The Wummin: The Glasgow Chronicles 5 (8 page)

Chapter Sixteen

  Helen, followed by Issie, turned the corner fae Keppochhill Road intae Endricks Street and let oot a loud groan when she clocked The Stalker wae blood pouring oot ae his mooth and a row ae placards sticking oot in front ae the lassies like lances.  She wis furever drilling intae them that using the poles wis a last resort before being lifted.  The last time they’d used them, back in the sixties, they’d aw goat lifted and she’d ended up across in Gateside Wummins’ nick oot in Greenock.  Even though she’d wanted tae stoap and hiv a fag tae get her breath back, and despite nearly keeling o’er wae exhaustion a few times efter practically running aw the way fae the NAB wae Issie, she knew in her heart that they’d miss the start ae the sale.

  “Christ, whit hiv they done?” she wheezed at Issie, as they baith hurried up the street tae the staun-aff.

  “Aw, fuck!  Er, sorry, excuse me, Reverend,” The Stalker groaned, his heart sinking when he clocked Helen Taylor rushing up the street towards them.

  “And you must be Mrs Taylor.  I’ve heard a lot about you...all good things, of course.  My name is Donald Flaw,” The Reverend said, haudin oot his haun fur her tae shake, while waving wan ae her leaflets in front ae her wae his other wan.

  “Oh, er, pleased tae meet ye, sir,” Helen replied, curtsying, no too sure how wan went aboot addressing a Proddy minister.

  “Mrs McManus?  How are you?” he asked Issie, who wis staunin bent o’er, her hauns resting oan her knees, behind Helen, wheezing like a burst pipe.

  “Oh, Reverend, nice tae see ye again.  Ah’m sorry ye’ve hid tae meet me and aw ma pals in a situation like this.  Hiv ye jist been up tae ma hoose then?” Issie panted, apologising, dreading tae think whit kind ae state Tam hid been in if he’d opened the ootside door and found the minister staunin there.

  “No, no...myself and the ladies have come down to join in with your peaceful protest,” he replied, stressing the word 'peaceful' as he looked at Helen.

  “Right, girls, let’s line up like we usually dae, leaving enough room tae let members ae the public hiv access tae walk up and doon the street,” she ordered, as aw the wummin, including the auld dears fae the church shuffled amongst themsels, as if they wur oan a parade ground.

  “Noo, Ah don’t know whit went oan before me and Issie arrived, bit we’ll hiv nae mair violence or abuse being thrown aboot in this here street, gieing anywan any excuse tae lift us.  Hiv youse aw goat that?” Helen shouted tae them aw, while rummaging in her bag until she located the blue McEwans Lager bar towel.

  Efter finding whit she wis looking fur, she slung it across towards The Stalker, who gratefully caught it and put it up tae his bloody mooth.

  “Here, here,” Betty seconded, scowling across at Biscuit.

  “Right, you and you, you and you, and you, hen, get yersels intae a wee circle and start marching wae they banners held up as high as ye kin oan this pavement.  Let’s show Springburn and the world that we’re no happy wae aw this flogging ae poor wee weans' and wummins’ furniture fae under them.  Right, aw youse wae the banners, haun them o’er tae the marchers,” Helen rasped, walking alang the line ae wummin, aw staunin tae attention, eagerly awaiting her command.

  “What would you like me to do, Mrs Taylor?” Reverend Flaw asked her.

  “A wee prayer widnae go amiss, so it widnae, seeing as it’s Christmas, Father...Ah mean, Reverend, sir.”

  The Stalker and Biscuit retired tae the squad car across the road.  By hauf twelve, the show wis o’er.  The Sheriff officers, wae nae buyers hivving turned up, efter being spooked by the arrival ae the minister and the racket fae the cat’s choir singing ‘Silent Night’ doon at the closemooth, appeared and nodded o’er tae the squad car, tae let them know they wur calling it a day.  When they goat intae their cars and drove aff, aw the wummin cheered and clapped their hauns, before aw hugging each other.  Jist as Biscuit started up the engine, Helen Taylor came across tae them.  The Stalker rolled his windae doon.

  “Look, Ah don’t know whit happened before Ah arrived.  Ah tried tae get here before everywan else, bit Ah jist couldnae get oot ae an important appointment.  Ah hope that bloody gub isnae too serious and ye’ll let aff whoever done it tae ye…seeing as whit time ae the year it is,” she begged, before turning and walking away.

  “Er, excuse me, hen?” The Stalker shouted, stretching his haun oot ae the windae tae haun the bar towel back tae her.

  “Ach, you keep it, Sergeant, ye look as if ye need it mair than Ah dae,” she said, smiling, as she turned tae join the celebration that wis in full swing oan the pavement.

  “Right, Biscuit.  Ah’ve an important meeting that Ah cannae afford tae be late fur, so get this car intae gear and get me doon tae Central, as fast as ye kin,” The Stalker said, pressing the bar towel intae his gub tae try and stoap the bleeding fae the hole in his gum.

Chapter Seventeen

  “Done!” Helen announced tae nowan.

She laid doon her pencil and reached fur her fag packet.  Efter lighting up, she picked up the shopping list that she’d written oan the inside ae a Scott’s porridge oats packet that she’d chopped up fur that very purpose.  Everything looked tae be in order.  As well as the usual fags, breid, marg, eggs, lard, milk, sausages, bacon, broth mix, biscuits, totties, tumshie and sugar, she’d added Brussels sprouts, Madeira cake, custard powder, flour, Bisto, Christmas cake, tinned pears and tinned mandarins…no furgetting sweeties fur the weans.  She wis meeting the lassies up at the Co-op oan Springburn Road at aboot hauf four.  Betty said she’d keep her a place in the queue.  It wis always a mad rush oan Christmas Eve and a bit risky.  Ye couldnae always get whit ye wanted, bit whit there wis left, ye’d get cheaper, especially the breid.  The shops widnae be open again until Monday or Tuesday, so they’d be glad tae get shot ae everything that wis perishable fur pennies or whit widnae sell efter Christmas day...like the sprouts.  She smiled, thinking aboot the year before.  Sharon Campbell hid goat intae an argument wae big Jemima Cooper o’er a sultana cake, the only wan left oan the shelf.  Wan thing hid led tae another and before anywan could get in between them, Sharon hid bounced the cake aff ae big Jemima’s nose.  The pair ae them hid goat slung oot and Helen and Sandra hid ended up hivving tae dae Sharon and Jemima’s shoapping fur them, efter Sandra hid gone ootside tae get their shoapping lists and stamp books aff ae them tae pay fur whitever they wur wanting.

  “If that big fat cow even looks at me the day, Ah’m gonnae swing fur her,” Sharon hid said tae the lassies earlier at the sale, efter arranging a time tae meet up wae everywan.

  Helen wis noo looking forward tae Christmas Day.  The year before, Jimmy hid jist finished decorating her wee kitchen.  Oan Christmas Eve, two days efter he’d finished it, hauf the ceiling hid drapped doon oan tap ae her, ruining aw the work he’d done.  She’d phoned The Corporation and they’d said that they’d get somewan up as soon as they could.  She’d been in bits.  Insteid ae buying each other Christmas presents, they’d decided tae buy paint.  When Jimmy’d come hame, him and Issie’s man, Tam, hid gone up oan tap ae the roof and fixed the slates as best they could before covering the big hole in her ceiling wae polythene sheeting.  Despite Helen threatening tae kill every last wan ae them, the clerk ae works fur The Corporation hidnae appeared until three weeks efter the damage hid been done.  Even though she’d sworn that she widnae keep looking up at her ceiling every time she entered the kitchen, she’d been like a moose being hypnotised by a python and couldnae help hersel.  The polythene wis still stuck up there waiting fur The Corporation tae come and fix her ceiling.

  She lit up a fag.  She’d managed tae get aw her presents sorted oot fur Jimmy, the lassies and the weans, wae the help ae Craigie Shaw, her Provi-cheque man, even though she hidnae really gied Christmas itsel too much thought until then.  Jimmy wis still bumping his gums aboot Issie and Tam coming roond, bit hid agreed that as long as it wisnae fur the meal itsel, he’d go alang wae it.  He’d probably be annoyed if he knew that she’d invited them roond fur the meal itsel, bit Issie hid refused.  She’d said that despite Joe no being there, she still wanted tae go aheid and make a Christmas dinner fur Tam and Wee Mary, bit they’d join them wae Betty and Stan at aboot five o’clock fur a wee drink.

She took a puff ae her fag, scowling at her good ceiling.  Despite scrubbing the walls, she still couldnae shift the soot stains.  Jimmy said that because ae the cauld, the paint hid probably still been wet when the ceiling came doon.

“Helen, Christmas is aw aboot family, so it is,” Jimmy hid repeatedly stated tae her like a stuck record.

  “Jimmy, Issie, Tam and Wee Mary ur family.  When ur ye gonnae get that in tae yer thick heid?  Ah spend mair time wae Issie than Ah dae wae you, so shut yer arse,” she’d retorted.

  “It’s no ma fault Ah’m a lorry driver.  That’s whit lorry drivers dae.  They drive aw o’er the country, which means they’re no at hame hauf the time.  Ah kin always try and get a job as a scaffy, emptying the manky midden bins, if ye want?”

  Apart fae the fact that Johnboy and Charlie widnae be at hame, Helen wis determined tae enjoy the occasion and relax a wee bit, spend time wae the lassies and the grandweans, hiv a drama-free day and hopefully watch a wee bit ae the telly.  Jimmy hid turned up wae a scraggly looking Christmas tree and the baith ae them hid spent the night before setting it up in the corner ae the living room.  Jimmy widnae let her go through tae Johnboy’s bedroom tae get the decorations doon fae the tap ae the wardrobe because he didnae want her tae see the presents he’d goat her.  She hoped he’d like the two shirts and the Brut gift pack she’d goat fur him.  Sometimes, when he came hame efter driving doon tae England fur a few days, she’d swear that she could smell him before she saw him.  He wis always gaun oan aboot how he couldnae get rid ae the smell ae cat’s pish fae his cabin efter wan ae the boys at his work hid slung in an auld tom cat wan night fur a laugh.  He said it wisnae that bad in winter, bit at the first sign ae spring, the cab reeked ae ammonia.  He’d said that he wisnae sure whit time he’d get up the road fae his work, bit she wid need tae remember tae switch oan the immersion heater before she heided up tae the Co-op.

  It hid been a busy year.  There hid been good times alang wae the bad.  Her maw hid died and her da hid finally been moved oot ae the multi-storeys across in Sighthill and shifted tae a bottom flat up in Provanmill.  Another bummer hid been Johnboy being put away tae borstal, bit her and the lassies seemed tae be getting oan fine.  Although Charlie noo lived in Jersey and wis working as a brickie in Germany, he’d sent a parcel wae presents in it tae be opened oan Christmas day.  Isabelle wis married, nearly divorced and living wae Malcolm, who worked fur the AA.  He seemed a nice boy and didnae seem tae mind that Isabelle hid two weans tae somewan else.  The last time Helen hid spoken tae Isabelle, she’d said that she’d put in fur the divorce because her and Malcolm wanted tae get married.  Anne wis living in sin up in Nitsdale Road wae Tommy, another wan who’d a good trade...as a pipe-lagger, whitever that wis.  Norma hid left hame and wis living wae two pals across in Woodside.  She wis working as an apprentice precognition officer wae wan ae the big lawyer firms in the toon.

  “Basically, Ah go aboot taking statements aff ae witnesses, Ma,” she’d said tae Helen in explanation.

  Helen worried aboot Norma.  When she’d first left hame, Helen hid stayed in bed fur a week.  She hidnae slept.  Every time she’d heard a noise at night, she’d thought it wis the polis arriving tae tell her and Jimmy that Norma hid been found strangled.

  “Bit why dae ye want tae leave hame, hen?” Helen hid demanded, the day Norma telt her she wis moving oot.

  “Because I’m nearly nineteen.”

  “Why wid anywan want tae leave hame when they’re eighteen?  Why kin we no leave it until yer da gets hame, eh?  We kin talk aboot it then.”

  “Because Ah don’t want tae dae that.  Aw ye’ll dae is get him tae take sides and the baith ae youse will jist gang up oan me and persuade me tae change ma mind.”

  “Whit’s wrang wae that?  That’s whit parents ur supposed tae dae.  Whit’s wrang wae staying here, eh?  Ye’ve goat yer ain room, ye kin come and go as ye please, which ye dae, withoot as much as a ‘by yer leave.’   Christ, ye kin even bring a boyfriend hame, so ye kin, as long as we work oot a strategy oan dealing wae yer da first,” Helen hid pleaded.

  “Ye jist don’t get it, dae ye, Ma?”

  “Get whit?”

  “And the worst thing aboot it is, ye’re no stupid either,” Norma hid sobbed, tears welling up in they eyes ae hers.

  “Christ’s sake, Norma, whit ur ye oan aboot?  Ye’re nae pregnant, ur ye?” Helen hid made the mistake ae asking.

  “Fur Christ’s sake!  That’s whit Ah mean...ye genuinely don’t see whit the problem is,” Norma hid howled, stomping through tae her bedroom, followed by Helen.

  “Ye’re no making any sense, Norma.  Tell me...tell me the truth...whit’s the matter, hen?”

  “Ah don’t believe this.  Right, ye want tae know?  Ye really want tae know the truth?  You’re the problem!”

  “Me?  Whit hiv Ah done?”

  “Look aboot ye.  Look at us...yer family.  Everywan his left hame except fur me.  Ye’re never here, and when ye ur, ye’re planning the next great campaign against The Corporation, the Sheriff officers, the local NAB office, the polis.  Christ, ye even hid the bloody cheek tae join strikers ootside the loaf factory and ye don’t even work there!”

  “Naw, bit Ah know maist ae the lassies who dae,” Helen hid shot back.

  “See?  That’s whit Ah mean.  Kin ye imagine whit it feels like tae be passed o’er by a bloody slice ae breid?  While ye wur doon there, prancing up and doon wae aw yer pals, where wur we in the great scheme ae things, eh?  Ah’ll tell ye.  We wur aw sitting back here wondering when ye wur coming back, or if ye ever wur.  Dae ye know that aw us weans, when we wur growing up, wur never sure whether it wis you that wis gonnae walk through that door or some social worker coming tae take us intae care.”

  “Ach, Norma, don’t exaggerate.  Ye knew Ah wis always gonnae be back here, waiting fur ye when ye came hame fae school.”

  “Look, Ah’ve made up ma mind.  Ah don’t want tae get intae this.  Ah’m leaving, whether ye want me tae or no.”

  “Norma, come oan, don’t be like that.  We kin talk this o’er, so we kin.”

  “Am done wae talking.  Leopards never change their spots, and neither will you.  Ma bags ur packed and Ah’m oot ae here.  Me and ma pals hiv signed a lease oan a flat.”

  “Bit whit am Ah gonnae tell yer da?  He’ll be really upset...so will Ah,” she’d wailed in panic.

  “Fur Christ’s sake!  Gie ma da a bit ae credit fur wance, will ye.  He’ll know exactly how Ah’m feeling.  At least Ah kin get oot ae this madhoose...he’s in here fur life!”

  And wae that, Norma hid humphed her shoulder bag and two suitcases oot ae her bedroom and disappeared doon the stairs tae the street.  Helen hid been too stunned tae chase efter her.  Later oan that same night, Helen hid nose-dived intae a state ae panic because she hidnae goat an address as tae where Norma wis gaun.  Jimmy hid been nae help tae her either.  His attitude hid been that he wis surprised it hidnae happened earlier.

  “Listen, aw weans flee the nest sooner or later.  Some take longer than others, bit it’s jist a fact ae life.  Ye’re jist gonnae hiv tae get used tae it,” he’d said.

  “So, ye’re no concerned where she might be or whit might happen tae her then?” she’d spat accusingly.

  “That’s no ma words...that’s you that’s speaking.  The mair ye hiv a go at her, the worse it’ll get.  She’s made up her mind and we hiv tae respect her fur hivving the courage tae take that decision.  Christ, Ah remember when we first moved in thegither.  Ah wis back at ma maw’s howling fur days efter it, so Ah wis.  The only problem wis, she couldnae wait tae get rid ae me and kept slinging ma arse back oot the door, telling me Ah’d made ma bed and that Ah should get oan wae it.”

  “Did ye?  Ah never knew that.  Ye never telt me ye did that.”

  “Aye, well there wis a lot ae things Ah never telt ye at the time.”

  Helen took another drag ae her fag, looked at her shoapping list again and added sultanas tae it.  Jimmy hid asked her if she’d make a clootie dumpling o’er the Christmas break.  Her thoughts turned tae the events earlier in the day.  Although her and Issie hid been late fur the start ae the warrant sale, everything hid panned oot okay.  The fact that the minister hid turned up wae some ae his congregation hid been a bonus.  It hid also saved her and Issie the hassle ae trooping aw o’er Springburn tae search oot The Reverend Flaw’s church, tae see if he’d dae Joe’s service the following Wednesday.

  “Of course I’ll do it, Mrs Taylor,” he’d said withoot hesitation, when Helen hid asked him oan behauf ae Issie.

  “So, it’s nae a problem that ma boy wis baptised a Catholic then, Reverend,” Issie hid asked him.

  “If you would prefer a priest, I’m sure I could arrange that for you,” he’d replied.

  “Naw, naw, you daeing it wid be pure dead brilliant, so it wid.”

  “Why don’t you come up to the church on Monday and we can discuss the service, Mrs McManus.”

  “Oh, er, Ah’m sorry, Reverend, bit Ah widnae want Joe tae be carted oot ae a church, him being a Catholic and aw that.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, Mrs McManus.  It wouldn’t be a problem...at least, not for me.”

  “Naw, bit it wid be fur me and his da.  Ah’m no prepared tae be disrespectful tae yer church and congregation.  It’s no right.  If it’s okay wae yersel, Ah’ll see if Ah kin get a hall or something tae hire fur an hour or so.  He’s getting buried across in the cemetery oan Keppochhill Road at ten o’clock this coming Wednesday, so he is.”

  “I see.  Well, why don’t you leave the arrangements to me.  I’m sure I could get the use of the small hall beside the Springburn Public Halls in Millarbank Street, which is only a short distance from the cemetery.  It would mean that any mourners would only have a short walk to make and I could arrange tea for afterwards.  How does that sound?”

  “Oh, er, Ah widnae want tae take up yer precious time, Reverend.  Ye’ve done enough as it is, so ye hiv.”

  “No, you’ve been through enough, so I insist.  Right, that’s settled then.  If it’s alright with you, I’ll come up to your house and speak with you and Mr McManus about the arrangements.  I never knew your son, Joe, so it would give me an opportunity for you both to tell me a little about him.  I’ve always found that those closest to the person who have passed away feel much better when they’ve had an opportunity to discuss and reflect on the life of their loved one to the person who will be conducting the service.”