Parly Road: The Glasgow Chronicles 1 (18 page)

  “Aye,” the rest ae them murmured enthusiastically, sounding as if they couldnae wait tae be invited tae their ain funerals.

  “Naw, ye’ve picked us up wrang,
ya bampots. We want tae sell the cabin tae youse.”

  “Us?” they aw chorused at wance.

  “Youse,” confirmed Scarface and Funny Brother in unison.

  Silence.

  “Well, say something?  And remember whit Ah said, the price in non-negotiable.”

  “How much?” Tony asked, looking the place up and doon…this time, keener than before.

  “It’s a steal at fifty quid.”

  “Fifty quid?” the boys aw yelped in unison.

  “How much is fifty quid?” Skull asked oot loud.

  “Ah think ma da makes aboot thirteen or fourteen quid a week,” Johnboy volunteered.

  “Nothing tae a wee bunch ae thieving shitehooses like youse,” Shaun cooed, a big wolf’s grin appearing oan that scarred coupon ae his.

  “We’ve only goat two quid odd in the kitty so far.”

  “See, youse ur saving awready. That shows ye know the value ae money.”

  “Forty quid…plus,” Tony said, speaking tae Shaun.

  “Ah telt youse, nae negotiating,” Danny The Prick scowled, no laughing noo.

  “Plus whit?” the greedy basturt asked, ignoring his baby brother.

  “Ye throw in a pair ae hens and a pair ae doos each and we get tae pick wan ae the hens and wan ae the doos oorselves. Plus...”

  “See youse, ya wee fucking crumbs? Ah’ve a good mind tae sling youse aw oot ae that fucking door…heid first,” snarled Happy Jack, glowering
at them.

  “Haud yer wheesht, Danny! Let the wee Tally wan finish.”

  “Plus, we get access tae a horse and cart aff ae Horsey John oan the hoose.”

  Johnboy held his breath. They’d gone back tae being able tae hear a pin drap, or should that be, tae hearing doos shiting aff ae their wee crops. The brothers looked at the boys and this time, the boys looked straight back. Johnboy could tell Funny Brother wanted tae kick their arses and be done wae it.

  “Ye kin hiv wan doo and wan hen each ae yer choice fae the bottom row ae nesting boxes there,” he said, nodding towards the cages as aw their heids swung roond tae hiv a wee shifty.  “The wans above them ur no included. Ye kin get a horse and cart fae Horsey John oan a Monday or a Tuesday, bit ye’ll pay the full whack ae ten bob fur the day. And the price fur the cabin is forty five quid.”

  “We’ll settle fur jist the wan doo and a hen and we’ll pay five bob a day fur a horse and cart oan the Monday or Tuesday till we pay aff the cabin and it’s still forty quid…and we won’t help youse tae shift either,” Tony added, putting oan his friendliest ae smiles, as Johnboy, Skull and Joe still continued tae haud their breaths.

  They could tell that Danny Boy wis still no biting.  He wis watching Shaun, jist as the boys wur. It wis a battle ae minds…good o’er evil. At first, the boys thought that they wur hearing things.

  “It’s a deal, bit ye’ve only goat four weeks tae pay aff the forty quid at a tenner a week.”

  “We’ll pay a score at two weekly intervals. That’s aw we’ll need tae get oor hauns oan that kind ae dosh,” Tony bragged.

  “If youse miss wan payment, we’ll revert tae a weekly payment plan and ye get hit wae the multiple standard interest rate,” Shaun, their new pal, advised.

  “It’s a deal,” Tony said.

  “Aw, fur fuck’s sake, Shaun!” the laughing twin wailed, no laughing noo.

  The boys didnae gie a right tit’s fuck. They crowded roond Tony, slapping his back while staunin o’er the cages looking at the startled hens and doos.

  “You pick whit we want, Skull,” Tony said tae him, the presence ae the Murphy’s furgoatten aboot in aw the excitement.

Chapter Twenty

  “Right, girls and boys,” Sally Sally shouted fae the kitchen.

  JP and Crisscross let the lassies pass through the living room door first, before following them through tae the kitchen. Wae Crisscross, it wis politeness, bit wae JP, it meant that he could get a good swatch ae they unspoilt Christian arses in they tight uniforms ae theirs.

  “My word, Sally, whit a fine spread ye’ve put oan, hen. Ah hope this isnae jist fur me?” JP said, drooling fae they whiskery chops ae his.

  “It’s aw thanks tae you and the good Lord, bless his soul, that we’ve goat a fine spread ae meat oan oor plates the night, Daddy,” beamed the probationary lieutenant. “Girls, you sit o’er, in at the back against the wall and Crisscross, Daddy and me will sit oan this side. Ah’ll hiv the chair nearest tae the cooker and sink.”

  “You’ll say the grace, Crisscross?” asked Anita, as Morna, Kathy, Sally and JP bowed their heids and shut their eyes.

  “Bless us, oh Lord, fur these thy gifts that we’re aboot tae receive, especially the lovely wee bit ae brisket and aw the other piles ae meat in oor fridge that ye graciously brought tae oor poor wee hoose and table via brother JP. We thank ye because we know that there ur hunners ae poor wee starving weans oot there in Africa that hivnae even seen a coo, let alone hiv a whiff ae whit we’re aboot tae eat, enjoy and receive. Amen.”

  “Amen,” they aw cried.

  “So, tell me, girls, how ur ye getting oan wae yer latest drive?” JP asked them, though he wis looking across at Anita, who gied him a hard-on when he heard the russle ae that black skirt ae hers and the flutter ae that purple ribbon tied tae her bonnet everytime she spoke tae him oan the street when he wis oot daeing the roonds ae his constituents.

  “Och, fine.  We’ve been out every night for the past four weeks visiting all the bonny wee pubs up and down Parly Road and Cathedral Street,” replied Morna.

  “Och, aye, my feet are killing me, but it’s for a worthwhile cause and my feet are not as sore as the sweet Lord Jesus’s were,” chirruped Kathy, who couldnae wait tae get tae heaven tae tell everywan how good she wis.

  “And everyone has been so generous, even the horrible smelly drunk ones who keep insisting I give them a kiss before they’ll slip something into that wee tight slot o mine,” Anita said, as JP jist aboot choked oan the burnt crust ae his roast tottie.

  “Aye, I chust can’t believe the amount of little bairns that are hanging aboot playing outside the pubs late at night though,” said Kathy.  “I mean, you would think they’d be at home, all bathed, in their pyjamas and put into their beds before the pubs come out.”

  “Aye, it’s a shame…they jist spoil it fur everywan,” Sally agreed, stuffing hauf a roast tottie and a thick wedge ae brisket dipped in gravy intae that cherub face ae hers.

  “Kin ye no dae anything aboot it, Crisscross?” JP asked, taking the opportunity tae impress Anita oan how influencial he could be.

  “Aye, well, it’s no as easy as it may seem. Maist ae these wee tinkers know their rights and if they don’t, their maws certainly will.”

  “There was a wee ugly crater of a bairn with a Celtic hat on his head, wearing what looked like an old ripped rugby shirt. If it wasn’t for Sally here, he would have been away with my satchel o War Crys,” Morna cried oot, obviously still traumatised by the incident.

  “Yes, when I grabbed him by the scruff, he claimed he only wanted to sell them over at Parkhead on Saturday at the game and it was his intention to bring back the ones he hadn’t sold, along with the money, would you believe?”

  “Aye, that wid be Skull.  A right wee sticky-fingered wan, that wan,” chipped in Crisscross. “He’s always wearing that Celtic tammy and his da’s auld Jags jersey.”

  “Jags?”

  “Partick Thistle.  His auld man used tae play fur Partick Thistle back in the fifties jist before Jimmy McGrory ae Celtic wis aboot tae sign him up.”

  “Ach, his best days wur well behind him,” JP snorted.

  “So, what became of him?” Morna asked.

  “He wis a lippy wee sweetie, jist like that boy ae his.  He ended up getting intae a fight wae somewan bigger than himsel and came oot ae it second best,” JP scowled.

  “Aye, he ended up wae severe brain damage and never kicked a baw again,” Crisscross agreed. “Aw self-inflicted due tae that big mooth ae his, of course.” 

  “Aw Ah kin say, girls, is that the work ye’re daeing fur aw they wee African weans will no go un-noticed,” piped in JP, changing the subject as he smacked his chops loudly.

  “Och, we’re not doing it to get noticed, JP. We’re doing it because we care and it’s the Lord’s work,” Anita said, fluttering they sexy Christian eye-lids at him as he tried unsuccessfully tae catch the dribble ae gravy that ran aff ae that chin ae his and oan tae his good masonic club tie.

  “So, whit hiv youse lovely ladies goat coming up?” asked JP, dragging his eyes away fae the saucy Madonna sitting opposite him. “Crisscross said youse ur thinking ae daeing a wee live concert up in Grafton Square soon. Is that right?”

  “Aye, we’re gonnae get the band up oan tae the square tae entertain aw the new folk that hiv jist moved in recently,” Sally replied through a moothful ae cabbage.

  “Och, I heard there’s very few of them speak English like us,” Kathy chipped in.

  “Aye, the majority ur Pakis who wur chipped oot ae somewhere in East Africa. At least that’s whit Ah wis telt,” JP informed them.

  “When I spoke to Sherbet, he told me they were Asian,” Morna volunteered.

  “What’s the difference?” asked Anita.

  “Och, of that, I’m not sure,” Morna admitted.

  “Bit, at least they’ve been tae Africa.  Kin ye imagine?  Anyway, Ah’ve spoken tae Captain Bellow and he thinks it’s a great idea. We might even get some ae the new wummin folk tae join oor wee congregation and maybe even sell some ae oor War Crys amongst their neighbours or even roond the pubs, wance we’ve goat tae know them a bit better,” Sally enthused.

  “Ah think that’s a stoating idea.  Whit dae ye think yersel, Crisscross?” JP asked his son-in-law.

  “Ah’m no sure that they’re Christian, JP, although it widnae dae any harm tae introduce a wee bit ae the auld Christian soldier songs intae their lives.”

  “Well, gie me a shout if ye need anything, ladies. Ah’m always there fur youse,” JP said, as aw the lassies beamed at him. “And if that’s a spare cheeky wee roast tottie gaun a-begging that Ah kin spot fae here, Ah kin always be persuaded tae gie it a good hame.”

Chapter Twenty One

  “How ur we gonnae work it then?” Joe asked Tony, as the four ae them hung aboot, across the road fae Sherbet’s.

  They’d been staunin ootside the shoap until Sherbet hid appeared wae his baseball bat and telt them tae fuck aff.

  “Whit? Getting intae Sherbet’s?”

  “Naw, getting oor hauns oan some trannys.”

  “We nip roond tae St James’s Road, grab a hudgie and heid aff. Remember…keep yer eyes
peeled
fur electrical shoaps that hiv cameras in the windaes. Where there’s cameras, ye’ll find trannys. Skull, you go wae Joe and Ah’ll take Johnboy,” Tony said.

  “So, when will we meet up then?” Skull asked, bending doon tae gie Elvis a wee clap oan his heid efter he arrived
oan the scene wae his tail wagging.

  “We’ll see each other the morra at Horsey John’s aboot wan o’clock.”

  “Okay, that sounds awright tae me,” said Joe.

  “Noo, remember, it’s trannys we’re efter. Don’t come back wae any other shite…hiv ye goat that, Skull?”

  “Well, it’s nae use us trying tae get a hudgie fae the same spot. We’ll heid up tae Glebe Street and try and nab a lift up there fae wan ae the Taylor lorries,” Joe said, using the flat sole ae his sandshoe tae gie Skull a wee push face first oan tae the pavement, as everywan bit Skull laughed.

  “Joe,
ya
prick, ye…that wisnae funny,” wailed Skull.

  “Aye it wis.”

  “Okay, we’ll heid roond tae the lights. Who’s goat the two bob fur the bus fares?” Tony asked them.

  “Ah hiv,” said Joe, flicking it up and catching it.

  “Heids,” Skull shouted, jumping up.

  “Tails, ya prick,” Joe retorted, laughing, as he flashed the coin at Skull before the pair ae them walked aff up McAslin Street, argueing o’er whether Jock Stein wis the best thing since slice breid or no.

  “See youse the morra,” Skull shouted, turning roond and waving, as him and Joe passed Rattray’s bike shoap.

  Johnboy and Tony turned left oan tae St James Road, passed the wee tobacconist’s oan their left and heided towards the traffic lights oan the corner.

  “Noo, remember, Johnboy…jist follow me. The only thing ye hiv tae remember is...if ye hiv tae jump aff when he’s moving, wait until ye hear him changing gear...preferably when he’s changing doon.”

  “How will Ah know that?”

  “Ye jist will, and anyway, Ah’ll be daeing everything first, so jist follow whit Ah dae and ye’ll pick it up.”

  Efter aboot five minutes, they spotted their taxi coming up o’er the hill oan Dobbies Loan. They’d crossed Parly Road so they could staun oan the other side fae where Paul hid been staunin oan the night that they’d tanned the tobacconist’s.

  “That’s ma granny and granda’s hoose up there, jist tae the left ae The Grafton picture hoose,” Johnboy said.

  “Which wan?”

  “The second windae up...the wan wae the lace curtains and the lights oan.”

  It wis then that they heard the sound they wur waiting fur.

  “Furget it, if it disnae hiv a load oan the back, Johnboy. Whit we’re wanting is a load, covered in canvas that’s tied doon wae ropes.”

  The lorry crunched o’er the hill and edged tae a stoap at the lights, wae the usual screech and hiss ae the brakes as the driver drapped gears.

  “Right, here we go.  We’ll make oot we’re jist crossing tae the other side ae the street by gaun roond the back,” Tony said, sounding like a teacher.

  When they stepped aff the pavement, Tony jumped up oan tae the back wae wan leap. There wis a square bit at the back that Johnboy used as a step. By the time Johnboy climbed up, Tony hid lain
back as if he wis sitting oan a couch. The load stretched up tae
aboot ten feet above their heids
and wis tied doon by ropes. The canvas stoapped aboot four feet fae the back ae the lorry so it wis like sitting oan a wee shelf, protected fae the wind. When they took aff alang St James’s Road, heiding fur Stirling Road, a wee Morris Minor turned in behind them, oot ae Ronald Street. The man, who wis driving, jist smiled and the wummin passenger gied them a wee wave.  When Johnboy and Tony waved back, she said something tae the man and they baith laughed. Efter passing Collins, the book publishers’ oan the right, the car turned left and disappeared up Taylor Street.

  “Mind and keep yer eyes peeled fur shoaps,” Tony shouted above the roar.

  As they neared Castle Street, Johnboy felt the gears drapping doon as Tony and him bounced back and forward wae the load at their backs.

  “He’s coming up tae the traffic lights and is probably heiding up Alexandra Parade,” Tony yelled.

  Jist as they wur crawling slowly towards the traffic lights, they crept past a Taylor’s lorry oan their right haun side before coming tae a stoap. There, sitting as if they wur oan a couch as well, wis their manky pals.

  “Hellorerr, ya pair ae arse-bandits, ye,” Skull shouted across wae a big grin oan his coupon.

  “Fuck, that didnae take ye long.  Dae ye know where ye’re gaun?”

  “Aye, tae blag some trannys, ye daft tit,” Skull shouted, still wearing his usual grin, alang wae his Celtic hat, filthy red and yellow hooped Jags jersey and his two-sizes-too-big fitba boots.

  “Skull, shut the fuck up, ya fud-pad, ye.”

  “Ah think it’s Alexandra Parade,” Joe shouted o’er the noise ae the engines revving up.

  Baith lorries took aff at the same time. Joe and Skull heided left intae Castle Street towards the turn aff fur Alexandra Parade and Johnboy and Tony’s lorry turned right, past The Royal, heiding doon intae the High Street. The last Johnboy and Tony saw ae Joe and Skull that night wis Skull staunin up wae his back tae them, bent o’er wae his troosers at his ankles, wiggling his bare arse at them, as they disappeared oot ae sight. It wis anywan’s guess as tae whit the people in the three cars crawling behind them thought.

  “Right, ye take the left haun side and Ah’ll take the right side, Johnboy. If ye see anything, gie’s a shout and we’ll nip aff at the next set ae traffic lights.”

  “Aye, okay,” Johnboy shouted as the shoaps started tae appear.

  The lorry wis heiding fur Glesga Cross.

  “Is that wan?” Johnboy shouted, pointing.

  “Naw, that’s a Hoover shoap,” Tony shouted back, as the lorry slowed tae a halt at the traffic lights at Duke Street.

  “This is brilliant, so it is.”

  “Aye, don’t worry…it gets better,” Tony shouted as the engine revved up and they took aff again.

  The next stoap wis the traffic lights at the bottom ae the High Street, jist before Glesga Cross.

  “He’ll either turn left intae the Gallowgate and then right oan tae London Road, which means he’s heiding fur England, or he’ll go straight oan through the Saltmarket and o’er The Clyde, heiding fur God’s knows where.”

  They heided straight oan through the lights, heiding fur the bridge tae take them o’er The Clyde.

  “We need tae watch oot here, Johnboy. Lie flat, so we’re no seen. The Central polis office is jist doon here oan oor right,” Tony shouted.

  Jist then, they went past a shoap oan Johnboy’s left that wis lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “Is that wan?” Johnboy pointed.

  “Fucking pure dead brilliant!  We’ll get aff at the traffic lights if he stoaps at the Albert Bridge.

  The lorry went straight through oan the green and stoapped at the traffic lights oan Crown Street.

  “Right, here we go, Johnboy!”

  As they walked back across the bridge, they stoapped in the middle ae it and Tony pointed
oot aw the sights. Tae their left, further alang the water stood the Victoria Bridge wae the Broomielaw and the cranes ae the shipbuilders beyond.

  “If ye wur tae hop and skip fae bridge tae bridge
ye’d come tae the bridge that the trains use tae go intae Central Station. Oan the left, behind us, where we’ve jist come aff the lorry, is the Gorbals...a right shite-hole ae a place. Ah know a lot ae boys fae there. The Grove is full ae them. They’d steal the eyes oot ae yer heid, that lot.”

  “Whit’s that place o’er there?” Johnboy asked, pointing across tae the right, in the direction they wur walking.

  “That’s Glesga Green. If ye want yer baws booted rapidly and yer good five-o-wans ripped aff yer arse, that’s where tae go during the day. It’s always hoaching wae thieving pricks like us fae the Gorbals, or even worse, aw they Proddy basturts fae Bridgeton Cross. If ye fancy getting a dirty auld pervert’s finger stuffed up yer bum while his other haun’s o’er yer mooth tae keep the noise doon fae disturbing his pals in the next bush, then it’s the best place tae go tae in Glesga oan a dark night like noo,” Tony laughed.

  “Seriously?”

  “Well, if ye don’t believe me, oan ye go then,” he laughed again, trying tae push Johnboy aff the pavement in the direction ae the park.

  “Look, there’s somewan walking through noo,” Johnboy said, nodding, efter they’d nipped across the road tae peer through the railings.

  “Aye, typical pervo,” Tony said as if he knew whit he wis talking aboot. “Ah heard that this pervo wance tried tae ride two young boys oor age, years ago and when they fought him aff, he fell and bumped his heid and croaked it. Dae ye know whit happened tae them? They hanged the auldest wan.”

  “Fur Christ sakes! Whit happened tae the other wan?”

  “Ah don’t know. Ah think they sent him doon tae Englandshire somewhere.”

  They skipped across the road and came tae a big building wae massive big pillars alang the front ae it.

  “This is the High Court. If ye murder anywan, this is where ye come tae get sentenced tae hang.”

  “Whit, they hing ye in there?” Johnboy asked, looking up at the big broon doors.

  “Ah’m no sure aboot that. Aw Ah know is, this is where ye end up, either tae get hung or tae be telt ye’re gonnae get strung up.”

“Dae ye know anywan that’s been hung?”

“Naw.”

  “If it wis me, Ah’d jump tae the side when they opened the trap door and run like the clappers or Ah’d dae whit Hopalong Cassidy did and get a wee hook put oan ma belt at the back ae ma troosers and wrap the rope roond the hook before it went roond ma neck and then Ah’d kid oan Ah wis croaked.”

  “Aye, that wid teach the basturts, eh?” Tony laughed.

  “The shoap must jist be up here oan the left,” Johnboy said, stepping aff the pavement oan tae the road tae look farther up the street.

  “Johnboy, look at this building. Dae ye know whit this place is?”

  Oan the right ae the High Court wis a wee red brick building wae its windaes aw covered up oan the inside wae white paint.

  “Naw, whit is it?”

  “Hiv a guess.”

  “A bizzy office?”

  “Naw, it’s the mortuary.”

  “Whit’s a mortuary?”

  “It’s where ye go when they find ye croaked in the street or murdered.”

  “It disnae look that big.”

  “It’s big enough tae take aw the stiffs. Ma uncle Luigi worked here as a porter and he said that they come in at aw times ae the day and night.”

  “So, whit dae they dae wae the bodies then?”

  “Store them till they get collected.”

  “This place gies me the creeps.”

  “Aye, let’s shoot the craw
up tae the shoap,” Tony agreed, as they baith quickened their pace.

  It wis jist as Johnboy’d first thought when he’d clocked it fae the back ae the wagon…lit up like a Christmas tree, it wis. In the windae, there wis aw sorts ae cameras and whit they wur efter...trannys.  The only problem wis that there wis a big metal grill covering the whole windae, apart fae a gap ae aboot eight inches at the tap where the grill stoapped short ae the frame.

  “Kin ye remember the name ae the trannys that The Big Man said he wanted?”

  “Something aboot a world spacer.”

  “Naw, it’s a Globepacer. See if ye kin see wan.”

  They looked at aw the trannys bit couldnae make oot a Globepacer. There wis Mello Tone Tempests, Realtone Constellations, Highwave Star Lites, Hi-Fi Deluxes...and then Johnboy clocked it.

  “Ya beauty, ye.  There’s a Grand Prix GP nine-o-wan,” he said, pointing hauf way up the grill oan the right.

  “So?”

  “That’s wan ae the special trannys that The Big Man’s efter.”

  “There’s a wee strip stuck oan the front that says Grand Prix Transistor nine oan it. Ur ye sure that’s it?” Tony asked, peering through the grill.

  “Ah’m nearly sure...and anyway, we kin jist haun it o’er and make oot that it is and see whit reaction we get.”

  “Aye, awright. That sounds fine tae me.”

  “Is this shoap nae use then?” asked Johnboy.

  “Whit dae ye mean?”

  “Ah mean, dae we need tae look fur another wan withoot a grill oan it?”

  “Dae we heck.  This is perfect,” Tony said, staunin back, ignoring the traffic gaun up and doon the Saltmarket, as he scanned the front ae the shoap.