Parly Road: The Glasgow Chronicles 1

by Ian Todd

  “Aye, Pat.”

  “Right, aff ye go son.”

  “Right, see youse later. Bye Kirsty,” Calum shouted, power walking towards the door at a steady hunner mile an hour.

  “Oh, and Calum?”

  “Aye, Pat?”

  “Ye kin still see they fancy Adidas stripes through the arse ae they shorts ae yours.”

  “Ach, ye’re something else, Pat, so ye ur. Ye don’t think Ah’m gonnae fall fur that wan again, dae ye? Ye’re jist as bad as that Kirsty wan,” Calum said laughing, as he disappeared through the swing doors.

  Chapter Forty Three

  “Whit dae youse think then?” Tony asked, as they wur aw bent o’er, peeking oot through the bottom three inches ae the stairheid landing windae, oan the tap flair landing ae a closemooth opposite the Murphys’ loft dookit.

  It looked awesome. They’d two landing boards wae holar boxes oan either side ae them sitting aboot thirty feet apart, hauf way up the roof, right oan tap ae the slates. Wan ae them wis still under construction, bit the other wan wis in full operation. There wur doos and hens coming and gaun fae it. Ye could jist make oot the face ae somebody between the holar boxes in the middle ae the operational landing board. Each time a doo or a hen landed, the hood wis snapped up and a pair ae hauns appeared oot tae lift it in.

  “Ah’m no sure.”

  “How high up ur we fae the ground, wance we’re oan the roof?”

  “Who knows…probably aboot sixty tae seventy feet? And that’s jist fae the ground tae the edge ae the slates behind the gutters.”

  Between the two landing boards, a big chimney stack wis sitting right oan the edge, jist above the gutter. It wis aboot six feet wide and looked tae be aboot ten feet high. It stood right deid centre between the landing boards. There wur six clay chimney pots oan the tap that hid smoke belching oot ae four ae them.

  “So, if we fuck up and slip, we might hiv a chance if we kin manage tae heid towards the back ae the stack.”

  “We could use the back ae the stack tae store up the doos before we move them aff the roof. It wid also gie us shelter fae the hooses oan this side.”

  “Tae get through between they holar boxes oan either side ae the landing board, we’ll need tae come doon oan tae them fae the tap. It’s too dodgy trying tae slither up tae them fae the back ae the chimney stack, especially if it rains.”

  “If we slide doon oan tae the roof ae the boxes fae the ridge at the tap ae the roof, that means we’ll only hiv aboot ten feet tae worry aboot tae reach the boxes and the landing board.”

  “We’ll need wan ae us inside the dookit snatching the doos and haunin them oot, wan sitting oan tap ae the roof ae the holar boxes tae collect them and then tae haun them up tae wan ae us who’ll be sitting up oan the ridge at the tap. The wan oan the ridge will then need tae walk the doos alang the tap tae the last wan ae us, who’ll be sitting in the roof space where we come oot oan tae the slates in the first place.”

  Silence.

  “So, where ur we coming oot oan tae the roof fae then?”

  Eight eyes scanned the whole length ae the tenement roof opposite them.

  “Ah cannae see a bloody thing.”

  “There’s wan.”

  “Where?”

  “Kin ye no see it jist tae the left ae the stairwell roof glass, o’er in the right haun corner ae the tenement?” Joe said, as eight eyes swivelled tae the right.

  “Tae the left ae the glass?”

  “Aye, kin ye see it noo?”

  Aw the tenements in the Toonheid wur the shape ae a shoe box. Oan each ae the four corners there wis usually big massive square windaes oan the roofs tae let the light intae the stairwells ae the corner closes. The tenement they wur staunin in, which faced oan tae McAslin Street at the front, hid a break jist aff the centre ae it where the big tyre factory stood. They wur bent o’er looking at the back ae the long, unbroken section that ran the length ae Ronald Street and where the Murphys hid their wee doo-breeding operation, up the close ae number seventy.

  “Goat it!”

  “That wee tiny black square thing?” Johnboy asked.

  “Aye. That’s a wee sliding door hatch, built intae the roof so the workmen kin get oan tae the slates tae dae repairs. Ye’d probably need tae come up the close in St James Road tae get tae it.”

  “So, where’s the other wan then?”

  “See it away o’er tae oor left? Jist tae the right ae the glass,” Joe said, as eight eyes zoomed back alang the roof tae the far left.

  Johnboy clocked it straightaway, noo that he knew whit he wis looking fur.

  “Right, that’s the wan we should go fur. It’s the wan closest tae the boxes that they’re still working oan and it’s through them that we’ll need tae go tae get intae the loft. Furget trying tae go through the hatch they’re using. They’ll hiv that well bolted fae the inside wae a big steel ‘L’ bar.”

  Silence.

  “Ah’m no convinced.”

  “Aboot whit?”

  “Look at the two landing boards fae where we ur jist noo. Tae get intae the sliding roof door oan the left means we’ll hiv tae come in via a closemooth oan Taylor Street. Although the sliding door is closer tae the wan under construction, we’d be coming doon the stairs straight oan tae Taylor Street.”

  Silence.

  “So?”

  “So, kin ye imagine wan ae us nipping doon the stairs oan tae Taylor Street wae a pile ae doos hoot ‘n’ nannying and bumping intae wan ae the Murphys heiding back fae the pub tae collect his gun because he wants tae shoot some poor basturt he’s taken umbridge tae? The pub is jist roond the corner oan McAslin Street. Taylor Street is the route they’d be coming and gaun fae tae get back hame tae Ronald Street.”

  Silence.

  “So, we need tae come fae the St James Road end then? Is that whit ye’re saying?”

  Eight eyes zoomed back across tae the right again.

  “That means we’re adding oan an extra thirty feet or so, tae travel wae the doos alang the tap ae the roof tae get tae the wan that’s being built. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.”

  Silence.

  “Aye and naw. When we get intae the loft through the hatch that isnae finished, we kin take aff the L-shaped security bar oan the operational box fae the inside. That’ll gie us back oor thirty feet we lost tae get in. They ‘L’ bars ur usually jist held oan by a bolt underneath the board, wae the tap ae the ‘L’ bar held against the door tae stoap thieving basturts like us pushing oor way in through the hatch. Ah cannae see they Murphy pricks changing their security fae whit they hid when they hid oor cabin, kin youse?”

  Silence.

  “Right, Joe. Yersel and Skull…heid roond tae the corner close in St James Road and check oot the skylight hatch oan the tap landing fur getting in. Masel and Johnboy here…we’ll dae the wan in Taylor Street, in case we need a fall-back position. Is everywan okay wae that?”

  “Nae bother. Okay, let’s go, Mr Magoo,” Joe said, straightening up.

  “Fuck you, Joe. Ah don’t even come close tae looking like Mr Magoo, ya ugly prick, ye,” Skull snarled, following Joe doon the stairs.

  “Right, we’ll see youse back at the cabin in hauf an hour.”

  When Johnboy and Tony reached the tap landing in Taylor Street, baith their eyes wur glued tae the hatch. It wis aboot ten tae twelve feet up above the landing and sat oan the ceiling between the door that said ‘Mrs McGeachy’ and the bannister haundrail. It also hid two big brand new padlocks hinging fae each end, attached tae the hatch door and the square entry sides.

  “Ah’ve never noticed these wee hatches in the tap landings before,” Johnboy whispered.

  “Aye, aw the buildings hiv them.”

  “Dae they aw hiv these big padlocks as well?”

  “Naw, wan ae the hooses must’ve been broken intae. Whoever done it probably went up intae the roof space and kicked a hole doon through the ceiling.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Aye, Ah’ll need tae
show ye how it’s done. We don’t usually screw people’s hooses unless we know there’s plenty ae dosh or we don’t like the basturts that live there.”

  “Ah’ll need tae warn ma maw. We live oan the tap landing.”

  “Hiv you no goat loft rooms in your hoose?”

  “Aye, there’s two. Wan wae a windae built oan tae the roof at the back and the other wan at the front disnae hiv anything.”

  “Then ye’re okay.”

  “How did ye know we hid upstairs loft rooms?”

  “Because wan time Ah wis screwing wan ae the hooses at the bottom ae your close and Ah clocked them when Ah wis checking it oot. Is that guy who his a stall in the Barras still living there?”

  “Aye.”

  “It wis his hoose. We couldnae get in, bit managed tae tan his basement storage, doon at the bottom ae the back stairs insteid.”

  “Did ye get away wae a lot ae stuff? Ah heard ma ma and da talking aboot it at the time.”

  “Aye, we goat tons ae shoes, blankets still in their wrappers and boxes full ae stockings and they new fancy tights. The tights cost us a few bob though as we hid tae gie some people back their money.”

  “How come?”

  “Maist ae the tights hid three legs in them or wan leg wis bigger than the other. They must’ve been factory rejects. Skull and Paul wur wanting tae go back and demand their money back aff ae him.”

  “So, any word ae Paul, Tony?” Johnboy asked him as they heided doon towards McAslin Street.

  “Aye, he’s still in The Grove. He’ll probably get sent tae an approved school. So, we wullnae see him fur a while, until he manages tae escape and heid back here. He’ll be chuffed aboot the cabin though. It’ll gie him somewhere tae kip and he’ll hiv Skull fur company.”

  “Is it true whit they say aboot The Grove?” Johnboy asked, as a ginger cat shot past them intae a closemooth, being pursued by Elvis and wan ae his mongrel side-kicks that Johnboy didnae recognise.

  “Whit aboot it?”

  “That ye’re always in danger ae getting yer arse shagged by wan ae the teachers.”

  “Naw, Ah widnae listen tae Joe or Skull, Johnboy. There’s a couple ae dodgy wans…in fact, mair than a few, who’d shag a barber’s flair if they goat hauf a chance, bit you’d be okay. You’d be sitting wae the Shamrock crowd. Nowan wid mess wae ye, or that arse ae yers…believe you me.”

  “Whit, Ah’m no in the Shamrock, am Ah?”

  “Kind ae.”

  “Whit dis that mean?”

  “It means ye come fae the Toonheid and ye run aboot wae us. Aw oor big brothers, uncles and cousins aw ran aboot wae the Shamrock fae when they wur snappers.”

  “Bit Ah’m a Proddy.”

  “So whit? So wis Jesus.”

  “Wis he?”

  “Naw, he wis a Jew, bit it’s the same difference. Don’t believe every lying basturt who tells ye that aw the boys who run aboot wae the Shamrock ur Catholics.”

  “So, dae Ah hiv tae join then?”

  “Naw, nowan joins. Maist ae the people who go aboot shouting ‘Shamrock, ya bass,’ don’t really run aboot wae each other every day. They aw come fae the same place, usually went tae the same school and end up either drinking in the same pubs when they grow up or end up in the same jails. It’s only when there’s a fight tae be hid that they aw come thegither.”

  “Ah never knew that.”

  “Aye, who says ye need tae go tae school tae learn something new every day, eh?”

  “Here’s something Ah’ll teach ye then. It’s exactly three hunner and eighty four steps between the close we jist came oot ae in Taylor Street and where we ur the noo, ootside The McAslin Bar. So, if any ae the Murphys wur tae heid hame, gieing they’ve goat bigger steps than us, it wid be aboot three hunner and twenty steps before they’d be likely tae bump intae wan ae us. So, Joe wis probably right aboot no using the loft in Taylor Street.”

  “Fuck’s sake, Professor, ye’ll need tae show me how ye kin count up tae three hunner and eighty four, while still talking and listening tae aw the shite Ah’ve been spouting.”

  “Ah probably missed a couple ae steps. Ah’ll show ye, if ye tell me how tae kiss a lassie.”

  “Whit? How tae get tae kiss her or how tae kiss, as in gieing her a smacker?”

  “Kiss her as in being allowed tae stick that tongue ae mine doon her gullet.”

  “Hiv ye goat a girlfriend then? Somewan ye fancy daeing that tae?”

  “Ah don’t know. Remember we met the two lassies up oan Glebe Street when we wur tailing Fat Finger Flickerer Milne?”

  “Aye, the son ae Tarzan who goat his baws booted inside oot?”

  “Well, wan ae them is called Senga. She’s a darling, so she is, bit Ah’m no sure she’s that keen.”

  “Oan whit?”

  “Oan me.”

  “How dae ye know?”

  “She widnae take ma good box ae Maltesers aff ae me.”

  “Is that the wans we ate, sitting up oan the lavvy roof?”

  “Aye.”

  “Fucking lovely they wur, bit ye’re right.”

  “Aboot whit?”

  “If she knocked back a box ae good Maltesers, she obviously disnae want anything tae dae wae ye, especially that manky tongue ae yours.”

  “It wis her birthday as well.”

  “Ma advice tae you is tae dump her before it’s too late.”

  “Fur whit?”

  “Before ye gie her a second chance and make an arse ae yersel again.”

  “Dae ye think so?”

  “That’s experience talking, bit take it or leave it.”

  “Aye, ye’re right, Tony. As ae noo, she’s dumped.”

  “Well said!”

  “So whit’s the score then, Joe?”

  “Nae bother. The baith ae us went up intae the loft space and hid a wee gander. We opened the sliding roof hatch and peeked oot. The space between the hatch and the operational landing board looks a lot shorter than it looked fae the stairheid windae we wur looking oot ae. That daft knob-end, Skull, wanted tae go oot and alang the roof tae hiv a closer look.”

  “Naw, Ah didnae.”

  “Skull, ye’ll hiv tae dae as ye’re telt. We’re supposed tae be a team. If ye fuck up, we’re aw fucked up,” Tony warned him.

  “Ah wis jist wanting tae find oot whit the roof wis like fae the hatch tae the tap ae the ridge.”

  “Aye, bit it’s broad daylight, fur Christ’s sake, and the Murphys wur probably sitting in the loft.”

  “Aye, okay, Ah’m sorry. Bit jist make sure that it’s me that’s gaun intae the loft tae haun oot the doos.”

  “If ye fuck up between noo and the weekend, ye’ll be the wan sitting back in the entry loft oan St James Road waiting fur us tae take the doos tae you. Ah’m no kidding ye, Skull…ye need tae dae as ye’re telt.”

  “See the trouble ye’re causing, Joe, ya fanny, ye,” Skull scowled, looking across at Joe.

  “So, when ur we gonnae tan it, Tony?” Joe asked, oan aw their behauf, ignoring Skull.

  “We need tae figure oot how we kin get in and oot withoot any ae they Murphy wankers being aboot. Ah’m no sure an all-nighter wid work when they’re aw in their kip. Ah’m worried aboot the noise ae us gaun o’er the slates. It widnae be too bad if we wur daeing a couple ae journeys wae hauf a dozen doos, bit we’re up there tae clean the place oot so we’d be bound tae wake the pricks up when they’re lying in their beds jist underneath us.”

  “We could always haud back oan paying aff oor second whack and jist pay aff wan week’s interest. We could then jist hing aboot waiting fur oor chance and take it when it comes.”

  “That’ll no work. Where the hell ur we gonnae stash fifty doos wance we blag them? The first place they’ll heid fur is here and the second will be Flypast’s. Naw, we need tae get this tae work first time. We won’t get another bite ae the biscuit. The planning is the crucial part, bit Ah’m fucked if Ah know whit we should dae the noo.”

  “Ah think Ah know wh
it we kin dae,” Johnboy said.

  They aw turned and gawped at Johnboy.

  “Johnboy, jist leave this wan tae us professionals, eh? We’ll let you know whit we want ye tae dae, like sit in the loft waiting fur the doos tae be haunded o’er,” Skull snickered.

  “Aye, Ah suppose.”

  “Skull, shut the fuck up and stoap noising Johnboy up. Don’t listen tae Mr Magoo sitting there. He’s only winding ye up.”

  “Stoap calling me Mr Magoo, ya bunch ae tits, ye. Ah’ve telt youse before, Ah don’t even look like that wee baldy misfit.”

  “Naw, bit he looks like you,” Joe said, no being able tae haud his wheesht.

  “Whit ur ye saying, Johnboy?” Tony asked him, gieing Joe a dirty look.

  “There’s a big party oan in the pub oan Saturday night. Ma ma and da ur gaun wae ma granny and granda. It’s The Big Man’s maw or da’s birthday or something.”

  “Ye’re kidding us oan.”

  “Naw, they’ve been oan aboot it fur weeks. The Provi-cheque man his been up at the hoose dishing oot dosh the last couple ae weeks. Kin ye no remember Calum Todd, The Big Man’s runner, mentioning it tae us a couple ae weeks ago?” Johnboy said, as the other three suddenly bursting oot laughing. “Whit? Whit hiv Ah said noo?”.

  Skull started it aff by waving his Celtic tammy above his heid as he danced roond the flair singing ‘Ah’m no a Billy, Ah’m a Tim’, while Tony and Joe jumped up and started hugging each other before doubling up, laughing hysterically. Given that Johnboy wis a bluenose, he wisnae gonnae join in wae Mr Magoo and the other two, so he jist stood there wae a big cheesy grin oan his coupon.

  “Aye, ye’re something else, Johnboy. That’s it, Ah take everything back. We’re no gonnae chuck ye oot ae the Mankys fur being stupid this week. Ah vote we let Johnboy join us oan another two weeks probation,” Skull shouted, tae mair laughter.