“Crisscross, ye better take Jinty up tae The Royal and get that checked oot. Me and Liam will deal wae these two wee fannies.”
“Nae bother, Jim.”
“And Crisscross, ye kin turn aff that flashing blue light.”
“Pinkston Road?” Big Jim asked.
“Aye, let’s see whit these wee basturts hiv tae say fur themselves, and make sure ye go o’er every bloody pothole that ye kin find oan the road.”
Big Jim turned the Black Maria aroond and heided back doon McAslin Street tae St James Road, stoaping oan route tae pick up the stolen swag that wis scattered across the road. A squad car wis sitting ootside the tobacconists. The van drew up alangside and The Sarge let his windae doon.
“Awright, Jack?” he asked.
“Aye, Liam, we’re jist waiting fur the owner and a joiner.”
“It’s unbelievable that some ae these shoapkeepers hivnae installed alarms aboot here,” The Sarge said, glancing o’er at the broken windae.
“Blame the insurance companies. They let them away wae murder,” Big Jim chimed in fae the driver’s seat.
“Dae we know who dunnit?” Jack’s partner, Tommy, asked.
“We’ve goat two ae the wee basturts in the back here,” Big Jim replied.
“Aye, they took a lump oot ae Jinty and Crisscross is taking him up tae The Royal as we speak. He’ll probably need a stitch or two,” The Sarge added.
“The wee fuckers!” Jack growled, opening his car door, bit The Sarge stoapped him.
“Naw, naw, Jack, you stay where ye ur, son. We’re aff up tae the Stinky Ocean tae hiv a wee chat wae them,” The Sarge informed them.
“Ur ye sure? Ah kin leave Tommy here fur a wee bit and come up wae ye,” Jack volunteered.
“Naw, naw, ye better stay here in case The Inspector turns up. We’ll catch ye later and let ye know whit’s happening.”
“Nae bother. Gie the wee shitehooses wan fur us while ye’re at it,” Jack shouted as Big Jim put the van intae gear and heided through the traffic lights intae Dobbies loan, turning right intae Kyle Street and alang Baird Street tae the bascule bridge o’er the canal that connected Pinkston Road tae the tap end ae Glebe Street.
Paul sat bouncing aboot in the back ae the van, trying tae spit oot aw the fire-ash fae his mooth. Joe lay oan the flair where he’d been dumped, still clutching his guts. They could hear everything that hid been said since the van left McAslin Street, bit neither ae them hid said a word tae each other. The inside ae the van smelled strongly ae shite, cats pish, fireplace ash and wis painted a dirty yellow. There wur auld blood splashes oan different parts ae the insides and the door hid a bloody smudge that looked as though it hid been made by somewan’s heid or the side ae their face bouncing aff ae it.
“Ur ye okay, Joe?” Paul whispered.
“Aye, apart fae ma guts where that basturt booted me. Whit aboot yersel?”
“Ah’m fine, other than Ah smell like an altar boy at a tom cat’s wedding.”
“How dae ye think the bizzies goat there so soon?”
“Ah don’t know, bit it wis definitely an ambush. They knew we wur heiding their way.”
“Whit happened tae Tony and that Johnboy wan?”
“Tony heided through the first close. Ah followed Johnboy wae that skelly-eyed basturt, Crisscross, up ma arse. Ah saw Tony disappear o’er the dyke first, bit it wis too crowded wae me behind Johnboy and Squinty Eyes jist behind me. When Ah saw Ah wisnae gonnae make it, Ah jist curled up intae a baw, hoping he’d miss me. The stupid basturt tripped o’er me bit still managed tae get his legs wrapped roond ma heid.”
“Aye, the lucky basturts, eh?” Joe whispered miserably.
“Whit’s the score noo?” asked Paul.
“They’re taking us up tae the Stinky Ocean tae gie us a hiding. Ah kin smell it even o’er the cats pish.”
“Listen, we’ll say we saw the other two running aff wae the stuff and we chased efter them tae take it aff ae them,” Paul said.
“And we don’t know who they ur and ye kept oan running because ye panicked when ye saw me getting jumped,” Joe continued.
“Did ye hear whit they wur saying aboot wan ae the bizzies being taken up tae The Royal?” Paul whispered even mair quietly.
“Aye, whit’s aw that aboot?”
“That skelly basturt came running up behind me, aw batons blazing, and scudded that shitey Jobby wan oan the tap ae his napper,” Paul whispered.
“So, whit the fuck his that tae dae wae us then?” asked Joe.
“They think it wis us.”
“Oh fuck!”
Chapter Five
“Whit time dae ye call this then?” Johnboy’s ma shouted at him.
“Look at the state ae ye,” his da said, as the baith ae them glared at Johnboy.
“Where the hell hiv ye been tae this time ae night, eh? It’s eleven o’clock and ye’ve goat school the morra.”
“Ah’ve been oot.”
“Ah know ye’ve been oot, bit where hiv ye been?” his ma demanded.
“Playing wae ma pals.”
“D’ye see whit Ah’ve tae put up wae? Dae ye?” she shouted, snarling at Jimmy.
“Hiv ye hid yer tea?” his da asked him.
“Naw.”
“Right, get o’er there and eat yer cauld mince and totties. They’re oan a plate oan tap ae the sink.”
“Is that it?” Helen demanded, hauns held up in front ae her, exasperated.
“Whit?”
“Get o’er there and get yer tea? Get yer tea? So, that’s it, is it?”
“Aye, and when ye’re finished, straight tae bed,” his da said, looking at his ma oot ae the corner ae his eyes.
“Go and get yer tea and then get tae bed?” she repeated in disbelief, raising her voice and eyebrows.
“Aw, fur Christ’s sake, Helen, whit ur ye wanting me tae dae?” he shot back as Johnboy used a spoon tae scoop the mince fae his plate oan tae a slice ae breid tae make a mince and tottie piece.
“Well, ye might want tae skelp his arse or even better, take a belt tae it,” she retorted.
“Aye, that’ll teach him,” his da said sarcastically as he tucked The Evening Times under his erm and heided tae the cludgie. “Don’t wait up fur me, darling, Ah might be a while.”
“See the trouble ye’re causing?” she snarled, looking o’er at Johnboy while he sensibly kept his trap shut, apart fae opening it tae take another bite ae his mince and tottie piece. “Fae noo oan, Ah’ll be dishing oot the justice aroond here, so ye better start bucking up yer ideas, pretty pronto, or ye’re gonnae suffer the consequences. Believe you me, Johnboy, if ye think Ah’m kidding, you jist try me.”
Johnboy finished scoffing his piece and walked gingerly towards the door, keeping oot ae erms reach.
“Did ye hear whit Ah jist said?” she snarled threateningly.
“Aye.”
“Aye, whit?”
“Aye, Ah heard whit ye said, Ma,” Johnboy said, as he managed tae get oot through the door wae the hair oan his heid still intact.
“Jimmy, Ah cannae believe you sometimes,” Helen said as they lay in the darkness an hour later.
“Whit?”
“Don’t you start. Ah get enough ae that fae him. You know whit Ah’m talking aboot.”
“Johnboy?”
“Aye, who else ur we talking aboot?”
“Helen, he’s hame and he’s in his bed.”
“Aye, bit that’s no the point.”
“So, whit is the point?”
“The point is that Ah’m here oan ma ain aw day wae the three lassies and Johnboy and he’s running rings roond me and ye’re no daeing anything aboot it.”
“So, whit dae ye want me tae dae? It seems tae me the problem is you.”
“Aw, fur Christ’s sake, Jimmy, Ah cannae believe ye jist said that,” Helen sniffed, turning o’er and propping herself up oan her elbow.
“Whit did Ah say noo?”
“It’s okay fur you…being oot ae the hoose aw day at yer work. At least ye get a break fae it aw.”
“Aye, Ah’m sorry. Ah didnae mean it the way it sounded.”
“Aye, Ah know, bit ye’ll need tae take him in haun or he’s gonnae end up like Charlie.”
“Naw, that’s wan thing aboot Johnboy...he’s nae a fighter, that wan.”
“Naw, bit it’s whit he’s getting up tae and who he’s wae efter school that’s the problem.”
“Helen, stoap getting yersel intae a tizzy. Ah’ll speak tae him when Ah get back oan Friday.”
“Aye, bit Ah want him kept in. You didnae hiv tae face Batty Smith. Ah’ve never been able tae look him in the eye since Charlie put wan oan him. It’s bloody embarrassing, seeing as Ah work as a cleaner in the school.”
“Batty disnae haud that against ye or ye wid’ve been oot oan yer arse a long time ago. Ah think ye’re exaggerating the problem,” Jimmy said as he yawned, turned o’er and put his erm roond her hip.
Chapter Six
“Right, ye know where ye’re gaun?” Helen asked Johnboy, wetting her finger in her mooth before picking a dried snotter aff ae his cheek wae her fingernail.
“Aw, Ma!” Johnboy howled, feeling the skin being torn aff his face withoot the use ae anaesthetic.
“Hiv ye goat yer bus tokens?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“And ye’ll remember tae ask the receptionist tae gie ye tokens fur yer fare hame?”
“Aye.”
“And ye know tae get the number eleven or an eleven A oan Parly Road?”
“Aye.”
“And ye get aff at the second stoap oan Garngad Road?”
“Aye.”
“Barr Street is the second street alang oan the right, jist before ye hit Royston Road.”
“Aye.”
“Jist beside The Baby Rock School.”
“Aye.”
“And ye’ve goat the envelope wae the form in it?”
“Aye.”
“And ye’ll be straight back hame efter school later?”
“Aye.”
“And hiv Ah goat two heids?”
“Whit?”
“Never mind.”
Johnboy swithered whether tae heid roond by St James’s Road oan the way tae the bus stoap or no. He wondered if the bizzies wid still be hinging aboot the shoap and wis worried aboot whit wid happen if they recognised him fae the previous night. They might be in hiding, waiting tae clock if anywan who’d done it wid be back? It wis too risky, he thought and decided he’d jist go in by Sherbet’s and get himsel a liquorice sherbet fur the bus.
“Awright, Sherbet?” Johnboy greeted him.
“Awright, wee man. Whit kin Ah dae ye oot ae?”
“Ah’ll hiv a sherbet, Sherbet.”
“Noo, if it wis anywan else who’d said that, Ah’d think they wur taking the pish.”
“Naw, naw, it’s the wee yellow packet wae the liquorice sticking oot the tap ae it,” Johnboy said.
“Ur ye sure ye don’t want a wee bit ae Madeira cake?” Sherbet asked slyly, eyes narrowing.
Johnboy could feel his arse twitch, especially when Sherbet’s brother, Abdul, came oot ae Madeira Cake Avenue and stood leaning oan Johnboy’s side ae the coonter, looking at him, eyeing him up withoot saying a word. There wis nowan else in the shoap.
“Naw, Ah’ve only goat enough fur a sherbet, Sherbet.”
Oh shite, hid he jist said whit he thought he jist said?
“Ah think wee Johnboy here is at it and is taking the pish oot ae us, Sherbet,” Abdul said, the whites ae his eyeballs peeking oot through they slitted eyelids ae his.
“Who wur the big boys Ah saw ye hinging aboot wae last night?” Sherbet wanted tae know.
“Whit boys?”
“The wee retards that wur seen munching intae a Madeira cake.”
“Ah spoke tae some boys who Ah hardly know who wur hinging aboot, bit Ah didnae see them eating a Madeira cake,” Johnboy replied, wondering whit a retard wis.
“Well, if ye see them again, tell them they owe us three fingers…each,” Abdul hissed.
“That’ll be thrupence,” Sherbet demanded, snapping his fingers and magically producing the packet oot ae naewhere oan tae the coonter.
Johnboy wis dying tae ask him how he did that bit thought he’d better no push his luck.
Efter escaping unscathed fae Sherbet’s, it wis jist a case ae nipping through the closemooth beside the shoap, doon the back stairs, o’er the wall, oot oan tae Parly Road and the bus stoap wis jist opposite. Johnboy wis dying tae nip back across the road and hiv a wee peek aroond the corner tae see whit wis happening, bit the bus hid jist arrived. He nipped up the stair like a whippet oan heat and took a seat at the front right haun side tae gie him a good view. The bus took aff bit stoapped deid, twenty feet further oan at the traffic lights. The bus took aff again slowly and jist when he wis aboot tae hiv a good gander at whit wis happening at the tobacconist’s, the clippie arrived.
“Fares please!”
“Er, hing oan the noo, will ye?” he mumbled, ignoring her.
“Fares pleasssse!” she insisted, tapping him between they shoulder blades ae his.
“Jist a minute,” he retorted, ignoring her.
“Naw, you ‘jist a minute’ yersel.”
He wis forced tae turn roond, jist as the bus went through the lights, so he missed seeing whit wis happening at the shoap. He wis right though...the clippie’s voice matched her coupon. She wis the spitting image ae the auld ma who sat in the rocking chair in the film ‘Psycho’, so she wis.
“Where ur ye gaun then?” snarled Cruella de Vil.
If the Dalmatians hid clocked this wan they wid’ve demanded tae be taken back tae be skinned, he thought tae himsel.
“Ah’m oan school business,” he declared, sitting up straight, trying tae sound as if he wis oan an important scientific exercise, because his ma hid telt him no tae tell anywan where he wis aff tae.
“Naw, Ah meant, where ur ye getting aff, ya
bampot, ye?”
“Oh, right, er, The Baby Rock.”
“That’ll be a tanner.”
“Right, let’s see,” he said, as he produced his wee plastic tokens oot ae his pocket and looked at them.
There wis a red wan worth tuppence, a broon wan worth thrupence and a cream wan worth tuppence ha’penny.
“Aw that cheek and carry oan and ye don’t even hiv real money,” The Wicked Witch Ae The West snorted, tapping her fit and letting oot a hurumph every five seconds wae they toothless gums ae hers.
“That wae that and that wae that,” he said oot loud. “Naw, that wae that and...”
“Hoi, Ritchie Rich, Ah’ve no goat aw day, ye know. Ah’ve goat real passengers waiting fur me tae take real money aff ae them, so Ah hiv.”
He wis dying tae tell her tae go and torment some poor lion oot at Glesga Zoo, bit he wis too feart, so he jist held oot his haun tae her wae the tokens oan display. Withoot another bit ae cheek oot ae her, she swiped them aff his palm, rolled oot a ticket, threw it at him and started tae walk away.
“Er, excuse me, missus, whit aboot ma change?”
She turned, gieing him the evil eye, then disappeared doon the stairs muttering aboot whit a cheeky wee basturt he wis.
The bus turned left intae Castle Street and then right intae the Garngad wance it goat o’er the Nolly bridge. Two stoaps further alang, The Baby Rock came intae view oan his right haun side. Johnboy wis jist swaying alang the tap deck, heiding fur the stairs tae get aff when Granny Happiness shouted up the stairs.
“Passenger fur the scabies clinic!”
“Up the stair and first oan the left,” the talking typewriter said when he rung the white button beside the wee windae, jist in fae the main door.
He stood hesitating, looking aboot, hauf in anticipation ae a repeat performance fae the tick-tack voice that hid wafted oot ae the faceless windae in front ae him. As he couldnae see anywan, he wisnae sure if it wis a machine that spoke when he pressed the button or no. He wis tempted tae press the button again jist tae see whit wid happen, bit thought better ae it as Clatter Voice sounded as if she or the machine didnae take shite fae anywan. When he arrived at the second wee windae up oan the second flair, he wis fair chuffed no tae see a face looking oot at him. He wanted tae test oot whether these buttons started a machine, like in Dr Who, so he gied the button a longer stab wae his finger this time. Olive Oyl said that the future wid aw be run by robots. Suddenly a haun appeared through the windae and snapped its fingers, though he still couldnae see if it wis attached tae a face. A couple ae the fingers wur stained dark broon so he wisnae sure if the machine hid been fixing itself or if the owner hid been scratching her arse. He haunded the haun his envelope and it disappeared back through fae wherever it hid come fae. He wis concentrating tae see if he could hear the whirring ae its motor when it spoke.
“Plant yer arse oan the bench in that room o’er there and don’t touch anything.”
Aboot ten days later, a wummin, who wis definitely no a machine bit sounded like a foghorn, arrived oan the scene.
“Turn roond and let me see that back ae yours,” Mrs Foghorn Leghorn barked, nearly causing him tae shite in they ripped breeks ae his in fright.
He couldnae understaun why the hell she wis shouting, given that he wis staunin jist in front ae her. He twirled aroond oan wan leg, hoping tae impress her while at the same time pulling his shirt right up tae his neck.
“Aye,” she shouted tae confirm her worst suspicion. “Noo, yer front.”
She wis bent o’er in front ae him wae her face aboot an inch fae his pigeon chest. He assumed she wis that close because she wis blind or something. When he looked doon, apart fae clocking the biggest paps he’d ever clapped eyes oan, he noticed her specs wur aboot hauf an inch thick, jist like the bottom ae an Irn Bru bottle.
“Right, through that door and take yer clothes aff,” she hollered, following him in.
There wur four fancy showers sticking oot ae the wall. He undressed and stood there, covering himsel wae his hauns.
“Right, get o’er here and get under that shower,” Mrs Megaphone shouted tae everywan in the building and the surrounding streets, turning oan the water.
In front ae each shower, there wis whit looked like big paint tin lids, turned upside doon wae thick black tarry stuff in them.
“See that stuff there?” she bellowed, pointing tae the paint tin lids.
“Aye,” he replied hesitantly, ears ringing.
“That’s soap, so it is. Dae ye know whit soap is?”
“Aye.”
“Ur ye sure?”
“Aye.”
“Well, get a big dollop ae that oan baith ae yer hauns and get tore right intae it.”
He wis waiting until she disappeared before he started, bit she finally convinced him that she widnae be seeing anything she hidnae clocked before.
“Right, c’moan, ya manky wee toad. Ah hivnae goat aw day and make sure ye get yer fingers intae aw they cracks,” she bawled.
Wance he wis under the water it wisnae too bad and he actually started tae enjoy himsel. He even started humming the Otis Reading version ae ‘Satisfaction’ by The Rolling Stones that his big sister Isabelle preferred, which turned oot tae be a big mistake. He reckoned Mrs Foghorn Leghorn wisnae intae that version, nor his fancy feet and legwork as he pranced and jived aboot under the shower, humming contentedly tae himsel, wae a heid full ae soapy bubbles that wur flying aw o’er the place. Jist as he came oot and wis drying himsel aff wae a towel made ae Brillo pads, another big wummin in a white coat arrived oan the scene and asked if he wis ready.
“O’er here and let me see ye,” shouted you-know-who, followed by, “Christ almighty, is that no the biggest, thickest and widest tide mark oan a scrawny neck we’ve seen in a long time, Nora? Ah wish Ah hid ma camera.”
Even though he wisnae too sure whit they wur oan aboot, he wisnae gonnae chance it by asking fur a shot ae a mirror so he could see whit aw the admiration wis aboot.
“Aye, it is that, Peggy, and him built like a pipe cleaner as well,” Nora snorted.
“Right, Blackie, back in there and get that neck ae yours scrubbed clean wae that sponge and use plenty ae soap this time and hurry up. Then, ye’ll need tae get dried,” bellowed the air raid siren. “And don’t furget they feet…they’re bloody mockit, so they ur!”
“Right, Blackie, jist staun in there,” his new pal, Nora, said, pointing tae a big giant sardine tin can. “Ye kin leave yer towel oan the chair and ye’ll get it when Ah’m finished.”
That last bit made him feel a wee bit wary. Finished wae whit? It wis then he clocked the bucket ae white paint she hid in wan haun and the six inch paint brush in the other. He knew then that he wis in fur a treat ae some sort. Big Mooth, wae the bottle glasses and ootsize paps, wis staunin in the doorway, so a mad dash fur freedom wis oot ae the question.
“Right, this might feel a wee bit cauld tae start wae, especially oan the auld crown jewels,” his ex-pal said, as she dipped the brush intae the paint tin and splurged a great big white line fae his neck, doon his chest and legs tae his feet, in wan stroke.
She’d obviously hid plenty ae experience ae the painting and decorating game because she went at it like a journeyman. It wisnae as bad as he thought it wid be when he first saw the six incher in her mitt. Her and Mrs Foghorn Leghorn seemed tae take great pleasure whenever Nora wid turn the bristles oan tae their side and jiggle them up and doon furiously between the cracks ae his arse, laughing like wummin possessed at the sound ae his yelping when the white paint stuff stung his arsehole. Johnboy definitely widnae be recommending a visit tae the scabby clinic tae anywan, unless it wis tae somewan like Fat Arse Milne and his pals. He must’ve done okay though because Mrs Leghorn hid done a disappearing act when the show wis o’er and Nora telt him tae get dressed as he wis finished fur the day.
The haun wis still hinging aboot at the windae when he came oot wae his clothes glued tae him.
“Er, Ah think Ah’m supposed tae pick up bus tokens tae get hame.”