The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter: The Glasgow Chronicles 3

by Ian Todd

  “Aye, well, it’s a pity Paul disnae follow the advice he feels qualified tae dish oot tae others. He kin be quite kind, friendly and helpful, when he wants tae, bit there’s another side tae him that’s no so nice. He’s been running aboot wae a wee gang since he wis a wean. Nae matter whit that ma and da ae mine tried tae dae, tae get him tae stay oan the straight and narrow, it jist didnae work, including ma da ladling intae him wae a leather belt. Nothing seemed tae get through tae him. They wur actually relieved when he goat put tae an approved school, Ah remember. They wur scared ae whit wis gonnae happen tae him wae him being oot oan the streets tae aw hours. He totally broke them wae his behaviour. Wan day, Ma went and spoke wae Father Joseph, doon at St Mungo’s, hoping tae get some sort ae advice. He telt her that her and Da hid tae accept that they’d lost Paul tae the devil. ‘He’s a lost boy now, Mrs McBride. Accept it and move on. I’ll pray for him oan behauf ae you and Mr McBride,’ he’d said tae her.”

  “A priest said that about Paul?”

  “Aye, kin ye imagine? Ah wis only aboot sixteen at the time, bit Ah remember hivving a terrible row wae her. Ah pointed oot that the only reason he wis saying that wis because Paul and his pals hid stripped the lead aff ae the roof ae the chapel vestry and sold it tae wan ae the local scrap dealers fur a few bob. It wis only efter that, that Ah realised that Ma and Da wur grateful fur somewan else tae take the burden aff their shoulders…and conscience.”

  Saba explained how Whitey and Innes hid, fur years, taken in waifs and strays, tae recuperate fae trauma or tae gie their parents respite. She said that it wis almost always boys, but much younger than Paul. Aw the families in the strath and surrounding area called them ‘lost boys,’ no oot ae malice, bit as a way ae rationalising the circumstances that the boys hid found themsels in. She explained how Whitey and Innes wur universally viewed as living saints in the strath because ae the care they’d shared o’er the years.

  “I find it incredible that Paul had already been labelled with the term ‘lost boy’ long before he ever set foot in the strath. Do you think he is a lost boy?” Saba asked his sister.

  “Ah think he lost his way a long time ago, bit you seem tae know him a lot better than whit Ah dae. Whit dae ye think yersel? It sounds tae me that he’s a lost cause mair than anything else.”

  “I don’t know. He gives the impression that he’s in control of what he does. I think that if he put his energy into something more productive and less criminal, he would probably be a success at whatever he did,” Saba replied, before gaun oan tae tell Kathleen aboot Paul working oan the croft and how it hid been reported that Innes hid been heard tae say that Paul wis the son that he’d never hid.

  “Whit an opportunity, eh? There’s nae way he’ll stay oot ae the jail if he comes back tae Glesga, that’s fur sure. So, is he planning tae go back up tae the Highlands?”

  “He’s taking the money he received for selling the boat back up to Mr McKay, but he’s made it clear that he’s returning to Glasgow soon after. When he does open up, he talks a lot about his friends.”

  “Whit a bloody waste! Ah wish somewan could talk sense intae that heid ae his…the bampot that he is.”

  “Have you met his friends, Kathleen?”

  “Who? Ali Baba and the forty thieves? Oh aye…wance met, never forgotten. There’s five ae them, including Paul. When they’re no in the jail, they go everywhere wae each other. They spend every waking minute getting up tae nae good. Nothing’s too expensive or too cheap tae steal. If they take a fancy tae something, they go fur it. They really don’t care who they upset or whose toes they trample oan, although, Ah’ve heard that they don’t hiv a reputation fur taking liberties, like some ae the toe-rags aboot this place. Wan ae the boys, Johnboy Taylor…his ma used tae go oot wae wan ae the big gangsters in Glesga…a guy called Pat Molloy, or The Big Man, as he’s widely known as.”

  “Yes, Paul mentioned his name a few times.”

  “Well, Ah’ve heard that’s maybe wan ae the reasons that they’ve been allowed tae get away wae blue murder fur so long. Some ae the local tickets…”

  “Tickets?”

  “So-called up-and-coming hard men. They’re no sure ae the status ae the boys and so they’re a bit wary that if they go kicking the arses ae Paul and his manky pals, there might be swift retribution fae The Big Man and his cronies. That worries me because Ah know Helen Taylor. She lives jist roond the corner in Carlisle Street and she cannae staun the sight ae Pat Molloy. If only Paul wid go back tae the Highlands and that wee lassie that he’s fell fur,” Kathleen said wistfully.

  “I doubt if that will happen, Kathleen,” Saba said, as wan ae the weans woke the other wan up wae the worst coughing fit Saba hid ever heard.

  “Right, Saba, go and get yer bath, hen, bit while ye’re here, Ah jist hiv tae warn ye that wan ae ma weans his goat croup. It’s a breathing ailment, bit the sound ae the coughing kin be a bit disturbing if ye hivnae come across it before. It disnae help that this place is riddled wae damp, even in the summer. Try and no let it bother ye. Ah’ll jist go and put the kettle oan. Ah usually put boiling water intae a basin and sit wae him in the kitchen, under the table, which Ah cover wae that bed sheet that’s hinging up. The steam helps him tae breathe mair easily. The doctor says the steam opens up his tubes and makes breathing easier, so don’t be alarmed if Ah’m no sitting here wance ye’re finished,” Kathleen said, as she picked up eighteen-month-old Jimmy Junior.

  Chapter Seventy Six

  “Fuck’s sake, it’s the cat wae nineteen lives. Ur ye no deid yet, ya wanker, ye?” Chic Shand asked, looking disappointed as Paul entered Greasy Jake’s office.

  “How’s that dug ae mine, Jake?” Paul asked, as Wan-eye sauntered across and started making a big fuss ae Paul.

  “Fucking stoating dug that. Ye should see the tricks Ah’ve taught him since ye’ve been away. He’s a bloody genius, so he is,” Greasy Jake replied, in wonderment.

  “Aw, ye’ve put a chain choker oan him, Jake. Thanks,” Paul said, delighted.

  “Ye cannae hiv that wee dug running aboot wae a bloody bit ae rope tied roond his neck, ya eejit, ye. He’s too classy and intelligent fur that. Here, take this as well,” Jake said, throwing a chain leash across tae Paul.

  “Fuck, Ah’ve seen it aw noo. Jake and his wan-eyed dug fucks aff and joins the circus. Ma auld granny’s goldfish kin dae better tricks than that wan-eyed mongrel,” Chic scoffed.

  “Ah thought ye goat me tae bury that auld bat in the back ae an auld Morris Six MS tae get her hoose aff ae her,” Jake said tae Chic.

  “Naw, naw, that wis ma other granny, ya eejit, ye. Ye’re thinking ae the wan that kept shitting her drawers aw the time and refused tae go tae the doctor tae see whit the fuck the matter wis wae her. And you, ya dafty, here’s the keys fur a white Ford Cortina Mk Two that’s sitting beside the office, jist as ye go intae the car park at the bottom ae Montrose Street. When ye put it back, it better be in wan piece or it won’t be The Big Man that ye should worry aboot,” Chic growled, throwing o’er the keys.

  “Whit aboot ma plates?

  “They’re wrapped up in that broon paper.”

  “Dae ye want tae sell me the dug, Paul?”

  “Sorry, Jake, he’s apprenticed tae a poacher and he’s still goat a lot ae training aheid ae him,” Paul said, heiding oot ae Jake’s office tae face the two Alsatian guard dugs who let rip when they spotted Wan-eye leaving.

  Chapter Seventy Seven

  “What now?” The Highland Fox asked The Stalker, as they drove away fae the railway station in Stirling.

  “Ah’ve spoken tae ma boss and he reckons the trail his gone cauld. Ah smell a rat, so Ah dae. Let’s heid intae Glesga and see whit the score is there. We’re no gonnae get anything aboot here.”

  “You don’t think we should head back to Loch Lomond?”

  “Naw, we’ll probably never be able tae prove it, bit Ah bet ye that yer pal, McBride, hid something tae dae wae this wild goose chase.”

&n
bsp; “What about his friends?”

  “There’s nothing coming through fae Aberdeen. They wankers widnae know a stolen car if it ran o’er the tap ae them. Naw, Ah think oor Paul is in the city awready, laughing at us aw making an arse ae oorsels.”

  “And what about myself? Should I just head back up north?”

  “Ye kin drap me aff in the toon and heid oan yer way, or ye kin stay o’er and heid back up first thing the morra. It’s up tae yersel, Swein. If ye decide tae stay, Ah’ll gie ye a tour ae the city. Jist because we hivnae come across McBride and the lassie, disnae mean tae say the boys in the city will gie up looking fur her. Wan thing’s fur sure, though...if she’s in the city, then Pat Molloy will be turning the place upside doon, trying tae get his hauns oan her.”

  “I’ll take you into the city and I’ll decide then if I’ll stay the night or head back up north,” The Highland Fox said, as The Stalker telt him tae turn right at the next junction.

  Chapter Seventy Eight

  “Pat, ye don’t believe that fucking lying weasel, dae ye?” Shaun Murphy asked The Big Man, as Danny Murphy, Peter The Plant and The Goat entered the Club.

  “McBride? Dae Ah look like a fanny?”

  “Christ, fur a minute there, Ah thought ye wur jist gonnae let that fly basturt saunter aff withoot spilling the beans oan where the lassie is.”

  “Right, whit’s the score, boys?”

  “Nothing. The bizzies surrounded a Landy and dragged two terrified passengers oot oan tae the street. The bizzies wur aw ermed tae the teeth wae shooters. Danny thinks the wummin in the car wis sucking the salty sausage,” The Plant said.

  “Danny?” The Big Man asked him.

  “Well, we wur a good bit away bit Ah swear Ah could see a heid bobbing up and doon like a fucking yoyo,” Danny replied.

  “Naw, no that, ya fucking eejit. Ah meant, whit dae ye think the score wis oot in Stirling?”

  “Me? Ah thought it wis a total set-up fae start tae finish.”

  “How come?”

  “It wis obvious the bizzies didnae know where tae look. When we goat there, they wur driving roond in circles, then aw ae a sudden, they aw tanked alang the road and turned aff doon near the shore. The fact that they goat the wrang wans says it aw. Whit dae ye think, Peter?”

  “Ah hope they didnae pay whoever gied them the information because it wis red rotten, so it wis. Ah’d be demanding ma money back, wae interest.”

  “Whit’s yer thoughts, Pat?” Shaun asked his boss.

  “Whit dae Ah think? Ah think she’s awready in the toon and we need tae step up a gear. Ah think oor Paul wanted the car tae shift her somewhere. That’s why Ah wis happy tae oblige. The car is the answer. That white Mk Two will staun oot a mile up in they hoosing schemes. Ah want everywan tae put the word oot that if they see a white Cortina anywhere up in the Garngad, Balornock, Burmulloch, Possil, Springburn or Milton, Ah want tae know aboot it. Ah don’t fucking care who gies me the information, as long as Ah get it. Get the number fae the plates ae the Cortina fae Greasy Jake and spread them aboot. Ah want youse tae get as many ae the boys oot oan the street tae track doon Gucci, McManus, Taylor and that wee dopey wan they call Silent…no forgetting Paul McBride. Tell the boys no tae take any shite fae anywan. Any trouble and youse hiv goat the go-aheid tae crack a few skulls. Ah want that lassie the night.”

  “Whit if we come across her wae the toe-rags?” Shaun asked.

  “Fuck them. Ye heard me wanting tae negotiate and it wis thrown back in ma coupon. Naw, as soon as ye get word ae where she is, get in there, mob-haunded, and take her aff ae them. That’ll teach they cheeky wee fuckers no tae mess me aboot. Hiv youse aw goat that?”

  “Whit aboot Wan-bob? He’s still across at the train station in Queen Street. Dae ye want me tae gie him a shout?” Danny asked.

  “Naw, leave him there, jist in case Gucci his the brass neck tae walk aff a train wae her. Wan-bob phoned across tae say that he spotted McBride in the station earlier. He wis wanting tae know whit he should dae aboot it. He wisnae aware that McBride hid jist left the club earlier,” The Big Man replied.

  “Whit? McBride his awready been here and gone? Whit’s the score wae the rich bitch then?” The Plant asked, looking fae The Big Man tae Shaun, wae a puzzled expression oan his coupon.

  “Look, we don’t hiv time tae fuck aboot. Shaun will explain whit the score is oan route. Remember whit Ah said...take nae cheek and nae fucking prisoners either.”

  Chapter Seventy Nine

  Tuesday Night

  “Tell Pat whit ye’ve jist telt me, Wan-bob,” Shaun Murphy said, looking aw excited.

  “Remember Ah phoned ye earlier the day and telt ye that Ah spotted Paul McBride?”

  “Aye,” The Big Man replied.

  “Well, Ah think Ah might’ve picked up a wee light at the end ae the tunnel, as they say in railway parlance. Whit Ah didnae tell ye at the time, is that Ah clocked McBride gieing an envelope tae wan ae the porters at the goods section in the station.”

  “Aye, we gied him the envelope. It hid three hunner in it fur a Series Two Landy he sold us. Whit aboot it?”

  “Well, Ah didnae know it at the time, bit the guy he gied the envelope tae is his brother-in-law, Jimmy McGowan. Ah thought Ah recognised the useless basturt, bit ye know whit it’s like when they’re wearing they stupid wee hats,” Wan-bob said.

  “And?”

  “It’s took me a wee while, bit Ah managed tae find oot where the prick lives. He’s married tae McBride’s sister, Kathleen. Nice bit ae stuff in her time, until she started pinging oot snappers. Fuck knows whit she sees in that useless prick. Anyhow, they live up in Springburn.”

  “And ye think The Duke’s daughter might be up there? Surely the bizzies wid’ve turned them o’er alang wae the maw and da, if they’re no sitting ootside the hoose this very minute,” The Big Man said doubtfully.

  “Aye, well that’s the beauty ae it, Pat…they widnae know where tae look. Kathleen McGowan and that useless man ae hers did a moonlight flit earlier in the year. Nowan wid know where they’d disappeared tae…especially the polis. It’s taken me hauf the day tae track their address doon. Ah managed tae drag wan ae the station managers intae the cludgie ae The Queens Bar efter he finished his shift. He agreed tae go back in tae his work and get me the address.”

  “That wis good ae him,” Shaun acknowledged.

  “Aye, well, he knew he didnae hiv any choice, plus he goat a few quid intae the bargain.”

  “So, where aboot in Springburn dis she live, Wan-bob?” The Big Man asked, hope rising in his gut.

  “Three o two Keppochhill Road. It’s the nearest close tae Carlisle Street.”

  “Carlisle Street?”

  “The street across fae the wee bridge that takes ye o’er tae Sighthill.”

  “The wan wae the bowling green in it?”

  “Aye,” Shaun and Wan-bob replied.

  “Fuck! So, that’s where he’s dumped her, the fly basturt. Whit time is it?” The Big Man asked Shaun.

  “Hauf eight,” Wan-bob replied, looking at his wristwatch.

  “Right, go and get a couple ae cars. Let’s pay Sister Kathleen a wee visit, eh?” The Big Man said, tightening up the knot oan his tie.

  Kathleen hid jist put Jimmy Junior in the cot, efter gieing him his last steam session ae the night, when she looked at the clock.

  “Saba, ye better get yer skates oan…it’s quarter tae nine. Paul said ye couldnae be here any later than that or ye’ll miss the train.”

  “But where’s Paul? Do you think something has happened to him?” Saba asked, concern in her voice.

  “Ah wish Ah knew. Look, ye’ll hiv tae go…please,” Kathleen said, as the sound ae Jimmy Junior’s breathing quietened down tae a barely audible snore fae behind the curtain.

  “Should I not wait a few more minutes, Kathleen? What happens if he arrives just after I’ve gone?”

  “If he dis, he’ll catch up wae ye. Ah’m sure he’d want tae know that ye goat
away okay.”

  “What number did you say the bus is?”

  “It’s number thirty two. Ye kin see the bus stoap across the road fae the windae here. Tell the conductor ye’re gaun tae the Central Train Station and that ye need tae get aff oan Union Street. Paul said that ye’ll hiv tae sit oan the bottom deck ae the bus in the front row, well away fae the door. Ye’ve no tae sit where people kin see yer face when they’re getting aff and oan the bus.”

  “Why?”

  “Saba, Ah hivnae goat a bloody clue. Ye’ll jist hiv tae work it oot fur yersel, hen. Who knows whit goes roond in that heid ae ma brother’s hauf the time. If that’s whit he wants ye tae dae, then there’s probably some reason fur it. Tae be oan the safe side, Ah’d dae whit he says.”

  “Oh, you better take this and give it to Paul. This is the reason that we’re here in the first place,” Saba said, lifting an envelope oot ae her bag and haunin it tae Kathleen.

  “Whit is it?”

  “It’s the money that Paul got for selling Mr McKay...Innes’s boat. There’s five hundred pounds there. Give him this as well. He’ll need it to fix a horse’s hoof with someday,” Saba replied, gieing Kathleen the small red-haundled penknife.

  “Christ, five hunner quid? Ah’ve never seen or held that much money in aw ma life. Ye could buy a room and kitchen oan that in the toon, so ye could,” Kathleen gasped, weighing the envelope in her haun.

  Saba leaned across and gied Kathleen a hug.

  “Kathleen, thank you. Thank you for all you’ve done to assist me. I’ll never forget your warmth and kindness. I hope Jimmy Junior gets better. When I get to New York, I’ll send Junior and Heather some American toys that will make them the envy of all their little friends,” Saba said, picking up her bag and radio and walking tae the door.