.
“They’re no doon in the dumps. That’s how intellectuals look. That’s why they’re aw at University. They’re supposed tae look like that, ya eejit,” Norma, the expert, telt him.
“Is that right? Thank Christ none ae us will ever end up as intellectuals,” he’d retorted.
“Dae ye need tae hiv a bald napper tae work here?” Johnboy whispered oot loud tae his ma, as they wur ushered forward tae a row ae wee baldy men who wur aw staunin behind the coonter in broon coats wae pencils tucked behind their lugs.
“Ah heard that, Carrot-heid.”
“Don’t listen tae him. He disnae know how tae stoap babbling,” Isabelle, the sook, chipped in, hoping tae keep in wae Baldy so she could get aw the best ae clobber.
“Right, who’s next?” Baldy shouted, licking the tip ae his pencil wae his tongue.
Chapter Forty Eight
Saturday.
10.30 A.M.
“Dae ye like it then?” asked Kirsty.
“Whit is it?”
“It’s ma Sandie Shaw look,” Kirsty said, tapping her hair here and there, while trying tae see her reflection in the tobacco-stained mirror behind the optics.
Talk aboot being in the right place at the right time, she thought tae hersel. Two ae The Big Man’s gorillas, Wan-bob Broon and Peter The Plant, hid come intae the bar earlier in the week wae bad news. The fag lorry they’d hijacked wisnae full ae fags efter aw, bit full ae hair pieces...five thousand ae them, tae be precise.
“Wigs? Whit the fuck am Ah supposed dae wae five thousand Crown Toppers?” The Big Man hid shouted.
“It’s worse than that. It looks like they’re aw fur wummin,” Wan-bob hid replied.
Kirsty’s ears hid pricked up and she’d gone through tae the bar fae the storeroom.
“Kirsty, whit dae ye know aboot wigs fur wummin, hen?”
“If they’re real hair, they’ll be worth an absolute fortune. They’re aw the rage jist noo. Ah don’t know anywan that kin afford tae buy a real wan. They call them hair pieces or hair extensions in the trade. The real hair wans ur no yer cheap chats either. The human wans ur the maist sought efter due tae the fact that ye kin hot-style them, as long as they’re dry when ye apply the heat.”
