The Kellys of Kelvingrove (7 page)

‘Right,’ Jack repeated. ‘Where’s my dinner then?’

He kissed her and she clung round his neck, not wanting to let him go.

Laughing, he disentangled himself from her arms.

‘Later. First things first and that means a nice big juicy steak.’

As Paul said – to be a writer, especially a novelist, you had to be interested in people and what made them tick. You had to get around and observe people. Clive said it was much the same in art, at least the observing bit. And so, as much as they could, they went around observing and discussing what they’d seen and heard.

The West End was always fascinating, with Byres Road and the lanes, including Ashton Lane, leading off it. The people going about in that area were mostly young university students.

Just up from Byres Road were the Botanic Gardens and Clive and Paul enjoyed a walk around, then stretched out on the grass for a while before enjoying a visit to the big glass Kibble Palace. It was lovely that it was now the school summer holiday time and so they were in no rush. They took a bus into the centre of town and then walked down Buchanan Street.

Clive said, ‘I always tell people who come to visit Glasgow to keep looking up. That way they don’t miss the beautiful architecture of the buildings.’

‘Yes, and I doubt if there’s anywhere else that has so much, if any, of that warm red sandstone.’

There were the steps leading up to the Concert Hall at the top of Buchanan Street, all shaped in a half circle and covered by a rainbow of young people sitting laughing and chatting together. Further down, there were fashionable shops to visit but Clive and Paul preferred a leisurely stroll down the street, watching and listening to all the buskers.

There were two young men in kilts, one playing the bagpipes, the other rattling on the drums. Several men from Peru in huge feathered headdresses and loose leather coats were playing pan pipes and drums.

Then there was the St Petersburg brass band. Further down again, several Scotsmen in what seemed to be ancient tartan cloaks wound around their bodies and under their legs pranced about. The street led right down to the busy Argyle Street, but first Clive and Paul wandered round George Square.

Clive and Paul got the bus back up Sauchiehall Street and walked through the park, before returning to Waterside Way.

They were shocked and saddened at the situation developing in the park. Youths were lolling about drinking from bottles of wine and Buckfast – or Buckie as they called it. Many of the drinkers looked under-age. Fights sometimes broke out between gangs. Clive and Paul had also heard that drugs had been found on many of the youths. Before now, they had even seen youths urinating in the park.

‘It used to be such a beautiful, respectable place,’ Clive said. ‘If it gets any worse, we won’t be able to walk through it. It won’t be safe enough. Especially for the likes of us.’

‘I saw in the paper yesterday that there’s been a man convicted of harassing a poor guy and shouting, “Homosexuality is a sin against Jesus.”’

‘Sounds like the Reverend Denby.’

‘Yeah. There’s still too many of his kind around. I wish they would do something to make the park a safer place. There’s so many angry youths, just looking for a meeting place to drink and start trouble.’

‘I often wonder what their parents are thinking of. Don’t they know what their children are up to?’

‘Probably they don’t care. The chances are they’re out drinking or getting stupid on drugs themselves.’

‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. We’ve been lucky, Paul. Remember our mothers and fathers. Well, not so much our fathers, but our mothers were always loving and loyal.’

‘Yeah. One of my earliest memories is of a neighbour coming to my mother – I couldn’t have been more than six. Anyway, I remember this neighbour saying to my mother, “Do you know your boy’s a poof?” And my mother said, “My boy’s a good wee boy and I love him and I always will.”’

‘That was the same kind of woman my mother was – bless her. And it was her – like your mother – who taught me to be a good Christian. My mother used to go down on her knees with me beside my bed and recite the Lord’s Prayer with me.’

‘Yeah. Brave women too, weren’t they?’

‘Yes, they were. We must always try to have as much courage as them, Paul.’

And they continued their walk through the park, ignoring the violence around them.

Mae didn’t know what good it would do but she felt an urgency to go to the Art Galleries. She might find out something. At the back of her mind, of course, was the thought that while she was out of the house and Jack was at work, the robbers would come, break into the house and find the money gone. But what good would that do? She didn’t know but she was even more fearful of the robbers arriving when she was in the house. She had to get away and decided to ask Doris if she’d like to accompany her for a walk and a visit to the Art Galleries.

Doris thought it was a great idea. So without wasting a minute, they set off, with Doris holding on to one side of old Mrs McIvor and Mae holding on to her other arm.

‘I just thought,’ Mae explained to Doris, ‘that it would do both of you good to get out for a wee turn and some fresh air. Then after we’ve walked round to the Art Galleries, we can have a cup of tea in the café. It would be good for you and interesting if we could walk round and see some of the exhibits but maybe your mother wouldn’t have enough energy for that.’

‘What?’ Doris rolled her eyes. ‘She’s got more energy than both of us put together. It’s only her mind that’s gone, poor thing.’

There was no problem walking round to the Art Galleries. Indeed, the old woman, to all appearances, seemed to enjoy the experience and gazed happily around at the trees in the park and up at the beautiful architecture of the building.

Mae didn’t like the look of some of the youths hanging about in the park, however, and it was then that she remembered Jack saying something about the police trying to crack down on the under-age drinking and drug abuse in the parks. She told Doris about what she’d learned as they strolled away.

‘Gosh,’ Doris said. ‘It’s obviously fascinating being married to a police officer. You hear everything that’s going on.’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘And particularly fascinating when he’s such a handsome police officer.’

Mae managed a laugh. ‘Yes, I can’t deny he’s a handsome police officer. I’m very lucky.’

Although she felt anything but lucky at that moment. Reaching the Art Galleries, she said, ‘Do you want a cup of tea now or a look around the gift shop first?’

‘Let’s look at the gift shop. We’ve plenty of time for the tea. It’s ages since Mother and I have been in the gift shop. It’s a bit much for me to manage her outside on my own.’

‘Well, I can have a walk round to the Art Galleries with you any day. Your mother seems to be enjoying it as well. So it’ll do us all good.’

‘Wonderful!’

In the gift shop, Mae looked over at the pay counter and wondered where the robbers had got the money. The robbery couldn’t have happened during the day. There had been no reports in the newspapers of an armed hold-up and Jack would have mentioned it if there had been anything dramatic like that. So it must have been under cover of darkness and probably from a safe somewhere nearby. Or under the counter? She sidled round to one side in an effort to look behind it but wasn’t successful. The place was busy and there were several assistants crushed together, serving a queue of customers.

Doris, still clinging on to her mother, was happily admiring all sorts of articles on display. Suddenly, Mae felt guilty and hurried over to take Mrs McIvor’s other arm.

Doris said, ‘This is great. Even Mother is interested and enjoying looking at all the lovely gifts. She’s never been so quiet and well-behaved for ages.’

‘It’s the colours and sparkle of everything. There are so many gorgeous things. Copies of paintings, and exhibits, and look at that jewelry.’

Doris said, ‘It’s so wonderful to have Mother quiet like this. I confess I often feel like murdering her when she keeps repeating things over and over again at me. It drives me absolutely frantic at times.’

‘It’s understandable, Doris. But it shows you that you need to get out and about more.’

‘I do too,’ Mae thought. She was afraid to be in the house, that was her problem. What would the robbers do if they found the money had gone? She was going to save up as hard as she could and as fast as she could, to replace all the five pound notes.

But that had not happened yet and so she believed she had good reason to be afraid. Very afraid indeed.

‘It did your mother and you so much good to get out and have a bit of fresh air and exercise,’ Mae told Doris later that week. ‘So let’s do it again another day. We can take an arm each and have a walk around the park, then go to the Art Galleries as we did before. You must get bored stuck in the house so much.’

‘Gosh, I do. That would be wonderful, Mae.’

‘Well, come on. No time like the present.’

So after Doris had smoothed her mother’s glossy white hair with a brush and secured it with a couple of kirby grips, they set off.

Mae was afraid to be in the house by herself in case the robbers broke in. At the same time, she was glad to be able to help Doris and her mother.

Once more, Doris and Mae were pleased and relieved at how well-behaved the old woman was during their walk. Mrs McIvor gazed at everything with obvious interest and pleasure. There were no violent struggles.

Doris said, ‘Poor old thing. She must get bored as well.’

‘Would you look at that.’ Mae indicated a crowd of youngsters hunkered down and passing a bottle of wine from one mouth to another. ‘They can’t even have reached their teens.’

‘Surely their mothers don’t know what they’re up to.’

‘Jack says most of the mothers are either alkies or drug addicts.’

‘Alkies?’

‘Alcoholics.’

Doris sighed. ‘My mother was always so good to me. She just lived for me and Alec, when we needed her. That’s why I try to be as good to her now that she needs me.’

‘You keep saying that, Doris, but you’re going to ruin your health and be of no use to your mother or to anyone soon. You wrote to him again, didn’t you? A pleading letter?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, once your brother arrives, he’ll see for himself what’s needed. He’ll get your mother into a good nursing home. She won’t be bored there, Doris. She’ll be happy and well-cared for, as I’ve already told you several times.’

‘You’re right, Mae. My health’s cracking up with the strain of never being able to relax and even get a decent sleep at night. Goodness, look over there.’

Several youths had begun to fight and Mae saw the flash of razors.

‘Let’s get out of here. And as quick as we can.’

They hurried away in the direction of the Art Galleries. Once they had safely arrived there, Doris said, ‘I remember that park being so peaceful and respectable. What a difference now.’

‘Jack says it’s going to be sorted out soon. He says a clear message is going to be sent to gang members or anybody misbehaving in Kelvingrove Park – we’ll come after you.’

‘Well, I hope they do. One thing’s for sure, Mae. You’re never likely to be bored, married to a police officer. And he’s so handsome too. I’ve never seen such a handsome man.’

‘So you keep telling me.’

‘Oh dear, am I getting as bad as my mother and repeating myself all the time? I’m sorry, Mae.’

‘It’s all right. I was just joking.’

She was wondering what else Jack would tell her about the men who’d robbed the Art Galleries.

They were waiting for him at the beginning of Waterside Way, blocking his path to the house. They were a group of white youths in expensive school uniforms. They were the sons of wealthy businessmen – owners of supermarkets and wholesale warehouses, company directors, doctors, professionals and consultants. Mirza was returning from school with Zaida, Sandra, Maq and Ali. He’d invited his pals Maq and Ali home for a meal.

‘Get lost,’ one of the youths said to the girls and to Maq and Ali. ‘It’s him we want,’ indicating Mirza.

‘You get lost,’ Mirza said, ‘you bunch of pathetic cowards. I’ll take on every one of you in a fair one-to-one fight.’

Sandra said, ‘What’s the big idea? What do you expect to gain by picking on Mirza?’

‘We’re here to warn this fuckin’ bastard to keep clear of a white girl like you.’

Sandra’s voice loudened indignantly. ‘I choose to be with whoever I like. And I choose to be with Mirza. You can all beat it and mind your own business.’

Zaida said, ‘Sandra, you just go home. I’ll stay with Mirza. Maq and Ali, you go and wait at our house.’

‘No way,’ Maq and Ali said. ‘We’re staying with you and Mirza.’ And then to the tight mob barring their way, ‘You’re a bunch of cowards, the lot of you. You haven’t the nerve to have a one-to-one fight with Mirza. He’d flatten any of you.’

‘What’s going on here?’ a voice called out behind the youths. They turned and saw two policemen coming towards Waterside Way. Mirza recognised them as friends of Jack Kelly at house number one.

Sandra called back, ‘They’re stopping us getting into Waterside Way and our houses. They don’t belong here.’

One of the youths said, ‘We were just having a laugh.’

‘Well,’ one of the policemen told him, ‘away and have a laugh somewhere else. You’re blocking the way.’

‘Sure, no problem.’

They all began to swagger off but one of them called back to Mirza, ‘See you again soon.’

Once in Waterside Way, Maq said to Mirza, ‘Maybe you should cool it and not be seen so much with Sandra. They’re obviously determined to get you if you carry on like this – always being with her.’

‘Whose side are you on?’ Mirza protested indignantly.

‘Yours, of course. But I don’t want you beaten and kicked to a pulp and maybe even killed by a mob like that. We can’t always be here to help you and a couple of policemen aren’t likely to turn up again either.’

Sandra said, ‘Jack Kelly’s a policeman. We could at least tell him or his wife, Mae. They know about Mirza and me and they’re all right about us. They could at least keep an eye on things, warn them off or something. I don’t know, but at least we could ask for their advice. They know for a start that we can’t make an official report to the police station. My mother would find out about Mirza and me and then all hell would be let loose.’