Free Dumfries by Ian Todd Page B

ninety-year-auld granny, separating him fae everywan wid be standard practice.  Johnboy hid been in and oot ae the nick often enough tae know that the YO sitting oan his lonesome wisnae a sex offender.  He wis jist too cocky and sure ae himsel.  Whit there wisnae any doubt ae, as far as Johnboy could tell, wis that he wis trouble wae a capital D fur Dangerous.  Johnboy knew fine well that he’d hiv tae get in there quick before himsel or Silent copped their whack first.  Wance again, he looked aroond where they wur sitting, searching fur any advantageous opportunities.  There wisnae an obvious weapon within reach.  He knew the church served as a chapel fur the Catholic boys oan account ae the eighteen-inch brass crucifix sitting oan the middle ae the alter doon at the front.  It wid’ve made a good club, he thought tae himsel.  He imagined it in his haun, skelping fuck oot ae Bawheid across the aisle, while Silent protected that back ae his, keeping the screws at bay, as the damage wis being inflicted.  He knew the crucifix wid be bolted doon and anyway, by the time he’d galloped aw the way doon and tried tae wrench JC aff ae that perch ae his, the screws and the victim wid be oan tae him.  He allowed his eyes tae wander away fae the crucifix.  He took in the presence ae the screw oan either side ae the alter and another two, hauf wae up, leaning against the wall oan the insides ae the two seating areas.  He glanced across at The Scowler again before shifting his focus towards the minister who’d jist arrived through a side door, doon at the front.  Johnboy wis conscious that The Scowler hid suddenly turned his heid roond tae hiv a quick swatch across at him and Silent.  Johnboy still wisnae convinced that The Scowler hid sussed oot that him and Silent wur oan tae him, so he sat passively, looking at whit wis gaun oan doon at the pulpit.  When Johnboy wis aboot ten-years-auld, Tony Gucci, his best pal, hid pulled him up short in front ae their other two pals, Paul McBride and Joe McManus, fur staring at somewan they wur aboot tae attack.
      “Johnboy, whit the fuck ur ye daeing, ya daft eejit?” Tony hid demanded tae know.
      “Whit?”
      “Never ever gie the game away by trying tae stare doon who ye’re aboot tae knock fuck oot ae.  Ye’re no in the pictures watching a Hopalong Cassidy film noo.  Let them find oot whit’s aboot tae happen wance they’re oan the deck and no before.”
      Tony hid been right.  If ye wanted tae get in there first and take advantage, why advertise the fact beforehaun?
      “Good morning, boys.  If you pick up your hymn books, we’ll start this morning’s service with hymn number six hundred and twenty,” the Minister opened wae, in that well-practiced, seasoned, droning voice ae his.
      Johnboy wondered if getting the drone right wis aw part ae the training, as everywan shuffled tae their feet, and the organist plonked they fingers ae wan ae his hauns oan tae the wrang keys, sending a Hammer Hoose ae Horror tremor wailing through the church, tae the sniggers ae some ae the boys tae Johnboy’s right.  
      Other than the good reverend’s, there wur only a few voices tae be heard, mumbling oot ae tune, something aboot ploughing fields and scattering their good seed oan the land.  Johnboy took advantage ae the charade being played oot in front ae them and gied The Scowler another wee wance-o’er.  He could see his lips moving, bit wisnae sure whether it wis in an attempt at singing or if he wis jist working himsel up tae spin roond before launching himsel at him and Silent.  When Johnboy hid first started running aboot wae whit wid later become ‘The Mankys’ as a ten-year-auld snapper, it hid taken him a wee while tae figure oot who it wis that Tony, Joe and Paul hid meant, when they kept telling him that ‘they’ wur oot tae get them.  The expression hid become some sort ae manky mantra doon the years that basically allowed them tae dae whit