Dumfries (29 page)

  “
Good evening.  My name is John Turney and these are the news headlines in Scotland tonight. 

  Glasgow Police have formed a special task group to investigate the unexplained disappearance of a number of the city’s leading underworld figures over the past two years.  It’s thought that the task group will include forensic pathologists and missing person experts from The City of London Missing Persons Unit.  Jack Tipple, Glasgow’s Assistant Chief Constable, refused to be drawn on naming those missing or being investigated, but did emphasise that the remit of the task group had still to be established and that it would be a number of weeks before those involved in the group would be in a position to ascertain whether there were suspicious circumstances surrounding the disappearances of certain individuals and whether there was a need to explore further what had become of them.  We can exclusively reveal that some of the names being investigated are Shaun Murphy, Derek ‘Deck’ McGuiness, Robert ‘Bootsy’ Bell, William ‘Blaster’ Mackay and several others.  Sources close to Glasgow Police have stated that they believe that two particular groups of gangsters in the city are responsible for the disappearances and that more names may be added to the list…

A newly wed bride and her groom exited from the city’s Martha Street registry office today to find their wedding car had been stolen.  A tearful, but visibly pregnant Jessica Brown, nee Galbraith, daughter of conservative MP for Bearsden, Timothy Jenkins Galbraith, was in tears when she found out that her newly wed husband, successful businessman Alastair Brown, had put their passports, flight tickets and honeymoon spending money in the boot of their wedding car for safe keeping. It then took an anguished and tearful Mr Brown, who is a private security consultant, a further twenty minutes to flag down a taxi on George Street, whilst being pursued by a pack of journalists, to try and track down his new bride after she’d locked the doors of her parents’ car from the inside and driven off to an unknown destination, leaving her parents and new in-laws stranded on the pavement…

  A charity supporting the homeless that claimed that Glasgow Corporation’s tenants are living in slums worse than those experienced by tenants in the city in the 1920s and 1930s was challenged today by labour Cllr George Sheridan, chair of the housing committee. Councillor Sheridan pointed to all the slum clearances over the past ten years that had allowed people for the first time ever, to have inside toilets and bathrooms in their homes…

  Police have admitted that they are concerned for the safety of pretty seventeen-year-old Isobel Hutchison, who hasn’t been seen since leaving her work on Monday evening at 5pm.  The girl, who worked in Bigforests on Argyle Street, was last seen entering the back passenger seat of a dark blue or grey Ford Cortina in Glassford Street, which headed towards Stockwell Street in the direction of the Victoria Bridge.  Miss Hutchison lives with her parents in Rannoch Avenue, the opposite side of the city from where the car she was in was last seen heading. Anyone with any information is asked to contact…”

Chapter Twenty Seven

  It hid been ten months since Johnboy hid arrived in Dumfries and he wis sitting aw packed, ready tae make a move. O’er the months, he’d managed tae get himsel in tae a wee routine.  It wis the only way guys like him wur able tae keep their heids above the water-line.  First thing in the morning he wis up daeing a wee keep-fit regime that he doubled or sometimes trebled last thing at night before they put the lights oot.  If he hid time, he managed a bit ae reading.  Efter the lights wur oot, he’d listen tae the John Peel show fur a while before sleeping and starting the same routine o’er again the next morning.  It never ceased tae amaze him how Silent survived and managed his time, other than tae pull that plonker ae his. Although Simon hid arranged fur a decent tranny tae be sent in tae Silent, writing and reminding him that he’d need tae be sure tae put a PP9 battery in tae it, it wis still sitting beside Silent’s bed, minus the battery.  He never read books or magazines either, bit always came across as reasonably comfortable wae his surroundings. The majority ae the YOs in Dumfries spent their time wishing their lives away, dreaming aboot the day that they’d walk through the gatehoose, oot in tae the ootstretched erms ae Freedom Street.  The exceptions tae this wur the boys daeing life or HMP…and Johnboy.  Fur them and him, liberation wis too far in the future tae even contemplate gaun there. He’d another quick wee peek under his bed tae make sure he hidnae missed anything.  He slid the letter oot ae his shirt pocket and lifted it up tae his nose and gied it a wee sniff.  It wis amazing, he thought, that he could still smell the perfume fae the Dear John letter he’d received fae Senga up in Longriggend, jist efter being sentenced.  He didnae need tae read the contents.  He could probably recite whit she’d written backwards.  He’d take the letter oot ae his Golden Wonder crisp storage box every noo and again jist tae hiv a wee sniff ae it, tae touch base wae a past reality, that wis noo gone furever.  Although he never appreciated it at the time, Senga Jackson really hid meant something tae him before everything hid come crashing doon aboot they ears ae his.  Even though he’d never acknowledged it, he wis still grateful that she’d taken the time tae write and say how sorry she wis wae his situation before informing him that, noo she wis a full-time, busy nurse, she wis moving oan wae her life and that she didnae hiv the time or the inclination tae keep up a friendship via letters.  It hid been the word ‘friendship’ that hid penetrated his heart like a hot knife searing through butter.  It hid probably been at that precise moment in time that the reality ae his sentence and the predicament that he wis in, hid finally penetrated that thick skull ae his.  He wondered where the expression Dear John originally came fae.  At least his Dear John letter hid goat his name right.  He’d known quite a few Charlie’s, Tam’s and Derek’s who’d been oan the receiving end ae a Dear John since they’d started their sentences.  He smiled, thinking aboot The Mankys.  Tae noise him up, they’d goat everywan in Dumfries tae refer tae Dear Johns as Dear Johnboys in his honour.  In wan sense, he’d been grateful that Senga hid taken the initiative, as it wid’ve probably embarrassed her if she’d sent him letters and he’d no replied.  When he’d been in the untried hall in Barlinnie, he’d sent her a letter asking her no tae write or come up tae visit him.  Something deep doon inside ae him hid subconsciously been warning him tae cut aff the ties in his life in anticipation ae being found guilty.  Despite the reassurances fae Tony, Johnboy hid known fine well that Wan-bob Broon widnae come up wae the goods.  Why wid he?  Tony, oan behauf ae The Mankys, hid always made it clear tae Pat Molloy, Wan-bob and Charlie Hastie that they didnae want tae be seen tae be dependent or seen tae be associating themsels too closely wae The Big Man’s crowd, so it seemed a bit petty tae get upset when the help they’d requested wis eventually ignored at the last possible moment, even when the damage being inflicted wis so severe.  The fact that the help being sought wid’ve meant The Big Man hivving tae compromise and expose a part ae his shady business dealings, should’ve been clear tae Tony. Tony hid admitted as much tae Johnboy and Silent in the untried hall up in Barlinnie, that that expectation wid’ve been a step too far.  Oan the positive side, it wid mean he widnae be in a position tae hurt or embarrass Senga any mair than he hid in the past.  The other Mankys, who regularly received letters fae the lassies ootside, wur always telling him tae write tae her.  Even though he’d heard that she didnae really hing aboot wae the Springburn lassies any mair, he’d picked up wee snippets ae whit she wis up tae fae the boys when the lassies wid be telling them whit they wur getting up tae at the weekends in their letters or when Simon gied them a lift doon tae visit them while he wis filling Tony in oan whit wis happening ootside.  Sometimes they’d ask wan ae the other Mankys tae tell him that Senga wis asking efter him if they’d bumped intae her in the toon centre and that she’d be pleased tae hear fae him.  Her and another nurse lived no far fae Simon’s Carpet Capers.  Tony hid telt him that Simon hid bumped intae her and some aulder posh guy a few times recently when he’d been oot gallivanting in the toon centre oan a Friday or Saturday night.  It hidnae taken Tony long tae also admit tae him that Simon hid also clocked Mr Posh coming oot ae her flat oan Barrington Drive at seven o’clock in the morning looking well shagged-oot.

  “Is that whit Simon said?”

  “Whit?”

  “That he looked well shagged-oot?”

  “Well, no in they exact words.”

  “So, whit did he say then?”

  “Ah thought ye wurnae bothered aboot her noo?”

  “Ah’m no.”

  “Okay…he said that he looked like the cat that hid goat the cream.”

  “Fuck’s sake, if Ah’d been in Senga Jackson’s bed aw night, Ah wid’ve been looking as if Ah’d goat the cat’s cream as well,” Johnboy hid said laughing, putting oan a brave face.

  He knew the lassies wur only saying that Johnboy should drap Senga a line tae be nice.  Senga Jackson, whether the lassies knew or accepted it, hid moved oan tae pastures new in her life and why no?  Maybe if he’d been daeing three or maybe even five years, bit fourteen years?  Christ, that wis a lifetime and mair.  Senga wid be well married wae weans ae her ain by the time he saw the light ae day.  Naw, Johnboy hid made up his mind early oan in his sentence that whitever happened tae him in the future, it wisnae gonnae involve writing tae people who hid mair tae be getting oan wae in their lives than tae be bothering aboot somewan like him.  His life wis well and truly goosed, at least, fur the time being, until Tony goat oot and managed tae sort something oot.  He wid’ve been awright if Tony, Snappy and Pat hidnae been oan remand fur three months at the same time as him and Silent.  Tae convince somewan like Pat Molloy or Wan-bob Broon tae lower their guard, ye needed tae see the whites ae their eyes.  He sniffed the letter again before slipping it back intae his shirt pocket.  He couldnae be bothered getting up aff ae that arse ae his tae go and put it back in tae the crisp box.  He looked across at the door.  He widnae hiv classed two cardboard crisp boxes wae aw his worldly possessions and an Ecko Ranger acoustic guitar sitting by the door as excessive, bit it hidnae stoapped The Tormentor fae passing comment ten minutes earlier.

  “Ye’re no taking aw that wae ye, ur ye?  Whit dae ye need aw that shite fur?”

  He’d nearly gotten Johnboy tae bite back wae his wind-up tactics, bit Johnboy hid held himsel in check and ignored the prick.  The fact that The Tormentor hidnae pushed fur a reply hid jist confirmed tae Johnboy whit wis gaun oan.  It hid taken Johnboy seven months tae reach the tap flair landing ae B-Hall and another three months ae patiently waiting until his turn came roond and a cell became vacant in C-Hall.  The snidey comment fae The Tormentor wis a last gasp attempt tae try and get a negative response so the basturt could scupper the move.  Chic Young, a lifer who’d run aboot wae the Cranhill Fleet, wis noo back oan the bottom landing.  He’d been the next in line, in front ae Johnboy tae move oot, bit two weeks earlier he’d hid a run-in wae The Tormentor, the same basturt that wis noo trying tae noise Johnboy up.  Chic wis noo at the back ae the queue and wid hiv tae wait months before he wis back up tae the tap landing, before he goat shifted oot ae B-Hall.  Usually in the jail, wan cell wis the same as another, no matter where ye bunked, bit in Dumfries, the screws liked tae control everything and everywan.  In Dumfries, YOs wur let oot ae their cells at night between 6.30 and 9 o’clock fur recreation, which took place in a long low-ceilinged building at the end ae B Hall.  In the rec hall, there wis a snooker table, jist slightly tae the right as ye went through the glass-panelled doors, and a table tennis table set up oan the immediate left.  Opposite the entrance, there wis a wee glass-partitioned room that hid a record player in it that the YOs could go and play their LPs oan that they’d goat sent in fae the ootside.  The room helped contain the racket ae Rory Gallagher or Ziggy Stardust being belted oot, while the glass enabled the screws tae keep an eye oan whit wis gaun oan.  Beyond the table tennis table, an open plan TV room wis aff tae the left and consisted ae rows ae chairs and a TV stuck up oan a shelf oan the wall, facing everywan. Tae change a channel, the YOs hid tae ask a screw tae dae the honours.  Every time somewan wanted tae watch something else, World War Three wid threaten tae break oot as everywan argued o’er the merits ae the choice ae whit wis being shown oan the other side.  The only time there wisnae an argument wis a Thursday night when Top ae The Pops wis oan or a repeat ae The Benny Hill Show wis oan the go.  A couple ae weeks earlier, The Tormentor hid goat so fed up ae waiting fur people tae make up their minds that he’d stomped aff in a huff and hid telt everywan that they wid jist hiv tae watch whit wis awready oan the screen.  John Bailey, a wee Cumbie boy fae the Gorbals, hid picked up his chair fae the back ae the room where he’d been sitting and casually walked doon tae the front wae it.  Using the chair as a stool, he’d reached up and unplugged the telly, before lifting the thing aff ae the shelf and hurled it at the windaes.  He wis only a skinny wee basturt, bit the weight ae the telly hid totally demolished the whole ae the windae frame alang wae the glass.  Fae where Johnboy wis sitting, he could feel a nice cool breeze wafting through the exposed steel bars behind where the glass hid been.

  “Aw, fucking nice wan, Chic, ya selfish prick, ye.  Ah wis watching that, so Ah wis,” Chas Dunn, another Cumbie boy, hid moaned, as chaos erupted aroond aboot Johnboy and the other Mankys.

  The Tormentor, who’d caused aw the commotion in the first place, hid made a bee-line in the direction ae the table tennis table tae put a bit ae distance between himsel and the riled YOs, bit hid been tripped up by Tony and punched oan the side ae the heid by Snappy as he wis hurtling towards the deck.  Within aboot twenty seconds, there must’ve been aboot forty screws, hiding behind shields, batons drawn, shouting at everywan tae get up aff ae their arses and back tae their cells.  The alarm bells hid still been ringing fur aboot two hours efter everywan hid been locked up.  Chic hid been hit wae twenty eight days in the digger and wis due oot in a couple ae weeks.  He wis another wan that wid be ending up back oan the bottom landing ae B-Hall.  The screws wur still trying tae find oot who it wis that hid thrown the punch that hid gied The Tormentor wan ae the worse black-eyes Johnboy hid ever clocked in his life.

  The attraction ae getting oot ae B-Hall wis that wance ye wur in C or D-Hall, ye goat oot tae rec oan a Saturday and Sunday night.  B-Hall hid three tiers ae cells, consisting ae eighteen cells oan each landing.  If a YO wis released or eventually transferred up tae the adult jails oot ae C or D-Hall, when they turned twenty wan, it triggered movement.  It didnae really matter tae anywan unless ye wur in B-Hall.  In B-Hall, yer turn tae move started aff oan the ground flair.  Wance thirteen vacancies occurred fae those who’d entered Dumfries before ye, ye moved up tae the second flair ae B-Hall and so forth. There wur only thirteen available cells oan the ground flair ae B-Hall due tae the fact that the stoat-the-baws bunked there permanently fur safety and security reasons. Wance ye counted doon fae thirteen tae zero, ye wur moved up tae the second landing tae start at the back ae the queue at eighteen before moving oan doon tae zero and another move up tae the third landing.  Snappy hid been keeping an eye oan Johnboy’s movements and wis always quick tae point oot tae Johnboy that C-Hall wisnae whit it wis cracked up tae be, bit then again, if the moon wis made ae trifle, Snappy wid’ve said that it tasted shite.  C-Hall hid been built oan tae the original red sandstone main building sometime in the late sixties.  There wur four landings, each containing twelve cells.  The design wis alang the same lines ae the halls in Polmont Borstal and Longriggend, which meant there wur big windaes, letting plenty ae light in, insteid ae the dark dungeon-type cells like the wan Johnboy wis noo lying in, patiently waiting fur The Tormentor tae come and get him and his crisp boxes.  Two cells hid become vacant that morning.  If he wis lucky, he’d get the wan oan the tap flair which meant he’d get a good view ae the surrounding hooses and area.  The other empty cell wis oan the first flair and looked oan tae the wall surrounding the halls.  Silent and Tony wur oan the tap flair while Snappy wis oan the third and Pat doon oan the first.  Johnboy smiled.  Snappy’s latest bit ae gossip hid been tae tell everywan in the machine shoap that he’d clocked some young bit ae stuff stripping aff in her bedroom.

  “The shameless hussy hid the bedroom light oan and the curtains open wide.  She knew exactly whit she wis daeing.  She’ll keep me gaun in wanking material fur a month, so she will,” he’d bragged.

  Tony hid goat wan ae the pass-men who did the cleaning in the halls tae nip in tae Snappy’s cell tae check oot the view.  He’d come back and said that ye could barely see o’er the tap ae the jail wall.  And as for Snappy hivving a swatch ae a naked wummin, the pass-man said that ye could make oot the taps ae people roofs and chimney stacks, bit there wis nae way Snappy could’ve clocked a pair ae tits unless they wur dangling o’er the tap ae the wall.  Johnboy and the others hid decided no tae let oan tae Snappy that they knew he wis telling them a dinger as they didnae want tae hurt his feelings, and also because he wid’ve become a nightmare, demanding tae know how they knew he wis telling a lie.  The safety ae the pass-man wis another reason tae keep quiet.  The only fly in the ointment that Johnboy could see, if there wis wan, wis that The Scowler, Jimmy Baxter, wis oan the tap flair landing.  Efter the carry oan in Longriggend, things hid settled doon tae an uneasy truce ae no acknowledging anything hid happened between them.  If Baxter held a grudge aboot Johnboy attacking him, he never showed it.  They basically kept oot ae each other’s way.  Every noo and again they’d be confronted wae each other’s presence when they wur passing through a door or staunin at the grub hatch, waiting tae get served.  In fact, the only words spoken between them since Johnboy’s arrival in Dumfries, hid been initiated by Baxter himsel.  They’d ended up sitting ootside in the corridor, waiting tae see the dentist across in the gatehoose, alang fae the social work office.  Peter The Pervert, wan ae the beasts, hid been howling like a stuck pig as the whine ae the screaming drill being applied tae his teeth hid sounded like a formula wan racing car.  Johnboy hid looked across at Baxter who’d returned his gaze wae a wee wry smile.