The Silver Arrow (16 page)

Chapter Twenty

“Bloody road works,” Simon muttered, flipping o’er the tape, resisting the urge tae join in wae Jackson C Frank’s ‘Blues Run The Game’.

  He turned and gied Senga a wee quick glance efter gaun through a chicane ae cones.  He smiled.  He could see her eyelids drooping.  He wis glad she’d warned him that she wis tired efter her nightshift.  It meant he could collect his thoughts.  It hid been a busy few weeks at work, as well as him hivving hid tae keep his heid doon efter hivving a run in wae wan ae Honest John’s son-in-laws.  He wisnae sure whit daughter the prick wis attached tae, bit whichever wan it wis, she wid’ve hid a fair bit ae patching up tae dae oan that coupon ae his the morning efter.  At first, he thought the hiding he’d dished oot wis the reason that Charlie Hastie hid turned up, oot ae the blue, at the warehoose a few days earlier.  Him and that right-haun man ae his, Frankie Fritter, hid jist shaken oan a deal wae the main architect ae wan ae the new office blocks at the Charing Cross end ae Elmbank Street.  The job wis worth thousands.  The guy hid jist left when Frankie hid gied him a wee nudge in the ribs.  Charlie and Peter The Plant hid jist walked intae the warehoose.

  “So, whit dae ye want me tae dae, Simon?” Frankie hid asked.

  “Don’t dae anything, bit keep that sawn-aff close by,” he’d replied, putting oan his best customer grin.

  “Christ, is this whit aw the shouting’s aboot then?” Charlie hid asked, taking a seat and looking oot through the office windae at the shoap full ae customers and busy salesmen.

  “Ur ye hivving a drink, Charlie?” Simon hid asked, opening the drawer in his desk.

  “Naw, Ah’m fine, Simon, son.”

  “Ah’ll hiv wan,” The Plant said, as Simon bypassed the bottle ae single malt wae his haun and lifted oot the Bells.

  “Is that aw ye’ve goat?” The Plant hid scowled, clearly offended.

  “Ah’m afraid so,” Simon hid replied as a grin appeared oan Charlie’s face.

  “Gaun wait ootside in the car, Peter,” Charlie hid commanded.  “Right, Ah’ll hiv a wee cheeky malt then, Simon.”

  The baith ae them laughed at the departing bear disappearing through the main entrance.

  “Prick,” Simon hid murmured.

  “Ach, Peter’s no that bad, Simon.  Ye jist hiv tae stay oan his good side…that’s aw.  Cheers,” he’d said, lifting up his glass and taking a sip.

  “So, tae whit dae Ah owe the pleasure ae yer fine company, Charlie?  If it’s a good carpet ye’re efter, Ah dae a good discount fur ma special customers.”

  “Ah’m telling ye, Simon, ye’re gonnae hiv tae watch yer Ps and Qs, so ye ur.  It’s no everywan that’s a fan, y’know.”

  “So, ye heard aboot ma wee skirmish then, Ah take it?”

  “Ye’re bloody playing wae fire there, so ye ur.  Honest John is like a rattlesnake, so he is.  He’s fine if ye leave him alane, bit if ye go poking him wae a stick, he’s liable tae bite the face aff ae ye.”

  “Aye, well, Ah’ve been trying ma best tae avoid any ae that crowd, bit Ah’m no prepared tae accept any shite aff ae them either.”

  “This is good,” Charlie said, smacking his lips and haudin up the glass and looking at it.

  “Aye, it wis a batch Ah goat aff ae Snappy before he wis sent doon.  It’s twenty-year-auld Macallan…Speyside’s finest.”

  “Talking ae which, how’s Tony?”

  “Fine…at least he wis the last time Ah spoke tae him.”

  “And young Johnboy?”

  “Aye, he’s keeping his chin up, considering.  Him and wan ae his auld flames ur back thegither, writing sweet nothings tae each other every week.  They’re talking aboot tying the knot while he’s still inside, wid ye believe?”

  “Oh, aye, and who wid that be then?”

  “Ach, Ah don’t think ye know her.  Senga Jackson?”

  “Is she no a wee nurse or something?”

  “Aye, that wid be her.  Ah think her ma and Wan-bob wur good pals at school, back in the day,” Simon hid replied, haudin his breath and looking oot fur any tell-tale signs.

  “Dis her and her pal no rent wan ae Bob Montieth’s flats?”

  “Well, originally they did, bit Ah heard the Sing Brothers hiv taken o’er since he’s retired.”

  “Aye, Ah think Wan-bob put a word in fur them efter he bumped intae the maw doon oan George Square a while back, so he did.  Hiv ye met the maw?  Fuck, she wis wild in her day…her and Helen Taylor…Johnboy’s maw.  It’s a pity poor Helen died so young…she wis a cracker, so she wis.  They don’t make them like her nooadays.”

  “Ach, well, there ye go, eh?”

  “Right, so when ur ye likely tae meet up wae yer Atalian boss then?”

  “Ah’m heiding doon oan Saturday wae Senga.  Why?”

  “Ah’ve goat a wee pleasant surprise fur him…an early Christmas present, ye could say,” Charlie hid said, haunin o’er his glass fur a tap up.  “Ye’ll be aware that him and the other two ur being considered fur parole through some special scheme?”

  “Aye, Tony mentioned it in a letter.  He says if it comes tae anything, it’ll be some time in the New Year, bit he’s no haudin his breath,” Simon hid replied, as Charlie’s grin goat wider.  “Whit?” 

  “The Big Man his been oan the case.  He’s hid us beavering away in the background fur ages noo.  Cost us a bloody fortune tae boot, so it his.  Yer boss gets oot oan Monday the 9th December…him and that other pair ae clowns…thanks tae The Big Man,” Charlie hid said casually.

  Simon hid jist aboot fell aff ae that chair ae his.

  “Dis Tony know?” he’d eventually managed tae ask.

  “The governor disnae even know, Simon, and that’s the way it’s tae stay.  Tony will be telt in a week or two, so tell him he his tae keep this tae himsel.  The social worker they’re been landed wae is a guy called Bruce Howie.  Seemingly he’s a bit ae a prick, bit Ah’m sure Tony will be able tae work roond him.”

  “Fuck, that’s brilliant, Charlie,” Simon hid grunted wae pleasure, wanting tae jump across the coffee table and gie the bear a hug.  “Ah’m sure Tony will be delighted…they aw will.”

  “Aye, well, Pat his instructed me tae pass oan tae Tony, via you, that aw the shite that’s been getting stirred up by you four manky fuckwits his tae be curbed.  That’s the only reason Pat’s goat himsel involved.  Ye’re a good boy, Simon, bit that hot temper ae yers is gonnae get ye intae trouble wan ae these days, so it is,” Charlie hid warned him, slapping him doon.

  “Ah never asked tae oversee whit wis gaun oan oot here…it’s no ma job tae keep people in check,” he’d retorted defensively, feeling himsel getting angry.

  “Look, nowan’s saying ye hivnae done well, under the circumstances.  Christ, even Ah wid struggle tae keep that pair ae big girls’ blouses, McCalumn and McAlpine in check, so don’t think Ah’m criticising ye.  Naw, ye’ve done a good job, bit you mind and tell Tony we’re expecting a bit ae peace and quiet.  Let’s jist hope he gets oot before The McCaskills get their hauns oan yer pal, McCalumn.  That stupid prick nearly killed wan ae the brothers, so he did.  The Big Man, across in Marbella, jist aboot hid a heart attack when he heard aboot that wan.  He says youse ur oan yer last warning.  He’s hid wan ae the McCaskills across there demanding the go-aheid fur a comeback.”

  “Why the fuck ur they gaun aw the way tae Spain tae talk tae The Big Man?  Tell they ugly basturts tae come and speak tae me if they’ve a problem,” Simon hid made the mistake ae snarling hotly.

  “See, that’s why The Big Man his goat himsel involved wae aw this parole shite,” Charlie hid rebuked him, a look ae disgust splashed across they ugly features ae his.

  The 9
th
ae December he’d said.  Fuck that wis only six weeks away, Simon thought, as he turned aff the A74 and heided towards The Kings Arms Hotel in Lochmaben.  He’d let Senga sleep fur as long as possible and gie her a shake wance they arrived.

Chapter Twenty One

  “How ur ye feeling the day?” Senga asked him, feeling nervous as she looked intae they sky blue eyes ae his when he arrived at the table.

“Ah’m fine noo,” he replied, smiling, gieing her a wee peck and a cuddle before sitting doon under the watchful eyes ae The Tormentor and Dickheid Dick.  “Ye smell lovely.”

  “That’s how aw us nineteen-year-aulds smell…especially wae a wee bit ae help fae Nina Ricci’s L’Air du Temps,” she replied smiling…relaxing.  “Oh, Ah see that it’s different wummin oan the tea and juice the day,” she noticed, disappointed, nodding towards the auld dears, who wur beavering away doon at the far end ae the gym hall.

  “Aye, Ah heard ye wur being entertained the last time ye wur doon here,” he said drily.

  “Ah goat tae know Alison Crawford efter she wis admitted tae The Royal wae gunshot wounds.  Ah wis a trainee nurse at the time and she wis wan ae ma first patients…at least, the first real patient that hid life-threatening injuries.

  “And she managed tae survive, despite the care being administered?”

  “Ah’m telling ye, Florence Nightingale disnae hiv anything oan me, believe you me.  When they patients see me coming wae that big needle sticking oot fae that syringe ae mine, they fairly buck up their ideas and tell me they’re well oan the road tae recovery, so they dae.”

  “So, how’s yer work gaun anyway?”

  “It’s fine.  We’re always busy.  Ah still find it difficult tae come tae terms wae the mayhem that’s happening oan the streets ae the city every other night ae the week.  Wan ae the McCaskill brothers, Peter, goat admitted aboot six weeks back.  Ye’ll remember them fae the Toonheid? Coalmen. Always up tae nae good behind the scenes?”

  “Vaguely,” he lied.

  “Aye, well, he wis in some mess, so he wis.  Some maniac in a hoose up in Rhymer Street in Roystonhill hid repeatedly stabbed him in the stomach.  He died twice in theatre, bit the surgeon managed tae bring him back.”

  “Did he say who done it?”

  “Ah don’t think so.  Wan ae the lassies said he widnae talk tae the polis aboot how he ended up dumped in a rubbish bin doon oan St James Road.  She said the polis wur expecting a lot ae trouble o’er it, bit so far, the chaos in casualty his jist been as bad as it normally is wae nae noticeable change fur the worse.  Ah’m mair concerned aboot the situation wance yer pal gets oot,” she said, nodding o’er his shoulder at Tony.

  “Is that meant tae be a joke?”

  “Aye,” she replied, laughing.

  “So, how is she then?” Tony asked Angelo, which wis Simon’s nom de plume.

  Simon used the name ae Angelo Dundee, Muhammad Ali’s trainer, tae gain access tae the jail visiting sessions. His previous convictions barred him fae access, so false ID wis required.

  “She seems fine.  She slept maist ae the way doon.  She’s oan the nightshift.

  “So, whit’s the score then?  Ye look as if ye’re gonnae pish yer pants.”

  “Ah hope ye’re sitting comfortably,” Angelo warned him, drapping his voice and leaning forward wae his erms folded oan the table between them.  “That special parole application that ye’re keeping a secret fae everywan isnae a secret anymair.”

  “How dae ye mean?”

  “Ah goat a wee visit fae that Charlie Hastie the other day there.  Ye’ve goat it, so ye hiv.”

  “Goat whit?”

  “Parole.  Youse ur aw getting oot oan Monday the 9
th
ae December, so youse ur.”

  “Ur you at it?”

  “Nope.  Seemingly, The Big Man his been working behind the scenes.  According tae Charlie, it’s The Big Man that his orchestrated it aw.  Don’t ask me how, bit Ah even know the name ae yer social worker.”

  “Fucking hell.”

  “Aye, well, there ye go.”

  “Dis anywan else know aboot this?”

  “Well, obviously Wan-bob.  Peter The Plant wis wae him when they arrived at the warehoose, bit Charlie sent him oot tae sit in the car.  Other than you and me…that’s it.  He said the governor doon here disnae even know.”

  “Fucking hell.”

  “Aye, that’s whit Ah thought.”

  “Johnboy, ur ye okay?”

  “Me?  Of course Ah am.  Why wid Ah no be?”

  “Ah mean aboot us?”

  “Us?  Er, aye…why?  Where did that wan come fae then?”

  “It’s jist that sometimes Ah get the feeling, reading between the lines in yer letters, that ye seem tae be blowing a bit hot and cauld aboot us…that maybe ye’re changing yer mind, bit fur some reason, ye’re no saying…fur whitever reason,” she rambled, looking intae his eyes.

  “It’s no that.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Ah’m no sure.”

  “Johnboy, look, Ah don’t want tae put ye under any mair pressure or stress than whit ye’re awready under, being in here,” she said tae him gently. “Ah’m happy wae the decision at ma end.  Granted, that ma ae mine isnae exactly jumping up and doon, and Lizzie…well, she cannae understaun it either, if Ah’m truthful.”

  “So, whit aboot yer da?  Whit’s he saying aboot it?”

  “He’s no really saying much, no that he kin get a word in edgewise wae Ma, mind ye.”

  “Look, Ah’m finding it difficult.  It’s jist…” he said, shaking that heid ae his, looking at her.

  “Whit?”

  “Senga, ye’re a lovely, lovely person…”

  “Bit?”

  “Ah don’t want tae end up hurting ye.  No efter aw this,” he confessed, wae a wave ae his haun.

  “Hurt me?  Johnboy, whit is it that ye’re trying tae say tae me?  Ah think Ah deserve a bit ae frankness here, don’t you?” she asked him, feeling confused, the tears welling up in her eyes.  “Look, Ah’m no wan ae these wee needy lassies.  Ah believe, despite whit others may think, that we could hiv a future thegither, bit if that isnae whit ye want, then Ah’ll respect that.”

  “It’s no that, Senga…it’s jist…it’s jist that Ah’m no sure that Ah deserve aw this…you…us getting thegither.”

  “Bit…”

  “Naw, let me finish.  Ah’m daeing fourteen years.  People who go aboot shooting bizzies don’t get parole…”

  “Bit, ye’re innocent,” she reminded him.  “It’s bound tae come oot in the wash.  Ah kin understaun ye thinking the way that ye’re thinking, bit Ah’ll be daeing whitever it takes, tae get yer sentence overturned.”

  “Ah hear whit ye’re saying, bit it’s no jist that.  Ah’m struggling tae get ma heid aroond aw this…you…me…us,” he admitted, shrugging they shoulders ae his.  “Ah’ve been gieing it a lot ae thought.  Ah’m jist no sure that Ah’m capable ae gieing ye whit ye deserve.”

  “Ah still don’t understaun.”

  “Right, don’t look at me as if Ah’m stupid or something, bit Ah’m trying tae work oot in that heid ae mine how tae love ye…how no tae disappoint ye…how tae come tae terms wae no gaun back tae the toon…how Ah’m supposed tae act in the future.  Whit if Ah fuck it up and upset ye efter you putting yer faith in somewan like me?”

  “Johnboy, listen tae me,” she replied forcibly, drapping her voice and taking his hauns in her.  “Dae ye love me?”

  “Er, aye.”

  “Naw.  Whit Ah’m asking ye is, dae ye really love me?”

  “Aye, of course Ah dae.”

  “If gied the choice and ye wur oan the ootside, free, wid ye want tae gie it a go in the future wae me?”

  “Ah’ve jist said, so.”

  “Well, listen up, ya stupid bugger, ye.  Ah’m no sure that there’s a school oot there tae address the concerns that ye’ve jist expressed.  Christ, Ah’ve never been in a relationship either, bit so whit?”

  “Gory the doctor?  Whit wid ye call that then?”

  “Johnboy, Ah went oot wae Rory Brand and aye, it wis good…and naw, it’s no something Ah feel the need tae apologise tae anywan fur…bit there wis jist something missing.  It never felt like a relationship tae me…whitever he might’ve thought.  Maybe it wis because aw his patents wur wummin or something and that he operated and treated me jist like wan ae them…Ah don’t know,” she replied wae a shrug ae her shoulders. “It wis only wance Ah wis doon here last month that Ah found whit it wis that wis missing in ma life,” she confessed softly, looking intae his eyes.

  “And whit wis that?”

  “It wis you, ya eejit, ye…honest tae God, Johnboy, whit ur ye like?” she laughed.  “Johnboy, Ah declared it then, Ah’ve repeated it in ma letters since and Ah’m saying it again noo.  Ah love ye, Ah’ve always loved ye…fur ma sins,” she added coyly, eyes smiling, looking intae his eyes.

  “Christ,” he coughed, rubbing his eye and ear wae the palm ae his left haun, absorbing which she’d jist hit him wae.