Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 (39 page)

  “Taylor?” the big creepy turnkey shouted at the upturned faces when he swung open the cell door.

  “Aye, that’s me.”

  “Oot ye come, ye’re up soon.”

  Helen stumbled behind the turnkey, who wis dragging her alang the corridor, through the reception area, doon tae the right and intae a wee room that hid a couple ae benches, back tae back, sitting in the middle ae it.  It wis the same room that aw the lassies and hersel hid been put in, jist before her last appearance. When she went through the door, the turnkey turned and unlocked her wrists fae the hauncuffs, before putting his fingers up tae his lips and nodding tae her tae take a seat oan wan ae the benches facing the door that said ‘Courtroom.’  It felt good tae hiv her hauns free.  She could hear JP shouting his heid aff and a timid frightened voice trying tae plead her innocence back.  Her mooth began tae get dry and she wis jist aboot tae ask the turnkey if there wis any chance ae a cup ae water when the door she’d jist been dragged through opened and in stepped Harry Portoy, dressed in a smart suit wae a black gown hinging aff ae his shoulders, like something oot ae a Batman comic.

  “Gie’s a couple ae minutes, son,” he said tae the turnkey, who nodded silently and tiptoed oot ae the room.

  Johnboy bolted across McAslin Street and through the closes that took him oot oan tae Parly Road.  His plan wis tae heid doon tae the traffic lights at St James Road and then turn left, back up towards Ronald Street, using the huts in his school as cover fae any bizzies coming and gaun alang the road.  It meant he could hiv a good swatch up Ronald Street tae see whit wis happening wae Tony and the others.  His only worry wis that wan ae the teachers in the school wid clock him.  As he wis cantering doon towards the traffic lights, Horsey John, sitting oan tap ae a cart being pulled by Jessie, started tae turn left intae the traffic, oot ae Taylor Street.  Johnboy wis jist aboot tae run efter them and jump oan the back, tae grab a hudgie when Horsey John saw him and made it plain that he wisnae up fur that.

  “Don’t even think ae it, ya wee dick, ye,” he snarled, whacking Jessie oan the arse wae the end ae an auld rope he hid curled roond his haun. 

  As the rope connected, Jessie leapt intae a trot and shot aff, heiding towards the traffic lights and the toon centre.  As Johnboy wis crossing Murray Street, and wis approaching The Grafton picture hoose, hoping he widnae bump intae his granny, he heard the screeching ae brakes, followed by a massive thud.  He heard Jessie whinnying, followed by a bloodcurdling painful scream.  Within seconds, people wur running aboot and the shoaps roond aboot the traffic lights emptied, as folk rushed tae help.  A big lorry wis sitting at a twisted angle, wae its back end up oan
the pavement, hard against the wall opposite The Grafton and its cab pointing in the same direction as it hid been heiding. Jessie wis lying further doon oan Parly Road wae her heid pointing towards St James Road, still harnessed and attached tae the cart.  The cart wis oan its side and it looked strange being able tae see the axles ae the four wheels that wur usually hidden underneath it.  Johnboy ran across tae Jessie.  She wis lying there wae a dazed look in her eyes.  She wis panting furiously and her tongue wis hinging oot ae her mooth oan tae the road.

  “There, there, Jessie.  Don’t worry, hen, ye’ll be okay,” Johnboy wis saying tae her gently, when he clocked an opening in the legs that wur milling aboot him. 

  Horsey John wis hauf sitting and hauf lying, wae his back against the traffic light pole.  His mooth wis opening and shutting wordlessly and his eyes hid the same stare in them that Jessie’s hid.  The corner ae the cart that wis sitting oan its side wis also sitting oan tap ae his stomach.

  “Quick, gie’s a haun tae lift this aff ae him,” Johnboy heard somewan shout.

  “We’re fucked, the cart’s still attached tae the horse.”

  “Kin we move the horse, dae ye think?”

  “Get the polis, somewan!” a wummin screamed. 

  That last screech goat through tae Johnboy’s brain.  Jessie hid shut her eyes bit she wis still breathing.  At the mention ae the bizzies, Johnboy reluctantly goat up and went across and stood in a closemooth beside the traffic lights oan the other side ae St James Road.

  “Where’s the hell’s the polis and an ambulance when ye want them?” somewan cursed.

  Johnboy wisnae sure where they’d come fae, bit a man and a wummin appeared oot ae naewhere.  He thought they wur probably the doctors fae the tollbooth surgery.  The man hid a wee leather bag, which he wis taking things oot ae and daeing something tae Horsey John.  A couple ae seconds later, the man shook his heid and said something tae the wummin kneeling beside him, before shutting his wee bag and staunin up. Efter gieing her a haun up oan tae her feet, the wummin went across and picked up the sack cloth that Horsey John hid been using as a cushion, which wis noo lying in the middle ae the road.  She unfurled it and draped it o’er Horsey John’s face and the tap hauf ae his body.  Jessie still lay there, no getting any attention.

  “Where the fuck ur they polis?” Johnboy heard another voice screaming in frustration. 

  By then, people hid started tae come aff the buses they’d been sitting oan and wur staunin and staring.  A blue lorry arrived, hivving overtaken the stationary buses, vans and wagons that wur sitting in the traffic jam oan Dobbies Loan.  A wee man, wae a dirty tartan bunnet oan his heid, walked across and bent doon beside Jessie.  He wis only there fur a few seconds before he stood up and casually walked back tae his lorry and leaned in the passenger door.  Leaving the door ajar, he walked back briskly tae where Jessie wis lying.  Johnboy never saw whit he hid in his haun until the last second.  The wee man placed the gun jist behind Jessie’s left ear and pulled the trigger.  Everywan froze at the sound ae the shot.  A couple ae the wummin who wur staunin near Johnboy hid their hauns up tae their mooths and wur sobbing.  The wee man in the bunnet put the gun back in his cab, shut the door and dragged a canvas aff the back ae his lorry and covered Jessie up.  A trail ae blood began seeping slowly fae under the canvas towards where Johnboy wis staunin.  Johnboy aboot-turned and dashed through the back closemooth, hard oan the heels ae the echo ae somewan his ain age screaming, towards Montrose Street and hame.

  “Harry, whit the...?”

  “Helen, keep the noise doon.  Ah’ve nae time tae explain.  Noo, listen carefully.  When ye go intae the dock, jist keep yer mooth shut and let me dae aw the talking.  Hiv ye goat that, hen?”

  “Aye, bit...”

  “Next!” JP’s voice boomed fae the other side ae the door.

  The turnkey reappeared.

  “Remember, don’t say a word other than tae confirm who ye ur,” Harry whispered, side-stepping the turnkey and disappearing back oot intae the corridor.

  “I’m sorry, Sean.  I just found out when I arrived in this morning,” Maggie Tin Knickers apologised.

  “And we don’t know who wis wae him?”

  “No.  I’m sure it wasn’t that Mr Morrison who visited Taylor before though.”

  “And it wis definitely the lawyer wan?”

  “Yes, still dressed like a circus clown apparently.  Martha, one of my senior members of staff reported that once seen…never forgotten.”

  “Bit Ah thought he telt her that he wisnae gonnae represent her?”

  “He did.  Martha swears that’s what she heard him telling Taylor when he left on Wednesday.”

  “Ach, well, Ah widnae worry too much.  There isnae much he kin dae tae save her neck noo.  JP telt me this morning that he’s no been able tae sleep aw week because he cannae wait tae see the expression oan that coupon ae hers when he sends her back doon tae yersels.  He said he wis gonnae take a set ae ear plugs and pop them intae his lugs jist before he sentences her.”

  “Yes, she’s quite an uncouth and vulgar woman.  I’ve already had words with her in my office.  She had the audacity to stand there, attempting to justify why everyone else in this world was in the wrong, except her.  Then she…Joan of Arc…proceeded to lecture me on right and wrong.  She has absolutely no respect for authority whatsoever. The staff reported that within a few hours of her arrival, she was redrafting the prisoners’ rule book that has served us all so well for the past hundred years.”

  “Well, never you mind, Maggie.  Ye’ll hiv plenty ae time tae rehabilitate the bitch, starting the night.”

  Helen plapped her arse oan tae the hard shiny seat and looked aboot.  The courtroom looked smaller than she remembered it being.  Wan ae the lassies, back in the cell, hid telt her that they operated six courts, aw at the wan time, tae keep up wae demand.  Jimmy wis sitting wae Isabelle, Anne and Norma.  Aw the lassies who’d been arrested wae her up oan John Street, including Sandra McClellan, Cathy Galloway, Soiled Sally, Mary Malone, Sharon Campbell, Ann Jackson and Betty wur gieing her wee friendly waves and smiles.  Auld Madge Morrison, whose furniture hid been sold in the warrant sale, limped in late and heided fur a spare seat oan the end ae the third pew.

  “Good luck, hen.  Don’t let the basturts grind ye doon,” Madge, who wis hauf deaf, shouted oot loudly across the courtroom tae her.

  Oan the left haun side ae the court, she could see Colin
McGregor, the Toonheid inspector, wae Liam Thompson and Big Jim Stewart, his two sergeants, sitting oan a bench.  Behind them stood Crisscross and Jobby, aw grinning fae ear tae ear,
clearly enjoying being part ae the circus.

  “Right, noo, whit dae we hiv here then?” JP asked pleasantly tae aw and sundry, as the court usher beside Helen telt her tae staun up.

“This is Mrs Helen Taylor fae wan-wan-seven Montrose Street, Toonheid, yer honour.  Taylor his been charged wae a breach ae the peace, resisting arrest and assaulting Polis Sergeant Liam Thompson, as he wis gaun aboot his lawful business oan behauf ae the good people ae Glesga.  Ye remanded her fur seven days, a week ago, and this is her, back up in front ae ye again,” Miss Metcalfe, the procurator fiscal reminded him.

  “Is that Taylor staunin there?” JP asked, even though he’d known her maist ae her life.

  “Ur ye Helen Taylor?” Miss Metcalfe asked her.

  “Aye.”

  “She said she is, yer honour.”

  “Carry oan, Miss Metcalfe.”

  “Ye may recall that ye remanded Taylor intae custody a week ago because she demanded tae put thegither some sort ae defence and tae call some witnesses, yer honour,” Miss Metcalfe sneered, looking across at Helen’s neighbours, who wur sitting in the gallery, watching the performance.

  “And dae we a hiv such a defence or a list then, Miss Metcalfe?”

  “The only name Ah hiv that wis passed forward tae me wis a Mrs Patricia Paterson, yer honour.”

  “So, she somehow managed tae get wan then?”

  “It looks like it,” Miss Metcalfe said, tae the puzzled looks ae Helen, her family and her pals.

  “Oh, well, we better get a move oan then.  We widnae want tae be accused ae dragging oot the cause ae justice, noo wid we?” JP said, looking at his watch.

  “As far as we’re concerned…the ‘we’ being the Procurator Fiscal’s office, yer honour, this is a done and dusted case and Taylor is as guilty as sin, so she is.”

  “Well, Ah could’ve telt ye that a week ago, bit in the interests ae justice, Ah took it upon masel tae make sure this wan wid hiv nae comeback and say she didnae get a fair trial, given the proximity ae her, living in amongst ma local constituents, if ye see whit Ah mean?”

  “Ah dae indeed, yer honour.”

  “Right, well, withoot further ado, Taylor, ye kin start yer defence.  Ah’m sure we’re aw dying tae hear it,” JP intoned sarcastically, looking o’er at the laughing polismen.

  Before JP could come oot wae any mair shite, Helen cleared her throat.

  “Ah’ll let ma brief dae the talking fur me, if ye don’t mind,” Helen announced confidently, feeling a thrill shoot through her body, as every mooth in the place drapped open.

  “Aye, yer honour, Ah’ll be representing Mrs Taylor the day,” Harry Portoy said.      

  When he stood up fae the pew in front ae the laughing polismen, they aw looked as sick as parrots.

  “Bit Ah, er, erm...” JP mumbled, looking o’er at the procurator fiscal, who jist held her hauns oot, indicating there wis nothing she could dae aboot the developing situation.

  “And you ur?”

  “Harry Portoy…yer honour.”

  “Bit, er, Ah thought ye wur a jake...er, retired.”

  “Semi-retired, Ah think the term is nooadays.”

  “Well, Ah mean, Ah...”

  “So kin Ah begin?”

  “Er, well, Ah suppose so.”

  “Right, Ah wid jist like tae ask ye fur a postponement ae these proceedings, yer honour, tae gie us time tae consider the case against ma client further.”

  The faces ae JP and Miss Metcalfe, alang wae the parrots, aw burst intae big grins again, while aw Helen’s supporters including hersel, jist aboot fainted.

  “Given that yer client his appeared in ma court the day fae remand, ye’ll understaun that, this’ll mean she’ll hiv tae go back tae Greenock if Ah agree tae this request?” JP said wae glee, as the big grins aw goat bigger and every heid swung back tae Coco the Clown.