Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 (35 page)

Chapter Forty Six

  Helen couldnae settle doon.  She wis pacing up and doon the cell like a caged cat.  She wisnae too sure if she’d messed up by opening hersel up tae Harry Portoy, the brief that The Rat hid goat her, or if she’d saved hersel fae further humiliation.  She knew the lassies wid want tae know aw the details.  She looked o’er at Gina lying oan her back in the bottom bunk, humming the Dusty Springfield tune tunelessly.  Even though she couldnae see Gina’s face because the tap bunk wis blocking her view, it wis obvious that Gina wis jist aboot pishing hersel in anticipation ae being telt whit hid happened at Helen’s meeting.  Helen hid telt the lassies that she wis getting wan ae Glesga’s tap lawyers who’d agreed tae come oot ae semi-retirement, jist tae defend her.  Fuck, fuck, fuck, she swore tae hersel.  She must be dreaming, she cursed.  Surely tae God this couldnae be happening in real life.

  The screws hid come and took her doon tae the same room where she’d met The Rat.  She remembered hoping that he’d be a smoker.  She’d nearly fainted in anticipation when she heard the clickity clack ae Hairy Face’s shoes oan the concrete flair. The door ae the interview room hid been left open slightly, so, if she leaned a wee bit o’er tae her left, she could see straight doon the corridor, tae the iron-grilled gate at the far end.  She remembered the feeling ae frustration when Hairy Cheeks stepped through first, blocking her view ae him.

  “It’s jist doon tae the room at the end,” a man’s voice hid boomed oot ae they side-burn coated jowls ae hers, seconds before she stepped aside tae let him enter the room.

  Helen couldnae help it.  It hid been a reflex action.  She’d clasped baith her hauns up oan tae her face, covering her mooth and nose.  She hidnae been too sure whether tae pish hersel laughing or tae burst intae floods ae tears.  It hid probably been the initial shock that hid confused her brain intae paralysing her and rooting her tae the chair. She wisnae sure how long she’d held her hauns up tae her face, although she vaguely remembered taking wan ae her hauns away tae shake the shaky, trembling haun that wis held oot tae her.

  “Mrs Taylor?  Ah’m Mr Portoy, Ah’m a lawyer,” Coco The Clown hid said, introducing himsel.

  His hair hid looked as though it hidnae been combed fur aboot a month.  He’d a widow’s peak the size ae the front end ae an ironing board and a greying frizzy mop ae hair sticking oot at the sides.  He’d a large strawberry red nose, red puffy cheeks and a seven-day dark growth oan his face.  He wis wearing a chocolate broon pinstriped suit that wis four sizes too wee fur him and the bottoms ae his troosers wur hauf way up his shins. Tae tap everything aff, he’d hid oan a yellow checked shirt wae the collar sticking up at wan side and whit looked like a Partick Thistle Club tie wrapped roond his scrawny neck.  Helen tried tae remember whit his shoes wur like, bit fur the life ae her, her mind hid gone blank.  Probably fur the best, she thought, as she quickened her pace back and forward alang the length ae the cell.

  “Ah hope ye don’t mind, bit Ah’ll hiv tae take the weight aff ma feet. These shoes ur killing me,” he’d said, plapping his arse doon across fae her.

  It hid been at that point, that that bloody hairy, ugly, ginger side-burned man-lady ae a whore ae a poisonous screw, hid pulled the door o’er shut behind her, sporting a big cheesy grin oan that ugly manly coupon ae hers as she left them tae it.

  “Ah’ll jist be ootside” she’d smirked, the bearded cow that she wis.

  Helen couldnae remember how long she’d jist sat there, allowing the worst bout ae depression that she’d ever experienced in her entire life tae totally engulf her body, mind and soul.  It hid seemed as if she’d been rooted tae the same spot fur days, although she knew it hid only been fur a minute or so.

  “Ah kin see fae yer expression that Ah probably look a wee bit different fae whit ye wur maybe expecting.”

  “Ye widnae happen tae hiv a fag oan ye, preferably Capstan full strengths, by any chance, wid ye?” Helen hid somehow managed tae croak, lips trembling, feeling the tears building up behind her eyes in despair.

  “Ah don’t smoke masel…” he’d said, disappointing Helen, before pulling oot twenty Woodbines and a box ae Swan Vestas. “…bit Sammy asked me tae gie ye these.”

  Despite being in a daze, Helen hid managed tae stick a fag between they trembling lips ae hers and strike a match.  She’d hardly been able tae light the fag as her haun wis shaking like a leaf.

  “Ah’d gie ye a haun, bit Ah don’t think Ah’d be much help,” he’d said kindly, wae an apologetic smile, haudin up a trembling haun that wis shaking worse than hers wur.

  Efter taking a deep drag ae nicotine doon intae her lungs, she’d jist sat and stared at him blankly.  She’d then gone intae total meltdoon.  She remembered seeing her life pass by in front ae her.  Jimmy, the weans, the hoose, her life.  She hidnae hid the strength tae stoap her shoulders fae slumping.  She’d known that she wis well and truly goosed.  She hidnae been able tae stoap her bottom lip fae trembling, despite trying tae remain calm.  Somewan, somewhere wis surely taking the piss and it wisnae very funny fae where she wis sitting.

  “If Ah tell ye ma story first, will ye tell me yours, Helen?” a voice, miles away in the distance hid asked. 

  She couldnae remember, bit she thought she’d nodded.  Whether she hid or no, Coco hid started aff by saying that he hidnae spoken tae anywan aboot himsel in a very long time.  She wisnae too sure how long he’d spoken fur…maybe an hour or so…bit she’d only been hauf listening, although she’d found his voice soothing.  A couple ae times, she’d focussed oan his face as she thought she’d detected bitterness in his voice, bit she could’ve been mistaken.  He’d even managed a couple ae chuckles that hid goat a weak smile fae her in response.  She hidnae known how long it hid been since he’d finished his story bit when she’d at last lifted her eyelids and looked at him, he’d been sitting looking back at her.

  “Ah don’t know where tae start,” she’d admitted.

  “Where ye like.”

  “It’s too complicated.”

  “Ah don’t hiv tae be anywhere in a hurry.”

  “Ah know why Ah’m here, bit the reason fur me being here isnae because ae whit happened in John Street last week,” she’d finally said, staunin up.

  “Tell me aboot it then.  Start where ye feel the maist comfortable.”

  Helen smiled wae embarrassment, thinking back, as she quickened her pace in the cell, taking a deep drag fae her un-tipped Woodbine fag.
She wis starting tae make hersel dizzy.  Gina lay still oan her bottom bunk, no sure whether tae say something tae her or no.  Helen avoided gieing Gina eye contact, jist like she’d done wae him.

  He must’ve thought he’d a real loony oan his hauns.  She didnae know where it hid aw come fae. She’d jist let rip.  She’d actually been able tae taste the bitterness in her mooth as she poured oot everything tae this wee soul ae a man who wis sitting there shaking, looking like a circus clown that she used tae take the weans tae see across in the Kelvin Hall at Christmas.  She’d spoken aboot her aunt Jeannie and how she’d felt abandoned when Jeannie hid left tae go tae Spain, despite the fact that she wisnae her ain maw, aboot how she’d ended up pregnant no long efter meeting Jimmy, efter bouncing Pat Molloy’s engagement ring aff ae his foreheid fur cheating oan her, aboot the weans, the hoose, her pals, the polis coming tae the door efter Charlie, her eldest, hid knocked oot Batty Smith, the heidmaster at his primary school, aboot the warrant sales, the devastation ae seeing her neighbours staunin in the middle ae empty rooms, surrounded by screaming weans efter their furniture and beds hid been sold fae under them fur pennies, aboot her fear ae waiting fur her turn and desperately trying tae avoid it, aboot Betty next door telling her tae hing back and no get so involved and aboot the poor souls who couldnae read and write that she’d come across since she’d been in the jail.  She’d raved and ranted non-stoap.  She remembered breaking doon in tears and then coming back in a raging rant and then it hid been aw o’er.  He’d no said a word during her ranting, apart fae a few wee soothing utterances every noo and again. When he hid spoken, it hid sounded like genuine concern.

  “Dae ye want a wee bit ae time oan yer ain, Helen?  Ah could always go oot and come back in ten or fifteen minutes.”

  “Naw, Ah’m fine,” she’d lied, shattered.

  “Ur ye sure?”

  “Aye, Ah’m okay noo,” she’d croaked in a trembling voice, reaching o’er and lighting up another fag, feeling desolate. 

  She’d been surprised tae see that her hauns hid stoapped shaking.  He’d jist sat there wae they watery eyes ae his, watching her puff away at her fag. 

  “Did ye know that a hunner and fifty wummin in the untried hall, in here, hiv tae plead wae the wardresses…the screws…fur a skimpy wee paper-thin sanitary towel, while there’s a tuck shoap cell, staunin wae three big shelves stacked tae the gunnels wae packets ae Dr Whites, that nowan kin afford tae buy because they hivnae two pennies tae rub thegither?” she’d snarled at him bitterly.

Efter whit seemed like ages, he’d spoken again.

  “So, where ur ye at jist noo then, Helen?”

  “How dae ye mean?”

  “As Ah understaun it, ye’re back up tae court oan Friday.  Whit’s yer plans?”

  “As Ah understaun it, Ah think Ah’m in dire need ae a lawyer,” she’d replied, her voice a bit mair under control.

  “Whit makes ye say that?”

  She’d telt him aboot whit hid happened when she’d telt Howdy and Barker, the court jesters, tae piss aff when she wis last up in court, because she knew as soon as she’d clapped eyes oan them, that they wur a pair ae useless chancers.  She’d telt him that she wisnae too sure if that hid been a mistake, given whit The Rat hid telt her aboot whit she wis up against.

  “Ah don’t know them personally, bit Ah’ve heard aboot them.  The law is like any other business.  Some people ur happy tae break even, while others…well, let’s jist say, ur oot tae screw anything that isnae screwed doon, if ye know whit Ah mean?” he’d said.

  “So, dae ye think Ah’m in need ae a lawyer then?”

  “Fae whit Ah’ve witnessed so far, Ah’m no sure anywan could dae a better job than whit ye kin dae yersel.”

  “Ye’re supposed tae be a lawyer.  Why wid ye say that?”

  “When ye speak, ye speak wae passion and belief.  Ah’ve nae reason tae disbelieve anything ye’ve said tae me.  How could anywan, any solicitor, compete wae that?”

  “Ah don’t hiv the big words tae go wae it.”

  Silence.

  “Whit Ah mean is, Ah get angry and end up losing ma rag and it aw goes tae pot,” she’d confessed miserably.

  “Maybe ye jist need tae take a big deep breath before ye let rip wae that tongue ae yers.  The trick is tae let people speak, let them dig a hole fur themsels.  Kid oan that ye’re listening, even if ye’re no, although it’s important tae hear whit yer opponent is saying, as well as looking fur clues in their body language.”

  Helen didnae know why she’d said whit she did, given her first impressions ae him, bit she’d decided tae bite the bullet.

  “Will ye represent me?”

  “Ah suspect Ah’d be mair ae a liability than a help tae ye, hen.”

  Silence.

  “Even efter everything Ah’ve jist said and telt ye aboot ma situation?”

  “And efter everything Ah’ve jist said and telt ye aboot ma situation?” he’d replied, wae a faint smile.

  Silence.

  “Ye cannae dae this tae me.  Ah won’t bloody beg,” she’d retorted.  “Ah realise Ah need some help here and fae where Ah’m sitting, ye’re aw Ah’ve goat.”

  “It’s a bit mair complicated than whit ye think.”

  “Try me.”

  “If ye wur up at the High Court, nae problem.  If ye wur even up at the Sheriff Court, nae problem, bit the District Court?  That’s another ball game aw thegither.”

  “So, it’s no important enough fur ye then.  Is that whit ye’re saying tae me?”

  “Naw, Helen, whit Ah’m saying tae ye is this.  If it wis the High Court or the Sheriff Court, Ah’d probably be able tae help ye and even maybe run rings roond the prosecution, if Ah wis lucky.  In fact, it probably widnae even go forward beyond the pleading diet.  In these two courts, there’s protocol and legal argument.  Wan side puts forward its case while the other side listens and that’s how it goes, back and forth.  Then, some other legal person, in this case, a qualified judge or sheriff, who’s sitting there, taking score oan the points made, assists a jury tae make the right decision, based oan testimony and evidence.  Ah’m surprised ye didnae end up in the Sheriff Court, seeing as ye’re charged wae assaulting a polis sergeant tae his severe injury.  It’s quite unusual fur the District Court tae be dealing wae a case like this.”

  “Ah still don’t get where ye’re coming fae.  Maybe it’s aw they big words Ah’m hearing.”

  “Whit Ah’m saying is, the District Court is a bear-pit where anything goes.  Ah probably widnae last mair than two minutes. The only legal thing aboot it, is that it’s there.  Ye hiv a wee man, wae nae legal training or qualifications, who is usually wan ae yer local cooncillors, who also happens tae be a Justice ae the Peace, who runs it like a medieval fiefdom.”

  “See, there ye go again wae they big fancy words.”

  “Helen, whit Ah’m trying tae tell ye is, there isnae a solid base fur legal argument tae debate and influence the ootcome.  The prosecuting fiscal is basically there tae advise the bench, who never, or at least, very rarely, takes a decision withoot the approval ae the prosecutor beforehaun.  Ah cannae remember when Ah last heard ae a Justice ae the Peace gaun against a fiscal, certainly no in Glesga anyway.  There ur exceptions.  Ah mean, ye’ve goat JP Donnelly, who’ll go against a fiscal, bit only when he thinks the fiscal is being too lenient, which is a rare occurrence in itsel.  Fiscals ur dependent oan a healthy score sheet tae enable them tae climb oot ae the morass that is the District Court system.”