by Ian Todd
“Whit? Wis yer original intention jist tae shag her behind me and the weans’ backs then?” she’d snarled through blazing eyes, fighting bit failing tae keep her composure intact.
“Ah’m sorry,” he’d mumbled.
“You’re sorry?” she’d hauf screamed at him, wanting tae throw-up every time she thought ae him lying in somewan else’s bed.
“Look, Ah didnae come here tae make a scene,” he’d retorted, looking aboot tae make sure the unconscious drunk wisnae getting upset by her hysterics.
“Making a scene? You’re the wan that’s making a bloody scene. Taking the piss oot ae me and the weans. Whit’s gonnae happen tae them, eh? Hiv ye thought aboot that?” she’d spat at him.
“Look, Ah’m aff if ye’re gonnae start, so Ah am,” he’d threatened, as her life crumbled in front ae him and she burst oot greeting.
“Ur ye awright, hen?” the wee fat lassie fae behind the coonter, dressed up in her grease-stained yellow Fireball XL5 uniform, hid shouted across, as the ash oan the end ae the fag sticking oot fae between her lips, drapped oot ae sight intae the lidless American cookie jar that hid been sitting oan the counter in front ae her. “Ah’ll gie the polis a shout if ye want me tae?”
“She is the polis, so keep yer nose oot ae where it isnae wanted,” The Adulterer and so-called father ae her weans hid snarled back.
“See whit Ah’ve hid tae put up wae fur years?” Wilma hid asked Miss America, exaggerating the weight ae the heavy-cross sitting oan her shoulders, tae emphasise her point.
“Aye, Ah don’t envy ye at aw, hen,” Miss American Diner 1975 hid replied, folding her erms across that big chest ae hers, glaring at him.
“Look, dae ye want me tae go or whit?” he’d growled at her before turning tae the waitress. “And you? Shut the fuck up and mind yer ain business. Is it no aboot time ye goat oot fae behind that counter and cleaned these tables up, ya clatty basturt, ye? This place is bloody bogging, so it is.”
“Don’t take yer infidelity oot oan her. She’s jist trying tae help, so she is. Mair than Ah kin say aboot anywan else aboot here,” Wilma hid pathetically hit him wae.
“Right, wan mair bit ae cheek fae any ae the pair ae youse and Ah’m offskie,” he’d threatened the pair ae them.
She’d wished he’d jist upped and left when he’d hid the chance. Miss American Diner hid quickly trotted through tae the kitchen at the back in the huff and she’d sat glaring at him, trying her best no tae show he wis getting tae her.
“Right where wis Ah?” he’d hid the cheek tae ask.
“Apparently, ye’re in love wae a twenty-two-year auld,” she’d reminded him. “Whit?” she’d exclaimed innocently, putting oan her best innocent expression, despite murder simmering in her heart, as his face screwed up intae another scowl.
“Look, Ah cannae help it. Okay? It’s jist how Ah feel. It’s nothing tae dae wae age, so it isnae,” he’d soothed, as she’d snorted dismissively. “We ur where we ur and there’s nothing ye kin say tae change that. The baith ae us jist hiv tae get used tae the idea.”
“Whit makes ye think Ah’d want tae change anything? The amount ae guys hitting oan me jist noo is unbelievable, so it is. Ah’ve goat ma pick ae real men, any day ae the week,” she’d lied wae a stupid ‘Dae ye think Ah really care’ dismissive laugh.
“Good,” the basturt hid retorted, no even attempting tae hide his relief. “In fact, the mair the merrier. It means we kin move oan, so it dis.”
“Ye mean, it lets you aff the hook wae that conscience ae yours?”
“Naw, that’s no whit Ah mean. Ah feel bad fur the weans.”
“Bit no me?” she’d snarled, the tears welling up again.
“Look, wid ye stoap putting words and thoughts intae ma heid. Ah telt ye, Ah’ve met somewan else,” he’d repeated, shoving the knife intae her heart again.
“We hid a good life gaun fur us, so we did, Ronnie.”
“When ye wur there.”
“Eh?”
“Ye heard me.”
“So, that’s whit this is aw aboot? Ma bloody work?”
“Ah’ve telt ye, Ah’ve fell in love. Ah’ve found somewan new…somewan who’s aroond maist ae the time.”
“If you tell me wan mair time that ye’ve fell in love wae somewan else, Ronnie Thain, Ah swear tae God, Ah’ll stab ye in the eye wae wan ae they white plastic teaspoons sitting there, so Ah will.”
“See, there ye go, getting aw aggressive, trying tae gie me a showing-up when Ah’m trying tae be adult and civilised aboot this.”
Silence.
“So, whit aboot the weans then?” she finally asked the selfish basturt, between sobs. “Where ur they in aw this?”
“Ah’ll still be there fur them.”
“There? Where’s there? Christ, tae think Ah don’t even know where the hell ma man lives.”
“Look, Ah’ll let ye know…soon. Ah don’t trust you no tae charge roond there shouting the odds and embarrassing me in front ae Chantelle’s neighbours.”
“Chantelle? Ye’re gaun oot wae a Chantelle? Oh ma God!” she’d gasped, covering her mooth wae they hauns ae hers. “So, plain Jane Wilma here isnae good enough noo?”
“Look, Ah’ve awready telt ye…”
“Aye, Ah know, ye’ve found somewan else.”
“This is gaun nowhere. Ah’m aff.”
“No, wait!” she’d cried oot, stoapping him in his tracks fae putting oan his new trendy leather jaicket that wis clearly too young fur him. “Kin we no sort this oot?”
“Whit dae ye think Ah’m trying tae dae?”
“Ah mean wae us?”
“Eh?”
“There’s people…marriage cooncillors, Ah think they’re called… fur couples like us oan the verge ae breaking up. They could help us.”
“Wilma, Wilma, hen, hiv ye no been listening tae anything Ah’ve jist said? It’s too late. Ah’ve moved oan. Ah’ve foun…”
“Somewan else,” she’d finished fur him, her heid reeling, trying tae contain her panic.
“Aye.”
“The weans…”
“The weans will be fine. Ye’re a good mother…even if ye wur a shite wife. Ach, ye know whit Ah mean,” he’d said, attempting tae back-pedal, shrugging they leather clad shoulders ae his, by way ae an apology.
“Ma work…Ah cannae afford tae hiv Sadie looked efter when Morag’s at nursery.”
“Ah thought yer ma wis looking efter Sadie…them?”
“She is, bit ye know whit she’s like. Ah wis accosted by a social worker at ma work the other day there because ae the language Wee Morag is coming oot wae in amongst her wee pals at nursery.”
“So, whit ur ye saying then?”
“Ah’m saying that Ah want tae minimise the time the weans ur aroond that auld dragon ae a maw ae mine.”
“Ach, yer ma’s no that bad. If she could jist tone doon the foul cursing and swearing, she might even be presentable.”
“Look, ye’re gonnae hiv tae help me oot here. Ah cannae dae it aw oan ma lonesome, so Ah cannae.”
“Whit’s that supposed tae mean?”
“It means that oan tap ae yer share ae the mortgage repayments oan the flat in the West End, the wan you convinced me that we could afford, ye’re gonnae hiv tae chip in fur somewan tae look efter Sadie when Morag’s at nursery.”
“Eh…whit? Ur you bloody nuts or whit? Yer ma’s perfectly capable ae daeing that and it won’t cost a penny.”
“Ah need ye tae chip in.”
“Wilma, Ah’ll still pay hauf the mortgage until we sell the flat, bit Ah’m no paying fur somewan tae look efter wan ae the weans when yer ma’s daeing a good enough job fur free. Ah’ll take the weans fur a day every second weekend, so Ah will.”
“Ma weans ur no gaun anywhere near that slut!” she’d snarled, missing the selling ae the flat fae under her and the weans feet bit.
“Look, it’ll gie ye a break when ye’re oan yer shifts.”
“Ah’m warning ye, Ronnie
. Don’t bloody well push me. Ah know people that kin make life a misery fur you…starting wae that uninsured van that ye run aboot in, kidding oan tae everywan that ye’re a time-served sparky.”
“Look, there ye go, back tae being yer abusive self. Nae wonder Ah got oot when Ah did.”
And wae that, the father ae her weans hid upped and left her tae pick up the tab and the shattered pieces ae her life. She might’ve been a wee plump, clatty basturt, bit it wis jist as well Miss American Diner wis a kind-hearted soul, as Wilma hidnae hid any money oan her tae pay fur their drinks. She’d left her purse at hame.
“Portoy’s hid ten minutes wae that client ae his, Inspector,” The Desk Sergeant said, popping his heid roond the door.
“Oh, right,” she acknowledged, nodding, looking doon at Honest John’s murder file beside Peter Paterson’s wan, jist tae make sure that it wis shut o’er, before reaching across and lifting the baith ae them, trying no tae smudge her newly painted fingernails.
She’d sat and worked through her finances the night before. Wae her inspector’s pay rise, she might, at a push, be able tae pay fur somewan tae look efter Sadie while Wee Morag wis at nursery, she wis jist thinking, propelling hersel alang the corridor.
“Inspector? There’s a call fur ye. She said that it’s important. Dae ye want tae take it?” The Desk Sergeant asked, as she passed through the reception towards the interview room where Jean wis hinging aboot ootside, awaiting her arrival.
“Er, who is it?” she asked, hesitating.
“A Pricilla Presley.”
“Er, naw, tell her Ah’ll phone her back.”
“She says that she’s awready phoned a couple ae times and that ye’ve said ye wid phone her back, bit she hisnae heard anything.”
“Look, Ah’m sorry. Tell her Ah’m busy jist noo and Ah’ll get back tae her when Ah kin.”
“Fine.”
“Mr Portoy, ye’ve arrived,” she announced, breezing through the interview door that Jean wis noo haudin open fur her, feeling guilty, as she heard The Desk Sergeant telling Pricilla Presley again that she wis too busy tae come tae the phone and that she’d get back tae her when she could.
Chapter Twenty Two
Johnboy slowly eased himsel up and oot ae the chair, wincing, as a twinge ae pain shot across his left shoulder. He stood wae his eyes screwed shut, biting his bottom lip, waiting fur the pain and the dizziness tae subside.
“The hospital won’t accept medical responsibility should yer health deteriorate wance ye get up aff ae that bed, Mr Taylor,” the wee disappointed-sounding wummin hid pouted disapprovingly, as he signed the self-discharge papers while Tony and Simon stood silently at the bottom ae the bed.
He opened his eyes. The spinning in front ae them hid stoapped. He took a deep breath before putting wan fit in front ae the other and heiding across tae the windae. A beam ae the hidden wintry sun hid managed tae sear through the heavy-laden clouds and wis noo glinting aff the surface ae the rushing water ae the River Kelvin. His eyes focussed oan the wee calm pools oan either side ae the embankment, as the ducks swam roond in circles, quacking loudly at each other. O’er tae his left, he could see the taps ae the buses, wae their shadowy passengers sitting behind the dirty glass, coming and gaun up and doon Great Western Road. Through a gap in the trees, he could jist make oot the wee intense vapour clouds emanating fae people’s mooths as their heid and shoulders bobbed up and doon oan route tae the shoaps or work. The day before, he’d informed Mr Sing, the consultant, that he’d be signing himsel oot ae The Royal first thing the following morning. Despite the doctor’s pleas and dire warning, he’d stuck tae his guns.
“Well, if you can hang on until a member of the administration block staff arrive for you to sign the relevant discharge papers, it would be most appreciated.”
“Whit time wid that be?”
“Probably just after nine.”
“Fine.”
He hidnae been oot and aboot since him and Silent hid been lifted by the polis back in January 1973. The constant thrum ae the city traffic in the distance buzzed aboot his ears. When he mentioned it tae Simon earlier, he claimed he couldnae hear it himsel. A clear sign that he hidnae done any time as a guest ae Her Majesty. He looked at his watch. His wrist wis getting used tae the difference between a watch strap clamped oan it and a hauncuff. He wid’ve been sitting his Advanced Craft Level in Painting and Decorating exam this morning in the paint shoap doon in Dumfries, if events hidnae overtaken him. He remembered being called up tae Fanny Flaw’s office above the gatehoose and coming across Robert The Beast. The basturt’d hid her tied up against the bars ae her office windae and the heating pipe running alang the wall underneath it, while the security screw at the other end ae the corridor hid been sitting picking his nose and reading the fitba section ae The Glesga Echo. The Beast hid torn open the front ae her blouse and snapped her brassiere, the two empty cups hinging doon, exposing her bare chest. The fear and terror that hid been splashed across that face ae hers, alang wae the shock ae coming upon whit wis being played oot in front ae him, hid thrown him aff balance. How else could he explain no getting oot ae the road, when the basturt hid quickly burled roond and plunged a blade intae the tap left haun side ae his chest. Efter that, everything wis jist a blur. He vaguely remembered charging the basturt wae his heid doon efter the blade hid been pulled oot before he’d been plunged again, only this time, intae the tap ae the same shoulder…or wis the sequence ae the stabbing the other way aboot? He couldnae be sure how the blade hid ended up in his back either. Despite whit hid turned oot tae be a punctured lung, they’d ended up rolling aboot oan the deck. The Beast hid been a heavy, fattish basturt, wae the strength tae go wae it. He vaguely remembered pummelling that sweaty pockmarked face wae his fists, while trying tae grab the blade wae his hauns. He looked doon at his plaster-covered fingers. They’d taken the stitches oot a week earlier. They wur in a bit ae a mess, bit the scars wid heal and nowan wid notice them unless he held his hauns up, facing ootwards. The doctor hid said that he’d been lucky that none ae the tendons hid been sliced through. He also vaguely remembered being telt by some pin-stripe suited official fae The Department, up in the ward, efter he’d come oot ae the coma, that his bank conviction hid been overturned by The Appeals Court and that he wis free tae go. He’d also telt him that he wisnae being held responsible fur the death ae Robert Connor, The Beast. He stared at the people through the overhinging branches ae the trees crossing the bridge. He could jist distinguish the difference between males and females. It felt so surreal tae be staunin there, witnessing the ordinary. The same scene wid’ve been repeated every day since he wis lifted. It wis true whit Father Leonard hid said.
“The sequence of the traffic lights at the end of the street won’t stop just because we’re not here, Johnboy,” he’d telt him in that Belfast accent ae his wan day, up in the vestry, when they’d been chewing the cud.
He knew the wee hunchback priest hid been dying fur Johnboy tae come back at him tae expand oan his wee metaphor, bit Johnboy hid known exactly where he wis coming fae, so, he’d held back tae let him stew. He’d been right though. Time stoapped fur nowan. It wis whit people did wae their time while they hid control o’er it that mattered. The traffic lights at the far end ae the bridge wid keep oan blinking no matter whit everywan else in life did. The question he hid tae address, and quickly, wis how he wis gonnae use his time? He couldnae sleep or get comfortable up at The Royal efter Tony insisted that he hid tae sign himsel oot. The shit wis building up tae hit the fan in the toon, so it wis important fur him tae get that arse ae his in gear and across tae the flat at the corner ae Otago Street and Glesga Street. Wan-bob hid banned them fae the toon at nights, which hid been a bit ae a bummer, efter Baby hid been caught trying tae find oot if The McGregors wur oan the go efter Wan-bob and Charlie Hastie goat huckled. Noo things hid started tae change at a pace. Simon hid clocked Seb Grey and Chick Campbell picking up a vanload ae swag fae the back ae wan ae the warehooses in Renfi
eld Lane. He’d followed the transit in his car across the river, where they’d drapped some ae the stuff aff at Govan Cross. He hidnae recognised the pick-up guys at The Cross. Simon hid then ran intae the pair ae them, in the same van in Elliot Street, across in Anderston the following day. They’d been lugging boxes ae fags intae it in broad daylight. Thankfully, he hidnae been spotted. There hid been a lot ae arguments gaun oan amongst the rest ae The Mankys, basically about whit tae dae aboot it. Tony hid made the decision fur them.
“Fuck Wan-bob. It’s his problem, no oors. Let’s keep the fuck oot ae it,” he’d telt everywan.
The speculation as tae why nowan wis hivving a go at the intruders wis easy tae figure oot. The Govan boys they’d clocked wur the same age as The Mankys. The reason The Mankys knew who they wur wis because they’d been in approved schools wae them years earlier. Allowing the younger McGregor crew tae dabble in the toon centre insteid ae the aulder guys, meant the basturts wur operating under the radar. Wan-bob’s bears widnae know who the fuck they wur. Johnboy hid goat oan well enough wae Seb Grey in Thistle Park back in the late sixties, bit he’d hid a run-in wae Chick Campbell when him and Silent hid been oan the run and hid bumped intae him oan Plantation Street, across in Kinning Park, as they wur making their way back intae the toon centre. He wis a big bear even then. Campbell hid been released a few months earlier, Johnboy remembered. Insteid ae helping him and Silent, the basturt hid started noising Silent up, asking Johnboy whit the hell he wis daeing running aboot wae a spastic. At the time, Silent widnae hiv retaliated and Johnboy wisnae up fur hivving a fight wae the basturt oan his ain patch. Simon knew Grey fae Longriggend when he’d been oan remand. Wan-bob hid warned Tony tae keep The Mankys’ noses clean and that’s whit he wis obviously intending tae dae. So, while everywan hid been annoyed at the night-time curfew, they wur aw noo sitting back, watching and waiting tae see whit wid happen next. That hid been the reason that Tony hid telt him that he didnae want him lying oan that back ae his up in The Royal, which hid been fair enough wae Johnboy.