Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2

  Chapter One

  Glesga District Court, Central Polis Headquarters, March 1968.

  “Ur the background reports aw in order, Miss Metcalfe?” asked JP Donnelly, cooncillor fur the Toonheid district ae the City ae Glesga and local Justice ae the Peace.

  “They ur, yer honour,” replied the procurator fiscal, haudin up a sheaf ae papers.

  “And whit conclusions dae they come up wae that we don’t awready know?”

  “That Taylor his persistently reoffended, despite being gied numerous chances tae reform by the judiciary, and by yersel in particular, as well as hivving hid support fae his parents tae stay oot ae trouble. Psychological tests and observations, carried oot under secure conditions, hiv determined that Taylor far exceeds the intelligence ae a normal thirteen year auld and that he’s fully aware ae the difference between right and wrang. They conclude that the danger ae him reoffending is categorised as high.”

  “Ye mean it’s guaranteed?”

  “Er, aye, yer honour.”

  “So, ye widnae put a bet oan that no happening then?”

  “Er, naw, yer honour.”

  “An odds oan certainty, as ma wee baldy bookie wance telt me efter he took me tae the cleaners…a nae brainer?” JP asked, acknowledging the smiles fae the fiscal team and court ushers.

  “Aye, yer honour. Ah think ye’ve hit the nail oan the heid wae that wee analogy.”

  “Anything else that we hivnae awready sussed oot fur oorsels, withoot the assistance ae highly paid chancers in the psychology profession, Miss Metcalfe?”

  “It says here that Taylor kin be categorised as an ‘Intelligent Delinquent,’ yer honour.”

  “Well, he cannae be that intelligent or he widnae be staunin here in front ae us, noo wid he?” JP retorted, mair as a statement than a question, looking aboot the wee courtroom, pleased tae see that anywan wae any sense thought the same as himsel.

  “Ah think that wid be an acceptable conclusion tae make, yer honour. However, the reason fur that tag is tae highlight caution oan whit ye’ve jist said.”

  “How dae ye mean?”

  “The fact that ye’ve jist stated that Taylor cannae be that intelligent or he widnae be staunin here, tends tae suggest that ye’re dismissing that caution and no accepting the facts, despite the warnings fae the psychologist and others.”

  “Ah’m well aware ae the sleekitness ae the wee cu...er…toe-rag, Miss Metcalfe.”

  “Aye, yer honour, bit the point Ah’m highlighting fae the report is that...”

  “He’s no tae be trusted under any circumstances?”

  “...Taylor will continue tae reoffend, no because ae the circumstances ae his environment, bit because he’s awready made an informed choice that that’s whit he wants tae dae. It says here…and Ah quote, ‘In order tae challenge and reverse Taylor’s recidivist tendencies, a greater emphasis should be placed oan challenging his assumption that the choices he makes ur acceptable, no only tae himsel, bit tae the community in which he inhabits. Currently, the state education system and the community he lives in hiv neither the time nor the expertise tae fully respond tae their ain needs fur protection fae him, and the needs ae Taylor himsel, who believes that whit he’s daeing is perfectly acceptable.’ End ae quote, yer honour.”

  “So, Miss Metcalfe? Putting that intae plain Glaswegian-speak that everywan in this courtroom kin understaun?”

  “The report recommends a long-term custodial supervision order, yer honour.”

  “Aye, Ah thought that’s whit ye wur hinting at, bit Ah jist wisnae too sure up until that last wee point.”

  “Thank ye, yer honour.”

  “Right, oan that happy note, whit hiv ye tae say oan behauf ae yer client, Mr Portsoy?”

  “Portoy.”

  “Eh?”

  “It’s Mr Portoy, your honour.”

  “So, when did ye say ye qualified as a solicitor, Mr Portsoy?”

  “Er, I’m still on my first year’s post-qualifying probation, your honour.”

  “Ma question? Dae ye want me tae repeat masel?”

  “No, your honour. I heard what you asked the first time.”

  “So?”

  “So what…er, your honour?” the defence brief asked, getting flustered.

  “So, where’s ma answer then?”

  “I thought I had given it to you…your honour.”

  “Ur ye trying tae take the pi...er…len ae me, son? Ah hope Ah’m no dealing wae wan ae they wee so-called fly-men, who’s suddenly jist been let loose fae a joke ae a law course and who noo thinks he knows everything?”

  “Er, well, if you…”

  “Wan ae these wee pluke-faced boys that Ah’ve taken tae the cleaners oan many a morning, o’er nothing mair important than taking umbrage at me getting his name wrang, while staunin there in a fancy dressing-gown…who nowan, and Ah mean nowan, his heard ae ootside this courtroom apart fae me this very morning?” JP spat, spit flying forth in aw directions.

  “Er, no, no, your honour,” the brief quaked.

  “So, spit it oot then.”

  “Er, would you repeat the question again please?”

  “Ah cannae bloody-well believe this,” JP grumbled gruffly, looking aboot the room, starting tae enjoy himsel. “Ye widnae be related tae Harry Portoy, by any chance, wid ye?”

  “Er, he was my father, your honour.”

  “Wis he noo?” JP said thoughtfully. “Right, Ah’m gieing ye a final warning, Mr Portsoy…wan mair bit ae cheek oot ae you and ye’ll be staunin in that dock alangside that manky wee client ae yours.”

  “But, I, er...”

  “When did ye qualify as a solicitor and whit hiv ye tae say oan behauf ae yer client?” JP repeated, glaring at him.

  “Er, I qualified ten days ago, your honour,” the brief admitted, looking aboot in embarrassment, as everywan in the courtroom, apart fae his client and Helen Taylor, the accused’s mother, burst oot laughing.

  “Right, at last, we’ve goat something resembling a defence. Carry oan, bit remember, Ah’ll be watching oot fur any mair insolence oot ae ye, Sunny-Jim.”

  “As the procurator fiscal has pointed out, we’re not dealing with a wee thicko here, but with an intelligent misunderstood young...”

  “Hing oan…wait a minute…jist haud yer horses, son. Fur the benefit ae everywan in this courtroom this morning, when did ye meet yer client fur the very first time?”

  “Er, this morning, your honour. Why?”

  “And how many clients hiv ye defended so far?”

  “This is my first, your honour.”

  “So, ye’ll perhaps no appreciate that every single decent person hinging aboot in here, trying tae stoap themsels fae falling asleep while they’ve been listening tae ye prattling oan this morning, knows this wee toe-rag like they know wan ae their ain family. In fact, some ae them probably believe he is wan ae their family, seeing as he’s never oot ae this place. So, where ur ye gaun wae this?”

  “Well, er, I was just about to point out that, if given the chance, Tay...”

  “Point taken and a very good wan at that, even though we’ve heard it a dozen times before, or in his case, two dozen. Well done, son…welcome tae the Central District Court.”

  “But, if I can jus…”

  “So, if there’s nothing else anywan wants tae add, we kin jist horse oan tae the sentencing? Back o’er tae yersel, Miss Metcalfe,” JP said pleasantly, looking doon at the procurator fiscal.

  “Thank you, yer honour. Given Taylor’s previous convictions, which includes numerous official warnings, two years’ probation, wan stint ae fourteen days and two stints ae twenty eight days detention at Larchgrove Remand Home, t
he only options open tae ye is an Approved School Detention Order.”

  “Aye, it’s a pity they banned the birch, eh? It wid’ve been good tae send this wan oan his way feeling the full force ae the law and wae a wee reminder ae whit he faces efter the day, if he steps oot ae line. So, it’s back tae The Grove tae await a vacancy at wan ae the approved schools, is it?”

  “Naw, yer honour. Given the psychological and other supporting background reports, undertaken while he wis oan remand in Larchgrove, they’ve awready requested that a school be found as quickly as possible that wid be prepared tae take him straight away. Larchgrove don’t feel that his continued presence, ae up tae three months, in their good establishment, wid be conducive tae maintaining order and discipline in the management ae the place, due tae his unruly behaviour and that ae his known associates who ur awready incarcerated there.”

  “And dae we hiv a school in mind?”

  “If ye look at the last paragraph oan the third sheet ae the background report, yer honour?”

  “Thistle Park?”

  “Aye, yer honour. Efter matching up the requirements identified in the background report, it wis felt that a far mair secure environment should be allocated in this instance.”

  “Right, Black Boab, staun up. Dae ye hiv anything tae say before Ah sentence ye? Whit wis that?”

  “He mumbled that he’s awready staunin, yer honour.”

  “Right, well, baith yersel and me go back a long way, Sunny-Jim. Ye’ve hid every chance that Ah could throw at ye and ye’re still staunin up here in front ae me looking like a tramp and as black as two in the morning. So, here’s whit Ah’m gonnae dae. This court sentences ye tae a maximum ae three years in Thistle Park Approved School or up till ye reach the age ae fifteen, whichever comes first,” JP said, smiling across at Helen Taylor, who wis sitting oan her lonesome in the public benches. “Any consideration as tae ye being released earlier should be dependant oan yer behaviour while ye’re under this custodial supervision. It gies me…and Ah’m sure aw the people in this court, great pleasure tae know that we won’t be seeing ye running roond the streets ae the Toonheid fur a long time tae come. So, unless there’s anything ae particular interest that Ah don’t awready know aboot, shout in the next wee toe-rag, Miss Metcalfe.”

  Chapter Two

  “Right, in ye get, ya manky wee shitehoose, ye,” smirked Creeping Jesus, the turnkey.

  “How long will Ah be in here?”

  “Ah don’t know. It’ll be until somewan comes tae collect ye.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “Ur ye deaf or whit?”

  “Ur you?”

  “Scum,” Creepy muttered under his breath, banging the cell door shut.

  Johnboy stood coonting the seconds under his breath, tae see how long it’d take fur the echo fae the slamming door tae disappear. Bang oan fourteen seconds. He wondered how many people hid stood oan that very spot o’er the years, coonting oot the echo. Satisfied that he’d guessed right again, he turned and looked aboot. The cell hidnae changed since the first time he’d been there wae his pals, Tony Gucci, Joe McManus and Skull Kelly, back in nineteen sixty five, when he wis ten. The other Manky, Paul McBride, hid awready been sentenced tae approved school by JP Donnelly by that time. The silence, only disturbed by the constant humming ae a boiler, somewhere in the building, kicking aff every noo and again, hidnae changed either. He smiled tae himsel. Skull believed the noise wis intentional and wis a Chinese torture technique, used by the Japs during the war oan the sojers they captured…the haufwit. Tony never failed tae let it be known that he wanted tae find oot where they kept the hot water boiler. Tony reckoned it wis bound tae be made ae copper and that they’d get aboot four quid fur it aff ae Roger The Dodger, the scrap dealer oan St James Road. Tony wis guaranteed tae come oot wae the same point every time The Mankys goat huckled and slung intae the cells doon at Central. Joe wis always well intae the idea because ae the risks there’d be in daeing an all-nighter up in the loft ae a polis station.

  “Kin ye imagine they pricks’ faces when they’d come oan duty in the morning tae find that there wisnae any fucking hot water fur the basturts?” Skull wid titter gleefully, getting in oan the excitement.

  “Aye, being faced wae a big empty space where their good tank hid wance stood,” Johnboy remembered saying, dribbling at the mooth at the thought ae getting wan o’er oan them.

  “Kin ye imagine? ‘Right, Crisscross, send oot fur the plumber, it’ll probably only need a valve replacement.’”

  “Or in his case, a bigger cock,” Tony hid said, straight-faced, before they’d aw aboot pished themsels laughing.

  Johnboy turned roond and looked at the studded metal door wae the flaky paint oan it. He could still hear the faint sound ae their cackling, echoing laughter, ringing up and doon the corridors fae aw they years ago. He tried tae remember who’d won their keepy-up competition that first time he’d been locked up wae them. It hid been either himsel or Tony. He remembered Skull arguing the toss every time he messed-up at the start ae his turn and his continuous bleating tae be allowed tae go again. Everywan always gied in tae stoap the wee baldy basturt fae melting their ears wae his whining and moaning. Despite his fitba boots, which wur never aff ae they feet ae his, Skull wis pretty shite at fitba. Skull could always talk a good game whether people wur listening or no. If Johnboy’s memory served him well, he wis sure that it hid been himsel that hid won the competition that first time, wae a score ae twenty or twenty wan. At the time, it hid been really important fur Johnboy tae be able tae prove tae the others how good he wis, whether it wis at kicking a sock baw up in the air, breaking intae shoaps or stripping lead aff ae a tenement roof in the middle ae the night while people living underneath wur sleeping in their beds. Being gallus wis everything tae The Mankys. Being useless at anything goat their attention like flies roond shite, wae the victim, which wis usually Johnboy at that time, ending up humiliated, tae the point ae wanting tae run hame tae that ma ae his, bawling and greeting. It aw seemed so long ago. He smiled, remembering Skull no being able tae contain himsel and starting tae fuck aboot wance Johnboy hid reached sixteen or seventeen…in an attempt tae put Johnboy aff. Johnboy looked aboot. There wisnae any use in worrying aboot things like that noo. If he wis being honest wae himsel, the sentence hidnae come as a surprise. And as fur that skinny, stuttering, baw-heid ae a lawyer. Where the hell hid they goat him fae, the useless prick? Johnboy slipped aff his shoes and rolled his two socks up intae a baw. The Mankys wid gie him a hard time if they could clock him noo, wearing socks withoot any holes in them, he thought tae himsel, grinning as he slipped his shoes back oan tae they feet ae his.

  “Ye cannae go tae court wae holes in yer socks. Whit if they put ye oan remand? Ah’ll get a showing up, so Ah will,” his ma hid tut-tutted two weeks earlier, before his first court appearance.

  “Bit nowan, apart fae JP, knows ye doon there. Ye’ll jist be another face in a busy crowd, so how will ye get a showing up?”

  “Johnboy, yer da’s at work and yer sisters ur at school, so it’s me that’s hivving tae take ye doon tae the courthoose. This is jist as hard fur me as it is fur you, so gie me peace and let me get oan wae it ma way. Okay?”

  Johnboy hid wanted tae tell her that he couldnae gie a monkey’s fuck aboot turning up in front ae JP, bit he didnae think that that wis whit she’d hiv wanted tae hear at the time. He always knew when she wis building hersel up intae a right tizzy. That’s when she could be dangerous wae they hauns ae hers. He started aff wae kicking his sock-baw fae wan end ae the cell tae the other tae loosen up. He then started daeing wee chips fae the smooth concrete bed that wis moulded oan tae the flair, o’er towards the door, before moving oan tae aiming fur the spy hole. This wis mair difficult than it looked or turned oot tae be. He took his right shoe aff and tried it wae a bare fit. Bingo! He could get mair ae a flick under the baw wae his bare toes. He wis daeing well until he stubbed his big toe, which meant the shoe gaun back oan fur aboot
hauf an hour till the pain eased aff. When he finally goat roond tae daeing keepy-ups, he wis feeling quite good wae himsel. Efter hauf an hour ae skipping aboot the cell like a diddy, he managed tae get up tae twenty wan. Efter knackering himsel oot, he lay doon oan the concrete bed and dozed aff.

  He didnae know how long he’d been snoozing fur, bit when he stirred, he hid that familiar feeling that somewan’s beady eyes wur gieing him the wance o’er.

  “Built-in radar, so it is. That’s whit puts us aheid ae everywan else,” Tony always said knowingly, whenever The Mankys spoke aboot it.

  Nowan could argue wae that. They’d plenty ae examples ae when they’d instinctively known who it wis that wis gonnae walk roond the corner intae view a few seconds before it happened…especially if it involved The Stalker or his sidekick sergeant, Bumper. He opened his right eye slowly, bit due tae his position, he could only see a bit ae the bottom hauf ae the door. He made oot that he wis turning in his sleep, letting oot a wee sly sleepy groan, tae fool whoever it wis that wis daeing the clocking. When he opened baith his eyes, turned and found that there wisnae anywan at the spyhole, he assumed he’d jist been imagining things. He jist aboot shat they good clean underpants that his ma hid made him put oan tae match his da’s good clean socks that he’d been kicking aboot the cell earlier, when he heard a voice.

  “Johnboy, Ah know ye’re awake, so ye kin stoap yer farting aboot,” a nippy wee voice that he hidnae heard in a long, long time said.

  “Fuck!” he yelped in fright, jumping up.

  He bolted across tae the cell door and squealed in frustration at finding it locked.

  “Aye, Ah see ye hivnae improved oan ma record-winning keepy-up score either, ya fud-pad, ye,” Skull chortled.

  “Skull? Shit! Oh my God! Skull…whit the…it cannae be you?” Johnboy screeched fearfully, lifting his hauns up tae scratch baith sides ae his heid at the same time, no believing whit wis staunin in front ae they eyes ae his.

  “Of course it’s me. Who else wid it be?”

  “Fur Christ’s sake. Tell me Ah’m dreaming…or…or something,” Johnboy whined oot loud, gieing that heid ae his another shake and starting tae get irritated wae the sound ae his ain echoing voice bouncing back at him aff ae the tiled walls.