Fortunes of the Heart (33 page)

Probably he’s now sold my stuff all over again at Paddy’s
Market. Honestly, I could kick myself. How could I have been so stupid, so
trusting?

However, when the door-bell pinged behind her, with poke of
sweeties clutched in hand she left Mr McGregor’s, she happened to glance down
the side-street opposite to his shop, and there saw a loaded barrow, amazingly
like the one which had earlier been at her own close-mouth.

With heart hammering in her breast, she crossed the cobbled
street, pausing only to let the rag-and-bone man’s horse and cart pass.

Then she walked down
Glassford
Street, all the while keeping her eyes firmly fixed on what she had by now
decided in her own mind was an apparition. But when she was right beside the
barrow, she reached out a hand and touched the satin of the ornate crib. On the
point then of drawing it closer for a more detailed inspection, she heard an
irate voice address her in broad Glasgow from the other side of the cart:

“Hey, Missus. Just you leave that stuff alone. Take your
thieving hands off it.”

She watched in fascination as a boy of about nine came round
the cart towards her. Bootless, dressed in rags, and with a river of yellow
slime coursing from his nose, he nevertheless had about him an air of
authority. With the inborn insolence of his upbringing, he first of all looked
her up and down, snorted up some of the overhang, and finished by scratching
heartily at his nit-ridden locks.

“That stuff
isnae
yours. So just
don’t you touch it. It belongs to Auld-
Shuggie
, and
he paid me good money for to watch it for him while he’s in there.”

This last comment was accompanied by a stem nod of the head
towards the building behind her. Kate turned round and saw that she was
standing in front of one of the local public-houses, of which there were all
too many in the
Candleriggs
.

The filthy street urchin went on: “Aye, Auld
Shuggie
says to me: ‘I’ve had a good day, son and I’m
waiting for tae deliver this stuff to a wee woman round in Garth Street. But
I’m dying for a wee refreshment. So, what say I give you a silver sixpence,
Bonnie, will ye watch over my barrow?’ That’s what Auld
Shuggie
said. And I tell you, Missus, I’ve never had a whole sixpence in my hand in all
my born days so I’ll guard this barrow-load of stuff with my life – aye, to the
death, if necessary.”

Despite herself, Kate smiled. Then, more in admiration for
the stand the urchin had taken than anything, she said: “Good for you, son.
Listen, I’ve had a good day as well. In fact that stuff you’ve been guarding
with your life, it’s for me. And here’s what I’ll do, I’ll –”

But she got no further, for at once the suspicion was back
in the boy’s eyes.

“Listen, Missus. You can say or do anything you like. But
here I am and here I stay until Auld
Shuggie
comes
back.”

Kate shrugged her shoulders and said nothing in reply, as if
accepting the inevitability of defeat. Then she reached into the pocket of her
dress and withdrew her draw-string purse. She could feel the urchin’s eyes
following her every move and was aware of the tension between them mounting.
Finally, between finger and thumb she extracted a silver
threepenny
-bit,
which she then transferred to the palm of her left-hand. She held this inducement
out to the boy.

“Look. This money is yours. All you have to do is go into
the Hangman’s Rest and ask Auld
Shuggie
to finish up
his refreshment and come out here to speak to me. Now, that’s not much to ask
of you, is it? And at the end of it, the
threepenny
-bit
will be yours when you bring Auld
Shuggie
out here to
me.”

That the boy was sorely tempted, Kate could read in his
eyes. And from the conflicting emotions racing across his face, she knew the
battle he was having with his conscience. Thus she was not surprised when,
after biting at his lower lip in deliberation, he scowled.

“Missus, I’d like to earn that
threepenny
-bit,
for between that and the sixpence I got from Auld
Shuggie
,
my Mammy would think she was the Queen herself, But in my close, we cannae
trust nobody. And I don’t even know you. If you got rid of me into that pub,
even for a minute, chances are you would take to your heels and run like the
devil himself was after you – and run away with the barrow.”

Far from being annoyed at his lack of trust in her, Kate
could not prevent a slow smile spreading over her face at the mental picture
conjured up of herself, a proud new Granny, running through the streets of
Candleriggs
with not only a stolen barrow, but a
self-righteous, ragged urchin in hot pursuit. She was on the point of admitting
defeat and resigning herself to a long wait outside the public-house. Given
that
Shuggie
had entered its portals with a whole
gold sovereign in his pocket, and also from the sounds of revelry now issuing
from the depths of The Hangman’s Rest, she realised with a sinking of the heart
and a droop to her shoulders, that her wait could be a very long, drawn-out one
indeed.

She shook her head in despair. With a reflective look on her
face, she observed the boy, who was now standing, feet astride, and arms folded
in front of his puny chest, with an air of complete authority and total
security for his charge. With a deep sigh, Kate replaced the money in her
purse, then without so much as another glance at the boy, she turned and set
off at a slow pace back down the street. She had gone only a few paces when she
thought she heard someone shout after her. Instead of turning round, she kept
on walking, head bent against the sharp wind and convinced in her own mind that
it had been some drunk who had called alt to a woman alone in the deserted
streets. But then she heard it again.

“Missus. Hey, Missus. Can you come back here for a wee
minute? I’ve just had a great idea.”

Kate turned her head and, seeing that it was the boy himself,
she at once retraced her steps. Even if he had not mentioned his good idea, she
would have known at once from the delighted expression on his face that he had
gone some way to solving their problem. He had.

“Listen, Missus: I know fine well that a lady like you
cannot go into a pub. And because I’ve been paid good money to stay here and
guard the barrow, I can’t go in either. So,” and here he beckoned her closer,
“this is what we do. We’ll get
Bugsie
to go in with a
message for
Shuggie
. Pure dead brilliant, eh?”

Without further ado, like a stage magician producing a
rabbit from a hat, he whipped off the satin-edged blanket to reveal a sleeping
toddler curled up inside the good, carriage-built pram.

For once in her life, Kate was lost for words and not least
because the urchin had considered her to be a lady. And when the said
Bugsie
, having been rudely awakened by his brother, finally
crawled out from his haven, she could see at once how the filthy child had come
by his nickname. With his crumpled, torn rags which hung loosely on his thin
body, his deeply-ingrained black bare feet, and his matted hair which was
positively alive and moving with lice, he could be none other than
Bugsie
. As if hypnotised, it was all Kate could do to drag
her eyes away from this apparition and over to a quick contemplation of the
once-lovely and spotlessly-clean pram. She was sure that it was not a trick of
the light; she had actually seen some of
Bugsie’s
complement of fleas hopping over the white mattress and lace-edged pillow.
There and then she decided in her own mind:

First thing tonight – that’s to say if I ever do get my
precious pram home – then I’ll disinfect it. Humph. Some bargain this has
turned out to be. Jenny’s wee Rosebud of a new-born baby will be having her
first birthday before she ever sees her swanky pram.

However, turning her attention to the problem in hand, she
was suddenly aware that the guardian of the property was addressing her.

“Like I said, Missus, a lady like you cannot go into the
Hangman’s Rest. So, I’ll stand guard out here With you. We’ll send
Bugsie
in to do the needful. Just one thing –he’s not
exactly the full twenty-shillings to the pound – if you get my meaning.”

Kate did get the full meaning – if anyone knew about someone
being a wee bit daft in the head then she most certainly did. She nodded and
waited for the urchin to outline his master plan.

She did not have long to wait. Placing a hand on top of
Bugsie’s
seething head, the older boy explained the
situation to him. Kate shuddered at the very thought of placing a hand on that
moving mass of lice. In fact, autosuggestion or not, she felt a compulsive urge
to have a good scratch at her own top-knot. With a supreme effort, she managed
concentrate instead on the detailed instructions being spelled out for wee
Bugsie
.

“Right. Now listen, son, I know you’re a bit stupid –
glaikit – like, and can’t remember things too well. So here’s what we do. Do
you mind I took you round to see yon big building on fire? Right – so you know
what fire looks like?”

Bugsie
, his mouth agape, nodded.

“Good. Well, I’m going to push you into that pub. All you
have to do is shout at your loudest, ‘Hey,
Shuggie
,
your barrow’s on fire.
Shuggie
, your barrow’s on
fire.’ Got that? That message will bring him out quick enough. Well, let me
hear you saying it. One, two, three.”

Thus suitably primed, the still half-asleep toddler was
given a hearty shove into the Hangman’s Rest where, presumably, he did his best
to deliver his lines in true dramatic fashion, for in two minutes he was out
again, but this time being held by the scruff of the neck by none other than a
somewhat inebriated Auld
Shuggie
himself. The master
plan had worked.

Chapter 26

The short winter day had already darkened and evening was
closing in.
Leerie
with his pole was lighting the
gas-lamps as Kate and
Shuggie
between them wheeled
the barrow back round to Garth Street. True, the urchin, whose name she had
since learnt was Archibald
Strang
, –otherwise known
as
Baldie
– had offered to come with them and help
unload the stuff at the other end. But when Kate considered that part of the
deal would no doubt have included a free hurl in the already-
bespoiled
pram for
Bugsie
and his
very active battalion of fleas and head-lice, she had declined with thanks, and
suitable protestations of gratitude, his kind offer. At any rate, she reckoned
if she carried the crib upstairs, even while befuddled with drink and still
feeling no pain from the bucket or two of booze which he had so obviously
imbibed, then
Shuggie
would surely manage to haul the
pram up to her top-storey flat–even if it meant humping it up one step at a
time.

Much to Kate’s amazement, at last safely returned to her own
close-mouth in Garth Street,
Shuggie
took one
despairing look at his loaded barrow. Then, and with a pensive look on his
face, after removing his flat tweed bunnet, he gave his balding head a thorough
good scratch, as if in this way he could find the answer to whatever it was
which was currently troubling him. At last, after an interval of several
seconds, in the course of which he minutely examined whatever filth had
accumulated in his black-rimmed finger-nails, he gave a long despairing sigh.
If ever Kate had heard a sigh which prompted the immediate question of What’s
wrong?’ it was that one.

“Something up,
Shuggie
? Don’t tell
me that with your track-record, you’ve actually got a hang-over. I thought you
to be something more of a man, not to mention much more of a serious drinker
than that.”

Shuggie
, on the same wavelength of
pawky
Glasgow humour with what – to the uninitiated –
always came across as outrageous insults, grinned at her, threw back his head
and gave a great belly laugh at her shaft of wit.

“Hangover, did ye say, Mistress Kinnon? Hangover be buggered.
And if you weren’t the respectable matron that you are, I’d soon show how you
much of a man I am.”

Together the oddly-assorted pair laughed in easy
companionship. Then, as their laughter died away as clouds of vapour in the
freezing night air,
Shuggie’s
face became serious.
Turning to his fully paid-up customer, he frowned towards the
barrowload
of goods.

“Well, I suppose in a manner of speaking, aye, there is a
wee bit of a problem.”

“Listen,
Shuggie
, don’t you worry
your head about nothing. Between the two of us we’ll manage fine. I’ll carry
the wee crib and you can hump up the pram. It’ll take us just a couple of
minutes. Then you can get off and deliver the rest of the load to wherever it’s
bound. For time’s getting on, you know.”

These words were greeted in silence by the open-mouthed
Shuggie
and, if the look on his face was anything to go by,
in something approaching stunned shock. Then, as if making a supreme effort to
gather himself together, he shook his head slowly. But before he could say
anything, Kate rushed to re-assure him.

“Don’t worry,
Shuggie
,” she patted
his hand, not only to lend extra weight to her words but also to give him some
measure of obviously sorely-needed comfort.

“There’s no problem,
Shuggie
.
Honestly. Nobody will touch the rest of your precious cargo. What we’ll do is
this, I’ll go on up first and you stay here and keep a weather-eye on the load.
Then, it’ll be your turn to climb the stairs with the pram, while I act as
guard. Now how does that wee ploy suit you?”