by Ian Todd
“Bit, why kin they no go tae another bank?” he’d appealed tae Harry Bertram, The Hairdresser, the previous night.
“Because Ah bank wae you, that’s why, and Ah’m Sharon Campbell’s financial adviser, so Ah am.”
“Another branch then?” he’d suggested hopefully.
“Look, their money’s jist as good as anywan else’s, so it is,” The Hairdresser hid lisped. “And honestly earned as well, which wid be a change fur in here.”
It hidnae been the first time since The Hairdresser informed him that he wis introducing knew customers tae the branch, that Harold hid wondered whit they hid o’er the auld queen.
“Look, Ah’ve known maist ae these dolls since ma school days. They’re oan tae something and Ah want them tae get a good start, right fae the beginning.”
“Bit, who ur they? Whit’s their source ae income, Harry?” he’d whined. ”Whit will aw ma decent customers think, efter bumping in tae the likes ae them roond here in the branch?”
“Look, Ah’m no gonnae piss aboot here, Harold. Ye either take them oan or Ah’ll take ma business elsewhere,” The Hairdresser hid threatened.
Oan its ain, Harry ‘The Bouffant’ Bertram’s account wisnae that much tae write hame aboot. Aye, his hairdressing shoap oan Springburn Road wis packed oot fae morning till night wae appointment-only clients, bit the bank hid far bigger customers than the fairy hairdresser who dressed like Liberace oan a good night. Bit, of course, that wis the trouble. A fair percentage ae his big account holders hid opened an account either oan Harry’s recommendation or through a personal introduction. In fact, the last time The Evening Citizen hid run a gangster feature regarding two ae his accounts, Blind Bill Campbell, Glesga’s answer tae Fagan and Black Pat McVeigh, the black butcher fae Possil, he’d jist aboot hid a nervous breakdoon. And that hid only been the tip ae the iceberg. There wis a right scary looking man, some shady depositor, who turned up every Tuesday morning ae every single week and deposited anything between fifteen hunner and two thousand in cash, split evenly, in tae Black Pat’s three accounts. He now knew who this depositor, Thomas Ralston, wis. His face hid been splashed aw o’er The Glesga Echo, efter he’d been found not guilty up at The High Court in Edinburgh fur literally gutting some poor soul wae a butcher’s boning knife. The victim hid claimed that Ralston hid been extorting money aff ae him and when he’d refused tae gie him any mair, Ralston hid goat a few ae his henchmen tae haud the victim up, as he took the knife tae him…supposedly.
“Oh ma God!” he remembered yelping, trying tae keep that terror ae his in check.
“Aye, he supposedly smiled as he gutted the guy as well, bit Ah widnae believe everything ye read in the papers,” Harry hid said soothingly.
“Bit…bit, if he goat charged and ended up in The High Court, Harry?”
“Aye, bit remember, Harold, he wis found not guilty. That means he wis clearly innocent.”
He’d stoapped reading the papers efter that. There wur too many names…aye, dangerous names, that kept getting regurgitated, that he recognised as being account holders at his branch, despite them no living or operating businesses in the area. He’d tried tae get oot, bit it wis too late.
“Look, it’s none ae ma business, Harold, bit seeing as who ye’re dealing wae here, it might be better jist tae shut yer eyes and ears and go forth and multiply. Sure, the money might hiv a few wee manky fingerprints oan it, bit it’s money jist the same. Christ, look at The East India Company in the last century. Biggest bunch ae pirates oan the planet at the time. Ye never heard the banks turning their backs oan them, did ye? These people urnae interested in somewan like you or me. Aw they want is somewhere tae stash their cash. It’s no as if ye’re committing a crime, jist because yer customers happen tae hiv dirty hauns, noo is it?” The silver-tongued hairdresser hid cooed at the time.
It hid taken him a wee while tae come tae terms wae the possibility that his involvement in being a banker fur some ae these people could be construed as being an accessory tae aw sorts ae criminal acts, bit, then again, how wis he supposed tae know where the proceeds ae the deposits came fae, The Bouffant, hid reminded him oan many a night. If ye wur tae ignore the fact that The Hairdresser wis as bent as a buckle, then anywan looking in wid assume he wis jist an honest businessman who recommended friends tae become clients ae the bank. That’s whit businesses did fur each other. There hid been another, far mair subtle sweetener though. Harry hid also pointed oot tae him that he wis hardly likely tae be held up by masked gunmen, if they same gunmen, who deposited their money in his vaults, wur customers in the branch.
“These people don’t tend tae shite in their ain nest, Harold,” he’d reassured him.
So far, everything hid gaun smoothly and he hidnae been compromised. His severe eczema condition, which he’d suffered fae since the Toonheid robbery, hid only recently receded fur the first time since it hid broken oot in 1965. There hid been a memo fae Heid Office a few months back, raising the possibility that organised criminals could be trying tae wangle themsels in and that managers should be oan the lookoot. The memo hidnae elaborated oan whit a branch manager wis supposed tae dae if they came across somewan who wis deemed tae be criminally prejudicial tae the bank’s wellbeing. The general consensus amongst his fellow bankers at the Guild, wis that Heid Office wis jist trying tae cover their ain tracks. As far as any ae the Guild members wur aware, there wisnae any plans fur regulation at a political level, despite requests fur guidelines fae the wider Guild membership.
“So, ladies, Ah believe ye want tae open a business account. Wid that be correct?”
Silence.
“Er, tae dae wae yer new…ah, er…catering enterprise,” he continued, before that voice ae his trailed aff, as the five wummin, wan wae her legs at quarter tae three, sat and stared at him, aw huddled thegither, rather than sitting there like normal people wid’ve done.
“Where’s Harry?” the wan in the middle wae the peroxide hair asked.
“Ah’m no sure. He wis supposed tae be here,” he replied, remembering noo, that this wis the crowd he’d witnessed, oan many an occasion, attacking the poor polis and Sheriff officers gaun aboot their lawful business.
Silence.
“Right, that’s it, c’mone girls, let’s beat it,” Blondie announced, as they aw stood up, wiping the creases ae their obviously new, matching uniforms.
“Ladies, ladies, where ur ye gaun?” he yelped, shooting oot ae that chair ae his like a chucky stane fae a sling-shot. “Ah thought youse wur here tae open an account? Ah’ve goat aw the necessary paperwork laid oot. Look…”
He pointed tae the desk wae the neat row ae paperwork spread across it.
“We need Harry tae…”
“Look, Mr Bertram said that he might be late. Ah also gied him forms fur youse tae sign tae bring wae ye. Er, ye widnae happen tae hiv brought them alang the day, wid ye?”
“As a matter ae fact,” Blondie replied, as the others scowled at her fur even entertaining the wee baldy basturt.
“Look, ladies, why don’t we aw sit down, eh?” he asked pleadingly, clicking they heels ae his thegither, before hauf bowing and gieing them another swishing Musketeer demonstration wae that left erm ae his.
Nowan spoke efter sitting doon opposite him again, nudging each other wae their elbows, admiring the five bob bit, stuck oan tap ae that heid ae his. Sharon gied Soiled Sally a dirty look fur using the wooden bit oan the back ae her chair tae scratch her back, which caused the others tae start giggling like school lasses, until he looked up and frowned at them.
“Is everything awright and aw that?” Sharon chipped in, breaking the silence.
“Who’s Mrs McManus?” he asked, ignoring the question.
“Er, that’ll be me,” Issie replied nervously.
“Ye’ve a lovely signature, so ye hiv.”
“Me?” Issie gasped, hivving never been able tae read or write, other than tae sign her name, usually across at the pawn shoap in Possil when she wis trying t
ae get enough money tae put some food oan the table fur Tam and Wee Mary.
“Ah go tae a graphologist class…as a hobby,” he explained tae the baffled expressions oan view across fae him. “Haunwriting, signatures specifically. Your wan speaks volumes aboot somewan wae a determined character, so it dis.”
“Whit, jist hers?” Betty asked, surprised at the turn ae events.
“Aye, Ah suppose Ah am…we aw dae…speak volumes, that is, if ye wur tae think aboot it,” Issie mused shyly, no used tae being spoken tae by somewan in a tie that wisnae threatening tae jail her or take her up before the debtors court.
“Eh?” Betty asked, turning tae look at Issie tae see if The Banker hid goat the right person.
“Ah think whit Issie is saying is, we’re aw survivors in oor ain wee way, is that no right, Issie, hen?” Sharon asked, feeling the need tae butt-in before Betty took the hump and threatened the nice bank manager fur no including her signature in his admiration tae. “Ye wur saying, Mr McMillan?”
“Oh, right, well, let’s jist horse oan, shall we? Ah jist hiv a few wee questions tae ask. Of course, Ah kin dae it individually, in private wae everywan, if they’d prefer, or…”
“Naw, jist you fire away. There’s very little that anywan in here disnae know aboot the others,” Sharon interjected, hivving caught sight ae the panic light up Issie’s face.
“Oh, well, if everywan’s okay wae that then,” he replied, as everywan nodded. “So, is there any reason that wid gie me cause fur concern aboot youse opening up an account fur…fur…”
“Springburn’s Larder.”
“Springburn’s Larder?”
Silence.
“Mrs Campbell?”
“Well, we only jist started tae dae funerals and wedding a few months ago,” Sharon started.
“And a few weeks since we came up wae oor snazzy new name,” Ann butted in.
“And noo that we’re rolling in it, we need somewhere tae stash oor dosh tae stoap they lazy bastu…er, men ae oors getting their hauns oan it, so we dae,” Soiled Sally admitted, hitching up her boobs tae gie hersel something tae dae wae they hauns ae hers.
“Bit, in the meantime, the profits hiv went fae aboot three percent ae oor turno’er tae o’er five hunner percent per engagement, so they hiv,” Sharon explained, glowering at the others tae shut the hell up and let her dae the talking, as agreed beforehaun, as the great nephew ae Harold McMillan jist aboot fell aff ae that chair ae his oan tae his arse.
“And, er, how many engagements would you average per month?”
“A month? Oh, Ah’ve never really thought aboot that, hiv youse?”
“Well, it’s only in the last month we’ve been charging people an erm and a leg, so it is,” Ann volunteered.
“Aye, bit demand is growing, so it is,” Betty assured him, in case he changed his mind aboot them.
“So far, since we’ve upped oor prices, we’re averaging a couple ae funerals mid-week, so we ur. A couple ae the local funeral directors hiv been in contact and hiv asked if they kin pass oan oor contact details tae families wae oor price list. Weddings average wan or two every week as well, usually oan a Friday and Saturday,” Sharon said.
“Aye, and that could be anything fae a light scran in the efternoon fur close family members and guests, before the free fur aw at night, during the pish-up,” Issie added.
“So…” The Banker said.
“So, tae answer yer question. We’re raking in oan average, aboot two hunner and fifty quid a week, so we ur,” Sharon said tae the smiling bank manager, “Which, according tae Issie’s daughter, Wee Mary, who’s only fourteen, bit a genius wae figures, is roughly aboot thirteen grand a year, if we kin keep up wae the demand…”
“Mind you, we wur thinking ae taking oan mair staff,” Ann slung in.
“Ladies, Ah don’t usually tell people this, except fur ma special customers, that is, bit whit wid ye say if Ah telt ye that Ah’m related tae the wan and only Harold McMillan, so Ah am,” The Banker announced, no being able tae help himsel, sitting back waiting fur the astonished exclamations.
“Who?” a chorus ae voices asked.
“Oh, Ah know. He wis that wee funny guy wae the straw hat, who did aw his ain stunts, hinging oan a barber’s pole up the side ae a big building, oot in Hollywood back in the day, so he wis,” the hacket wan called Soiled Sally, who looked like Desperate Dan, who’d been sitting wae her legs open at quarter tae three earlier, hid exclaimed, before he could reply.
“Naw! Ye hivnae been tae Hollywood, hiv ye?” the wan called Ann asked him, starry-eyed.
“Ah’m sorry ladies, bit Ah think youse might hiv goat the wrang per…”
“Humphrey Bogart! In aw the gin joints in the world, Ah hiv tae come in here and bump in tae the likes ae you,” Issie drawled oot ae the side ae her gub, pointing a nicotine-stained finger in the general direction ae The Banker.
“Naw, naw, that’s no whit he said, Issie.”
“It bloody-well wis so. Tell Fatima here, Sharon,” Issie harrumphed.
“Look, ladies…”
“Of aw the gin joints, in aw the toons, in aw the world, she walks in tae mine,” Sharon reminded Betty, trying tae get them back oan track. “Ye wur saying, er, Mr McMillan…something aboot a relative who wis a famous actor…”
Chapter Thirty Six
“Collette? Whit ur ye daeing roond here?” Elvis exclaimed in surprise, doon oan his knees wae a bunch ae cables in his erms, peering up at her reflection in the mirror oan the wardrobe door.
“Ach, Ah jist thought Ah’d come and see how ye wur daeing…especially that napper ae yers.”
“Ma heid? Aye, well, it wid’ve been better if the stitches wur somewhere else insteid ae being in the middle ae that quiff ae mine,” he replied, staunin up, dumping the cables intae the cardboard box at the bottom ae the wardrobe, before leaning closer tae the mirror, gently teasing the hair apart tae hiv a wee swatch ae the black stitches.
“Well, at least it didnae affect yer voice…ye sounded really good, so ye did.”
“Ach, ye’re jist saying that. A week ago ye telt me ye thought Elvis wis deid,” he chided her, turning roond and smiling. “Grab a seat while Ah sort oot this mic staun.”
“Ah’m jist nipping doon tae the dairy, Elvis. Ah won’t be long,” Pricilla shouted oan the way past the bedroom door.
“Don’t furget the honey, Honey,” he shouted back, smiling. “Did ye know that bacteria cannae live in honey, as it’s too pure fur it?”
“Ah never knew ye wur intae the Bay City Rollers,” Collette said, sitting oan the edge ae the bed, peering up at the posters.
“Ah’m no. This is Lisa Marie’s room…it’s the only room that’s goat a full size mirror oan the back ae the wardrobe door. She hates me being in here.”
“Is she intae Elvis Presley as well?”
“She claims she isnae, bit it disnae stoap her playing Mud and Showaddydaddy records hauf the time.”
“So, whit’s the significance there then?”
“Ach, you’re as bad as her.”
“Naw, seriously, Ah don’t know,” she shot back, laughing.
“Rock’n’Roll…they’re aw fifties covers. At least Elvis wis original, so he wis.”
“Look, aboot last night…Ah’m sorry, so Ah am.”
“Sorry? Aboot whit?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“It wis the stench ae the place so soon efter eating that Indian meal. Ah jist couldnae keep it doon, especially coming across them dragging a heidless horse across the flair oan the end ae meat hooks, leaving a trail ae blood in their wake.”
“If ye think that’s bad, ye should smell some ae the other places we come across.”
“Stoap it,” she cried oot, haudin her stomach. “Ah’m feeling sick jist thinking aboot it. How ur ye supposed tae get used tae something like that?”
“Ye’re no, bit it dis get easier the mair ye’re in amongst it. Ah don’t know if we’ll get another chance as good as that wan thou
gh. Let’s hope the auld scrappy oan Maryhill Road jist alang fae The International boozer proves mair fertile oan Wednesday night.”
“Eh?”
“There’s a pick-up oan Wednesday night fae across in the south side, so there is. Three vans ur picking up a load and Ah’m planning a wee surprise fur the buggers.”
“Whit? Bit ye cannae. It’s…it’s too dangerous. Look at last night.”
“Collette, if Ah don’t stoap this pick-up, then hauf ae Castlemilk will be clogging the wastepipes in their cludges while hauf the pensioners in the area will be heiding tae an early grave, so they will.”
“Look, ma inspector, Duggie Dougan, his warned me tae stay clear ae the black butchers. ‘Leave the organised gangs tae the Gruesome Twosome,’ he’s warned me.”
“The sergeants? Wis that no wan ae them we clocked last night?”
“Look, Ah know it looked bad, bit we don’t know whit wis gaun oan or being said.”
“Aw Ah know is that wan ae The Gruesome Twosome wis in there, laughing and talking as if they wur the best ae buddies, while he should’ve been arresting the buggers, especially that Streaky John McGinnis wan. Don’t tell me he isnae oan the receiving end ae a back-haunder.”
“It’s finding the proof that’s the …”
“Look, if ye’re saying ye’re no gonnae be there as back-up, then so be it, Collette, bit Ah’ll be up at The Barracks the morra night, so Ah will.”
“Tae dae whit? End up getting another clout o’er the heid wae a steel hook again? Aye, Ah kin see how that wid work. Ah’m no saying that Ah widnae support ye, bit you diving in there, aw guns blazing, is only gonnae get you or the baith ae us killed.”
“So, whit ur ye saying then?” he asked, bending o’er and picking up the box ae cables fae the bottom ae the wardrobe. “Kin ye get that door fur me?”
“Well, fur a start, Maryhill is oot ae ma area…that comes under The Marine, so it dis. And Ah’m telling ye right noo, they Partick boys won’t mess aboot if they find oot a bizzy fae another district is operating oan their patch withoot pre-warning them. And the other problem is…Ah’ve been suspended, so Ah hiv.”
