by Ian Todd
“Okay, that’s it, Sharon Campbell. We aw know fine well that ye’re dying fur us tae ask whit ye’ve goat in yer box, so ye ur,” Issie huffed, puffing oan that fag ae hers at a hunner miles an hour, a clear sign that she wis nervous.
“Whit box?” Ann Jackson asked, looking aboot before making oot that she’d jist caught sight ae it sitting in front ae Sharon fur the first time. “Oh, that box?” she exclaimed, tittering nervously, as a stream a blue smoke shot towards the ceiling fae Sharon’s mooth.
“Aye, it’s probably a cake fur the main-man…tae saften him up a wee bit, jist in case he’s heard ae us while oot and aboot oan his travels and bans us fae the premises before we’ve even darkened that door ae his,” Soiled Sally surmised oot loud, nodding tae hersel, lighting up a fag before leaning back against the sink in her freshly ironed, clean pinny, crossing they big freckled erms ae hers, eyeing up the box through wan smoke-filled, runny eye.
“This girls, is oor new uniform,” Sharon announced, her fag dangling doon oot ae the side ae her gub, upending the box above the table, as packets, in polythene bags, tumbled oot ae it oan tae the Formica.
“Uniforms!” they aw exclaimed, in tune fur a change, sounding like a gaggle ae geese aboot tae be force fed.
“Aye, uniforms,” Sharon retorted defiantly, snatching the fag away fae her mooth, ready tae take oan any dissention in the ranks, as they aw drew nearer the table fur their first wee initial swatch.
She knew she only hid seconds tae reel them in. She hid tae get it right first time or there wid be blood oan the carpet, or in their case, wax-cloth.
“The last time Ah wis in a uniform, Ah wis wearing a wee standard issue, moleskin number oot in Cornton Vale. Weighed a bloody ton every time it rained, so it did. Remember Sharon?” Soiled Sally kicked aff wae, shuddering.
“Aye, Ah dae that, Sally, hen. The first time Ah clapped eyes oan ye efter getting that matted heid ae yers deloused in the reception, Ah remember thinking how fetching ye looked, so Ah did,” Sharon drawled drily, still hedging her bets oan where the dissention in the ranks wid be coming fae. “Well, don’t aw rush,” she challenged them. “Get tore right in. The sizes ur oan the side ae the polythene bags.”
“That’ll be your wan, Betty, hen,” Issie said, slinging a packet across tae her.
“Aye, you and yer skinny arse,” Betty retorted, ignoring it and grabbing hersel a medium.
“Ah wisnae implying anything,” Issie retorted, looking aboot tae see if anywan else hid picked up oan the cheek she wis hivving tae put up wae at that time ae the morning.
“Look, Ah goat everywan a size bigger than the wan they needed oan the advice ae that wee Carol Haldane wan, who used tae work in the florist’s opposite Salty Tony’s. She’s noo working doon at the Industrial Clothing Store in the Coocaddens. She telt me that ye don’t want them too tight, especially when ye’re stretching o’er wae a pot ae hot grub in yer haun. So, if ye don’t mind, haun that back tae Issie, Betty, hen. Ah think this is your wan,” Sharon said nonchalantly, lifting up and throwing o’er wan ae the bigger packets tae her.
“Da, da, da, daaa!” Ann fanfared, trying tae imitate the orchestral opening ae ‘This Is Yer Life,’ gieing everywan a wee twirl.
“Aye, plap a lace hat oan tap ae that napper ae yers and ye’d get a walk-oan part as a chanty-pot emptier in wan ae the bedrooms in Upstairs Doonstairs, so ye wid, Ann,” Sharon said tae chuckles.
“Naw, there’s something wrang wae these labels. Look, this won’t keek oan me, so it won’t,” Betty panted, trying, bit failing, tae button it shut across they big paps ae hers.
“Oh, sorry, hen, this must be your wan here,” Sharon replied, even mair casually than before, passing across whit looked like the Big Top fae Billy Smart’s Circus.
“Ur you bloody-well jesting me or whit, Sharon Campbell? Ah kin hardly lift the bloody thing up wae the weight in it, let alane slip it across they shoulders ae mine.”
“Aye, well, it’s no yer shoulders that’s the problem, Betty. Maybe, if ye’d stoap eating aw they left o’er pies and bridies fae the funerals, then ye’d maybe manage a wee size twenty-two wan ae these days,” Issie advised her pleasantly.
“So, whit dae youse think then?” Sharon asked them, hoping they couldnae detect the panic in her voice, jumping in before the fight started fur real.
“Listen, Olive Oyl, if Ah’d wanted tae be a pipe cleaner, run aff ma feet fae morning tae night, Ah wid’ve married that lazy Tam ae yers insteid ae drapping him like a molten rivet, well before you arrived oan the scene, squinty-eyed and blindly in love,” Betty shot back, as Issie’s eyes narrowed.
“Aye you tell her, Betty, hen,” Ann Jackson sang, sitting doon, making hersel comfy in anticipation ae the show getting started, lifting up Sharon’s fag packet and withdrawing a fag.
“So, it’s like that, Betty, is it?” Issie scowled, a look ae hurt etched across her coupon.
“Well, you started it,” Betty retorted defensively.
“Naw, Ah bloody well didnae…Ah wis jist making a wee supportive observation fae wan good friend tae another.”
“Calling me a bloody pie-eater? Ah’d hate tae hear whit ye’d call me if Ah goat oan yer bad side?”
“Is that no a fitba song or something,” Soiled Sally asked tae nowan in particular, as Sharon’s heart sank and she gratefully accepted wan ae her ain fags fae Ann beside her.
“Don’t you dare insult ma man, or any ae that family ae mine, ya sweet-toothed heifer, ye. Ma Tam might be a good-fur-nothing lazy basturt, bit he’s ma good-fur-nothing lazy basturt, so leave him oot ae this. Everywan knows fine well that the only reason Stan gets his arse oot ae the door in the morning is because he disnae want tae be sitting at hame listening tae you spouting shite aw day!”
“Did youse jist hear that?” Betty howled, demanding acknowledgement oan the cheek front, grunting like a distressed mongoose. “See whit Ah hiv tae put up wae aboot here? She’s never changed a day since school. Everywan in the Toonheid, including aw the teachers, knew fine well she carried a tongue in that heid ae hers that could cut lead, so they did. It’s never a ‘How ye daeing, hen’ or ‘How kin Ah help ye in yer daily struggles, hen?’”
“Ach, Betty, shut yer arse and don’t exaggerate, fur Christ’s sake. It’s us ye’re talking tae. Ye’re starting tae sound like a right bloody sore throat, so ye ur,” Issie spat back, swishing her erm across tae the door.
“Always wis a taker, that wan. Never ‘Here ye go, hen’ or ‘Here’s a wee packet ae biscuits fur aw the stuff Ah’ve constantly done fur ye o’er the years,’” Betty huffed, building up tae full steam.
“Fur Christ’s sake, could somewan gie her a kick in the fanny tae shut her up?” Issie scowled, as Ann made room fur Soiled Sally, haudin the match up so Sharon could get a light fur her fag, as Sally grabbed hersel a ringside seat beside them.
“See whit Ah mean? That wan always aims they catty insults ae hers at the maist vulnerable amongst us, the wans who’re sensitive and fragile…” Betty bawled, exaggerating her near tae tears hurt, as Sharon, Ann and Soiled Sally aw jist aboot choked oan their fags at Betty’s self-classification, which wid’ve done any ae them proud up at the Assistance Board alang oan Springburn Road while in there, trying tae get an emergency payment.
“Oh, Ah’m right sorry fur interrupting, Betty, hen, bit somehow, you and sensitive fragility don’t exactly trip aff ae that tongue ae mine’s…mair like ‘Aw naw, no her again!’” Issie retorted, as everywan, including Betty, cracked up.
“Ah’m gonnae end up swinging fur that skinny cow, so Ah am,” Betty warned Sharon.
“Ach, Betty, naw ye’re no. Right, Issie, wid you and Mrs Sensitive here settle doon. We’ve goat plenty ae things tae be getting oan wae,” Sharon warned them, ripping the polythene bag open and taking oot her purple and blue uniform fae it.
“Ah wis jist starting tae enjoy masel, so Ah wis,” Ann Jackson said, getting a ‘Don’t start that wan again’ look fae Sharon, as Bet
ty and Issie leaned across and lifted wan ae her fags oot ae her packet.
“Ah’m jist no sure aboot aw this, Sharon,” Issie admitted, taking a light fae Betty before sauntering across tae the windae behind the sink tae see if she could catch her reflection in the glass.
“Whit?’
“This,” Issie said, turning roond, back tae facing the others, who wur aw either staunin or sitting looking at their uniforms.
“Personally, masel, Ah think they’re lovely, so Ah dae,” Ann announced, much tae Sharon’s relief, smoothing the creases oot ae hers.
“Oh ma God…look! They’ve goat oor wee name, Springburn’s Larder, stitched oan tae the breast ae them,” Betty exclaimed, as Ann and Soiled Sally, baith cooed in wonder, fingering the stitching oan their wans.
“Issie, whit’s wrang?” Sharon persisted, gently, detecting something no quite right in that voice ae hers.
“This…us…Ah’m jist no sure, so Ah’m no.”
“Ae whit?” Betty asked.
“Us and whit we’re daeing.”
“Issie, c’mone o’er here and sit doon, hen,” Sharon commanded, pulling a chair oot fur her. “Tell me…us…whit’s the matter?”
“Ah’m jist no sure where aw this is gaun…Ah mean, whit ur we daeing?”
“Fur Christ’s sake, Issie, we’re trying tae run a business, that’s whit we’re daeing…is that no right, Sharon?” Betty asked her.
“Right, aw youse. We need tae hiv a wee serious confab, so we dae,” Sharon announced, as everywan reached fur their ain fags this time, while Issie plapped her arse doon oan the chair. “Look, Ah don’t like being seen as the boss or the spokesman, so Ah don’t. It wis never ma aim tae try and take o’er efter poor Helen…er, left us. In fact, Ah wish wan ae youse wid step forward and gie me a bit ae advice as tae whit the hell we’re daeing hauf the time. Ah don’t know aboot youse, bit whit Ah’m trying tae dae is lift masel…and hopefully us, oot ae the situation that we’ve always found oorsels in.”
“Bit Ah thought it wis aboot being able tae get oorsels a packet ae fags withoot relying oan they basturts at hame?” Issie girned, wringing her hauns. “This seems a lot mair than that, so it dis.”
“Issie, hen, you better believe that it’s a lot mair than that. Ah could be wrang, bit Ah happen tae think that we’ve maybe goat something good gaun oan here, so Ah dae,” Sharon replied nervously.
“Aye, and Sharon’s gonnae share that wae us, so she is, Issie,” Betty said seriously, no taking the piss this time. “Oan ye go, yersel, Sharon.”
“How long hiv we aw been struggling…Ah mean, really struggling? Ah’ll tell ye. Aw oor days. If it hisnae been wae wan thing, it’s been the other. How many warrant sales hiv we hid between us? Christ, it’s been so long since ma first wan, that Ah’ve furgotten when it wis noo. That Pearl ae mine wis jist a wean, thank God. Kin ye imagine the emotional impact ae seeing yer wee pillowcase full ae second-haun toys being sold fur a tanner, never mind yer bed?”
“A tanner fur toys? Christ, Ah kin remember poor Stan’s toolbox, full ae good tools gaun fur five and a ha’penny, so Ah kin. He’d furgoatten tae hide it before the Sheriff officers arrived wae their price tags the day before. Took him years tae replenish whit wis in it, so it did. Bloody-well hid the cheek tae blame me,” Betty scowled, as everywan smiled.
“Ah’m no quite sure where aw this is gonnae end up, bit Ah’ll tell ye this, wherever we’re gaun, we’re gonnae hiv a go. Kin ye imagine? Fur the first time in oor lives, we’re actually taking hame mair than oor men ur…at least, the wans that ur working,” Sharon added quickly, letting her words sink in.
“It’s funny ye should say that, bit last week wis the first time in the whole ae ma married life that Ah still hid a few bob left in ma purse oan the Sunday night. Unbelievable when ye think aboot it,” Ann agreed, shaking her heid in wonder.
“Aye, bit that wisnae a fluke, Ann. We’ve worked hard fur it and if things keep gaun the way Ah’m expecting them tae, then it’ll be the same this Sunday and the next wan efter that. We’re oan tae something here, girls. Ah’m no sure whit yer problem is wae that, Issie?”
“Ah’m…Ah’m jist no sure…Ah mean, look at us? Aw decked oot in fancy uniforms, waiting tae go and speak tae some bloody bank manager.”
“So?”
“So, hiv any ae youse ever been in a bank before? Ah know Ah hivnae,” Issie retorted.
“Issie, Issie, don’t fret, hen. We’re aw in this thegither. If the basturt gies us any lip, Ah’ll deck him masel, so Ah will,” Betty soothed, getting nods ae support fae Ann and Soiled Sally.
“Issie, Harry The Bouffant himsel’s gonnae be there, so he is. Harry’s been dealing wae these kind ae people aw his days. Ah spent a few hours wae him last night as agreed. He says opening up a business account is a doddle nooadays, so it is.”
“So, why dae we aw hiv tae be there then?”
“Ye don’t, bit think ae this as a celebration…a passage.”
“A passage?” Ann wondered.
“Aye, a right ae passage. Christ, we’re gonnae be business wummin, running oor ain business. Gaun tae see that wee, baldy, moustached cretin roond at that bank is like the hauncuffs finally being removed…the shackles disappearing, so it is!” Sharon announced, sounding excited, staunin up and looking doon at them.
“Fur Christ’s sake, Sharon. Fur a second there, Ah thought ye wur gonnae burst in tae ‘Wan Enchanted Evening,’ so Ah did,” Betty drawled.
“Dae ye no mean ‘Some’ Betty,” Issie reminded her, distracted.
“Eh?”
“Some Enchanted Evening,” Ann agreed.
“Okay, well, The Hills Ur Alive Wae The sound ae Music then. Christ, whit’s the effing difference?” Betty tut-tutted.
“South Pacific and Sound Ae Music…different musicals” Baith Ann and Issie reminded her.
“And continents…Ah think,” Soiled Sally added.
“Er, excuse me, bit Ah wis making an important point here, so Ah wis,” Sharon growled.
“They say The Sound ae music wis based oan a true story, so it wis,” Betty assured them, knowingly, before turning back tae Sharon. “Ye were saying, Sharon? Something aboot yer back passage?”
“Ah’ll bloody back passage you in a minute. Whit Ah wis saying is that this is oor chance…ae…ae…freedom…aye, bloody-well freedom, so it is.”
“Freedom?”
“Freedom tae make oor ain way noo, financial freedom fae they waster men ae oors who tried tae control us through oor fag needs…”
“Ye should’ve clocked the face oan that Stan ae mine when Ah pulled oot a full packet ae B & H last night,” Betty coughed, as they aw smiled knowingly.
“Freedom fae that forked-tongued harridan, Mrs Purple, who keeps telling us tae hing oan in there, assuring us again and again that the time his come and that she’ll be arriving soon tae take charge, tae lead us up and o’er the mountain tae The Promised Land,” Sharon continued.
“Hiv any ae youse goat a bloody clue whit Florence Nightingale here’s prattling oan aboot?” Soiled Sally wanted tae know. “Cause Ah bloody-well don’t.”
“Ah’m talking aboot us, aboot how we’re gonnae march forward oan oor ain two feet fae noo oan. Did youse no hear whit that Barbara Allen wan said tae me the other day there? ‘There’s safety in numbers, Sharon. Wummin like us hiv tae stick thegither, so we dae. We jist need tae hing oan in there,’ she rattled aff tae me, as if Ah didnae awready know that.”
“So, whit wis wrang wae her saying that then?” Ann wondered, lighting up.
“Because when Ah asked her fur how much longer this time, she jist looked at me and shrugged they purple padded shoulders ae hers. Christ, how long hiv we been waiting tae be taken tae The Promised Land by some bloody Boadicea, eh? Mrs Purple said that some day there wid be a wummin prime minister and things wid change fur aw us dames, so it wid.”
“This isnae political rhetoric, Sharon. This is a plain fact. Everywan knows fine well that wanc
e wan ae us wummin get in there, there will be nae stoapping us, so there wullnae,” The Cooncillor hid assured her.
“Aye, that wan always comes across as a strange bird tae me, sounding like something oot ae a Fry’s Turkish Delight advert, full ae promises and full ae shite. Hiv ye clocked her swanning aboot in that expensive purple scarf ae hers? She hisnae goat a bloody clue whit it’s like fur maist ae us wummin aboot here. Who the hell voted fur her, anyway? In fact, where did she appear fae efter poor Helen’s untimely demise? That’s whit Ah want tae know,” Ann demanded.
“Right, well, if it’s awright wae yersel, Ann, Ah’d like tae get back tae the problem in haun before the sun goes doon, so Ah wid,” Sharon reminded her sarcastically.
“Aye, Ann, shut the fuck up. Kin ye no see Sharon’s needing tae get Issie sorted oot,” Soiled Sally reminded her.
“Anyway, Issie. Ah’m no gonnae ask ye tae dae anything that you, or anywan else sitting here, isnae comfortable wae,” Sharon assured her, and them, looking roond them aw. “Bit, Ah don’t want tae move forward oan ma lonesome either. Ah want us aw tae experience this thegither, like auld times…like real sisters and no Mrs Purple’s imaginary wans who sit aboot oan their arses aw day, telling us tae hing oan in there until the morra when they’ll take charge and nip up here tae save us fae oorsels. When Ah wis across visiting Helen recently, Ah could’ve sworn Ah heard her telling me tae keep gaun, bit no tae leave any ae youse behind…especially that Issie wan,” Sharon whispered nervously, feeling the tears brimming up in her eyes.
Silence.
“Well, seeing as ye’ve put it like that, Sharon, how could Ah refuse, eh?” Issie asked, looking anxiously at the forms that Sharon hid spread oot oan the table during the argument session, efter clearing the polythene bags aff ae it.
“Look, Issie, you be the first, hen, and jist sign yer name in the box where ma finger is,” Sharon said tae her, haudin oot the pen, as the other three looked at each other and smiled.
“Here?” Issie asked, bending o’er and peering at the paper nervously.
“Aye.”
