by Ian Todd
“So? Whit’s that tae dae wae the weans here?” Skull eventually asked, no being able tae contain his curiosity.
“It widnae be oor Buttercup, wid it?” Johnboy whispered, looking aboot, feeling a wee bit wobbly.
“Well, when the coo wis delivered tae the transport lodging hoose yesterday, fur safe keeping, it went missing because some diddy left the latch ae the gate open,” Tony informed them.
“So, how dae the wee wans know that it wis their coo that goat kidnapped?”
“Well, when it wis discovered that it wis offskie, they daft pricks, Crisscross and Jobby, came roond tae the school and asked aw the weans tae remember tae look in their back courts when they went hame and get in touch wae them if they came across it…deid or alive.”
“Ah’m still no convinced that their Buttercup wis oor coo, bit thank Christ we goat oor money, cash in haun, when we did, eh?” Skull laughed, looking o’er towards the howling huts.
“It wid be better if we keep this between us fur the time being. We widnae want tae upset some ae they big maws, noo, wid we?” Tony advised.
Friday
Johnboy hid been asking her and then pleading wae her and noo it wis too late. His jeans hid finally disintegrated and fallen apart when Helen wis attempting tae scrub the dirt oot ae them while gieing them a wash in the sink fur his class party. Johnboy wis running aboot the hoose in his bare arse, wae a dish cloth wrapped roond himsel tae hide his shame, screaming the place doon.
“Ye’ll bloody well wear them and that’s that,” Helen screamed at him.
“Ah wullnae! Everywan will laugh at me,” he howled.
“Naw they wullnae, ya daft eejit!”
“They will!”
“Ye’re wearing them ‘cause there’s nothing else, Johnboy,” she said tae him, soothingly, trying tae placate him, bit waiting fur the inevitable.
“Aarrgghhhh!” he wailed, lying oan his back, kicking hell oot ae the flair wae the heels ae his feet, jist as Betty fae next door arrived and sat doon tae join in the wee pantomine.
“Ma, Ma, please…please don’t put me oot in them,” he pleaded.
“Wid ye jist listen tae this, Betty? See whit Ah’ve goat tae put up wae oan a morning? And Ah widnae be wanting tae kick they flair boards wae yer legs so high because Betty’s getting a fine auld deck ae they Kerrs Pinks ae yours,” Helen said, taking a fag fae Betty and lighting it up.
“Ah hate ye!” Johnboy screamed, clamping his legs shut.
“Johnboy, don’t let me lose ma temper noo. Get them oan and none ae yer nonsense,” she said, flinging them across tae him.
“Please...” he pleaded.
“Look, Ah’m no telling ye again, get intae that lobby and put them oan and me and Betty will tell ye if ye kin tell or no,” she said, drumming her fingers oan the erm ae the chair, wae her fag bobbing up and doon, creating wee blue smoke rings.
Johnboy stood up, cupping his crotch wae the tea towel and heided tae the door wae them under his erm, sobbing and girning tae himsel.
“Right, in ye come when ye’re ready,” she shouted, winking across at Betty.
He walked in as the baith ae them sat still in their chairs like a couple ae statues, feart tae breathe, in case they sent him aff oan wan again.
“See, Ah telt ye,” he said, sniffling.
“Ye telt me whit?”
“That everywan in the school will know that Ah’m wearing lassies’ jeans.”
“Naw they won’t, will they, Betty?”
“Ah couldnae tell if Ah didnae awready know,” the lying witch said, taking a puff ae her fag.
“They will. Every time Ah hiv tae go fur a pee Ah’ll hiv tae dae wan sitting doon.”
“Why kin ye no be gaun fur a shite insteid ae a pee, eh?” Helen demanded, parting her hauns oot in front ae hersel, as Betty took another drag ae her fag, nodding in agreement.
“Because everywan will see Ah don’t hiv a zip up the front, so it’ll be obvious that Ah’ll hiv tae pull ma troosers doon tae dae a pee.”
He started tae snivel again.
“Zorro didnae hiv a zip oan the front ae his troosers, at least no that Ah kin recall,” Betty said, encouragingly.
“And Ah never clocked Ivanhoe wae a zip either,” Helen chipped in.
“That’s because he wis always wearing a suit ae armour,” Johnboy reminded her.
“Well, Robin Hood then,” she shot back.
“Tights.”
“There ye go then. Ye’ve said it yersel. If Robin Hood kin wear tights, whit’s wrang wae you wearing a pair ae yer sister’s jeans withoot a zip oan the front?”
“That’s no the point. Zorro disnae hiv a lassies’ zip sticking oot ae the side ae his troosers fur everywan tae clock,” he retorted, starting tae snivel again.
“Aye, Janet only wore them twice and never wore them efter that,” Betty said, fae within her cloud ae blue fag smoke.
“Aye, Ah know. Ah noticed that they’ve goat a Frasers’ label oan them. Ur ye sure she disnae want them back, Betty?”
“Naw, that arse ae hers widnae keek in them noo.”
“Ah’ll need a black hat and a black mask,” Johnboy sniffled, peering doon at the zip oan his hip.
“And anyway, she didnae pay fur them, if ye know whit Ah mean?” Betty said, winking.
“And a red bandana and a sword,” he added.
“Ah wish Ah could get that arse ae mine tae fit intae them. If Ah could, he’d be aff tae school in his bare arse or wae wan ae the lassies’ dresses oan,” Helen said, smiling, nodding towards Johnboy.
“Away ye go, Helen, ye’ve an amazing body. It’s aw that PLJ pish ye keep drinking straight, alang wae aw that pumping that you and that sex-oan-legs ye live wae get up tae that keeps ye trim.”
“And Ah’ll need a pair ae black pointed boots as well,” Johnboy went oan.
“Johnboy, ur you still here? Is it no aboot time ye wur aff tae school?” Helen asked him.
“Aye, bit Ah wis jist saying....”
“Jist cut the cackle and get oan yer way. Ah’m sure Ah kin hear the school bell fae here.”
“Bit Ah need...”
“Johnboy, ye’ll need a wrenched lug in two seconds flat if ye don’t get oan yer way, as in the noo!” Helen threatened him.
“Ah’ll tell ye whit, Johnboy. Come wae me and Ah’ll sort ye oot. It’ll probably no be perfect, bit at least ye’ll look like something oot ae a film,” Betty said, smiling.
“And make sure ye heid straight doon they stairs when ye come oot ae Betty’s,” Helen warned him, as Johnboy trooped efter Betty.
“Oh girls, you all look so beautiful,” cooed Olive tae Senga, Sandra and Pearl, who aw hid their faces painted black wae soot and wur wearing matching flowery curtain material, made intae long dresses.
Johnboy thought they looked like something oot ae the film ‘Zulu’.
“Thank ye, Miss Hackett. We’re The Supremes,” they chirped thegither, chuffed as punch and wae big grins oan their faces, knowing that the other lasses wur envious ae aw that good matching curtain material.
“Oh, look at you, Tommy. Don’t tell me…let me guess. Hoss Cartwright from Bonanza?” she beamed.
“Naw, naw. Hopalong Cassidy, Miss. Kin ye no tell?” Hoss insisted, staunin there wearing a ten gallon hat, broon leather waistcoat oan tap ae a white shirt, baggy troosers, two fat rosy cheeks and a double holster wae wan six gun, oan a belt that hid a shoe lace tied oan tae each end, tae allow fur an extension, so it wid go roond his waist.
“Johnboy!” she exclaimed, looking fur words as he trooped in, third in the queue fae the corridor.
“Ah’m wan ae the Purple Gang,” said Danny la Rue, wae his purple velvet floppy hat flopping o’er his eyes, lassies’ jeans wae a zip up the side and a purple feather boa tied roond his waist.
Johnboy reckoned he goat away wae it due tae the fact that he’d lifted wan ae Hoss Cartwright’s silver six guns oot ae his holster in the queue as Olive jist stared and said, ‘Oh, er,
right...” as he gied her his ‘evil leader ae the Purple Gang’ sneer oan the way past.
Charlie Chaplin, wae his size ten fitba boots wis next.
“Jimmy Johnston,” Skull announced, clickity-clacking past her wae an auld broon leather fitba wae the orange bladder bulging oot ae the seams in ten different places under his erm, wearing his auld man’s Jags jersey wae nae elbows in it.
“I’d stay out of Mr Smith’s line of vision today if I were you,” Olive advised kindly.
Parvais, who wis fifteen and nearly hid a beard, turned up as a Raj prince in a turban. This wis Parvais’s last year wae them, before gaun up tae the secondary school. Fur some reason, he’d been put in their class tae learn English before he wis moved up tae be wae his ain age group.
When everywan wis in, they goat tae listen tae music oan a wee record player that Olive hid taken in. She played Johnboy’s favourite, ‘Satisfaction’ by The Stones, some Bob Dylan wans and ‘Baby Love’ by The Supremes. Everywan put their sweeties oan Olive’s table and they wur allowed tae help themsels. It wis maistly Penny Dainties and funny sticky sweeties that Parvais hid brought in which went slowly tae start aff wae, bit wur scoffed wance the Dainties wur finished. Olive also brought in real bottles ae Coca Cola and Mackintosh’s Caramac chocolate bars fur them aw.
They didnae hiv a morning playtime bit goat a broon paper bag brought intae the class wae a breid piece wae cheese in it, an apple and a tangerine, before they wur sent hame tae start their summer holidays.
Ootside oan St James Road, Tony burst oot laughing when he clocked Johnboy.
“Fur Christ’s sake, Johnboy…whit the fuck ur ye supposed tae be?”
“Wan ae the Purple Gang.”
“Hiv ye seen the film?”
“Aye.”
“And ye think ye look like wan ae the Purple Gang then?”
“Wur they purple?” Skull asked, lighting up a tipped single.
“Ah hidnae any choice. Ma troosers fell apart last night when ma ma wis washing them and she widnae buy me a new pair…no even a pair ae Telsada cheapos at wan and eleven oot ae the draper’s shoap oan Stirling Road.”
“Is that the wans wae a bucking bronco wae a cowboy oan it stitched oan the back pocket?” Skull asked.
“Aye,” Johnboy said, impressed wae his knowledge.
“The wans they sell doon the Barras?”
“Aye, Ah think ye kin get them doon there as well.”
“Aye, they’re the shite wans.”
“Right, get rid ae aw that purple crap ye’ve goat wrapped roond ye, fur a start,” Tony said.
“Bit everywan will see ma lassies’ jeans wae the zip up the side.”
“No fur long.”
“Whit dae ye mean?”
“Whit he means is, we’re aff tae dae a wee bit ae snow-dropping.”
“Snow-dropping?”
“Aye, snow-dropping. Hiv ye never heard ae snow-dropping before?”
“Naw.”
“Well, whit ye dae is, ye go roond aw the backs and check oot aw the washing lines and when ye see something ye fancy, ye grab it and run,” Skull informed him.
“Simple as that,” said Tony, nodding.
“Whit, ye grab the rope?”
“Naw, ye dunderheid, ye grab whit’s hinging oan the rope.”
“So, ye want some jeans? Let’s go and get ye a pair ae jeans then,” said Skull.
“How will Ah know if they fit me or no?”
“Ye won’t. Ye jist hiv tae try and go fur wans that look yer size.”
“There’s a couple ae things ye hiv tae watch oot fur though,” Tony warned, as they heided up Parson Street.
“Number wan…don’t get caught. If ye dae, ye’ll end up in The Royal,” Skull said.
“Number two…don’t dae it where people know ye, or where ye’re likely tae bump intae some big mad basturt and there ye ur, staunin there in his good five-o-wans,” Tony added.
“Aye, a guy wance telt me no tae shite in ma ain backyard,” Skull said, grabbing his crotch as he leered across at the big lassies in their wine-coloured uniforms oan the opposite side ae the street who wur prefects fae The City Public. “Dae ye want a bit ae this girls?” he shouted.
“Come back when ye’ve hid a wash and added five years oan tae that winkle that ye’re trying hard tae find,” wan ae them shouted back as her pals burst oot laughing.
“So, who wis it that telt ye that, Skull?” Tony asked him.
“Ah cannae remember.”
“Well, whit dis it mean then?”
“Who knows…Ah think it wis something tae dae wae no nicking stuff fae where people know ye.”
“So, where dis the back yard come intae it then?” Tony persisted.
“Tony, how the fuck dae Ah know? It wis only some shite Ah heard. Ah could’ve dreamt it.”
“Maybe it wis something aboot wance ye blag some stuff, ye throw it oot ae the windae intae the back yard tae collect it later,” Johnboy suggested.
“Or maybe it wis Skull talking shite.”
“Or maybe ye wurnae there, so how the fuck wid ye know, ya Atalian fud, ye?”
“So, tell me where ye heard it fae then?”
“Ah think it wis in The Grove.”
“Whit’s The Grove?” Johnboy asked.
“The Grove is where Paul and Joe ur,” Skull said, clearly wondering where Johnboy hid been aw his life, no hivving heard ae The Grove.
“It’s real name is Larchgrove. We’ve aw done time in there.”
“Ye mean it’s a jail?”
“It’s a jail fur baddies like us, up tae the age ae sixteen.”
“And that’s where Joe and Paul ur?”
“As far as we know,” Tony said, taking a run at an empty beer tin that wis lying at the side ae the pavement and kicking it intae the path ae a red GPO van.
“Hoi, ya wee manky wanker, ye, Ah know yer face,” the driver shouted oot ae his windae oan the way past as Skull stuck the two fingers ae baith hauns up at him.
“Aye, they make ye wear these short corduroy troosers,” Skull said, shaking his heid, grimacing.
“And that’s where ye speak aboot nicking yer mates gear and dumping it in the yard, is it?” Johnboy asked, winking across at Tony, smiling.
“If ye’re no getting yer arse belted wae a big leather belt efter being held doon oan a table by four big basturts, that is,” Skull said, no biting.
“Whit? They skelp yer arse wae a big belt?”
“If ye try tae escape, ye get six across the arse and slung in a cell wae a wee slot windae oan the door that’s doon wan ae the corridors, fur three or four days. When it happened tae me, Ah hid stripes oan that arse ae mine fur aboot two weeks,” Tony said, wincing at the memory.
“Aye, he flung stuff oot intae the yard,” Skull said, laughing at Johnboy’s confused expression.
“The main building is two storeys high. At night, sometimes they put oan wee groups where ye kin sit and dae painting and play games. Wan night, Ah thought tae masel, ‘tae hell wae this, Ah’m offskie,’ and Ah jumped up oan tae wan ae the tables, lifted up ma chair at the same time and put it right through the windae.”
“The chair landed in the closed-in yard,” Skull added.
“When Ah went through the windae, Ah hid tae drap doon aboot fifteen feet intae the yard. Wance Ah wis in the yard, which hid a big wall and barbed wire fence roond it, Ah hid tae run like a whippet tae the building opposite fae the wan Ah hid jist flew oot ae...”
“…bit he twisted his ankle when he landed efter drapping doon fae that height…”
“…so this slowed me doon when Ah wis running tae the other building that hid a lower roof, cause it wis only wan storey high. The idea wis tae take a running jump and get a grip ae the gutter and pull masel up and o’er the roof.”
“Aye, bit there’s two doors intae the yard and as soon as they hear a windae’s been tanned, aw the bells go aff and the teachers heid intae the yard,” Skull said, getting aw excited.
“Jesus!” Johnboy exclaimed.
“Don’t let us put ye aff though. Ye’ll end up there, sooner or later,” Skull telt him knowingly, wae a smile.
“Ah hope no.”
“Anyway, whit wur we oan aboot jist before Skull started oan his porky pies about shiting in his mate’s yard?” Tony said, grinning.
“Ah wisnae lying, ya foreign plonker, ye. Who ever heard ae a name called Gucci? Whit kind ae name is that, eh?”
“It’s Atalian…fae where the Pope lives.”
“Aye, and he’s a tosser tae,” Skull said, grinning.
Johnboy wis pishing himsel listening tae them as they reached Castle Street. Withoot breaking their strides, they heided intae the traffic, dodging the cars, lorries and trolley buses tae get tae the Alexandra Parade side.
“Oh, aye, and number three…very important…plan yer getaway well in advance, watching oot fur low slung washing lines waiting tae get ye in the throat when ye’re running aff wae the clobber,” Tony shouted, o’er the sound ae the horns tooting at them tae get the fuck oot ae the way.
Tony and Johnboy reached the other pavement and turned tae see where Skull hid goat tae. The baith ae them jist aboot hid a heart attack. Skull hid stoapped in the middle ae the traffic, and hid started tae walk alang the white lines in the direction ae The Royal. Jist then, two big trolley buses hooted their horns and passed each other wae him in the middle. When they disappeared, there wis nae sign ae Skull. Tony wis jist aboot tae plunge back intae the traffic again tae see where he wis, when a big grinning Skull’s heid appeared o’er the tap ae an Austin thirteen hunner. He held up a lighted fag end, waved it at them and then started bobbing in and oot ae the traffic like a ballet dancer, before sliding sideways oan his studs the last few feet tae where they wur staunin.
“Skull, ya mad tit, ye. Ah thought ye’d been run o’er.”
“Somebody threw oot hauf a lighted fag fae a car and Ah didnae want it tae go tae waste,” he said, grinning, blowing oot smoke rings, watching them being sucked away by the slipstream ae the fast moving traffic.