The Wummin: The Glasgow Chronicles 5 (38 page)

Chapter Sixty Four

  “Charlie!” Helen shrieked, bolting upright in her bed.

  “Whit the… Charlie?  Who the fuck’s Charlie…eh?” Jimmy snarled, looking aboot the bedroom, bewildered, expecting tae be attacked at any second.

  “Nothing, go back tae sleep, Jimmy,” Helen soothed, ignoring his panic.

  “Ur ye bloody nuts or whit?  Whit time is it?” Jimmy growled, peering doon at the clock beside him and groaning.

  “It’s nothing.  Ah wis hivving a bad dream, that’s aw.  Sorry.”

  “Ma whole bloody life is a bad dream, so it is,” Jimmy growled, flopping back oan his pillow and turning o’er, drawing the blanket up tae his chin.

  Helen tip-toed oot ae the bedroom, picking up her electric fire oan the way.  Efter putting the teapot oan the gas ring, she lifted a fag oot ae her packet and lit up.   She hidnae meant tae gie Jimmy a fright, especially at hauf three in the morning.  She couldnae believe how stupid she wis.  Helen hid been upset aboot poor auld Charlie and hid been worrying aboot him jist before she’d crashed oot oan tap ae her bed the night before.  She picked up her cup ae tea and fags and heided through tae Johnboy’s bedroom.  Wance ensconced there, wae the two bars oan the fire radiating their heat, she sat collecting her thoughts.  Christ...the diary.  How could she hiv been so bloody glaikit.  Helen held up her haun, stretching oot her fingers.  They wur trembling uncontrollably.  She stared at the surface ae the milky broon liquid in her cup.  The vibrations across the surface reminded her ae the water in her basin when the gas board wis oot digging up the road wae a pneumatic drill during the gas leak oan Christmas day.  Why hid Charlie never mentioned a diary?  She popped two aspirins intae her mooth and washed them doon wae a sip ae her tea.  Her headaches hid been getting worse, bit she’d found that if she could try and anticipate when she thought wan wis coming oan, the sharp throbbing pain wisnae as bad as it wid be withoot awready hivving taken the pills.  Jimmy hid recently started hassling her aboot gaun tae the doctors, and it wis usually the first thing he asked when he came hame fae his work.

  “Whit’s the point?  He’ll only tell me tae take aspirin, and anyway, wummin start getting aw sorts ae stuff happening tae their bodies wance they get intae their forties,” she’d telt him, smiling at his discomfort at the mention ae wummin trouble.

  “Let him decide.  That’s whit he gets paid a fortune fur,” he’d said, when she telt him the next night that she knew where the headaches wur coming fae.

  “Wan ae the lasses telt me there isnae a cure fur a migraine, so there’s no.  She says her man gets them every other day.  His symptoms ur the same as mine.  Ye jist hiv tae ride them oot.  Stress and bright lights disnae help...alang wae being kept up aw night wae somewan lying beside ye gieing it big licks, snoring.”

  “Ma auntie drapped doon deid wae meningitis, so she did.  Like yersel, she wis also a medical expert, so she wis.”

  “Jimmy, believe you me, as a mother ae five weans, Ah’d know the difference between meningitis and a bloody migraine, so Ah wid.  And anyway, if it wis meningitis, it wid’ve kicked in long before noo.”

    The nearer Helen goat tae the election day, the longer the headaches seemed tae last.  She wis also sure that the intensity ae the pain hid been getting worse.  Last night hid been the first time that she’d thrown up though.  She wisnae sure if it hid been the article in The Citizen that hid done it or the sharp, jabbing pain ae the headache, bit whitever it hid been, she’d hid tae go and lie doon oan the bed wae the light oot.  She’d picked up an Evening Citizen fae Sherbet’s oan her way hame.  Her and Jimmy hid jist finished their tea and Helen hid lit up a fag through in her wee kitchen while soaking they feet ae hers in salted water when the migraine hid come oan tae her like a charging horse.  Worse than that, she’d jist turned the page and noticed the heidline.  ‘The Battle Fur The Heart and Soul ae Springburn Heats Up,’ it hid shouted.  It hid been written by some twisted git called Harold Sliver.  Basically, he’d written that the campaign wis in full flow and that although five degrees below freezing, the temperature oan the streets up in Springburn wis rising.  It wis a nasty piece full ae lies, pish and dribble.  This Sliver wan hid said that the also-rans, meaning her and the other candidates, wur aw battling it oot metaphorically, whitever that meant, and physically, fur the runner-up prize as JP Donnelly wis so far in the lead.  Sliver hid wondered why the other candidates wur bothering tae turn up tae tout fur votes that they wurnae likely tae get.  Tae make matters worse fur Helen and that sore heid ae hers, he’d basically quoted the same percentage ae the vote she’d be likely tae get that JP hid telt her in the Co-op.  Apparently, she’d been up tae twenty percent earlier in the campaign, bit hid fallen back tae fifteen percent.  Helen hid been fuming efter reading the article.  It hid been crystal clear whose back pocket the slivering hack wis in.  Whit hid probably caused her tae spew her good mince and totties up in the sink hid been when he turned up the heat and went fur her, big style.  He’d raised the possibility that the reason her vote hid drapped so quickly wis because ae her previous criminal convictions fur breach ae the peace and assaulting the polis being exposed.  The dirty bugger hidnae said that her arrests hid been as a result ae resisting warrant sales oan poor families that hidnae two pennies tae rub thegither.  He’d also hinted that her family, the boys, wur well-known street gang neds.  Fae whit Issie hid reported back oan whit Father John and the other priests hid said at mass oan Sunday, Sliver’s attack oan her supposed stance oan abortion wis pretty verbatim...and jist as damning.  Efter trying tae be sick as quietly as she could withoot alerting Jimmy, and efter gieing her mooth a good rinse, she’d shouted through tae him that she wis away fur a wee snooze.  She’d taken The Evening Citizen wae her, jist in case Jimmy disappeared wae it intae the toilet.  If he’d clocked the crap that hid been written, she hidnae been too sure ae whit he wid’ve done, although she could’ve guessed.  Tae make matters worse, the other candidates hid hardly goat a mention.  Christ, she knew she wis the devil incarnate, bit being written as if she wis lower than a bloody Tory who lived in a castle, hid taken the biscuit, so it hid.  By the time her heid hid hit the pillow, it hid felt as if somewan wis taking a pin hammer tae it.   She remembered taking a couple ae deep breaths tae try and calm her panic as she lay wondering where auld Charlie Mann hid goat tae.  She jist couldnae get him oot ae her thoughts and hid fallen asleep wae tears running aff her cheek oan tae the pillow.  When she’d woken up, or rather, bolted up, she’d found hersel under a blanket, still fully clothed, wae Jimmy lying beside her.  At the end ae the day, she wid jist hiv tae live wae the lies that people like Sliver hid written, she thought tae hersel.  The priests hid awready goat in there first and done the real damage.  Efter her public humiliation fae the pulpit, a shitey wee article in The Evening Citizen wisnae gonnae send her aff oan a hairy fit, she’d telt hersel.  The only problem she couldnae figure oot wis how tae coonter and deflect aw the lies.  It wis obvious that JP, the sicko that he wis, wis behind everything.  She wis right glad that she’d bounced the bag ae flour aff ae that napper ae his, so she wis.  He widnae be in any hurry tae hiv idle chat wae her in the Co-op again, that wis fur sure.  She grimaced, taking another sip ae her tea.  Jist before heiding hame tae make Jimmy’s tea, she’d phoned The Western tae find oot how auld Charlie wis daeing.  She’d awready made up her mind tae lie and claim tae be his daughter tae get the information, bit the lassie oan the switchboard hid telt her that they didnae hiv anywan called Charlie Mann in The Western Infirmary.

  “Bit ye must hiv.  Ah visited him oan Sunday,” she’d said.

  “Ah’m sorry, bit there’s no a patient wae that name here.  Ur ye sure ye’ve goat the right hospital, hen?” the switchboard lassie hid said, efter keeping her hinging oan in the phone box fur o’er five minutes while she tried tae find oot if he’d been transferred. 

  When Helen hid come aff the phone, she’d nose-dived intae panic mode.  Whit if he’d died and nowan knew aboot it?  It hid been at that point that she’d felt the throbbing in her heid starting up. 

  “Oh, Christ, Charlie, Ah hope tae God ye’re aw right,” Helen groaned, tearfully, as she heard the sound ae Jimmy’s snoring oan the other side ae the wall.

  She pushed back the chair she wis sitting oan and bent o’er so she could hiv a good swatch at aw the rubbish that hid been stuffed under Johnboy’s bed.  She saw whit she wis looking fur and reached oot fur the carrier bag.  When she pulled it oot intae the light, she found the jotter sitting, hauf submerged in amongst aw her aunt Jeannie’s yellowing letters and pictures.  Her hauns began tae tremble again as she reached doon and picked up the auld exercise book.

  “Right, JP,  ya auld shitehoose, ye.  It’s no jist me ye’re up against noo.  Let’s see how we get oan wae bringing Auntie Jeannie back intae the fray,” Helen said oot loud, opening the book.

Chapter Sixty Five

  Susan dabbed the tears fae her eyes again.  She knew she shouldnae be laughing, bit it wis impossible no tae.  Maist ae the leading campaign wummin hid gathered aroond her kitchen table, waiting fur Helen tae arrive.  It wis nearly hauf past ten.  They’d been waiting fur nearly hauf an hour and the girls wur in full, infectious flow.  They didnae seem too concerned that Helen wis late.  Susan looked at the laughing faces aroond the table.  They wur aw ages, shapes and sizes and hid that determined look that they wur right, and everywan else wis wrang.  It hidnae taken her long tae be oan first name terms wae Betty, Sharon, Brenda, Mary, Ann, Christine, Jemima, Sally, Issie and Nan.  Susan hid been surprised tae see Nan.  Nan hid drapped oot ae the campaign efter the first negative article appeared in the press, efter the launch ae Helen’s campaign.  Fur some reason, she’d goat it intae her heid that Helen wid be responsible fur her husband, Alex, losing his job as a gravedigger.  Bess Mackay, Mary Flint, Geraldine Baker and Elaine Hinky made up the pensioner contingent in the group.  The four ae them hid turned up wae homemade rock cakes. 

  “Ach, ye might hiv said, Elaine,” Mary hid tutted, clearly disappointed that the other three hid hid the same idea as her.

  “Aye, and noo everywan is gonnae compare whose wans ur the best,” Bess hid sighed dismally, looking roond the table at the jury members.

  The main topics ae conversation, so far, hid been the article in The Citizen the night before, attacking Helen, and Susan’s sister-in-law, Mary Marigold’s column, in that morning’s Glesga Echo, featuring the social worker who’d been shot a few weeks earlier wae her gangster lover in a flat across in Possilpark.  Oan The Citizen’s article, Susan hid jist let them vent their understandable anger and frustration.

  “Ah say we charge doon tae Albion Street and heckle the dickheid as he arrives fur work,” Issie hid argued.

  “And who’s gonnae man the barricades up here in Springburn while JP and his bunch ae dirty dealers ur oot stealing oor votes, eh?” Soiled Sally hid countered.

  “Poor Helen.  Ah don’t know how the poor crater puts up wae it, so Ah don’t,” Elaine Hinky hid mused.

  “It’s easy, Elaine.  Everywan who knows Helen, knows fine well that it’s aw lies.  Who believes whit’s written in the papers anyway?” Nan hid added.

  “Aye, bit that’s the problem, so it is.  Whether we like it or no, everywan in Springburn disnae necessarily know Helen and even if they dae, if they’re Catholics, they’re hardly likely tae vote fur her efter whit they priests came oot wae, ur they?”

  “Ach, Ah widnae worry aboot Helen.  She’ll get o’er it.  She disnae stay doon fur very long,” Betty hid assured them, tae nods fae the others.

  The discussion aboot the social worker article hid been a bit mair relaxed and philosophical considering that the shot gangster’s brother wis oan the run, accused ae murdering Issie’s son, Joe.

  “Ah kin see whit the attraction wis,” Soiled Sally hid said, starting the discussion.

  “Aye, aw that ill-gotten money must’ve swayed her,” Elaine Hinky hid chirped.

  “Naw, Ah meant the body.  He wis as ugly as a skunk, bit they erms ae his shouted oot that they could dae mair than jist lift a pint aff the bar up tae that ugly kisser ae his, so they could.” 

  “Bit, who’d trust a gangster, especially if ye’re a social worker, that’s whit Ah want tae know?  Christ, somewan should’ve warned her tae stay well clear.  Look at Helen when she wis younger.  There wis a lucky escape,” Betty hid said tae nods.

  “Love works in mysterious ways.  That’s whit the social worker wis saying in her interview,” Ann Jackson hid chipped in.

  “Aye, bit money talks, so it dis.  How come they didnae splash it aw o’er the front page, that’s whit Ah want tae know?  Ah wid’ve thought a story like that wid’ve been screaming heidlines like ‘Trollop Speaks Oot,’” Sharon hid said, getting a nod fae Susan that it wis awright tae light up as everywan searched fur their fags in their pinnies and coat pockets.

  “It wis oan the news this morning, so it wis.  The news reader asked the same question and then started quoting fae it aboot how she wis blinded by love.  Efter reading it masel, Ah felt sorry fur her, so Ah did,” Christine hid said, looking at the faces roond the table.

  “Wance again, it’s the wummin that ends up the victim, whether she's a social worker or a school cleaner.  Us wummin always end up wae the shitey end ae the stick, so we dae,” Issie hid agreed.

  “Aye, bit she must’ve known whit she wis getting intae...surely?”

  “No really.  As she said hersel, when she first met him, she didnae know his background.”

  “Well, she must’ve been the only wan in the whole ae the city.  Every man and his blind dug knew who Tam Simpson wis.”

  Susan hid sat listening tae the discussion.  Some ae the points hid been valid enough.  Susan hid read the story hersel.  The wummin, Alison Crawford, hid said that the gangster hid attended a fundraising event she’d been organising oan behauf ae local needy children.  He’d been charming and hid donated a large sum ae money and hid volunteered tae help her oot wae the other good causes she wis promoting.  It hidnae taken her long tae start tae hiv feelings fur the wealthy, charming businessman.  She’d been flattered by the attention.  She claimed tae hiv been in a loveless marriage fur maist ae the twenty or so years she’d been married.  She claimed tae hiv succumbed, wae her eyes open, tae affection that wis missing in her life.  The only thing that hid kept her and her husband thegither hid been their two children, who’d noo left hame.  She’d only found oot the businessman’s background a week before the baith ae them hid been shot.  She claimed that she’d been gaun tae end their relationship at the fatal rendezvous.  She’d never goat the chance tae end it.  Before she’d known whit wis happening, she’d woken up in hospital, tae find that she’d been shot.  In the article, the social worker hid apologised tae aw her friends and colleagues and hid asked fur forgiveness fae her husband and children.  Christine hid made a good point aboot the lack ae a sensationalist heidline.  The television news hid been making a big splash aboot the fact that the article hid been printed withoot the usual fanfare.  The Glesga Echo hid released a statement stating that they’d wanted tae respect the privacy ae Alison Crawford and her family and tae allow her an opportunity tae explain her side ae the story in a manner that wis sensitive tae her family.  ‘It is for others to decide whether the newspaper his done that,’ a spokesman fae the paper hid said.

  Susan looked across the table.  Sharon Campbell hid them in her grip as she recounted how she’d persuaded a local fly-man called Slippery Dick tae distribute leaflets oan his travels aboot the pubs in Springburn as he attempted tae sell her a pair ae ballet pumps the day before.

  “'Ballet Shoes?  Noo, dae Ah look like somewan who’d be seen twirling aboot oan ma toes, aw o’er the place, in the snow, in a pair ae silk ballet shoes?’ Ah said tae him.  'Bit, they’re no ballet shoes, they’re ballet pumps,' he came back wae.  Ah jist telt him right there and then, 'Hoi, Genghis, Ah could be daeing wae a pump, bit it won’t be fae an ugly wee bald cretin like you, so it wullnae, so dae as ye’re telt and get these leaflets haunded oot and none ae yer cheek.  If ye need any mair, jist collect them fae wan ae the wummin,'” Sharon drawled, as aw the lassies screeched wae laughter.  “Oh, er, excuse ma language, Susan.” 

  Susan waved her apology away through her tears.  It wis difficult tae be offended by their use ae language or explicit tales, despite their liberal use ae profanity tae emphasise a point.  Fur years this group ae wummin hid been the scourge ae the city’s Corporation officials, Sheriff officers and the local polis, who’d been there tae protect the officials while carrying oot warrant sales.  O’er the years, they’d been clubbed, spat oan, arrested and even sent tae prison, bit still they continued tae turn up, in aw weathers, tae try and stoap the sales fae gaun aheid.  Despite set-backs and personal attacks fae a variety ae quarters since the start ae the by-election, they still sounded jist as positive as when she’d first met them a few weeks earlier.  Susan felt honoured tae be accepted intae their company.

  “Aye, ye’re here?  Long lie-in, wis it, or his Jimmy goat the day aff?” Betty quipped, winking at everywan, as Helen appeared through the door.

  “It’s funny, Ah thought miracles didnae happen nooadays,” Helen panted, taking aff her coat while reaching fur her fags at the same time.

  “Whit?”

  “Ah wis jist talking tae Sherbet, who we aw know is a right blue-nosed Tory.  Did ye know that he’s put up oor posters in his shoap windae?” Helen asked them.

  “So that’s why he wanted them aff ae me oan the way past his shoap this morning,” Betty said.

  “He says he wis fizzing when he read the article in The Citizen last night.  ‘Biggest piece ae pish Ah’ve read in a long time, so it is,’ he declared,” Helen said, squeezing oan tae the edge ae a seat.

  “Aye, he’s no kidding there, so he isnae,” Soiled Sally grunted.

  “Anyway.  Furget aw that.  Things ur looking up and we’re changing tack, so we ur.”

  “Ur we?” Nan asked, oan behauf ae everywan.

  “Aye, and here’s oor weapon ae choice,” Helen announced, smiling, tossing whit looked like an auld school jotter oan tae the middle ae the table.  “If that’s okay wae yersel, Susan?”

  “Why, of course it is, Helen.  I’ve also got a few pieces of interesting news to share as well,” she replied, as aw eyes focused oan the exercise book.

  “Right, well, noo that everywan’s here and Helen’s goat us changing horses in mid-stream…again,”  Sharon announced, silencing everywan.  “Kin we get back tae the maist important issue that need addressing?  Like, whit wan ae youse made this wan, eh?” Sharon demanded tae know, screwing up her face, haudin up a rock cake wae a bite oot ae it in front ae her face, as everywan burst oot laughing.