The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter (52 page)

  Silence.

  “Remember that big fat prick, Bawheid Baxter?  When we telt Johnboy aboot Skinny Malinky’s information, the first thing he wanted tae know, wis whether Bawheid wis oan the list.”

  “How come?”

  “He wis the wan that nearly goat Johnboy’s maw chipped oot ae her hoose twice yearly through warrant sales when he wis growing up.  He’ll hiv a bloody heart attack when he feels Johnboy’s size nine up that big fat crack ae his, so he will…they aw will,” Tony said, as the baith ae them smiled.  “The only fly in the ointment though, is that we’ll need tae stay well clear ae they Simpson brothers o’er in Possil.  If we keep well clear ae them and stick tae Milton, Colston, Springburn, Burmulloch and Balornock, there shouldnae be any bother.”

   Paul and Tony sat watching Johnboy and Joe, chasing each other wae branches they’d wrenched aff a tree.  Paul smiled, as he watched them.  He’d known Tony and Joe aw his life.  They’d played in the same puddles in the same back courts ae the Toonheid when they could barely walk, while their maws hid stood chattering fur hours at the back closemooths, smoking fag efter fag, only stoapping every noo and again tae take a breather and tae shout at them tae stoap fucking aboot in the dirty water.  Johnboy hid been a later addition tae The Mankys, joining them when he wis aboot ten.  He wisnae as daft as he looked and kept them aw gaun wae that sense ae humour ae his.  Paul missed Silent, who wis still stuck in Thistle Park, bit maist of aw, he missed Skull, who should’ve been fucking aboot in front ae him jist noo, play-fencing wae Joe and Johnboy.  He thought back tae the previous Christmas, when they’d aw been in each other’s company, holed up in a tenement doon in McAslin Street fur weeks o’er Christmas, planning a come-back fur whit hid happened tae Skull.  The road trip he’d jist completed wae The Gardener’s Daughter hid gied him an opportunity tae think aboot his life…when he wisnae arguing wae her, that wis.  It seemed tae him, that aw during their lives, Tony, Joe, Johnboy, Silent and Skull hid been fighting against the people who they believed wur the enemy.  He couldnae remember ever discussing wae any ae them how they’d come up wae who the enemy wis when they wur growing up, other than wanting tae hiv a go at anywan who tried tae haud them back fae daeing whit they wanted, whether it wis in school, in the chapel or oot oan the streets.  They’d never fallen oot wae each other, although there hid been plenty ae greeting, especially fae Skull, who’d been in the tap ae the first division when it came tae whinging.  He looked across at Tony, sitting there, wae a grin splashed across his coupon, watching the antics ae Joe and Johnboy.   He thought aboot Skull again.  Oan the way doon tae the falls, Johnboy hid telt Paul in the car that Skull hid been sitting waiting in the solitary confinement cell that they’d slung him intae efter he’d been returned tae Thistle Park.  He said that Skull hid found his Celtic tammy that he’d lost in the cabin fire.  Johnboy said he looked really happy and hid telt him that he’d be getting in that night, so he couldnae hing aboot.

  “It’s aw o’er wae noo, Paul.  We kin aw move oan.  Skull’s where he wants tae be,” Tony hid said, as the other two nodded.

Paul hid awready packed aw his gear, which wisnae much really.  He’d telt Innes and Whitey that he still intended tae heid back tae the toon.  He’d explained that the big city wis his hame and although he felt a strong pull tae stay in the Highlands, he didnae think the slow pace ae life suited somewan like him.  The pair ae them hid been smiling through they
tears ae theirs when he’d made his announcement.

  “I think you’re wrong, laddie.  You’re exactly what the Highlands need.  Strong-willed young men, who are not afraid to stand up to the big landowners, who still have people like us chained to the yoke.  Without people like you, all our fight against the injustices will have been in vain and we’ll all have died for nothing,” Innes hid said, lighting his cracked clay pipe in a cloud ae smoke.

  “Innes, that’s terrible.  You can’t lay the responsibility for whether the old traditions in the Highlands will die or not, on someone like Paul, or any of the other young people for that matter.  Maybe it’s us that need to forget the past and get on with our life, or what is left of it, and let the young people get on with theirs.”

  Paul thought aboot The Gardener’s Daughter and smiled.  She wisnae that bad, despite that family ae hers and maybe she hid been serious when she’d stated that she wis the next generation and that she’d dae things differently tae that da ae hers.  He still wisnae sure that she goat it though.  Innes hid telt him it wis aw aboot blood.

“Where do ye think the proverb ‘A leopard never changes its spots’ comes from, laddie?  People…dynasties like the MacDonalds, will never change, as long as they have a pulse left in them.  God forbid they ever get control of the air that we breathe.”  

   Paul thought aboot the crofters eking oot a living in the strath and elsewhere…still suffering at the hauns ae their tormentors fae o’er a hunner or two hunner years ago, wae the auld sores still weeping.  He thought aboot Morven, whose attitude seemed tae be ‘that’s the way life is and we’re not going to change it because that’s how it’s always been,’ even though he knew she didnae really mean that.  Deep doon, he knew that she knew whit wis right fae wrong, just and unjust and that come the day…if it ever did come…she’d choose the right side.  He now knew that she wis far too good fur somewan like him, even though she’d probably hiv something tae say aboot him believing that.  Saba hid been right when she’d pointed oot that he’d fuck it up if he stayed in the strath and Morven wid be the wan tae cop the maist grief.  George and Cameron Sellar wid see tae that.  Innes and Whitey wur getting oan, despite seeming tae be fit as fiddles.  Even in the short space ae time that he’d lived wae them, he’d noticed them slowing doon.  He wis shocked tae see that Innes hid aged since being shot wae the poachers’ retreat and Whitey looked terribly tired, hobbling aboot wae her fit still in a bandage efter the damage inflicted by the rusty nail.  He didnae want tae bring any mair hassle tae their door, despite whit Innes might say.  Innes hid asked him wan time when they wur oot poaching, why the hell he wis fighting fur nae reward in the city when he could be fighting fur everything in the Highlands.  Paul hid laughed when Innes hid said it.

  “Christ, Innes, ye’ve been fighting aw yer life and ye’re still scratching aboot oan a postage stamp.  When Ah’ve put in the years that ye’ve put in, Ah’m hoping tae hiv a bit
mair than this,” he’d responded cruelly.

  “That’s my point, laddie,” he’d replied, wae kindness in his voice, which Paul knew he didnae deserve.

  “Right, boys, ur youse ready tae hit the road?” Tony shouted, breaking intae his thoughts.

  “Too true,” Johnboy turned and shouted back, jist as Joe whacked him oan the side ae the heid wae his leafy branch.

  “Duck!” Joe shouted efter it landed wae a smack, sending Johnboy intae a frenzied howling wail ae pain that made them aw burst oot laughing as Joe tried tae convince him that it hid been an accident.

Chapter Eighty Two

  Innes, Whitey, Tim, Wan-eye…and Morven looked up at the sound ae the car zooming alang the strath.  Morven hid only jist heard earlier that morning that Paul wis back, when she’d bumped intae Swein McTavish, who’d been up at the castle, meeting wae Mr Riddrie.  Efter Swein hid left, she’d gone and informed Mr Riddrie that she wisnae feeling too well due tae ‘wummin’s trouble,’ and efter a bit of huffing, puffing and tut-tutting, he’d slipped his pocket watch oot ae his waistcoat and looked at it before agreeing that she could take time aff.  She’d run through Balblair Wood, in the maid’s uniform that she’d been telt tae wear since the day that Saba disappeared, and hid heided straight fur the croft.  She’d wondered why Paul hidnae goat in touch as soon as he’d goat back.  She’d thought tae hersel that he must’ve been tired, bit then she’d goat angry.  If the shoe hid been oan the other fit, wid she no hiv goat in touch wae him straight away?  Another strange thing hid happened the previous night.  It hid been a fluke that she’d picked up the telephone at the castle.  Saba hid telephoned her fae the train station in Glesgie.  She’d hardly been able tae hear whit Saba wis saying because ae the noise ae the echoing voice coming o’er the tannoy speakers, calling passengers fur the last time, as the train wis jist aboot tae leave the station.

  “Saba, you’re safe, thank God!”

  “Morven, thank God it’s you.  Listen, I don’t have much time.  I’m fine.  Listen…don’t interrupt me.  The reason I’m calling is that Paul will be heading back to the strath to collect his things.  If you want him to stay, you’ll need to be there to intercept him.  I think he’s already made up his mind though that he’s heading back to Glasgow, but it’s worth a go.  Perhaps if he sees you, he’ll realise his mistake.  He’s worth fighting for.  I’m sorry, I’ll need to go, my train is about to leave,” Saba hid shouted, hinging up.

  Efter aw the times that Saba hid insisted that she’d be better aff no seeing him, that he wis trouble wae a capital T, and then that phone call?  Whit hid made Saba change her mind, Morven wondered.   And then there wis George and Cameron Sellar.

  “If that Lost Boy ever shows his face around here again, we’ll be here waiting for him.  It would be better for you to accept that you’re one of us, instead of getting any nonsense into that pretty head of yours, Morven,” George Sellar hid snarled at her the efternoon efter Saba and Paul disappeared.

  “I’d rather die than be called ‘one of you,’” Morven hid hissed back, as George grabbed her by the wrist and twisted it, letting oot a laugh as she yelped in pain before managing tae break free fae his grip.

  “Don’t worry, George, she’ll learn soon enough where her bed is feathered,” Cameron hid sneered, as she ran doon the drive towards Culrain and hame.

  “Now, listen, lass.  You’ve just got to accept that this place is not the place for someone like
Paul.  You have to let him go...you’re young...you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

  ”But I don’t want to lose him, Innes,” Morven said, her eyes filling up.

  “I know, lass,” Whitey said, putting her erm aroond her, as the car came tae a screeching stoap, amidst a cloud ae dust at the tap ae the brae.

  They watched the boys stumble oot ae the car and look doon at them.  Wan-eye trotted aff up tae meet Paul coming doon the wee curved drive.  Paul bent doon and scratched the dug’s left ear, before proceeding towards them.  Whitey hid awready brought Paul’s packed bag and guitar doon tae the front step ae the croft fur him.  He stoapped three feet in front ae them, his face a bit flushed looking.  He looked at Morven and gied her a wee smile and then o’er at Whitey and Innes.

“If it’s okay wae yersels, Ah widnae mind hinging aboot a wee while longer and finding oot mair aboot this crofting malarkey,” Paul said tae them, as he turned and waved tae the boys, who wur staunin watching, up at the car. 

  Withoot a word, The Mankys jumped back intae the Escort and sped aff towards Ardgay, tooting the horn loudly as the car disappeared oot ae sight roond the bend at the old schoolhoose.

  “Oh, Paul!” Morven and Whitey cried oot thegither, before rushing across and hugging him, tears in their eyes.

  “Welcome home, laddie,” Innes beamed, as Paul looked between the sobbing heids ae the two wummin in his life, towards Culrain Castle in the distance…and George Sellar.

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Parly Road is the first book in The Glasgow Chronicles series by Ian Todd and is also available on Amazon Kindle:

It is the summer of 1965 and things are looking up for ten-year-old Johnboy Taylor in the Townhead district of Glasgow.  Not only has he made two new pals, who have recently come to his school after being expelled from one of the local Catholic schools, but their dream of owning their own pigeon loft or ‘dookit’ and competing with the city’s grown-up ‘doo-men’ in the sport they love, could soon become a reality.  The only problem is that The Mankys don’t have the dosh to pay for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Lady Luck begins to shine down on them when Pat Molloy, aka The Big Man, one of Glasgow’s top heavies asks them to do him a wee favour. The Mankys are soon embroiled in an adult world of gangsters, police corruption, violence and crime.

Meanwhile, Johnboy’s mother, Helen Taylor is busy trying to keep one step ahead of the local Provi-cheque men and organising a group of local women to demonstrate against the Corporation’s Sheriff officer’s warrant sales.

Set against the backdrop of a condemned tenement slum area, the fate of which has already been decided upon as it stands in the way of the city’s new Inner Ring Road motorway development, the boys soon realise that to survive on the streets, they have to stay one step ahead of those in authority.  The only problem for The Mankys is working out who’s really in charge.

Parly Road is full of the shadiest characters that 1960s Glasgow has to offer and takes the reader on a rollercoaster journey that has been described as irreverently hilarious, bad-assed, poignantly sad and difficult to put down
.
 

Run Johnboy Run – The Glasgow Chronicles 2 is also available on Amazon Kindle
:

It is 1968 and The Mankys are back with a vengeance after thirteen-year-old Johnboy Taylor is confronted by a ghost from his past. The only problem is, he’s just been sentenced to 3 years at Thistle Park Approved School, which houses Scotland’s wildest teen tearaways. Without his liberty, Johnboy is in no position to determine whether the devastating revelation is a figment of his vivid imagination or whether dark forces are conspiring against him.

Elsewhere in the city, Glasgow crime lord, Pat Molloy, aka The Big Man, is plotting to topple those who he believes were responsible for putting him out of the city’s thriving ‘Doo’ business three years earlier. Unfortunately for him, The Irish Brigade, a group of corrupt police inspectors, who rule the city with an iron fist, are not about to stand by and allow anyone to dip their fingers into their honey pot, without a fight.

Meanwhile, Helen Taylor, Johnboy’s mother, has come up with a dangerous plan that she believes will finally overturn The City Corporation’s policy of selling their tenants’ household goods through humiliating public warrant sales. Reluctantly, she is forced to join forces with The Glasgow Echo’s sleazy top crime reporter, Sammy ‘The Rat’ Elliot, whose shadowy reputation of having more than one master makes him feared and reviled by the underworld and the establishment in equal measure.

Run Johnboy Run is an explosive tale of city crime in 1960s Glasgow, involving a heady mix of establishment leaders and gangsters, who will use anyone to keep control of the city’s lucrative underworld. The only problem is, can anyone really be trusted?

With more faces than the town clock, Run Johnboy Run dredges up the best scum the city has to offer and throws them into the wackiest free-for-all double-crossing battle that Glasgow has witnessed in a generation and The Mankys are never far from where the action is.

You have just read The Lost Boy And The Gardener’s Daughter, which is the third book in The Glasgow Chronicles series

The Mattress – The Glasgow Chronicles 4 is also available on Amazon Kindle:

In this, the fourth book of The Glasgow Chronicles series, dark clouds are gathering over Springburn’s tenements, in the lead up to the Christmas holiday period of 1971.  The Mankys, now one of Glasgow’s foremost up and coming young criminal gangs, are in trouble…big trouble…and there doesn’t seem to be anything that their charismatic leader, Tony Gucci, can do about it.  For the past year, The Mankys have been under siege from Tam and Toby Simpson, notorious leaders of The Simpson gang from neighbouring Possilpark, who have had enough of The Mankys, and have decided to wipe them out, once and for all.

To make matters worse, Tony’s mentor, Pat Molloy, aka The Big Man and his chief lieutenant, Wan-bob Brown, have disappeared from the Glasgow underworld scene, resulting in Tony having to deal with Shaun Murphy, who has taken charge of The Big Man’s criminal empire in The Big Man’s absence.  Everyone knows that Shaun Murphy hates The Mankys even more than The Simpsons do.

As if this isn’t bad enough, Johnboy Taylor and Silent Smith, two of the key Manky players, are currently languishing in solitary confinement in Polmont Borstal.  As Johnboy awaits his release on Hogmanay, he has endless hours to contemplate how The Mankys have ended up in their current dilemma, whilst being unable to influence the feared conclusion that is unravelling back in Springburn.

Meanwhile, police sergeants Paddy McPhee, known as ‘The Stalker’ on the streets for reputedly always getting his man and his partner, Finbar ‘Bumper’ O’Callaghan, have been picking up rumours on the streets for some time that The Simpsons have been entering The Big Man’s territory of Springburn, behind Shaun Murphy’s back, in pursuit of The Mankys.

In this dark, gritty, fast-paced thriller of tit-for-tat violence, The Stalker soon realises that the stage is being set for the biggest showdown in Glasgow’s underworld history, when one of The Mankys is brutally stabbed to death outside The Princess Bingo Hall in Springburn’s Gourlay Street.

With time running out, Tony Gucci has to find a way of contacting and luring The Big Man into becoming involved in the fight, without incurring the wrath of Shaun Murphy.  To do this, Tony and The Mankys have to come up with a plan that will bring all the key players into the ring, whilst at the same time, allow The Mankys to avenge the murder of a friend.

Once again, some of Glasgow’s most notorious and shadiest ‘duckers and divers’ come together to provide this sometimes humorous, sometimes heart-wrenching and often violent tale of chaos and survival on the streets of 1970s Glasgow.

Still to be published by Ian Todd on Amazon Kindle:

The Wummin

Dumfries