A Billy or a Dan, or an Old Tin Can

by Paul Kelly

“Not tonight, Meggie. I have a business appointment and it may go on until late. Another time, dear please.”

  She was about to pursue the matter further but he got up from his desk and opened the door of his office for her to leave. Meggie watched him though the glass partition that separated his office from the typing pool as she stood in silence with the eyes of the typists glaring at her as their typewriters came to a sudden halt. She waited for him to look at her as she stood there, but he never did. She wasn’t sure if she was beginning to imagine things already, but several of the office staff stared at her as she returned to her desk and she quickly ran into the toilet.

  “Don’t think I’m being nosy, Meggie, but you don’t look at all well.”

  Thelma from the typing pool stood near her as Meggie studied her face in the mirror and started to wash her hands. She did not answer, but continued to look blankly at the wall. “Are you alright, Meggie?”

  Meggie continued in her silent stare, but her face was pale.

  “It’s old Schofield, isn’t it, love?”

  Meggie was surprised at Thelma’s remark as she turned to scrutinize her.

  “What do you mean?” she asked and her voice shook nervously.

  Thelma waited for a moment as she dried her hands, before she looked at Meggie’s image in the mirror.

  “Don’t be hurt Meggie. You are the latest of his conquests, that’s all. He changes them every few weeks. It was me about six months ago, so I know what you’re going through but believe me love. He’s not worth it.”

  Meggie could feel her legs giving way under her and Thelma grabbed a chair for her to sit down. This was information that she did not want to hear, but her heart already told her that she should accept the truth. She stood up and walked to the door before she broke down and cried. Thelma rushed to her and brought her back to the chair where she had been sitting.

  “Let it all out, love. He’s not worth this pain you’re going through. Forget him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The topic at St. Bon’s was very different from that of the Fellowship Insurance Company. No one carried a torch for anyone there and the boys talked endlessly and excitedly about the recent air-raid. Even the party took second place in the babble of conversation. Any pupil who was not present was immediately presumed killed and in the most horrific circumstances and every pupil looked anxiously for absentees without success. There was a full compliment of pupils and staff that day.

  “Good morning, Sir.”

  Mr. Finnecan marched past the boys as they stood to attention, ignoring their salutations.

  “The old bugger’s in a rotten mood today We’d better watch out,” cried Ackie and held his hand across his mouth as he whispered, “All on parade Sir. Idiots ONE, TWO and THREE “ He emphasised the numbers, forming them clearly on his lips and Wattie tried to smile but his face got fixed as Ackie chuckled on “I’m only here for another three weeks anyway and then we’re off to Aberdeen.”

  Willie smiled, acknowledging Ackie’s statement and nodding his head.

  “I wonder if I play my cards right, will I get promotion to Idiot One, Ackie?” he said and both the boys grinned, but Wattie looked on with serious concern First at Willie and then at Ackie.

  “I never thought about that,” he said, “I would be Idiot Two then, wouldn’t I Willie?”

  Willie chuckled and nodded again as Wattie began to realise the situation and was smiling pleasantly at the prospects of taking Willie’s place in the line of Idiots. The thought of this promotion thrilled him since Willie’s title was only to be admired.

  The bell rang and the pupils trooped into their classes. Finnecan scanned the sea of young faces as they stood for morning prayers. His dark eyes looked intently at each child as if to judge each pupils character by his features in one swift glance, like a camera and he made a profound Sign of the Cross as he concluded the prayers of Form One ‘D’

  “Sit down,” he commanded solemnly and glared again around the class. “It has been brought to my notice that we have a thief amongst us. I demand to know who this boy is and I want to know NOW this minute. I’ll give the culprit to the count of five to own up and if he doesn’t, I’ll punish five boys at random, in this class do you understand?”

  He did not wait for an answer before he started to count. ONE, TWO, THREE.... The room was as silent as a tomb until a feeble voice could be heard from somewhere in the centre of the class.

  “I did it Sir.”

  All eyes turned to Wattie in surprise as he stood in his humble act of self accusation. He shuffled from one foot to the other and blinked. There was a protracted pause before the Form Master spoke again and he licked his lips in gleeful preparation for the feast that was to come. His knuckles appeared white against his cane and his fingers itched in anticipated triumph.

  “Tell the class what you stole, boy?”

  There was a giggle from one of the boys at the back of the class and Finnecan shot through the aisle so that he was standing beside the culprit in seconds. He closed his eyes in tolerance and tapped his hand with his cane.

  “Do you think this is funny, lad?” he asked and the accused stood up. His face was white with fear as he leaned forwards on the desk in front of him as though to support himself and his hands left an impression of perspiration on the polished wood.

  “Ouch!”

  Finnecan’s cane came down with a swish and hit the boy hard across the knuckles of his right hand. Tears filled his eyes as he lowered his head.

  “Does anyone else find this matter something to snigger about?” asked Finnecan, looking around slowly with narrowed eyes as he spoke, but no-one answered.

  “Now Idiot 3,” Finnecan scanned Wattie’s face as he spoke, “Let us all hear what you stole.”

  Wattie looked totally dejected as he mouthed the words. There was a deathly hush and every one held their breath to hear the ‘crime’ as the Form Master thrust his head down nearer to Wattie’s mouth.

  “I can’t hear you boy ...Can’t hear a single word. Louder please. We all want to know what you STOLE “ Finnecan said and he shouted the last word.

  “Two bottles of milk, Sir ...”

  Willie looked at Wattie in amazement and the rest of the class starting breathing again, some with exaggerated sighs of relief.

  “Were they yours to take?” asked Finnecan, with a ring of sarcasm in his tone as he threw his head back and sniffed into the air.

  “No Sir, but I thought they were spare as they were in the crate to go back to the kitchen and ...”

  Finnecan cut him short as he banged his cane down hard on the desk in front of Wattie and the boy jumped.

  “We don’t want to know what you THOUGHT, lad. I asked you a simple question and I would like a simple answer, IF YOU PLEASE, Idiot 3 Now I shall repeat myself, in the event that you may have some hearing defect.

  “WERE THEY YOURS TO TAKE?” he screamed and his saliva bounced in the air. He stared into Wattie’s face and his eyes grew wider and wilder. Wattie swallowed and looked around the class, hoping for some support from somewhere from anywhere and at last his eyes rested on Willie. His imploring gesture needed no words to explain.

  “No Sir,” Wattie answered meekly.

  “Hold out your hand,” snapped Finnecan and his lips tightened with self-righteousness as his head swung back on his shoulders. Wattie did so, reluctantly and looked again at Willie as he awaited his punishment. C R A S H ...! The cane came down with full force and Wattie doubled up, nestling his bruised hands under his arm.

  “Again,” Finnecan demanded.

  Wattie looked with pathetic pleading at the little man with the cane, but there was no mercy. C R A S H ... A second blow was dealt.

  “Again ...”

  Before Wattie could respond through his pent up tears,
Willie Blair stepped forward.

  “I’ll take the cane for him, Sir. One idiot is just as good as another.”

  Finnecan stared at Willie as he stood erect before him in calm defiance with his head reaching high above the teacher and he stretched his hands out before him. The class waited the results in silence and Finnecan’s eyes narrowed as he mentally reviewed the situation, tapping his cane into his left palm. He looked from Willie to his bruised and crying friend.

  “Your solicitude is touching,” he snarled, “Will you cuddle him in comforting sympathy before the class Idiot 2, or is that something you would prefer to do in private together.”

  Willie stared into Finnecan’s eyes, awaiting his answer. The boy’s cool demeanour was like a rain shower over the heated little man, who either could not, or would not look into

  Willie’s eyes in return.

  “Get back to your places ... both of you,” he snapped and proceeded to walk from the classroom, but as he reached the door, he shouted, “This matter is closed, but I don’t ever want to hear of any theft in my class again. Do you all understand?”

  The class stood up as he closed the door behind him, swishing his cane as he strutted up the corridor.

  ***

  The boys met in the playground and Wattie nursed his raw and swollen hands. He had stopped crying but his voice shook with emotion.

  “Thanks Willie. Thanks a lot ....”

  Willie put his arm around Wattie’s shoulder as they walked to the far end of the playground and sat down on a mound of grass.

  “What did you want that milk for anyway, Wattie? You never drink milk, do you?”

  Wattie sniffed and used his sleeve as he glanced furtively towards the school door, half expecting Finnecan to appear thereat any moment, waving his cane.

  “I heated it up for Florrie, you know, Florrie my wee dug. She’s no’ very well an’ she likes milk,” Wattie looked desperately guilty as he offered his excuse and Willie raised his eyes to the sky.

  “You’ll have to go to confession NOW Immediately It won’t wait. If you die tonight Jimmy Watts, you will go straight to hell d’ya know that?” Wattie laughed and the humour broke the tension as Willie continued, “But don’t go to Father Kane for confession ...He likes milk. He’s an old wanker anyway,” Willie concluded as he pulled a clump of grass from nearby.

  “Who... Father Kane?”

  “Naw, ya daft bugger, no the priest ... Finnecan, I mean an’ he’s a stupit wanker.”

  At that moment Ackie joined them, anxious to tell them all about his flittin’ to Aberdeen. His mother was going there to take care of her invalid sister and they would be away for quite some time as his Auntie had contracted some sort of a disease, the name of which, he couldn’t pronounce. She had been reasonably well until about a month ago, when her husband had died and now she was very lonely and needed some companionship for a while

  “Is yer faither goin’ too?”

  Ackie loved his step-father as if he had been his real dad. His mother had remarried some years after the death of her husband but much to the disappointment of many of her relatives, she had married a ‘Billy’ .and much worse, she had married him in a Registry office too.

  “Yes, my dad’s coming with us an’ I won’t be sad to see the back of that old bugger, Finnecan,” said Ackie, “He gies me the creeps, the wee shit that he is.”

  “Good morning Mr. Finnecan “ Willie looked innocently surprised as he spoke and the other two jumped to their feet with fear, but only for a second until they realised the prank that had been played on them. They ran after Willie and he laughed aloud.

  “We think you’re an old bugger, Mr. Finnecan. We think you’re an old wanker, Mr. Finnecan Up yours Mr. Finnecan, Sir.”

  The trio ran back to the classroom laughing heartily, knowing full well, that they would all have to go to confession that evening ...

  ***

  Willie walked home with Wattie that afternoon after school. They had laughed about Finnecan earlier, but Wattie still had fear that he would hear more about the theft than he had done already.

  “How are you now Wattie?”

  “No’ bad thanks ... No bad at awe Willie ...”

  Willie knew that his friend was feeling low, because Wattie always had plenty to say, but there was an ominous silence as the boys strolled home together.

  “I’d like to join the navy when I leave school, Wattie. What about you?”

  Willie knew that whatever he wanted to do, Wattie would follow, or at least, he would want to follow and anyway, he felt the conversation might help to cheer him up, but Wattie wasn’t so predictable on this occasion and he looked miserable as he answered,

  “My mammy wants me to go to the university.”

  “But what do you want to do, Wattie?” Wattie looked longingly at Willie and his face lit up.

  “I’d like to join the navy wi’ you, Willie Blair. You’re ma best friend.”

  Wattie’s lips trembled as he spoke and Willie could sense that his tears were only moments away as he rushed to the rescue and continued,

  ` “Lots o’ lovely lassies look at sailors, Wattie. You know what they say A girl in every port an’ a port in every girl to keep her happy.”

  Wattie was soon restored to his normal self and walked faster to keep steps with his friend.

  “Wish I could be a sailor, Willie.”

  They sauntered along slowly allowing their dreams to take over.

  ‘Willie was walking along the streets of Paris with a French girl on his arm.

  She couldn’t understand a word he was saying, but his male charisma was all she wanted ...and all Willie needed .... She kept hold of his arm. On the other hand, Wattie was being serenaded by a dusky, grass-skirted maiden. She was leading him into a little grass hut to have her wicked way with him ...’

  “Jimmy Watts,” ... The shrieking voice of Wattie’s mother, awakened him rudely from his dream. “I’ll give you dawdlin’ home, when I’ve had yer tea on the table for the past forty minutes. Get in that hoose and wash yer hands afore I clip yer bloody ear for ye.”

  Wattie came down to earth with the proverbial bang, in obedience to his ambitious mother. He dodged past her into the house with his hands cupped around his ears, but Willie’s ploy had been successful and Wattie had forgotten all about the incident in the classroom. Willie chuckled at the thought of what Rita Watts would do to her prodigy when she got him behind closed doors, but he knew that her admonitions were always governed by love and that her bark was worse than her bite He walked on further ... a little way from the street in which he lived to see the building site where Charlie worked. The family called it Charlie’s Site, even if Charlie WAS only an apprentice labourer, come brickie ... He passed the shops near the Site and turned a sharp corner in the road.

  “Ouch! Crumbs, mate. Mind where you’re going, will ya?” Willie picked himself up from the ground to face Cathie Coutts on roller skates. She had come at him from out of the blue and she landed on her rear on the street, in front of him. Her mouth was busy wrestling with some chewing gum and she blew a large bubble as she sat there watching him.

  Willie sniffed for the smell of chips, but there was none and she switched the gum to the left side of her mouth as she started to speak.

  “Nice to se ye again .Do ye come here often?” She grinned and dusted her rah-rah skirt as she rose and balanced her skates, standing on her toes.

  “Mareseatoatsanddoeseatoatsandlittlelambseativy,” she sang breathlessly, making an exhibition of herself, thought Willie, but she smiled proudly, obviously aware of her talents.”Kids’lleativytoo,wouldn’tyou?” she went on and cocked her head to one side as she screwed up her face and finalised her act by showing him a rather red tongue. Willie walked on, trying to ignore her.

  “Want to have a g
o on my skates, Willie?” she asked as she blew a second bubble, even larger than the first, which burst with a plop and covered her lips with heliotrope gum.

  “Sod off,” was his reply.

  “Fuck you,” she answered and her skates click-clacked away across the pavement slabs as she disappeared around the corner.

  “Women... phew!” ... Willie sighed, “They get on my ... “ and then he thought of Rachael Harris.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Charlie was not at the Site when Willie arrived there and the Foreman explained that some of the labourers were required to work at another Site nearby and Charlie had been sent there together with three other labourers, for the afternoon. Willie thanked the large, red-necked foreman before he set off to return home. He kicked a stone into a small round tin and shrugged complacently at his achievement, before he walked through the Site to the street ahead, admiring everything he saw as he passed. The building was truly taking shape and he was in awe of the art and craft of the workmen who could produce this edifice of quality and beauty that would last long after they were dead, unless Hitler had a hand in things and then they might not be able to finish what they had started. He came out into the street again at the other end of the Building Site and looked back. The area he surveyed would completely cover his own part of the Gorbals and he tried to imagine, but with little success, what things looked like six months BEFORE ... He kicked another stone and it was then that he saw her ... Sadie was walking arm in arm with the old man who had been at the party at their house. He could not remember his name, but he knew the face. Sadie was smiling happily up at the man as they walked together and he caressed her hand as it lay on his arm. Willie wanted to get away somewhere, where he would not be seen, but the open space cluttered with rubble gave little shelter as he stood behind a large rafter which barely hid him until they had passed him by. He could smell the strong, pungent perfume as the couple walked by and he could hear Sadie talking. They stopped almost where Willie was standing and he breathed lightly for fear of having been seen or heard. He could not hear distinctly what was being said, since Sadie had on her posh ‘Kelvinside accent’ for the occasion, as he should have expected. She seemed to be pleased about something that happened the night before and that she would be seeing him again that evening. Willie closed his eyes and wanted to puke as they kissed. He wanted to come out from where he was hiding and hit the man. How dare this old creature kiss his sister? He was old very old ... He must have been at least fifty and he thought of Sadie. What the hell was she thinking of?”