by Ian Todd
“Is yer ma in, hen?”
“Oh, er, hing oan,” Sophie said, shuddering, shutting o’er the door.
“Who is it?”
“A big scary thing that looks like that Uncle Fester wan oot ae The Addams Family.”
“So, where is he then?” her ma asked, looking beyond her daughter’s shoulders towards the lobby.
“Oh, er, he’s ootside, hinging aboot. Ah wisnae too sure if Ah wis tae let him in.”
“Well, go and get him then,” her ma gruffly telt her, smiling, lighting up a fag.
“Aye, aye, Isa. How’s it gaun?”
“Ach, same shite, different day, Baby. Ye know whit like. Kin Ah get ye a wee cup ae tea? Ah’ve nae biscuits though.”
“Naw, naw. Ah’ve jist drapped Simon aff in the toon. He telt me tae take a run up tae see ye.”
“Aye, he said that ye’d be aroond at some point. So?”
“Ah’m no sure how much ye’ll see me, bit if ye need tae get in touch, leave a message at Honest George’s Garage alang oan Pinkston Road. Other than that, Ah’ll nip up oan a Thursday night, the same time as Simon. Is that okay?”
“Aye, nae problem, Baby, son. It’s been busy this week. Here ye go,” she said, slinging o’er a thick envelope. “Anything else while ye’re here?”
“Er, aye, there wis wan other thing. How dis it work? Simon never said.”
“Follow me,” Isa replied, getting up aff her chair, jist as the theme tune tae Coronation Street started up at the end ae the programme. “Right, girls, turn that shite aff. This is Baby…Simon’s wee brother,” she informed the three fourteen-year-aulds who wur sitting roond a circular table, wae hundreds ae bank cards in front ae them, stacked up in neat wee piles, as Pink Floyd’s ‘Welcome Tae The Machine’ blasted aff the turntable in the corner.
“Brother? Aye, right,” Sophie muttered under her breath, sitting back doon, as her pals grinned.
“Ah am,” Baby retorted, looking hurt.
“Oh, the lippy wan’s mine and the other two? Ach, who knows where the waifs and strays aboot here come fae,” Isa said, getting hoots ae laughter fae the lassies this time. “So, Baby here wants a wee quick demo. Who’s gonnae show him then?”
Baby watched, as the three lassies picked up a bank card each.
“Noo ye see it? Noo ye don’t,” Sophie said, showing him a Barclay’s card wae a signature oan it before she swiped it wae a wee bit a cotton wool, making the signature instantly disappear.
“Fucking hell,” he exclaimed, as the other two lassies repeated the process efter dipping their bits ae cotton wool intae a jam jar lid full ae liquid.
It wis only then that he noticed that they wur wearing rubber gloves.
“Whit’s the solution?” he asked.
“Brake fluid,” Isa replied. “It’s the only thing that’ll wipe away the ballpoint ink withoot spoiling the card.”
“Ah’m impressed.”
“Barclay’s ur the maist sought efter. They gie ye up tae a hunner quid in credit each month,” Isa explained back through in the living room. “Simon said the rule is no tae carry a card intae the next month, so they aw hiv tae be used as soon as they become available.”
“Whit aboot the Clydeside wans?”
“Fifty quid, the same as the other banks. Twenty percent ae the cards that Simon put up tae us get the snip. It’s hard tae explain, bit if they don’t feel or look right, they get cut,” Isa explained, nodding tae the wee tub full ae hauf cards sitting oan her coffee table, using her fingers tae imaginary cut a card. “Ten percent usually go the same way if they’re within three months ae expiring. Thirty percent ae oor Scottish cards get wrapped up and sent doon tae London tae oor biggest supplier and we use forty percent fur oor ain use. Big Geraldine Forest and Maggie Louden cover the toon while Angela Baxter and Cissy Geddes cover the oot-ae-toon areas like Airdrie, Coatbridge, Wishaw, Stirling and Perth. We don’t go further north than Dundee. We’ve goat forty eight wummin working fur us. Every two weeks, we swap the teams aboot, bringing in the lassies fae ootside. Ah’m trying tae establish local teams oot ae the city. There’s a lot ae transport tae timetable in, so there is, bit everywan seems happy enough wae their cut.”
Baby wis aware that Isa wis studying him closely.
“Ach Isa, hen, don’t you be getting yersel intae a tizzy noo. Ma presence here his goat absolutely nothing tae dae wae you. This is only a short-term break that Simon’s hivving. There’s a lot gaun oan jist noo. Everywan’s happy wae whit youse ur daeing, so they ur,” Baby reassured her, as Isa visibly relaxed. “Look, Ah’ll let ye get back tae yer programmes. Ah’ll see ye next week.”
“Aye, okay, son. Gie that wee maw ae yours ma regards.”
“Bye, girls,” Baby shouted, heidin alang the lobby and bursting oot laughing, as he heard the lassies whistling The Addams Family theme tune, as Isa’s eyed rolled in her heid as she shut o’er the door ae the bungalow behind him.
Chapter Twelve
Wilma and Jean sat in silence opposite their chief inspector’s office in Craigie Street, staring intae space. They hidnae spoken tae each other in the past five minutes as they baith collected their thoughts. The corridor in the station wis fur wance eerily quiet, apart fae the distant ringing ae phones and the muffled replies when they wur answered oot in the reception area. Wilma turned and looked at her partner. Jean wis sitting furiously chewing oan her KP chewing gum, forcing that tongue ae hers fae between her lips tae stretch it and producing wee white opaque bubbles that burst instantly, before she went fur another attempt. Wilma hid never been intae chewing gum efter she’d gone hame fae primary school wan day and asked her ma if she could gently tease oot the matted red lump ae Bazooka that Alan Christie, who sat behind her in class, hid deliberately leaned o’er and welded intae her lovely blond tresses oan the back ae that heid ae hers. It hid been jist before the school bell hid gone aff fur the day that she’d discovered it. She reckoned that if she wis tae sit and confess aw her wee foibles tae a psychiatrist, that wid be wan ae the key triggers that wid be identified as tae why she hated that demented mother ae hers efter she’d whipped oot a big pair ae craft scissors and cut aw her hair aff. The fact that the scissors wur serrated wans tae ensure cloth material widnae fray efter it hid been cut, hid made the mess even mair horrendous. She remembered coming across an auld black and white photo ae aw these French wummin…collaborators…who’d slept wae the Germans during the occupation and who’d been shorn by aw the local wummin when they wur liberated, when she wis at secondary school. She remembered thinking that’s how she must’ve looked efter she’d been turfed oot the door and sent back tae school the next morning. The auld git hid hid the cheek tae tie a pink bow, held oan by an elastic band, intae wan ae the wee longer tufts that wis sticking up oan the tap ae her heid. Efter surviving the humiliation ae the other gawking normal maws, drapping aff their weans at the school gates, and being subjected tae howls ae ridicule fae her so-called pals in the playground, who’d refused tae speak tae her oan account ae the fact that they wurnae too sure if whit wis wrang wae her heid wis contagious, she’d hid tae go through the whole rigmarole again wae Miss Star wance she reached the classroom. She couldnae remember if it wis a real barber they’d fetched in tae the school or wan ae the nurses fae the scabies clinic alang the road. Whoever it hid been, hid tried their best tae make something oot ae a bad job. When she’d gone hame, her ma hid gone aff her heid because the barber hid cut aff the wee clump wae the pink ribbon in it. Wan ae the school board officers, who spent maist ae his time hunting doon the school doggers in the area, hid duly arrived up at the hoose demanding an explanation fur the child neglect, bit hid been sent packing wae a flea in his ear, wae her ma complaining aboot pupils being allowed in tae school wae bubble gum. She’d even hid the cheek tae complain tae the local cooncillor aboot the school, the same cooncillor that her da thought she wis hivving an affair wae. She glanced alang the corridor towards the reception. She wanted tae nip alang tae the lavvy fur a quick
pee, bit held back. Before she could make up her mind whether tae chance a mad dash, the new female Superintendent, Munro, the wan whose first name she couldnae remember, hid jist breezed past them, withoot acknowledging their presence a few seconds earlier, disappearing in tae the same room they’d been bound fur. As soon as the door shut o’er behind Superwummin, they’d turned and looked at each other nervously, before Jean’s jaws hid started gaun like the clappers. Two hours earlier, Jean hid sat oot in the car while Wilma and the rest ae the sergeants, inspectors and chief inspectors covering the north, hid crammed themsels intae The Marine Courthoose, tae be introduced tae the queen ae the new year. Wae the uproar heidlines in the papers getting worse by the day oan polis corruption and sexual harassment allegations being made against the polis in the north by the Springburn Cooncillor, Barbara Allen, in amongst aw the other shite that hid been flying aboot, Wilma hid initially thought she wis aboot tae be suspended or something. Wherever her and Jean went in the north, they could see the palpable fear in everywan’s faces. It wis aw ‘Who’s gonnae be next?’ It wis only wance they’d arrived that she discovered that management wur taking advantage ae the empty courthoose building efter aw the procurator fiscals in the toon hid gone oan strike in support ae Glenda Metcalfe, the special liaison procurator fiscal between The Scottish Office oot in Edinburgh and the Assistant Chief Constable, Jack Tipple, who’d resigned the week before. Glenda Metcalfe appeared tae be getting the blame fur no hivving The Stalker and other senior officers in the polis arrested fur corruption earlier…the earlier being two years previously…fae whit her and Jean hid picked up. Of course, wae the amount ae rumours oan the go in the toon, it wis hard tae tell fact fae fiction. At first, her and Jean hid been confused at Wilma being included wae the rest ae the condemned across at The Marine, until they’d remembered that they’d been unexpectedly transferred tae make up the depleted numbers in the murder squad. Efter whit the new superintendent hid came oot wae at the meeting earlier, it looked like they’d be making mair room in the division, as she’d made it crystal clear that the weeding oot ae corrupt officers wid be continuing at a pace. Wilma hidnae been sure whether her colleagues in the courtroom wur terrified ae the new super or if the subdued heavy silence hid been due tae the dozen or so Highland chookter polismen and wummin scattered aboot in amongst the seated ranks. The new legend in the toon apparently called the ootsiders her “Skulks.”
“Skulks? Whit the hell’s a skulk when it’s at hame then?” she’d wondered oot loud tae Jean the day before.
“Foxes…baby foxes apparently,” she’d replied.
Wance the buzz in the courtroom hid died doon, The Super hid jist stood, casually leaning back oan the procurator’s table at the front, looking aboot at the upturned faces, sitting cramped in the public gallery in front ae her, as the two chief superintendents, Bob Mackerel, heid ae the two murder teams in the toon and Sam Bison, Serious Crime and Intelligence, sat oan either side ae her, looking glum, letting her take the flair. The few latecomers, mumbling their apologies, finding it hard tae locate an empty seat, hid stood exposed up the back, wilting fae that icy stare ae hers. Wilma hid tae admit that the braid, staunin up there in front ae them, hid been stunningly striking, in a gallows sort ae way. Dressed fae heid tae toe in her black uniform, apart fae her striking white face and silver buttons oan the pips ae they thin shoulders ae hers, her presence hid commanded instant attention. She’d wondered if any ae the guys in the room found her attractive. Wae her swept-back jet black hair, held in place by Kirbys that occasionally dazzled aff the overheid bright lights above her whenever she moved her heid, she sported long black eyelashes and ruby-red wine coloured lipstick against an alabaster-white, death mask complexion, that seemed oot ae place against the non-standard issue, patent black leather heeled shoes she wis wearing. Wilma could jist imagine the reaction fae across the city if any ae the female WPCs or sergeants in the toon turned up tae work looking like that. They widnae know whit hid hit them, bit here wis this…this, female…staunin there, inviting anywan tae dare and come oot wae the usual sexist wisecracks that the wummin in the room wid’ve expected in any other circumstances. Of course, ye could’ve heard a pin drap. Every single uniform in the room withoot exception, hid been totally shite scared ae her. In fact, oan reflection, Wilma thought she looked like a bloody executioner. The new superintendent hid hardly been oot ae the papers and the evening news since her and that chookter skulking crew ae hers fae The Highlands hid arrived upon an unsuspecting Glesga polis force. They’d suddenly popped up oot ae the blue and wiped oot the whole ae the management team in Central and North, efter they’d gone and done whit nowan else could’ve hoped tae achieve in their wildest dreams, which wis arrest Wan-bob Broon and Charlie Hastie, the two biggest gangsters in the toon, fur the murder ae a young nurse the year before as she’d finished her shift up at Stobhill Hospital. The papers, in fact aw the media, hid been gaun crazy o’er her efter Barbara Allen, the wee nippy cooncillor fur Springburn, hid dubbed her Cleopatra’s twin sister in an interview she’d gied, the same day that Jack Tipple hid resigned, efter she wis asked tae comment oan whit she thought ae the new superintendent. At the gathering, across at The Marine, Cleopatra hidnae messed aboot either.
“Now then, ladies and gentleman, my name’s Murdina Munro, and I’m the new superintendent for the central and north of the city. As you will probably have gathered, there have been a few sudden, but hopefully not surprising, personnel changes within the rank and file over the past week or so. For some of you, particularly our female colleagues, those changes may have been followed by sighs of relief whilst for others? Well, I’m sure we’ll come to that in just a moment,” Cleopatra hid purred pleasantly, leaning o’er tae her right and casually withdrawing a wee slim cigar oot ae a green leather fag case, as aw the plain clothed and uniformed wummin in the room’s faces broke intae big, astonished grins, while the braids in the stalls hid jist sat, staring glumly, at the apparition in front ae them, in horror, before furtively looking across at the two silent chief superintendents tae see whit their reaction wis…which fae where Wilma wis sitting, wis sweet F A, by the looks ae them.
“I do realise that for some…no, I’ll rephrase that, gentlemen…for most of you, change will be difficult, but mark my words, change is coming, is happening, today, tomorrow and the day after that. The long-suffering citizens of the central and north of the city have made it abundantly clear that they want positive results from their serving police officers. They yearn for the days when they respected the bobby on the beat. The days of ignoring those whom we’ve sworn to serve are finished, I’m afraid. Corrupt practices, where officers could go about topping up their wages at the expense of the force’s reputation stops right here, right now. Having pride in the uniform that we proudly wear out there on the streets of this fine city will be the key driver for me, us, over the coming weeks and months, gentlemen. Of course, there will be challenges for all of us. For some, these changes in practice may be unacceptable. For others, particularly our fine WPC and female DCs, that change couldn’t have come soon enough. But, let there be no misunderstanding. It is my intention to root out and prosecute, at every opportunity, those who have been responsible for dragging this fine police force down into the gutter beside all the other rats, who are currently running for cover or lying languishing in prison cells up in Barlinnie. There will also be changes that may take a little longer to implement. By that, I mean equality of opportunity for all our dedicated female colleagues who, despite the hurdles placed in front of them in the past, will be actively encouraged to apply for promoted posts throughout the ranks.”
It wis that last part ae her statement that hid split everywan present and the whole division wide open. The majority ae the wummin in the room hid spontaneously, efter a stunned silence, aw clapped their hauns enthusiastically at the Queen Ae Sheba, staunin there, a wee smile appearing at the corners ae her Lanny-coloured lips, while lighting up her cigar…aw the wummin that is, apart fae De
tective Sergeant Wilma Thain. Oh, Wilma hid been jist as impressed and delighted wae whit the smooth-talking superintendent hid come oot wae as aw the other wummin in the room. The fact that she’d lit up the cigar below the big no smoking sign behind her, announcing tae everywan that she meant business and that anywan who stood in her way, wis gonnae cop their whack, hid left Wilma wae a dodgy feeling in they guts ae hers. Wis the new super trying tae outdo the men? Did the new queen no realise that fur Wilma and aw the other wummin in the ranks tae dae their job, they wur dependent on the same people that she wis noo castigating? Irrespective ae the welcome change, it wid take a while. Cleopatra hersel hid admitted that it could take a generation, at least. Wilma wondered if the reason fur her hesitation in clapping alang wae the rest ae the wummin in the room wis that she jist didnae trust the super as far as she could throw her? Although she’d never own up tae agreeing wae anything that ever came oot ae that lying mother’s mooth ae hers, her maist memorable classic that Wilma hid dismissed, until witnessing the amateur dramatics in The Marine Courthoose earlier, hid popped up inside that heid ae hers.
“Take it fae me, Wilma, hen. Anywan who looks like a snake, usually is.”
It wis totally aff the wall and horribly typical ae her, gaun by somewan’s looks as tae whether ye trusted them or no.
“Anywan who looks like a snake, usually is,” that maw’s voice ae hers kept repeating like a stuck record, o’er and o’er.
She remembered sitting there, probably in the same altered state as everywan else, mesmerised, bit wondering whit Cleopatra wis up tae. Aye, eradicating corruption should be a priority and making sure aw the wummin in the force hid a fair crack ae the whip, bit there wis still something there that Wilma jist couldnae quite put her finger oan. She wis jist too good tae be true. She’d glanced aboot at the other poliswummin sitting in amongst aw the men, who like her, hid somehow made it tae sergeant or above, despite the odds stacked against them. They’d aw sat looking adoringly at her as if the messiah hersel hid jist arrived oan the scene wae her hair up in a bun, tae lead them aw aff tae the promised land.