by Todd, Ian
“Ah suppose ye want tae join Holy Willie here at the funeral as well?” Tony hid snarled at Silent.
“Me? Ah don’t think so. The last priest Ah went near tried tae stick his finger up ma arse whilst whispering sweet nothings in ma ear…and me a Proddy tae.”
“So, whit did he say then?” Snappy hid asked him.
“That’s between me and ma priest,” Silent hid said, wae a straight face.
Johnboy hid tae admit that that arse ae his hid been stretched way beyond human endurance, so it hid. He’d thought he wis gonnae shite himsel there and then, right oan the spot, when he’d hid tae walk past Mrs Simpson and her three ugly mean sons, who wur staunin welcoming people, jist inside the main door tae the chapel. Johnboy’d seen hatred many times before, bit nothing like that. He’d never met Tam Simpson in the flesh and he didnae think that Tam Simpson wid ever hiv recognised him if he’d bumped intae him oan the street. Wan night he’d been oan his lonesome, walking alang Keppochhill Road, before Joe’d started gaun oot wae Kate, when a car hid drawn up beside him. Johnboy hid jist kept walking. In the passenger seat hid been Toby Simpson. He hidnae said anything, bit hid jist sat there glowering at Johnboy. Johnboy hid prayed that if that passenger door wis flung open, he’d be beside wan ae the closemooths, so he could make a quick exit. Efter aboot forty yards ae silently keeping pace wae him, the car hid moved oot tae the middle ae the road and hid disappeared. When Toby hid clocked Johnboy at St Teresa’s, surrounded by aboot fifteen ae Springburn’s finest fanny, aw dressed up tae the nines in black, he’d nudged Tam and whispered in his ear. Three pairs ae the darkest eyes that anywan could ever hiv clocking them, hid followed him as he passed the brothers, wae his heid doon and aw the lassies staring back defiantly at them.
“Fur Christ’s sake, Tony wis right, Ah am gonnae get murdered,” he’d squealed quietly at the lassies, as he slid intae wan ae the pews up near the door at the back.
“And that’s another thing...don’t bloody sit up at the back, near the door. Go doon intae the body ae the chapel. Ah widnae put it past them tae sling a blanket o’er yer napper and drag ye oot when everywan is saying the prayer fur the departed,” Tony hid warned him, efter he’d calmed doon.
Despite the threatening surroundings, Johnboy hid goat caught up in the grief and sadness ae the occasion, especially when they’d carried Kate’s coffin intae the chapel. The sound ae sobs echoing aw o’er the cavernous inside ae the building hid been quiet and dignified and despite the Mad Hatter brothers, he’d been glad he’d made the effort tae go. He’d thought aboot the last time he’d spoken tae Kate when he’d bumped intae her in the toon centre. She’d been oan her way up tae Dundas Street tae catch the bus up tae Stobhill tae visit Joe. He’d shared a seat oan the bus wae her as far as Keppochhill Road. She’d simpered aboot how sorry she wis tae hiv caused everything that hid happened tae Joe. Johnboy hid telt her that she widnae hiv managed tae change anything because Joe wis such a stubborn basturt and that whitever and wherever they’d hiv arranged tae meet, he wid’ve always insisted that he walked her up the road at night. She’d asked him aboot when they’d been wee snappers and Johnboy hid telt her the funniest stories he could think ae, minding tae leave oot the gross bits, like Joe wiping his arse oan the chapel vestments. When he’d stoapped speaking, she’d insisted that he carry-oan.
“Bit, Ah kin see Ah’m upsetting ye, Kate.”
“Bit, ye’re no, Johnboy, honest. Ah’m greeting because ye’re being funny aboot him and Ah know he’s goat they memories tae look forward tae when his brain damage eases. Ah kin work oan that when Ah sit beside his bed up in the hospital. The doctor said that it’s important tae talk tae him, especially aboot good memories fae when he wis a wee boy, even though he might no be registering whit’s being said and who’s saying it. Yer stories hiv gied me ammunition tae work wae.”
Efter he’d goat aff the bus, she’d turned in her seat and gied him a wee sad smile and a wave as the bus disappeared oanwards, up Springburn Road towards Stobhill, and Joe. That wis the last time he’d been anywhere close tae her, until the day when her coffin hid been slowly carried past him in the chapel. Johnboy hidnae pretended tae hiv a clue as tae whit wis gaun oan roond aboot him. Everywan seemed tae be repeating everything that the priest, Father John, wis chanting or saying, while some ae the alter boys wur waving pots ae smoky ash aboot the place. It hid been roond aboot that time that the whole atmosphere hid taken a dramatic turn. Johnboy hid sensed that something wis aboot tae happen, bit couldnae quite put his finger oan whit. He’d come across the word dignity mentioned o’er the years, bit hidnae really been sure whit the meaning ae it wis until that moment. The place hid gone deathly silent, apart fae the sound ae an odd sob here and there. Mrs Simpson, Kate’s ma, hid goat up oan tae her feet and hid walked, stooped, towards the priest, who wis staunin haudin a microphone up at the alter. Johnboy hidnae been sure whether Toby hid jumped up tae help his ma oan tae her feet or whether she’d deliberately pushed his hauns away fae touching her, as she made her way forward, up the few steps tae the alter and the waiting God man. When she reached him, he’d silently haunded the microphone o’er tae her before stepping back a few steps. A few sympathetic smiles hid appeared oan some ae the mourners’ faces roond aboot him and the lassies, as Mrs Simpson tapped the microphone, sending echoing thuds aboot the chapel, while everywan heard her asking Father John if the microphone wis switched oan. Somewan o’er tae Johnboy’s left hid cleared their throat and let oot a wee cough. The whole congregation hid jist sat there looking at her, as she looked oot at the sea ae faces before she began tae speak, hesitantly at first, then wae her voice growing stronger wae each word.
“The day is the day ye’ve aw come tae pay respects tae ma wee angel, ma only daughter, Katherine Mary-Anne Maguire Simpson, who at the tender age ae eighteen, wis hurting so bad, that she defied the will ae God by taking her ain life, only eight weeks efter celebrating becoming a wummin. Ah think that it’s fair tae say that everywan whose life she touched, wis blessed by a ray ae sunshine and a happiness that wis as warm as the rays ae the sun rising oan a fresh summer morning. As the only daughter ae masel and her dear departed father, Wilfred Simpson, we hid high hopes that wan day she wid’ve made a career fur hersel, met a boy, fell in love and hid a family ae her ain, in nae particular order. Clearly that isnae gonnae happen noo. As ye know, Kate wis spirited, care-free and never hid an ill-word tae say aboot anywan...including those who made it their business tae restrict her choices in life. Ye kin imagine ma delight when she started oan that road tae a career, even though she chose tae study dance. She’d also met a young man, who may no hiv been everywan’s cup ae tea, bit she wis sensible and Ah trusted her judgement. We spoke, we argued, Ah listened and eventually accepted the choices that she wis making fur hersel, good or bad, because she wis fortunate tae live in a time when wummin, like the young wummin sitting amongst us aw here the day, hiv…at last…the opportunity denied tae me and a lot ae other wummin ae oor generation, tae make their ain decisions and choices and tae be able tae influence their ain destiny oan the path that they choose intae the future. So, Ah hope ye’ll understaun me when Ah tell ye aw, that tae watch a beautiful flower wither, o’er such a short period ae time, his led me tae question not only ma ain values, bit the values within ma ain family and tae ask, in front ae God, whit right dis anywan hiv tae cast doubt oan those who may hiv a difference in opinion, or who seek the right tae make independent choices fur themsels? That, at the end ae the day, is a God given right. As everywan here the day knows, Ah’m a wummin ae very few words, who’s learned tae haud ma wheesht oan many an unhappy occasion, even when Ah’ve known that Ah should’ve spoken up. Bit noo, Ah’ll go tae ma grave wae a broken heart, that’s been smashed intae a thousand pieces, that will never, ever, be put back thegither, fur failing tae protect the maist precious gift that Ah gave life tae...ma darling daughter, Kate. She wis gied a simple bit powerful present...a record...by a young man. He wis the first boyfriend sh
e’d ever hid, she telt me. In the weeks leading up tae her death, she played this song aw the time, three or four times a night, in her bedroom before she went aff tae sleep. Ah must be honest and admit that maist ae the time, Ah wis always glad when Ah heard the click ae the switch oan the lamp beside her bed, because it meant that Ah’d only hiv tae listen tae the blasted song wan mair time, as it played itsel oot in the darkness ae her room. Since she wis taken away fae me, Ah’ve realised that the music chosen by that young man, who couldnae be here the day, sums up how Ah’ve felt aboot ma daughter, Kate, every single day since the day that God first gied her tae me and who, fur whitever reason, his decided tae take away. Ah will furever be thankful tae that young man fur choosing that song. It his helped me cope wae ma loss and gied me the strength tae staun up here oan this terribly sad day tae express how Ah feel aboot ma daughter, Kate. It wid mean a lot tae me when the song is playing if ye’d aw take the time tae reflect oan whit might hiv been and perhaps find it within yersels tae remember Kate as we aw knew her. Thank you.”
Johnboy could remember vividly the words spoken by Kate’s ma and her reference tae Joe. Ye could’ve heard a pin drap in the whole ae the chapel as Mrs Simpson slowly walked back tae her seat and the opening strings ae Roberta Flack’s ‘The First Time Ever Ah saw Yer Face’ stirred. As the voice in the song grew stronger, Johnboy hid at first thought that there wis interference coming through the tannoy speakers that wur stuck up oan the big pillars scattered aboot the chapel, until he realised that it wis the sobbing and crying ae aboot four hunner men, wummin, lassies and weans, aw greeting roond aboot him. When he’d glanced tae his left and right, aw the lassies fae Jonah’s wur ashen-faced, wae black eye-liner streaming doon their cheeks. Senga Jackson hid telt him later that Toby Simpson’s face hid hid a look ae disgust oan it, especially at the bit where his ma mentioned aboot Kate becoming a wummin. Thinking back, Johnboy couldnae remember when he’d last hid a wee greet tae himsel...probably when he wis aboot ten and his ma hid slung him oot ae the door tae school wearing his sister’s troosers...the wans wae the zip oan the side, efter he’d demolished and ripped the arse oot ae his ain wans…bit despite a desperate attempt no tae get caught up in the emotion, he’d bubbled and sobbed alang wae everywan else that day. He’d known he hid tae make a move, bit hid been reluctant, even incapable, ae staunin up in that sea ae grief. He’d hung oan until the final words hid faded away and then he’d made his move. Tony, Ben, Snappy, Simon and Pat hid been sitting wae loaded shooters, waiting fur him in two cars, o’er the wall at the back ae the chapel, in Westerhill Street, ready tae jump in at the first sign ae any attack oan him, which they wur convinced wis inevitable, at the end ae the service. Although it hid hid its scary moments, Johnboy hid been glad that he’d made the effort. Fur some strange reason, lying in the digger, it hid gied him some sort ae closure tae the part ae his past life that hid involved Joe, and hid gied Johnboy the go-aheid tae move forward tae a life that widnae involve him.
Chapter Fifty Five
Tony sat in the passenger seat beside Pat, ootside Graham Portoy’s office oan Bothwell Street in the toon centre. The baith ae them hid escorted Harper in through the front doors. They wur familiar wae the building, so knew there wis only wan way oot and that wis by the main door that went in aff the street. The only problem they wur likely tae hiv wis if they wur asked tae move oan by the bizzies, who they could see wandering aboot further up the street.
“Whit’s the point ae double yella lines if ye’re no gonnae park oan them, eh?” Pat hid asked, smiling, as they drew up tae the kerb across the street.
Harper wis oan strict twenty-four-hour watch noo. Each ae The Mankys took turns in sitting in Pat’s flat, keeping an eye oan him, except fur Snappy, who scared Harper shitless every time he wis in his presence. If anything happened tae Harper, or if he wis allowed tae dae a runner, then they’d be fucked. Pat hid fed-back tae Tony that Harper hid started tae become really nervous-looking and fidgety every time he heard the ootside door opening or if somewan wis heard gaun up and doon the stairs in the closemooth…a sure sign that he wisnae coping and needed watching. Efter Tony hid come back fae Freckles’s funeral, himsel and Pat hid sat doon and spoken tae Harper. Tony hid explained that Harper hid tae write doon, in his clearest haunwriting, everything that he knew aboot the social worker that Tam Simpson wis perching oan.
“Why?”
“Because we need tae know aw we kin aboot her, Harper. How the hell ur we supposed tae expose her, if we don’t know who she is or where she comes fae when she’s no taking snappers aff ae poor distressed single maws like yer sister, eh? Noo, listen up, we hivnae goat much time. Ah’ll need it by the morra efternoon, at the latest. That should gie ye plenty ae time tae get they memory juices ae yers gaun. Don’t leave anything oot, no matter how irrelevant ye think it is. We’ll sort aw that oot.”
“Bit, Ah’ve awready telt ye the story aboot her dealings wae that sister ae mine, so Ah hiv,” he’d protested.
“Aye, well, that isnae gonnae get her sacked, is it?”
“There is wan other thing,” Harper hid said hesitantly, furtively looking at Tony and Pat. “Although it might jist be a rumour.”
“Look, fur Christ’s sake, Harper. Jist write it aw doon, will ye? Let us worry whether a rumour is fiction or fact,” Pat hid growled, clearly getting fed-up babysitting.
“Right, Harper, Ah promised ye that Ah’d come up wae a nice wee solution tae make sure that fae noo oan, ye’ll be safe fae any ae that Simpson crowd,” Tony hid said encouragingly, changing the subject, as Pat took a pen and a pad oot ae a drawer and threw them across tae the nervous wreck.
“Am Ah being allowed tae heid aff south?” he’d asked hopefully.
“Harper, think aboot it. Look whit happened tae that brother-in-law ae yours. He went away and came back. Naw, we need tae get aw this sorted oot, wance and fur aw, here, in the toon itsel.”
“Bit, no matter whit ye dae tae they Simpsons, that Frisky Frank and Jo Jo Robson will still get their hauns oan me, so they will,” he’d whined, building himsel up intae a fine auld state.
“Harper, they won’t. Ah’ve come up wae a plan, bit ye’ll need tae dae exactly as Ah say...right doon tae the letter. Ah’m telling ye, ye won’t see that pair ae basturts ever again, so ye won’t.”
“Whit…whit dae Ah hiv tae dae then?”
“Right, the morra, ye’ve goat an appointment wae a brief. He’s really good. The bizzies ur shite-scared ae him, so they ur. Ye’ll hiv tae tell him exactly whit Ah tell ye tae tell him. Don’t mess aboot noo. He’ll ask ye a load ae questions, bit dae exactly as Ah tell ye and ye’ll be free tae go hame tae yer ain bed oan Friday night. Hiv ye goat that?”
“Bit...er, will that no cost?”
“Furget the cost. Ah’m collecting two hunner quid the day as a reward fur the safe return ae the ring. It’s aw yours, so it is. Ye’ll still be left wae aboot a hunner wance the brief’s work is done. Awright?”
“Aye…Ah, er, suppose so, Tony.”
“Right then, here’s the plan,” Tony hid said, taking aff his jaicket and sitting doon opposite Harper.
“Dae ye want me tae take a wee donder in tae see if everything’s awright?” Pat asked Tony, breaking intae his thoughts.
“Naw, Harper knows he’s fucked withoot us. He’ll dae as he’s telt, so he will.”
Tony smiled when he thought aboot the reaction he’d goat the day before fae the other Mankys when the Poacher’s Retreat hid gone aff. He wis glad he’d gone and spoken tae Erchie The Basturt and Mad Philip oan Tuesday efternoon. Surprisingly, they’d awready hid a mair modern type ae Poacher’s Retreat in their basement.
“Although it sounds the same and dis the same damage, yours is the piece de résistance in the poaching world. Whit we’ve goat is whit is called a Spring-gun and it’s only aboot ten years auld. Ye still attach a fishing line tae it and set it up where ye think a poacher is gonnae be walking, bit it’s only meant tae fire blanks. It’s aw
pretty mechanised and a piece ae pish tae use. Your wan, oan the other haun, is easily o’er a hunner and fifty years auld and wis haunmade by some auld gamekeeper, who knew his stuff, in the days when it wis legal tae shoot poachers. It’s very collectable, so it is, and Ah’d love tae hiv it in ma collection. Right, how much dae ye know aboot how tae operate it?” Erchie hid said tae him.
“Ah goat a demonstration wance,” Tony hid replied, catching a wee appreciative smile between the brothers at an unknown name nae being disclosed.
“Right, haun it o’er and we’ll show ye how it’s done.”
“Ah’m jist amazed that nowan his ever caught oan tae these things here in the toon. They’re really lethal…aye, really lethal and allow ye tae be well oot ae the way before they dae the damage,” Mad Philip hid said.
“The problem is, ye need tae know pretty accurately when yer target is gonnae be aroond tae receive the benefit ae it. A cat or a dug wid set it aff, never mind the patter ae tiny feet,” Erchie hid reminded Philip grimly, walking across and switching the shooting gallery lights oan.
“Right, apart fae us showing ye how tae use the thing, whit else dae ye need, Tony?”
“Ah need tae be sure that Ah hit the right target, so Ah dae.”
“Right, these ur no the best ae conditions, bit we’ll try and set up the lobby. Hiv ye goat yer measurements handy?”
“Aye.”
“Right, Ah’ll take them here,” Mad Philip hid said, taking the sheet aff ae Tony’s haun.
They’d set up Tam Simpson’s lobby by stacking beer sacks intae an oblong shape and using flattened cardboard boxes tae reproduce the walls, before blasting them tae fuck-aw efternoon, making adjustments here and there tae the height ae the Poacher’s Retreat and the distance fae whit wid be Tam Simpson’s front door. They’d also used different shotgun cartridges, checking the trajectory and spread ae the shot. Not wance hid Erchie or Philip asked who the target wis.