Parly Road: The Glasgow Chronicles 1 (48 page)

  “Ah’ve goat two Chequered hens, a Broon Dun hen and a Silver Storie doo Ah want rid ae.”

  “Gie’s a look.  Oh aye, nice tae.  Ah’ll take them aff ye fur hauf a croon fur the lot. How’s that?”

  “Aye, Ah’m daft, bit no stupid.”

  “So, whit ur ye efter? Ur ye putting dosh in wae whit ye’re wanting?”

  “Ah fancied that wee faded Yellow hen oan the tap left, the Blue Barr hen and that ugly wee Ash Tipped Spanish doo, doon oan the bottom right. Whit dae ye think?”

  “Hmm, aye, okay, Ah’ll dae that fur these four.”

  “Nice wan, Paddy. Cheers!”

10.35 A.M.

  “Wis he there?” asked Mick.

  “Naw, his wee maw said he’s heided doon tae Paddy’s wae a box full ae doos.” Danny said, getting intae the Jag.

  “Ye’re kidding!”

  “Ah telt youse he’d be involved, bit ye widnae listen.”

  “Ah still cannae see it.”

  “Why?  Because he’s daft? Ah’ve telt ye…Ah still don’t think he’s as stupid as he makes oot.”

  “Ah hope we catch the sticky-fingered prick red-haunded, haunin o’er oor good doos.”

  “Right, well, we will if ye put this car intae gear and get tae hell oot ae here.”

10.45 A.M.

  “We’re noo the proud owners ae the Parly Road cabin…until it gets demolished, that is,” Tony announced, taking a slug oot ae the bottle ae Irn Bru before passing it tae Joe.

  “And it didnae cost us a penny. Ah don’t think Ah’ve ever owned anything in ma life, apart fae ma fancy snow-drapped five-o-wans that ur clinging tae that manky arse ae mine,” Johnboy said, taking the bottle fae Joe.

  “And Ah’m the main doo man aboot here. Ah’ll teach youse everything Ah know. Tae hell wae school…Ah’ve awready learned ma trade,” Skull announced, taking a skoof fae the bottle, as they aw nodded their heids in agreement.

  “Aye, let they builders try and demolish us. They’ll get the same dose as whit the last bampots who crossed us goat, and mair. We’re no gonnae take any shite fae anywan, fae noo oan,” Joe announced cheerfully.

  “So, whit’s the plans fur the day?”

  “Well, we’re gonnae hiv tae tan that roof up at the cemetery this week, noo that we’ve telt Shaun that’s how we’re gonnae get oor money tae buy mair doos,” Tony said, tapping his pocket and smiling.

  “Ah say we heid up tae check oot the roof and then heid doon tae Paddy’s tae check oot whit he’s goat in stock,” Skull suggested.

  “Brilliant. Ah’ve never been in a doo shoap before,” Johnboy replied eagerly.

  “Right, let’s go. We’ll see if we kin pick up a bottle ae Irn Bru and some cake snowbaws oan the way,” Tony said.

10.55 A.M.

  “Hellorerr Paddy,” Shaun announced, as the place went quiet and some doo men slinked oot ae the side door.

  “Aye, aye, Shaun. It’s no often Ah see youse boys doon here. Whit kin Ah dae ye oot ae?”

  “We’re looking fur a few wee doos that hiv taken flight and wondered if they might’ve taken up residence doon here amongst the scabby hawkers.”

  “Shaun, Ah’ll try tae be civil tae ye if ye promise tae try and be civil back tae me in ma wee shoap here, particularly in front ae ma loyal customers.”

  “Paddy, whitever ye say in the next few minutes is gonnae determine whether Ah burn this dump doon, wae you and aw yer doos in it, in front ae aw yer loyal customers, or whether we continue tae tolerate yer existence doon here in the sunny Saltmarket.”

  “Whit ur ye efter?”

  “Wis there any fly man, big or wee, fat or thin, young or auld, fae the Toonheid in here the day, palming aff any doos?”

  “Flypast wis.”

  “Where ur they?”

  “Ah’ve sold them.”

  “Tae who?”

  “Ah don’t know. Sunday’s ma busiest day.”

  “Whit did he come in wae?”

  “A Broon Dun hen, a Silver Storie doo and two Chequered hens.”

  “Dae they sound familiar, Danny?”

  Danny gied a wee affirmative nod, bit said nothing.

  “See? That wisnae so bad, wis it, Paddy? Let’s go!”

11.15 A.M.

  “Flypast! Open the fucking door!”

  “Oh, er, hellorerr boys. In ye come. Dae ye want a wee cup ae tea? Ah’ve jist put the kettle oan that wee stove ae mine.”

  “Ah hear ye wur doon at Paddy’s the day, palming aff some doos,” Shaun asked Flypast, his eyes slitted.

  “Aye, that’s right. Ah inherited a few wee doos that didnae come wae any background, so Ah thought Ah’d pass them oan. Ye never know whit the score is nooadays and Ah widnae want tae upset anywan…if ye know whit Ah mean?” Flypast said, gulping,
shaking like a leaf as the sweat poured aff ae his face.

  “So, whit did ye inherit then?”

  “A Silver Storie doo, a Broon Dun hen and two Chequered hens.”

  “Fae who?”

  “Crisscross and that big sergeant ae his.”

  “Whit did ye jist say?” Shaun and Danny baith demanded at the same time, visibly shaken and stunned.

  “Ah goat them fae Crisscross and that big sergeant wan…whit’s his name? It wis payment fur wrecking ma cabin earlier in the summer. Ur ye sure youse don’t want a wee cup ae tea?”

  “Fuck!”

  “Is there something wrang?”

  “Ur you sure it wis them, Flypast?”

  “Oh aye, they said they’d suddenly inherited a big batch and they wanted tae square me up fur aw the damage they’d done.”

  “Flypast, Ah want ye tae dae something. It’s very, very important noo. Yer life depends oan this.”

  “Anything, Shaun.” Flypast croaked, shaking like a jakey in need ae a tap-up.

  “Ye tell nae fucker whit ye jist telt us. Hiv ye goat that?”

  “Oh, er, aye, of course. Ma lips ur sealed.”

  “Well, make sure they stay that way. Right, Danny, let’s go!”

4.30 P.M.

  “Ye better make it quick, Skull. Ah shut up shoap at five o’clock.”

  “Aye, awright, Paddy,” Skull said, walking across tae the nesting boxes.

  Johnboy and Skull spent the next hauf an hour looking at aw the different doos, hens and everything tae dae wae them. Tony and Joe couldnae be arsed gaun wae them and hid said they wur heiding hame as baith ae them wur starting at The Big Rock up in Royston in the morning.

Efter leaving the doo shoap, Johnboy and Skull wandered alang The Trongate intae Argyle Street and the toon centre proper, daeing a wee recce ae possible shoaps that wid be worthwhile tanning wance they wur back at school.  They sat doon oan a bench in George Square fur a couple ae hours, where Skull explained tae Johnboy the difference between the scabby hawker doos, that wur wandering aboot the square looking fur scraps fae people walking past, and the breeds they hoped tae flee oot ae the cabin.  He telt Johnboy everything there wis tae know aboot fleeing the doos.  Johnboy then spent haulf an hour helping Skull pick up the biggest ae the fag-ends that people hid flung away, before they wandered up the road towards Montrose Street.

  “Dae ye remember when we wur tanning in the windaes ae the school at the start ae the holidays and Calum The Runner appeared oan the scene?”

  “Aye?”

  “And Tony asked me if Ah’d done anything tae upset they Murphy pricks when Calum said that they’d wanted tae speak tae us as well as The Big Man?”

  “Aye, ye denied it, as far as Ah kin remember.  Ye said something aboot slinging a cat intae their cabin.”

  “Aye, well Ah wisnae exactly telling the truth.”

  Johnboy couldnae stoap laughing as Skull telt him how Tony, Joe, Paul and Skull hid used aw sorts ae tricks tae get people tae put their good doos or hens oot so they could capture them.  A few weeks before Skull hid arrived at Johnboy’s school efter getting expelled fae the Baby Rock, Flypast hid showed Skull how tae dye a scabby hawker wae peroxide tae turn it a nice shade ae white.  Rather than let their good work go tae waste, Skull hid let it loose as a Trojan horse up by the cabin when the Murphy’s owned it.  Fae a distance, it looked like a right wee stoater.  Danny, the so-called expert doo man, hid shot his bolt and hid quickly put oot a big strapping Horseman Pouter, thinking it wis a nice wee hen oan the go.  Wance the big basturt wis up in the air, Flypast hid then slipped oot wan ae his best wee feathered seductresses fae under his jaicket at the front ae wan ae the closemooths oan Parly Road, jist across fae the billboards.  Flypast hid flung it up in the air before dashing through the closemooth
and back tae his cabin in Montrose Street.  By the time Flypast and Skull hid goat back tae his cabin, the wee hen wis staunin there oan the landing board, getting shagged stupid by the big Horseman who didnae even blink when Flypast yanked up the hood and captured it.  Skull said that Flypast hid goat fourteen bob doon at Paddy’s, which wis a record price fur a traded-in doo, up tae that time.

  “They’d hiv kicked ma arse silly, bit Flypast wid’ve been dug meat…nae question aboot it…if they Murphy’s hid found oot whit we’d done,” Skull hid said, as they baith laughed.

  Skull hid also telt him that Jessie wis the same age as him and Johnboy.  He said that Tony hid attempted tae buy Jessie a few times aff ae Horsey John, using Flypast as the front man, bit she wisnae fur sale.  They’d sat and pished themsels laughing as Skull telt him aboot the time Jessie hid goat lifted by the polis at two o’clock wan morning efter being discovered up in Martyr Street wae hauf the copper sheets fae the roof ae St Mungo’s oan the back ae the cart she wis pulling.  Horsey John and Tiny hid denied any knowledge that she belonged tae them and hid tae bid fur her at a public auction tae get her back.  They’d been raging at Flypast because him, Tony, Skull, Joe and Paul hid turned up at the auction and Flypast hid started bidding against them.  Horsey and Tiny won her oan the next bid efter the boys ran oot ae money.  It hid cost the stable an extra twelve quid oan whit they’d expected tae get her fur.  The next day, Mick Murphy hid turned up at Flypast’s and telt him they wid rather put Jessie doon than see him getting her.  Flypast hid goat the message.

  “So, whit dae ye think aboot gaun back tae school the morra then?” Johnboy asked, remembering Skull’s announcement earlier oan, aboot no gaun back tae school.

  By this time, they wur sitting at the bottom ae Johnboy’s closemooth, chewing the cud.

“Ach, Ah’m nae really bothered…Ah quite like it. Ma sister says she hates
being surrounded by aw they Proddys, bit she’ll live. That skinny teacher is something else though,” Skull replied, lighting up wan ae his fag-ends. “John Player?  They’re bloody shite, so they ur,” he said, checking oot the brand.

  “Olive? Ma ma wance telt me that she’s wan ae the auld school and that aw us toe-rags should respect her fur sacrificing everything fur us wee smellies.  Ma said that she’s somewan who’ll never get married because she’s awready married tae her job.”

  “Jist like aw they priests?”

  “She said that maist ae the wummin teachers wur aw spinsters, through choice, when she wis at school, in the aulden days.  She prattled oan aboot Olive being a dying breed and how we should aw appreciate her while we’ve goat her because when she’s gone, she’ll be gone furever.”

  “Aye, well, she’s no
the worst, believe you me, Johnboy.  Ye should’ve met some ae the psychos Ah’ve come across in ma travels.  Bloody worse than the priests, so they wur.”

  “Aye, she disnae know whit time ae the day it is, bit Ah think she actually likes us. Ye kin tell by the way she kids oan that she disnae know we aw sleep wae oor eyes open.  Kin ye imagine being taught by somewan who insisted that ye paid attention tae them?”

  “Anyway, Ah’ll need tae shoot the craw, Johnboy,” Skull said, flicking his tab-end away and staunin up.

  “Dae ye want tae come up fur a wee while?”

  “Naw.”

  “Ur ye sure?  There probably won’t be much, bit there’ll be food oan the go?”

  “Aye, Ah need tae get up the road in plenty ae time before that auld man ae mine locks me oot.”

  “Aye, Ah suppose. Efter ma tea, it’s the bone comb fur me. Ah kin feel ma heid hoaching wae they wee creepy crawling buggers awready. They must know whit’s waiting fur them. See ye in school the morra, Skull.”

7.40 P.M.

  “Aye, aye, Skull. Whit ur ye daeing away doon here?” asked Flypast, as he turned intae Grafton Street

  “Ah wis wae Johnboy. Whit ur ye up tae?”

  “Ah wis roond at Sherbet’s getting a couple ae tipped singles fur ma maw.”

  “So, how wis the do last night then?”

  “It wis aw right. The group wur good and it gied me an iron-clad alibi. They Murphys wur roond this morning.  Fucking jumping they wur…the arseholes. So, how did it go wae youse?”

  “Fine. Me and Johnboy wur jist doon at Paddy’s checking oot his stock earlier. We’ll probably get something aff ae him next weekend.”

  “Aye, Ah wis doon there masel, this morning. That skelly hauf-wit Crisscross and that sergeant wan came roond wae four doos tae gie me fur destroying ma cabin earlier in the summer.”