Parly Road: The Glasgow Chronicles 1 (24 page)

  “Make way fur Gus the Gusher,” Johnboy announced, focussing as he stepped forward wae his tackle ready.

  Johnboy beat Joe’s effort, bit wis jist short ae Tony’s.

  “Aha! We’ve goat ye oan the run noo, ya wee damp squib, ye. Ah knew it wis only a matter ae time,” Joe said, roughly pushing Johnboy aside, as he lined up.

  Sure enough, Joe’s sailed past Tony’s. A couple ae mair inches and he wid’ve reached the water. Tony made a big deal oot ae taking his next shot.  He shook his heid, shoulders and hauns while at the same time, stretched his neck this way and that way before taking a slow deep breath, as he stepped forward like an Olympic athlete.  It wis a disaster. He’d hung oan fur aboot twenty seconds and let fly. It landed aboot four feet in front ae him.

  “Basturt! Ma tank’s run empty.”

  “Aye, that’s whit they aw say. Right, Gus, ya virgin, beat mine if ye kin.”

  Johnboy hid tae cancel his first attempt because Jessie put him aff.  Jist before he let fly, he caught sight ae her staunin oan the other side looking at him, clearly wondering whit the fuck they wur up tae. 

  “Don’t blame Jessie, ya eejit ye,” Joe smirked.

  Johnboy stood there concentrating, ignoring Joe, his eyes clamped shut, squeezing like a madman fur aboot hauf a minute. He could hardly keep a grip oan his bulging frog’s neck, it wis that swollen. When he opened his eyes and looked doon, he could practically see through it. He never knew a tadger hid so many wee spidery veins running through it. When he eased aff oan the brakes, it squirted like a silvery rocket, two feet beyond the edge ae a hauf sunken tyre and straight intae the Nolly. Efter a stunned silence, the three ae them burst oot hooting and laughing.

Joe hid another go, bit only managed a dribble that travelled aboot four inches in front ae him before trailling aff intae a sprinkle, jist missing his new knocked-aff sandshoes.

  “Fuck that!” Joe said, confirming Johnboy as the undisputed Glesga canal pishing champ ae the world fur nineteen sixty five. 

  “Aye, that wis definetly a championship winner, that wan, so it wis. So, who’s first oan the double dunt then, Johnboy?” Tony asked.

  Johnboy looked at the pair ae them.  Joe and Tony looked o’er at him in expectation, each hoping that it wisnae him.

  “Who dae ye think?” Johnboy asked, smiling, as he looked o’er at Joe.

  “Johnboy, ya wee disloyal fud-pad, ye. How could ye side wae an Atalian basturt who’s da came o’er here efter we fucked them in the war and shagged aw oor maws and done oor das oot ae aw the good jobs, eh?”

  They wur sitting oan the edge ae the Nolly wall, hivving a right good laugh, slagging aff and taking the pish oot ae Joe, when a weird sound attacked their ears and a bald heid appeared, staunin in the middle ae the bascule bridge. It wis Skull blowing through a fancy silver bugle, bit aw that wis coming oot wis a sound like a large watery echoing fart. When he reached them, he held up a white box.

  “Anywan ae you fannies fur a pie?”  he shouted across.

  “Brilliant, Ah’m Hank Marvin. Where’d ye get them fae then?” Joe shouted across before bouncing o’er the bridge.

  “Ah lifted them aff ae a City Bakeries van oan the way up here,” Skull said, letting aff another bugle fart.

  “So, where did the bugle come fae?” Tony asked, snatching it oot ae Skull’s haun.

  Tony tried tae get a better sound oot ae it than Skull hid been managing tae get.

  “Oot ae the gospel hall oan Stirling Road.”

  “Whit the hell wur ye daeing in the gospel hall?”

  “That da ae mine wis pished oot ae his heid again last night and the stupid auld eejit widnae let me in, even though Ah wis kicking fuck oot ae the door fur hauf an hour. He kept shouting that he disnae flee the doos any mair.”

  “Whit’s that goat tae dae wae the gospel hall?” Johnboy asked.

  “Ah hid tae find somewhere tae kip, so Ah broke in last night, roond aboot midnight. Ah ripped aff wan ae they fancy red velvet curtains fae the windae and wrapped masel up in it and slept oan a bench.  It wis as cosy as anything, so it wis.”

  “So, where did the bugle come fae then?” asked Joe, grabbing it aff Tony, blowing through it and getting a good noise oot ae it.

  “When Ah went through the windae at the back, Ah ended up in a wee room full ae black boxes. This wis in the first box Ah opened. Ah thought it wid come in handy if we wur selling briquettes the day.”

  “Right, ye’ve jist arrived at the right time. We’ve hauf loaded the cart. We’re noo gonnae start carrying o’er two boxes at a time. You kin go first,” Joe said, smiling.

  “Naw, Ah’ll watch youse first tae see how it’s done. Whit horse did ye get, by the way?” Skull asked.

  “Jessie.”

  “Aw, brilliant. She’s a darling, so she is.”

  “Ah didnae think Tony wis too pleased tae get her,” Johnboy said, looking across at Tony fur confirmation.

  “Is that right?  Ah think he’s hivving ye oan, ya bampot, ye. Tony and Jessie go way back.  Is that no right, Tony?”

  “Aye, Ah always make a scene wae Horsey John. If he thought Ah liked her, we’d get something else. Every time Ah’m in wae the briquette guys, he always gies her tae the wan Ah’m wae, thinking it will noise me up, the stupid auld prick.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Roond the corner.”

  “Right, Ah’ll watch how youse ur daeing it, bit first Ah’m aff tae share this pie wae her,” Skull said, walking o’er tae the corner, in the direction ae Jessie.

  “Right, let’s get started. You first, Joe,” Tony said, as Joe shot Johnboy a dirty look.

Chapter Twenty Eight

  “Ah’d watch whit ye say if Ah wis you. He’s in a bit ae a mood,” Tiny advised, as Calum breezed past him jist ootside the pub door, managing tae squeeze in before Kirsty bolted it shut fae the inside.

  The Big Man wis still feeling annoyed, even though it hid been hauf an hour since Liam Thompson and Crisscross hid left.

  “Awright, Pat?” The Sarge hid asked him.

  “Hiv ye ever tried knocking first?”

  “Aye, we wur gonnae, bit this wee angel kindly allowed us in at the same time as Tiny, didn’t ye, hen?” he’d said, nodding in the direction ae Kirsty, who wis sitting oan her bar stool, trying tae work oot how tae pronounce a big word.

  “Noo, whit kin an honest business man like masel dae fur two ae Glega’s finest then, eh?” The Big Man hid asked sarcastically.

  “Jist a wee friendly chat and some advice aboot how tae protect yer business and yersel fae the wee thieving basturts who’re running aboot the streets jist noo,” The Sarge hid said, pulling up a chair.

  “Kirsty, get the boys a cup ae tea, will ye?”

  “So, how’s business, Pat?”

  “Cannae complain.”

  “Ah hear ye’ve goat a wee party coming up soon.”

  “Aye, it’s the auld wans’ anniversary. It’s a pity aw the invites hiv been sent oot and it’s a full hoose. Ye wid’ve liked the group Ah’ve goat booked. Top notch country and western, they ur. Jist released their new record only last week.”

  “Whit’s their name? Sally’s maybe goat wan ae their records,” Crisscross hid asked him, leaning oan the bar, eyeing up the joint.

  “Up The Duff. The singer is a right crooner, so he is. Seemingly, aw the wummin, young and auld, fat and thin, fling their knickers at him every time he hits a high note. Ah’ve printed oan the invites that aw the lassies that ur coming should sew their names intae their knickers, as management cannae be held responsible fur any loss ae property.”

  “Sally will be sick that she’s gonnae miss that. Ah don’t suppose ye could squeeze her and wan ae her pals in, could ye, Pat?”

  “The amount ae times Ah’ve been asked that very question o’er these past few weeks, ye jist widnae believe. Ah keep telling people it’s a private function bit they won’t take a telling. Ah’ll tell ye whit, Crisscross, Ah’ll put Sally and her pal oan ma spare ticket waiting list. That’s the best Ah kin dae.”

  “Ach, Ah don’t care whit they say, Pat.  Ye’re no the right cunt that everywan says ye ur,” Crisscross hid said, looking o’er tae The Sarge fur confirmation.

  “Eh?” The Big Man hid uttered, a puzzled frown oan that kisser ae his, looking across at The Sarge tae see if Crisscross wis taking the piss.

  “Er, let’s jist change the subject fur a minute, Pat,” The Sarge hid said, jumping in and gieing Crisscross a dirty look.

  “Aye, whit is it ye’re efter?”

  “A wee slippery tongue his informed me that ye’ve goat that wee manky mob daeing some jobs fur ye. Wid that be right?”

  “Whit wee manky mob?”

  “Ye know who Ah’m talking aboot, Pat.”

  “Liam, Ah don’t know who the fuck ye’re oan aboot.  And anyway, ye should know better than tae listen tae people wae forked tongues. They kind ae bams kin get people intae aw sorts ae trouble. Ah widnae hiv grasses drinking in ma bar…the staff aw know that. They kind ae people ur barred fae this place.”

  “Aye, bit that’s ma point. If somebody his telt me that, who else hiv they telt?”

  “So, who ur we talking aboot?”

  “Ah’m no in a position tae divulge the source ae ma infomation.”

  “Then how kin Ah gie ye a straight fucking answer, if ye don’t tell me who the fuck the manky mob ur that ye’re speaking aboot?”

  “Aw, right, Ah see whit ye’re getting at. It’s that wee Atalian mongrel and his manky pals.”

  “Whit aboot them?”

  “Ah’ve been telt that they’ve been supplying ye wae trannys.”

  “Liam, Liam, that’s bloody slander and ye know it, so it is.”

  “Aye, that’s as well as maybe, bit ye’re the wan who’s being talked aboot doon at Central.”

  “By who?”

  “The chief inspector, Sean Smith, fur wan, as well as the rest ae that Irish Paddy pack fae across the city.”

  “Aboot a couple ae trannys?”  The Big Man hid scoffed, laughing.

  “Naw, aboot them using a gun tae pan in the windaes ae the shoaps tae get them.”

  The Big Man hid stoapped laughing and his face hid turned red.

  “Ah think ye’ve been watching too many cowboy films, Liam,” he’d scowled.

  “Naw, Pat. This his came fae the tap. They wee slippery vermin that ye’ve taken a shine tae ur running aboot wae a haungun, taking pot shots at electrical shoaps aw o’er the toon. They’re bringing oan heat tae places that wid prefer tae be cauld at this time ae the year.”

  “Ye’ve goat tae be shitting me?”

  “Naw, bit the shite’s flying yer way, and it’s no only you that it’s gonnae hit, if ye get ma drift.”

  “Fur a start, the only tranny Ah’ve hid ma hauns oan recently wis when Ah hid ma hauns doon the knickers ae a big strapping sexy blond who turned oot tae be Larry fae Lennoxtoon. Noo, don’t get me wrang, Ah’ve nae personal opinions regarding whether somewan prefers the dark hole ae Calcutta tae a nice wee bit ae fanny-pie, bit Ah managed tae persuade him...or her, that at this time ae ma life, she wisnae the wan fur me.”

  “So, whit did ye dae tae convince him...her?” Crisscross hid asked wae interest.

  “Ah imagine she wis left in nae doubt and wae a fairly big bald patch efter Ah ripped a hairy clump aff ae her, wae this right haun here…” he’d replied, wae a wry smile, lifting up the haun in question so everywan could admire it.  “At least, that wis the impression Ah goat at the time, as Ah wis telt later that the scream could be heard in Argyle Street and Ah wis in a fancy big hoose o’er in Partick.”

  “Pat, Ah’m being serious here,” The Sarge hid said, wance him and Crisscross hid stoapped pishing themsels laughing.

  “So am Ah. It wisnae funny at the time,” The Big Man hid said as Kirsty arrived, plapping three cups ae tea doon oan tae the table and spilling the hot liquid
aw o’er the surface.

  “If the big boys end up doon here, it could be messy fur a lot ae people, Pat.”

  “Aye, ye’ll be losing sleep at night aboot that, Ah wid imagine, Liam.”

  “Look, we’ll aw be losing some sleep unless ye reel these wee sticky-fingered fuckers in a bit.”

  “Ah still don’t know whit the hell ye’re oan aboot, bit Ah’ll make a few wee discreet enquiries. How dis that sound?”

  “And the gun?”

  “Whit aboot the gun?”

  “When dae Ah get the gun tae show the big yins at the tap table that we’re oan tap ae this?”

  “When ye gie me the name ae yer wee chatterbox.”

  “Aw, fur Christ’s sake, Pat. Don’t be bloody stupid, will ye?”

  “Well, whit? You get the gun and Ah get the slanderer…problem solved.”

  “Ah cannae.”

  “Ye cannae or ye wullnae?”

  “It’s wan ae the local young wans and there’s no way Ah’m gieing ye his name.”

  “Then there’s no way Ah’m putting masel oot fur yer gun then. Ah’ve goat a reputation tae maintain here, despite whit ye might think or the wee grassing basturt who’s using youse tae get tae me thinks.”

  “Pat, Pat, we’ve goat tae work thegither here.”

  “Naw, youse two hiv goat tae work thegither. Ah’m jist an honest civvy businessman, gaun aboot ma lawful business.”

  “Ah want that gun, Pat.”

  “And Ah want the wee whistler that’s putting ma livelihood in jeopardy. Ah promise nothing will happen tae him...jist as long as him and his family move the fuck oot ae the Toonheid. Ah guarantee they’ll get a safe passage.”

  “Ah cannae dae that, Pat, and you know it.”

  “Then get tae fuck oot ae ma business and ma life and leave me alane, will ye?” The Big Man hid shouted.

  The Sarge hid jumped up, sending his chair o’er oan tae its back wae a clatter, as it skited across the wooden flair, causing Kirsty tae appear at the storeroom door.

  “Wan thing everywan is agreed aboot here, Pat, is that ye’re a right prick, so ye ur.”

  “Aye, well, Ah won’t tell ye in front ae that poor wee innocent lassie, staunin o’er there, whit they call ye in this pub every night.”

  “Right, Crisscross, let’s get tae fuck oot ae here before Ah dae something that’ll get me arrested.”

  “Aye, you dae that, Sergeant Shiny Buttons.”

  When Calum appeared at the tap ae the bar, he wis so busy concentrating oan his breathing that he missed Kirsty drawing a finger across her neck. By the time he reached The Big Man, who wis lying back oan his chair, erms folded across his chest wae his gub open, catching flies, it wis too late. The eyes popped open, followed by a yawn.

  “Aye, hellorerr, Pat, sorry fur disturbing yer wee siesta,” Calum said, daeing a series ae squats and lunges in front ae him.

  “It’s yersel, Calum. Whit hiv ye goat fur me the day?”

  “Shaun says The Capstan Club wis chock-a-block last night and he took forty quid aff the Chinese chefs fae the Far Flung Pu. They only hid twenty between them so he’s accepted an IOU. Wan-bob Broon said him and Charlie Hastie done the roonds as usual and collected everything apart fae the Finkelbaums’. He says they’ve offered their pair ae big weird looking poodles as collateral and they’ll manage tae square ye up next week.”

  “Whit the fuck am Ah supposed tae dae wae a couple ae giant, hungry poodles?” he growled, no expecting and no getting a reply.

  “Oh, aye, and Frankie says ‘Up The Duff’ hiv pulled oot and he’s hid tae heid aff doon tae Dunoon at short notice, tae attend his granny’s funeral.”

  “Mother ae fuck! Funeral? Funeral?”

  Silence.

“Ah’m gonnae gie that sick basturt a fucking funeral he’ll remember fur the rest ae his short life, so Ah am. Ah cannae believe he’s let me doon again efter everything Ah’ve done fur him, the ungrateful selfish prick,” he growled.

  Calum hid, sensibly, awready stoapped daeing his squats and wis looking o’er at Kirsty, gulping.

  “Er, Ah goat the impression he might be away fur a wee while as he looked like a pack horse wae aw they bags and boxes ae files that he wis humphing doon the street,” Calum said supportively, while Kirsty spread her hauns wide and moothed “Duh” at him.

  “Ah’m gonnae kill that eejit when Ah get ma hauns oan him. Ah fucking warned him aboot how important this wis. Whit the hell am Ah gonnae dae noo?” The Big Man groaned, plapping his elbows oan tae his knees, using his fingers tae gently rub his temples in an attempt tae collect his thoughts.

  Calum eyeballed Kirsty wae a ‘dae something’ look.

  “It’s no the end ae the world, Pat. Something will turn up, won’t it, Calum?”

  “Oh, Ah don’t know aboot that. If Frankie cannae get anywan, then...” Calum’s voice trailed aff, efter getting a freezing look fae her.

  “Ah’m bloody goosed, that’s whit Ah am.  Ah’m surrounded by eejits, bampots and body-swervers,” The Big Man cursed tae himsel.

  “Ah could maybe help ye oot, bit it will cost ye,” Kirsty said fae her stool.

  “Whit dae ye mean?” Calum and The Big Man asked in unison, looking o’er at her.

  “Well, ma brothers play in a band.”

  “So?” Calum and The Big Man chipped in thegither.

  “Well, they’re in big demand jist noo, bit they might dae me a wee favour.”

  “Kirsty, if ye didnae think Ah wis being fresh wae ye, Ah’d come o’er there and gie ye wan ae ma winching specials, that aw the birds in the toon go nuts o’er.”

  “Aye, well, Ah kin tell ye the noo, the price will be non-negotiable, so don’t even start.”

  “Anything, hen, anything.”

  “Ah cannae promise.”

  “So, whit’s the score then?”

  “They’ve jist broken up their last group and ur in negotiations tae start up another wan.”

  “Whit dis they’ve ‘jist broken up’ and ur ‘starting another wan’ mean?”

  “It means they’ve hid musical differences wae their lead singer and their bass player.”

  “So, whit the fuck dae they dae then, other than play spoons and an auld washing board?”

  Silence.

  “Right, okay, Ah’m sorry, Ah’m sorry, Ah shouldnae hiv said that.  Kin ye no see Ah’m stressed and distressed aw at the same time?” he muttered, in whit sounded like an apology.

  “Wan plays guitar and the other wan plays the drums.”

  “So, how the fuck dis hauf a band help me oot then?”

  “Look, don’t start oan me. If ye want me tae help ye oot, Ah will. If no, then we’ll leave it at that.”

  “Kirsty, Kirsty, ye’re too sensitive, hen. Ah’ve always said that, hiven’t Ah, Calum?”

  “Aw the time,” Calum chipped in.

  “Look, Ah’m no being disrespectful, hen. Aw Ah’m asking is how the fuck kin hauf a band help me in ma time ae need?”