Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 (17 page)

Chapter Twenty Four

  “So, when ur we gonnae get they new fancy personal radios, Colin?” The Sarge groaned, as Percy Crippen, the polis surgeon, wis trying tae pry open his swollen eye tae hiv a wee gander at it.

  “When they finish trialling it o’er in Pollock,” The Inspector answered, surveying the scene in the mess room. 

  It looked like a scene oot ae a war film.  Hauf a dozen ae his men wur lying oan the benches, groaning, and in various states ae undress, sporting fresh bandages and eye patches.  Luckily fur them, hauf a dozen ae the St John’s ambulance volunteers wur using a room in the building tae dae first aid training because the building they usually used o’er in Crown Street in the Gorbals hid goat burned doon by some wee toe-rags the night before, and they’d come tae Central as a back-up.  Maist ae the damage hid been done up in John Street, bit there wur a few fresh wounds that hid occurred while they wur evicting the wummin fae the back ae the Black Marias.  Fae fighting tae stay oot ae them, the wummin hid refused tae leave the vans in an orderly fashion wance they’d arrived doon at Central.

  “Come and get us, ya bampots, ye,” a foul-mouthed, fat tart hid taunted them when the back door wis slung open, then quickly slammed shut again. 

  Luckily, the second van hidnae arrived yet, due tae it breaking doon oan the High Street jist opposite The Cottage Bar, so there hid been time tae get Jocky Stuart, who wis driving the second van, tae park up and no open the back door ae his van till they’d goat the first wan emptied.  Daddy Jackson, ex-paratrooper, who’d been involved in raids behind enemy lines during the war, hid come oot tae investigate the racket and tae offer advice.

  “How many ur in each van?”

  “Ah don’t know…probably hauf a dozen or so.”

  “Is that aw?  Christ, ye’d think there wis a couple ae dozen, judging by the bloody racket they’re making,” he’d shouted above the din ae the wummin who wur aw kicking and punching fuck oot ae the inside ae the swaying van that wis parked in front ae the back door in the yard.

  “Wait tae ye see them in the flesh.  They’d make Cinderella’s ugly sisters look like living dolls, so they wid,” Big Jim hid murmured, limping past, pressing a bloody towel against the cheek ae his bare arse.

  “Ach, well, we’ll see if they’ll come quietly wance we reason wae them.  If no, we’ll jist hiv tae dive in and bodily evict them, wan at a time.  Colin, go and get yer boys oot here.”

  “We’ve only a few left who’re still staunin.  There’s three up at The Royal and hauf a dozen oan their backs in the mess room getting treatment, which leaves five, including masel, who’re fit and able tae try tae tackle the task in haun.”

  “Right, hing oan the noo,” Daddy said, nipping back intae the station and returning within a minute wae two turnkeys and a male cleaner in a broon coat wae a mop in his haun. 

  The other van hid arrived by this time and hid been telt tae haud oan till the first wan hid been emptied.  Jocky Stuart hid come o’er tae make up the numbers.

  “So, whit’s the plan then, Daddy?” Colin hid asked, warily looking across at the Black Maria that wis staunin there, suddenly motionless, wae no a cheep coming fae inside ae it.

  “The beauty ae these wee Commer vans is that they’re slung low, so if need be, like jist noo, it’ll allow us tae jist dive right in, withoot hivving tae dae any climbing.  There’s nothing worse than climbing up tae yer attacker and him raining blows doon oan tae yer napper.  Right, and another thing, get rid ae yer batons,” Daddy hid said grimly, looking at each and everywan ae the pale faces in front ae him in turn. “Ye don’t want tae be in a confined space wae they things.  Ye won’t be able tae use them and ye don’t want yer enemy tae get his hauns oan them either.  Naw, this is unarmed, close quarter combat, so it is.  Okay, lads, listen up, let’s get this o’er and done wae.  Wance that back door is open, let me dae the talking.  Okay?”

  “Jocky, creep o’er and open that back door, bit watch yersel,” Colin hid warned, in a whisper.

  “Who? Me?”

  “Naw, yer fucking granny, ya stupid basturt, ye,” Daddy hid hissed in an exasperated hauf whisper.  “Of course it’s you he’s talking tae…noo get fucking oan wae it.”

  Jocky hid crept gingerly o’er tae the back ae the van, looking back and checking that everywan wis ready before he turned the haundle.  The door hid been immediately kicked open fae the inside, clattering against the side ae the van and nearly taking the hinges wae it, as the sound ae metal clashing against metal boomed aff the walls ae the courtyard.  Daddy hid taken a deep breath and strode across, bold as brass, impressing aw those witnessing it, who wur following four steps behind his back.

  “Hellorerr, ladies, ye widnae mind stepping oot ae the van, minding yer heids oan the tap ae the door as ye go, wid ye?” he’d asked in his maist chatty voice, sounding nonchalantly jolly.

  “Come and get us, ya wanker, ye.”

  “Now, now, ladies, there’s nae need fur foul language, is there?” he’d said, peering intae the open door, wae his hauns spread oot wide, demonstrating that he wis unarmed.

  Daddy hid then turned back tae his colleagues, who’d stoapped bringing up the rear, and hid winked at them confidently, wae a big grin oan that coupon ae his.  Colin hid felt his heart sink like a stane, as he’d clocked Daddy’s folly as soon as he’d turned his heid away fae the open door.  Colin didnae hiv time tae shout at the cocky basturt tae duck, before a length ae placard pole hid come zooming oot ae the darkened interior like an Olympic javelin and scudded Daddy oan the back ae the napper.

  “Charge!  Let’s get tore intae them!” Colin hid screamed, diving through the open door before Daddy hid hit the cobbled yard, face first. 

  Later oan, as he wis being gied first aid, Colin couldnae remember if it hid been his ain screams he’d heard or those ae the wummin, efter he’d dived intae the back ae the van. Aw he could remember wis the screeching, punching, kicking, scratching and the hauns that hid grabbed him by the hair.  It hid taken aboot fifteen minutes tae get them aw oot intae the yard, through the door and intae the first cell.  By the time he’d arrived back in the yard, the second van hid been reversed up tae the back door and Daddy hid been back oan his feet and in command.

  “Right, Jocky, open that fucking door,” Daddy hid shouted, baton in haun, using it tae point in the direction ae the second van.

  As soon as Jocky hid turned the haundle and jumped back, the door hid wance again been booted open, crashing against the side ae the van.  Daddy hidnae fucked aboot either before taking a flying dive in amongst the hairys, who’d aw started punching, kicking and screaming.  Ten minutes later, The Battle ae John Street hid been aw o’er, bar the howling, as the rest ae the rioters wur bodily manhuandled intae the second cell.

  “Right, we’ll gie them a couple ae hours tae calm doon before we start charging the basturts, boys,” Daddy hid declared tae everywan staunin in the circle aroond him.

  They’d aw stood there panting, trying tae get their breath back, as they stared at the big bald patch that hid appeared oan the side ae Daddy’s heid, that hidnae been there that morning when he’d turned up fur his shift.

Chapter Twenty Five

  Helen sat wae her back against the white tiled wall and looked at the lassies sitting or lying sprawled across the cell fae her. They wur aw engrossed in checking oot how bad their war wounds wur or how best tae cover up the bulging bare flesh that wis trying tae escape through the rips in their best frocks.  Everywan wis in their bare feet, hivving either lost their high heels in the fight up in John Street or hivving hid them confiscated tae use against them in evidence by the polis.  She gingerly touched the side ae her heid wae the tips ae her fingers and winced.  She’d confronted Liam Thompson aboot their use ae batons, at the entrance tae the station, in the yard, efter wan ae the two polismen manhaundling her, hid gone tae the aid ae wan ae his colleagues who wis being belted wae a shoe.  She hidnae seen the clenched fist coming.  She remembered seeing the stripes oan the erm ae his jacket swinging upwards, jist before she’d drapped like a bag ae coal.  When she’d
come tae, she’d been getting dragged alang the corridor tae the cells by a polisman oan either side ae her. She lifted up her haun and tried tae focus oan they fingers ae hers.  They seemed tae be shaking uncontrollably.  Her vision wis blurred, bit she could still feel the movement in them.  She looked aboot tae see if anywan hid been watching her.
 
Soiled Sally looked across at Helen, fae where she wis sitting, face expressionless fur a few seconds, before smiling.  Helen smiled back, wincing in agony.  Sally’s smile turned tae a giggle.

  “Whit’s so funny?” Helen asked, letting oot a wee whimpering groan, as she grinned back.

  “Us,” Sally said, looking at everywan scattered aboot the cell.  “Tae think we aw goat dolled-up this morning tae get oor picture in the paper and noo look at us.  Ah cannae see any ae us winning that ‘Drink Mair Milk’ competition noo, kin you?”

“Whit milk competition is that then?” asked Sharon Campbell.  “Ah never heard aboot that wan.”

  “Aye, seemingly the winner gets taken tae some beauty farm fur a week, where some big hunk, wae nae vest oan that oily body ae his, gies ye a massage and ye end up coming oot at the other end, looking like that ugly skinny cow wae the big paps, Rachel Welch.”

  “Is that right?  They obviously didnae hiv us in mind when they launched that wan.  It wid take at least two years ae mair than a massage jist tae make me even come close tae looking like Ena Sharples, never mind Rachel bloody Welch,” Soiled Sally said drily, trying tae pat doon a clump ae hair which wis staunin oan end, as everywan laughed.

  “Aye, Ah could be daeing wae a wee bit ae a massage masel,” Cathy Galloway sniffed, failing tae keep a rip in her dress fae exposing her flesh, before adding, “And Ah widnae gie a toss whit it wis they wur gieing me, so as long as it hid a man, bare chested or no, attached tae the end ae it.”

  That last utterance broke the misery.  Everywan burst oot cackling and laughing, as they looked across at Cathy, staunin there in her bare feet…aw four feet ae her, weighing in at eighteen stane plus and looking aroond at everywan wae a lazy eye that she’d been blessed wae at birth.

  “Whit?  Is it ma make-up?” she asked them, touching her cheek gently wae her blood-stained, broken fingernails, as she plapped her arse doon oan the edge ae the concrete bed oan the flair.

  Everywan cracked up, laughing.

  “Hmm, Ah don’t know if Ah’d like that,” Mary Malone announced, wance the laughter died doon efter five minutes.

  “Whit?”

  “Spending a week doon oan some manky farm.”

  “Whit and miss oot oan some big man-hunk rubbing they hauns ae his aw o’er that body ae yers?”

  “It’s no the hunk and his hauns Ah’d be worrying aboot.  It’s aw they bugs and things getting intae places that they shouldnae,” Mary said, letting oot a shiver,
at the same time as gieing that arse ae hers a good scratch through wan ae the tears in her good frock.

  “It’s no hauns the hunk wid need, bit erms like elastic bands and hauns the size ae shovels tae get fae wan side ae ma body tae the other,” Sandra said, staunin up and hitching her paps up aff that belly ae hers before letting them flop back doon.  “Ah hope they photo men goat ma good side,” she said, touching up her hair, as everywan cracked up again.

  “Who wis that wee ugly prick wae the red wire-wool hair?”

  “Whit?  The wan we ran o’er when we first charged forward?”

  “Aye, Ah hivnae seen him aboot.”

  “Aye, well, don’t haud yer breathe that ye’ll see him soon either.  Ah think Ah felt wan ae ma good high heels puncture they baws ae his oan the way o’er the tap ae him.  If it didnae happen the first time, it definitely happened oan the return leg ae the journey,” Soiled Sally said tae mair laughter.

  “Did any ae ye see Betty gie that skelly-eyed twat, Crisscross, a moothful ae dandruff?”

  “Aye, it wis a bloody stoater, so it wis.  Ah felt that wan masel fae where Ah wis staunin, battering wan ae they bizzies o’er the heid wae that good sign ae mine that Ah spent aw day last night putting thegither.”

  Efter a while, they stoapped talking and laughing, straining tae hear whit wis being said next door.

  “Dae Ah think he felt it?  Did he buggery,” they heard Betty screeching tae loud laughter fae next door.  “Ah knew he wis well oot ae the game as soon as that pole ae mine snapped, bouncing aff ae that skinny napper ae his.  He’ll think twice before he tries tae tackle me again.”

  “So, whit’s gonnae happen noo, Helen?” Sharon asked, bringing everywan back doon tae earth.

  “They’ll probably charge us wae breach ae the peace and maybe even assault.”

  “Bit, it wis they basturts that stampeded and assaulted us first.”

  “Aye, we wur only defending oorsels,” Sally reminded them.

  “Aye, bit it’ll be oor word against theirs.  Is that no right, Helen?”

  “Aye, they’ll definitely paint us oot tae be the aggressors.”

  “Did ye hear the filth coming oot ae the mooths ae they plods?  That Inspector wan snarled at me and said that JP wid soon clean oor mooths oot and called us a bunch ae mangy harlots…the cheeky fucker,” Soiled Sally exclaimed indignantly.

  “Ah hope ma Billy knows where Ah keep the wan bob bits fur the meter or he’ll be eating dug food the night when he comes in fae his work,” Cathy said seriously, as everywan burst oot laughing again.

  “Did ye hear that, girls?” Sharon shouted tae the cell next door.

  “Naw, whit wis that?” Betty shouted back fae next door.

  “That Cathy wan jist said that she’s worried aboot poor Billy coming hame fae his work and hivving tae eat dug meat due tae the fact he disnae know where she keeps her gas coins.”

  “Meat?  Whit?  Oan a Thursday?” Ann Jackson shouted back, as everywan, including Cathy cracked up laughing again.

  Helen sat listening tae the banter.  She fought hard no tae burst oot greeting.  She wis still in a state ae shock.  Whit hid happened?  Wan minute aw the wummin hid been staunin, getting their picture taken and the next, hauf the polis in the toon hid arrived, mob-haunded, spoiling fur a fight.  In aw the years she’d been demonstrating against the warrant sales in the Toonheid, there’d usually only been two, maybe three polis in attendance, other than the sheriff officers.  Even oan the occasions when reinforcements hid hid tae be called, it wis usually only a squad car wae another two constables in it that hid attended.  There must’ve been o’er twenty polismen, aw armed tae the teeth.  Why?  Whit hid been so special aboot this particular sale?  Granted, the last two hid been noisy affairs, bit it hid aw been good-humoured.  Violence wis rare fae either side.  It wis clear that somewan, somewhere, hid hid enough and meant tae drive the protesters aff ae the street, bit using polis batons against wummin?

  “Eh?  Whit wis that?” Helen asked, her thoughts being interrupted.

  “Ah wis jist saying, thank God we’ve goat JP Donnelly as oor cooncillor.  He knows us aw.  JP will let us aw aff wae a warning, won’t he, Helen?” Soiled Sally repeated, as aw the wummin in the cell looked across at Helen.

  “Oh, Sally,” Helen sobbed, unable tae stoap the flow ae tears running doon her cheeks.

  It didnae make her feel any better when everywan hobbled across and put their erms roond her.

  “Ach, Helen, don’t blame yersel, hen.  We wur obviously set up by some wee poncey prick.  Don’t ye worry, hen, it’ll aw come oot in the wash, so it will. It always dis.”

  In the morning, efter two slices ae thick stale breid each and tea fur breakfast, they wur escorted alang the corridor and piled intae a big room wae a double-sided bench running doon the middle ae it, next door tae the District Court.

  “Yer lawyers will be here in a minute, tae talk tae youse girls,” a big ghoulish-looking turnkey said, slipping oot the door quickly before he goat a moothful ae abuse.

  “It’s a pity Ah hivnae goat any make-up wae me,” Soiled Sally moaned.

  “Sandra, get that greasy face ae yours o’er here.  Sally needs some pan-stick,” Betty said pleasantly, easing the tension in the room.

  “Ladies, ladies, don’t get up.  Ah kin see ye’ve aw hid a rough night.  Ma name’s Mr Barker and this is Mr Howdy.  We’re yer legal representatives,” a pinstriped brief announced, stepping intae the room tae a surprised look fae aw the wummin.

  “Please tae meet youse,” his partner said wae a wide-boy smile.

  “Howdy!” a chorus ae voices shot back.

  “Aye?” he asked.

  “Naw, naw, son, they’re aw jist saying hello,” Sharon volunteered helpfully.

  “Eh?”

  “Nothing…never mind, son.”

  “So, let’s see.  Oh, aye, we’ve goat some good news and some bad news,” Barker announced, making an effort tae shuffle the sheath ae papers that he hid clutched in his hauns, in an attempt tae gie everywan the impression he wis oan the job.  “So, whit wid ye prefer first?”

  Everywan looked across at Helen.

  “Gie’s the good news,” she replied.

  “Maist ae youse ur only getting charged wae breach ae the peace.”

  “Is that good then?”

  “Aye, if youse aw drap the assault charges against the polis, then they’ll drap the grievous bodily harm wans against youse.”

  “Aw, that’s awright then, isn’t it girls?” Betty said and maist ae them nodded in agreement. “So, whit’s the bad news then?”

  “Three ae youse ur still getting charged wae assault.  They widnae gie in oan they wans.”

  “And who’s that then?”

  “Mrs Campbell, Mrs Taylor and Mrs Smith.”

  “Me?  Ah never done a bloody thing.  Ah wis jist oot fur ma messages and Ah goat caught up in the commotion, gaun aboot ma business.”

  “And who ur you, hen?”

  “Sharon Campbell.”

  “Aye, well, let me see,” Barker said, shuffling his papers, before withdrawing a typed sheet and pretending tae read it.  “Oh, aye, here we go.  It says here that ye assaulted PC Scullion Smith by repeatedly stamping oan his nether regions, tae his severe injury.”

  “Whit?  Me?  Did Ah hell.  Whoever said that is a lying fork-tongued weasel.  Ah stumbled and felt somewan under ma feet as Ah ran tae get oot ae the road ae the commotion that wis gaun oan, didn’t Ah, girls?”

  “Oh, aye.”

  “Saw it wae ma ain two eyes.”

  “It’s a wunner ye wurnae trampled underfit as well, Sharon.”

  “See?  Ah telt ye,” Sharon declared, a hurt expression spreading across that coupon ae hers at the accusation.

  “Aye, well, it goes oan tae say, Mrs Campbell, that ye wur waving a big pole aboot at the other polis officers tae keep them at bay, while ye wur inflicting the said injuries.”

  “Pish!”

  “Mrs Smith?  Which wan ae youse is Mrs Smith?” Howdy asked, looking aboot.

  “That’ll be me then,” Betty volunteered.

  “It says here that ye assaulted PC Chris Cross by sticking the heid oan him, gieing him two black eyes and fracturing the bridge ae his nose, tae his severe injury.  Is that true?”

  “Too true it is.  Whit a skelp Ah gied him.  Ah knew the prick widnae get up efter that wan landed.”

  “So, ye admit it then?”

  “Dae Ah hell.  Ah never laid a haun oan him.”

  “Mrs Taylor?”

  “Here.”

  “It says here that ye punched Sergeant Liam Thompson oan his right eye while he attempted tae arrest ye fur committing a breach ae the peace.”

  “Aye, well it widnae be the first time, wid it?”

  “Whit widnae be the first time?”

  “He’s tried that Jackanory tale oan me before and it didnae stick then and it wullnae stick noo.”

  “Anyway, ladies, Ah’ve talked tae the judge, JP Donnelly, who’s oan the bench this morning, and he’s agreed tae be lenient wae youse aw if ye plead guilty.  There’s tae be nae negotiating…it’s either aw ae youse or none ae youse.  Ma advice is tae take the deal.”

  “Ah knew Ah recognised ye, ya wee runt, ye,” Helen said, scowling at the brief, remembering that Johnboy wis due tae be released fae Larchgrove that morning.

  “Ah beg yer pardon?”

  “Ye represented, or rather didnae, ma wee boy o’er at the Marine in Partick, a couple ae weeks ago.  Is that no right?  His name is Johnboy Taylor.”