Parly Road: The Glasgow Chronicles 1 (38 page)

  “The first wan goes back years tae me and Skull’s da’s time. Don’t believe aw that shite aboot disease spreading. Skull’s da wis the first in the Toonheid tae own it.  He flogged everything bit the shirt oan his back tae buy it aff ae a wee guy, who’s name Ah cannae remember noo, who wis emigrating tae Australia.  Skull’s da, Mick, who wis nae mug himsel, widnae sell it tae The Big Man when The Big Man found oot wan ae the originals wis sitting in the Toonheid. Calum The Runner’s da, Matt, picked up oan whit wis gaun oan, because he worked up in the stables at the time. He passed oan tae me whit wis being planned. He telt me that young Pat, The Big Man, who wis only in his mid-twenties at the time, hid ran oot ae patience and hid jist sent the Murphy brothers roond tae take it aff ae Mick. Matt telt me jist in time, wae aboot five minutes tae spare. Ah managed tae nip up tae Mick’s, who ye know still lives oan the ground flair up in Barony Street, and explained whit the score wis through his kitchen windae at the back. Ah goat there jist in front ae the Murphys who wur banging the hell oot ae his door. Mick grabbed the big Horseman and passed it oot the windae tae me. Ah stuffed it straight up ma jumper, jist as they came in through the front door. Whit a hiding they gied the poor basturt. Dragged and kicked fuck oot ae him aw o’er the place. Wan ae them…Ah think it could’ve been Shaun himsel…pulled oot a polis baton and sat oan Mick’s chest. Every time he refused tae tell him where the Horseman wis, he goat skelped o’er the napper wae the baton. Ah don’t know how many times he scudded Mick, bit within twenty minutes they wur roond here. They didnae fuck aboot either, Ah kin tell ye.  Wan kick in the ging-gang-goolies and a skelp wae the baton and Ah wis oot ae the game. When Ah woke up, aw ma doos hid their necks wrung. The big Horseman hid vanished. Wan ae the wans that The Big Man’s goat the noo is the great great, great, Ah think, great great grandson ae that wan. Ah wis laid up in The Royal fur aboot three weeks. They transferred Mick somewhere else and the next time Ah spoke tae him he didnae recognise me and jist rambled oan aboot aw kinds ae shite, like how wance he wis better, he’d be playing fur Celtic.”

  “Dae ye think Skull knows aw this?” Johnboy asked Flypast.

  “Who knows, bit he’s jist like his auld man wis…whinges like buggery, bit scared ae nothing.”

  “Whit aboot the other wan ye know aboot?” Tony asked.

  “Aye, remember ye tanned Mad Malky’s place o’er in Possil?”

  “How did ye know aboot that?”

  “Hoi, remember, Ah’m the stupid wan aboot here. Ah pick up aw sorts ae stuff.”

  “No the big Horseman?”

  “Aye, that wis wan ae them as well.”

  “Fuck, Ah never knew that. Ah knew that it wis a beauty, bit Ah didnae get a chance tae hiv a real good swatch ae it before he set that dug ae his oan me.”

  “Aye, Mad Malky’s still trying tae track it doon. Ah heard that some wee daft fly man turned up wae something that looked like his, trying tae claim the reward. He’d a photo that matched the thing perfectly, except that it wis jist slightly knock-kneed.  Ye could hardly make it oot. Mad Malky didnae say a word fur aboot ten minutes, bit jist walked roond it, stoapping every noo and again tae stare at it.”

  “Whit happened?” Tony and Johnboy baith asked at the same time, spellbound.

  “Mad Malky bit the heid aff it right there and then in front ae him and then proceeded tae stab fuck oot ae the guy oan the spot. He only jist survived, minus hauf his liver and spleen.”

  “Aye, he did come across as a bit ae a psycho who’d lose his temper o’er nothing. His dug wis the same,” Tony said, laughing, showing Flypast the teeth mark scars
oan his wrist.

  “So, how wid The Big Man know it wis wan ae the originals?” Johnboy asked.

  “He’s been tracking them doon fur years.  Three weeks efter Mad Malky lost his, his wife left him and fucked aff doon south.  He’d been battering her aw o’er the place since they’d goat married years earlier.  They couldnae hiv any weans since she’d lost the first wan efter he’d gied her a right good hiding.  Ah heard she’d hid a miscarriage efter being kicked in the stomach.  Anyway, wance the dust settled a wee while efter you blagged the big Horseman, she contacted The Big Man, offering him aw the paperwork fur a good price.  Ye kin imagine whit his reaction wis.  It wis that payment that allowed her tae finally escape and start afresh.”

  Silence.

  “So, The Driving Instructor will need tae clock that ye’ve goat the three Horsemen before he hauns o’er the dosh. It’ll be payment oan sight,” Flypast said, breaking the silence.

  “That’s nae a problem. We kin dae that.”

  “And another thing, Tony.”

  “Aye?”

  “Whitever ye dae, don’t mess The Driving Instructor aboot. He comes across as a nice guy, no a double-crosser like The Big Man or they Murphys, bit he’d bury ye alive whether ye’re young or no, if ye fuck wae him in any shape or form.”

  “Flypast, aw we want is tae pay aff whit we owe oan the cabin.”

  “Right, there’s something else that might help youse oot if things don’t go strictly tae plan.”

  “Whit?”

  “Let’s jist say youse get aw the doos oot, bit wan ae the Brothers Grimm turn up unexpectedly or lightning strikes that building.”

  “Whit? In the middle ae summer?”

  “Whitever happens, he disnae want they Horsemen left in that loft, still strutting their stuff, flashing their tadgers at aw they wee hens, at the end ae the night. The Driving Instructor says that if the worst comes tae the worst, he’ll accept their heids as proof that they’re no still oan the go.”

  “Whit, kill wan ae the Murphys?” Johnboy yelped, jist aboot shiting his troosers.

  “Naw, the Horsemen’s heids, bit ye’d need tae hiv aw three tae haun o’er.”

  Silence.

  “Skull widnae wear that. There’s no way he’d go fur that wan…money or no,” Tony eventually declared.

  “Aye, well, Ah wis asked tae sling that wan intae the pot, jist tae let ye know that he’s serious.  He wants they big Horsemen Thief Pouters, deid or alive.”

  “Ah’ve jist thought ae something,” Johnboy said.  “Whit’s people gonnae say when they see a convoy ae driving instructor cars sitting in the street? Ah’ve lived here aw ma life and Ah don’t know anywan that’s been able tae afford a driving lesson, dae you?” Johnboy asked them.

  “Aye, Ah thought aboot that wan as well. The Driving Instructor his decided tae hiv a Driving School Convention in The Atholl Bar oan Saturday night, jist doon oan the corner ae Stanhope Street and St James Road.”

  “A whit?”

  “A driving school get-thegither.  He’s invited aw the BSM boys he knows fae aw o’er Glesga and they’re gonnae converge oan The Atholl oan Saturday night. They’ve booked the lounge and they’ve goat a wee man coming tae dae a talk as cover. Maist ae them will bring their wives or girlfriends, at least the wans that kin drive, so the guys kin aw get pished.  As soon as they know youse ur aw ready, the Kirkintilloch boys will nip alang, wan at a time, tae where youse ur and pick up a box and heid straight hame fae there. Simple, eh?”

  “Ye’re a genius, Flypast. Wait till Joe and Skull hears that wan,” Tony said, as they aw laughed.

  “Whit youse hiv tae dae is gie them a shout in the first instance tae start the baw rolling.  Efter that, they’ll jist drive alang St James Road and pick up a box every five minutes oan the button.”

  “That’s complicated.”

  “How simple could it be?”

  “There’s only four ae us. Skull will be in the loft wae the doos, wan ae us will be oan tap ae the holar boxes oan the roof itsel, wan will be carrying the doos in the egg boxes alang the roof and wan will be sitting in the exit loft. We’re wan short. There’s nae way wan ae us wid manage tae get back up tae that loft oan oor ain wance we’re doon oan tae the stair landing. It’s a two-man job tae get back up. The height’s the problem.”

  “Whit aboot a ladder then?”

  “We’ll hiv too much stuff as it is, withoot farting aboot wae a big ladder, especially if we’re gaun up the close. We noticed there wis a couple ae padlocks oan the wan me and Johnboy looked at in Taylor Street the other day.”

  “Well, wance Ah’m in The McAslin, Ah’m gonnae make sure everywan knows Ah wis the first tae arrive and the last wan tae leave. So, that’s me oot,” Flypast said apologetically.

  “Right, okay. We’ll sort that wan oot at oor end, Flypast. Thanks fur aw this. We owe ye wan, big style.”

  “Don’t worry aboot me, boys. The Driving Instructor will see me okay wance the heat dies doon in a month or so. Ur youse really sure ye want tae dae this?  There will be blood oan the streets efter this wan kicks aff.”

  “Don’t worry aboot us, Flypast. We’re oan tap ae this, so we ur. Right, Johnboy, get that smelly arse ae yours aff that smelly rocking chair. We’ve goat a meeting wae Calum The Runner up at the cabin.”

  Johnboy and Tony fell silent wance the cabin came intae view in the distance.   Johnboy wisnae too sure how auld it wis or how long it hid been sitting there.   Its situation wis ideal fur fleeing doos.  Unless ye wur sitting oan the tap deck ae a bus oan Parly Road heiding fur Castle Street, ye probably widnae hiv known it wis there.  Ye might’ve goat a fleeting glance ae it between the gaps ae the billboards as ye walked past and wondered whit it wis, as it blended in wae the black smoke-stained bricks ae the Macbraynes bus garage surrounding it.  The only telltale sign that it wis a dookit wis the holar boxes and landing board sitting oan the slope ae the roof.  Efter a row ae tenements wis demolished oan Glebe Street, oan the Kennedy Street side ae Parly Road, the dookit stood oot majestically, nestled between the tenements running east up Parly Road and the back ae Taylor’s, the haulage firm that Johnboy and his pals used regularly as a taxi service when they went oot and aboot, tanning shoaps across the city.  Fur Johnboy, walking across the waste ground, where the tenement block wance stood, it reminded him ae a scene oot ae an Ivanhoe or Robin Hood film, where the riders approached the imposing castle in the distance.  When they arrived efter their pow-wow wae Flypast, Joe and Skull wur chomping through a box ae the City Bakeries best mince pies which Skull hid nicked aff the back ae wan ae their vans ootside the shoap oan Parly Road.

  “Jist in time, Ah see,” Tony said, as Johnboy and him baith scooped up a pie.

  “Ah prefer them cauld masel,” Skull wis saying as they sat doon.

  “That’s because ye’ve never tasted them hot, ya fud-pad, ye,” Joe said, switching oan the tranny and getting the sounds ae The Beach Boys’ ‘Ah Get Aroond’ fae Radio Caroline.

  Tony telt Joe and Skull whit hid been said roond at Flypast’s, bit left oot the bit aboot Skull’s da. Johnboy added in wee bits here and there, trying tae remember whit ‘compos mentis’ wis aw aboot.  Joe seemed fine and interested, bit Skull jist wanted them tae get tae the good part…tanning the Murphys’ loft.

  “There’s no way anywan’s gonnae lay a finger oan they fucking Horsemen Pouters, Ah kin tell ye that right noo. Even if we don’t like they Murphy tadgers, ye hiv tae keep birds like that alive and in the system,” Skull scowled, looking at everywan, daring them tae disagree wae him.

  “Why’s that, Skull?” Johnboy asked.

  “Because aw doos are interbred.  Ye need the pure bred wans tae tap up the breeding stock every noo and again tae keep fresh blood flowing.”

  Johnboy didnae hiv a clue whit he wis oan aboot and looking at the other two, he reckoned that they didnae either.

  “How dae ye know aw this?”

  “Because ma da telt me oan his good days, in between his bad days, before he goat worse.”

  “So, how ur we gonnae manage the haunin o’er bit, wance we’re aw up the loft? We cannae be nipping alang the roof and doon in tae the closemooth every five minutes.”

  “We’ll jist hiv tae stack aw the boxes in the exit loft until we’re ready tae get them doon the stairs.”

  “Or we kin bring wan ae the Garngad crowd in,” Joe suggested.

  “Nae chance...they’re aw thieving wankers,” Skull butted-in.

  They heard Calum arriving at aboot the same time as he came flying through the bead curtain and landed in the middle ae the flair.

  “Fur Christ sake, Calum!  If ye cannae knock, at least bloody shout before ye break and enter.”

  “Hellorerr Tony, it’s good tae see ye as well. How ur ye daeing, boys? Ye wur wanting tae speak tae me?” Calum said, staunin in the middle ae the cabin, looking aroond.

  “He wants tae speak tae ye. Ah’m jist the lucky mascot aboot here,” Skull said, straight-faced.

  “Aye, and Ah see ye still hivnae flogged that bugle yet, Skull?” Calum said, picking it up and running a fingertip alang it.

  “How ur ye daeing, Calum? New shorts?” Tony asked, as aw eyes shifted tae the red things he wis wearing.

  “Aye, they’re ma ‘away’ wans.”

  “Dae athletes hiv ‘away’ running shorts?”

  “Oh, aye…it’s no jist fitba teams.”

  “So, whit’s happening oan Saturday night in the pub then?”

  “A private do, so it is. Why?  Why wid the likes ae youse be wanting tae know aboot something like that then?” he asked, suspiciously.

  “Because we’re gonnae haud up the place, that’s why,” Skull chipped in.