Run Johnboy Run: The Glasgow Chronicles 2 by Ian Todd Page B

prayed tae, she couldnae come up wae an answer.  She couldnae help smiling thinking aboot whit he’d come back wae.
      “Bit Ah thought ye telt us that God wis jist a story made up by rich kings and queens tae keep the smellys like us doon?”
      Coming fae somewan else, it could’ve been construed as a lippy answer, bit fae Johnboy, he’d jist repeated whit she’d always uttered when religion came up in conversations wae the weans when they wur growing up.  She supposed it hid proved wan thing though.  Here she wis, always believing that he never took in anything she ever said, and there he wis, hitting her wae that wee gem.
      She looked at the clock oan the mantelpiece.  Hauf an hour tae go.  She wisnae too sure where she wis at wae aw this though.  She’d tossed and turned aw last night.  She’d felt like gieing Jimmy a thump oan the side ae that heid ae his efter he’d swung roond, away fae her again, letting oot an exaggerated ‘harrumph’ because ae aw the fidgeting aboot in the bed she wis daeing, lying there beside him.
      “Fur Christ’s sake, Helen, kin ye no lie at peace?”
      She hidnae responded because he hid a five o’clock start as he wis driving doon tae England wae a load.  He wis a good man, bit he didnae know the hauf ae it, or did he?  He jist goat oan wae life while it seemed tae her that she’d tae deal wae aw the shite.  Is that whit they wur meant tae dae?  Him tae go oot tae work and her tae keep the dampeners oan things at her end so that when he did appear, everything wid be hunky-dory?  Thank Christ they didnae gie ye a test oan whether ye’d succeeded or no, she thought tae herself, sitting there, soaking up the silence.  She wisnae too sure if she should be excited wae whit she wis aboot tae dae, or petrified.  Betty, next door, hid warned her tae keep her heid doon and oot ae sight as she’d only be getting a using and, at the end ae the day, if there wis any crap flying aboot, it wid land oan her.
      “Ah’d stay well clear, Helen.  Aye, and when the shite flies and lands oan ye, it bloody leaves a smell that ye cannae get rid ae fur a long time,” Betty hid advised.
      Betty wis pretty sound.  She didnae muck aboot wae words.  She always jist came oot and said whit she felt and didnae gie a monkey’s whether people agreed wae her or no.  Bit wis she right this time?  Hivving said that, when wis the last time Betty wis right aboot anything?  Betty wis a battler and tough as nails, bit as a thinker and a planner?  Helen acknowledged that whit Betty hid said made sense, bit could she afford tae ignore whit wis happening and end up sitting aboot wondering whit tae dae next, when an opportunity hid awready danced across the flair in front ae her and she’d ignored it?  Betty and the other lassies jist saw battling wae The Corporation and the sheriff officers as part and parcel ae being in a Corporation hoose and always goat tore right in.  The problem, as Helen saw it, wis that anytime she said the aim wis tae try and get things tae change and stoap the warrant sales fur good, everywan jist laughed.
      “Battling wae they frigging pigs is wan thing, Helen, bit trying tae stoap sales and evictions fur good?  Well, Ah widnae haud yer breath jist yet,” Soiled Sally hid said at their last get-thegither, tae nods and laughter.
      She couldnae talk tae Jimmy aboot it either.  He thought she wis daft enough as it wis, withoot talking aboot increasing the demonstrations against The Corporation and they sheriff officers ae theirs.
      “Fur Christ’s sake, Helen, any chance ae something tae eat when Ah come in fae ma work, insteid ae me hivving tae send the kids oot tae find ye up some close, shouting and bawling aboot stuff that’s goat fuck aw tae dae wae ye in the first place?”
      “It’ll be us next.”
      “Aye, and Betty, next door, the morra.  Whit’s that goat tae dae wae us aw sitting here starving, waiting fur ye tae make an