Dumfries (14 page)

  “
Good evening.  My name is John Turney and these are the news headlines in Scotland tonight. 

  A twenty-eight-year-old man found collapsed with gunshot wounds in the early hours of this morning, in the Gallowgate district of the city, was found to be dead on arrival at The Royal Infirmary, a hospital spokesman confirmed…

  A debt collector for the Clydesdale Provident Company is recovering in hospital after being attacked and robbed at knifepoint in Govan last night.  It is believed the assailants made off with several hundred pounds…

  A man who believed he could fly has died in Glasgow Royal Infirmary of his injuries.  Twenty-five-year-old Mr James Johnston, leapt from the nineteenth floor of a multi-storey block of flats in Sighthill last night.  Despite efforts by police and fire brigade officials to talk him down, using loudhailers, Mr Johnston insisted he knew what he was doing and waved to the crowd below, before diving from the window ledge.  It’s believe that Mr Johnston had consumed a large amount of hallucinogenic drugs a few hours earlier before police were called.  Miraculously, it appeared that Mr Johnston was still alive and conscious, although in great pain, after he landed on top of a police squad car, but unfortunately, died soon after admission to The Royal Infirmary…

  An eventide home for the elderly in Knightswood has been quarantined after a suspected outbreak of food poisoning. Eleven patients were admitted to the Victoria Hospital in a fleet of ambulances.  Police have arrested the owners of Heavenly Harmony, Mr and Mrs Douglas Cairns, after Corporation Sanitary Officer, Elvis Presley, took away the contents of the home’s fridge and freezers.  The old folks home on…

  Figures show that the murder detection rate in the city has risen for the third quarter in a row.  The city’s Assistant Chief Constable Jack Tipple has praised the dedication of the men of Scotland’s largest Police force as truly professional…

A father of four was fined twenty pounds today at the Marine District Court for assaulting his common-law wife by punching her in front of her mother and neighbours over a dispute concerning his drinking…

Three generations of the one family will appear in court in the morning after being arrested for brawling in the street and committing a breach of the peace.  Eleven members of the Carmichael family from Gardedie Street in the city’s Blackhill district  fell out over the ownership of a horse named Norman.  Whilst the whole family were arrested and are spending the night behind bars, the horse was last seen grazing in nearby wasteland totally oblivious to the commotion that ensued earlier in the day…

  Doctors at Glasgow Royal Infirmary have informed the family of mother-of-two Sheila Campbell, who was admitted with severe face and head injuries, that her chances of recovery are slim.  Police have already charged Mrs Campbell’s husband with attempted murder when he appeared up in court on Monday…”

Chapter Twelve

  George Crawford gently tipped the spout ae his wee watering can and watched the clear liquid pour oot intae the first ae the three pots, staunin tae attention alang the windae ledge in his office.  It wis clear that it hid been a while since he’d last watered his cactus plants, which left him feeling a tad guilty.  The soil in the pots hid dried oot and hardened, rebuffing the water, causing the liquid tae run across the tap ae it and spill o’er the edge ae the pot, creating a wee puddle oan the white painted sill.  He smiled.  A few years earlier, he wid’ve goat himsel intae a right auld tizzy and taken it oot oan whoever wis within range ae him, whether it wis a prison officer, an inmate, or his dear and beloved wife, Alison.  Noo, he eased back oan the upturned spout and moved oan tae the next pot, patiently allowing whit wis left ae the escaping liquid in the first pot an opportunity tae soak and gurgle in tae the resisting, rock solid hard soil.  He sighed contently.
He didnae take too kindly tae resistance.  He’d hid tae learn o’er the past few years that aw resistance wisnae necessarily bad though.  He felt he could noo make a distinction between natural resistance, nature’s gentle reminder that there wur always other forces at work, and those who resisted simply because they wur a threat tae the natural order ae things.
He focussed oan the second pot, this time observing and appreciating the characteristics ae the soil.  The edge ae the lightly bleached dirt hid separated fae the sides ae the pot as it hid dried oot.  He hidnae noticed that oan the first wan, and glanced back at the wet sodden soil in the first pot tae check it oot.  The newly wet soil hid started tae expand in places and wis noo touching the sides.  He advanced closer tae pot number two, and ever so gently tipped the spout forward.  A rush ae water spat oot ae it and in his panic tae stoap a repeat performance ae the first pot, he tried tae level the can in his haun too abruptly, which in turn, caused the water no only tae schoosh oot aw o’er the tap ae the second pot, bit sent a squirt ae water up the glass ae the windae pane behind the bars before it also joined the overflowing, growing puddle oan the sill.

  “Oh, for goodness sake!” he muttered between clenched teeth.

  He stood back, eyes narrowing, watching and listening, trying tae ignore the rat-a-tat-tat sound, ae the irritating drips landing oan his polished wooden floor, creating the birthing ae another messy puddle.

  He shut his eyes and counted tae five before inhaling deeply, while haudin the watering can by the haundle, and the spout at the same time.  He tilted his heid o’er tae the left ever so gently and studied the contents ae the third pot.  Everything wis as he expected.  The separation ae the shrunken dry soil fae the side ae the pot, the wee gap that hid led him intae a false sense ae security wae the first two, pretending that it could take mair water than it obviously could, wis sitting there, waiting tae trip him up.  He smiled.  He’d goat a measure ae whit needed tae be done noo.  He remembered his father showing him, as a boy, how tae pour petrol oot ae a gallon container.  Rather than jist jump in, as he’d done wae the first pot, he needed tae pour the liquid oot ae the spout at a forty five degree angle, gently, avoiding the weight ae the water in the base ae the can being propelled forward, allowing gravity tae snatch away his control.  He shook his heid, flexed his neck and stood up straight, clasping the can in baith hauns, close tae his body this time, and slowly…very slowly…used his stomach tae control the forward motion ae the can.  He held his breath, as a gentle slow trickle appeared fae the spout and started tae disappear between the side ae the pot and the baked, dry soil.  Wae his tongue peeking oot ae the side ae they lips ae his, acting as a rudder, he gently bent forward, jist tipping the watering can ever so slightly wae his stomach, as he applied the right consistency ae body pressure, controlling his forward motion wae his toes, tae gie the water a mair controlled flow.  Jist as the rising water in the pot quietly gurgled and appeared level wae the surface ae the soil, a sudden thumping oan his office door startled him aff balance, causing the contents ae the watering can tae surge oot ae the opening oan the tap ae it, overflowing the plant pot before the water gushed oan tae his awready flooded windae ledge.  No only that, bit the front ae his beige, cavalry twill troosers, jist above his knees and below his belt buckle, hid turned a sodden dark broon colour.

  “What?” he howled, jumping back, attempting tae avoid the water, bit spilling mair ae it oan tae the flair at his feet, as the synthetic soles ae they cheap shoes ae his, hid him running oan the spot like the clappers, skiting aw o’er the flair like a hopelessly drunk ice skater.

  “Father Leonard and Miss, er, Mrs Flaw, Governor,” Miss Beaker chirped fae the other side ae the door, as he managed tae grab the radiator tae stoap himsel landing oan that clumsy arse ae his.

  “Uh, oh…ask them to wait,” he spluttered, dashing across the office tae the Kleenex box oan his desk.

  It wis nae good.  He’d hiv tae remain seated, he thought, dabbing at his crotch wae a haundful ae tissues.  Before he went and anchored in that chair ae his, he quickly bent o’er and dragged the rug fae beside his coffee table and slid it under the windae tae stoap the noise ae the dripping water oan tae the polished flair boards.  He sat back and closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, haudin it doon fur a full ten seconds before exhaling.  When he opened his eyes, apart fae the floaters scattering in aw directions, he felt a lot calmer.  He stood up and walked across tae the pot plants and lifted them up.  Still dripping, he upturned the contents intae his green tin waste paper bin, before drapping the empty pots oan tap ae the wet soil.  Efter repeating his breathing exercise, he placed his elbows oan the desk and rubbed his eyes wae the tips ae his manicured fingers.  The breathing exercises helped him, as did the yoga classes him and Alison hid started attending a year earlier.  The coonsellor hid encouraged them tae dae things thegither, tae go oot fur meals and walks, tae take up and share a hobby.  Dumfries hid been perfect fur that.  Very few people wur aware that he wis the cuckolded husband ae the senior social worker who’d hid a lurid affair wae a big–time Glesga gangster a few years earlier, or if they did, they never mentioned it in front ae him.  Even though Alison hid made the initial move at a reconciliation, he’d spurned her advances, efter the children hid come tae him wae the article that hid appeared in The Glesga Echo, wae Alison expressing her guilt and sorrow at whit she’d done tae him.  If they hidnae turned up wae it, he widnae hiv known aboot it.  He’d stoapped reading the newspapers due tae the lurid stories highlighting aw the men she wis supposed tae hiv bedded during their twenty years ae marriage.  Wan day it wid be a prison officer, the next a prisoner, then the milkman, coalman, fruit and veg man.  God, there hid even been a claim by a wan-legged, wan-eyed ex-offender dwarf, who claimed tae hiv been there and back tae tell the tale.  The humiliation hid been so overpowering, that he’d contemplated suicide oan numerous occasions.  He hidnae opened his living room curtains fur four months due tae his shot nerves no being able tae cope wae the loud clinking ae the empty vodka bottles, every time he attempted tae walk across his living room flair tae open them.  If it hidnae been fur his faith in God and the support fae Creeping Jesus, the Polmont Borstal minister at the time, he wis convinced that he widnae hiv made it.  It hid been jist o’er a year previously, a month efter returning tae work, that he’d goat the Dumfries promotion.  It couldnae hiv come at a better time.  It hid been while he wis clearing oot the hoose that he’d come across the newspaper article that hid salvaged their marriage and saved his life.  As soon as he’d read it, he’d decided there and then that he still loved her, despite her shameless, sinful adultery.  It hid taken a further month ae gaun cold turkey, taking cauld baths and getting the hoose cleared oot, before the good Lord hid helped him tae track her doon.  She’d been working wae deaf and dumb children, jist ootside Dumbarton.  Efter a further month ae their two grown-up children acting as go-betweens, they’d finally met up.  Although she wis noo semi-invalided, hivving lost the power ae speech, she’d made it clear that if she wis tae come back, he wid need tae dae a course oan whit she called ‘anger management.’  He’d been dumbfounded.  Despite protesting that he’d never, ever, lifted his hauns in anger towards her and the children, she’d been adamant.  Efter his initial resistance, she’d persuaded him that his anger and aggression wis whit the so-called professionals called passive.  Wae trepidation in that open heart ae his, he’d eventually gied in and attended hauf a dozen sessions wae some useless American psychologist fae the Holy Loch naval base, who wis clearly a lesbian, if he’d ever seen wan.  It hid been a complete waste ae time, of course, bit it hid allowed him tae ascertain whit no tae dae when he wis in her presence, that seemed tae upset her.  Despite the fact that their sex life hid never rekindled efter getting back thegither, due tae him losing his erection every time he clocked the gunshot scar oan her neck jist before penetration, they’d persisted.  He felt that it wid only be a matter ae time, as he’d been quite close recently tae getting that helmet ae his in before the inevitable flop occurred.  He wis grateful that she seemed tae understaun where he wis coming fae psychologically.  At first, when Alison came back, she’d worn a chiffon scarf roond her neck in bed, bit he’d discovered that he wis allergic tae the material.  Even wae the light oot and the curtains drawn, he couldnae get the image ae some horrible, ugly, rough-palmed gangster hivving his awful way wae the mother ae his weans.  Humiliation wis a nasty yet an inevitable consequence ae everyday life, bit being cuckolded by a big brute ae a gangster fae Glesga, and him being a prison governor tae boot, hid been the ultimate insult tae that manhood ae his.  How could she…anywan…dae that tae somewan that they professed tae love, especially tae him, wae his standing in the community?  Noo, jist as everything wis starting tae look peachy, Alison’s past adultery wis catching up wae him.  He felt his anger rise as he quickly gulped doon some air, haudin it in fur as long as he could, before exhaling it slowly.

  “And again,” he said oot loud calmly, taking a deep breath, before exhaling.

  The Governor opened his eyes and looked across at his closed office door as he shifted uncomfortably in his damp seat.  He jist couldnae fathom oot why the priest and the social worker hid been working in cahoots tae undermine him these past months.  Hid he no goat enough oan that plate ae his?  Why could they no jist get oan wae whit they wur supposed tae be daeing, insteid ae meddling in his attempt tae make Dumfries a model institution?  He blamed the social worker.  Since her arrival, things hid gaun fae bad tae worse.  He’d always prided himsel oan being able tae control the prison officers, particularly the POA reps.  He’d get them in fur a wee cup ae tea and a shortbreid finger every noo and again, while he feigned interest in their imaginary, irrelevant problems.  It wis amazing how far a wee bit ae insincere flattery went.  There hid been rumblings ae discontent in the ranks fur a number ae months noo.  He could ill-afford tae hiv the staff grumbling.  Grumblings wid soon become hysterics and before he knew it, he’d be fighting oan two fronts.  Something wid need tae budge, and it certainly wisnae gonnae be George Crawford.  There wid be nae resistance allowed tae ferment and fester in his jail, and certainly no fae a wee pishy-knickered lassie and a malformed Catholic priest fae the Bogside, that wis fur sure.  He stretched oot his erm and pushed the white button wae his middle finger.

  “Please show Miss, er, Mrs Flaw
and Father Leonard in, Miss Beaker.  I’m ready for them now,” he said pleasantly in tae the intercom box.