Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 (56 page)

  “Ah cannae bloody believe that,” Silent said in wonder, shaking his heid, bit being ignored.

  “Here, it says here that ma ma is a…is an habitual complainer because she complains aboot everything.  She’s also violently aggressive towards Corporation officials.  It says that staff hivnae tae visit the hoose oan their ain…ha, ha.  It also says here that we’re always skint, despite ma da working,” Johnboy said tae everywan.

  “At least they’ve goat her doon tae a T, eh?  Ah widnae want tae cross that mad maw ae yers.  Remember that time, doon at the bizzy station?  Ah thought they fucking bizzies wur gonnae shite themsels, right there and then,” Joe said tae mair laughter.

  “Ah bet none ae youse ur psychos though,” Tony added wae a grin splashed across his coupon.

  “Let me see,” Paul said, as him and Joe crowded roond behind Tony’s back tae hiv a gander.

  “Tony, it disnae say ye’re a psycho, ya daft tit-heid, ye.”

  “Aye it dis…look.”

  “It says, ye’re a psycho when ye’re angry.  That’s no a real psycho, ya daft basturt, ye,” Joe, the psychiatrist, said knowingly.

  “Ah cannae believe they lying basturts telt me that ma granny and granda didnae want tae know me, the dirty basturts that they ur,” Silent said oot loud, still being ignored.

  “How the fuck wid somewan like you
know whit a psycho is or no?” Tony shot back at Joe indignantly.

  “He’s right, Tony.  A real psycho is somewan who goes aboot being a psycho whether he’s angry or no.  Ye’re only hauf a psycho, according tae that report,” Paul mocked him.

  “And ye’re hauf a tit.  Ah cannae believe ye’re agreeing wae Jessie-boy o’er there, the wan who wis an altar boy, hinging aboot wae priests, daeing fuck knows whit.”

  “Listen, don’t take it oot oan me, ya hauf psycho, ye.  It’s no ma fault they think ye’re only hauf aff yer heid.”

  Oan and oan it went.  The biggest laughs came when they wur reading o’er the Garngad Uglies’ files.  At wan point they wur aw bent o’er in hysterics, jist aboot pishing themsels.  Seemingly, Freckles’ uncle, Wan-bob Broon, who they aw knew well, hid been a fucking cattle rustler.  Imagine, a cattle rustler fae Glesga?  They kept throwing page efter page oan tae the fire tae keep it gaun, until they ran oot.  Then the bag belonging tae ‘Miss F Flaw’ followed the files.  They kept Baby’s file tae show him when he turned up, as they wur expecting tae see him oan hame leave anytime soon.

  “Nae wonder that Fanny wan didnae want tae gie me a peek ae ma file, the cheeky lying cow,” Tony scowled, throwing his full file oan tae the fire.

Chapter Twenty Four

  It hid been o’er two weeks since that manky bunch hid escaped fae Thistle Park and there wis still nae sign ae them, apart fae Jemima Skid’s windae getting panned in, up oan Glebe Street, and some denims being blagged.  It wisnae like them, Bumper thought tae himsel, scanning the tenements across the street fae Sherbet’s.

  “Ah’m no convinced they’re here, Fin.  Ah think the wee shitehooses arrived, stayed o’er a night or two and then fucked aff up tae Possil or Springburn.  If they wur here, we wid’ve picked up their trail before noo,” sniffed The Stalker. 

  “Aye, Ah wis jist thinking that masel, Paddy, bit Ah kin sense the presence ae they basturts.  It’s like a bad smell that won’t go away, so it is.  Ah still think they’re laying low, which Ah grant ye, is unusual fur them.  Ah wid’ve thought that the draw ae aw these shoaps wid’ve been like a fly tae a shite and that they wid’ve been oot and aboot, plundering everything in sight.”

  “Ah’ve hung aboot roond the back ae the Taylors’ hoose fur three solid days and nights and there’s still nae sign ae him.  Ah wis well pissed-aff wae that bampot oan the desk doon at Central fur responding tae a stalker call.  As soon as that Black Maria turned intae Montrose Street, Ah knew ma cover wis blown.  Ah jist aboot punched they pair ae fucking eejits who came through the Taylors’ close intae the back, shining their torches aw o’er the place.”

  “Did the caller leave a name?”

  “Naw, bit it widnae surprise me if Taylor’s maw wis behind it.”

  “So, whit ur ye wanting tae dae noo?”

  “Why don’t ye take the car and heid up McAslin Street and double back doon Stirling Road.  Ah’ll meet ye at the other side ae Canning Lane oan Cathedral Street.  Ah’ll cut through the backs here and make ma way o’er tae ye.  Ye never know, Ah might get a wee unexpected whiff ae them.”

“Right, Paddy.  Ah’ll see ye in twenty minutes.” 

Chapter Twenty Five

  Johnboy thought that it wis true whit people said aboot everything coming in threes.  The first thing happened when Johnboy and Silent wur oan their way back tae the hoose, dodging in and oot ae the closemooths and back courts, wae a box ae briquettes in each ae their erms.  They’d nipped back fae the briquette plant up in Pinkston, alang Baird Street and past the sawmill, before dashing doon oan tae Parly Road via Dobbies Loan and cutting through the back courts tae come oot ae the closemooth beside Sherbet’s.  The baith ae them hid jist aboot shat themsels when they nearly walked straight intae Bumper and The Stalker, who wur staunin oan the pavement in front ae the shoap.  Wance the bizzies moved aff, Johnboy and Silent hung aboot fur aboot five minutes before nipping across the road and up the stairs intae the den.  When they arrived, Tony, Joe and Paul wur through at the back kitchen windae, watching The Stalker slowly make his way through the backs and up o’er the dykes, stoapping every noo and again tae peer intae empty hoose windaes or stare up at the buildings.

  “So, ye’ve awready clocked them?” Johnboy asked, joining the peeking party.

  “Aye, we’ve been watching him and Bumper oot the front.  We wur jist waiting fur youse pair tae walk roond the corner fae St James’s Road straight intae them,” Paul replied.

  “We wur waiting fur them tae shift fae the back close beside Sherbet’s.  They’re wondering if we’ve moved oan.  The Stalker thinks we might be up in Possil or Springburn.”

  “Aye, ye kin see he thinks that,” Joe murmured, no taking his eyes aff the creeper, who wis making his way o’er the tap ae a dyke, before disappearing.

  “Guess who we’ve jist clocked?” Johnboy asked cheerfully.

  “Tiny,” Tony said knowingly. 

  They’d been keeping scores oan which wan ae them hid clocked Tiny the maist.  Paul wis at the tap ae the league while Silent wis languishing at the bottom. 

  “It’s better than that.  We know where he’s working.”

  “Where?” three voices asked at wance, turning away fae the kitchen windae, looking at Johnboy.

  “Up at the invisible water tower oan the railway line, alang fae the briquette plant.  We clocked him gaun o’er the wee bridge at the tap ae Glebe Street.  He went past the plant and then turned left intae the sheds.  At first, we thought we’d lost him up oan Pinkston Road, bit we clocked him again when we wur walking back alang the other side ae the Nolly.”

  “Whit wis he daeing?”

  “Who knows?  He went up the steps ae the auld water tower building and disappeared through the door at the tap.  He wis humphing a bag wae baith hauns.  It looked like it could be tools.”

  “And ye didnae go and see whit he wis up tae?”

  “We wur oan this side ae the canal.”

  “The basturt’s stripping the inside ae the invisible water tank.  Ah’d bet Silent’s money oan it,” Paul said excitedly.  “That big tank will be the same as the water tanks ye get in the lofts ae these tenement buildings.  The inside ae them ur lined wae lead…the thieving wee midget.”

  “That’s probably the reason we keep seeing that wee arse ae his at the tap end ae Glebe Street and Parly Road.  He’s probably been working oan it fur a few days noo.”

  “He put the horse and cart roond the back ae the building, oot ae the way.  Ye widnae know it wis there unless ye bumped intae it,” Johnboy said.

  “So, whit’s the plan then, Tony?”  Joe asked, as they aw stared at Tony.

  “We’ll gie it another ten minutes until The Stalker is well oot ae the way.”

  “Ah think we should heid aff the noo,” Paul said, looking at the eager eyes ae the others.

  “Right, Paul.  You go and see where The Stalker his went tae while we heid up towards Cuddies Park,” Tony said, as Paul heided through tae the lobby and disappeared oot ae the door.

  They wur jumping up and doon and flailing their erms roond their bodies oan the grass embankment behind the dirty red brick building, in an attempt tae keep warm, waiting fur Paul tae join them.  They wur watching Joe, who wis doon talking tae Charlie, Tiny’s horse, and feeding him some Gypsy Creams.  Joe suddenly stoapped whit he wis daeing and came running back up the slope and re-joined the pogo-stick brigade efter clocking Paul hopping across the railway tracks.  Tony hid been explaining tae Johnboy and Silent aboot how there used tae be a big canvas pulley that swung oot fae the building at the front, beside the tracks, where the steam trains used tae stoap and get topped up wae water.  Johnboy couldnae remember hivving seen it in the past.  Tony hid said that the railways usually hid a big water tower fur the water ootside, in the open, beside the tracks, bit they’d built this tank in the tap ae the inside ae the building tae try and fool the Jerries, in case they bombed it during the war.

  “Did ye catch up wae The Stalker then?” Tony asked Paul.

  “Aye, he heided o’er intae the backs ae Montrose Street and stood looking up at Johnboy’s hoose fae wan ae the back closes opposite.  Ah wis dying tae nip up oan tae a dyke and flash ma bare arse at him, the creepy basturt.  He then cut across the grass in front ae Allan Glen’s.  Bumper wis waiting fur him at the bottom ae Canning Lane, before they disappeared up intae the Rottenrow.”

  “We’ll need tae go caw-canny wae that pair ae pricks.  The Stalker’s no tae be messed aboot wae, especially wae that Bumper wan backing him up,” Tony reminded them.

  “Is he still in there?”  Paul asked, still panting and trying tae get his breath back, as he nodded doon at the building.

  “Aye, we’ve been here fur aboot twenty minutes noo and there’s been nae sign ae him.”

  “So, whit’s the plan then?”

  “Plan?  There isnae wan.  We wur jist waiting fur you tae get back here before we went in.  Let’s go,” Tony said, as everywan stoapped pogo-ing and started tae slither sideways doon the steep embankment.

  The five ae them loitered at the tap ae the stairs, listening fur any sounds fae within.  The place wis in silence, apart fae the sound ae the mechanical rollers that hid jist started up across at the briquette plant.  Johnboy turned and looked across.  The galleys wur discharging steaming new briquettes oan tae the conveyer belt a couple ae hunner yards away fae them, beyond the mish-mash ae rusty broon rail tracks.  Tony quietly opened the door jist wide enough fur them tae squeeze in.  The place wis in darkness, apart fae a faint glow coming fae a dim light at the tap ae a set ae stairs tae their left.  Fae where they wur staunin, they could see and touch the sides ae the tall curved wooden slatted tank.  They heard an echoing cough coming fae the tap ae the stairs and whit sounded like the swishing ae water.  Johnboy could jist make oot Tony putting his finger up tae his lips, urging them tae be quiet as they crept towards the flight ae worn, wooden steps in the semi-darkness.  A constant drip could be heard.  It sounded like the echoing ping ye heard in the submarine movies when the sailors wur aw crouched doon, looking up at the ceiling, waiting fur the battleship cruiser tae come closer, Johnboy thought.  Tony wis the first wan oan tae the landing.  He turned and shook the flat ae his haun above his heid, gesturing tae them tae keep their heids doon.  Johnboy wis next tae reach the landing.  Doubled o’er, he followed Tony, as Tony crept away silently alang the narrow passageway, underneath the rim ae the tank.  As they crawled roond the slatted curve tae their right, they spotted the source ae the light.  A car battery wis sitting oan the flair wae a cable running up tae a bare bulb, which wis hinging haphazardly o’er a nail that wis embedded in a wooden beam that ran doon fae the roof.  They sat oan their haunches fur a few seconds, waiting fur the others tae catch up wae them.  At Tony’s nod, they slowly lifted their heids up towards the rim.  When they peered o’er, it looked as if the tank wis empty, until another watery cough and a splash that sounded like a fish jumping oot ae water came fae further doon inside it.  Tiny never saw them as they aw stood up and looked doon intae the water aboot ten feet below them.  He wis too engrossed in hauf swimming and hauf floating across the tap ae the surface.  The scene reminded Johnboy ae the time that himsel and Skull hid sat up at the canal at dusk, during the summer holidays, watching a solitary rat swimming aboot in circles.  A rope, like some sort ae water snake, wis floating oan the surface beside him.  Wan end ae it wis attached tae his waist and the other end wis splayed, wae whit looked like four hairy white fingers sticking oot fae where it hid been cut. They could see the other end ae the rope, trailing doon fae a beam intae the tank, jist below where the bare light bulb wis hinging.  It hid the same ragged spread-eagled fingers as the other hauf ae the rope, which wis being swished oot ae the way as Tiny swam past it, spluttering and wheezing, as he cursed tae himsel.  It wisnae difficult tae see whit hid happened. A ragged sheet ae lead wis sticking oot fae the side wall ae the tank.  It widnae hiv taken an expert tae see that while the daft wee basturt wis swinging aboot oan the end ae the rope, the serrated edge ae the lead hid sliced through it.  Up until then, he’d been as busy as a wee beaver.  The bare slatted wood ae the inside ae the tank showed up fresh and new as it must’ve looked when it hid been built years previously.  Tiny hid managed tae work roond in a curve, tearing the lead aff fae the tap ae the tank first, leaving the wood exposed.  Wance he’d retrieved the lead sheeting fae the tap ae the tank, he’d lowered himsel further doon intae it and began stripping roond the middle section.  They could see that he’d only managed tae get hauf way roond the tank when the rope hid goat sliced.  There wis aboot six feet between where he wis floating and the end ae the rope where it hid been cut.  The lead sides ae the tank wur as smooth as a baby’s arse.

  “Fuck’s sake.  Look, boys…a nasty wee hauf-droont rat…stuck in a barrel ae water,” Tony’s voice boomed aboot the chamber.

  “Eh?  Whit the…boys, boys…oh ma God, thank fuck ye’re here.  Oh God, thank ye, thank ye!” Tiny spluttered joyfully, peering up at them, the relief in they wee beady eyes ae his reflecting like diamonds in a pile ae shite oan a sunny day.

  “Whit ur ye daeing in there, Tiny, ya horrible, nasty wee fuck-pig, ye, eh?” Paul shouted doon at him, walking roond tae where the rope wis hinging o’er the side ae the tank, lifting the end up tae show it tae the others,
smiling.

  “Aye, he must’ve hid a wee accident,” Tony mused oot loud.

  “Boys, boys, help me, please?  Ah don’t know how long Ah kin keep afloat and it’s fucking perching in here,” Tiny’s voice quivered, as he swished aboot wae they erms ae his.

  “Ye’re fucking gaun naewhere, Tiny, ya wee prick, ye.  Tell us who wis involved wae you and Horsey John in burning doon oor cabin wae Skull and Elvis in it,” Paul demanded.

  “Whit?  Whit the hell ur ye oan aboot, Paul?  Ah never done anything.  Ah don’t know whit ye’re oan aboot.  Whit cabin, fur fuck’s sake?  Please, please, help me oot, boys.  Kin ye no see Ah’m struggling here,” Tiny wailed, clearly distressed and fearing that his salvation wisnae peering doon intae the tank above him efter aw.

  “Noo ye fucking know whit they poor wee kittens must’ve felt like when you and that auld limping prick wid sling a bag ae them intae the Nolly,” Joe sneered.

  “Boys, please…Ah don’t know whit youse ur oan aboot.  Please, help me. Ah hid fuck aw tae dae wae that fire, honest.  Skull and me always goat oan great wae each other, so we did.  You aw know that, Tony.  Oh ma God! Ah swear oan ma ain life,” Tiny sobbed through his cauld chattering teeth, spitting dirty water oot ae that gub ae his.

  “Tiny, we know ye wur involved.  You and that Horsey John wan.  We know full well that it wis the two ae youse who done the torching…we’ve always known that it wis you.”

  “Ah swear, Tony, Ah hid nothing tae dae wae it…honest.”

  Silence.

  “Ye’re right, it wis Horsey John, bit Ah hid nothing tae dae wae it.  Ah swear oan ma maw’s life!”

  “Tiny, don’t bloody lie tae us.  Ye wur there…ye wur seen, good and proper, so ye wur.  We even know whit youse said when ye fucked aff and left Skull and poor Elvis tae roast, so don’t fucking float aboot here, lying like the horrible wee basturt that ye ur,” Joe spat doon at him. 

  “Then ye’ll know that it wis me that wanted tae jump in and save him then, bit Horsey pulled me back…he widnae let me help.  Ah swear that it wisnae ma fault…honest…believe me, Ah swear,” Tiny wailed, the sound ae his bubbling, feart whines echoing roond the inside ae the cavernous building.

  Johnboy looked across at Tony, Joe and Paul.  They wurnae paying Tiny’s pleading and whining any attention noo.  Fae where Johnboy wis staunin, he could see the shock oan their faces, even though the light wis dim.  Silent wis behind him, so he couldnae see his reaction.  The realisation ae whit Tiny hid jist confessed tae wis written aw o’er their faces.  The wee basturt wis done bang-tae-rights, so he wis.  They hid their confession and Johnboy hid his sanity.  It hidnae been a dream efter aw.  Johnboy felt the tears welling up in his eyes.  Skull running up Parly Road wae a white box ae the City Bakeries finest mince pies in his haun, being chased by the van driver, the summer he died, flashed through Johnboy’s brain…Skull staunin oan wan leg oan tap ae The Murphys’ roof while Tony held oan tae his snake belt the night they’d tanned the loft wis another…Skull, happily teaching Johnboy how tae go aboot topping up his hunger by daeing the roonds ae the tables in the paid pink-ticketed section ae the dining hut, scoffing up the lefto’er puddings, the first day he’d arrived at Johnboy’s school.  Every time Johnboy hid heard a bugle being blown efter that summer, whether it wis fae a ragman or a Boys Brigade church parade marching up Parly Road, it always reminded Johnboy ae the time Skull blagged a bugle fae The Sally Army hut oan Stirling Road and used it tae help The Mankys sell a cart-load ae stolen briquettes.  He felt a strong urge tae jump intae the tank and pummel fuck oot ae the wee basturt’s face, bit he wis rooted tae the spot, unable tae move, his brain in turmoil.  He wanted tae throw up.