The Silver Arrow (40 page)

6.00 A.M.

  Johnboy lay listening tae the sound ae the distant chatter and laughter ae the screws at the bottom ae the hall, as the pounding ae the feet ascended the stairs.  He’d been awake since before five. He looked doon at the bottom ae his door as a long shard ae light suddenly shot across his lino-covered flair.  The lights in the corridor hid been switched oan and the first cell door wis being opened fur the start ae slop-oot.  He waited patiently fur his turn, his chanty pot in his haun, as the screw made his way alang the landing, drawing nearer tae him.  The routine never changed.  Light oan, the sound ae the cell doors crashing open, before the screw moved oan tae the next cell.  He wondered whit the benefits wur ae wearing tackity army boots oan the night shift, in a place like Dumfries, other than tae noise-up the YOs lying sleeping in their beds at night.  He’d stood watching, alang wae a couple ae other YOs a few days earlier, hauf in horror and hauf in amusement, as a screw tried tae escape the clutches ae Hip McCormack, a big bear ae a guy fae Balornock, serving ten years fur stabbing a bizzy.  Hip hid been preparing his work cubicle fur a prelim City and Guilds exam.  He’d spent o’er a week making sure his mock bathroom wis perfect.  Above his dado line, he’d wallpapered the walls using a flowery, plastic coated wallpaper, while underneath, he’d rag-rolled the dado in a bright fiery orange glaze.

  “Rag-rolled that personality ae his up oan the wall, as a warning tae others,” Jimmy Baxter hid quipped wryly during the post-mortem discussion at the tea break.

Five attempts later and two minutes efter he’d completed his 99 percent, near perfect exhibition in the fine art ae painting and decorating, Bootsy Fudge, the ugliest screw in Dumfries, hid sneeringly arrived in Hip’s cubicle unannounced and preceded tae point oot that there wis a tiny wee speck ae a paintbrush bristle nestling under that bright glaze. 

  “Where?” Hip hid demanded, peering closely, searching fur the offending object.

  “There, ya daft basturt, ye,” Bootsy hid declared, sticking his finger smack bang in the middle ae Hip’s work ae art that he’d spent hours oan.

  There wur two things anywan wae any bit ae sense wid know in the P & D shoap…the first being that uninvited familiarity fae screws towards YOs wisnae tolerated and secondly, and this included YOs and screws jointly, ye didnae fucking interfere wae people’s pride and joy, no matter how shite it might appear tae look.  Bootsy hid soon received the well-deserved response he’d invited through that ignorance ae his, by being heid-butted by Hip.  Despite the broken nose that hauf the paint shoap heard being inflicted, Bootsy hid somehow managed tae remain oan his ain two feet, or in his case, two tackity soled, hob-nailed boots.  Unfortunately fur him, as he tried tae make a hasty retreat, he’d gied a fine impression ae how tae run oan the spot oan the concrete flair ae the cubicle, allowing Hip tae be hung fur a sheep as well as a lamb, as he took advantage ae pummelling intae Bootsy wae gusto.  Poor auld Hip wis noo lying doon in the digger.  Bootsy hid been banished as the resident security screw fae the paint shoap fur his gross stupidity and it wis noo his tackity boots that stoapped ootside Johnboy’s cell door before it crashed open and a pug-ugly face, wae two black eyes and a flattened boxer’s nose, demanded tae know if he wis awake.

6.30 A.M. 

  George Crawford wondered where the hell the fire wis until he opened his eyes and discovered that Alison hid, fur some strange reason, swopped roond the alarm clock, replacing his wae the wan he’d banished tae a box in the back ae the stair cupboard almost three years earlier.  That auld, bit familiar feeling, ae hivving a sudden heart attack hid returned and he noo lay gasping fur breath, listening tae his heartbeat missing every second beat in that chest ae his.  He wondered whit he’d done tae deserve this unexplained change.  She wis obvious letting him know that she wis displeased aboot something, bit he couldnae, fur the life ae himsel, figure oot whit it wis that he wis supposed tae hiv done.  Granted, she’d been distant wae him lately…gaun as far as accusing him ae living a lie and pretending that he wisnae an angry man, since they’d reconciled four years earlier.  She’d wanted tae go back tae see a coonsellor, bit he’d persuaded her otherwise, by informing her that how she wis feeling wis probably jist tae dae wae the change ae life…her menopause, he thought it wis called.  Despite no talking tae him fur the past week, he’d noticed a wee thaw and she seemed tae be coming roond.  He switched oan the bedside lamp, as he reached across and placed his sweaty, shaking palm oan the mattress, where he’d hiv expected that covered up body ae hers tae be.  The mattress wis cauld.  He cursed under his breath. She wis never up before him in the mornings, so his crime must be serious if she wis in the spare bedroom, he groaned tae himsel.  Efter his palpitations hid subsided and he felt steady enough tae swing they legs ae his oot ae the bed, he stood up.

  “Bloody woman,” he murmured in self-pity, reaching fur his dressing gown, praying that his early morning erection wid’ve receded enough that she widnae notice it, if he wis tae bump intae her oan the stairs, oan route tae the bathroom.

  Efter reaching the landing, he hesitated, looking doon tae admire whit wis protruding against the brushed polyester and faked silk dressing gown.  The spare bedroom door wis shut o’er.  He wondered whit his chances wur if he sneaked in and chanced his luck.  The last time they’d managed sex hid been oan Christmas Eve, efter she’d made a fool ae hersel at the staff social by flirting wae Cocky Miller, the filthy social worker, efter she’d goat plastered.  She’d claimed that if she wisnae getting any attention and affection fae him, then she’d be as well getting it fae elsewhere.  He’d felt humiliated by her stinging comments…and her supposed tae be a lady?  The YOs thought they hid a hard time being denied the carnal privileges that came wae freedom, bit they’d a lot mair in common wae him than they’d ever realise.  He reluctantly descended the stairs, taking a swift left intae the kitchen.  The stray cat that she’d picked up efter they’d split up, and who’d never really taken tae him, hid its heid hauf in the fridge, chewing loudly oan whit appeared tae be a tail ae a fish.  Efter gieing it a justifiable kick in its arse and slinging it oot intae the howling rain and slamming the fridge door shut, he switched the kettle oan.  It wis then he clocked it.  Sitting in the middle ae the table, leaning upright against the saltshaker, Alison’s wee square writing pad and fountain pen, minus its screw-oan tap, stood silently, mesmerizing him.  He looked back at the kitchen door, ignoring the distressed howls ae the cat, pleading fur a pardon and suddenly wondered why the ootside door hid been left unlocked.  He walked slowly, a terrible foreboding rising in the pit ae his stomach, and plapped that arse ae his doon at the table.  He looked at the pad. There wis something written in that distinct, flowing haun ae hers.  He wis scared tae touch it or tae pick it up, so efter clasping his hauns between his knees, he leaned across and stretched his neck tae see whit she’d written.

  ‘George, met a lovely, caring man, who lives on a kibbutz.  There’s a rainbow trout in the fridge for your supper that Cocky Miller dropped off last night, before you finished your shift. Bye.’

7.00 A.M.

  Senga looked aboot at her fellow passengers, as the bus turned aff ae Castle Street and heided doon the slip road oan tae the M8 in the direction ae Edinburgh.  A couple ae the wummin, sitting two rows in front ae her, wur wearing wee Olivetti badges oan the collars ae their coats and wur deep in chatter, fags sticking oot fae between their lips.  Opposite them, two teenage lassies in school uniforms, their faces made up wae David Bowie androgynous painted Aladdin Sane flashes splashed diagonally across their eyes, wur huddled excitedly o’er a wee radio.  She watched amused, as wan ae them twiddled wae the dial, ignoring the long silver aerial rattling aff the metal parcel rack above their heids, as they smiled expectantly at each other until they’d found whit they’d been looking fur.

  “Hellorerr lads and ladettes.  This is yer wan and only Tigerrr Tim Stevens, bringing ye aw yer favourite tunes oan this dark and damp, dreich Glesga morning fae sunny Radio Clyde, here in the heart ae nowhere very exciting.  Here’s wan that’ll hopefully wake ye up and gie ye the courage tae face another miserable day in the second biggest dump ae the empire,” the DJ squealed in delight, as the acoustic intro tae Shocking Blue’s ‘Venus’ filled the blue smoked-filled interior.

  The wheels oan the bus raced in tandem wae the lights being switched oan, wan efter the other, across in the wards, alang the side ae the building that wis The Royal Infirmary, oot ae the right haun side ae the bus.  Senga smiled tae hersel.  When Jonah’s Lounge, oan the corner ae Springburn Road and Flemington Street, wis mobbed oan a Friday and Saturday night, it could be difficult tae know who aw wis in the place, bit the first record that Johnboy played oan the jukebox when he arrived, hid always been ‘Venus.’  Pearl Campbell hid always believed that he put it oan jist fur her.

  It wis hard tae make oot anything oan the ootside ae the bus wance they’d left the tenement and hoosing scheme street lights behind, due tae it still being dark and the rain lashing against her windae.  Simon Epstein hid offered tae drive her, bit she’d refused.  The offer ae joining her hid also been forthcoming fae the lassies as well. 

  “There’s nae point,” she’d telt them.  “It’s jist aboot whether we kin move forward tae an appeal.  It’ll be far mair productive if youse kin get doon tae The Sheriff Court oan Ingram Street this efternoon.”

  Johnboy hid also urged her tae stay at hame in his last two letters, bit she needed tae be in Edinburgh.  It hid been a difficult and challenging time o’er the past ten months.  He’d changed a lot since the other Mankys hid been set free, or libbed as the boys called it.  He seemed much mair politically aware than before and wis furever quoting fae a book that Tony Gucci hid left him, aboot a squad ae painters and decorators oan a building site at the turn ae the century, in his letters.  He’d jist completed his City and Guilds in Painting and Decorating and hid achieved a score ae distinction, the highest mark…no bad fur somewan who hidnae darkened the door ae a classroom since he wis ten years auld.  He wis waiting tae hear if he’d be allowed tae go forward tae the next level ae studying fur the advanced stage.  It hid taken him a while tae jist relax and accept the fact that whitever they wrote tae each other, wid be scrutinised and censored by somewan, sitting in a room somewhere.  Wance he’d come tae terms wae that, he’d become mair expressive in his letters, though tentatively at first, before biting the bullet and expressing exactly how he felt, and no worrying whether his words wur read or no.  He’d been cautiously excited when she’d telt him that she wis daeing extra training tae become a district nurse.

  “Ye mean, tae be a Green Lady, like big Pat Broon who used tae come roond the hooses dishing oot toffee Virol tae aw us malnourished weans?” he’d scoffed at the visit when she’d telt him.

  “God, Ah never thought aboot that,” she’d confessed, laughing.  “Ah wonder how she’s daeing?”

  He’d also made the right sounds when she’d telt him that she’d soon be applying fur jobs ootwith Glesga, probably oan the West Coast, although she’d detected a slight hesitation in there somewhere.  At first, she thought she’d been imagining things, until a few weeks passed and he’d never asked any questions aboot her job hunting progress in his letters.  When she’d challenged him, he’d admitted tae still feeling withdrawal symptoms tae Glesga…or wis it tae The Mankys, she’d wondered?  She knew there wis still a long road tae go oan that rehabilitation journey he wis travelling oan, particularly when he insisted that he’d dae it oan his lonesome, withoot any help fae somewan like Fanny Flaw.  Senga wisnae daft.  She knew fine well that it wid take time…aye, probably a long time…tae rid Johnboy ae they antisocial demons towards anything that even hinted ae authority. 

He seldom mentioned his ma, Helen.  Senga wisnae sure if he appreciated how truly amazing and inspirational she’d been tae a lot ae people or whither he wis jist in denial.  He’d said tae her at the end ae wan ae their visits, that reading The Ragged Trousered Philanthropist, in some strange way, hid gied him a better understaunin ae where his ma hid been coming fae, particularly in relation tae the world and working people’s place in the great scheme ae things.  She’d wanted tae gently push him oan whit he’d said, bit hid held back.  The fact that he’d brought his ma up oan his ain accord, hid been enough tae show Senga that the emotional barriers wur slowly melting.  Either way, she’d hiv plenty ae time in the future tae encourage and support him tae address some fundamental issues, including the relationship wae his ma, Helen.  Rory Brand, her ex, hid been right and it hid become quite clear early oan that Johnboy hid issues.  He struggled wae hivving tae compromise, he wis over-judgemental aboot things he didnae really understaun and he hid an ingrained hatred ae anything that smacked ae authority.  However, whit Rory hidnae understood or taken intae consideration, wis that when somewan like Johnboy Taylor, who’d been living ootwith the norms ae society fur maist ae his life, made the decision tae change, he hid awready reflected and recognised his flaws and failings early oan in his transition and hid taken steps tae address them.  That wisnae tae say that, deep doon, he believed that he needed tae change…far fae it, bit Johnboy hid recognised that at the end ae the day, it wid be too much tae expect society as a whole tae change, rather than him.  The positive side ae that black and white perspective wis that, wance he’d made up his mind tae heid doon the path that wid eventually turn his life roond, tae fit in wae where she wis coming fae, he’d gone fur it, big style.  Although hard fur her tae explain, it felt like she wis observing and engaging wae somewan who wis peeling aff years ae deid skin, tae expose themsels emotionally, in the raw, which wis a breath-taking experience.  The fact that he recognised this himsel and hid admitted tae her at wan ae their earlier visits, that he sometimes struggled emotionally tae accept that he needed tae become whit he referred tae as ‘Other-people-normal,’ if him and Senga wur tae make a life fur themsels.  He’d laughingly accused her ae being a masochistic taskmaster.  He’d also telt her that he sometimes used the wee priest, Father Leonard, as a sounding board, although he wis also quick tae point oot that he’d be better talking tae himsel in the mirror than tae a wee hunchback priest fae the Bogside in Belfast.  Senga hidnae challenged him oan that wan, because she felt that the wee priest wis playing a blinder.  Aw she felt she could dae, fae a distance, through monthly visits and weekly letters, wis constantly reassure Johnboy that each day that passed wis a day nearer his freedom.  Although he never admitted anything in his letters, she knew when he’d hid a wee wobble.  This usually manifested itsel as a spot ae rebellion against prison staff, which in turn meant retribution fae the prison authorities and him ending up in solitary confinement.  Rather than depress him, he claimed he came back tae his rehabilitation trip refreshed efter a spell in the digger.  It wis a resilience that she saw, no only in Johnboy, bit in aw The Mankys, who seemed tae produce it by the bucketful…the ability tae quickly pick themsels up, dust themsels doon and carry oan where they’d left aff.  It hid taken Senga a lot ae patience tae try tae come tae terms wae the prison system…she still didnae understaun this parallel world that existed, which the majority ae people in society knew absolutely nothing aboot…and why wid they?  It truly wis another world.  Wae regards tae the campaign tae get Johnboy released, the claim and counterclaim fae baith sides ae the divide hid continued unabated oan who hid been ultimately responsible fur the deaths ae poor Rose Bain, Doctor Bernard Walsh and auld Farmer McPherson.  Fur a significant part ae the time, the unwitting, hapless victims ae Glesga’s dark underworld hid become secondary.  It hid been devastating fur Lizzie Mathieson, Senga’s flatmate, tae discover that her original suspicions hid been, in fact, no jist tae dae wae her imagination efter aw.  As time hid gone by, she’d come tae terms wae the situation and, like everywan else, wis awaiting the ootcome ae the investigation by the authorities as tae whether foul play hid indeed been committed as a result ae whit the auld gangster, Haufwit Murray, another sad victim, hid blurted oot, jist before he’d passed away that night up in Stobhill. Fur a lot ae people touched and affected by the tragedy, particularly Rose Bain’s family and hospital colleagues, wan ae the lowest points ae the campaign hid come efter it hid been suggested that Rose Bain hid indeed died as a result ae a run-ae-the-mill hit-and-run crime and no tae dae wae being snuffed oot because it wis believed she knew too much.  The initial stunned disbelief and later outrage that some people jist didnae get it, became a rallying cry fur mair people tae join the campaign oan Johnboy’s side, tae try and get justice and closure fur aw the victims wance and fur aw.  It later became common knowledge through whispers and rumour and then reported in The Glesga Echo, that those oan the other side ae the campaign…elements within the polis…hid put that oot tae create confusion.  Straight fae day wan, the water hid always been muddied.  Unknown tae maist people involved in this sorry, sordid story, another unknown victim sat suffering in silence, wae nowan tae haud that haun ae his.  Jimmy Baxter, still serving nine years fur his supposed involvement in the bank robbery wis also resigned tae waiting fur the ootcome ae Johnboy’s appeal process, before his ain fight fur freedom could begin.  Although Senga or the other lassies hidnae met him, Johnboy hid telt her that he wis a genuinely fine guy.  At the heart ae aw this underhanded, dirty tricks campaign, Johnboy hid unwittingly become a bit ae an invisible cause celebre in the media.  Who wis he?  Whit did he look like? Where could the press get a photo ae him?  He’d also convinced her, right fae the start, no tae become the face ae the campaign, so as tae maintain anonymity fur the baith ae them fur when he’d win his freedom and they could go and live somewhere withoot people knowing who they wur.  This hid made sense, although at the time, she hidnae appreciated it.  It wis only efter her ward sister boss, Jill Shand, won her appeal fur unfair dismissal, efter it wis proved that she’d been sacked oan a false pretext and the real reason hid been due tae her leadership ae the Stop the Violence Against Wummin campaign, that Senga realised she hid tae keep her profile low if her and Johnboy hid any chance ae a future thegither.  Even though Jill hid eventually won her case, she’d become a broken wummin and hid left nursing tae go and look efter her elderly mother.  Hivving said that, keeping a low profile wis easier said than done.  Senga and Michelle Hope hid become the best ae pals.  Senga hid persuaded Michelle tae take that leadership role oan, knowing full well that it wid destroy her relationship wae her family.  Senga hid cried fur days in frustration, hurt and guilt, before confessing tae Michelle why she couldnae take oan that mantle.  The continuing opposition, via The Sheriff Court, in the guise ae aw the lassies’ favourite hate figure, Glenda Metcalfe, the procurator fiscal, tae stoap the notebook being haunded o’er tae The Defence and the continuing smearing and counter smearing between The Crown and the campaigners, meant Michelle’s life hid gone under the microscope.  Everywan now knew that Johnboy hid be
dded Michelle oan her eighteenth birthday.  Senga’s ma hid also questioned her aboot why she continued tae fight fur somewan like Johnboy, despite his obvious betrayal.  There hid been times when even she hidnae been sure who and whit tae believe.  If hauf the stuff wis even remotely true aboot whit The Mankys hid supposedly goat up tae o’er the years, then she didnae think that her and Johnboy hid a future.  How could they?  Tae some, Johnboy wis jist an evil, wicked Ned, who’d murdered the innocent and pillaged hauf the shoaps and hooses across the city since he wis a wean, while tae others, he wis the victim ae a rotten judicial system that hid sat back and knowingly allowed an innocent man…boy…tae go tae jail fur a crime he never committed.  The campaign hid a few successes, bit maistly it hid been setback efter setback.  The authorities, or The Crown, hid refused point blank tae concede an inch.  No matter whit hid been thrown at them, they admitted nothing and always came back demanding that everything should be left tae the due legal process, withoot interference fae the gullible, like Michelle Hope and Johnboy’s supporters, who included some MPs and a host ae celebrity customers that Kim Sui and Jake hid encouraged tae get involved.  Graham Portoy hid been fantastic and hid spent a good bit ae time wae the lassies, explaining the law, the complexities ae the procedure and pointing oot who the key players wur that needed turning.  He’d also taken the time tae explain that the whole ae the criminal and judicial system, particularly in Glesga, wis at war wae itsel, due tae the endemic corruption across the board, fae the lowly, local pavement pounders oan the beat, tae the brass at the tap ae the Christmas tree.  Everywan wis protecting the level above and below them because they knew that if wan brick came loose, then the whole building might come doon aboot their ears.  That wis why it wis so important tae protect The Stalker…at any expense.  Oan the judicial side, the legal fraternity, The Crown, wur equally culpable, fur allowing the apple tae become rotten in the first place due tae the constant pressures and demands o’er the years tae keep the politicians happy at any costs, by keeping the jails full, insteid ae staunin up fur the rights ae the weak and vulnerable.  Some ae the stuff that Graham hid been coming oot wae, wis difficult fur poor Michelle tae take in, bit she’d assured Graham that she knew he wisnae hivving a go at her personally because ae her da’s job.  Oan a mair positive note, The Mankys themsels hid stayed well away, in the background, although their presence wis always felt, particularly when there wis a need fur a financial injection.  Withoot that support, the campaign wid’ve collapsed long ago.  According tae Johnboy, that wis why the jails wur full ae innocent people.  Nowan hid access tae the resources that his campaigners hid tae challenge the status quo that wis the Scottish judicial system.  Also, oan a positive note, particularly as far as, Kim Sui, Paula Baker and Francis Smith wur concerned, none ae The Mankys hid ended up back in the jail since their release fae Dumfries eleven months previously.  Fae whit she could gather, maist ae them hid started gaun straight and wur noo beavering away, establishing themsels as successful businessmen.  Paula hid moved intae wan ae Tony’s flats roond the corner fae Senga’s wae Pat.  The last time she’d spoken tae Paula, Pat still hidnae managed tae convince Papa Fraser tae sell him a stake in his jewellery shoap doon in West Nile Street.  Francis wis also jist up the road wae Snappy, still trying tae pin him doon tae a wedding date.  The good news wis that Jean Maguire and Peter Paterson wur gaun tae hiv a baby.  The doon side wis that Peter hid been charged wae resetting a quarter ae a million Benson & Hedges fags, efter being hauled oot ae his bed in the middle ae the night by The Serious Crime Squad.  He wis currently oot oan bail.  Oan tap ae that, him and Ben McCalumn hid been attending interviews in the presence ae Graham Portoy doon at Central in relation tae a string ae post offices being robbed at gunpoint before and efter Peter’s arrest fur the fags. Poor Jean hid been in a terrible state the last time Senga hid been roond tae see her.  Peter wis there and hid been full ae charm.  If he wis bothered aboot being charged wae resetting the proceeds ae a hijacked goods train and accused ae robbing post offices, he hidnae shown it.  Silent Smith wis due tae be released soon and everywan hid been pleasantly surprised tae learn that he wis moving in wae Helen and Aggie, who still faithfully trooped oot tae Saughton Prison in Edinburgh every month tae visit him.  Baith Helen and Aggie hid moved in tae wan ae Tony and Donna The Prima Donna’s, beautiful auld flats across in The West End, no far fae Barrington Avenue.  Senga hid heard talk aboot Silent opening up a fancy hair salon in the toon centre, bit when she’d mentioned it tae Helen and Aggie, they’d said that that wis the first they’d heard ae it.  Johnboy hid then gone aff in the huff wae her at wan ae their visits and threatened tae tell her nothing ever again, efter he found oot that she’d spoken tae Helen and Aggie aboot it.  Efter the success ae Kim Sui’s catwalk fashion show in The Edward Hotel in Buchanan Street, plans wur afoot tae hiv a Scottish Fashion Week, wae Kim Sui’s twin sister, Bo, awready hivving goat a commitment fae aw the tap models in Paris and Milan that they’d pencilled it in tae their diaries fur sometime in 1978.  This wis despite the sad disappearance ae that cousin ae hers, Wee Pie, who everywan feared the worse fur, efter he jist seemed tae vanish intae thin air at the start ae the Year ae the Dragon, during the Chinese New Year, back in January.  Everywan knew Wee Pie could be a bit ae a fly-man, so everywan, including The Mankys, who’d settled their earlier differences wae him, hid put oot the word tae try and find oot whit hid become ae him.  It wis aw pretty sad.  Kim Sui hid said that the family lit incense sticks seven times a day fur his safe return.  She’d also said that Tony hid been brilliant during this period and hid supported no only her, bit the whole family, through that dark period.  Senga hid spoken tae Graham Portoy the day before.  He’d informed her no tae expect too much.  The best they could hope fur wis that Stuart McKenzie, Johnboy’s QC, wid somehow manage tae get The Appeal Court in Edinburgh tae delay the decision in the morning, which wid allow Johnboy tae proceed tae an appeal at a later date.  If they could get the delay, and the go-aheid fae Sheriff Burns in the efternoon tae gain official access tae The Stalkers wee pocket notepad, it wid mean they’d, at last, thwarted The Crown’s fly move ae pushing fur the decision in Glesga tae
take place efter the law lords hid met in the morning, thus denying Johnboy’s defence team the use ae the notebook as evidence.
Glenda Metcalfe hid ran rings roond Graham Portoy fur maist ae the campaign, by using every dirty trick in the book tae defeat him and his man, Swansea, The Thompson Twin.  At wan stage, Graham hid offered the campaign team his resignation.  Every grudging move forward, hid always gone straight tae the wire and noo there wis a chance that her and Johnboy’s future thegither, wis aboot tae take a step closer tae reality.  Graham hid warned her that if The Crown’s case in Edinburgh went against them, it wid probably take years fur Johnboy’s case tae be heard again, as The Crown wid continue tae pull oot aw the stoaps tae prevent an appeal or retrial fae happening.  It aw seemed pretty depressing, bit she needed tae be present at the centre ae the judicial process when they ruled either way.  While there hid been few successes thus far, she wis convinced that true justice wid prevail, probably a bit battered and chipped aroond the edges, bit still intact.  Love him or hate him, Johnboy Taylor, the cheeky wee boy wae the freckled smiling face, clutching a box ae Maltesers in his haun, who’d braved the ridicule ae his classmates tae publicly gie her a birthday card and a present, wis daeing hard time fur a crime he never committed and she wis determined tae be there oan the day when he wis able tae walk through the prison gates, a free and rehabilitated man.