Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 (29 page)

Chapter Forty

  “That’s us then, Helen,” Gina said, putting her plastic mug oan the flair beside her feet, as she bit intae her cheese piece.

  “Whit is?”

  “Banged up until the morra.”

  “Oh, that’ll break the monotony.”

  “Aye, wance they lock ye up oan a Sunday at four o’clock, apart fae getting a mug ae tea aboot hauf eight, ye’re oan yer ain straight through.”

  “Whit happens if ye want a pee and the chanty pot’s full?” Helen asked, nodding at the antique sitting in the corner.

  “Hmm, Ah don’t know.  Ah suppose ye hiv tae stick a cork in it.”

  “This is bloody awful, so it is.”

  “Aye, bit we hid a good laugh wae the other lassies, didn’t we?”

  “It wis bloody embarrassing, so it wis.”

  “Naw, it wisnae.  It wis bloody great.  There wis some stoating voices, gieing it laldy, doon in that yard.  That Wee Morag sounded jist like that Cilla Black wan.”

  “She wis supposed tae sound like Dusty Springfield.”

  “Ah wisnae too sure ae Big Pat though.  She sounded mair like ma coalman.”

  “Aye, bit her heart’s in the right place.”

  “Wheesht!  It sounds like there’s a posse oan the landing.  That means somewan’s in trouble, so it dis.  The doors never get opened up efter four.  They’re heiding this way,” Gina whispered, cocking her lug towards the door.

  “Oh, oh, they’ve stoapped ootside oor door,” Helen whispered back, as a key turned in the lock.

  “Taylor?”

  “Aye?”

  “Ye’re wanted,” Big Fat Martha grunted.

  “By who?”

  “Ah’m the wan that’s daeing the talking aboot here, hen.  You jist dae as ye’re telt and we’ll aw get alang jist fine and dandy,” the screw growled, stepping aside tae let Helen squeeze past hersel and a wee skinny, scrawny screw, who’d a terrible twitch in wan ae her eyes that widnae stoap twitching.

  Christ, whit hiv Ah done noo, Helen thought tae hersel, biting that bottom lip ae hers as she followed The Twitcher alang the gallery and doon the stairs.  Efter the ninth iron-barred gate hid been opened and slammed shut behind her by the bearded wardress, tae the nerve-jangling sound ae rattling keys, Helen’s sense ae direction hid deserted her.  When they finally came tae the first wooden door Helen hid come across since she’d been in the place, Sideburn Sally roughly swung it open and nodded fur her tae enter.

  “Hello, Helen, nice tae see ye,” The Rat said, staunin up.

  It took Helen aw her strength tae keep her composure and face straight.  Whit the hell wis he daeing here?  Who the fuck hid let him in?  Gina hid jist telt her that everywan wis locked doon fur the night, even though the sun wis shining in through the barred windaes ae the room.

  “Whit the fuck dae you want?”

  “Ah’ve come tae see if ye’re awright and okay,” he said, looking aboot the room.

  “Well, ye’ve seen me, noo fuck aff before they pin an assault charge tae ma sheet.”

  “Ye’re oan a wee bit ae a sticky wicket noo, Helen.  Ah’m only trying tae help ye get oot ae here, so Ah’d appreciate if ye wid try and at least kid oan that ye don’t hate me.”

  Helen wis jist aboot tae aboot turn and heid fur the door when The Rat pulled oot a box ae Swan Vestas and a twenty packet ae Woodbines fae his crumpled raincoat.  He saw her hesitating.

  “Here, help yersel.  Why don’t ye grab a pew,” he said, throwing the packets oan tae the worn Formica-topped table, as he nodded tae
the empty chair sitting in front ae it.

  Helen picked up the fag packet and looked at it, turning it o’er in her haun.  Even though she hated the taste ae Woodbines, she fought the urge tae burst intae tears and jist managed tae haud hersel thegither.  She plapped her arse doon oan tae the bare metal seat.

  “Whit dae ye want?” she finally asked again, taking the strong smoke doon intae her lungs, before exhaling it towards the ceiling.

  She placed the matchbox oan tap ae the fags at her side ae the table.  Even though it hid only been a few days since he’d seen her, she’d lost weight, The Rat thought tae himsel.  He wid hiv tae be careful here…very careful.  Wan false move and he wis fucked.  Aw his good work wid go doon the drain.

  “So, how ur they treating ye?”

  Silence.

  “Look, Helen, Ah know this is difficult fur ye, bit Ah really want tae help ye…if Ah kin.”

  “Ye mean, tae get yer story and fuck aff back tae where ye came fae?”

  “The story is important, aye.”

  “Why did ye set me and ma pals up?”

  “Ah don’t know whit ye’re talking aboot.”

  “Aye, right,” she grumbled, taking a draw ae her fag.

  “Whitever ye may think, Ah hid nothing tae dae wae ye sitting in here,” he said, wae a wave ae his haun.

  “So, why ur ye here then?”

  “Ah’m working tae a tight deidline.  Ah need access tae the maws.  They still won’t gie me a sniff withoot your say-so.”

  “And Ah’m in here.  Wait until Ah get oot next Friday and then come and see me.  Ye know where Ah live.”

  “Look, Ah think it’s important that we talk straight tae each other.”

  Silence.

  “Whit Ah mean is, it’s nae good tae anywan if ye sit there sherricking me because ye don’t like whit ye hear.  That disnae dae me any good and takes up precious time that we don’t hiv,” The Rat pleaded, looking her in the eye.

  Silence.

  “If ye’ll only hear me oot, withoot melting they ears ae mine, then ye kin decide whether ye want tae sit and hiv another fag.  Noo, Ah might no get the words right the first time and if Ah don’t, then Ah’m sorry in advance.  Ah never wis good wae words.”

  “Bit, ye’re a journalist.”

  “That’s no whit Ah’m oan aboot.  Jist let me explain the situation fae where Ah’m staunin,” he said, leaning back in his chair wae his erms spread oot, in mock submission.

  “Ah’m listening.”

  “Right, bit remember, Ah need tae be frank and honest wae ye, withoot getting a lug-full.”

  Silence.

  “Right, here goes.  Ah’m no as convinced as ye seem tae be aboot ye getting hame next Friday, bit let’s look at where ye’re at.”

  “Where Ah’m at?  Ah’m in the bloody jail.”

  “There wis a ten year auld boy that goat frizzled in a fire in a dookit.  It happens aw the time.  There wis a wee boy goat droont up in the Nolly oan the same day, same age as the dookit boy.  It wis yer typical terrible weekend ae accidents.  You and me know fine well that it happens every weekend in the toon.  The fact that the same wee boy, the wan that goat frizzled, wis been hunted doon, alang wae aw his pals, wan being yer son, aw through the summer, by the local bizzies, may seem a wee bit suspicious, bit then again, maybe no.  Anyhow, Ah’ve heard oan good authority that, because that wee manky crowd wur running rings roond them, the polis upped the anti and decided tae teach the wee rascals a lesson, and burnt doon the cabin as a warning.  Unfortunately, wan ae the boys wis in the cabin when it went up in smoke, taking him wae it.”

  “Where’s yer proof?”

  “Well, the proof is getting access tae the boys and the maws, like yersel, tae hear their side ae the story.”

  “It seems a bit far-fetched tae me…and Ah’m no the only wan that thinks that.”

  “Well, whit Ah’m efter is daeing a story oan the heavy haundedness ae the local fuzz in Glesga.  So, ma story is wider than the wee boy Kelly getting done in.  There ur plenty ae examples ae kids being brutalised and beaten up by oor boys in blue, withoot any recourse tae the protection that they’re entitled tae.”

  “Ah thought ye wurnae wan fur words.”

  “Whit Ah’m saying is, this isnae Egypt or Africa we’re talking aboot here.  It’s ma job as an investigative journalist tae investigate the wrangs in society.  Withoot people like me, where wid we aw be, eh?”

  “Ye know, ye nearly hid me there…fur a second.”

  “Helen, furget whit Ah might look like tae you.  Of course Ah don’t gie a fuck aboot hauf the things Ah write aboot.  It’s whit happens efter Ah write a story that’s important.”

  Silence.

  “Don’t look at me like that.  Why the fuck did ye want me and a photographer tae come and cover yer wee demonstration up in the Toonheid, eh?  Ah’ll tell ye why.  Because ye thought that something might be done aboot warrant sales, if it ended up in the paper…that’s why.  Personally, Ah don’t gie a monkey’s aboot warrant sales.”

  “So, Ah’m wrang then? Wasting ma time trying tae protect vulnerable people who don’t know how tae staun up fur themsels due tae the weight ae the yokes they wur born wae wrapped roond their necks?”

  “Look, of course Ah’ll move oan, bit in the meantime, if Ah dae a story that allows other people tae catch oan tae something that’s no right, then maybe something will change...someday.”

  “Right, where ur ye then?”

  “Ah’ve done ma checking oot and Ah’m jist aboot there.  Aw Ah need is tae speak wae yer crowd and Ah kin take it forward.”

  “If whit ye’re saying aboot that wee boy Samuel Kelly is true, which Ah find hard tae believe, despite Liam Thompson being a shitehoose, then that’s far mair important than me or the injustice ae warrant sales.”

  “Well, even if it is true, it wid take a miracle tae prove.  Ma job is tae raise doubt in people’s minds, so as tae get people tae question whit’s acceptable or no.  Ye widnae believe whit goes oan behind the scenes and whit’s stacked up against anywan who lifts their heids above the parapet.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Ah don’t mean somewan like you.  Ye’ve jist goat a wee taste ae whit goes oan.  Ye’d never believe the hauf ae it.  There’s a book by a bloke called George Orwell.  It’s called Nineteen Eighty Four and it’s aw aboot censorship and control by the ruling party who’re called Big Brother.  Behind the scenes, the party, or Big Brother, controls everything and anywan.  If anywan stauns oot, they get crushed.  The higher ye crawl up the ladder, the crueller ye hiv tae become tae prove yer loyalty.  The guy’s a bloody genius and he definitely knew something aboot whit goes oan behind the scenes.”

  “Ah don’t hiv the time tae scratch ma arse, never mind tae read science fiction.”

  “Well, if ye ever get a minute, check it oot.  People like yersel get crushed like ants in it.”

  “Ur ye sure it’s no called Nineteen Sixty Five?”

  “The problem is, ye’re in here and Ah’m oot there.  We need tae get ye oot.”

  “Ah’ll be oot oan Friday.”

  “As Ah understaun it, ye’re in here tae get ye oot ae the way.  The high heid wans in the polis know Ah’m daeing a story.  They’re running aboot, pulling doon the hatches, as we speak.  Every wee potential threat, however unimportant it may seem, is getting looked at and dealt wae.  At first, they claimed the fire wis an accident, and then they said the fire wis probably started by boys the same age as the Kelly boy.  The latest is that they’re using the fact that wan ae their polis boxes in St James Road goat burned doon as evidence that there’s some wee local toe-rags gaun aboot, trying tae burn the place doon.  JP Donnelly is jist a dangleberry oan the arse ae the wan in control, bit he’s playing his part well…the prick that he is.  He’s put you well oot ae reach.  In the meantime, there’s a bigger game gaun oan that Ah don’t really understaun masel, bit there’s some big players involved and that son ae yers and his pals ur in the mix somewhere, so they ur.”

  “So, if Ah’m no getting oot oan Friday, why the hell ur ye sitting here, letting me smoke aw yer shite Woodbines then?”

  “Ah never said ye cannae get oot oan Friday.  Whit Ah said is, fae where Ah’m sitting, ye won’t be lying in yer ain bed next Friday night withoot a wee bit ae help fae me.”

  “Listen Tom, Dick or Paddy…whitever yer name is.  Ah never invited ye intae ma life.  In fact, Ah’m no too sure where the fuck ye came fae in the first place.  Whit Ah dae know is, Ah’m sick ae the sight ae ye awready and Ah’ve only ever clapped eyes oan ye a few times before the day.  Let’s no mess aboot here.  If ye want tae help me, help me.  If ye don’t, don’t.  Ah owe ye sweet fuck aw, so don’t start daeing me any favours.  There’s poor souls in here that ur mair deserving ae yer charity than me.”

  “Helen, whit did Ah jist say, eh?  Ah know ye’ve a right tae be angry, bit let’s me and you no fall oot, eh?”

  Silence.

  “Whit dae ye want fae me?” she eventually asked him.

  “We need tae get ye oot ae here, bit there’s wan wee problem.”

  “Aye and whit’s that then?”

  “Ma paper cannae be seen tae be involved.”

  “Right, that’s fine by me.  So, whit’s next?”

  “Did ye sack yer brief?”

  “Naw, Ah never hid wan.”

  “Aye, bit the wan the court appointed tae represent ye?  Ye telt him tae fuck aff…is that right?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Who wis it?”

  “There wis two ae them.  Howdy and Barker, Ah think they wur called.  As soon as Ah clocked them, Ah decided tae represent masel.”

  “Aye, well, ye did the right thing.  That pair ur the biggest crooks ye’ll probably ever meet in yer life.  They’re making a killing oot ae representing aw the flotsam that darkens the doors ae JP’s court.  Ah wis telt that he takes ten percent ae everything they make.  Ah’m gonnae dae a great story oan that pair ae arseholes wan ae these days, when Ah’m no so busy wae the bigger fish that Ah need tae fry in the toon.”