Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 (9 page)

  “Whit dae ye want?”

  “Er, ma name’s Sammy Elliot and Ah’m fae The Glesga Echo,” the wee weasel hid said, trying tae haun o’er a wee card.

  “And Ah’m Helen and if ye don’t get tae fuck doon they stairs right noo, Ah’m gonnae scream ‘Rape!’”

  “Er, ye’ll whit?”

  That’s aw he’d goat oot ae that rat’s mooth ae his.  Whit a scream she’d let rip wae.  Her tonsils hid jist aboot bounced aff ae his foreheid.  He’d been hauf way doon they stairs before she’d even finished.  When Betty hid showed up ten minutes efter the supposed rape hid taken place, he’d been long gone.

  “Christ’s sake, Betty, ye’re far too late.  Ah sucked the poor basturt in and blew him oot in bubbles.”

  “Wis that you making aw that bloody racket?  Aw the wummin in the street will no hauf be jealous wae ye hivving a strange man up at yer door who ye don’t owe money tae,” she’d said, wae a big grin oan her face.  “So, whit’s up?”

  Helen hid telt Betty whit Pat hid telt her aboot the polis setting the dookit alight.  Like hersel, Betty hidnae thought there wis anything in it.

   The next time Helen hid come across Roddy The Rodent hid been when she’d hid tae turn up at the Marine Juvenile Court o’er in Partick.  Johnboy hid goat caught stealing copper sheets aff ae the roof ae the records building in Sighthill cemetery.  She’d arrived jist before they’d taken him up before the judge.  A wee specky lawyer, by the name ae Howdy, hid taken her aside and hid telt her whit hid happened.  Seemingly, Johnboy and two ae his pals hid been spotted stripping aff the copper sheets.  The Springburn Polis hid gied chase.  He’d goat caught, while the other two hid goat away.  They’d taken him o’er tae Partick and by the time he’d gied them his details, it hid been efter twelve at night.  Jimmy hid bumped intae the polis coming up the stairs oan his way doon tae phone them tae report Johnboy missing.  They’d kept Johnboy in and that Jobby wan…wan ae the local constables…hid telt Jimmy that Johnboy wid be up in court at ten the next morning.  Helen hid gone aff her heid at Jimmy fur no demanding that Johnboy be brought hame insteid ae being kept locked up o’ernight. Jobby hid said that if Jimmy wanted Johnboy hame, he’d need tae go and collect him himsel.  The buses hid stoapped running fur the night and Jimmy hid said he wisnae prepared tae troop aw the way oot tae Partick in the rain if Johnboy wis due up in front ae the judge a couple hours later…the basturt.  Howdy hid telt her that he’d advised Johnboy tae plead guilty.  If he didnae, they’d put him oan a two-week remand, then find him guilty when he came back up and he wid probably get another fourteen or even twenty eight days detention anyway.  Helen hidnae even hid time tae talk tae Johnboy before he’d been wheeled in and wheeled oot, wae a fourteen day detention sentence in Larchgrove Remand Home.  She’d been so angry.  How the hell could they keep a ten year auld boy in o’er night and then sentence him tae fourteen days detention, she’d demanded.  She’d tried tae gie Johnboy a wave, bit she wisnae sure if he’d seen her or no.  He’d looked filthy and his red hair wis staunin oan end as if he’d jist been plugged in.  They might’ve let him hiv a wash, at least…the basturts. The wee specky brief hid come back o’er tae try and talk tae her, bit before he’d goat within ten paces ae her, he’d goat the message that she wisnae fur chatting and he’d aboot turned and disappeared up the arse ae the stairs tae his next unsuccessful case.

  When she’d come oot ae the court, the rodent hid been staunin across the road, trying unsuccessfully tae catch her eye.  He’d known better than tae approach her, so he’d jist followed her up tae the underground. When she’d goat aff at Queen Street, he’d scurried tae catch up, sensibly staying aboot ten feet behind her, no saying a word.  It wis only when she’d goat tae the corner ae Montrose Street that she’d stoapped and waited till he’d caught up wae her.  He wis a shifty wee crater.  He hidnae walked straight up tae her like maist normal people wid’ve.  He’d kind ae gone roond in circles, coming closer.  He’d hesitate, move closer, clearly nae sure ae himsel, and then he’d gie her a wee glance tae see if there wis any encouragement fae her.  If he thought it wis there, he’d dae his wee song and dance routine, at the same time as edging closer again.

  “Right, ye’ve goat ten seconds, pal, before Ah scream the street doon.”

  “Er, Helen, ma name’s...”

  “Ah know whit yer name is.”

  “...Sammy Elliot and Ah work fur The Glesga Echo.”

  That hid been it…she’d set aff up the street again, wae him scurrying sideways up alangside her.

  “Naw, wait, Helen, please.  Ah jist want a wee word wae ye.  Please?”

  Helen hid stoapped and looked at him.  He came across as a wee scared type ae man, bit the sleekitness and cruelty in they eyes ae his couldnae be hidden, even wae a broon paper bag covering that face ae his.  She’d taken an instant dislike tae him.

  “Ye’ve goat five seconds, Ratty.”

  “The Big Man, Pat Molloy, said Ah should hiv a wee word wae ye.  Hiv ye goat a minute?”

  She couldnae be arsed wae his games, so she’d turned oan her heel and continued tae walk up the hill tae her closemooth.  She’d sworn tae hersel that if the wee rodent took wan step intae her close, she’d swing fur him.

   Helen wisnae sure if there wis some sort ae a conspiracy gaun oan or no. There hid been aw sorts ae rumours flying aboot regarding the supposed involvement ae the polis in the fire. She’d spoken aboot whit Pat Molloy hid telt her wae aw the lassies when they’d met up tae discuss the next warrant sale.  Everywan hid agreed that The Big Man wis behind the rumours and that he wis up tae something.  Bit, whit wis it?  They jist wurnae able tae put a finger oan anything.  The jungle drums hid swiftly come oot across the area, bit none ae the other wummin in the Toonheid believed the polis wur involved, even though Moira Lafferty and Big Roisin Murphy, hid baith spat on Liam Thompson’s face ootside the post office up oan Glebe Street when the story hid first surfaced.

  “Whit the fuck wis that fur?” Thompson hid howled, as wee Alma Collins and Babs Lenaghan stepped in between Moira and Roisin, allowing Thompson tae high-tail it back tae his squad car before things turned really nasty.

Betty hid summed up whit everywan believed, hersel included.

   “As much as Ah try, and Ah’ve tried many a time, Ah still cannae identify any redeeming features belonging tae that big Liam Thompson wan, bit burning a wee boy in a dookit?  Somehow, Ah don’t think so,” Betty hid said tae nods fae everywan.

  “Aye, bit ye know whit they say aboot shite sticking,” Sharon Campbell hid said.

  A week later, Helen hid been coming oot ae Curley’s up oan Parly Road efter getting her day-before-yesterday’s cutting loaves, when she’d come across Pat Molloy, hinging aboot and looking as shifty as his wee rodent pal.

  “Helen, ma wee prairie flower.  Fancy bumping intae yersel…how ur ye daeing the day, hen?”

  “Pat, don’t bloody call me that.  Ah jist heard the other day there, that a prairie flower is a bloody cactus, ya wanker, ye.”

  “It’s no, is it?” he’d exclaimed, putting oan his best
choirboy look.  “Ah never knew that, hen.  Wait till Ah see that Frankie Macdonald.  Ah goat the expression aff ae him, the bampot that he is.  Ah’ve been using that as a chat-up line fur aboot two years noo.  Aw the wummin seem tae love it.”

  “Anyway, whit ur ye efter?  Ma man disnae owe ye money, dis he?”

  “Naw, naw, Ah wis jist passing by when Ah clocked that lovely face ae yers in amongst aw that cheese, lard, pats ae butter and sultanas and Ah thought Ah’d hing aboot tae say hellorerr.  There’s nae crime in that, is there?”

  “Is that right?  Here ye go then, ye kin help me carry ma shoapping,” she’d said tae him, loving seeing his jaw drap and everywan in Parly Road clocking him carrying two shoapping bags, full ae stale breid, fur the maw ae five kids.

  “Listen, c’mone and Ah’ll treat ye tae a wee cup ae tea in Fanny Black’s tearoom across the road there.”

  “Pat, Ah need tae get hame.  We kin talk oan the way, though ye’re no getting invited in.”

  “Aw, Helen, c’mone, it’ll only take five minutes.  Take the weight aff they plates ae meat ae yers.”

  “Right, ye’ve goat five minutes and then Ah’m offskie, and ye’re paying,” she’d telt him.

  Wee Lorna McKinnon hid arrived wae their tea, aw decked oot like something oot ae they auld black and white films, dressed in funeral black wae white lace roond her collar and cuffs.

  “Ah’ve never been in here.  Ah never could afford a bob fur a cup ae tea and a tanner fur a teacake.  Ah could feed ma weans fur four days oan that.”

  “Aye, Ah think they’re trying tae model it oan some fancy tea room that wis doon oan Ingram Street that wis made famous by some rich dandy years ago.”

  “That rich dandy wis born and bred up a close in number seventy Parson Street.  He wis called Charles Rennie Mackintosh and it wis Miss Cranston’s tea rooms he designed.”

  “Is that right?  Never heard ae him.  Number seventy? That’s the same close as Shaun and his brothers.  So, whit wis his scam then?”

  “He designed the layoot and aw the furniture, including the cutlery.”

  “Whit, jist so people could sit and get a taste ae how the other hauf live when they could get the same tea and buns in Gizzi’s fur a fraction ae the price?”

  “Aye, it wis ma Aunt Jeannie that telt me aboot him years ago, when Ah wis planning a school project aboot the Toonheid.  She took me doon tae Ingram Street a few times as a treat and fur me tae get a feel fur the place.  She bought me a lovely pair ae red sandals tae wear wae a flower print dress she’d bought me the summer before.  That wis back in the thirties.  Ah must’ve only been aboot nine or ten at the time.  Ah’d used the visits as part ae ma research. Aunt Jeannie wis an auld commie, bit she hid good taste when it came tae tea and buns. It wisnae long efter that that she left fur Spain, if ma memory serves me
right.”

  “Aye, Ah kin remember her oot and aboot in her nurse’s uniform, trying tae get people’s votes aff ae them,” The Big Man hid said.

  “When Ah mentioned that Rennie Mackintosh came fae Ronald Street tae ma teacher, she jist laughed at me and assured me that Ah’d goat the wrang guy, and that wis that.”

  “Well, if this is modelled oan his stuff, then he couldnae hiv goat very far.  This bloody chair wae the high back is crippling me.”

  “So, whit ur ye efter, Pat?”

  “Oor wee furry pal says ye don’t want tae talk tae him,” he’d said, lowering his voice, as he looked aboot the tea room at aw the retired teachers and church ministers wae the big pensions.

  “Whit ur ye oan aboot?”

  “Helen, don’t play wae me.  Ah know ye, remember?  It’s me, Pat, that ye’re speaking tae here.”

He’d held oan tae the erm ae her chair tae stoap her sliding it oot fae under the table and preventing her fae staunin up and walking oot.

  “Pat, ye thought ye knew me then, when ye treated me like a mug.  Ye didnae know me then and ye still don’t know me, so don’t try and pretend.  Tell me whit it is ye want, so Ah kin tell ye tae take a hike in front ae aw these nice people.”

  “Why the fuck dae ye hate me?  Whit hiv Ah done, eh?  Okay, Ah fucked up, bit that disnae make me a bad person, dis it?” he’d snarled under his breath.

  “Ah’m jist no gonnae answer that wan.  Jist tell me whit ye’re up tae so Ah kin go aboot ma daily business.”

  “As Ah’ve jist said, ma wee pal says ye’re playing hard tae get.”

  “So whit?  Who the hell dis he think he is, eh?  Whit wid Ah want tae talk tae a sleazy wee rodent like him fur, eh?  Pat, get a life, will ye?”

  “Ye know why…Ah telt ye.”

  “Pat, ye telt me cat’s pish.”

  “Ye might no gie a shite, bit Ah dae.  Ah’m telling ye, they basturts wur involved in that fire.  He wis yer son’s pal.  It could’ve been Johnboy in that dookit wae the Kelly boy insteid ae Elvis, Tam The Bam’s dug.”

  “Naw, Pat, it couldnae, because he wis at hame in his bed.  Ah don’t know whit the hell ye’re up tae, bit ye’re no using me or any ae the lassies in any ae this.”

  “Helen, wid ye jist listen tae yersel?” he’d whispered, looking aboot.  “Aw Ah’m asking ye is tae hiv five minutes wae him.  He needs ye tae corroborate some ae the stuff he’s managed tae come up wae.  Withoot that corroboration, there’s isnae a story.”

  “Pat, he disnae hiv a story.  Ah telt ye, Johnboy wis getting harassed and noo he isnae…end ae story.  Hiv ye nae shame?  That poor wee boy’s ma and da ur baith in hospital and ye’re gaun aboot stirring things up…making life even harder fur them tae come tae terms wae whit’s happened.  Nowan believes that Liam Thompson wis involved in that fire and Ah don’t believe fur wan minute you dae either.  Ye’re clearly up tae something, bit ye’re no gieing any ae us a using jist tae get yer ain back oan some shoddy deal that didnae work oot between you and Liam Thompson.  Where wur ye when we asked fur yer help in trying tae stoap aw they warrant sales?”

  “Helen, speak tae him.  Please?”

  “Who else his he spoken tae aboot here?”

  “A few people, bit it’s the maws he wants access tae.  They won’t gie him the time ae day.  He thinks that if he speaks tae you, ye’ll get him access tae them,” he’d pleaded soothingly.

  “So, whit’s in it fur us then?”

  “How dae ye mean?”