The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4 (15 page)

  “Baby, jist pass the message oan, eh?” he’d said, turning back tae face the enforcer.

  “Ach, well, if that’s it, Ah’ll be aff then.  Ur they plods still sitting doon there in that van?”

  “Aye.”

  “Right, Ah’ll heid oot the back closes and cut alang Auchentoshan Terrace tae Springburn Road and take it fae there.  Oh, and another thing, Tony...Wan-bob says ye hivnae tae go oot anywhere the day or the morra and ye hivnae tae take that as a nod fur a meeting wae you know who.  Okay?”

  “Fine, Baby.”

  Tony stretched oot and lifted up his third cup ae tea since Baby’s departure.  The tea hid cooled sufficiently fur him tae take a big gulp ae it.  Baby hid left aboot two hours earlier.  He stood up and went across and switched the radio aff, jist as Slade wur finishing ‘Cos Ah Luv You.’”  He needed silence so that he could collect they thoughts ae his.  He peered through the curtains.  The lazy fuck-pig basturts wur still hinging aboot doon oan the corner.  He put his haun intae his trooser pocket, pulled oot the ring and peered at the big blue stane in the middle ae it, as the fading light coming in through the windae bounced aff the circle ae diamonds.

  “Who the fuck wid’ve thought that this wis worth five grand, eh?” he asked himsel oot loud.

Chapter Twenty  

Digger Day Five

  Johnboy took aff his pyjama troosers and jaicket and laid them flat under his pillow tae gie his heid better support and height.  The only time he ever wore pyjamas wis when he wis in the jail.  Ootside, it wis always the bare buff or he’d kip wae aw his gear oan when he wis oan the move.  He’d never managed tae figure oot why the day time uniforms that him and Silent wore, wur put oot ae their cells at night wance they wur ordered tae take their bedding in.  Mind you, he barely spent any ae his time trying tae figure oot why things happened the way they did in approved schools or jails because that’s jist how they worked.  He could imagine some wee twisted fucker, sitting in a semi-darkened room, smelling his ain shite aff that arsehole ae his, being haunded a perfectly good set ae rules and regulations before gaun aff tae spend hauf his life shoogling them aboot so they didnae make any sense tae anywan, including the screws who wur supposed tae implement them.  Whit kind ae person could work like that aw their working lives and no question the rules, Johnboy wondered.  He remembered the SO fae the pallet shoap, McKenzie, telling some ae the boys when they wur at their tea break, that it wis aw right fur them.  He’d moaned that at least they’d be getting oot, bit that he’d still be stuck in there, day efter day, wance they’d left.

  “Fucking best news Ah’ve heard aw week,” McKenzie hid overheard Johnboy mutter tae The Two Johns.

  “Right, Taylor, fur that remark, ye kin scrape the oil and tarry shite aff ae that big stack ae pallets o’er there fur the next couple ae days,” McKenzie hid snarled, clearly upset when he realised nowan wis even interested or gied a toss aboot his situation. 

  He cocked his ears.  The keys wur being inserted intae the barred gate at the end ae the digger efter Tackety Boots, the nightshift screw, hid flicked the cell light oot and Johnboy’s eyes wur slowly getting used tae the darkness, efter been blinded aw day by the bare bulb up above the door.  He lay listening tae the rattling keys as the sound ae the hob-nailed boots faded in the distance and another door, a solid wan this time, wis slammed shut.  He’d been grumpy maist ae the day, even though there wisnae anywan tae be grumpy at.  He still hidnae heard back fae Freckles.  No finding a pass-note in his stale bun the past few nights hid been worse than getting a kick in the auld hee-haws.  He hid built himsel up, in anticipation ae getting another pass-note.  When nothing arrived in his bun, he’d practically howled in frustration.  He swore he’d never gie Freckles the time a day ever again, the torturing basturt.  Tae make matters worse, insteid ae being allowed tae kip aw day, he’d kept being interrupted.  It hid been like a fire sale in a fag factory wae the amount ae people that hid been trooping in and oot ae his cell.  He wis okay wae the normal routine ae getting up and slinging his bedding oot intae the corridor, getting a basin ae water and washing his face, brushing his teeth and then slopping oot his piss pot and the basin, which wis then left ootside beside his mattress.  Then it wis back tae silence, waiting fur his breakfast, which consisted ae a bowl ae watery porridge and two slices ae bread wae jam.  He usually sat and sang fur aboot an hour or so before daeing his press-ups, sit-ups and running oan the spot fur a further hour while he wis waiting fur The AG tae show up wae Napoleon The Pig.  The whole rigmarole wis exactly the same as the morning before and the morning before that, which suited Johnboy jist fine.  He couldnae be arsed wae aw that false ‘how ur ye daeing?’ routine when everywan knew that nae fucker gied a fuck.

  “So, Taylor, everything all right?” The AG wid ask.

  “Fine and dandy at ma end.” 

  “Oh?  No complaints then?” he always asked, irritated by Johnboy’s reply and never able tae fully mask his disappointment at the answer he’d goat back.

  “No fae where Ah’m staunin, there isnae.”

  Aw that shite wis okay and jist bearable.  It meant that as soon as the cell door wis shut, Johnboy could get a bit ae shut-eye, withoot being disturbed, hivving been up aw night, trying tae figure oot his world and attempting tae get his heid roond whit wis happening ootside.  He’d hid a feeling when he woke up that his karma wis gonnae be disturbed that day.  Joe’s death kept playing oan his mind.  Wan ae the screws that hid opened his cell up first thing in the morning fur him tae slop oot, hid tried tae start some small talk when he’d been emptying his piss pot.

  “How ur ye feeling the day, Taylor?”

  Silence.

  “Ach, well, that’s nearly yer first week in, so it is.  Won’t be long noo, eh?”

  Silence.

  “Whit’s wrang?  Ur ye in a huff aboot something?”

  “Aye, something’s bothering him, Charlie,” his eejit pal hid joined in.

  Johnboy hidnae been ignoring them or deliberately trying tae be insolent or anything like that.  They’d jist been there, babbling a heap ae shite and he hidnae been listening as he wis gaun aboot his morning routine ae emptying his pish pot doon a sink.  It’d only been when the other screw hid butted in, that Johnboy realised that they wur actually talking tae him and no aboot him.  It seemed obvious tae Johnboy that the two ae them wur either in that rookie stage ae still being new in the job and hivving no been tainted by maist ae their colleagues who made it their mission in life tae make prisoners lives a misery at every opportunity, or they wur up tae something he hidnae figured oot as yet.  Maist ae the borstal boys in Polmont that Johnboy knew or associated wae viewed their surroundings and the uniformed, hatted people that inhabited it separately.  Fixed objects like tables and chairs, bars, windaes, beds, walls, photos, flairs, books, corridors, knives, forks and tea-urns and routines like staunin in queues, being telt when tae eat, sleep and shit wur the norm.  The screws, oan the other haun, who Johnboy supposed wur meant tae be the main visible feature ae the place and who hung aboot the corridors and cell wings, year efter year, kidding themsels oan that whit they wur daeing wis important, bit struggling tae actually find any evidence ae that importance, wur jist vaguely visible, passing irritants tae the majority ae people banged up in the place who spent their time weighing up whether tae go straight or no.  The only time Johnboy, Silent or people like the Garngad uglies, wur ever actually aware ae a
screw’s
presence, wis when the screw stood in front ae them and shouted or came up wae some other original method ae grabbing their attention, like jumping up and doon, their face gaun purple wae anger and frustration.  Johnboy hid watched wan ae they arty-farty films wance, when he wis trying tae get intae the knickers ae a student who’d been attending The Glesga School ae Art and who’d obviously fancied trying a bit ae rough in the shape ae Johnboy.  She’d wanted him tae go and see a film that some fanny underground director hid made, that hid been turned oot tae be pure pish, aboot suspended animation.  Johnboy hid been honest fae the start wae her and hid confessed that he hidnae a clue whit the fuck the film hid been aboot.  Later oan, he’d been sitting, oan his best behaviour, cross-legged oan her mattress, oan the flair in the corner ae her room up in her student flat that she shared wae three other beauts, across in Byres Road.  He’d been wondering how he wis gonnae get intae they knickers ae hers while kidding oan tae her that he wisnae being traumatised wae the screeching ae Yoko Ono sounding as if she wis aboot tae gie birth tae an elephant in the backgroond, efter she’d put the LP oan fur the third time in a row, while trying tae persuade him tae try and smoke wan ae the joints she kept rolling, wan efter the other.  Aw ae a sudden, she’d literally jist dived oot ae the chair across fae him.  At first he thought he wis aboot tae get assaulted, until she started trying tae rip they troosers ae his aff ae his arse withoot first unbuckling his belt.  Although the film hidnae exactly been Mick Jagger’s ‘Performance,’ he’d picked up some ae the drift ae whit wis gaun oan in it...some ae the time.  Thinking back tae the characters in the film wis probably the closest that Johnboy could come tae describing how him and maist people he knew in the jail viewed the screws.  They wur there, in some sort ae no man’s land, floating aboot, being ignored by everywan who hid any sense or self-respect.  The boys that did actively acknowledge their existence, tended tae be the wans that wur usually suspended up there wae them, like stoat-the-baws, who wur in fur perching oan weans and grannies or people who wur aff their heid and shouldnae hiv been there in the first place.  Johnboy reckoned that the problem wae the screws in a place like Polmont wis that, when they spoke tae ye in a friendly manner, ye knew fine well that it wis jist them trying tae fill up their time until they finished their shift.  Due tae the nature ae the job and the obvious lack ae skills required tae carry oot the tasks associated wae it, they wur aw obviously bored shitless maist ae the time, wance the novelty ae hivving a wee bit ae power o’er people wore aff.
 
How much training did it take tae turn a key tae lock a door and tae then turn the key back the way, tae unlock it?  It seemed tae Johnboy tae be wan ae they types a jobs that invited the person, whether they’d started oot quite decent or no, tae become mischievous evil shitehooses, especially the wans who didnae realise the inevitability ae that, at an early stage ae their employment, and found themsels trapped before they could get oot and move oan tae something a bit mair humane.  They clearly didnae gie a shit aboot their prisoners or who they wur or where they came fae…which might’ve been fine fur some people, bit tae Johnboy, the last person Johnboy wis willing tae accept a using aff ae, when they wur getting paid tae hing aboot, daeing sweet fuck-aw, wis his jailers.  The SO, McKenzie, across in the pallet shoap, wis right.  Working in a job every day ae yer life, where nowan wanted tae voluntarily speak tae ye, liked ye, or wis interested in yer opinion, wis as good as daeing time.  The only difference between McKenzie and the jailbirds he wis guarding, wis that he goat tae go hame at night.

  He hidnae settled doon fur long, efter his keep-fit exercises in the morning and hid been lying wae his erms and legs wrapped roond the hot pipes, nodding in and oot ae Sleepsville, appreciating aw that racket coming fae the mad fuckers across in the pallet shop, when he’d become aware that his cell door might’ve been opened.  He’d decided that he’d been imagining things due tae the fact that he wis nice and comfortable, until he heard the cough.  Because ae where the concrete bed wis in relation tae the pipes, whether he lay oan his left or his right-haun side, he could only lie wae his back tae the door.  Efter untangling himsel and staunin up, wondering where the fuck he wis, his confusion continued unabated when he clocked a posse ae strange-looking people staunin looking at him fae jist inside his cell door.  He’d hid tae blink a couple ae times tae make sure he hidnae landed oan the set ae ‘Zombies Ae The Stratosphere,’ that auld shite movie that him, Joe, Skull and Tony hid skipped in tae see in The Grafton Picture Hoose, doon oan Parly Road in the Toonheid, when he wis a snapper, that hid the guy wae the pointed ears fae Star Trek in it.  There, before him, in aw their majestic glory, stood seven or eight auld wummin, none ae them under the age ae eighty, aw dressed up as if they wur oan a hunting expedition.  Everywan ae them hid a skinned fox, sporting black and orange glassy staring eyes, wrapped roond their necks, apart fae the heid honcho wan.  It looked as if she’d a whole grey silver wolf wrapped roond that neck ae hers.  Maist ae them wur wearing wee bonnet type hats, wae long broon spotted feathers sticking oot ae the tap ae them.  He hauf expected tae hear the sound ae a William Tell horn bellowing in their wake.  Some hid wee nets hinging doon fae the tap ae their hats, that draped o’er their eyes, doon tae the bridges ae their big pan-stick-caked hooked noses.  Thank Christ The AG hid breezed his way through the cloud ae moth ball dust tae the front ae them tae announce who Johnboy wis, or he wid’ve made an arse ae himsel by jumping intae his favourite Hi-Karate stance, jist like the guy in the white suit in that shite eftershave advert.

  “This is Taylor, Lady Polmont.  He’s been confined to solitary confinement, along with the one you’ve already met next door...Smith...for blocking up South Wing’s cell door locks with quick drying adhesive,” he’d shouted, tae a cackle ae ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ fae the living dead.

  “And how long is this one here for, Governor?” the plummy voiced she-wolf hid shouted back at The AG, while Johnboy tried tae compose himsel by wakening up.

  “Fourteen day’s solitude, ma’am.”

  “Seven days longer than the prisoner next door, then...the one who refuses to speak?”

  “Yes, ma’am, this one was the instigator.  The inmate next door, Smith, can talk, but he just prefers to remain silent.  He’s a completely hopeless case.  The visiting psychiatrist has confirmed that.  He’s known amongst his fellow recidivists as Silent,” he’d shouted, tae the gaggle ae hard ae hearing, tae mair ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ and quick glances at the brick wall that separated Johnboy’s cell fae Silent’s.

  “And this...er...one?” Queen She-wolf hid asked, back tae the business in haun.

  “Oh, he’s got a tongue in his head, ma’am, but I wouldn’t think you’ll get much sense out of him.  He’s very anti-social and not very bright,” Fuck-face hid replied.

  It hid suddenly hit him as tae why the screws hid tried tae talk nicely tae him that very morning and the next line oot ae the auld decrepit she-wolf hid confirmed his suspicions.

  “Well, tell him that we are the Borstal Visiting Committee and we’re here to help him,” she’d shouted tae The AG, as the rest ae the foxy brigade aw looked at him, nodding they ghastly powder-puffed, rouge-red lipsticked faces ae theirs in Johnboy’s direction.