Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 (20 page)

  “So, who did ye say assaulted ye, PC?”

  “Ah don’t know.”

  “So, ye never saw who assaulted yersel, bit ye managed tae see who assaulted Thompson?”

  “Sergeant Thompson…aye.”

  “So, how come ye never saw who assaulted yersel?”

  “Because it happened so fast.  Ah wis that blinded, it took me a while tae get ma eyes focussed and when Ah did, whoever hid done it wis offskie.”

  “And that’s when ye conveniently saw me assaulting Thompson?”

  “Sergeant Thompson…aye.”

  “When ye arrived oan the scene, wis there a riot gaun oan?”

  “Aye.”

  “And did ye run across tae it, swinging yer baton like a man possessed?”

  “Eh?”

  “Did ye run across the road, swinging yer baton aboot?”

  “Who, me?”

  “When did ye first draw yer baton?”

  “When The Sarge shouted tae us tae defend oorselves efter a few ae the boys hid drapped like flies.”

   “If Ah telt ye Ah wis staunin getting ma picture taken wae the other peaceful protesters when we wur attacked by the polis welding truncheons, whit wid ye say?

  “Ah’d say ye wur lying through they false teeth ae yers.”

“Is that it, Miss Metcalfe?” JP asked, butting in and looking a bit uncomfortable.

  “It is, yer honour,” the procurator said, jumping back up oan tae her feet.  “Ye kin step doon fae the witness stand, PC Cross.”

  “Bit…” Helen interjected.

  “It seems clear tae me and everywan else in this courtroom that Taylor assaulted Sergeant Thompson, withoot a shadow ae a doubt.  Mrs Taylor, who wis clearly the ringleader, his stood there, blatantly trying tae undermine the due process ae the law, despite overwhelming eye witness accounts that prove she assaulted Sergeant Thompson tae his severe injury.  Who knows whit might’ve happened in John Street if it wisnae fur the brave officers who attended the scene?  Ah don’t think there’s much mair Ah kin add tae whit his awready been established and proved. Ah rest ma case,” the procurator fiscal said, sitting doon and avoiding eye contact wae the defendant.

  “Well done, Miss Metcalfe.  Ah’m really impressed.  Ah kin see why ye were appointed in the first place.  Ye’re a credit tae ma court, so ye ur.”

  “Aw, thank ye, sir,” a blushing procurator fiscal murmured across tae the bench.

  “Right, well, if that’s everything?” JP asked, looking at the clock and then across at the defendant.  “Is there anything else ye want tae say before Ah find ye guilty and pass sentence, Taylor?”

  “Aye, first of aw, Ah’m no finished.  Ah’d like tae call some ae ma ain witnesses.”

  “Witnesses?  Whit dae ye mean, ye want tae call witnesses?”

  “Ah, mean, if Miss Calf o’er there kin call witnesses, then so kin Ah.”

  “Er, excuse me, bit that wisnae witnesses.  Correct me if Ah’m wrang here, Miss Metcalfe.  That wis the people who wur assaulted, jist gieing their side ae the story, wisn’t it?”

  “That’s right.  They wurnae asked tae take an oath.  They wur jist called tae corroborate and establish the facts.”

  “So, Ah’d jist like tae call some people…jist tae corroborate and establish the facts, that is,” Helen demanded, trying, bit failing, tae get eye-contact wae the procurator.

  “Look, Mrs Taylor.  We’re no playing at ‘Inherit the Wind’ here, and ye’re no Henry Drummond, y’know.  This is Glesga Central District Court…ma court.  This is fur real, so it is.  So, if ye’ve nothing else tae say, we’ll maybe move oan.  Ah’ve goat a busy day aheid ae me.”

  “Ur ye trying tae deny me ma rights?”

  “In here, ye don’t hiv any rights.  Ah run this court.”

  “So, ye ur?”

  “Whit?”

  “Denying me ma rights tae call witnesses.”

  “Hiv ye anything else ye want tae add?”

  “Aye, Ah dae.  Ah’d jist like tae say that aw yer witnesses that wur called the day, hiv telt a pack ae lies and Ah kin prove it.”

  “So, where’s yer proof then?”

  “Ah telt ye, Ah need tae call some witnesses tae back up whit Ah’m aboot tae tell ye.”

  “Which is whit?”

  “That yesterday, masel and some other wummin wur protesting peacefully at the warrant sale ae Mrs Madge Morrison, when we wur attacked by a gang ae polis wielding polis truncheons.”

  “Bit, hiv ye no heard whit the polis officers who wur there hiv jist said?”

  “Aye, bit that’s their side ae the story.  Ah’ve goat people who say differently.”

  “So, where ur they then?”

  “Ah’m no sure. There’s a few ae them sitting o’er there and some ae them might still be in the building.  If no, Ah’ll need time tae contact them.”

  “Miss Metcalfe, kin ye come o’er closer tae me fur a minute.  Ah need tae ask yer advice.”

  Helen sat and watched whit wis gaun oan.  She looked aroond the packed court and didnae recognise anywan apart fae Betty and Sharon and her ain daughter Isabelle, who gied her a wee encouraging smile.  She wis also surprised tae clock The Rat hovering aboot up at the back.  It hidnae taken her long tae realise that she wis the turkey in the midst ae a kangaroo court.  She’d sat in this very room oan numerous occasions when her boys hid been in the dock that she wis noo sitting in. It aw seemed so surreal. She’d seen how justice wis meted oot tae anywan who dared step oot ae line oan many an occasion.  She wis glad that she’d managed tae convince Betty and Sharon tae go wae the other lassies and plead guilty tae save them fae being put away.  There hid been a lot ae to-ing and fro-ing between Howdy and his shyster pal, bit eventually the procurator fiscal and JP hid relented and accepted their reduced pleas, alang wae the rest ae the lassies. She felt exposed, sitting there, wondering whit JP and the procurator wur saying tae each other.  She hidnae been as naïve as tae think the odds wurnae stacked against her, especially wae JP sitting oan the bench, bit surely tae God, there wisnae any way he could find her guilty withoot her hivving hid the opportunity tae call some ae the lassies as witnesses that wid back her story up.  She’d felt confident that she’d be let oot the day, bit wid probably hiv tae come back at some time in the future.  It hid never entered her heid that aw the lassies widnae hiv been sitting wae Betty and Sharon in the public gallery.  It wis only when she noticed they wurnae there, that she’d sussed oot that they’d aw hid tae get hame tae see tae their weans.  She hid a bad feeling in the pit ae her stomach as she stared o’er at JP and that tart, who wur still whispering like a pair ae hens.

  “Right, Mrs Taylor, jist tae show that it’ll never be said that ye didnae get a fair shout in ma courtroom, ye kin call yer witnesses.”

  “They’re no aw here,” Helen replied, efter being ordered tae staun up and face JP.

  “Right, in order tae gie ye time tae contact them, Ah’m remanding ye tae Gateside Wummin’s Prison in Greenock fur seven days.  If ye need mair time, jist gie’s a shout and Ah’ll be happy tae oblige. Next.”

Chapter Twenty Nine

  Johnboy wis fair chuffed wae himsel.  He hidnae a clue where he wis and then two things happened at wance.  Efter walking fur aboot twenty minutes alang Edinburgh Road, in the direction that the bus hid gone, he came across Alexandra Park.  He recognised it as soon as he clapped eyes oan the boating pond, hivving nearly droont in it a couple ae dozen times when he wis a snapper.  He wis staunin at the V-junction beside the picture hoose, looking across at the park, watching aw the traffic coming towards him, before either veering aff tae his left fae where he’d come fae or tae the road oan his right.  No only that, bit a big BRS lorry wis heiding his way.  When he clocked that big red BRS beauty, he prayed that the traffic lights wid stoap it in its tracks.  He went and goat intae position.  It wis sitting three cars back in the queue wae its engine running.  Wan wee look tae his left and right and then he wis up and oan the back ae it, making himsel comfy.  Oan the way intae the toon, some lorries that wur heiding in the opposite direction tae him, hid boys sitting oan the back ae them, who, oan clocking him, gied him a wee wave oan their way past.  When the lorry hit Castle Street, he jumped aff as it turned left, before it disappeared doon Stirling Road tae the right.  It wis great tae be back.  Although it hid only been two weeks, it hid felt like two years.  He’d missed the sights and the sounds ae the traffic and the black soot-covered tenements.  He entered the pishy smelling closemooth oan Glebe Street that he used as a shortcut, tae take him across the puddle-strewn back courts tae the close oan the corner ae Stanhope Street, opposite Fat Fingered Finklebaum’s pawnshoap. A couple ae seconds later, wae the smell ae horse shit still fresh in his nostrils fae the stables, he wis strolling doon McAslin Street, looking fur his pals.  It seemed strange tae be wandering aboot the streets when he should’ve been at school, so he kept his eyes peeled fur the school board men, who wur always oan the go, trying tae catch the school-doggers like him. He couldnae wait tae tell everywan that he’d cadged a hudgie back hame oan his lonesome.  Efter an hour ae aimlessly wandering aboot the backs, whistling and looking up at the broken stairheid windaes ae the stairwells fur a reply, he started tae wonder if Paul and Silent hid been recaptured.  He’d been up at the Nolly, oan the stable roof in Stanhope Street and up and doon Parly Road, bit they wur naewhere tae be seen.  He wis jist staunin at the corner ae Taylor Street and Parly Road when he clocked Calum Todd, The Big Man’s runner, whizzing past, heiding doon McAslin Street and running like the clappers.  Calum must’ve jist come fae The McAslin Bar, Johnboy thought tae himsel.  Johnboy raced doon Parly Road tae try and heid Calum aff, either at Murray Street or oan St James Road.  When he came tae Murray Street, he caught site ae Calum disappearing past the far corner, still heiding towards St James Road.  Johnboy stepped up a gear and practically ran intae Calum at the traffic lights beside the wee roond Tollbooth building, where the doctor’s surgery wis.

  “Johnboy, ya wee manky toe-rag, ye.  Ah thought it wis you Ah spotted tracking me.  Whit ur ye up tae?” Calum asked him, running oan the spot.

  “Ah’m looking fur Tony, Joe and Paul.”

  “Ah saw them earlier gaun intae Rodger The Dodger’s wae a big length ae cable.”

  “Dae ye know where they ur noo?”

  “Naw.”

  “If ye see them, will ye tell them Ah’m looking fur them?”

  “Aye, nae bother. Look, Ah’ll hiv tae shoot the craw. The Big Man’s waiting fur me tae come back wae an answer he wants fae wee Tam McBride.  See ye later, Johnboy.”

  “Aye, see ye later, Calum,” he said, walking up towards the scrap shoap opposite his school.

“Aye, there wis four ae them in here earlier,” confirmed Rodger.

  “Dae ye know where they went tae?”

  “Tae get mair stuff, probably.”

  “So, where wid that be then, Rodger?”

  “Oh, Ah don’t think Ah’m in a position tae disclose that noo, am Ah?”

  “Why no?”

  “Because, if Ah tell other people where people goat the stuff they bring in here, it wid make me an accessory tae whitever they’re up tae, if ye see whit Ah mean.”

  “Bit, they’re ma pals.”

  “So you say.”

  “Rodger, if Ah’m wae them, it means mair hauns oan the job, which means mair stuff coming tae you.”

  “Aye, well, Ah don’t know aboot that wan.”

  “Ah’ve jist spent two weeks in The Grove fur trying tae get stuff fur ye.”

  “Aye, Ah thought ye looked a bit clean roond the gunnels.”

  “So, where ur they getting their stuff fae then?”

  “See, that’s whit Ah mean.  Ye get caught and before ye know it, it wis me that sent ye aff tae get it and Ah end up in the clink.”

  “Okay, so whit wis it they brought in then?”

  “Aye, well, ye see, that puts me in a tricky situation, if ye know whit Ah mean?”

  “Wis it some sort ae cable?”

  “Aye, well...”

  “Ach, furget it,” Johnboy said, realising he wis wasting his time.

  Jist as he wis wondering where they’d be getting the cable fae, he clocked them.  Rodger’s door wis bang oan the corner ae St James Road and McAslin Street, jist below where the painter wummin used tae live.  It wis a good spot tae position a scrappy.  It gied Rodger and his punters, who wur taking in knocked-aff scrap, a good opportunity tae see in baith directions at wance, allowing them tae make a quick exit if the bizzies wur oan the go.  There, straight in front ae him, he saw Tony, Joe, Paul and Silent, spread oot across Dobbies Loan, dodging in and oot ae the traffic and running like whippets towards the traffic lights where he’d jist spoken tae Calum The Runner.  Behind them, hauf way up their arses, wur Crisscross, Jobby and that big sergeant, whitever his name wis, pounding efter them.  They turned left oan tae Parly Road.  Fur a second or two, Johnboy wisnae too sure whit tae dae. If he didnae catch up wae them noo, he probably widnae find them again fur hours.  He leapt forward and legged it up McAslin Street, jist as the four ae them appeared oot ae Murray Street wae Crisscross and Jobby aboot twenty feet behind them.  Johnboy couldnae see where the big sergeant hid goat tae.  He upped his gears and shot efter them.  It didnae take him long tae pass Jobby.

  “Whit the...Crisscross!” Jobby wheezed, startled, panting like an auld cranking steam engine as Johnboy ran past him, dodging the attempted grab he made at Johnboy’s collar.

Johnboy soon caught up wae Crisscross.  He must’ve thought Johnboy wis Jobby, because in between his wheezing, he spluttered, “Heid the basturts aff up through the backs in Taylor Street, Jobby.”

  Brilliant idea, Johnboy thought, as he passed oan the right ae Crisscross, heiding intae Taylor Street.

  “Whit the fuck, ya cheeky wee basturt, ye?” Crisscross whined like the skelly-eyed fud pad that he wis, still keeping tae the boys’ tails, as Johnboy veered away tae the right. 

   Johnboy wisnae too sure if he’d been imagining things as he shot through auld Shitey Sadie’s whitewashed closemooth.  Crisscross looked as if he’d been wearing a Lone Ranger mask.  His pals wur jist leaping o’er the wall at the back ae The McAslin Bar oan tae the wee midgie dyke as he exited the back ae the close.  By the time they landed, he’d caught up wae them.

  “Johnboy, ya tit, ye.  Run!  We’ve goat Crisscross and Jobby oan oor tails,” Joe shouted withoot missing a step as he splashed through a puddle that Johnboy hid avoided earlier, no wanting tae get his feet wet.

  “Aye, Ah know.  Ah hid tae pass them tae get tae youse,” Johnboy shouted back tae a cackle ae laughter, as they piled oot intae Stanhope Street and through the closemooth opposite, beside Manky Malcolm’s rag store. 

  They heided up tae the back ae Skull’s hoose oan Barony Street, opposite St Mungo’s Chapel and nipped intae the auld air raid shelter opposite his ma’s kitchen windae.

  “Where the fuck hiv youse been?  Ah’ve been looking aw o’er the place fur ye?” Johnboy panted.

  “Blagging copper cables fae o’er in the auld railway tunnel behind Dobbies Loan.” Paul replied.  “So ye’re oot, ur ye?”

  “Aye, they slung me oot oan ma arse this morning.  How ur ye daeing, Silent?”

  “Er…” Silent said wae a smile.

  “Ye kin tell he’s jist oot.  Look how clean he looks,” Tony scoffed, sitting wae his back against the shelter.

  “Did ye jist say ye hid tae pass the bizzies tae catch up wae us?” asked Joe.

  “Aye, Ah saw youse heid up McAslin Street so Ah thought Ah’d better catch youse up before ye disappeared again.”

  “Ye’re bloody bonkers, Taylor.  Ah widnae get too cocky wae they bampots.  Look whit happened tae Skull,” Tony quipped, as Joe and Paul jist smiled across at him.

  “So, whit’s happening then?”

  “Nothing much, other than me and Silent hiv goat oorsels a nice wee palace tae live in.  Wance the coast is clear, we’ll take ye roond tae see it, if ye want,” Paul said.

  “Whit?  A real hoose?”

  “Aye, it’s even goat a front door, bit we’ve nailed that up fae the inside tae stoap they bizzy pricks trying tae creep up oan us when we’re kipping.”

  “Aye, it’s pure dead brilliant, so it is.” Joe said, nodding.

  “Where aboot is it?”

  “It’s an empty hoose alang oan Ronald Street.  Tae get in, ye hiv tae go up the loft at the tap ae the stairwell and then doon through the ceiling in the lobby.  It’s goat running water as well.  We’ll take a run doon wance we gie Crisscross and that shitey eejit, Jobby, time tae fuck aff,” Joe volunteered.

  “Wis that a Lone Ranger mask Ah clocked oan Crisscross’s face?”

  “Naw, we aw thought that as well.  Somewan must’ve gied him two black eyes.  They’re bloody stoaters, so they ur,” Tony replied, busy looking at the names scrawled aw o’er the walls ae the shelter.

  “So, whit else his been happening then?”

  “We’ve started tae dae a recce ae aw the pubs and licensed grocers.  The Big Man his asked us tae see if we kin get him some bottles ae vodka, whisky, gin or any ae the other shite they’ve goat hinging up oan the optics ae the pubs,” Tony said.

  “Whit?  Ur we back speaking tae him efter whit happened tae Skull?” Johnboy asked, surprised.

  “Aye, he spoke tae me oan Parly Road last week.  Ah wis gonnae fuck aff, bit the place wis busy, so Ah hung oan efter he shouted me o’er.  He wis oan his lonesome, so Ah felt safe enough,” Tony said, trying tae gouge his name intae the brickwork using a stane. “It wis that pair ae sergeants that torched the cabin.
According tae The Big Man, they still thought The Murphys owned it.  There’s been a lot ae run-ins between The Big Man and that Sergeant Thompson wan fur a while.  Remember, we clocked them jist aboot tae hiv a square go in the dipping yard behind Grafton Square, no long efter ye goat oot ae The Grove, Joe?”

  “If ye believe the lying basturt, that is,” Joe said, clearly no convinced.

  “Well, it sounds aboot right tae me,” Tony said, turning roond tae face them.  “Think aboot it?  We’re still here.  Dae ye think we’d be walking aboot if he thought it wis us that blagged aw his doos? If he believes that it wis the bizzies that wur behind the loft being tanned, then who ur we tae make him think otherwise?  He also telt me that he’s goat proof it wis them, bit that he disnae hiv any hard evidence.”

  “How dae ye mean?”

 
“Ah’ve jist telt ye.  He says that there wis other stuff gaun oan, other than oor cabin and the Murphys’ loft getting tanned.  He also said that he’s keeping it quiet aboot the loft being broken intae and aw their doos being blagged.”

  “Well, Ah hope he disnae find oot that we’re the missing link,” Joe said as they aw laughed, except Silent, who frowned at them, clearly no getting the joke.

  “It wis us that tanned the loft and stole aw his good breeding doos,” Johnboy said tae Silent.

  “Oh.”

  “He says he’s goat some guy oan the case…some sort ae investigator…who’s gonnae prove that it wis they bizzies.”

  “Whit aboot that Jobby wan and Crisscross?”

  “Naw, he’s convinced that it’s the two sergeants, Thompson and Big Jim Stewart.” 

“So, where ur we in aw this?” Johnboy asked.

  “We’ve started tae really upset them since ye’ve been away oan yer holidays, Johnboy.  Paul and Silent set their wee blue phone box oan St James Road oan fire last night,” Joe snorted.

“Ah never knew there wis a polis box oan St James Road,” Johnboy said.

  “Doon at the lights, jist roond fae The Grafton picture hoose. It’s tucked in behind the corner ae the doctor’s surgery, beside the slater’s yard, or it wis.”

  “Is that whit that wis?  Ah saw the big black pile earlier when Ah wis looking fur youse.”

  “And me and Joe hiv been targeting their squad cars, bit they’re awfully suspicious jist noo.  Remember when they use tae jist disappear up a close, leaving the car sitting there? No any mair, they don’t.  Wan ae them is always ootside hinging aboot.  It wis Joe that picked up oan that wan, so it wis.”

  “Ye don’t think they’ll claim that it wis the same wans that burnt doon the polis box that burnt doon the cabin, dae ye?” Johnboy asked.

  “It wis them that burnt doon the cabin,” Tony reminded him.