The Wummin: The Glasgow Chronicles 5 (28 page)

  “Right, well, gentlemen, thank you for that.  Let’s wait and see what Jack Tipple and his two laddies come up with next week, eh?”

Chapter Forty Nine

  Pearl pulled the collar ae her jaicket up further tae keep the wind fae blowing doon the back ae her neck as she crossed Keppochhill Road diagonally tae the fire station side, opposite Springburn Public Halls.  It wis only when she wis staunin in the middle ae the road, tae let a number 32 past her, that she spotted the squad car, sitting, tucked in at the corner ae Millarbank Street.  She couldnae see their faces in the shadow ae the car, bit she knew it wid be that Stalker wan and wan ae his pervo sidekicks, undressing her wae their eyes.  She shivered, as the lit-up windaes ae the bottom deck ae the bus swished past her and stoapped at the bus stoap ten yards further oan.  If she’d known they wur sitting there, she wid’ve jist kept walking and crossed the road tae Jonah’s Lounge fae the corner ae Springburn Road.  By the time she reached the pavement oan the other side, she could feel the two sets ae eyes following her, unblinking, silent...scary.  Despite the cauld and the drizzling wet darkness, she wis glad tae see that there wur still people oot and aboot.  Everywan in the Toonheid, where she’d grown up before moving tae Springburn, hid called Sergeant McPhee ‘The Stalker’ because he wis always creeping aboot the closemooths and back-courts ae the tenements at aw hours ae the night, watching whit wis gaun oan.  When Pearl wis younger, her ma hid goat arrested, alang wae some ae her pals, fur fighting wae the polis and Sheriff officers at some warrant sale.  It must’ve been a Friday, because her maw hid hid tae stay in the cells o’er the weekend.  Tae make matters worse, the Monday hid been a holiday and the courts hidnae opened until the Tuesday.  A social worker and two bizzies hid come tae the hoose tae take her and her big sister intae care because her da wisnae aboot at the time.  Efter chasing them aboot the hoose, The Stalker hid managed tae grab oan tae her, at the same time as her sister hid goat nabbed by the big fat female social worker, who’d looked as if she wis trying tae impersonate a wrestler.  Her sister, Karen, who wis four years aulder than Pearl, hid managed tae get a haud ae Pearl’s leg and hid held oan tight, while The Stalker hid tried tae wrench her oot ae her grasp.  She could still remember screaming the place doon, absolutely petrified, as The Stalker shouted and cursed at her sister tae let go ae her leg.  Every night fur years efter that, she’d waken up through the night screaming the place doon, worrying that The Stalker wis coming tae take her away.  It probably didnae help that her ma used tae shout through tae her and her sister when they wur in their beds at night, that if they didnae pipe doon wae their chattering, then she’d gie The Stalker a shout tae come and get them.  The threat always worked.  She managed a wee fly glance across the road.  The two figures wur staring straight at her, unseen eyes under the shadow ae their polis hats.  The Stalker probably thought nowan knew whit he wis up tae, bit everywan and their dug knew he wis a creepy peeping Tom, peering intae people’s windaes, hoping tae catch a swatch ae wan ae the wummin undressing.  Jist before Christmas, Helen Birnie, wan ae her pals, hid sat in the darkness ae her bedroom, looking oot the windae doon intae the lanes at the back ae her hoose, watching the filthy pig staunin clocking Willie Mason’s eldest lassie, Gwen, gieing hersel a body wash at the sink efter finishing her shift at Burns’s, wan ae the pubs oan Springburn Road.  Helen hid telt her that Gwen hid been bare doon tae her waist, and The Stalker hid jist stood there in the darkness, no moving, panting clouds blowing in and oot fae that mooth ae his, hivving a good auld gander at whit wis gaun oan.  Even though she’d telt her maw everything...well, almost everything, she’d decided no tae mention the latest peeping escapade oan that occasion, seeing as her maw hid awready been charged wae assaulting The Stalker and that other big sergeant wan they called Bumper at wan ae the warrant sales they attended.  This latest info wid’ve been like a red rag tae a bull, so it wid’ve.  Pearl didnae really hiv any problems wae the polis in general, bit she knew it wis always wise tae steer well clear ae them.  ‘Where wid we be withoot them?’ she’d written in an essay when she wis at primary school.  It wis a different story wae that maw ae hers though.  Her maw and aw her pals no only hated them, bit took a lot ae pleasure in bating them at every chance they goat.  She could still remember the response she’d goat when she wis aboot ten or eleven, when she’d innocently asked her maw why she hated the polis.

  “Me?  Yer wee maw…hate the polis?  Noo, whitever gied ye that idea?  Ah jist don’t like the way The Corporation uses them as an instrument tae keep aw us wummin doon, so Ah don’t.”

   Pearl hid always wanted tae go back and ask her maw whit she’d meant, bit by the time she’d goat roond tae it, she’d been auld enough tae suss it oot fur hersel.    She’d heard that The Stalker hid jist goat some sort ae promotion.  Helen Taylor and Issie McManus, a couple ae her maw’s best pals, hid been roond at her hoose the night before, discussing whit wis happening wae Helen’s election.  It hidnae taken that maw ae hers long tae get oan her soapbox.

  “Hiv ye seen that Stalker wan, running aboot wae shiny new braids oan they shoulders ae his as if he’s a bloody general?” her maw hid come oot wae before Helen and Issie hid even unbuttoned their coats.

  “Who?  The Stalker?  Oor Stalker?”  Helen hid asked.

  “Noo, whit in heaven’s name wid they go and promote a creepy basturt like him fur, eh?  Ye wid’ve thought there wis plenty ae other even bigger shitehooses tae promote, rather than that pervo,” Issie hid exclaimed, relishing the slagging match.

  “Ach, he’s no any better or worse than the other wans we’ve dealt wae o’er the years,” Helen hid come oot wae.

    “See, there ye go, Helen…defending the indefensible, so ye ur.  Ur ye sure ye hivnae goat some sort ae saft spot fur that peeping perverted prick?” her maw hid chided.

  “Me?  Aye, ye’re right, Sharon.  Me and The Stalker, that wid be some wedding photo, so it wid,” Helen hid said, as they’d aw cackled.

  “Did ye ever get yer good bar towel back fae him then?”

  “Whit bar towel?”

  “The wan ye gied him tae stoap the bleeding efter wan ae the lassies scudded him at Mary Porter’s warrant sale up in Kendrick’s Street jist before Christmas?”

  “Oh, that?  Christ, Ah’d furgoat aw aboot that.  Ah jist hope he disnae find oot that Issie hid been slobbering and blowing her nose intae it aw that morning before Ah gied it tae him tae put in his gub tae stoap the bleeding, eh?” Helen hid said, as the three ae them cracked up laughing again.

  Pearl arrived safely oan tae the pavement oan the other side ae Springburn Road in wan piece, despite a bus driver speeding up, hoping tae catch her oot.  She pushed open the lounge door and wis immediately engulfed in the escaping heat and Jeff Beck belting oot ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining’ o’er the chatter ae her pals, who wur sitting in the corner in a big semi-circle, opposite the lounge door.  There used tae be a speaker up oan the wall in that corner, bit wan ae The Mankys hid taken it doon efter the lassies hid complained that they couldnae hear themsels hivving a good chin-wag wae the racket coming oot ae it.  Alex The Manager didnae seem tae hiv noticed that it hid gone, despite the square white patch, staunin oot like a sore thumb, oan the red velvet flocked wallpaper.  The lounge wisnae that big, bit it wis big enough tae accommodate Pearl and her pals at wan end while The Mankys hung aboot doon at the far end, closer tae the bar and the toilets, where they hammered oot their shady deals.  When she stepped through the door, she automatically glanced doon tae where The Mankys wur.

  “Whit?  Hiv ye lost something then, Pearl?” Helen Birnie shouted.

  “Naw, naw, Ah wis jist hivving a wee swatch, tae see who wis aboot,” she replied, squeezing in between Aggie McCoy and Senga Jackson, her best pal.

  “Ye’re no still fancying that bag ae bones, Johnboy Taylor, ur ye?” Frances Smith shouted oot loudly, as Pearl looked aboot, aghast, in case Johnboy heard her.

  “Ach, don’t worry, Pearl, Ah jist saw him nipping intae the bog, so Ah did,” Senga said, gieing her knee a wee squeeze and a reassuring smile.

  “And by the way, Frances, Ah never said Ah fancied Johnboy,” she lied.

  “Oh, Pearl, shut yer arse...everywan knows ye fancy him, don’t we, girls?”

  “Aye!” they aw shouted, laughing and throwing their damp cardboard beer mats at her.

  “Ah never did!  When hiv any ae youse ever heard me saying that, eh?”

  “Ye telt me the other night there, so ye did.  In fact, if ma memory serves me well, ye even said that if he disnae invite ye tae the pictures soon, then ye’d ask him yersel,” Senga said, laughing.

  “Arghhhh!” Pearl screamed, slapping her pal oan the shoulder, as the lassies aw laughed, bursting intae the chorus ae ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining.’

  “Uh, oh, don’t look, bit lover boy is heiding this way, so he is.  Quick, act casual, Pearl,” Paula Baker hissed, exaggerating her best casual pose.

  “Hellorerr, girls.  Whit ur youse aw hivving then?” Helen Taylor’s youngest asked them.

  “Oh, hello, Johnboy,” Pearl said wae a dazzling smile, as aw the lassies fell aboot laughing.

  “Whit?  Hiv Ah goat dribbles or something?” Johnboy asked them, wae a big grin spread across his coupon, looking doon at the fly oan his troosers.

  “Here ye go, Johnboy.  That’s everybody’s, except fur Pearl here,” Frances said, haunin o’er a bit ae paper wae everywan’s drink written oan it.

  “Whit ur ye fur, Pearl?”

  “A date?” Helen suggested.

  “Sorry, Ah’m taken.  Did Ah no hear that ye wur gaun oot wae Silent, Helen, or his he dumped ye as well?” Johnboy asked, laughing.

  “Johnboy, she meant Pearl, ya eejit, ye.”

  “If Pearl wants a date, she only needs tae ask.  Isn’t that right, Pearl?” Johnboy retorted smoothly.

  “Ah’ll hiv a hauf pint ae lager and lime, Johnboy,” Pearl said, glaring at her pals, who wur aw sitting there nodding towards Johnboy, willing her oan tae ask him oot.

  “Aye, mind you, ye wur definitely drunk when ye said ye wur gonnae ask him tae take ye oot, Pearl,” Senga said loudly, as Johnboy heided aff tae get them a roond ae drinks.

  “Ah bloody hate aw youse, so Ah dae.  Dae ye think he saw the beamer oan that face ae mine?” Pearl asked them, still feeling her face burning.

  “No under these shite lights.  Bit they freckles?  Well, even a blind man widnae miss them oan a dark night,” Frances said, enjoying hersel.

  “Frances, ye’re still such a cow, fur somewan who’s been dumped by yer last three boyfriends,” Pearl retorted.

  “Er, it wis four,” Frances laughed, as the voice ae Bob Dylan howled aboot somewan wearing his Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat through the speakers as Johnboy arrived back wae a tray ae drinks.

  “Here ye go, ma wee bunch ae dandelions.”

  “Dandelions?  Ur they no whit gardeners call ‘pish-the-beds?’” Aggie asked.

  “Ach, well, never mind, Alex telt me that he goat the seats up in this corner specially lined wae polythene sheeting underneath the fabric when he goat them re-covered a few months ago, jist tae save the other punters getting a wet arse efter youse hiv vacated the premises,” Johnboy replied.

  “So, Johnboy, where ur ye taking Pearl then?” Frances asked him.

  “Frances!”

  “Aye, well, ur ye sure ye’ve goat the right boy?  Dae ye no mean Snappy?  He’s goat a saft spot fur wee Pearl...at least, that’s whit he telt me,” Johnboy replied, body swerving the subject.

  “Ignore them, Johnboy, they’re jist winding ye up, so they ur,” Pearl said, blushing.

  “Don’t ye worry, Pearl. Ah know whit their game is, so Ah dae,” he said, before swaggering back tae they pals ae his.

  “Frances, Ah bloody-well hate ye, so Ah dae, ya cow, ye.”

  “Ach, Pearl, Ah’m only hivving a laugh, so Ah am.”

  “Aye, don’t worry, Pearl, Ah’ve been there and back and believe you me, it wisnae anything tae write hame aboot,” Aggie McCoy quipped, tae sniggers.

  Pearl wanted tae lean o’er and tear the eyes oot ae Aggie’s face.  If she didnae hiv tae hing aboot and hiv a chat wae Senga aboot the social worker, she wid’ve left.  She found it difficult tae haud back the tears.  She’d fancied Johnboy Taylor since she wis aboot twelve, even though he wis nearly two years aulder than her.  She’d hardly ever seen him due tae the fact that when she wis younger, he always seemed tae be oan the run fae approved schools and mair recently because he’d been away in borstal.  When she wis twelve and he wis oan the run, she’d asked him if she could write tae him, bit he’d telt her he couldnae remember the address ae the approved school he’d been oan the run fae.  Oan her thirteenth birthday, he’d sent her a massive teen birthday card fae wherever it wis he wis hiding oot while trying tae avoid the polis.  ‘Hiv a nice birthday, Freckly’ it hid said and he’d even put a wee x as a kiss mark oan it.  When she’d showed it tae her maw, she’d opened the card and put if up tae her nose, sniffed it, before declaring “Aye, Ah knew it.  Ah kin smell the diesel.  He’s probably been stripping electric cable fae across oan some railway depot, so he his.”

   No long efter receiving her birthday card, Pearl hid heard that he wis lying low in the Toonheid and her and Senga hid dogged school wan day tae go and see if they could track him doon.  It hid never occurred tae her that she widnae hiv hid a clue whit tae say tae him if she’d found him.  Her maw and Helen used tae tease her aboot her crush oan him.

   “Ignore them, Pearl, they’re only winding ye up.  So, whit’s the score wae that horrible boss ae yers then?  Did ye manage tae hiv a word wae her?” Senga asked.