Agnes Owens (6 page)

Not having much to talk about we began to reminisce on the subject of our schooldays. Tolworth confessed that he had detested school.

‘You wereny the only one,' I said.

‘It wis different for you.' I noticed he was relapsing into the vernacular of his race. ‘You didny seem to bother aboot beatin' ups.' Then he gave my face a long look. ‘I see you still don't bother.'

‘I bothered the same as everybody else,' I said. ‘Ye jist had tae put on a front.'

‘Aye, but ye didny have to put on your faither's auld shirts that made you a handy target.' His voice was bitter.

‘That's true,' I admitted. I never had a father so I had better fitted shirts from the welfare.

‘By the way,' I said, ‘there wis one thing that puzzled me aboot you.'

‘What?'

‘Well, mind how we used tae come whoopin' an' shoutin' oot o' the class at playtime?'

‘Aye.'

‘It wisny as if I wis spyin' on ye, but it began tae dawn on me that efter ye came whoopin' an' shoutin' the same as everybody else, ye disappeared intae thin air. One day I wanted tae ask ye for the len' o' yer sandshoes for drill but I couldny find ye anywhere.'

Tolworth looked at the glass of whisky in his hand sadly. I could sense there was a big confession coming.

‘I widny tell anyone else but you,' he hesitated, then continued. ‘As you know I've always been very allergic to pain, on account of gettin' battered from ma auld man when he was drunk. Ma bones were always that sore that I couldny stand any shovin' or punchin', and nobody wid play wi' me anyway. So I used to run straight oot and wait inside the toilet till the bell rang.'

I looked at him with genuine compassion. Imagine standing for fifteen good playtime minutes in the toilet, waiting for the bell to ring to get back to the torture. I put my hand on his shoulder as a measure of my sympathy. ‘Ye've had a terrible life,' I said when he ordered another two glasses. He began to unburden himself even further.

‘Do you know, many's a time I was standing at the school gate at seven in the morning.'

I was aghast. ‘I always thought ye were brainy but I didny think ye were that keen on school.'

‘It wisny that,' he said with such an air of tragedy that I was dreading what he was going to say. ‘You see, ma auld man
sometimes sat up a' night drinkin'. He hudny a clue whit the time was. He would stagger through to ma room to get me up for school and if I didny get up he would pull the blankets aff and pour cauld water over me. It wis better to wait at the gates, even in the winter, than argue wi' him.'

I felt a lump in my throat. Tolworth blew his nose on a spotless white handkerchief, saying in a matter-of-fact way, ‘Oh well, that's the way the cookie crumbles.'

At this point I ordered two whiskies, being the decent thing to do in the circumstances. After that everything became fuzzy. Whatever we discussed or how I got home I don't know, but the next apparent event was my mother shaking me hard and bawling in my ear, ‘There's a fella wantin' tae speak tae ye.'

I sat up, surprised to see I was in bed. I tried to pull myself together.

‘Whit's the time. Is it Sunday?'

‘It's half-past four, and it's still Saturday.'

Thankfully I lay back. The evening was still ahead of me untouched.

‘D'ye hear whit I'm sayin'? There's a fella wantin' tae speak tae ye. Strikes me as bein' one o' these queers.'

My mother had queers on the brain due to a recent television play. Even I was under suspicion.

I said, ‘Tell him tae beat it.'

‘Tell him yersel. He's waitin' in the living room.'

In a stinking mood I stumbled out of bed. It was Tolworth awaiting. There wasn't much resemblance to the neatly dressed fellow I had first met. There were more creases in his suit than a concertina. His shirt hung outside his trousers and there was no sign of a tie. He clutched me by the vest and said in a sickening whine, ‘You'll have to help me. There's a mob after me. I don't know what to do.'

My mother viewed the scene with arms folded and nodding her head as if her worst expectations had been confirmed. ‘Who's this then?' she challenged.

I explained that he was Tolworth McGee alias Toly. Surprise and recognition softened her. She asked, ‘How're ye keepin' and how's yer mither an' faither?'

In between the snivelling Toly replied, ‘Fine,' then returned to the snivelling. My mother became bored with the lack of information and said, ‘I'll pit on the tea.'

‘For God's sake, pull yersel the gither,' I said when she had gone into the kitchenette. ‘Whit happened?'

‘I don't know whit happened. After you left I think somebody picked an argument wi' me. I threw a glass o' beer in his face. The next thing I was ootside and a gang was chasin' me. I managed to get away.' He added with a touch of pride, ‘I wis always good at runnin'.'

‘Whit dae ye want me tae dae?' I asked.

‘Can you no' help me?'

‘Listen chum, I'm no' gaun tae spoil a good Saturday protectin' you.'

My mother entered with two cups of tea and a plate of banana sandwiches.

‘Ye've excelled yersel,' I said looking darkly at the meal.

Ignoring the comment she addressed Toly, ‘Mind an' tell yer folks I wis askin' for them.'

‘Sure, I can hardly wait,' he mumbled, drawing the cup shakily up to his mouth.

The tea must have revived Toly a bit for he said, ‘If only I could get to the railway station I would be OK but these guys might be waitin' for me.'

‘I'll tell ye whit,' I said with inspiration, ‘we'll wrap yer haund in bandages then we'll put yer arm in a sling. Nobody will touch ye then, an' I'll take ye tae the station.'

Toly was doubtful, but I had the feeling if I didn't get him out of the house right now he would stay forever, like a refugee in hiding, and my mother would be glad to keep him as company for her old age.

My mother was annoyed at the sight of one of her sheets being torn up for bandages, but as she must have felt sorry for Toly she assisted in making him appear a pathetic casualty. She waved a cheerful hand out the window as I prodded him along the road. Sure enough, further on the way, two of the Hoodlum Gang were leaning against the fence. I gripped Toly's arm hard to keep him from running away.

‘Whit a horrible sight,' sneered one of the gang.

‘Look,' I explained, ‘he's already had a doin' an' broke his wrist. So there's nae need tae gie him anither one.'

‘That's right,' said Toly with a ghastly ingratiating grin. With wooden faces they stared at him. One stabbed a knife into the fence. Toly gasped. Hurriedly we moved on. When I looked back the knife was still being stabbed. But anyway we reached the station and I left Toly on the platform, ignoring his plea to wait with him. I had done my duty and the Paxton Arms would be open. I was in the pub for only half an hour when my mother marched right up to the bar beside me. I was surprised. She wouldn't enter a lounge let alone a public bar. She explained, with a face like flintstone, that Toly was back in the house with a genuine broken wrist waiting on the ambulance.

Sure enough, when we got back Toly was lying on the couch at the end of a trail of bandages beginning from the outside door, and bellowing like a bull.

‘Whit's happened noo?' I asked, tempted to damage him further.

He stopped his noise long enough to tell me that the two Hoodlums had followed him to the station. ‘I showed them my wrist, telling them it was broken.'

‘We already telt them that,' I said with irritation, adding, ‘so, whit did they dae?'

Toly sobbed. ‘They must be monsters. They kicked it six times.'

He carried on sobbing until the ambulance came.

*  *  *

During the next few days my mother visited him in hospital, taking in grapes and bananas. Then she told me she was thinking of giving him a holiday when he came out because the McGees had been awful nice folk. She asked me if I would mind giving Toly my bed and I could sleep on the couch, assuring me it was quite comfortable. This morning they let Toly out and I was waiting at the hospital gates in a taxi. I reminded him that the Hoodlum Gang never forget, so in order to make a quick getaway before they got on his trail again he could take the taxi to the railway station. He was very grateful, and we parted the best of mates.

I
could scarcely believe my eyes when I came home early the other day from work to see Proctor Mallion drinking tea with my mother. His round, shiny face was unusually benign, though tinged with embarrassment, when he said to me, ‘Hullo son.' My mother glared at me as she said, ‘You're hame early.'

I shook my wet tammy over the table. ‘I got rained aff,' I said, and snapped, ‘Hurry up wi' the dinner.'

I turned on the telly and sat with my eyes glued to Bugs Bunny in order to avoid looking at Proctor. Drunk, he was a psycho case, sober he appeared a smarmy greaseball. He finished his tea off with a noisy slosh, ‘I'm jist away.'

‘Aye, ye'd better hurry. The pubs have been open for a full five minutes,' I shouted after him.

The sausages and mash were dumped with a bang before me.

‘When's the wedding?' I asked.

‘Don't be so bloody sarcastic. Just because I gave the man a drap o' tea ye needny try tae make something o' it.'

‘I don't want tae see that man in this hoose,' I said.

‘So, it's your hoose now.'

I tried being reasonable. ‘Look, that man's a nut case. He'll come back here when he's drunk an' smash the place.'

‘As far as I'm concerned it's a case of the pot calling the kettle black,' said my mother coldly.

I could see it was useless. ‘I'm away tae bed for a rest.'

‘Aye, only till the pub gets busy.'

*  *  *

Later on I ran into Paddy McDonald in the Paxton, quite sober. I told him about Proctor Mallion drinking tea with my mother.

‘Tea?' he echoed.

‘That's beside the point. I got the impression he was courtin' the auld wife.'

Paddy shook his head. ‘Never,' he said. Paddy is very courteous as far as women are concerned. I don't think he ever had much to do with them. He told me, ‘Yon's a bad one, and no' the type any woman should take up wi'. His first wife ran away wi' the insurance man and his second wife left him efter he pushed her oot the windae. Lucky for her it wis on the ground floor.'

‘The worst o' it is,' I continued, ‘I canny lay a finger on him or she'll turn against me.'

‘D'ye want me tae lay into him?' asked Paddy.

If Paddy had been a hard man there were not many signs left. Years of steady drinking had worn him away nearly to skin and bone.

‘Thanks Paddy, but better leave it.'

‘You could always slip Pally McComb a fiver tae dae him. Pally's a good hatchetman,' said Paddy.

‘I widny waste ma money on Pally. Proctor would floor him wi' a glare. It's no' Willie Morrison ye're dealing wi'. Naw,' I added thoughtfully, ‘it's got tae be something subtle.'

‘Look,' said Paddy, ‘there's Proctor comin' in.'

I looked to see him staggering up to the bar, staring with unfocused eyes around him, likely looking for someone to latch on to. He zig-zagged towards us, then crashed into a chair. Flossie, the barman, emerged from his hideaway and glared at Proctor with hands on hips. Ineffectually he had barred Proctor on a number of occasions, but Proctor either ignored or never remembered them. Flossie, a peace lover at heart, usually forgot he had barred Proctor until he got the current bouncer to throw him out again. Bouncers in the Paxton Arms ran the same hazards as deputy sheriffs so it was never the same guy twice that dealt with Proctor. I
could see that Flossie was trying to make his mind up whether to call on the latest bouncer who was happily playing darts, impervious to the disturbance. I was trying to make my mind up whether to leave. Proctor was slowed up by the chair, but he headed towards us with drunken determination. Then he did some intricate steps as one foot tripped over the other and fell flat on his face. Flossie's mind was made up, ‘Benny!' he shrieked in the direction of the dartboard, ‘Get this pest out.'

Benny threw a dart wildly at the board and approached Proctor.

He hauled him up to a standing position, gave him a kick on the legs, then threw him backwards through the swinging door.

‘To think,' I said despairingly to Paddy, ‘that's the auld wife's fancy man. Maybe my future stepfaither.'

‘Ran into yer boyfriend,' I informed my mother when I returned home at the early hour of nine o'clock.

‘Who's that then?' she asked, keeping her eyes on the telly.

‘That lovable bundle of fun, Proctor Mallion.'

‘Ye've got a nasty tongue on ye.'

‘It's nothin' compared tae yer boyfriend's. When I last seen him he wis gettin' flung through the doors o' the Paxton. Still, he might take a look in later, provided he husny got picked up wi' the police.'

Her answer was to turn up the telly very loud. ‘Get the tea on!' I commanded, thoroughly incensed by everything.

‘Get it on yersel! Ye're big an' ugly enough.'

I regarded her with distaste. With her frizzy hair and torn tights Proctor might be the best she could get. I supposed it wasn't much of a life watching the telly and the occasional bit of gossip for entertainment. Pity moved me into the kitchenette wherein I prepared a pot of tea and some slices of toast. She wasn't impressed when I handed her my offering.

‘Wonders will never cease,' she uttered, pointedly breaking off a black bit crust.

I tried again, ‘Whit's for tomorrow's pieces, an' I'll make them masel. It'll save ye gettin' up in the mornin'.'