Ledmore Junction

by Ian Todd

  “When you speak to Jeffs on the telephone, make sure that you tell her that if she ever changes her mind, then we would still be interested in the property,” he’d said.

  He knew fine well that it hid been a long shot. In the meantime, he’d keep his eyes and ears open in the toon wae the time he hid left. The day might come when she might need the five grand. In the meantime, whit wis he tae dae wae the pair ae upstarts up at the croft?

  “Now then, Heckie, what do you suggest we do to teach that young pup a lesson, eh?”

  Chapter Fifty Four

  It wis the two bottles ae Clynellish Special Malt Whisky that hid swung it…that and the patter ae Cleftie Hannan.

  “This is fae Mrs Jeffs, Johnboy’s dear auntie,” he’d said in welcome, two minutes efter arriving at Happy Horizons Holiday Park.

  By the time Johnboy nipped across tae the caravan site, the party wis in full swing. They wur aw pished. Cleftie hid Flintlock and his and Senga’s near neighbours, Ewan MacKenzie and Findlay MacLeod, eating oot ae the palm ae his haun, as he sat there, recounting some tales fae his investigative work back in the toon. Johnboy hid tae admit he wis bloody funny.

  “Aye, the worst wan wis when Ah wis taking a photo through a glass skylight ae a big-time lawyer, who’d been shagging the wife ae the current editor ae The Glesga Echo. They’d jist finished playing ‘hide the sausage’ and wur lying back, quite contentedly looking up tae where Ah wis, passing a fag between them, when Ah suddenly plunged through the glass and landed face first, between the baith ae them oan the bed,” he’d said drily.

  “No!” Flintlock shouted, slapping his knee, as everywan cracked up.

  “Aye. Ah’d jist been leaning o’er, focussing that lens ae mine fur ma final shot ae the night, when Ah stepped oan a wet splurge ae bird-shit. Whit a bloody fright Ah gied them.”

  “So, what did they say, laddie?” Findlay asked, his eyes streaming wae tears.

  “Well, it wisnae bloody timber, Ah kin tell ye that,” Cleftie hid replied, in that dry tone ae voice ae his, sending everywan aff again.

  He knew that he widnae get much oot ae any ae them, so hid jist shot the craw back tae the croft. By the time he made it across Achmelvich Beach and up tae the tap ae the hill, Mr Hopkins wis sitting waiting fur him. At wan point, he’d thought he’d heard meowing when he’d been sitting there wae The Cackling Brothers and hid glanced across at Flintlock’s dirty windae a few times. Wance he reached the tap ae the hill, him and the cat jist sat in silence. Every noo and again, the distant sound ae laughter wafting across fae Flintlock’s reached them. Other than that, there wisnae a sound, other than the gently lapping waves reaching the sandy beach below them. There wis a full moon oot and the sky wis carpeted wae stars. Every few minutes, a shooting star whizzed across the sky like a silver bullet heidin towards the Garrabost Peninsula oan Lewis, across in the Outer Hebrides. It hid been strange hearing another Glaswegian voice, other than Senga’s. He wisnae sure if it wis because it wis a male’s voice, bit he’d felt a pang ae homesickness. It hid been the first time that hid happened since they’d baith moved up north. He’d always been truthful when he telt her he didnae miss the toon when she brought it up noo and again. He’d be quick tae remind her that he’d awready been away fur nearly three years, doon in Dumfries. He’d also point oot that he’d only been free a couple ae months before they’d moved up tae Lochinver.

  “Whit’s there tae miss?”

  The violence? The ducking and diving, wakening up in the morning, wondering if that wid be the day that somewan wid be putting a bullet in the back ae his heid? Aw very dramatic, bit plausible, especially considering they McGregors hid let fly the night ae Tony’s party. He’d worked hard at their relationship, despite whit she believed. Trust wis a big deal tae her…as it wis tae him. He supposed the difference between them wis that she wis awready settled in her career as a nurse. He still wisnae sure whit he’d be daeing a year doon the line. His last run-in wae Skull and the questions raised still hidnae been answered. There wur signs…aye, good wans, bit he still needed tae take it slowly. He needed a bit mair time. He knew his relationship wae Senga could be at stake, so he hid tae be sure ae himsel before he wis prepared tae put that at risk. Writing the book hid been a good diversion. It hid gied him time tae reflect, tae hiv a wee peek at whit wis o’er the horizon…plus, it hid kept Senga at bay fae trying tae force him intae daeing something that he knew he wisnae ready fur. Efter coming oot ae the hospital, oan the back ae a long stint doon in Dumfries YOI, he’d warned her that it wid take a bit ae time fur him tae come tae a decision oan whit he wanted tae dae wae his life, which maist ae the time she’d taken oan board. So far, everything hid been gaun tae plan. Strange though it might seem, he’d goat used tae being targeted…in fact, he kinda welcomed it. He wis convinced that the answers he sought wur tae be found in there somewhere, that aw the hassle wis meant tae be, that somehow there wis a reason behind the recent happenings. The issue fur him wis no being in control. It wisnae easy watching events unfold, hivving tae sit back, looking fur the sign that the move up north hid been the right wan and that he hidnae misread the message. The problem wae Senga, which he fully understood, wis that she always jumped straight tae the worst conclusion, making it aw the mair difficult fur him tae explain whit the score wis and where he wis at in his heid. The main thing fur him wis tae make sure that her future wis based oan solid foundations. He stood up, no wanting tae drag his eyes away fae whit nature wis confronting him wae. Assynt wis breath-taking.

  “Right, hairy arse, let’s go,” he said tae Mr Hopkins.

  He knew fine well that he wis in Shite Street as soon as he opened the front door. The stepladder wis staunin below the gaping hole ae the loft-hatch, up oan the tap landing. It wis true whit they said…every picture telt a story. He didnae need tae look twice at the two cardboard boxes sitting at the bottom ae the stepladder or the empty wan sitting at the bottom ae the stairs at his feet, tae suss oot that she’d been emptying the boxes that hid been sitting scattered aboot the hoose since they’d brought them up wae them at the end ae March. It wis pointless cursing, or aboot-turning and fucking aff back tae where him and the cat hid jist come fae. Why wait until the morra, when ye kin go and get yer face bitten aff the night before? He knew this wid be a bad wan, as he shut the door and stepped o’er the empty box, through tae the living room. She wis sitting stiffly at the table. She’d been greeting. He walked past her towards the kitchen and switched oan the kettle.

  “Dae ye want a cup?” he asked.

  Silence.

  The cat must’ve sussed oot that the fireworks wur aboot tae kick-aff, as he’d disappeared, the cowardly wee basturt. He knew that he wis noising her up, fannying aboot in the kitchen, making himsel a cup ae tea, insteid ae rolling aboot oan the flair in front ae her, pleading fur furgiveness. As soon as he’d clocked the stepladder, his brain hid automatically switched tae defensive mode. He couldnae help it, even if he tried. If people like him wur gonnae be oan the receiving end ae a sherricking, then it wis never aw wan sided. People like him didnae go in fur aw that lying back wae yer arse bared tae the world stuff, thinking ae God and country. The very fact that he’d done whit he hid in the first place, wis usually justification enough, so why allow regrets tae question his actions efter the fact? Totally illogical tae someone as normal as Senga, bit that’s how his brain hid always worked. He’d always found it amusing that people, like the judges, polis, the screws in the nick, always challenged him tae ‘man up’ and take responsibility fur his actions. It wid’ve been pointless tae try and explain that he’d never hid any problems in accepting responsibility fur anything he’d ever done. The issue fur him hid always been the way in which other people responded. He’d always found it difficult tae eat humble pie. Aw The Mankys hid. It wis a curse that hid instilled itsel intae that psyche ae his as a manky-arsed wee toe-rag, back in the early days ae running aboot in the Toonheid. Tae survive, ye attacked first, controlling the agenda by setting the
parameters, taking nae prisoners oan route. He couldnae respond any other way if he tried. That wis jist who he wis. The problem wae that approach wis that Senga wisnae jist anywan. She wisnae his jailer either, as she liked tae remind him every noo and again. He still hid a long way tae go in the change stakes. He knew that. Despite being able tae cut the tension in the air wae a knife, he wis determined tae stay calm, allow her her pound ae flesh. It wisnae a jail screw or a some bizzy that wis aboot tae hiv a go at him. She hidnae done anything wrang. She wisnae the enemy, he reminded himsel as he turned roond tae size the situation up. She hidnae moved, still sitting there upright wae her back tae him, watching his every move fae his reflection in the living room windae. He wanted tae run across and hug her, say he wis sorry, promise no tae dae it again, bit wis that whit she’d really hiv wanted him tae dae? He doubted it. She wid’ve awready been sitting there fur God knows how long, working oot whit she wis gonnae say, relishing the look oan his face when she delivered her ultimatum…or hid she awready made her mind up? He knew that, this time, she wis up fur a fight. Whitever the ootcome, he wis gonnae be the loser. This wis tae be Joan ae Arc versus Johnboy The Basturt. There wis only wan way tae tae find oot where he stood, he telt himsel.

  “So?” he said as casually as he could, sitting doon opposite her.

  “Whit’s this?” she asked quietly, clearly struggling tae contain the wrath she’d awready prepared fur him.

  It wis written aw o’er that face ae hers, as the scattered contents ae the pouch sitting oan the table between them taunted him.

  “That? That’s a Walther PPK-L semi-automatic pistol wae two fully loaded magazines containing fourteen .32 bullets between them. The other stuff is the cleaning kit,” he replied, no meaning tae shrug, and wincing as the gesture produced the same reaction he wid’ve goat if he’d leaned across and slapped her.

  Silence.

  “And whit…whit’s it fur?”

  “It aw depends. If ye’re wanting tae get shot ae somebody oan a permanent basis, then it widnae let ye doon. If ye want tae scare somewan, then it’ll definitely dae the trick…or, if ye want tae defend yersel, then there’s nothing Ah’d rather hiv oan me, than wan ae them,” he replied, noticing her nostrils dilate, before flaring up a wee notch.

  “So, why is it here…in ma hoose, hidden up the loft?”

  His brain wis quick tae remind him that it wis their hoose, so he’d nipped his response in the bud before it hid managed tae escape, by biting oan that tongue ae his.

  “It’s here, because it wis in wan ae the boxes we brought wae us,” he replied.

  “Oh, fuck off, Johnboy. Dae ye really think Ah’m bloody stupid or something? Why did Ah know ye wur gonnae come oot wae something like that?” she scoffed, exaggerating her sense ae control.

  “Fur the same reason that ye asked.”

  “Whit’s that supposed tae mean?” she spat, glaring at him.

  “Well, whit else wur ye wanting me tae say? It’s the truth.”

  “The truth?” she asked, sounding bewildered, leaning her heid forward oan tae her haun, her elbow taking the weight ae it, starting tae weep, shaking her heid. “The truth?”

  Silence.

  “Johnboy, dae you even know whit the word truth actually means?” she asked in wonder, back tae being a bit mair composed efter her wee ootburst.

  Silence.

  “Ah’m jist no sure aboot you. It…it’s as if Ah don’t know the person Ah’m living wae,” she confessed, shaking her heid again, looking doon at the back ae her hauns. “Ah’m supposed tae be happy, in love and wae whit? Ah don’t know if ye’re still a gangster…”

  “Of course, Ah’m no a gangster,” he butted in. “And fur your information, Ah never wis…at least, no a real wan.”

  “Naw? Then, whit the hell is that thing daeing sitting oan the middle ae ma bloody dining table?” she screamed at him.

  “Ah telt ye. It came up the road in wan ae the boxes. It wis only wance we wur here that Ah came across it.”

  “So, why did ye no get rid ae it then, eh? Why? Wis it because you thought that it might come in handy someday?”

  “Naw…maybe…who knows?”

  “Ah’m sorry, Johnboy. Ah cannae cope wae this. Either you move oot ae here the morra or Ah am.”

  “Ach, Senga…”

  “Don’t bloody ach, Senga, me, Johnboy Taylor. Ah warned ye. Ah telt ye Ah wanted nothing tae dae wae they pals ae yers. We wur meant tae be starting afresh. Ye’ve totally destroyed any faith Ah hid in ye, so ye hiv. How long his it lasted…four…five months?”

  “Look, it’s no whit ye think, so it’s no.”

  “Look, don’t sit there and try and make any excuses. Ah’m sick ae yer lies, so Ah am. Nae wonder the lassies laughed at me. Aye, laughed! They telt me that leopards never change their spots. Ah defended you, so Ah did,” she cursed him.

  “Naw, Senga, you wur defending yersel. Fuck whit the lassies said. This is aboot you and me. Don’t bring them intae this. If you want me tae explain, then fine. If you want us tae split up, then Ah’ll respect yer decision and move oan.”

  “Ah jist cannae believe this,” she muttered tae hersel, back talking tae hersel again, shaking her heid.

  “Look, Ah know it looks bad, bit at least let me explain.”

  “Explain?” she asked, back tae that ‘wondrous’ tone ae voice again.

  “The reason Ah signed masel oot ae The Royal wis because there wis a lot happening in the toon. That’s why Tony wanted me oot ae there and intae the flat. The people they wur dealing wae at the time wurnae up fur taking any prisoners. Somewan like me, lying up there in a bed, wis jist as good a target as getting wan ae them oot oan the street. Christ, look whit happened tae Snappy and Peter? Tony and Simon gied it tae me fur protection, alang wae that four hunner bucks that ye discovered efter ye moved in.”

  “Bucks?” she scowled, exaggerating her incredulity again, screwing that face ae hers up. “Christ, ye even bloody talk like a gangster, Johnboy.”

  “Aw, fuck aff, Senga. Ah’m jist trying tae explain the truth ae whit happened here, so Ah am.”

  “Ah cannae cope we any mair ae this.”

  “Any mair ae whit?”

  “You, the lies, no knowing whit goes oan in that heid ae yours, wondering whit the hell Ah’m gonnae be confronted wae, every time Ah walk through that door.”

  Silence.

  “Ah warned ye…Ah telt ye that Ah wisnae prepared tae hiv any ae they pals ae yours up here.”

  “He’s no ma pal. Ah telt ye. He’s up here oan behauf ae Donna The Prima Donna. She sent him up. He’s a private dick.”

  “Ye jist don’t get it, dae ye?”

  “Actually, Ah dae. Mair than you gie me credit fur. That laird wan isnae gonnae let up, despite whit you may think. That basturt’s trying tae buy this place back aff ae Donna. When she telt him tae fuck aff, he started putting the mix in back in the toon, stirring it up. He’s a fucking maniac, so he is.”

  “He’s a maniac? Youse ur aw maniacs, you, yer pals, Donna. Ah should’ve known better,” she wept, blowing her nose intae her hanky, before wiping away her tears.

  “Look, whitever’s happening isnae involving us. It’s Donna’s fight noo. The guy’s jist up here tae hiv a wee look aboot and then he’ll be gone. Two days max.”

  “He kin hiv this place noo, fur aw Ah care.”

  “Who?”

  “Who dae ye think?”

  “Ah’d rather burn this fucking place doon than let that basturt get his hauns oan it.”

  “Right, Ah’m aff tae ma bed,” she suddenly announced, staunin up. “Ah’m telling ye, Johnboy. This is it. Either you’re oot ae here or Ah’ll be. Ah want that thing oot ae here…the night,” she snarled, referring tae the PPK.

  “Well, that isnae gonnae happen…no at this time ae the night, it isnae,” he replied, letting his guard doon, cursing himsel under his breath, as she heided fur the living room door.

  He knew he’d goat aff lightly. Apa
rt fae the dumping him bit, she’d stayed relatively calm under the circumstances, which hid helped. At least they hidnae said anything that they’d come tae regret…apart fae her ultimatum. She widnae last a month living in the croft oan her lonesome, despite whit she believed. MacLeod and they boys ae his wid see tae that. Look whit hid happened tae Angelina MacLeod’s auld maw? Donna wis oan the case. He hid tae somehow keep Senga grounded meantime. If, efter that, she wanted him oot ae the croft and her life, then so be it…bit no jist noo. Things wur starting tae become clearer. He needed a wee bit mair time. He’d jist aboot drapped the receiver in the phone box efter Donna hid telt him that The Laird wis high up in the polis. Civvy or no, he wis in a position tae dae a lot ae damage. She’d made him hing up efter gieing her the phone box number, a precaution against him using the ‘Ah’m running oot ae coins’ excuse, which he widnae hiv used.

  “Why did ye no tell me whit the score wis up there, when Ah spoke tae ye the last time?” she’d demanded tae know, efter she’d made him tell her everything that hid been happening since they’d moved in.

  Everywan knew that Shug The Rub, wan ae The Big Man and Wan-bob Broon’s bears hid been blasted at point blank range by a double-barrelled shotgun ootside The Duke’s Inn Arms alang in Duke Street by The McGregors, the same night as Tony’s party and The Capstan Club hid been blown up. He’d jist been another target, alang wae the rest, that hid copped their whack that night efter Papa McGregor and Victor Ruth hid been wasted across in Govan earlier that same day by The Mankys. The fact that The Laird hid tried tae take advantage ae a verbal agreement between Donna and Shuggie Morrison, jist went tae show whit a low-doon shitehoose they wur dealing wae. He couldnae help himsel and hid laughed when she’d telt him she wis up fur some award fae the Queen hersel.