The Wummin: The Glasgow Chronicles 5 (3 page)

Chapter Three

  “Jist take a seat and somewan will be wae ye shortly,” the receptionist hid said tae them.

  Efter five minutes, somewan...a man...hid come and asked Issie questions regarding her and Joe’s address, his date ae birth, whit school he’d went tae and who his doctor wis.  He’d also telt them whit the procedure wid be.  Helen hid telt him she wis Joe’s auntie, which wis jist as well. 

  “Ah’m no sure Ah kin go through wae this, Helen,” Issie hid suddenly come oot wae, as she blew her nose intae the dish towel that she’d been using as a hanky, efter the mortuary guy disappeared, telling them that he’d go and see if everything wis ready.

  “Ah know it’s hard, Issie, bit Ah’ll be here tae haud yer haun.  It his tae be done, hen.”

  When Mortuary Man hid come back, Issie hid refused tae budge and hid burst intae hysterics.  Efter aboot ten minutes, she’d calmed doon a bit, bit still said she couldnae go through wae it.

  “Kin ye no dae it fur me, Helen?” Issie hid cried oot.

  “Bit Issie, it needs tae be yersel, hen.  Ye’re his maw.  Ah don’t think Ah’d be allowed tae,” Helen hid replied in shock, no expecting this unexpected turn ae events.

  “Bit ye’ve known Joe since he wis a wean.  Please, Helen?  Ah need tae get oot ae here.  Please?” Issie hid screamed, eyes wide wae panic.  “Ah…Ah need tae get back tae Wee Mary.”

  “Ah’m sure that seeing ye’re the boy’s auntie and ye know him well enough, that wid be acceptable, hen,” Mortuary Man hid whispered soothingly tae Helen.

  “Bit, er, Ah’m no...”

  “Please, Helen?” Issie hid whimpered through her distress.

  “Er, aye, okay…Ah’ll…Ah’ll gie it a try.”

  “Fine,” Mortuary Man hid come back wae quickly, haudin the door open fur her, jist in case she changed her mind,.

  “Ur ye sure aboot this, Issie?” Helen hid asked doubtfully, praying that Issie wid change her mind.

  “Thanks, Helen.  God bless ye fur this.”

    Helen hid been led alang the corridor tae where another mortuary man wis staunin, haudin open a door.  As she’d drawn closer, she could see hauf a trolley wae a white sheet draped o’er it.  It hid been the bottom end and she’d quickly realised that whit she could see wis Joe’s legs...no exposed...bit the shape ae his legs and feet, covered up.  As she’d entered the room, another mortuary man…this time, in a white coat and wearing yellow wellies, hid been staunin wae a clip board and a pen, at the ready.  He’d gied her a wee encouraging smile.  In the background, somewhere in another room, she’d thought that she could hear an auld song that wis wan ae Jimmy’s favourites, although when she’d come oot later, she’d put it doon tae her imagination.  She couldnae imagine anywan playing ‘Long Black Veil’ by Lefty Frizzell in a place like a mortuary.

  “This is Mrs...?”

  “Taylor,” Helen hid stammered, jumping at the sound ae Mr Clipboard’s voice.

  “This is the deceased’s auntie,” a faraway, distant voice hid announced behind her.

  “Ah know this is a difficult time, bit it’s important that ye formally identify the deceased, Mrs Taylor.  So, if ye don’t mind?” he’d said, lifting the sheet aff the covered heid.

  Joe hid been lying there, wae his face ashen and his lips the colour ae bare blue steel.  Wan ae his eyes...wan ae his deid, sightless eyes...hid been slightly open.  He hidnae looked like the eighteen-year-auld who’d been sitting in her kitchen a few days previously, eating a piece and jam, drinking a glass ae Tree Tops orange juice and telling her a story aboot whit him and her Johnboy hid goat up tae in the past, bit it wis definitely him.  She’d felt her legs wobble, and wis thankful fur the hauns that hid instantly held her up.

  “Wid this be Joseph McManus, Mrs Taylor?  Yer nephew?”

  Helen hid reluctantly looked at the face, the face that she’d seen a million times o'er the years, since the first time that Johnboy brought him hame and asked if it wis okay fur him tae stay fur his tea.  She’d remembered that she’d barely hid enough tae eat fur Jimmy and the three girls.  She’d remembered that she’d only jist managed tae scrape the money thegither tae buy hauf a pound ae mince fur the six ae them.  A seventh mooth wis gonnae stretch it a bit.

  “Whit dae ye think this is?  The feeding ae the five thousand?” Norma, Johnboy’s sister hid cursed oan everywan’s behauf.

  “If there’s no enough, he kin get your share, Fatso,” Johnboy hid shot back.

  Efter that, Joe and Johnboy’s other three pals, Paul McBride, Tony Gucci and the wee ugly baldy boy, Skull Kelly, who’d died in a fire alang wae Tam The Bam’s dug, Elvis, hid been regular visitors at teatime, despite baith Helen and Jimmy warning Johnboy tae cut it oot...bringing stragglers roond tae the hoose when they wur jist aboot tae hiv their tea.

  “Mrs Taylor?”

  “Aye…Ah kin confirm that that’s Joe McManus lying there,” she’d croaked, feeling the hot tears running doon her cheeks.

  “Issie, Issie, wake up, hen.  We’re jist aboot at the fire station oan Keppochhill Road,” Helen soothed, gently shaking Issie, before reaching up and pressing the button oan the roof fur the driver tae stoap at the next bus stoap.

  “Helen, please tell me this is jist a bad dream...a nightmare,” Issie groggily groaned.

  “Ah’m sorry, Issie, Ah wish Ah could, hen,” she replied, helping Issie up aff ae her seat, as the bus slowed doon.

Chapter Four

  Helen lifted up her legs and rested her sore feet oan the pouffe stool in front ae the fire.  She gratefully accepted a cup ae tea fae Jimmy, who’d sat doon across fae her.  She knew fine well that he’d want tae know how she’d goat oan visiting Johnboy oot in Polmont Borstal, jist ootside Falkirk, bit he’d hiv tae wait.  She couldnae be arsed wae another argument or listening tae him parroting that ‘Ah telt ye, bit ye widnae listen’ stuck-record tune.  She wis angry at hersel, at the prison authorities, at Jimmy and at the situation that poor Issie, Tam and Wee Mary hid found themsels in efter whit hid happened tae poor Joe.  She peered across at Jimmy o’er the rim ae her cup.  He picked up her fag packet and shook it at her.  She nodded and he took wan oot and lit it up before passing it across tae her.  He wis a funny wan, Helen thought.  He’d stoapped smoking aboot three or four years earlier, bit still liked tae light up her fags fur her...as well as hiv a fly wee puff while he wis at it.  She couldnae remember a worse forty eight hours than those that hid jist passed.  By the time she’d goat Issie back hame efter being doon at the mortuary and sorted oot the shifts fur the lassies tae go roond and make sure Issie and Tam wur awright, Jimmy hid awready been hame, pacing.  Efter being in the cab aw day, he’d come hame tae an empty hoose, wae nae food in the cupboards, an unlit fire in the grate and no knowing whit the score wis wae young Joe.  Even though Helen regularly accused him ae being a drama queen, she knew he’d every right tae be pissed aff, despite the circumstances that Issie and Tam hid found themsels in.  He’d made sorry noises when she’d telt him aboot whit hid happened tae young Joe, and aboot her hivving tae escort Issie doon tae the mortuary via the Bar-L.  He’d also asked how Issie and Tam wur coping, bit she knew it widnae be long before the girning started.  He’d goat the fire gaun, nipped roond tae Sherbet's and bought a loaf, milk, cheese, baked beans and a few other odds and ends oan tic.  Everything hid seemed tae be gaun awright as they tucked intae their beans and toast until she’d mentioned that they’d need tae nip oot tae Polmont tae visit Johnboy.

  “Whit fur?  Ah thought ye said he wis getting oot next week.”

  “He is, bit we need tae tell him aboot whit’s happened tae his pal.”

  “Why?  Him and they mates ae his hivnae run aboot wae Joe since his accident a year or so ago.”

  “Accident?  Whit ur ye oan aboot, his accident?  He wis set upon and assaulted so badly that he ended up wae brain damage, so he wis.”

  “Ach, ye know whit Ah mean.  The point Ah’m making is, Johnboy and him wurnae that close o’er the last wee while...no like they wur before.”

  “Ah’m no letting Johnboy come hame this Christmas tae discover that wan ae his best pals, past or present, his been stabbed tae death, jist o’er a year efter being badly assaulted.”

  “Joe wisnae stabbed that time.”

  “He wis bloody assaulted and turned intae something he wisnae before the assault.  Ah cannae get o’er ye, Jimmy.  Hiv ye furgoat whit happened tae Johnboy’s wee pal when he wis aboot ten, doon in the Toonheid?”

  “Aye, of course Ah remember.  The wee boy that died in the fire?  Whit’s that goat tae dae wae anything?”

  “Yer advice then wis tae ignore it…don’t talk tae him aboot it…he’ll get o’er it as he gets aulder and time passes.”

  “Well, that’s whit happened wae me when ma wee pal droont up at The Nolly when Ah wis aboot his age.”

  “Fur Christ’s sake, Jimmy.  That wee boy, the wan they called Skull, died in that pigeon dookit up oan Parly Road as a result ae somewan setting it oan fire.  And we aw know that it wisnae weans that set it alight either.  That wisnae an accident…that wis murder, so it wis.”

  “Helen, ye’ve lost me here.  Whit the fuck his that goat tae dae wae whit happened tae poor Joe McManus the other night?”

  “Ah’m no sure that Johnboy, or his pals fur that matter, hiv ever goat o’er whit happened aw they years ago.”

  “How kin ye say that?  Ah’ve never heard Johnboy even mention it in aw the time he’s been growing up.”

  “That’s ma point.  Dis it no strike ye as being a wee bit odd?”

  “Whit?”

  “Wan ae yer best pals, who wis in the same class as ye at school, gets burnt tae death in a dookit.  The wans who did it ur either the local polis, who hate ye and yer mates, or a bunch ae adult gangsters who duck and dive in the doo-world and blame ye fur stealing aw their good doos.  Johnboy his never, tae ma knowledge, mentioned it, not wance, while he wis growing up.  Dis that no strike ye as being kind ae strange?”

  “It wid if he wisnae away maist ae the time, locked up in some approved school.  Who knows who he’s spoken tae aboot whit happened?  In fact, who knows whit goes oan inside that heid ae his?  Hauf the time, Ah think he’s away wae the fairies, so Ah dae.”

  “He’s no walking oot ae borstal intae this withoot any prior warning.  Ah’m gonnae be the wan tae tell him this time.  Christ knows whit the mental damage wis the last time we sat back and did eff-aw tae help him through it.  The morra’s Saturday...visiting day...and it’s the only chance Ah’m gonnae get tae let him know before he gets released oan Christmas Eve.”

  Helen looked at him through her fag smoke.  He still hidnae asked how she’d goat oan and how Johnboy wis, which wis fair enough considering the humdinger ae an argument they’d hid the night before.  Jimmy hid left aff hivving something tae eat until she’d arrived hame. 

  “Ur ye hungry then?”

  “Starving.”

  “Right, whit dae ye want oot ae Salty Tony’s ?” he asked her, picking up his jaicket, before heiding fur the door.

  “So, how ur ye gonnae get oot tae Polmont then?” he’d asked her the night before.

  “Well, if ye hidnae gied away that car ae yers tae poor Tam, ye could’ve driven me there and back,” she’d responded, ignoring his question.

  “The reason Tam goat fined twenty quid is because the car wis knackered and no fit tae be oan the road.  If ma memory serves me well, we didnae hiv any money tae get it fixed.  Maybe if ye didnae smoke like a chimney, we could afford tae hiv a car oan the road fur me tae taxi ye aboot in,” he’d sarcastically sniped back at her.

  That hid kicked it aw aff.  World War Three hid erupted and she’d ended up being telt how she wis a useless selfish bitch, taking care ae aw the waifs and strays o’er the years, bit ignoring his and the weans needs…how she’d brought shame tae his door wae aw the carry-oan wae the warrant sales demos, how his wee maw and da wur ashamed ae him marrying a mad psychopath, who’d ended up in the jail fur assaulting the polis, insteid ae being at hame looking efter her man and her weans.   Wan ae his better wans hid been that he should’ve dumped her when he hid the chance.  Who else wid’ve put up wae the shite that he’d hid tae put up wae hid been another good wan.  She hidnae lain back wae her legs open, thinking ae queen and country, while aw this abuse wis being dished oot though.  She’d taken nae prisoners and hid gone fur a knock-oot punch early.  She’d telt him that no only wis he a useless basturt, bit that he wis a pathetic wan at that, and that she should’ve stayed where she wis wae Pat Molloy, The Big Man, a real man, fae the Toonheid.  She’d known that wid hurt him as he’d never been able tae come tae terms wae the fact that she’d gone oot wae wan ae the biggest gangsters in Glesga when she wis younger.  It hid aw ended wae him storming aff tae Johnboy’s room and her being left tae sleep oan her lonesome.  She bloody-well hated it when he did that, which wisnae very often, thank God.

  “So, ur ye gonnae tell me how ye goat oan then?” he finally asked her, lifting a bit ae haddock intae that gub ae his wae his fork.

  “Ah took a bus fae here doon tae the toon centre, then hid tae get a bus fae Dundas Street oot tae Falkirk and then another wan oot tae Polmont.  Luckily, the bus came back alang Duke Street oan the way back and Ah goat aff at the High Street and caught a number thirty seven back up intae Springburn.  Whit a bloody hassle ae a day, Ah’ve hid.”

  “Naw, it’s no yer journey that Ah’m interested in.  Whit wis Johnboy’s reaction when ye telt him aboot Joe?”

  “He still disnae know.”

  “Whit?  Ye never telt him?  So, whit wis the point ae daeing aw that running aboot aw o’er the place if ye didnae even tell him then?” he asked in disbelief.

  “Because the basturts widnae let me in tae see him, that’s why.  Aw that way and they telt me Ah wisnae getting in tae see him.”

  “Whit?  Why the hell wid they dae that?”

  “They widnae let me in tae see him because he’s in solitary confinement fur fourteen days.  Seemingly, when that happens they’re no allowed any visitors...something tae dae wae withdrawing privileges or something they said.”

   “Privileges?  Getting a visit fae yer maw isnae a privilege...surely that’s a right, is it no?”

  “No oot there in Polmont, it isnae.  And another thing, he’s no getting oot oan Christmas Eve either.  They slapped seven days oan tae his sentence as well.  Loss ae remission they called it.  It’ll be Hogmanay before he gets oot noo.  That’s another Christmas we won’t be seeing him at hame,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

  “Fur Christ’s sake, seven days?  Whit did he dae?  Murder the governor’s cat or whit?”

  “Ah don’t know.  They widnae tell me, even efter Ah telt them that Ah’d been travelling aw day tae get oot there.  They jist don’t gie a monkey’s fur the families.  ‘Rules ur rules’ a wee cheeky angry-faced gnaff, who stood there wae the brim ae his silver-braided hat pulled doon o’er his eyes, sneered at me.  He refused tae go and get a governor or a senior member ae staff fur me tae talk tae.  He telt me that he wis the senior officer oan duty and he wisnae allowing me in tae see ma boy.  Ah then hid tae wait o’er an hour in the rain and sleet up oan the roadside before a bus came tae take me back intae Falkirk.  Ye wid’ve thought they’d provide a bus shelter up there or something fur people like us.”

  “Ach, well, at least ye tried, hen,” he said, coming across and gieing her a cuddle.

  “Jimmy?”

  “Aye?”

  “Ah’m sorry aboot whit Ah said last night.”

  “Aye, Ah know.  So am Ah, hen.”