One Hundred And Twelve Days

by Ian Todd

  “Hiv they returned ma maw’s good sheet?”

  “Don’t be fucking silly, wummin.”

  “Well, ye bloody better no start using that good candlewick that ma poor ma paid an erm and a leg fur oot ae the catalogue the year she died,” she growled, aboot turning and heidin indoors as he smiled, lifting doon the purple candlewick fae the shelf and spreading it o’er the bonnet ae his green goddess.

  Doctor Rory Brand wiped the drip fae his dick wae his sock and zipped himsel up. She’d been something else, that Mrs Butterly. Tae look at her, ye widnae think butter wid melt in her lovely, lipsticked mooth. He couldnae believe that she wis wan ae his main accusers. Efter discarding his soiled sock under the bed, he lay back doon oan the mattress and carried oan reading the indictment. Despite confessing and admitting everything tae Detective Inspector Crotchet and Sergeant Grusset, the wan that looked like Cheech Marin fae Cheech and Chong, he hidnae realised how many wummin he’d taken advantage ae o’er the years. Despite the accusations, he’d fallen in love wae a few ae them, including Mrs Butterly. Surely they’d goat the numbers wrang, he telt himsel. He wis glad his da hid eventually died ae his heart trouble. He widnae hiv coped wae the shame. The fact that his ma wis noo in the full throes ae dementia wis also a blessing in disguise. He’d wanted tae seek oot help fur his sex addiction, bit who wis he supposed tae turn tae? They’d only refer him tae himsel. His sister wid get everything noo. He looked across at the studded cell door and gently touched his swollen black eye wae the tips ae his fingers. Wan ae the gangsters’ heavies hid punched him oan the eye because Mr Hastie hid complained that he’d used a dirty mop and their cell hid smelled ae pish efter the flair hid dried. The first black eye hid been when he’d mistakenly left a broon nicotine patch oan the wall ae the cell, beside Mr Broon’s heid. He’d tried tae explain tae them that the lights wurnae very good and he couldnae see very well efter wan ae their henchmen hid stood oan his glasses, when he’d slapped them aff his face. The first time he’d been beaten up, he’d reported it tae SO Marshall.

  “Well, stay well away fae the likes ae them, ya stupid eejit, ye,” he’d bawled at him.

  The second time, earlier in the day, he’d gone straight tae PO Johnston.

  “Look, fuck aff. It’s Christmas day and Ah’m in here, hivving tae be spending it wae the likes ae you, ya sexual deviant, ye!” he’d snarled, shooing him away fae the cell at the bottom ae the hall that hid been converted intae an office.

  He listened intently. The footsteps fae the tackety boots wur fading, alang wae the whistling, efter he heard the lock oan the iron-bars ae the gate slamming shut at the entrance tae the hall. It wis time. He took a deep breath and stood up. He moved the chair closer tae the windae wall wae the toe ae his bare feet, as he withdrew the belt through the hoops ae his waistband. He slipped wan end ae the belt through the buckle and tightened it, efter looping it roond his neck. He jumped up oan tae the chair and wrapped the free end ae the belt up and o’er the thick, horizontal white bar, before tying it in a double knot. Efter gieing it a stiff tug tae make sure that it wid take his weight, he let oot a wee hauf whimper, as he used baith hauns and the soles ae his feet, tae push himsel and the chair away fae the nicotine-covered wall.

  Wilma sat and managed tae squeeze oot a plastic smile fur the occasion, as Wee Morag opened another present and Baby Sadie sat happily gurgling oan Ronnie’s lap, waving her toy rattle aboot under his nose. They’d been sitting earlier, picking at their breakfast, trying tae come across as Mr and Mrs Happy Family fur the sake ae the weans, before Ronnie hid sided wae Wee Morag.

  “Ye look tired,” he’d said.

  “Dae Ah?” she’d spat at him.

  “Look, let’s get this o’er and done wae, eh?” he’d said stiffly.

  “Why? So ye kin get back up the road tae that wee slut ae yours?” she’d snapped, instantly regretting her ootburst, as baith weans turned and looked across at her.

  “Naw, it isnae,” he’d hissed back, while she burst intae tears and he leaned across and plapped Sadie oan tae her lap, following Wee Morag ben the hoose tae the living room, efter she’d spat oot her rice krispies, shouting ‘Yippee’ as she fled the scene ae the crime.

  “Ah’m actually a nice person, ye know,” she’d said tae him, wiping her tears oan Sadie’s bib. “And fur your information, aw Ah wanted wis fur Wee Morag tae eat something nutritional before she starts eating her way through aw they selection boxes that your ma and mine left wrapped up under that Christmas tree o’er there.

  “Whit the fuck ur you daeing, staunin there like ye’ve lost something, Bare?” The Medical SO demanded tae know.

  “Oh, bit… er…is there no wan fur me?” he asked, as the other two wur awready sitting at the table, looks ae dread splashed across they grey-pallored faces ae theirs, as they nervously ripped open the large official-looking broon envelopes.

  “Like whit?”

  “Like ma indictment…the same as they’ve jist been haunded,” he bleated, staunin there, looking between the others and the medical screw.

  “That’s aw that wis sent up fae the gatehoose…it might arrive the morra.”

  “Bit the morra is Boxing Day, so it is. There’s never any post oan boxing day, at least, no oot there in the real world,” he wailed, pointing at the wall behind the SO.

  “Look. It’s probably a mistake and will arrive later oan.”

  “Bit…” The Elvis Impersonator started tae say, as the SO quickly disappeared oot ae the room and through the barred gate, whistling loudly as he went, remembering tae lock it behind him oan route.

  “Aw, Ah know ye’re a wee bit doon jist noo, Senga, hen, whit wae that brother ae yers and the weans living doon south, bit me and yer da ur here, and it’s Christmas. We jist hiv tae make the best ae it, so we dae,” her ma said tae her, gieing the back ae her haun a wee squeeze, as her da waited impatiently fur wan ae them tae gie the end ae his cracker a tug.

  “Aye, and this is the first-year Ah kin remember that we’re no eating knocked-aff chicken, so it is,” her da said, drapping the cracker back oan tae the table, before picking up the sharp knife. “Gie’s yer plate o’er, hen.”

  “Aye, bit it’s still a good Rob Roy,” her ma reminded him.

  “Ah’m sorry, bit Ah don’t think Ah kin eat anything…Ah’m no feeling hungry,” Senga said miserably.

  “Oh, in case Ah furget again,” her ma remembered, haunin o’er her plate tae her da and staunin up. “This came fur ye yesterday. Ah don’t know why ye jist don’t get yer mail sent tae the flat. It’s no as if ye live here anymair,” she said, picking the broon envelope aff the unit and haunin it tae her before sitting doon.

  “Because me and Lizzie don’t want anywan tae find oot where we live, that’s why,” Senga said, turning the envelope o’er and hivving a wee swatch ae it, before opening it.

  “Christ, ye make the toon sound like Crime Central, so ye dae,” her da said, haudin up the knife threateningly, pretending tae stab the chicken, wearing his best Christopher Lee face, before slicing intae the side ae his wife’s good, plump Rob Roy beauty.

  “So?” her ma asked, looking at her.

  “Ah’ve passed. Ah’m a qualified district nurse noo,” Senga said, looking up fae the letter, sounding surprised.

  “See? Things ur looking up. How many Brussel sprouts ur ye wanting, hen?” her ma asked, efter her da passed the plate across.

  “Oh, Simon,” Elspeth Jeffries panted, her naked breasts rising and falling, as Simon snaked his tongue gently doon between them. “What…what’s the cat doing?” she panted again, as the cat sat, stock still, oan the windae sill, looking doon at her wae interest, as she tried tae pull Simon’s heid back up fae under the sheet by his ears.

  “Nothing. It’s only Young Plum. Ignore him,” he murmured, his tongue exiting fae her belly button, heiding south.

  “But…I… I thought you…had good news for me from Senga?” she squealed, before squeezing her eyes shut and letting oot a groan ae p
leasure, as that tongue ae his parked up and started reversing intae the parking lot.

  The Wizard Ae Oz hid jist started oan BBC Wan, when Johnboy and Mr Hopkins looked across at the living room door. Footsteps wur coming alang the lobby efter the ootside door ae the flat slammed shut.

  “Kin ye no learn tae buzz up like everywan else?”

  “Never mind that. Grab yer jaicket. We’ve goat wan ae the basturts,” Tony growled.

  “Who?”

  “Chic Campbell.”

  “Whereaboots?”

  “Doon at Jimmy Tarbuck’s Chinese Laundry, across in Finnieston.”

  “Hing oan. Ah’ll need tae get ma shoes fae through in the bedroom,” Johnboy said, as Mr Hopkins sat oan the erm ae the chair, watching Tony wae interest.

  “That cat is fucking brilliant, so he is,” Tony shouted through tae him, efter the cat leapt aff the chair and came running across tae him, efter he gied it a wee whistle. “And Ah’ll tell ye, that Simon wan’s no happy wae that Young Plum. He says if he disnae smarten himsel up by responding tae his whistle, he’s getting evicted. The stupid basturt’s been following him aboot, whistling at the poor thing since you goat this big beauty. Ah’ll take Mr Hopkins aff yer hauns if ye get fed up wae him,” Tony offered, scratching the cat’s ear.

  “So, whit’s the score wae Snappy then?” Johnboy asked, as Tony heided up the hill towards Bank Street.

  “Well, he’s still alive, bit he’s in intensive care up at The Royal. Did you no say that ye thought Senga wisnae working oan Christmas day?”

  “Aye, bit Ah think she said that she’s working oan Boxing Day.”

  “Well, we’ll find oot mair the morra.”

  “Who’s at Jimmy’s?”

  “Ben and Baby Huey. Ah stoapped at a phone box oan the way up tae yours, trying tae ring Simon, bit there wis nae answer. Ah remembered him and Jake saying they wur gaun up the road, tae celebrate Hanukkah wae the auld wans. There wis nae way Ah wis gonnae phone Peter. Kin ye imagine the reaction if Jean picked up the phone? Anyway, there’s enough ae us tae deal wae the basturt, if that pair hivnae awready done him in. Ah warned them Ah wanted him kept alive.”

  “So, whit’s Campbell been saying then?”

  “Nothing. We hivnae questioned him. We wur waiting oan you. We’ll find oot soon enough.”

  The only light in the yard wis coming fae a bare bulb above the door ae Wee Jimmy’s office. The only sign ae movement wis the lazy cloud ae steam, emanating oot ae wan ae the four square ventilation grills oan the side ae the main building. The last time he’d been in the laundry hid been when Silent hid shot Deck McGuiness in the heid in Wee Jimmy’s freshly decorated office back in seventy-two. He wondered if he’d changed that cherry-patterned wallpaper ae his? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “He better still be alive,” Tony growled at Ben, as Johnboy followed him through the wee access door in the metal shutter.

  Johnboy couldnae believe his eyes. Hinging above a big open boiler ae steaming, bubbling, boiling water, Chic Campbell wis trussed up in chains oan a pulley. He let oot a terrified yelp when he clocked the new arrivals and his body started swaying fae side tae side at the sound ae Tony’s voice. Johnboy watched, no saying anything, as the body swayed gently, disappearing and reappearing again, through the steam.

  “Right, get him doon, Baby,” Tony commanded, as they watched Baby wrenching oan a pulley chain and the wheels ae the rollers swung Campbell away fae above the boiler before he started hauling oan another chain, mair swiftly this time, as the body landed wae a dull thud oan its heid, oan the concrete flair.

  Johnboy hidnae come across Chic Campbell since back in sixty-eight, efter he’d been shitty tae Silent, when they’d asked him and Seb Grey tae help them get intae the toon centre when they’d been oan the run fae Thistle Park. He wis a lot bigger noo. His red, sweaty face wis puffy and swollen. Johnboy wisnae sure if it wis because ae the hiding he’d goat fae the others earlier or if it wis fae being hauf poached above the big vat ae steaming water. Despite the years, he recognised Johnboy straight away.

  “Johnboy! Oh ma God. Help me, please. Ah didnae mean it…it wis that Seb Grey,” he screamed fearfully at him.

  Johnboy looked aboot. He felt faint. There wis only the wan solitary chair sitting in the middle ae the flair. It wis pointless taking up residence oan that, as he knew fine well that Tony wid soon sling his arse aff ae it in the next minute or so. He’d been well-warned by the consultant, Mr Sing, aboot getting himsel intae stressful situations, as his heidaches wid come back. His heid wis thumping.

  “Johnboy, Ah helped ye oot…it wis me, remember? You and Silent…please don’t let them hurt me,” Campbell whined hysterically, as Ben suddenly strode across fae where he wis staunin and booted him in the guts, being rewarded wae a painful scream, as Campbell’s knees doubled up tae his stomach, coughing and spluttering.

  He watched Tony walking across tae wan ae the empty boilers, taking aff his jaicket as he went, before hinging it up by the collar oan the handle, that wis sticking oot fae the lid ae it.

  Johnboy’s mind flew back tae the invisible water tank across in Pinkston in 1969, efter Tony, Paul, Joe, Silent and him hid tracked doon Tiny, the wee manager ae the Stanhope Street Stables, bobbing aboot in the water, efter his safety rope hid been accidently cut oan a ragged piece ae lead he’d been stripping fae the inside ae the tank. Johnboy hid tortured himsel fur years aboot whether he’d done the right thing, by ignoring Tiny’s pleas tae drap the spare rope doon tae him, that wid’ve allowed him tae escape and live. He looked at the other three. Whit hid they become? Wis this it? When he wis doon in Dumfries, lying festering in the digger, he’d argued wae himsel, wondering why he’d ever allowed himsel tae be impressed by Skull’s stories ae daeing time in The Grove and whit life wid’ve been like if he’d jist ignored him and gone hame tae that ma and da ae his, roond in Montrose Street. That hid been wan side ae the argument. Oan the positive side, he’d never hiv met Silent if he hid. Another thing that hid been bothering him recently wis why nowan hid mentioned Senga’s name in front ae him this past wee while? It wisnae like Tony. Respecting his privacy? Somehow, he didnae think that wis the reason…no him, no these fuckers. And Senga? Hid she jist goat tired and gied up waiting efter aw this time…so close tae the finishing line? Unbelievable. He’d tried phoning her. Whit wis she expecting fae him? He telt her he wisnae ready tae go oot and aboot. Even efter aw this time since he’d discharged himsel fae The Royal, some days he could barely lift his tooth brush up tae his mooth because ae the dizziness and pain. Maybe he should’ve mentioned it tae her, bit if he hid, she wid’ve switched intae nurse mode and started hassling him tae go tae the doctor. Also, being oot ae the flat meant being in the company ae The Mankys. He never wanted tae be drawn back in…he still didnae, if he wis honest wae himsel. He’d always been up fur a move oot ae the toon tae be wae her…fuck, it hid been the only thing he’d ever wanted since he wis ten years auld. He’d warned her no tae hiv a go at Tony, bit she widnae bloody listen. The fact that she wis stumped fae moving oot ae the toon because ae the trial clearly wisnae enough tae keep they wings ae hers in check meantime. Wid he live tae regret that he didnae dae mair tae encourage her tae keep gaun, when he hid the opportunity? Probably. He wis who he wis, despite whit she believed. Fur her tae gie up so close tae the finishing line hid come as a complete shock. He thought he hid the measure ae her. At least he widnae be tortured by seeing her wae another guy, if she wis living somewhere oan the west coast. He wondered if Pearl wid’ve put up wae the shite he’d put Senga through, if she hidnae disappeared up tae the Highlands?

  “Right, get him up oan tae that chair,” Tony said calmly, staunin aside, as Baby and Ben jumped intae life, hauling the screaming body up aff the flair and oan tae the plastic chair. “Right, ya fat fucking prick, ye,” Tony said, sounding quite calm, clenching a two feet length ae scaffolding pole in his right haun. “Ah’m gonnae gie ye two choices, Chic. Despite people thinking Ah’m some sor
t ae psycho, that’s the kind ae guy Ah am. Bit, before ye choose, you’re gonnae tell us whit you and that pal ae yers hiv been up tae o’er the past twenty-four hours, leaving nothing oot. Ah want tae know who done whit and who gied the orders. Ye’re then gonnae tell us how we kin get oor hauns oan that wan-armed basturt, Papa McGregor, tae hiv a wee quiet chat wae him, withoot any ae they wanking bodyguards ae his hinging aboot, lugging in. Dae that and Ah’ll let ye decide how we’re gonnae finish ye aff. There’s this,” he said, haudin up the metal pipe threateningly. “Or there’s that,” he said, pointing across tae the still bubbling, steaming boiler, as Baby Huey rattled the chain ae the pulley and Chic Campbell screamed in terror. “It’s your choice. Bit Ah’m warning ye right noo. Efter seeing that Wee Pie wan taking a hot bath, Ah know which wan Ah’d choose,” he said, as Ben McCalumn unwrapped a stick ae Wrigley’s chewing gum and popped it intae his gub and Baby clicked his fingers, haudin oot his haun fur wan as well.

  Senga sighed wae relief as the neighbour let her in. She’d left the keys ae Johnboy’s flat in her bedside drawer back at her flat. She hidnae thought she’d be needing them again. She’d been relieved tae see that there wis a light oan. A cat hid been sitting oan the sill looking doon at her, as she passed underneath his windae. She stood at the door ae his flat and took a deep breath. Despite gaun o’er everything in her heid, she wisnae sure whit her opening lines wur gonnae be. Whit if he didnae want tae see her? Wid he even let her in? Christ, whit if Pearl wis wae him? That thought hid never crossed her mind. She looked back doon the stairwell. Her da hid drapped her aff at the corner ae Otago Street, and the bridge oan Great Western Road. He hidnae spoken tae her in the car, even when she thanked him while she wis getting oot oan tae the wet pavement. Her ma hid clearly been upset at her hasty exit. Somewan wance telt her that a look could be worth a thousand words. Her ma’s face spoke volumes efter she’d stood up.