The Wummin: The Glasgow Chronicles 5 (21 page)

Chapter Forty One

  Mary Marigold, newly appointed features sub-editor, in her newly created position, looked aboot her desk, bit no matter which way she turned, there seemed tae be nae escape fae her surroundings.  The postage stamp flair space allocated tae her and her desk at the far end ae the room oan the second flair said it aw.  She tentatively touched the wall wae her manicured fingertips and immediately felt the thrum that instantly took her back tae when she wis a wee wean, sitting oan tap ae the hydraulic compressor that hid been parked ootside her closemooth when The Corporation workmen hid been digging up her street in Dennistoun.  Back then, the tingling oan her and her pals’ arses hid been hilariously funny.  Noo, aw she wanted tae dae wis puke up intae her wastepaper basket, tae try and get rid ae the sea-sick feeling that wis lurking in the pit ae her stomach.  Here she sat, oan day wan, the cheeks ae her arse awready moulded intae her cheap office chair, oan the other side ae the wall fae the noisy printing presses, doon near the street level, in amongst the honking, growling noise ae the traffic oan Hope Street.  Her recent promotion shouted oot tae everywan in the large room, who she noticed wur sitting at their desks, oblivious tae her distress, whit her new status wis in the grand scheme ae things at The Glesga Echo.  She wis still in a state ae shock, and despite hivving tried tae rationalise the decision fae aw different angles, she still couldnae figure oot whit it wis that she’d done wrang in the eyes ae the management.  It hid been exactly ten days since Hogmanay, when she’d been aw set tae tear up the road tae Possil, or rather, Hillend Road in High Possil, as fast as her long, slim legs could carry her.  She’d been assigned tae cover the shooting ae Tam Simpson, the notorious gangster and his lover, Alison Crawford, the social worker and wife ae an Assistant Governor at Polmont Borstal, oot near Falkirk.  It wis the kind ae assignment that any crime reporter worth their salt wid’ve committed murder tae be gied.  In the six years she’d sucked, fucked, ducked and dived tae get tae where she wis, or rather, where she’d been before the thirty first ae December...nothing as juicy as this hid ever showed its gruesome splattered heid.  Even worse, she still couldnae figure oot the exact steps in the process tae where she’d suddenly and unexpectedly found hersel sitting across the desk fae Tom Bryce, who wis the crime desk editor and her boss at that time.  Even though Mary noo hated her ex-boss wae venom, she could nonetheless appreciate Bryce’s pathetic attempt at trying tae soften the blow and humiliation ae her removal fae her job as the first ever senior female crime reporter in the history ae the paper and her replacement wae a well-known shifty hack that everywan referred tae as The Rat.

  “There, there, darling...calm down...it’s not the end of the world,” Benson Flaw, her man hid cooed, following her fae room tae room in their West End Toonhoose in Kirklee Terrace.

  “Don’t ye understaun, Benson, it bloody well is,” she’d wailed like a frustrated nun.

  “Look, I’ll tell you what, Mary.  I’ll resign tomorrow.  That’ll show them, eh?” Benson, the paper's motoring columnist hid volunteered.

  “Benson, oh ma God, ye jist don’t get it, dae ye?  They’ve taken the only job Ah’ve ever wanted and replaced me wae a horrible wee man that goes by the name ae The Rat, so they hiv.  A bloody hack that’s in the pocket ae anywan who’s goat mair than two bob tae their name.  Why?  Why?  Whit hiv Ah done tae deserve this?  Ah’m no a bad person, so Ah’m no,” she’d howled, feeling real physical pain stabbing away at her ribcage, as it wis wracked by her sobbing.

  “Look, I’m sure there was a perfectly valid reason.  Tom Bryce just wouldn’t do that without it being necessary.  My family has known Tom for years.  Him and my father played rugger together at Allan Glen’s.  He’s a good man.”

  “It’s because Ah’m a wummin, so it is.”

  “Oh, Mary...”

  “Aye, and an uppity working class wan at that,” she’d wailed, before dashing intae the bedroom.

  She’d thrown hersel oan tae the bed, screaming the place doon and hid refused point blank tae go oot first-fitting wae Benson.

  Mary smiled bitterly, remembering her antics.  Poor Benson hid goat himsel intae a right terrible state, so he hid.  It hid been typical ae him tae offer tae resign.  That hid been his upbringing talking...a son ae the manse...a rich son ae the manse at that...the daft twat.  She’d always been tempted tae ask that faither ae his, a past moderator ae the Church ae Scotland, how he wis gonnae manage tae get that rich Christian arse ae his through the eye ae the needle before that four-legged humphy-backed camel goat in there first, especially when she’d a few drinks in her.  She’d been close a few times, bit hid always managed tae bite oan her bottom lip before she made an arse and pariah ae hersel.  It hidnae been easy when her and Benson hid first started dating in the mid-sixties.  She knew fine well that the parents wur against their son taking up wae somewan fae the smelly classes.  She even suspected that they blamed her proximity tae the family fur Benson's wee sister, Fanny, hivving gone and goat hersel put up the duff by some feckless prick while she wis working in an approved school at the tail end ae the sixties.  Although Fanny hid always kept the name ae the father tae hersel, Mary hid always believed that it hid been wan ae the wee scallywags that hid managed tae wangle his way intae her knickers.  The concern aboot Benson and her getting thegither wisnae aw wan-sided either.  It hid taken Mary a while tae come tae terms wae her decision.  Benson most definitely widnae hiv been her first choice.  Mary hid jist been aboot tae finish her degree at Glesga University.  She reckoned that aw that partying must’ve clouded her senses as it hid suddenly dawned oan her wan day that although she’d managed tae shag hauf her year and two-thirds ae her lecturers in the time she’d been there, she wis oan the verge ae departing wae less prospects than when she’d first passed through the hallowed gates.  She’d been the badass bitch fae Dennistoun and him, the rich yokel fae Glenochil, oot in Nowheresville, in darkest Clackmannanshire.  The hitch-up itsel hid been straight forward enough though.  Although he’d been at least five years aulder than her, she’d smiled at him wan night when she wis legless in the students union when he’d tried tae slip her a Tory election flyer.  Wan thing hid led tae another and before he knew it, she’d taken him back tae her digs and shagged the baws aff ae him...and that hid been that.  Benson hid lost his cherry and she’d gained a couple ae rich plums.  It hidnae been long efter they’d left University that his father hid approached their family friend, Tom Bryce, and Benson hid goat a position as the motoring columnist wae The Glesga Echo, due tae his knowledge and ownership ae fast and expensive cars.  Six months later, efter failing tae find any job that took her fancy, Mary hid been taken oan as a graduate trainee reporter, covering the district courts and street gang crime scene, clearly oan account ae her obvious working class roots and accent.  Maist ae the time, the articles she produced hid been used in the Pat Roller column...Pat Roller being a pseudonym fur Patroller, although hauf the thickos reading the paper in the toon actually believed there wis a journalist called Pat Roller.  Fae there, o’er the next six years, she’d burst her baws and a fair few belonging tae other people oan the way, tae advance her career.  She’d worked her way up, in a man’s world, tae become the paper’s tap crime journalist...or at least she hid, until The Rat hid reappeared oan the scene fae America and walked back intae his...her...auld job.  She closed her eyes and tried an auld yoga breathing trick tae suppress the misery welling up inside her.  It wis the loud cough, o’er the sound ae the paper’s printing rollers next door and the traffic ootside, that brought her back tae be confronted wae her current predicament.

  “Er, whit, eh, whit?” she spluttered, confused, eyes attempting tae focus oan the eager fifteen-year-auld, freckle-faced, redheided school leaver who wis staunin in front ae her desk, pad and pencil in her haun.

  “Ah said, hiv ye goat anything else ye need me tae be daeing fur ye, Miss Marigold?”

  “Eh? Whit th...”

  “Ah said hi...”

  “Pearl, Pearl, let’s get wan thing straight here, okay?  Ye don’t creep up oan me, yer so-called boss when Ah'm, er... deep in creative thought, trying tae work oot whit it is that Ah'm supposed tae be writing aboot.  Hiv ye goat that, hen?” she growled at little Miss Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep.

  “Oh, right, sorry, Miss Marigold.  Ah, er, never meant tae...”

  “And another thing, Pearl...stoap aw that apologising stuff.  Ye’re starting tae sound like that man ae mine’s, who never dis anything that requires an apology in the first place.”

  “Oh right, er, sorry...”

  “Look, hen, Ah’ll tell ye whit.  Nip oot tae the paper shoap beside the bus stoap, get me twenty Embassy Regals, and get five Park Drives fur yersel fur gaun.  Bring me back a Fry’s Cream and a bar ae Five Boys chocolate as well, while ye’re at it.  Ma nerves ur in tatters, sitting here in this bunker, so they ur,” Mary grumbled, haunin o’er a ten bob note, as the freckle-faced redheid spun roond and skipped aff towards the door at the far end ae the room as if she wis oan an important mission.

  Mary wis glad tae gie Pearl a task...the second since eight o’clock that Monday morning...her first day back tae work efter the New Year break.  She looked up at the clock.  It said hauf three.  She wondered whit wis gaun oan up oan the fourth flair...the newsroom.  She wanted tae pick up the phone...naw...she wanted tae march up they stairs, two at a time, in her good high heels, tae Tom Bryce’s office in the news room and smash his face tae a bloody pulp.  Who the hell hid asked fur an assistant, eh?  Certainly no her.  Wis he oan some sort ae guilt trip, or whit?  She never hid an assistant when she wis oot dicing wae death oan the streets, at aw hours ae the night, trying tae sniff oot a good story, tae increase the sales ae the paper, so why noo?

  “Calm down, darling.  I’m sure it’s just Tom’s way of saying sorry...trying to be helpful after firing...er...promoting you,” Benson hid purred soothingly, fae his desk oan the third flair when she’d phoned him earlier in a raging, desperate panic.

  “There isnae enough work fur me withoot his majesty plapping an eager-beaver school leaver oan tae me.  That’s the last thing Ah need.  Christ, Ah’m sinking, Benson.  Ma journalistic juices ur drying up underneath ma very fingernails and Ah’m noo expected tae operate way below whit ma brain’s used tae.  Ah’ll no last until the end ae the day, so Ah won’t,” she’d whinged in self-pity.

  “Look, if the girl isn’t up to it, then let her go.  I’m sure she’ll get another job somewhere else.”

  “Ah don’t know whether she’s up tae it or no, Benson.  Ah hivnae goat her tae dae anything other than tae clear a space behind some boxes doon in this corner fur hersel and tae try and make me a bigger space in amongst aw the box files belonging tae the typing pool.  Ah hivnae goat a clue whit it is Ah’m supposed tae be daeing.”

  “Look, it’s a new start for you... and the girl.  Give it a try, Mary.  See how you feel by the end of the week,” he’d said encouragingly before hinging up.

  “Here ye go, Miss Marigold,” Pearl panted, haunin o’er the fags and the chocolate bars.

  “Did ye get some fags fur yersel, hen?”

  “Oh, aye, Ah did.  Thanks fur that, Miss Marigold,” the girl replied, staunin, waiting fur an instruction.

  “Look, Pearl, grab a box and plap that wee arse ae yers doon oan tae it fur a second, hen.  Ah’m no gonnae go intae aw the gory details, because it’s a long and painful story aboot the all-male management practices against aw us poor wummin in here, bit Ah’ve seemingly been promoted tae become a features sub-editor, whitever that is.  Noo, masel...we...us...need tae work oot whit the hell that is, because until we dae, Ah’m no in a position tae put pen tae paper, or should Ah say, copy tae typewriter.  Nae writing means nae output, which in turn, means, nothing tae dae.  So, ur ye wae me so far, hen?”

  “Er, well, naw, no really, Miss Marigold.”

  “Right, well, as ma assistant, ye’ll be assisting me tae come up wae ideas tae write aboot.  Noo, the ideas will need tae be researched and logged.  Anything that requires getting oot ae this jail, er, office, will be taken care ae by me.  That includes fancy lunches and evening meals wae possible article subjects.  Anything that requires reading and sifting through research articles by oor competitors back here in the dungeon is your department.  Hiv ye goat that noo or dae Ah need tae spell it oot?”

  “Er, aye, Ah think Ah’m getting there, so Ah am.”

  “Any questions then?”

  “Er, so, whit will ye be writing aboot then?” Pearl asked enthusiastically, pencil and pad paused above her knee, ready tae dive intae a bit ae research.

  “Well, that’s the problem...Ah don't know.  Efter writing aboot crooks and gangsters fur the past six plus years, Ah don’t really know much aboot anything else.”

  “Bit, did ye no say that as a feature sub-editor ye kin write any auld shite that ye want tae?”

  “Er, well, Ah suppose Ah did…in so many words.”

  “Then, why don’t ye shout oot whitever comes intae yer heid and Ah’ll write it aw doon oan ma good pad that Ah bought fae doon the Barras oan Saturday fur starting ma new job the day.  In fact, if ye get stuck, Ah’ll join in wae ye, if ye want?  Ma teachers always telt me that Ah wis blessed wae a vivid imagination, so they did,” Pearl exclaimed excitedly, pencil at the ready.

  “Right, in that case...ye kin start the baw rolling then, hen.   Whit Ah need ye tae dae is tae grab that wee pencil and new pad ae yers, and go and sit doon o’er there behind that big pile ae boxes where they’ve dumped yer desk,” Mary said tae her.   Wance Tweety Bird disappeared, Mary sat contemplating whether she should type her ain letter ae resignation or dictate it tae little Miss Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep, fur her tae write doon and type up, tae gie her something worthwhile tae dae oan her first and only day employed by The Glesga Echo.