by A D Evans
Just as he was leaving the premises, he decided to take a few bars of chocolate. He lifted a box of dairy milk, (his favourite) Lo and behold there tucked neatly inside was a bundle of cash. When it was later counted there was forty two thousand pounds. The shop owner had sold the shop on that very day to an Indian guy, and the new owner had paid the asking price in cash. As he was too late to go to the bank the shopkeeper assumed it would be more secure to leave it in the safety of his locked shop. The owner had intended clearing out his stock the next morning. A bad mistake when the Frankie boy was around. The bastard is so jammy that if he fell in the Clyde, he would come out with a new suit and a salmon in his mouth. He always added a bit on to that saying. It would be smoked salmon, as I don't like the fresh stuff. Aye sometimes he was a good laugh. The next week after the break-in, he met the sergeant in the street; he went over to him and in a stage whisper said,
‘Cheers sarge, thanks for the tip off about the wee shop. I’ll see if I can give you a few bob once the heat from the polis dies down a wee bit’
The sergeant went purple with rage, but was unable to do anything about it. He leaned forward and said to Frankie in a low voice,
‘Get out of my town, you Glesga bastard’
He replied in a loud voice.
‘Sorry sarge but I can’t do any more wee jobs for you just now. As I need to go home to the big city’
Fiona sat in her Chair getting more uncomfortable by the minute. Her mind kept wandering back to her ex husband. Most people liked him, and sure they had warned her about him, but they liked him for his cheek and his generosity to anyone who was down on their luck. He was known to be a bit of a ladies man, and would charm all the old dears in their local pub. If he could have left it at the old dears they would maybe still be together, but he had a roving eye when it came to women.
She had first met him in a pub he helped to run in Maryhill. He was the manager and his best pal the notorious Paul Lynch owned it. She had liked him right from the first minute she saw him. He had the looks of a Hollywood film star and the patter of a Barras salesman. The first thing he had said to her made her laugh.
‘Hello there gorgeous. Do you want a drink, or would you just like to stand there for a few more minutes admiring this Adonis that’s been sent by the gods to take your order?’
She and her mate had spent the evening in the pub, and every time she went to the bar he was right over to her. One time he had been serving a regular punter when she had approached. He stopped pulling the punters pint, and said to him in a loud voice,
‘Excuse me auld yin, but I’ll have to go and serve my future wife’
At the end of the night, he had asked her to go to a party at Paul’s house, and she had readily agreed to this. Fiona and her pal Grace were a bit apprehensive being in the company of Paul Lynch, but with a few vodka and cokes the edge was taken of there uneasiness. The party was in Paul’s house at Cleavden Drive. Her and her pal had never seen a house like it in their lives. This was the type of house you only normally saw on television .The decor was very tastefully done in pastel colours. This was not your usual painter and decorator job. This was interior design at the top end of the market. The main room was sumptuous, with hanging drapes of light gold silk, which probably cost more than Fiona earned in a year working at her office job. Her pal Grace, who was a buxom blonde made a beeline for Paul who seemed to like her. A while later they drifted away from the others to go do what adults who fancy each other do. Frankie was a pure gentleman for most of the night, but when she hinted that it was time for her to go; he tried to persuade her to accompany him to one of the bedrooms. She made a grand pretence at rejecting him, but after an hour or so gave in to his advances and stayed the night.
Things had been great between her and Frankie, she loved him to bits, and he appeared to be the same concerning her. She gave up her office job and started working in the pub. There were plenty of party nights, especially when Paul was about. She got to know him quite well, and liked him. He had a ready sense of humour, and was always buying her little gifts when they were out socialising. She didn't think of him as the monster he was portrayed to be. When she had found out that she was pregnant, Frankie was over the moon. They were married at Martha Street registry office as soon as they could get a date. Paul was obviously the best man, and Big Grace was her best maid. The wedding was a quiet affair with just the four of them attending. Paul insisted on buying them a house and all the things that are required for a new baby as a wedding present. The house he purchased for them was in Kelvinside, it was an old style villa, and she fell in love with it immediately. They spent many weeks getting it just the way they wanted it, and she was so happy.
It was just after their daughter Alyson was born that she found out about Frankie’s affair with one of his bar staff. It had started with an anonymous phone call from some malicious bastard in the pub. When she had confronted him with the story, he had vehemently denied it. She had went to the pub and spoken to the accused female. She did not deny it, and in fact told her that Frankie was going to leave her, and move in to a flat with her.
She was shocked, but she knew what to do. Her own father had been a serial womaniser, and she had seen at first hand the misery her poor wee mother had suffered.
She cut the bold Frankie out of her life altogether. Would not answer phone calls from him, and if he came to the front door she phoned the police. She went to a lawyer and started divorce proceedings on the grounds of her husband’s adultery. She had not seen much of him from that time. He sent regular presents to the wee yin but she had not allowed him to see her for the last two years. She had been told of his exploits within the drug scene down south, and had been fearful of any kind of involvement for her and Alyson. Her fears had been justified, as her present situation proved. She looked over at her daughter and tried to smile but could not do so because of the gag in her mouth.
She felt the tears come to her eyes as she caught the look of fear in her daughters face when one of their captors entered the room.
Alyson was terrified as she saw the man enter the room. He was carrying something on a tray, but the man stood in front of her and said
‘Come on hen, have some chicken soup. You don't need to be scared of me; nothing is going to happen to you. I have a wee lassie just the same age as you, so don't worry your pretty wee head about anything. Okay pal?’ he added with a smile.
The man spoon-fed Alyson as if she were a baby. He wiped her lips after each spoonful and let her have a mouthful of bread. When the soup was finished, he said.
‘Right hen that will keep you going for a wee while’
He left the room closing the door behind him. A few minutes later the man returned with a camera that produced instant prints. He laid a newspaper between the mother and daughter, and said
‘Smile your on candid camera’
The camera flashed, and shortly after checking the print, the man left the room.
Alyson could not understand what was going on, one minute they were leaving to go on holiday and the next they were being brought to this house. She wished her dad were here. He could sort these bad men out, because he had told her that if anyone ever harmed her, then the people would have Frankie boy to deal with. She missed her dad; she was not allowed to see him anymore because mum said that he did bad things. How could her dad do bad things? He was always so nice to her, and she had never seen him arguing with anyone except for her mum. Alyson thought to herself that grown ups were so complicated, why could him and mum not just say they were sorry and become friends again. She had done that when she had fallen out with her friend Sandra, they had both apologised, and now they were best friends again. I'm never going to be a grown up she vowed. I’ll just stay a wee girl, because wee girls know how to say their sorry. Alyson’s eyes grew heavy; she just could not keep them open. Blissful sleep came over her, and her young head tilted forward until her chin rested on her chest.
Fiona panicked when
she noticed Alyson falling asleep. Her first thought was that the bastards had drugged her young daughter. Then she remembered that Alyson had been so excited about their holiday, she had practically stayed awake the whole of the previous night. Despite the fear she realised that she too was tired, shut her eyes and within minutes was overtaken by the escapism of deep sleep.
THIRTYTWO
All the data that was available about the Connolly operation was spread across the large central table. Everyone was sitting in the main area of the gang headquarters. The dimmer switch on the lighting had been turned to maximum power.
‘Okay’ said Willie, who was controlling the meeting,
‘Let’s look closely at their M.O. till we spot the weak link. If any of you lot spot anything let me know’
Frankie walked to the top end off the table, and stood beside Paul. He spoke quietly in his ear. After a few minutes of discussion, Paul addressed the gang.
‘Listen up boys, Frankie has just told me that there's a wee rumour flying about our old friend Connolly he is going to move some high quality stuff. Would you believe on Christmas morning? I better explain a few wee details first about Frankie. He's heavy involved down south with the drug market, and hears wee juicy snippets of information now and again. He heard about this just before he left for our fair city. Obviously he normally would say nothing about it, but because of the circumstances he's told us the whole story. This one person always brought me luck, now he is doing it again. He can give us approximate times and definite venues, so thanks to my Frankie boy we can all have a nice Christmas bonus at the expense of Santa Connolly. I know you will all get grief from the missus about working Christmas morning, but I assure you it will be very rewarding to all and sundry. Okay we meet back here on the twenty fourth at six o'clock to finalise the details for the operation’
With that, they closed the meeting.
‘Frankie, are you coming for a bevy with the boys?’ asked big Willie.
‘No, sorry big man but I have to go and see my maw and dad’
‘Ok Frankie boy have a good night. I’ll see you at the meeting’
‘Aye, see you soon big man’
Frankie dropped Paul near a girlfriend’s house then headed back to Maryhill to visit his parents.
Paul waved good-bye to Frankie at the railway station in Lenzie and made pretence of going into the taxi office. When his friend’s car was out of sight he crossed over the rail bridge, walked to Alexandra Road and entered the driveway of a large house.
A night with Marion was what he needed. The two had become extremely close in the last few years. Paul had met her at a function in the Central hotel in Glasgow. He had been attracted to her instantly. He had always liked intelligent women and had no time for dumb blondes except for one thing.
His last serious relationship with Lucy Duncan had been good because she could think for herself and had been reasonably well educated. They had attended the same school, and she was always near the top of the class as just like he was.
Marion Cunningham was tall for a female, almost six feet. She had long auburn hair, a face like an angel, and the supple body of an athlete. Her family were very rich, but she had made her own way in the world. She was proud to be a self-made businessperson
She ran a Chain- of hairdressing salons that were very exclusive. She had no formal qualifications as a hairdresser, and had never even cut anyone’s hair, but she was good at supplying the public with what they required.
She had a top-notch business degree from Glasgow University.
She had started with a small rented shop in Glasgow's Buchanan Street. The shop had become famous for delivering a quality service to a very exclusive market. The business had gone from strength to strength, and she now owned twelve shops. She only employed the top stylists, and paid them accordingly. Marion devoted a large percentage of her time to the business, acting as owner plus area manager. By doing this, she cut out a wage.
She was a very outgoing person, and had a great personality. She was devoted to Paul, and romantically there was no other male in her life.
Paul rang the doorbell and the door was instantly opened.
‘Hello gorgeous, how are you tonight?’
‘All the better for seeing you sweetheart’ she replied.
He changed when he was with her. She did not really know anything about his way of making a living. He had told her that he had his own import export business. She had no reason to disbelieve him. His accent also changed as he stopped talking Glasgow slang speaking with a more refined Kelvinside type of intonation.
He would have liked to spend more time with Marion, but he spent so much time building his own business empire.
The couple embraced at the door and walked arm in arm to the rear of the house, and entered the conservatory.
‘Drink darling?’ she offered.
‘Yes please,’ He felt so comfortable with this person, and had even thought of asking her to marry him. Unfortunately, his type of work, and his hidden background made this impossible. On the other hand, did It.?
As she prepared their drinks, he was contemplating the idea of trying to make one big score and then maybe getting out of the drug trade for good. They could get married and move away from Glasgow. They could even move away from Scotland altogether, the south of France or even Spain were options he had contemplated recently.
He had enough assets to accomplish his dream financially, but could he leave his past behind him? That was another matter. Just one more big deal for safety's sake, it could be done.
As she returned with his drink the pipe dream was forgotten for the moment, and he concentrated on what this beautiful creature was saying to him.
She had made all the plans for the evening, and all he had to do was to go along with it, and enjoy himself.
‘This is a different way of life’, he thought ‘I could get used to this. Tomorrow I am seriously going to re-evaluate my life, and if changes are possible then I am going to try to make them’.
THIRTYTHREE
The car sounded its horn loudly at the couple who were crossing the busy main road.
‘Fuck you, yah wee bastard,’ shouted the male pedestrian.
‘They fuckin' car drivers have no respect for older people’ Johnny two soups complained to his tiny wife Florence.
They reached the opposite pavement without any further problems, and entered their local pub.
The aroma of the pub reached them as they swung the door open. The pungent smell of disinfectant fought vainly against the accumulated stench of stale beer and nicotine. It must have been about thirty years since the place had seen a lick of paint. The walls were a dirty brown colour above the well-scarred wooden panels, which went round the lower half of the lounge. The lighting didn't help. Two small light bulbs in each fitting tried in vain to shine through the dust and dirt accumulated on the ancient lampshades.
‘How's it going two soups? The usual? The barman cheerily shouted.
‘Aye, the usual Sammy’ he replied.
The barman duly placed two large whiskies and a small bottle of beer across the counter.
‘That’s two pound eighty five auld yin, and I haven’t got change of a fifty pound note’ He joked.
‘Two pounds and eighty five? That’s up ten pence since last week,’ moaned Johnny.
‘That’s inflation for you wee man. It's enough to drive you to drink’ He left to put the money in the till still laughing at his own joke.
Johnny and wee Flo had been coming to the pub every pension day since he had retired. They both looked forward to it as the highlight of their week.
The couple sat at a seat near the bar. There was a domino game being played at the next table.
‘How’s it going Johnny? Do you want a game?’ asked one of the domino players.
‘Aye, I’ll come in at the next hand,’ he happily replied.
Two soups began telling the domino players about what had transpired while trying
to cross the road.
‘To think that me my brother and thousands like us, fought, and sometimes died in a world war. Frank and I were in Egypt with the eighth army. Then over to Italy, we even fought at Monte Casino. I was shot and wounded in the leg during the battle, so surely to fuck I’m entitled to be a wee bit slow at crossing a road due to my war wounds. These fuckin fancy car drivers. All they can see is an auld wrinkly holding them back from getting home. All they want is to get to their fuckin' poxy semi in Bearsden’.
All the players agreed with wee two soups.
‘Aye their all the same’ said wee Tam.
‘Put them behind a wheel and they all think their 'David fuckin Coultard'
He had gained the name of two soups from an incident many years before he was married. Someone had called him it as a joke, and the name had stuck.
After a few wee whisky's he would sometimes relate how he had come by his unusual name.
The story went that him and his brother Frank had come home from the war to find that in their absence their mother had died. The pair had nowhere to stay. They eventually ended up in a single end flat in Arden Street. They had very little money but both the brothers liked a good drink. One day they had sold some gear that had fallen from the back of a lorry, and the proceeds of the crime had been spent on a monumental drinking binge. There had been no thought of buying any food. After one session they had returned home to their tiny flat, and Frank had fallen asleep. There was a pot of soup left with just enough for a plateful each. Johnny had devoured his hungrily, and then proceeded to eat his brother’s share. He knew that when his brother eventually became awake he would be looking for his share of the pot. He would be fighting mad if it was not available. Then he hit on an idea that would resolve the situation. He flicked some soup residue all over his brother’s shirt, and went to sleep. His brother’s cursing wakened him,
