Parly Road: The Glasgow Chronicles 1

by Ian Todd

  “That’s ma granny and granda’s hoose up there, jist tae the left ae The Grafton picture hoose,” Johnboy said.

  “Which wan?”

  “The second windae up...the wan wae the lace curtains and the lights oan.”

  It wis then that they heard the sound they wur waiting fur.

  “Furget it, if it disnae hiv a load oan the back, Johnboy. Whit we’re wanting is a load, covered in canvas that’s tied doon wae ropes.”

  The lorry crunched o’er the hill and edged tae a stoap at the lights, wae the usual screech and hiss ae the brakes as the driver drapped gears.

  “Right, here we go. We’ll make oot we’re jist crossing tae the other side ae the street by gaun roond the back,” Tony said, sounding like a teacher.

  When they stepped aff the pavement, Tony jumped up oan tae the back wae wan leap. There wis a square bit at the back that Johnboy used as a step. By the time Johnboy climbed up, Tony hid lain back as if he wis sitting oan a couch. The load stretched up tae aboot ten feet above their heids and wis tied doon by ropes. The canvas stoapped aboot four feet fae the back ae the lorry so it wis like sitting oan a wee shelf, protected fae the wind. When they took aff alang St James’s Road, heiding fur Stirling Road, a wee Morris Minor turned in behind them, oot ae Ronald Street. The man, who wis driving, jist smiled and the wummin passenger gied them a wee wave. When Johnboy and Tony waved back, she said something tae the man and they baith laughed. Efter passing Collins, the book publishers’ oan the right, the car turned left and disappeared up Taylor Street.

  “Mind and keep yer eyes peeled fur shoaps,” Tony shouted above the roar.

  As they neared Castle Street, Johnboy felt the gears drapping doon as Tony and him bounced back and forward wae the load at their backs.

  “He’s coming up tae the traffic lights and is probably heiding up Alexandra Parade,” Tony yelled.

  Jist as they wur crawling slowly towards the traffic lights, they crept past a Taylor’s lorry oan their right haun side before coming tae a stoap. There, sitting as if they wur oan a couch as well, wis their manky pals.

  “Hellorerr, ya pair ae arse-bandits, ye,” Skull shouted across wae a big grin oan his coupon.

  “Fuck, that didnae take ye long. Dae ye know where ye’re gaun?”

  “Aye, tae blag some trannys, ye daft tit,” Skull shouted, still wearing his usual grin, alang wae his Celtic hat, filthy red and yellow hooped Jags jersey and his two-sizes-too-big fitba boots.

  “Skull, shut the fuck up, ya fud-pad, ye.”

  “Ah think it’s Alexandra Parade,” Joe shouted o’er the noise ae the engines revving up.

  Baith lorries took aff at the same time. Joe and Skull heided left intae Castle Street towards the turn aff fur Alexandra Parade and Johnboy and Tony’s lorry turned right, past The Royal, heiding doon intae the High Street. The last Johnboy and Tony saw ae Joe and Skull that night wis Skull staunin up wae his back tae them, bent o’er wae his troosers at his ankles, wiggling his bare arse at them, as they disappeared oot ae sight. It wis anywan’s guess as tae whit the people in the three cars crawling behind them thought.

  “Right, ye take the left haun side and Ah’ll take the right side, Johnboy. If ye see anything, gie’s a shout and we’ll nip aff at the next set ae traffic lights.”

  “Aye, okay,” Johnboy shouted as the shoaps started tae appear.

  The lorry wis heiding fur Glesga Cross.

  “Is that wan?” Johnboy shouted, pointing.

  “Naw, that’s a Hoover shoap,” Tony shouted back, as the lorry slowed tae a halt at the traffic lights at Duke Street.

  “This is brilliant, so it is.”

  “Aye, don’t worry…it gets better,” Tony shouted as the engine revved up and they took aff again.

  The next stoap wis the traffic lights at the bottom ae the High Street, jist before Glesga Cross.

  “He’ll either turn left intae the Gallowgate and then right oan tae London Road, which means he’s heiding fur England, or he’ll go straight oan through the Saltmarket and o’er The Clyde, heiding fur God’s knows where.”

  They heided straight oan through the lights, heiding fur the bridge tae take them o’er The Clyde.

  “We need tae watch oot here, Johnboy. Lie flat, so we’re no seen. The Central polis office is jist doon here oan oor right,” Tony shouted.

  Jist then, they went past a shoap oan Johnboy’s left that wis lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “Is that wan?” Johnboy pointed.

  “Fucking pure dead brilliant! We’ll get aff at the traffic lights if he stoaps at the Albert Bridge.

  The lorry went straight through oan the green and stoapped at the traffic lights oan Crown Street.

  “Right, here we go, Johnboy!”

  As they walked back across the bridge, they stoapped in the middle ae it and Tony pointed oot aw the sights. Tae their left, further alang the water stood the Victoria Bridge wae the Broomielaw and the cranes ae the shipbuilders beyond.

  “If ye wur tae hop and skip fae bridge tae bridge ye’d come tae the bridge that the trains use tae go intae Central Station. Oan the left, behind us, where we’ve jist come aff the lorry, is the Gorbals...a right shite-hole ae a place. Ah know a lot ae boys fae there. The Grove is full ae them. They’d steal the eyes oot ae yer heid, that lot.”

  “Whit’s that place o’er there?” Johnboy asked, pointing across tae the right, in the direction they wur walking.

  “That’s Glesga Green. If ye want yer baws booted rapidly and yer good five-o-wans ripped aff yer arse, that’s where tae go during the day. It’s always hoaching wae thieving pricks like us fae the Gorbals, or even worse, aw they Proddy basturts fae Bridgeton Cross. If ye fancy getting a dirty auld pervert’s finger stuffed up yer bum while his other haun’s o’er yer mooth tae keep the noise doon fae disturbing his pals in the next bush, then it’s the best place tae go tae in Glesga oan a dark night like noo,” Tony laughed.

  “Seriously?”

  “Well, if ye don’t believe me, oan ye go then,” he laughed again, trying tae push Johnboy aff the pavement in the direction ae the park.

  “Look, there’s somewan walking through noo,” Johnboy said, nodding, efter they’d nipped across the road tae peer through the railings.

  “Aye, typical pervo,” Tony said as if he knew whit he wis talking aboot. “Ah heard that this pervo wance tried tae ride two young boys oor age, years ago and when they fought him aff, he fell and bumped his heid and croaked it. Dae ye know whit happened tae them? They hanged the auldest wan.”

  “Fur Christ sakes! Whit happened tae the other wan?”

  “Ah don’t know. Ah think they sent him doon tae Englandshire somewhere.”

  They skipped across the road and came tae a big building wae massive big pillars alang the front ae it.

  “This is the High Court. If ye murder anywan, this is where ye come tae get sentenced tae hang.”

  “Whit, they hing ye in there?” Johnboy asked, looking up at the big broon doors.

  “Ah’m no sure aboot that. Aw Ah know is, this is where ye end up, either tae get hung or tae be telt ye’re gonnae get strung up.”

  “Dae ye know anywan that’s been hung?”

  “Naw.”

  “If it wis me, Ah’d jump tae the side when they opened the trap door and run like the clappers or Ah’d dae whit Hopalong Cassidy did and get a wee hook put oan ma belt at the back ae ma troosers and wrap the rope roond the hook before it went roond ma neck and then Ah’d kid oan Ah wis croaked.”

  “Aye, that wid teach the basturts, eh?” Tony laughed.

  “The shoap must jist be up here oan the left,” Johnboy said, stepping aff the pavement oan tae the road tae look farther up the street.

  “Johnboy, look at this building. Dae ye know whit this place is?”

  Oan the right ae the High Court wis a wee red brick building wae its windaes aw covered up oan the inside wae white paint.

  “Naw, whit is it?”

  “Hiv a
guess.”

  “A bizzy office?”

  “Naw, it’s the mortuary.”

  “Whit’s a mortuary?”

  “It’s where ye go when they find ye croaked in the street or murdered.”

  “It disnae look that big.”

  “It’s big enough tae take aw the stiffs. Ma uncle Luigi worked here as a porter and he said that they come in at aw times ae the day and night.”

  “So, whit dae they dae wae the bodies then?”

  “Store them till they get collected.”

  “This place gies me the creeps.”

  “Aye, let’s shoot the craw up tae the shoap,” Tony agreed, as they baith quickened their pace.

  It wis jist as Johnboy’d first thought when he’d clocked it fae the back ae the wagon…lit up like a Christmas tree, it wis. In the windae, there wis aw sorts ae cameras and whit they wur efter...trannys. The only problem wis that there wis a big metal grill covering the whole windae, apart fae a gap ae aboot eight inches at the tap where the grill stoapped short ae the frame.

  “Kin ye remember the name ae the trannys that The Big Man said he wanted?”

  “Something aboot a world spacer.”

  “Naw, it’s a Globepacer. See if ye kin see wan.”

  They looked at aw the trannys bit couldnae make oot a Globepacer. There wis Mello Tone Tempests, Realtone Constellations, Highwave Star Lites, Hi-Fi Deluxes...and then Johnboy clocked it.

  “Ya beauty, ye. There’s a Grand Prix GP nine-o-wan,” he said, pointing hauf way up the grill oan the right.

  “So?”

  “That’s wan ae the special trannys that The Big Man’s efter.”

  “There’s a wee strip stuck oan the front that says Grand Prix Transistor nine oan it. Ur ye sure that’s it?” Tony asked, peering through the grill.

  “Ah’m nearly sure...and anyway, we kin jist haun it o’er and make oot that it is and see whit reaction we get.”

  “Aye, awright. That sounds fine tae me.”

  “Is this shoap nae use then?” asked Johnboy.

  “Whit dae ye mean?”

  “Ah mean, dae we need tae look fur another wan withoot a grill oan it?”

  “Dae we heck. This is perfect,” Tony said, staunin back, ignoring the traffic gaun up and doon the Saltmarket, as he scanned the front ae the shoap.

  “So, how dae we get tae the trannys wae that big grill in oor way?”

  “Ah’ll go o’er the tap ae the grill. The grill will help me get a grip when Ah climb up.”

  “So, how ur ye gonnae reach the trannys?”

  “When we tan the windae, we need tae make sure the whole pane caves in and then, Ah’ll jump in and throw them oot tae ye.”

  “Whit if ye get stuck?”

  “Whit if Ah don’t?” Tony laughed.

  “Aye, okay, if ye say so.”

  “The only thing Ah need tae know is that ye’re gonnae still be staunin here when Ah get in there.”

  “Tony, don’t worry yer arse aboot me. Ah’ll still be here.”

  “And another thing, see that wee box up there,” he said pointing above the Bremner’s Electricals sign.

  “Aye.”

  “That’s the alarm, so it is. When we cave that windae in, the alarm bells ur gonnae clang like a Sunday morning in paradise.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “And another thing, the Central polis station is jist across there, roond that corner.”

  “Ur ye sure this is gonnae be okay? Ah mean, dae ye think we’ll get away wae it?”

  “Piece ae pish. Noo, aw we need is a nice wee stank cover. Let’s go and see if we kin find wan.”

  Five minutes later, they wur back at the shoap front. Johnboy couldnae believe Tony’s cheek. They found a stank right ootside the main door ae the polis office.

  “Let’s hope wan ae they ugly basturts comes oot and breaks his ankle, eh?” he’d said tae Johnboy, grinning. “Right, listen up, Johnboy. When we get the swag and run, heid up tae the Cross there, turn left oan tae Argyle Street, go across the road and nip intae the first street ye see. That’ll take us up tae the Fruitmarket. When we get tae the Fruitmarket, we’ll heid straight up Albion Street past The Evening Citizen offices and then up intae the Rottenrow. That’s the direction we need tae go in. Hiv ye goat that?”

  “Aye, Tony,” Johnboy said, feeling his stomach churning and his hauns getting aw sweaty.

  “Well, there’s nae use hinging aboot when we don’t need tae,” Tony said, and wae that, he stood back, lifted his erm and threw the stank, edge first, clean through the space at the tap ae the shoap windae, jist as a big low loader wae an even bigger digger oan the back ae it thundered past them.

  Johnboy never heard the glass smash, even though a big empty triangular space that wis hauf the size ae the windae appeared behind the grill. The alarm went aff oan cue, sounding as if there wis a hoose oan fire, as Tony clambered up the grill like a monkey, before drapping doon oan tae the inside.

  “Catch, Johnboy!” he shouted jist before he started throwing trannys o’er the tap ae the grill.

  Johnboy caught the first wan bit wis still fumbling wae it when the second wan came o’er and landed oan the pavement at his feet.

  “Furget that, Johnboy!” Tony shouted as the trannys started tae come thick and fast.

  “Don’t furget the Grand Prix!” Johnboy shouted, still seeing the beauty sitting there.

  Tony scrambled oot ae the windae heid first and crawled like Spider Man doon the ootside ae the grill. When he swivelled roond and landed oan his feet like some kind ae trapeze artist, he shouted fur Johnboy tae grab as many as he could carry. Whit Johnboy hidnae noticed when they wur in the windae wis that maist ae the trannys hid leather covers attached tae them. He quickly started tae push the trannys intae their leather pouches. Whit seemed tae take ages, bit wis probably only seconds, proved well worth the delay. Johnboy hid two trannys in wan haun and wan in the other when he started tae follow Tony up the Saltmarket. Tony disappeared roond the corner and crossed o’er Argyle Street wae Johnboy following no far behind. Some people who’d been walking alang the Saltmarket and the Gallowgate stoapped tae see whit aw the commotion wis, bit wance Tony and Johnboy turned intae Argyle street and nipped across the road intae the wee quiet street oan the opposite side, they wur safely oan their way. Johnboy caught up wae Tony as they crossed Blackfriars Street, heiding towards the Fruitmarket. They slowed doon and started tae walk tae get their breaths back.

  “How many did ye get?” Johnboy asked.

  “Two plus the Grand Prix,” Tony panted back, wae a big grin oan his kisser.

  “Where ur we heiding wance we get there?”

  “Let’s take the trannys tae the yard where we stashed the dosh,” Tony said.

  They started tae run again, tae put mair distance between themsels and the shoap. The trannys wur slapping aff their hips each time their feet pounded oan the pavement. They jist aboot shat themsels when they saw blue flashing lights and heard the sound ae bells as they heided towards the start ae the big hill at the bottom ae Montrose Street, bit it wis only the fire engines heiding oot ae the fire station oan Ingram Street. When they goat tae Grafton Square, they nipped through Parvais’s close and o’er the back wall, insteid ae heiding up the lane. The place wis as quiet as a graveyard and they stashed the trannys up oan the dummy flair. Tony checked tae make sure that their stash tin wis still sitting where they’d left it.

  Within a few minutes, they wur staunin, talking, oan the corner ae Grafton Square and Grafton Street. There wis an amazing smell ae spiced food in the air, wafting aw aboot them. It wis the same smell that came aff the grub that Parvais used tae bring tae school in a tin box.

  “Ah wonder how Joe and Skull goat oan?” Johnboy wondered oot loud.

  “Ach, well, Ah bet they didnae dae as good as us, eh?” Tony said, smiling under the streetlight.

  Efter another couple ae minutes, Tony said cheerio tae Johnboy and heided doon Grafton Street tae McAslin Street, h
eiding fur hame. Johnboy crossed the road intae Montrose Street, where he bumped intae his big sister, Isabelle, and her boyfriend John, winching doon at the closemooth. They baith went up the stairs and intae the hoose thegither.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  “How did ye get oan wae the boys?” asked The Big Man.

  “They wur slobbering tae get their manky wee mitts oan the cabin. Ah hid tae haud them back, they wur that excited,” Shaun The Basturt said, laughing.

  “Aye, well, wait till they find oot the place is due tae be demolished, alang wae every other building in the area, tae make way fur a motorway. That’ll teach the wee basturts tae dae their hamework, eh?”

  “That wee Skull wan is a bit ae a nippy sweetie.”

  “Whit wan’s he?”

  “Remember years ago, me and Danny hid tae knock fuck oot ae some wee prick tae get yer good Horseman aff ae him and we put oot the story that it wis him that punted me a doo wae TB?”

  “Aye, a right wee lippy prick who thought he could kick a baw, if ma memory serves me well. The wan who widnae play the game, despite knowing the rules and who involved Flypast in trying tae rip us aff efter getting offered a decent price oan it?”

  “Aye, well, it’s the fruit ae his loins. He’s a right ugly wee thing. Ye’ve probably seen him aboot. He’s always wearing fitba boots and an auld flea-bittened Jags jersey fae the nineteen fifties, wae a Celtic tammy tae cover that baldy napper ae his. Danny wis up fur booting his arse fur the lip he wis gieing us, bit Ah managed tae persuade him tae let it go.”

  “Aye, Ah’ve clocked him running aboot wae the Atalian. Tony’s a lippy wee fucker as well. Ah quite like him though. They’ll come in handy, that wee manky mob.”

  “Aye, the others didnae say much. He’s the wan that’s running them. Any shite in the future and we’ll deal wae him first. The rest will jist cave in.”

  “Well, we’ll see whit happens wae the trannys. Everywan Ah speak tae is asking me if Ah kin get ma hauns oan them. Even the basic wans will get me a fiver a shot. Kirsty! Kirsty! Gaun see who that is at the door, hen. Tell them we’re no in…it’s Sunday.”