Authors: Ian Todd
“Look, aw ye need tae dae is jam a wee ammo clip intae a block ae wood, fur fuck’s sake,” Tony said tae him.
“And whit aboot poor Silent, eh? Ye know fine well he wants that barber’s job, so he dis.”
“Well, if ye don’t fuck it up at your end, then he’ll still get it then, won’t he?” Tony retorted, still amused by Pat’s predictable ootburst.
”So, ye’re no gonnae join in and help us keep Snappy amused then, Pat?” Johnboy challenged him. “Is that whit ye’re saying?”
“Johnboy, shut the fuck up, this his goat fuck aw tae dae wae you, ya loser, ye…whit size is the clip, anyway?” he asked, sitting doon and untying his laces, tipping the heel ae his trainer, as the three ae them sat watching hauf the cinder ash fae the track trickle oot oan tae the grass.
“
Good evening. My name is John Turney and these are the news headlines in Scotland tonight.
There was tight
security
today at Glasgow Cathedral as members of the royal family
and
a whole host of the great and the good gathered for the wedding of
Beatrice, Archduchess of Austria-Este, ex-Duchess of Kyle, to Glasgow’s own Lord Frank Owen, proprietor of The Glasgow Echo and The Sunday Echo. In attendance were the Archduchess’s ex-husband, The Duke of Kyle and their beautiful daughter and lead bridesmaid, Lady Saba
Blair MacIain MacDonald, who was at the centre of a kidnap scare involving police forces from throughout Scotland back in 1969. It transpired that the fourteen-year-old Lady Saba left her romantic ancestral seat, Culrain Castle, in the Highlands to travel to her grandmother’s home in England without telling anyone. Lord Frank’s estranged ex-wife was not in attendance. The only glitch of the day came when the famous Glasgow Police World Championship Pipe Band’s van, carrying their bagpipes and drums, was stolen from the Rottenrow, where it was parked during the service, despite heavy security in the area. Unfortunately, the pipe band could not play and had to arrange public transport home, as the happy couple and guests left the cathedral into the bright sunshine. The bride wore a…
Colleagues and patients at The Western Infirmary were today mourning the death of thirty two year old Dr Bernard Walsh, who was found dead at his home in Hamilton Avenue, Pollockshields, this morning. It is believed that Dr Walsh committed suicide by hanging himself. A report has been sent to the procurator fiscal…
Police arrested eight women and thirteen of their clients in an upmarket brothel in the city’s West End late last night. A report has been sent to the procurator fiscal…”
Chapter Thirty Eight
Johnboy wis watching Silent’s back. His heid and shoulders wur bent forward. Johnboy could tell that he wis starting tae get anxious, as his sewing machine wis gaun like the clappers. It wis Friday and if they didnae blag the ammo clip that day, then Silent wid miss oot oan the show, as he wis aboot tae become the only barber in the nick, starting the following Monday morning. Although he hidnae said anything, aw The Mankys knew he wis desperate tae be involved, so wur praying this wis the day. Pat, who wis next door in the joinery shoap, hid been whinging aw week, demanding tae know whit the fuck wis happening. He said that the screws hid been gieing him funny looks fur hinging aboot the big planer machine up beside the door leading intae the sewing machine shoap. It hid taken a few days ae tweaking tae get their plans right oan how they wur gonnae blag the clip. Dockland Sammy hid been fair chuffed when they asked him tae be involved. At wan point, Tony hid tae tell him tae stoap looking doon at them in anticipation every time he came through fae the painters’ shoap next door.
“And fur Christ’s sake, slow doon, Sammy. Ye’re shooting through that door, pushing yer trolley in front ae ye like a spaniel, expecting tae find a bitch oan heat oan the other side ae the door,” Tony hid warned him.
It hidnae been difficult tae get the Barlanark and Carntyne/Garthamlock boys oan board as well. Everywan in the shoap wis happy enough wae the decision that the only YOs that wid be up at the table when Dockland Sammy appeared wid be The Mankys, the Garthamlock/Carntyne boys and the Barlanark crowd. Everywan else wid jist sit back and enjoy the show. Another problem tae sort oot hid been the number gaun up tae Stafford at any wan time. Usually, the YOs only went up tae the table in dribs and drabs, getting their bandoliers checked through quality control. It wis important tae hiv enough YOs staunin up in front ae Stafford, keeping him distracted, while whoever wis picking up and letting loose wae the clip, needed plenty ae cover fae being clocked by Dickheid Dick and The Tormentor up at The Beastie Boys’ table. Hivving jist a couple ae YOs up in front ae Stafford widnae be enough. This goat sorted oot when Johnboy spent two days convincing Silent that he wis the main man tae make that happen.
“Noo, listen up, Silent. Aw ye hiv tae dae is ask Stafford if there’s any chance ae him turning up the radio, so we kin aw hear the music oan Radio Wan. Tell him a happy workforce will always increase production.”
Silence.
“Look, Ah know whit ye’re thinking, bit he won’t tell ye tae piss aff. He thinks ye’re his number wan bum-boy wae the amount ae bandoliers that ye get through in a day. Ye’re Stafford’s brightest star in here, so ye ur. Fuck, look at him. He’s sick as a parrot that he’s losing ye,” Johnboy hid soothed.
Silence.
“Jist remember tae tell him that ye think that the turno’er will increase if the boys ur happy being able tae lug in tae the music,” Johnboy encouraged him, trying no tae get irritated by the deafening silence.
Silence.
“Fur fuck’s sake, Silent, trust me, Ah know whit Ah’m talking aboot here.”
Silence.
“So, will Ah get somewan else tae dae it then? Is that whit ye’re saying?”
Silence.
“Silent, dae ye want tae end up in the barber shoap, knowing we’re aw o’er here enjoying oorsels, upsetting the screws or dae ye want tae be here when it aw kicks aff?”
Silence.
“Look, it’ll only work if ye’ll dae whit Ah ask ye. There’s nae other way, so there isnae, so either help us oot, or don’t.”
Silent hidnae responded, bit hid jist turned roond, taking that happy vacant look wae him, and gone back tae his bandoliers. Tony and Snappy knew fae experience no tae butt in oan the conversation between Johnboy and Silent. A lot ae people thought, tae their cost, that because Silent wis quite, he must be stupid, bit he wis anything bit. He wis as sharp as a razor. Johnboy hid stoapped trying tae explain Silent long ago tae people who couldnae figure him oot. The Mankys aw knew that Silent took in exactly whit wis being said roond aboot him maist ae the time and he never, ever…well seldom ever, let anywan doon in a tight spot. Even though Silent could be sitting there, bang in the middle, being part ae whitever wis gaun oan or being planned amongst The Mankys, he gied ye the impression that he wis sitting somewhere else, a thick glass partition separating them, observing, taking in, bit no contributing, jist gaun alang wae whit wis being decided. It could be so frustrating. There wur times when it wis clear…at least, it wis tae Johnboy…that he didnae really agree wae whit hid been decided, bit it wis as if he couldnae bring himsel tae challenge or put forward his point ae view, despite Johnboy encouraging him o’er the years tae get stuck right in there. Johnboy knew that if he ever tried tae explain that tae anywan, it widnae make sense, bit he knew whit he wis talking aboot. Two hours efter Silent hid turned his back oan him that last time, he suddenly stood up wae a completed bundle and heided across tae Stafford. Everywan knew that it wis a done deal when Stafford jist aboot fell o’er in shock at Silent even acknowledging his presence, let alone actually talking tae him. Two minutes later, Stafford heided doon tae the office and turned the music up before sauntering back tae his post as everywan behind their machines howled oot ‘Goodbye ma friend, it’s hard tae die,’ as Terry Jacks mournfully bleated aboot the seasons in the sun, while aw the stoat-the-baws up the back stoapped whit they wur daeing tae stare at the mad choral society, wae their heids bent o’er, rattling oot bandoliers, twenty tae the dozen, in front ae them. Everywan in the shoap hid been primed tae increase their production if the music goat turned up and by the sound ae the machines whizzing away and the happy look oan Stafford’s face, it hid worked. The Barlanark crowd wur the first ae the YOs tae be approached tae be involved. Wan ae them wis hopeless oan the machine, bit the YOs roond aboot him passed across extra bandoliers tae him tae make up the deficit. The next morning, the Carntyne and Garthamlock boys started churning oot loads followed by The Mankys and Stu in the efternoon. Within two days, nowan blinked an eye tae see the table in front ae Stafford crowded wae YOs humming alang tae ’Ah Know Whit Ah Like’ by Genesis or ELO’s ‘Ma-Ma-Belle.’ It hid been while aw this prep wis gaun oan that two cracking opportunities hid come and gone. It hid been painful tae watch, particularly when Stafford actually turned his back oan the boys, leaving the clip sitting there screaming oot tae be picked up. The only problem wis that the timing wis wrang. Sammy hid entered the sewing machine shoap fae the painters’ next door, only tae be called back wae that trolley ae his. The other problem that hid tae be sorted oot wis nominating somewan tae distract Stafford. Whoever that wis, wid probably end up being the main suspect efter the clip disappeared. Silent wis a non-starter because his bandoliers wur always perfect and Stafford hardly gied them a second glance. The Carntyne boys volunteered, bit Tony wanted the face-tae-face wae Stafford tae be wan ae The Mankys. Johnboy, Tony, and Snappy spent hauf a morning gaun up individually, observing how Stafford reacted tae the completed bandoliers. It soon became clear that Stu’s work, although usually accepted by Stafford, wisnae always up tae scratch and Stafford always double-checked his completed bundles closely. Due tae Stafford’s misplaced trust in Silent’s work ethic, it wis Silent, much tae the annoyance ae Snappy, that hid been chosen tae staun doon wind ae Stafford’s gaze, snatching the clip up before sending it spiralling doon the table tae Dockland Sammy and his trolley at the far end. Johnboy wis glad that the responsibility hid been gied tae Silent. Although he didnae or couldnae say it, Silent hid been fair chuffed at being chosen. Everywan knew that it wid be a good farewell tae the sweatshoap, especially seeing how hard he’d worked tae ensure the army hid quality kit tae support them tae shoot people. By the Thursday morning, everything wis ready tae roll. Sammy hid strolled in, as per usual, bit far too slowly…farting aboot…talking tae the boys at the tap row ae machines fur too long, even when they wur ignoring him. Tony hid melted they ears ae his at lunchtime across in the dining hall. During the efternoon shift, Sammy hid goat it spot oan. Aw the Barlanark, Carntyne/Garthamlock, Mankys and Stu wur up at the table, bit Stafford hid kept the clip in his pocket. Oan the Friday morning, the same thing hid happened. They wur aw noo starting tae get desperate. They knew they’d get the clip eventually, bit everywan wanted tae get a haud ae it before Silent left fur his new job. It being Silent’s last day, everywan wanted tae be involved in a wee celebration. Oan the Friday efternoon, the tea break came and went and there wis still nae sign ae Sammy. At hauf three…nothing. At quarter tae four…nothing. Everywan wis frantically looking at the clock above the office because the machines goat switched aff at four o’clock. Then, at ten tae four, the paint shoap door finally opened and Dockland Sammy appeared. Everywan could tell he knew fine well he’d be blamed if Silent didnae get his chance tae get wan o’er oan Stafford. It wis written aw o’er that face ae his.
“Ah hope he keeps his cool and takes it easy,” Tony scowled at Johnboy, as Sammy leaned o’er tae talk tae wan ae the boys, who let oot a laugh at whit he’d come oot wae.
So far, so good. It wis Silent that stood up first and casually heided tae the table wae a bundle ae bandoliers, quickly followed by a couple ae the Carntyne boys. Wance they’d reached the table, wan ae the Garthamlock YOs bent o’er and lifted up his finished bundles. Tony and Snappy followed suit. Jist as they goat tae the table tae await Stafford’s inspection, the rest ae the Carntyne and Barlanark YOs stood up, at the same time as Johnboy. It hid been agreed that nowan except fur Johnboy wid be allowed tae keep an eye oan whit wis happening up wae Dockland Sammy. Everywan wis tae focus oan whit wis gaun oan at the quality control table in front ae them. Johnboy looked up tae the back ae the shoap oan route tae the table. Sammy wis talking tae somewan else. Dickheid Dick and The Tormentor wur engrossed in talking tae the beasts. Bliss, the other broon-coated screw wis bent o’er, peering at the cloth-cutter, as Peter the Pervert wis attempting tae dislodge a bit ae cloth that wis jammed oan the cutting blade. When Johnboy arrived at the table, Stafford wis slipping the clip intae the bullet pouches, grunting wae satisfaction, before throwing the acceptable bandoliers into a big square canvas bag behind him. Johnboy wisnae sure if it wis his heart he could hear thumping or the heart ae Stu, who wis staunin oan his left, waiting fur his turn. Wan ae the Carntyne YOs received a grunt ae approval fae Stafford before casually turning aroond, and strolling back tae his machine. Stu haunded o’er three bundles, the middle wan containing a couple ae deliberate duffers. Stafford hardly glanced at the first wan, before picking up the second bundle. Aw the YOs leaned forward, haudin oan tae the bundles in front ae them in anticipation. Everywan wis following Stafford’s hauns as he slipped the clip intae every third or fourth bandoleer pouch. Fae where Johnboy wis staunin, the bullets in the clip looked the size ae torpedoes. Suddenly there wis a pause, a frown, and Stafford wrenched oot a bandoleer fae the middle ae the tied bundle as Little Richard let rip wae the first twelve bars ae ‘Lucille’ fae the speakers up oan the wall.
“Hmm…” Stafford murmured, trying tae push the clip intae wan ae the pouches, bit failing. “Hmm…” he murmured again, laying the clip doon oan the table as he inserted two fingers fae each haun, pulling the pouch apart wae aw his strength, the bandolier stretched across his chest.
It aw seemed tae happen in slow motion, although Johnboy knew that if anywan hid blinked, they wid’ve missed it. Dockland Sammy wis in place. Johnboy nodded tae Silent. Silent casually reached across the divide between him and Stafford, shielding the clip wae the back ae his haun. In whit seemed like a fantastic deceleration ae sound and reality, where Little Richard’s voice took oan this really slow, twisted, subterranean growling sound, Silent slid the bullet cartridge back and away fae his body by aboot fifteen inches, before letting it fly, as the sound ae Little Richard’s voice and piano accelerated back tae normal. The cartridge skited alang the table in a blur, like an ice hockey puck, towards Sammy, as everywan staunin in the row snatched their bundles up aff the table, nae mair than a couple ae inches, in a fraction ae a second each, tae let the clip whizz by them, straight intae the ootstretched haun ae Dockland Sammy, jist before his escort screw turned roond fae opening the door tae let him disappear through tae the joinery shoap. Johnboy wis still staunin wae Tony, Snappy, Silent and the other YOs, when Stafford, withoot taking his eyes aff the bandolier he wis inspecting, stretched oot his erm, his fingers splayed, trying tae pick up the clip fae the table. It wis hypnotic. Eight sets ae eyes wur transfixed oan the crab-like fingers ae the haun, as they searched blindly and fumbled fur something that wisnae there. Johnboy looked alang the line and fixed his gaze oan the face ae wan ae the Carntyne boys. The laughter in the eyes said it aw.
“Right, boys, lift up yer bundles, Ah’ve lost ma measuring tool,” Stafford said, pushing bundles ae bandoliers oot ae the way, a puzzled frown appearing across his coupon. “Hiv any ae youse picked it up?” he asked, surprise and panic in that voice ae his, looking at the row ae YOs in front ae him, aw looking like butter widnae melt in their lying-faced gubs.
“Whit dis it look like?” Silent asked, oot ae the blue, as a few ae the weak-willed, undisciplined wans, burst oot laughing.
“Whit? Whit wis that?” Stafford demanded, as he continued wae his rummaging.
Stafford’s over-the-tap panic wis a picture for aw tae see, as he blindly scattered the piles ae bandoliers aw o’er the table, that wur piled up in front ae him. The poor basturt wis starting tae sound like a chicken that hid jist goat a finger thrust up its arse.