by Ian Todd
Chapter Seventy Six
“Senga? Where the hell did ye dig that name up fae?” she demanded tae know, looking up at him, as he entered the living room.
“Oh, is that fur me?” he asked, smiling, lifting up a slice ae toast fae her plate, before plapping his arse doon oan the windae sill, looking across at her. “Agnes spelt backwards, if ye must know,” he admitted.
“Ha, ha, of course…Ah should’ve known. Ah don’t look like a Senga, dae Ah?” she scoffed dismissively, laughing, shaking her mane ae blond hair, before flicking it aff her shoulders wae they slim fingers ae hers.
“Ye look lovely…especially in that pair ae wee tight shorts, so ye dae. So? Whit dae ye think then?” he asked, nodding at the pile ae paper in front ae her.
“Whit dae Ah think? Ah think it’s absolutely pure dead brilliant, so Ah dae. And funny? Christ, Ah’ve never laughed so much fur ages. The bit when Johnboy’s up at the scabies clinic wae Mrs Foghorn Leghorn and her pal in the shower room? Bloody hilarious. And how ye describe being through in the treatment room and you getting yer body painted wae a six-inch paint brush? Ah jist aboot wet masel. Ah’m glad that it never happened tae me. Some ae the lassies at school admitted tae being sent up there, bit they never went intae any detail, the poor wee things. Mind you, Ah could jist picture you dancing away in the shower wae yer manky feet and a black tide mark roond yer scrawny neck, oblivious tae everything roond aboot ye, singing ‘Satisfaction.’ Also, the bit where ye couldnae figure oot if the talking machine behind the wee reception windae wae the broon finger oan its haun hid been fixing itsel, or the owner hid been scratching her arse? Bloody hilarious, so it wis. Ye know, ye always wur dead funny when we wur at primary school, even if it wisnae always intentional oan your part. Ah remember Ah used tae sit there in anticipation every morning, wondering whit the hell ye wur gonnae come oot wae next.”
“So, that’s whit aw the laughing wis aboot that woke me up…me getting upset by aw they big mammas up at the scabies clinic? Thanks,” he snorted, exaggerating his hurt, as the baith ae them laughed.
“And where did the name Johnboy Taylor come fae? Ah’m no sure being called Johnboy suits ye, so Ah’m no.”
“It’s a name…Ah didnae want tae use ma real wan…the book’s supposed tae be fictional, remember?”
“Ah must admit, ye did bring a wee tear tae ma eye when ye wrote the bit where ye’d stood wae yer finger oan the wee bell doon at the reception, wae yer clothes still stuck tae ye, getting ten rings worth ae being ignored, before taking the hint and heidin through the doors, oot intae Ugly Territory and heidin back doon towards the toon centre and school. Ah wanted tae dash up they stairs and gie ye a big hug, so Ah did, bit remembered jist in time that ye hidnae hid yer morning shower yet.”
“Aw, that’s nice.”
“Ah’m jist no sure where the love story is though, apart fae wanting tae stick yer tongue doon the back ae ma throat in Olive Oyl’s class, ya manky wee bugger, ye,” she said, screwing up her face, as the baith ae them smiled.
“Aye, Ah kin remember looking at ye efter being doon in Batty, the heidmaster’s office, wondering whit yer reaction wid’ve been if Ah’d tried ma haun. Ah wis right jealous ae Tony and aw they female fans ae his up in The Carlton oan a Saturday efternoon, so Ah wis. As Ah telt ye the other night there, oan the love story front, it is a love story…in a roond aboot way. There’s jist wan wee problem though.”
“Oh?”
“Unfortunately, it’s clear noo that it wullnae be completed in the wan book. First thing the morra, Ah’m gonnae hiv tae start oan the next wan,” he admitted, shrugging they shoulders ae his.
“Whit? Another book?” she asked, sounding surprised, looking doon at the thick bundle ae sheets sitting in front ae her that she’d still tae read through.
“Aye…Ah reckon it’ll take another book tae complete it. Ah warned ye…this thing will end up being the longest bloody love story ever telt, so it will,” he replied, as the baith ae them chuckled.
“So, hiv ye goat a name fur the next wan then? Parly Road threw me a wee bit, so it did. Ah wis expecting something along the lines ae ‘At Last…They Done it.’”
“Ha! Ha! Ah think the next wan’s getting called Run Johnboy Run.”
“Run Johnboy Run? Aye, that sounds a wee bit better...jist so long as it disnae gie people the impression that it wis me that ye wur running away fae,” she warned him, as they baith laughed again. “Ah’m still no convinced wae the Senga and Johnboy tags though. Why could it no hiv been something like Romeo and Juliet?”
“Because their story’s awready been telt.”
“Aye, Ah suppose,” she agreed, nodding.
“Oh, by the way, Ah goat offered a job yesterday…by somewan across in Lairg.”
“You? A job? Ye mean a real job?”
“Sort ae.”
“Sort ae? Whit’s that supposed tae mean?”
“By The Highland Crofters Association.”
“Daeing whit?”
“Assistant Crofting Organiser fur Assynt and North West Sutherland. Seemingly, ma skills ur transferable, so they ur.”
“Really? And whit skills wid that be then?”
“Ah think the words, persuasive and project planning wur mentioned in there. Ah’ll only be daeing it in ma spare time though…as a volunteer like.”
“Why kin they no pay ye like everywan else?”
“Because they don’t hiv any money, that’s why. Whit dae ye think?”
“Whit dae Ah think?” she asked, looking at him, thinking aboot it fur a few seconds. “Will it keep ye oot ae trouble?”
“Probably no,” he admitted, smiling.
“Well, who am Ah tae keep a bad boy like you doon?” she said. “Jist so long as that next book gets written and Ah come across as a being a pure wee angel in it.”
“Agnes, ye’ve always been a pure wee angel…and no only tae me either.”
“Ach, well, Ah’m still no sure ae that Senga name, so Ah’m no. We’ll maybe hiv tae work oan that wan.”
“Look, why don’t you carry oan reading. Ye’ve obviously goat heaps tae read and Noah and his trusty cat here will go and check oot his flock,” he said, gieing her a wee kiss before grabbing his jaicket aff the back ae her chair, as him and Mr Hopkins heided fur the lobby. “When Ah get back, Ah’ll tell ye who Ah bumped intae yesterday. Ye’re no gonnae believe it, so ye’re no.”
Postscript:
Historical facts that contributed to the writing of Ledmore Junction:
Highland Crofters
In 1993, a group of crofter tenants on a 21,000-acre estate once owned by the wealthy Vestey Family in Assynt, Sutherland, were faced with the prospect of the land they worked and lived on being sold out from under them to the highest bidder, by the receiver of a foreign bankrupt company.
Led by three crofters, Bill Ritchie, John MacKenzie and Allan MacRae, a local volunteer steering group of crofters was formed to fight off possible fragmentation of the land by aiming for 100% crofter ownership. If successful, the purchase would have been a milestone in crofting history in Scotland.
The story of these three remarkable crofters and the community’s success in beating off rivals on the open market reverberated not only around Scotland, but throughout the world and inspired many other communities in Scotland to pick up the gauntlet and throw off the yokes that had been suppressing small rural crofting communities for hundreds of years in the Highlands.
The Laird Of Aberlour
In May, 1995, Tony Wilson, a senior civilian accountant with The Metropolitan Police in London, was sentenced to seven and a half years in prison for embezzling £6m pounds from a secret police fund. With the money, Wilson set himself up as The Laird Of Tomintoul in the Highlands of Scotland. After moving his wife and two daughters north, Wilson went on a massive spending spree that included the twenty nine bedroom Grouse’s Nest Hotel and Bar in Tomintoul, Morayshire. He then went on to spend a further £1.8M pounds renovating it. Other s
pending included purchasing the village’s old fire station, a former beautiful old Church of Scotland manse with huge gardens, holiday homes in the area and a large villa on the Costa del Sol. When arrested at the old manse, Police discovered that taking pride of place on either side of a large photograph of Winston Churchill, was an equally impressive gilt frame containing Wilson’s ‘Certificate Award for Long and Meritorious Service’ that had been presented by none other than the then Metropolitan Crime Commissioner, Sir Peter Imbert and on the other side of the great leader, another gilt frame containing a caricature cartoon by an unknown artist of Williams posing in a football jersey with a large ‘Loadsamoney’ badged motif on it. During his trial, it came to light that Williams, who had no staff supervision, paid cheques directly into his own bank account from a secret Metropolitan Police ‘Organised Crime’ account that he had sole responsible for managing. Wilson was only found out when a new bank manager became suspicious.
You can keep up to date with The Mankys and Johnboy Taylor on The Glasgow Chronicles’ website and Ian Todd’s Facebook page for The Glasgow Chronicles:
www.theglasgowchronicles.com
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Parly Road is the first book in The Glasgow Chronicles series by Ian Todd and is also available on Amazon:
It is the summer of 1965 and things are looking up for ten-year-old Johnboy Taylor in the Townhead district of Glasgow. Not only has he made two new pals, who have recently come to his school after being expelled from one of the local Catholic schools, but their dream of owning their own pigeon loft or ‘dookit’ and competing with the city’s grown-up ‘doo-men’ in the sport they love, could soon become a reality. The only problem is that The Mankys don’t have the dosh to pay for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Lady Luck begins to shine down on them when Pat Molloy, aka The Big Man, one of Glasgow’s top heavies asks them to do him a wee favour. The Mankys are soon embroiled in an adult world of gangsters, police corruption, violence and crime.
Meanwhile, Johnboy’s mother, Helen Taylor is busy trying to keep one step ahead of the local Provi-cheque men and organising a group of local women to demonstrate against the Corporation’s Sheriff officer’s warrant sales.
Set against the backdrop of a condemned tenement slum area, the fate of which has already been decided upon as it stands in the way of the city’s new Inner Ring Road motorway development, the boys soon realise that to survive on the streets, they have to stay one step ahead of those in authority. The only problem for The Mankys is working out who’s really in charge.
Parly Road is full of the shadiest characters that 1960s Glasgow has to offer and takes the reader on a rollercoaster journey that has been described as irreverently hilarious, bad-assed, poignantly sad and difficult to put down.
Run Johnboy Run is the second book in The Glasgow Chronicles series and is also available on Amazon:
It is 1968 and The Mankys are back with a vengeance after 13-year-old Johnboy Taylor is confronted by a ghost from his past. The only problem is, he’s just been sentenced to 3 years at Thistle Park Approved School, which houses Scotland’s wildest teen tearaways. Without his liberty, Johnboy is in no position to determine whether the devastating revelation is a figment of his vivid imagination or whether dark forces are conspiring against him.
Elsewhere in the city, Glasgow crime lord, Pat Molloy, aka The Big Man, is plotting to topple those who he believes were responsible for putting him out of the city’s thriving ‘Doo’ business three years earlier. Unfortunately for him, The Irish Brigade, a group of corrupt police inspectors, who rule the city with an iron fist, are not about to stand by and allow anyone to dip their fingers into their honey pot, without a fight.
Meanwhile, Helen Taylor, Johnboy’s mother, has come up with a dangerous plan that she believes will finally overturn The City Corporation’s policy of selling their tenants’ household goods through humiliating public warrant sales. Reluctantly, she is forced to join forces with The Glasgow Echo’s sleazy top crime reporter, Sammy ‘The Rat’ Elliot, whose shadowy reputation of having more than one master makes him feared and reviled by the underworld and the establishment in equal measure.
Run Johnboy Run is an explosive tale of city crime in 1960s Glasgow, involving a heady mix of establishment leaders and gangsters, who will use anyone to keep control of the city’s lucrative underworld. The only problem is, can anyone really be trusted?
With more faces than the town clock, Run Johnboy Run dredges up the best scum the city has to offer and throws them into the wackiest free-for-all double-crossing battle that Glasgow has witnessed in a generation and The Mankys are never far from where the action is.
The Lost Boy And The Gardener’s Daughter is the third book in The Glasgow Chronicles series and is also available on Amazon:
It is 1969 and 14-year-old Paul McBride is discharged from Lennox Castle Psychiatric Hospital after suffering a nervous breakdown whilst serving a 3-year sentence in St Ninian’s Approved School in Stirling. St Ninians has refused to take Paul back because of his disruptive behaviour. As a last resort, the authorities agree for Paul to recuperate in the foster care of an elderly couple, Innes and Whitey McKay, on a remote croft in the Kyle of Sutherland in the Scottish Highlands. They have also decided that if Paul can stay out of trouble for a few months, until his 15th birthday, he will be released from his sentence and can return home to Glasgow.
Unbeknown to the authorities, Innes McKay is one of the most notorious poachers in the Kyle, where his family has, for generations, been in conflict with Lord John MacDonald, the Duke of the Kyle of Sutherland, who resides in nearby Culrain Castle.
Innes is soon teaching his young charge the age-old skills of the Highland poacher. Inevitably, this leads to conflict between the street-wise youth from the tenements in Glasgow and the Duke’s estate keepers, George and Cameron Sellar, who are direct descendants of Patrick Sellar, reviled for his role in The Highland Clearances.
Meanwhile, in New York city, the Duke’s estranged wife orders their 14-year-old wild-child daughter, Lady Saba, back to spend the summer with her father, who Saba hasn’t had contact with since the age of 10. Saba arrives back at Culrain Castle under escort from the American Pinkerton Agency and soon starts plotting her escape, with the help of her old primary school chum and castle maid, Morven Gabriel. Saba plans to run off to her grandmother’s estate in Staffordshire to persuade her Dowager grandmother to help her return to America. After a few failed attempts, Lady Saba finally manages to disappear from the Kyle in the middle of the night and the local police report her disappearance as a routine teenage runaway case.
Meanwhile in Glasgow’s Townhead, Police intelligence reveals that members of a notorious local street gang, The Mankys, have suddenly disappeared off the radar. It also comes to the police’s attention that, Johnboy Taylor, a well-known member of The Mankys, has escaped from Oakbank Approved School in Aberdeen.
Back in Strath Oykel, the local bobby, Hamish McWhirter, discovers that Paul McBride has disappeared from the Kyle at the same time as Lady Saba.
When new intelligence surfaces in Glasgow that Pat Molloy, The Big Man, one of Glasgow’s top crime lords, has put the word out on the streets that he is offering £500 to whoever can lead him to the missing girl, the race is on and a nationwide manhunt is launched across Scotland’s police forces to catch Paul McBride before The Big Man’s henchmen do.
The Lost Boy and The Gardener’s Daughter is the third book in The Glasgow Chronicles series. True to form, the story introduces readers to some of the most outrageous and dodgy characters that 1960s Glasgow and the Highlands can come up with, as it follows in the footsteps of the most unlikely pair of road–trippers that the reader will ever come across. Fast-paced and with more twists and turns than a Highland poacher’s bootlace, The Lost Boy and The Gardener’s Daughter will have the readers laughing and crying from start to finish.
The Mattress is the fourth book in The Glasgo
w Chronicles series and is also available on Amazon:
In this, the fourth book of The Glasgow Chronicles series, dark clouds are gathering over Springburn’s tenements, in the lead up to the Christmas holiday period of 1971. The Mankys, now one of Glasgow’s foremost up and coming young criminal gangs, are in trouble…big trouble…and there doesn’t seem to be anything that their charismatic leader, Tony Gucci, can do about it. For the past year, The Mankys have been under siege from Tam and Toby Simpson, notorious leaders of The Simpson gang from neighbouring Possilpark, who have had enough of The Mankys, and have decided to wipe them out, once and for all.
To make matters worse, Tony’s mentor, Pat Molloy, aka The Big Man and his chief lieutenant, Wan-bob Brown, have disappeared from the Glasgow underworld scene, resulting in Tony having to deal with Shaun Murphy, who has taken charge of The Big Man’s criminal empire in The Big Man’s absence. Everyone knows that Shaun Murphy hates The Mankys even more than The Simpsons do.