ALEX MILLER

Skinny Malingky long legs,

-big banana feet,

-Took all the children,

-and made their Mammys’ weep.”

Scottish childrens' rhyme.

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Alex Miller

2008

alex.miller@cengage.com

PROLOGUE

After nearly an hour of caution borne of the will to survive, themother of the wolf family cautiously approached in the hope of ameal. She saw her intended prey’s eyes flicker and it made her wantto run but her need of food for her pups forced her to continue herslow cautious stalk. When the Viking's eyes moved again she growledquietly and sank into the tall grass to wait. She had time and it didn'tlook as if the human was going anywhere.

When the sun disappeared behind the clouds again she inched abit closer. She could see from where she was that the human’s eyeswere still moving slightly so the meat was obviously fresh but it didn'tlook as if it was in any kind of trouble because it didn't struggle.

The Viking came back from unconsciousness slowly and it took afew minutes for him to realise what had happened and that he'dbeen lying there, on top of his captives, for some time.

He saw that he'd sunk into the mire a few more inches because hecould no longer see his helmet on the grassy mound. He didn’t feelany movement under him but that was not to say that the Scotswere dead because he could feel nothing. Nothing at all.

Unblinking eyes stared at the darkening sky and he watchedgathering flocks of black clouds tumble eastward high above him,silently racing towards his homeland while the only feeling he wasaware off was his cold shallow breath shivering in his chest.

A dull ache at his temple reminded him why he couldn't move.Neither his arms or legs would work; all of his body was paralysedexcept his eyes and a slow terror built in his active mind when hethought of the animals that might come.

“This is no way for the son of a Viking King to die.” He thought,“-If only I'd stuck to the plan and not been so arrogant, the stupidwoman would never have managed to outwit me and make me paythe price.”

A shadow flew past his face. Then another.

The first of the birds landed and tentatively hopped forward a fewyards from him and others soon followed. They bounced back andforth around him, fighting each other for position, but for themoment, stayed well away. The Viking Prince tried shouting at thembut no sound came from his throat. It occurred to him that they werenot approaching as quickly as he knew they could and he struggledto expand the periphery of his vision. With great effort he looked to

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his side and saw that there were perhaps twenty large ravens on thebrown grass at the edge of the swamp ten feet away and realisedtheir greedy cawing would attract bigger predators. He also becameaware of a painless unpleasant tingling in his lower body that felt as ifhis flesh was being chewed off it's bones.

The female wolf gnawed and tore hungrily below the knee at thesecond leg joint of it's prey, but it would have to hurry. It'sopportunist meal was fast disappearing into the bog and only theright thigh and buttock of the human was still visible in the safe area.It tried earlier to get to it's prey's neck but the quagmire was toocapturing and would surely swallow her as well if she wasn't careful.

A short time ago she'd returned in the dusk after taking the firstlimb to her den. That would keep her offspring busy until shereturned with her own meal.

For hours the eight Scots and the would-be king continued to sinkslowly into the bog. The clan's captor lay on his back, stranded like aturtle on top of them. The three Scots faces still above the surfaceknew they were to die with their countrymen. With painful realisationand sorrow they probed and reached around him with their arms andlegs as they choked. All round him and over him, wherever theycould get a hold, grasping him in a death grip with them forever.

When the cold mud that had suffocated his captors beneath himseeped into his mouth and nose, the Viking prince prayedunblinkingly to his Gods and asked for forgiveness from his father infailing his duty as a son. Black clouds burst forth and answered himcruelly with thunder and lightning while the torrential rain added tothe depth of the swamp and he sank out of sight into history.

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CHAPTER 1

The passenger side window was barely open, maybe quarter inch,just enough to let cigarette smoke out and the occasional stingingmissile of mid-April's horizontal rain in. When Sander and MaryThomson left their home in Stirling an hour ago the weather hadbeen fine as a summer's day. Now, like some Hollywood specialeffect, winter clouds whipped their way across the dark sky from theWest at storm speed.

Mary had been watching her husband for ten minutes. Watchinghim closely while the increased gale continued it's attempt to wraphim in his raincoat. Coat tails flapped aggressively like snappingcorners of a black flag while the strong wind chattered at his trouserlegs and face

Now and again she saw him do a little unrehearsed dance;moving his feet to silent music; balancing with difficulty against thestrong gusts that powered up the hill.

She laughed quietly as he angrily shoved the point of his blown-outgolf brolly into the soft earth and shook her head in amusementwhen he leant against a young silver birch no thicker than his arm. Inthe circumstances they seemed to welcome each others support.

She reached across and pumped the horn on the middle of thesteering wheel as the first flakes of sleet exploded and shimmiedacross the windscreen. Sander turned at the sound and she pointedat the metal grey clouds in the West, beckoning him back to theshelter of their car. He waved her away impatiently and lifted thebinoculars to his eyes again.

Cocooned warmly inside the buffeted Mazda, she wished hewould finish what he was doing and return. Sander stood on theedge of the grass covered hill in the trees, straining and leaning intothe cutting wind. Watching, waiting for something to happen.

She thought of all the nightmares he'd suffered.

The last, the other night, had been the worst of many, so far. He'dbeen a much bigger man before all this had started. Now, in manyways, he was weak as a child. His strength sapping condition and hisnightmares had taken care of that and seemed to have awakened agripping uncertainty in his ageing bones.

His grey streaked hair and beard matched the slush colour of hisskin and he still looked heavy, but not nearly as solid as he had been

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in the past. The gradual weight loss had suited him at first and he'dbeen feeling much better because his knees and ankles hurt a lot less.Then he sailed past his ideal weight three months ago with ease. Sixweeks on the racking pain in his back had cut his usual six feet by afew inches and Mary finally convinced him he should go see hisdoctor.

Of course he was scared. Especially the racking sound of his dawnchorus cough. But his appetite was great and although he was eatinglike a horse he admitted to her he was scared shitless. He'd lost sixtypounds in the last six months but had aged the same in years, in hereyes, at the same time.

Now, with the knowledge of two hospital results and last weeksdoctors appointment locked firmly in his mind every waking minute,his grey skin had seemingly become stretched tighter over hisskeleton. The illness squeezed the meat off his bones like someonerecently buried and he spiralled downwards, into shadows of theman she once knew. It hurt her gravely but there was not a thing shecould do about it.

For the past year or so he'd been eating for two. Only this babywas not a friendly one. It didn't stop growing nine months later andcome out crying; wanting it's own air and space in the world. No, itstayed where it was like a parasite and dined on it's host. My host shethought. I'm married to a lovely man who's a disease ridden larder forinoperable cancer. Sander was the only person in her entire life whodidn't need her to be strong for him and she didn't want to lose him.But she was going to. And soon. They had always been each otherspillar of strength in years passed but now that strength wasdisintegrating rapidly away from him with each breath and she knewthat some time in the near future, she was going to be alone.

Abruptly aroused from a deep sleep three nights ago she'dshouted and cried at him to please stop while he frantically punchedand kicked the bedroom air, bellowing at an unknown, unseenassailant. He came out of it at last, soaked in sweat, exhausted,realising yet again it was just another nightmare. Drenched andtrembling he collapsed to his knees in tears. Same tears as always.Life, there for living and no time left.

He could not and would not, come to terms with his sickness andrefused all offers of help. She'd lost count the number of times they'dended on the floor, rocking, cuddled together in their quilt, tryingnot to make plans for a future that would soon end. She knew he

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would never give up and she worried about him, knowing his strongreserves of stamina would only make his pain worse in the future.

Sander Thomson angrily insisted he had to go back to Milltown,one way or the other and she had no say in it. He would go back,with or without her. It was her choice. She didn't often fight with herman but he was desperately ill and she talked to him, cajoled himand, in the end the discussion had taken on an uncontrollable life ofit's own and grew to a rare, full blown shouting match.

Her husband hadn't slept at any time during the three nights sincethe nightmare and he was exhausted. She knew he tried to sleep butshe always felt him get up and found him reading in the living roomwhen the sun came up. Since that night he'd taken to sleepingduring daylight, dozing uncomfortably in a chair, all because he wasscared to close his eyes in the dark. Mary grew accustomed to himmoving around their apartment in the small hours over the pastweeks. She patiently waiting for him, knowing he would eventuallycome to her as he always did. Yesterday he reluctantly got round totelling her the truth.

During and after his explanation her mind conjured a pair ofextremely large fluorescent hands, sky blue and bodiless, floating inthe dark bedroom, coming to get her. He'd been defending her, asalways.

She used to laugh his dreams away and would tease him aboutwhy, when she did dream, which wasn't all that often, it was alwaysin black and white. And how come he always dreamt 'virtual realitywide screen colour with quadraphonic sound.'

But it had become too serious to ignore recently and the joking hadstopped. What was happening to him bordered on breakdown.

Now that he knew he was dying he was fighting an unfightablebattle and wouldn't give in. Not too something he couldn't see. Thetears and anguish over the last half year when he'd the nightmares.He'd always been in control of his life in the past.

Now, 'it' controlled him.

Getting on for fifty had taken its toll, especially cartilage trouble inhis knees, and his bronchial chest. Now this. He knew he should havestopped smoking years ago, when he always talked about it. Now histime was limited. She sometimes wondered guiltily what would takehim first. The Breakdown or the Big C.

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CHAPTER 2

Her husband could see the whole area had been changedradically. Bulldozed flat, drained and top soiled. Smooth green grassgrew on most of it.

Sander Thomson could just about remember where his lastchildhood friend had died. He sensed through the binoculars, morethan saw, where it was. The place was buried under the red ashfootball park.

When he screwed up his eyes and closed his mind to the echoingbabble of schoolchildren pushing up through the wind and rain fromthe play area below, he remembered clearly that period in hischildhood with sharp edges.

Looking down on the drab concrete spread of the railway goodsyards and his old junior school with it's web of neighbouring, treelined streets, he thought how easy it was to imagine having astumbled search through a Victorian attic and blundering into thistired old train set from long ago.

He shivered in the sleet and scanned the toy town scene belowhim, panning slowly north,

“Railway shunting yards still relatively busy,” he thought, “-in spiteof the cutbacks, job losses and privatisation, They've demolished thebig concrete coal scuttle though; and closed the turntable.”

He reflected with warm happiness the hours he and his pals usedto spend in long hot summer grass watching the giant steamlocomotives turn to collect emptied wagons.

He remembered a faraway Friday when his father, confusinglydressed in his good weekend white shirt, and clean smelling workingoveralls for a change, had shook him awake from a deep happysleep.

It had happened two weeks before his eighth birthday and theearly February wind whistled mournfully across the tight valley, underthe eaves of their new home in the cold morning dark.

“C'mon son,” he said quietly, shaking his youngest, “-it's time toget up if you want to see the Union leave. Be quiet as a mouse oryou'll wake up Billy.”

Sander moaned again. He turned away from the hall lightspraying the room from the open door and drew his knees up to his

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chest when the covers were thrown back. Mr. Thomson gave his sona playful slap on his night shirted backside and strolled quietly out ofthe bedroom whistling lightly on his way back downstairs forbreakfast.

The youngster swayed on the edge of the bed, feet dangling nearthe floor and rubbed gritted sleep out of his eyes with both hands.He shivered, contemplating the thick frost patterns on the inside ofhis bedroom window and the shiny hard cold linoleum that laybefore him all the way to the bathroom downstairs, closed his eyesagain for a few seconds on the edge of the bed and while he pulledhis night-shirted tight to his body he thought of crawling back underthe covers into the lovely warmth, just for a minute. By the time heflew across the room on tip toe and down the stairs, every inch of hisskin was covered in goose bumps.

Sander flushed the toilet, got rid of his father's old collarless shirtand plunged both hands and face into the wash basin. The warmwater his mother left him was a luxury and he dried and dressed indouble quick time then walked sleepily through the living roomtowards the warm smell of the kitchen seeing his father lace up hismetal capped work boots.

“Morning Da',” he said as he passed. Sander noticed his old manhad trod a clean polished work boot on the arm of the settee to tiehis laces but decided to keep quiet.

“ If that was me doing that,” he thought, “-I'd get a thick ear.”

He knew if he said something about it he'd still get a thick ear, sohe said nothing and kept walking.

His father started a reply but fought a cough instead. Hastilyremoving the third or fourth cigarette of the morning from hismouth, Sander watched as an inch or so of ash floated towards thefireside rug.

Willie Thomson coughed loudly again and an oily rag appearedout of nowhere, quickly covering his mouth. The next hack was longand breathless and Sander didn't think his father was ever going toinhale again.

Willie Thomson wheezed his cheeks full and crouched, red faced,over the fire guard, the loud sizzle from the coals signalling theevaporation of the discharge. He spat again and relaxed back in hisarmchair, retrieving the still glowing cigarette from the tiled hearth ashe did so and took a long slow puff while he put his head back torelax.

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“-that's much better Sander,” he stated, “-always get your tubescleared first thing in the morning. It sets you up for the rest of theday.”

He smiled a rare one at Sander and gestured him to the kitchenwith his hand, composure fully reinstated,

“-away you and get your porridge son-,” he said breathlessly, “-we'll have to leave in ten minutes or so to catch the six o'clocktramcar at the bottom of Ashfield St.”

Half way through breakfast Sander heard the front door open withit's peculiar metallic scraping sound.

“I'm away Lizzie. I'll see you at tea time,” his father shouted at hiswife from the hall, “-do you think that son of yours wants to see thelatest engine I've built?” Sander panicked, grabbed the last piece oftoast and jammed it between his teeth,

“Coming Da,” he shouted,“-I'm just putting my shoes on.”

The youngster hopped on one leg to the living room door andshouted after his father, “-I'll catch you up before you get to theDummy bridge.”

The front door closed and he heard his fathers heavy footstepsfade down the path. “You better get a move on son,” his motheramplified what Sander already knew, “-you know he won't wait foryou!”

Sander finished tying his laces and zipped up his new Dan Darejacket. It was supposed to be for his birthday but his mother let himwear it, just this once, for the special occasion. She came around thetable and criticised him with her eyes while she smoothed his collarand finger-combed his hair back off his forehead.

“You'll do,” she said and smiled, “-just you mind keep yourselfclean and do what you're told-,”

She fussed a bit more than usual, touching here, tucking there, “-your father's work is a big place for a boy your age. And dangeroustoo. So you mind listen to what he tells you.”

Lizzie Thomson handed Sander one of her husband's old lunchtins with sandwiches and a couple of biscuits inside and a wrappedsurprise.

Her purse came out and she pressed half a crown into his hand, “-Get yourself a drink and a sandwich in the works canteen at teno'clock with your Da' and I'll see you in the bakery at twelve.”

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She turned Sander around by the shoulders, pointed him at theback door and playfully skelped his backside.

“Now scoot!”

When they arrived at Vulcan St in Springburn, Sander was shownwhere to stand outside the main gate of his dad's factory and warnednot move an inch until his old man got back. He had a vaguerecollection of some woman placing her hands on his shoulders andhis father talking to her with a twinkle in his eye and then he was off.He had to help supervise the start of Union of South Africa's journeythrough north Glasgow to the Clyde docks.

Sander still didn't have a clue what the 'Union' was but was waryenough of his father’s temper to do as he was told in this strangedirty street. It was all grey buildings, chipped pavements and darkwindows. Not a blade of grass in sight. The only colour in the entirestreet were pole-strung decorations and a red window box, full ofyellow flowers, high above him on the top floor of the tenementopposite.

He opened his surprise package from the dinner tin and found hismother had made him up a small bottle of milk and given him one ofher treacle currant scones spread with fresh butter for tea-break.

While he ate he looked up at the colourful bunting and banners.He remembered the noise and screech of whistles and works klaxonsand the strong odour of cigarettes and whisky that came from hisfathers sweating skin, even at that time in the morning.

Giant green wooden gates creaked open slowly and the crowdlining the street ooohed and aaahed in anticipation, then cheeredhysterically, as a deep dark green polished steel, iron and brassmonster roll-crept, on tram rails, out of the engine works atop anenormously wide wooden carriage.

Sander stood transfixed by the locomotive as it snailed past himand the others. Two hundred tons of 'Union of South Africa'thundered slowly past his open mouth and wide eyes, towering overhim and shaking every bone in his body until the earth seemed tosway.

A few minutes later the rumble of thunder that had brokenthrough the soles of his shoes, giving his legs pins and needles, fadedas the procession went on it's way down Springburn Rd., towards theClyde docks and the African Gold Coast.

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When his old man came back he'd laughed heartily at theexpression on his son's face. The desired effect had happened theway he thought it would.

After the excitement Mr. Thomson took Sander into the factoryand introduced him to some of his work mates. The loud horn at teabreak made Sander jump and he had a picnic with these blackenedfaced, laughing and greasy boiler suited giants among the oil andgrease at his first ever manly meeting. It was the one and only timein his life Sander could remember his father ever taking himanywhere.

He shook his head in the wind and his mind pulled him back.

“The Seven Bridges still look solid enough. Chirnside School aswell. Kids seem happy enough, wonder if they know? I hope to Godthey don't. Playing fields sealed our old haunt the 'Marshy'. Wheresome of it happened....”

It had been wet for ages and it was getting colder. Puddles wereforming below in the fields he looked at today for the first time innearly 40 years.

“Feels strange and weird to be back and everything's so muchsmaller.” He said to himself, “-the hours and miles we used to play askids. If I was fit now I could walk the area in minutes.”

On, refocussing. Up the hill where they'd sledged in wet wintersnows. “-

Everybody between the ages of eight and fifteen years turned out onTin -Town Hill when the snow was just right. We used to spend hoursand hours running up the slippy slopes and quick seconds comingback down again.”

Even after forty years the scar across the pinkie of his right handthrobbed gently to remind him of the time he almost lost his fingerunder the steel runners of his sledge.

“We used to have a 'den' up there as well, in the summer. They'vecut down most of the bushes and trees. Still, they were great days.Exciting days.” “[Crying days and dangerous years],” his memoryreminded him.

Sander hesitated when he reached the Glasgow-Aberdeen rail line,

“Can just about make out the old quarries through the trees, orwhat's left of them that is. Filled in and landscaped.” He thought tohimself, “-modern regimented boxes standing guard over regimentedstreets.”

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He was thinking about the relentless desire planners had tochange things, even though what was working usually worked welland didn't need to be changed from where most people stood.

He panned slowly back toward the Marshy, past the puddles onthe football field. Lots of rubbish, whole area looking run down; cokecans, cardboard boxes, lollipop wrappers and stuff, newspapers,sticks and stones, '...break your bones…'

As the years moved on he'd wondered what the place might looklike to old eyes, but had never made time to go back and see. Untilnow that is.

“No Sander, it wasn't finding the time to go back, was it?” Hethought to himself, “-It was finding the courage to go back, wasn'tit?” Over past years, he'd driven past the edge of where he grew up;but always past. Now the view from where he stood brought backlost memories. Nearly every close childhood friend he'd ever had wasdead.

Jimmy, the last at 12 years old, was lost forever in the miresomewhere under that same playing field. The police and authoritiesdrained it and found nothing other than peaty mud, like quicksand inthe movies, that went to forever. Jimmy's body was never found.

He caught himself pointing as if showing an unseen companion.He found he was holding his breath while Déjà vu teased distantly athis nostrils..

Memories of sweet smelling blood and claustrophobia swayed inhis head while a white hand fought it's way out of the soil. Dripping,covered in old dark dried blood, oozing wetness. Wrapped around itwas a thick root. Black, glistening, powerful. Pulling down. In the fisthe thought he saw something.

“Looks like a watch.” He shouted out, immediately embarrassedby his outburst. Clutched hard in white bloodless knuckles was thetimepiece he'd lent Jimmy all these years ago.

“[Here, take it! Take it back Sander. But come and help us.]” avoice shouted in his head.

“Jimmy's voice?” His own shouted in disbelief and he fought tohold the thought but it was too far and too many years away.

Struggling to focus through the sleet he rubbed at his eyes andblinked quickly a few times.

“Clean the lenses. God!…” he shouted louder this time, “-It isJimmy, isn't it? Quick, find the place again Sander. Hurry. -For God'ssake hurry!”

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The pain in his lower chest came slowly, as he knew it would.When his eyes came back into focus he saw a small torn tree branch,storm-bound in a deep pool of water. It's topsail was a ragged pieceof supermarket bag that held on wearily, chattering briskly in thewind. He remembered the puzzled look of awe in Jimmy's eyes as hesunk slowly away from him beneath the dark icy water of the Marshyand knew it would be in his nightmares until the day he died.

'The Marshy' pond was one of their favourite haunts. It was only 2or 3 metres at its deepest but he remembered clearly the horror thelast time he saw Jimmy Sutherland staring back at him. Fighting forair through the reed laced ice. Arms wind milling as he churned quietsilt under thick brown water, trying to escape the monster only heand his pals could see.

Jimmy's pleading mouth throwing out silent bubbled screams ofgreen water. Unknown dark plants forming into tangled fists andtightening their hold round his chest and throat. Jimmy swallowedand slowly coughed peaty sludge many times before he sankmotionless away with the black shadow and disappeared into thedarkness.

For years afterwards Sander dreamt about this time in hischildhood a lot. He didn't think much of the nightmares in his teensas the memories faded but he knew his early years had eaten away athis ability to feel for other people.

Both his mother and father were dead, as were Mary's parents. Hisbrother lived in Canada and he hadn't seen him for over twentyyears. One sister didn't want to know him since he remarried and hisoldest sister Cathy, who lived a couple of miles away, saw him veryoccasionally.

Other than Mary, his own children and the three grandchildren,he didn't seem to be able to, or want to, care deeply for anybodyelse. He was sure it had been knocked out of him in those shortyears.

The sleet suddenly whipped to hailstones from the west andstrummed heavily on his broken golf brolly beside him while moreechoes of the past unfolded in his mind. He shivered uncontrollablyand turned the binoculars towards the faraway screams of thechildren in the playground as they scampered noisily indoors out ofthe stinging torrent.

Stoatin' white rain, his mother called it. He allowed himself a smilewhen he remembered the old days when he and his pals used to

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catch it and eat it before it had a chance to melt. That was when itwas clean and not full of acid for killing trees.

He remembered the good times he used to spend with his ownchildren, playing in the snow; building snowmen and the great fightsthey used to have. Now they were grown up and married or withpartners.

Regret rubbed at his mind about the times he hadn't spent, andprobably wouldn't spend, with unborn grandchildren from his ownkids. The memories he still wanted to give them were hard to ignoreand another shiver racked his already shaking body and iced the backof his neck.

The few minutes of hail dusted everything with pale winter white.More than half the sports field was now under water.

“Typical Scottish weather for the middle of April,” he thoughtwhile watching the park get whiter, “-and no matter what drainagethey use on the park below, it'll still never stop my nightmares until Idraw my last breath."

He sighed heavily, kicked the useless umbrella across the hillside,turned angrily and slipped on smooth shoes and his worn knees upthe greasy embankment towards his wife. He hurried to throw hisdrenched coat into the back and climbed into the drivers seat.

“Damned rain, always plays up my rheumatics.” he observed toMary for the millionth time. Shivering uncontrollably he fumbled andlit the cigarette Mary had left for him in the ash tray.

“Stop shaking you old fool. Its the middle of frigging Spring andyou're shaking like a 3 year old who just wet himself.”

He drew in deeply and let out a long smoky sigh. For once hemanaged to fight the obligatory urge to cough. The beginning of aheadache formed and it tapped annoyingly on the front door of hismind.

“You okay?” Mary stretched out a cool hand and felt his forehead

“Yes love, I'm fine thanks.”

Sander sighed and turned his head to look at her. “God, after allthese years I'm still deeply in love with your brown eyes.” he thought.

She noticed there wasn't much conviction in his reply. He wassomewhere else again. He took her outstretched hand in his.

“It's changed so much,” he said, nodding in the direction of theschool, “-yet it's exactly as I remember it.”

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When he stopped shivering and warmed up he found he wasstaring through infinity past the sleet blurred screen. The first realhome he could remember was a couple of hundred feet below, half amile away as the crow flew from where he'd parked the car. Thefoggy memory grew rapidly and became crystal clear.

The boulder his father and brother found in the back gardensoared into his mind and raised old feelings of fear and revenge.“Good God,…' he said to her, “…I haven't thought about that inover 40 years.”

“What?”

“The boulder,” he replied, “…they dug up a big boulder from ourgarden when we first moved in to the housing scheme in 1949.”

It was only when Sander was much older and in his teens and hadcollected references from other folks' lives to judge by, that hedecided he wanted to know the truth about his childhood andSkinny.

Thinking back, it was probably at the time of the boulder that 'it'all started but there was nobody he knew left alive who might knowthe truth. The nausea of the memory changed quickly to anger andpain, both rising at the same time, fertilising a cramp in his chest thatcaused an almost full cigarette of ash to fall to his lap.

No longer cold, he released his white-knuckle grip on the steeringwheel and gunned the engine. He checked his mirrors and reversedtoo quickly off the grass onto the street. The car skidded slightly as itsrear wheels thumped heavily off the opposite pavement.

Mary threw him a look of fear mixed with disguised worry butunderstood his quick temper. She laid her hand gently on his armwhile he fought with the shift and frustration to find the right gear.

He jammed the stick into first and slowly pulled away from thestreet overlooking Milton and decided, against Mary's betterjudgement, to search for somewhere for them to stay the night.

“One night, just one night…” he thought, “…just one night for mypals. They would expect it.”

A single tear got held up in his beard as it fought its way throughthe grey towards his chin.

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CHAPTER 3

The Thomson's moved from Bridgeton to Milton in early 1950when Sander was nearly eight. He was youngest in a family of sixchildren and at the end of the war, still the bairn of those four leftalive; himself, a big brother and two older sisters.

He was hazily sure he should have had two other women in hislife but remembered them only as visitors to the Thomson home inBridgeton, rather than kin folk. He didn't know much about themexcept they had died. At the time of her death Margaret would havebeen the oldest of the Thomson children at seventeen years.

Just before the end of the night shift in a Clydebank clothingfactory a cluster of stray bombs, intended for the biggest shipyard onthe river Clyde decided to pick a juicer target and whistled a quartermile across the water, blowing her and her fellow machinists intofresh air.

His other sister Janet was a real mystery to him. The family never,ever openly discussed her death but he heard snippets over the firstyears of his life that she would have been five years old on her nextbirthday had she lived.

In 1930 Willie Thomson, out of work for two years, managed toget himself a job with Glasgow Corporation Cleansing department asa scaffie come relief driver on a refuse collection cart. He'd neverdriven a team of horses before but bluffed and lied desperatelybecause his family had to eat.

The collection route took them past his close mouth in Slatefieldstreet and he harried and pushed the first driver to let him take thereins. Bursting with pride that first morning he clattered the shirehorses and his vehicle carefully into the cobbled street, his wholefamily rushing out to cheer him.

Janet, his favourite, barefoot in her flowery dress and bubble hat,her long red tresses flowing out behind her as she tried to keep up,ran beside them shouting and laughing at the men and theenormous, beautiful horses towering above her. That happy, sunnymorning was to be the beginning of a dark life for Willie Thomsonwhen his child tripped, stumbled and fell beneath the iron rimmedrear wheels of the heavy cart as it rounded Slatefield Street into theGallowgate. Her tiny, fragile body never had a chance and itdestroyed her father. Willie Thomson never took control of a vehicleagain for thirty years.

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Nobody in the family was allowed to talk about it and his old mangrew another, final layer in his destiny to becoming a tyrant like hisown father had been.

Willie Thomson was the second oldest of five brothers and a sisterat the turn of the century and his old man was a strict Victoriandisciplinarian and beat the hell out of them for the smallest error inwhat he saw as correct behaviour, and so naturally, the patternrepeated itself to his own children.

When he got older Sander thought he understood some of thereasons why his father was so hard. Didn't condone it, butunderstood. Then again, throughout the years his older sisters andbrother told him many times he was lucky he'd missed most of theworst things that had happened in, and to the family.

When they moved to Milton all their furniture and household bric-a-brac were stacked by friends and relatives on the back of a flat-topcoal delivery lorry and it chugged away from Nuneaton Street to thecheers and goodwill of his family's long-time neighbours.

Sander's mother and his sister Janette held back to clean and lockup the old two room and kitchen, before returning the keys to thecompany landlord in the next street. The women then escorted abemused seven year old from his old home in the tenements ofBridgeton, through a back close, some side streets and onto the mainthoroughfare of the Gallowgate that led to Glasgow city centrewhere they waited on the wet pavement for an electric tramcar.

The adults saw a No16. to Springburn approach and his sistersnatched his hand tightly, leading him onto the middle of thecobbled street and he wondered what the two rows of polished steelstrips were for.

A high pitched threatening hum of metal on metal made him lookalong the line of the rails and in the distance he spied a one eyed,yellow and brown monster looming towards him and hid behind hissister's coat, terrified of the hissing, electric sparks being thrown fromthe top of it's head. It clanged and swayed nearer them, growinglarger by the second. Sander felt the cobbles under his feet vibrateand began to fret with fear.

“What's the matter with you son?”

Sander looked up at his mother and bubbled incoherently,pointing at the giant vehicle that threatened to run him over. Hismother looked in the direction of the tram and shook her head,tutting,

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“Don't be silly, ya' wee daftie. It's only a tramcar. It'll no do youany harm as long as you stay back from the rails.”

When it lurched and slowed past them to a halt he was picked upand jostled up a winding metal staircase into the nose of the leatherseated tram.

The three of them sat upstairs and had the front saloon cabin tothemselves. He saw his sister lift and pull on a leather belt thatcontrolled the window and she slid the wooden frame open, so hecould feel the wind on his face. The excited youngster rested his chinon crossed arms, his attention glued to the route all the way toGlasgow Cross, onto and along Argyll Street, under the 'HighlandersUmbrella' and past the Kelvin Hall and Art Galleries.

He watched the sights and sounds of Glasgow slowly sway past,taking it all in, especially the red leather smells of the trams and theGlasgow noise and bustle which stayed with him a long time and,along with the dozens of cheap penny journeys he and his pals madeduring their summer school holidays and on week-ends from Miltonto Calderpark Zoo, he kept the fond memories of tramcars in hishead for years.

The tram turned north past a big hospital, clanged noisily besidethe Botanical Gardens and finally the last few uphill miles broughtthem to the terminus outside a giant steel works in Saracen next toPossilpark tram Depot.

Then another flummoxed, breathless drag to the top of ArcherhillStreet. It was a long, hard slog for a seven-and-a-half year old. By thetime they reached the brow his wellingtons were chaffing sorely atangry shins and sweat was running down his back in rivulets.

When they climbed the steep, snaking hill and passed over whathe and his pals would call the Dummy railway bridge he noticed animmediate change in his mother's attitude as she left the slum yearsof Glasgow behind her forever. She'd been looking forward with allher heart to moving into a newly built, modern home for months.

She approached the brow that overlooked Milton and could seenothing but rain-cleared blue skies, green trees, fields and cleanhouses. Both women grinned broadly, gave gasps of realisation at thesame time and hugged and danced with each other and a ratherperplexed Sander.

No more factories with belching chimneys. No more noisy darkpubs, foul language and fights to contend with outside theirwindows every weekend. Sander's mother had been on the

19

Corporation housing list for more than twenty years and she wassincerely overjoyed when asked if she would consider a house in thenew Milton estate.

The new scheme was one of the first to take the spill overpopulation of a demolishing Glasgow. It was the first time she wouldhave running hot water and a bathroom to call her own and it hadtaken a lot to convince her husband to get him to agree to the moveaway from his roots and drinking dens.

The women sauntered down the tree lined street ingesting theglow and the cleanliness of the country air. Sander dragged a fewyards behind, his tired child paces struggling to keep up.

He asked yet again where they were going. His feet rub-burned atthe top of cheap wellingtons and he was needing a 'sit down' toilet.Lizzie and Janette Thomson nattered excitedly and mostly ignoredthe drone of Sander's whining.

Janette stopped and he caught up. “-but Janette-,” he pulled ather sleeve for the hundredth time, “-where are we going? Will we getthere soon?”

“We're nearly there Sander. Stop asking so many questions.”

She was a good bit overweight and was breathing hard after thethree-quarter mile climb from the tram stop. She grabbed his hand,pulling him along with her as she waddled after her mother.

“We'll be at the house in five minutes or so, so stop your moaningor I'll give you a thick ear.”

“What house?” Sander was puzzled. “-are we visiting somebody?”

“It's a surprise,” Janette said guiltily and looked at her mother forguidance.

Mrs. Thomson nodded, “Ach - you can tell him now,” she said, “-we're almost there.”

“We've got a new house,” boasted his sister, “-and it's got a biggarden all around for you to play in and mothers got a brand newkitchen.” Sander didn't understand what was going on.

“Have we flitted?” he asked. His mother confirmed with a deep,tired sigh of contentment and was unable to keep the widening grinoff her face

“Aye son,” she nodded, “-we've got the hell out of Bridgeton atlast.”

20

“What about my pals,” he asked fearfully, “-an' my school. Whatabout my school pals?”

“You'll soon make new pals son…” his mother wasn't reallylistening to him, “…and you'll be going to a new school as well.”

He protested but his questions fell on deaf ears.

When the trio turned the corner into Ashford Road Sander spottedthe blue flat top at the bottom of the road on the corner. He grabbedat his mothers sleeve again.

“Look, there's Billy and Da',” he shouted, his past life immediatelyforgotten. Sure enough the two men of the house were lifting thelast piece of the furniture off the back of the lorry. The three tiredwalkers approached quickly and Willie Thomson let go his corner ofthe settee to wave a greeting.

He just managed to re-grab an end before it contacted thepavement. Nineteen year old Billy and his dad were red facedsweating. They'd done a good job. All the major bits of furniture,none of it in showroom condition but was theirs, were in the rightplaces and spaces. If Willie had read his wife's instructions correctlythat is. And it'd been done before she arrived, as he'd planned withBilly.

Sander ran ahead and shot up the path, mounted the fourconcrete steps to the open front door and disappeared inside.Seconds later his head reappeared at the door, a look of totalconfusion in his eyes.

“What rooms mine?' he yelled excitedly at no one in particular, “-this house has got great big wooden stairs all of it's own.”

The rest of the family settled around the settee at the front door.They heard Sander's echoed footfalls clumping over the bare floorboards of the upstairs bedrooms. A few seconds later they werefollowed by a loud crump when Sander launched himself off thefourth step of the bare stairway into the hall.

“That's enough o' that Sander,” Lizzie Thomson called over hershoulder, “-you'll break your neck.” Sander stuck his head out of thedoorway,

“Billy-y!” he yelled again, this time at the top of his voice. He hadthe look of a boy in total shock. He stood wide eyed and pointedwhen his brother approached the doorway.

“My God, Billy, look, there's an enormous bath in there and it'sstuck to the floor.”

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Willie Thomson coughed and spluttered when he laughed, tossinghis finished cigarette stub into the garden.

“Oi!, We'll have less of that swearing young yin.” he shouted, “assoon as we're finished unloading the dishes and things you'll begetting shoved in it to get cleaned up.”

Everybody laughed when Sander's eyebrows shot up in realisationat his father's plans and then in the direction of the bathroom.

“No way Da.'” he shouted. He jumped the front steps to the pathand skeedaddled around the back of the house for furtherexploration.

“Don't you disappear son,” his mother shouted after him, “-we'llbe having something to eat soon.” Lizzie Thomson lifted herselfwearily but happily off the couch, “Well,” a delightfully tired voicewith a grin to match said, “-I suppose we'd better get a move on.”

The laughter and banter still tickled his ears when Sander skiddedto a halt on the white chip speckled bitumen path round the back ofthe house. The rear garden was enormous and behind it was thebiggest field he'd ever seen in his whole life.

It went on and on and on into the distance as far as he could see.And the tall grass, it swayed and rippled like golden waves in thesunshine. It was as big as the house in his eyes. Well, bigger than himanyway by at least a foot. The back of his mind asked him if therewere any wild animals living in it. He cautiously walked over to therusty fence that had seen better days but still doing it's job, mainlydue to the two rows of barbed wire strung along the topmost strand.

Carefully placing his hands between the jaggers he climbed ontothe ordinary wire that laced the bottom rungs. Stretching as tall as hecould he still couldn't see over the grass. He climbed the last rustyplain wire and slowly stretched again. Not so far away he could see along grey, seven pillared iron bridge, stretching away in the distance.Behind it, steam rose wispily from lots of smoke stacks.

“Trains! Wow! We live next to trains!”

He yelled and gave a whoop of delight which made him losebalance. His hands and feet jerked back and forth under him a fewtimes, like an unbalanced circus high wire act. He thought of thebarbed wire and grabbed at the dried out moss covered post to hisleft. Mistake.

The rotted wood cranched and gave way, tumbling him head overbreakfast time into the field. Banging his face hard, his nose felt as if

22

had exploded and he almost cried but fought the urge by tellinghimself explorers were made of stronger stuff.

Tentatively he opened his eyes and got up, wiped away blood thattrickled from his nose on his bare arm and looked around him. Hecouldn't see anything else but thick straw coloured grass all aroundand a cloudless blue sky above. When he spat, the copper taste in hisdry mouth frightened him a little, but he continued with hisadventure. Crouching down as small as he could he delved deeperinto the golden grass,

the pain in his face forgotten and played at being lost in Africa.

Pushing his way through dense jungle a warning came from hisimagination that he had to be ready for wild animals but especiallythe tribe of Zulu's he heard lived in this part of the jungle. He waslucky when he picked up an axe he found lying nearby.

Hefting it expertly in his left hand he nodded slowly to himself toconfirming the perfect balance he felt.

“Must have been dropped by some explorers they captured,” hesaid to himself confidently. Sander stalked through the jungle holdingthe stick ready. It didn't take him long to fight his way about six milesthrough the coarse foliage and he was wondering how far he wouldget before nightfall when he heard a screeching, high pitched howl.It sounded as if an animal was dying a long, painful death. The shiverup his back chilled his neck hair and he immediately became still. Theboy's knees quickly hit the brown soil and he crouched again, hopingthat whatever caused the blood curling noise, was upwind of him.

A cold black shadow fell over him and he looked up into the sky.The first lumps of rain fell on his face as a massive white edged blackcloud obliterated the sun then the noise of the downpour slappinginto the long grass became deafening. He was alone and soaked tothe skin in a matter of seconds as trickles of fear caressed his drythroat and he wanted nothing more than to get out of the wind andrain and back to his family.

He coughed as quietly as he could and spat onto the path he hadbeen cutting through the farmer's field, his nosebleed having stoppeda few minutes earlier and turned back to his house.

“San-derr!” Billy shouted for him.

“San-derr!” Billy again.

“I'm stuck Billy!” Sander shouted, his voice a little scared.

“Sanderrrrr, where are you?”

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He heard Billy's tone changed to impatience and his imaginationbecame reality, making his heart beat a little faster in his chest whenhe realised his brother couldn't see him.

“Over here!” Sander answered cautiously, fear taking over. At thesame time he was thinking what the terrible screaming could havebeen.

“Sander, where the heck are you?” Billy was beginning to loosepatience with him. The train whistle blew again. “I'm over here,”Sander jumped up but didn't quite clear the height. Billy saw hisyoung brother's hair bob momentarily about fifty yards away thendisappear again into the wheat and laughed out loud,

“You'd better get your backside out of that wheat field before thefarmer shoots you,” he shouted, “-C'mon, your dinners nearly ready.”He climbed up on the fence and tried to spot his young brotheragain but only saw the wind moving across the tops of the wheat likewaves. He tried again.

“Shake some stalks hard Sander and I'll come in and get you.”

Sander pushed his way through the wheat in the direction ofBilly's voice and saw his brother's head sticking up as he stood tall onthe fence.

“C'mon you wee bugger, my dinners getting cold.”

Billy was laughing while Sander continued his difficult pushthrough the wheat and finally he emerged from the cereal on hishands and knees. His clothes were covered in loose earth and grassand he was out of puff with only a few feet to the fence. Stronghands grabbed him, dusted him off and soon he was on top of hisbrothers shoulders. They kidded and laughed their way back acrossthe raw earth of the back garden to the kitchen door at the rear oftheir new house.

Lizzie Thomson had her second wind and was cooking happilyaway at her new stove whilst Janette got the table ready for dinner.The boys horse played their way into the kitchen and Lizzie'scontented aura changed rapidly into a worried frown in the steam offthe pots. She turned quickly at the noise of the door opening,instantly saw their feet and thrust an open palm in their faces.

“HEY! STOP you two!” she shouted, “-Just hold it right there.”

The boys froze in the middle of their sparring contest and lookeddown to where there mother was now pointing.

“Don't you dare,” she threatened, “-don't you dare put a foot into

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this kitchen until you get your filthy shoes off!” She grabbed a wetwashcloth from the sink and tossed it over to Billy. He caught itcasually one handed at eye level and got drenched for his skill.Sander turned away sniggering.

“Oh, you think it's funny do you -?”

Billy grabbed him, throwing an arm around his neck, rubbing thedirty washcloth all over his face. Sander wriggled away and drew theback of his hand across his mouth in disgust. He dry spat a couple oftimes and cried out to his mother in his moaniest voice,

“Aw Maw-awe! Tell him to leave me alone. That rag's stinking.”He continued dry spitting imaginary dirt.

“You're both filthy,” reprimanded Lizzie, “-get those shoes off atonce and go and get cleaned up when your father comes out thebathroom.”

She turned back to the stove, banged her fist on the kitchen wallabove the cooker and shouted, “Bill - your dinners nearly ready.”

“Aye, Aye. Just coming.”

They heard muffled splashes as the head of the family got out ofthe tub through the wall. Sander squealed with laughter again whenBilly grabbed him a second time and tickled him to the floor.

“Stop it, you two,” Lizzie shouted, the heat in the kitchen makingher irritated “…for goodness sake behave yourselves.”

Billy wrestled his young brother onto the linoleum covered floor,the youngster trying hard to squirm away. Too late. Billy pinned himdown and kept tickling him until the laughter hurt and he wasgasping for breath.

“No - No - C'mon Billy - No - No -Stop ittt!” Sander's highpitched screams would have cut glass.

“What-the-bloody-hells-going-on-here?” their father's voiceboomed. An after bath Willie Thomson glowed clean in theliving room doorway. Billy stopped what he was doing. Immediately.

“You!” A finger pointed then crooked in his direction, “-C'mere!”

The women watched the colour drain from Billy's face.

Lizzie spoke first, “Bill-?”

Her husband secretly winked at her. She relaxed.

“I wasn't doing anything wrong Dad, honest,” Billy's voice shook.

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“C'mere I said!” he spoke quieter, slower, “…and - don't - you -damn - well - argue - about - it.”

Billy walked toward him as slowly as he dared, head and shouldersslumping. “Turn around.” his father ordered, an index finger cuttinga circle in the air in front of his son's eyes.

“Wha-?” Billy choked on the sentence.

“Turn around I said.”

No give-away expression on his face or in his eyes. Sanderdragged a sliver of courage up from somewhere and stammeredquietly to his father, pleading for leniency for his brother, “-he wasn'tdoing anything Da - honest,” he mumbled. “-we were only playing.”

He didn't look directly into his father's face either. Willie Thomsonjust pursed his lips and slowly shook his head from side to side.Sander knew there was nothing to be done.

“This is what happens to people who don't do as they're told.”

Billy cringed slightly, expecting a whack on the head or somethingworse. Instead his father winked at the rest of them and jammed asoaking wet cold bath sponge down the back of Billy's shirt collar,grabbed him around the chest from behind and wrestled himtowards the ground.

“Get him Sander,”

Willie shouted and tumbled along with his oldest son onto thefloor. Sander flew across the kitchen whooping with delight andrelief. His added weight carried the three of them playfully into theliving room, all arms and legs. Two minutes of wrestling, tickling andlaughter later Lizzie interrupted the macho display. She stood, handson hips, happily surveying her men on the floor.

“You're mince and doughballs are on the table if any of you areinterested.” Billy squeaked back at her through his brother's arms,tight around his neck,

“Hey Maw, could you put mine on a plate? I hate eating offwooden tabl-sss ” The rest of his reply was cut off when his old manstuffed the wet floor cloth deep into his mouth.

“Enough! C'mon you two, enough!” Willie cried out breathlesslyabove the ruckus. Billy crawled away from his fathers grasp andSander sat on the floor hiccuping. Both older men helped each otherto their feet laughing and headed for the kitchen.

“Come on Sander,” Billy jibed over his shoulder, “-you'll have to

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eat the lot, and more, if you want to put on some weight to fightus.”

Willie Thomson put an arm around his older son's shoulder andthey walked to the dinner table discussing the different wrestlingmoves they'd tried on each other.

After a great dinner things were cleared away and when most ofthe furniture was in place and the necessary clothing sorted out forthe morning's work they settled down in the living room to listen tothe radio.

Sander was allowed to stay up and listen to his favourite spacefiction adventure, The Red Planet, after the seven o'clock news on aFriday. He loved anything to do with science fiction, aeroplanes,spaceships and things and it was one of the rare occasions when allthe important people in his life were together at the one time as afamily.

While he lay in his usual position on the rug at the fire by hisparents feet the direct heat and flaring imaginary figures in theburning coal made him drowsy and he was asleep before the newsfinished.

Billy and his Dad went upstairs to clank bolt the family's metal bedframes together while the women unpacked wooden tea chests fullof bed linen and curtains and things.

Soon the frames were assembled and when their beds were madeup by the women Billy came quietly down stairs and carefully carriedhis snoring wee brother to his first night in Milltown.

Sander vaguely remembered being picked up and hearingsomeone distantly say something about the fresh, clean air getting toall of them.

During the next few weeks everybody in the house was kept busypainting and decorating every surface of the walls and ceilings. Thesmell of paint was so clean and fresh. Even his father laughed andjoked with the rest of them. Sander had great fun, finger drawingcartoons on the chalked out windows. God made the sun shine andlife was as good as it was going to get.

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CHAPTER 4

A few weekends after the move Sander's father and the rest of thefamily laboured hard, clearing site rubble and trash off the unevenwaste ground that sloped steeply away from the house up toSander's wheat field.

Previous plans they had made to dig it over and build some orderfrom the thick weed and stone covered chaos had been put off forvarious reasons, again and again, until a letter arrived from theCouncil reminding them of their obligation and contract of rental.

They had been hard at it since early the previous day and thewhole family, including Sander, decided to retire indoors only when itwas getting dark. Sore bones and stiff muscles the next morning tooktheir toll on the Thomson's and they all made various excuses to getback to the garden as late as possible. Late afternoon on Sunday theytook yet another pause from the heavy, back breaking work to havetheir umpteenth cup of tea and a sandwich.

Lizzie Thomson, her sweat soaked hair tucked under a mass ofrollers and a flowery head scarf complimented by one of her oldbaking aprons, looked like the archetypal fat Russian peasant woman.She sat heavily on the step at her back door and surveyed the workthey had done so far.

“Willie-,” she called tiredly to her husband lounged at the rear ofthe garden over their borrowed one wheeled barrow, “-this is goingto take us ages to finish it at this rate.”

“Aye. I know hen.” he answered quietly. His gaunt look and blackset eyes were a sign to her that her man was starting to feel thestrain of twelve hour shifts working at the factory and the gardening.

She'd been thinking about the problem for a while and decided itwas time to offer her usually unwelcome opinion on men's work. Thedaily clank of heavy landscaping machinery and powerfully revvingmotors from the building site across the road had tickled at an ideain her head all day yesterday and this morning.

“…see instead of us digging all that soil from the back of thegarden and trying to lift it by hand to the front, why don't we get-,”she threw her thumb in the direction of the building site, “…whydon't we get one of the drivers of they big machines to level it forus?” Her husband slowly shook his head,

“How much money have you got?”

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“Just a couple of pounds to see us through till you get yourwages.”

“Aye, I thought as much…” He shook his head a bit morevigorously, “…it would probably cost us at least a fiver…” heanswered sarcastically, “…and I haven't got anything to spare. Atleast not for some papist Irish labourer, who should have done it forus in first place.”

Sander's mother was told. Put in her place by the tone of herhusband's statement. “I just thought…” she tried again.

“Well, don't you bother thinking hen…” he interrupted, getting tohis feet, “…just you get on with the work I've given you and shutup.”

He scanned the rest of his family. “Right you lot,” he ordered, “-lets get back to work.” An hour later they came upon the biggestand heaviest of all the boulders. It was barely sticking up out of thepeaty soil. The others had been moved with the borrowedwheelbarrow but this one was something all together different.

The more they tried to excavate it, the bigger it got. Billy andWillie Thomson dug down to about waist level and it grew into an sixfoot grey monster. They realised it would take more than two orthree bodies to shift it. After sweating and swearing like a trooper forthree hours his old man finally decided he'd had enough and calledin the Irish experts.

The offer of thirty shillings soon encouraged a dozer driver off thebuilding site and he arrived, it seemed to Sander at the time, in agiant yellow steel insect. Nearly an hour later, after much cursing andshouting, the earth gave up it's chain bound package. The yellowbulldozer's strength was severely tested and it's engine strained andscreamed with effort but the rock released and came out of theground. And when it did it was with an unbelievably wet squelchingsound of air rushing into a muddy vacuum.

The smell that permeated the area around the hole wasdisgusting.

Neighbours and their children who had gathered to watch fellback as if a giant hand slapped them away. A sweet fetid odour aroselike an invisible phoenix out of the wounded earth, grabbingeverybody by the throat and made them gag and vomit. The holethey discovered beneath the boulder had previously been filled inwith all sorts of odds and ends of old rubble and bricks and had beenroughly cemented over.

29

The cement work was very old and cracked easily when the rockwas forced from the earth. Sander imagined he heard a barelyaudible hissing and gargling sound coming from the fissure whichseemed to laugh at him. An expression of confused fear on hisfather's face when he stared into the hole and then at his wife madeSander and look at his mother. She was walking cautiously towardsher husband and the hole in the ground, a tea towel over her mouthand nose.

“What is it Bill?” she asked through the cloth.

“-…don't know Lizzie,” he coughed a lie at her, “…it's awful, isn'tit?”

He'd come across that smell before and it was the smell of death.

In 1944 his unit in the Highland Light Infantry had fought hard inmuddy days to gain a few yards of farm buildings and trenches inBelgium. Under heavy artillery fire they 'dug in' and discovered aplatoon of enemy soldiers, entombed under the buildings in whatlooked like their unit's headquarters. They'd been interned for weeks.Direct hit by the looks of it. He turned to Billy and whispered,

“We'll cover it over for now. I'll bring home some stuff from worktomorrow and we can get on with the garden next weekend.”

Billy dry gagged through his sleeve, “What is it Da? Its stinking!”He felt he was going to be sick again.

“I don't know son. It could be anything. Maybe its an oldgraveyard or it could be the farmer who owned this land buriedsome cattle after that outbreak of foot and mouth. Remember, in1948? What ever it is, we'll cover it up and reseal it as soon as wecan.”

That night everybody in the house had nightmares.

Sander's was a tall skinny featureless man. Rippling slowly in andout of the shadows in his bedroom. There, but not there. Floatingtowards his bed. Climbing up. Kneeling astride him, hard on themuscles of his arms. Unbearable weight pinning him to the mattress.Sander tried to cry out because of the weight on his chest but thepain was so bad he couldn't breathe.

The iciness of the thing in black shineworn clothing with giantinsect-long arms spread over his entire body. It knelt cold on hisupper arms pushing the feeling out of his muscles.

He watched terrified as long freezing fingers interleaved in hisown and pinned him to the pillow. Malingky towered ten feet above

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Sander and slowly lowered itself, dripping some sort of slime,towards his face. He was scared to look into it's face but the terrifyingsmell drew his attention around and he lost the fight. Two dirtyyellow inhuman eyes, shaped like a chameleon's, rotated in thathead. They worked individually of each other and the creaturewatched him and all around the bedroom at the same time. Ithesitated and quickly spun towards Billy when he turned andmoaned in his sleep. The quick movement caused the smell ofburning matches to waft from his coat flaps and dead, smotheringsulphur sweat ooze from it's skin.

Skinny's damp breath withered flowers and turned the grassbrown around them in the field he was now trapped. It's tongue, toobig for it's mouth, was leathery hard and hairy, like an giant insectand rattled off his teeth as it tried to taste the air. ThreateningSander. It's head thrown back, giggling insanely but no sound; justthat over-powering match striking smell. Preying on eight year oldinstinctive fears, swaying imperceptibly back and forth, back andforth, like a mantis on the hunt.

Hunting for him. He awoke choking and screaming around 3.30am trying to force blood from the back of his mouth. Billy shook himroughly out of the nightmare and hushed him.

“Shhhh, Sander, s'okay…” he whispered urgently, “…shh, it'sokay, be quiet. You'll wake up Da'. You're having a bad dream, that'sall.”

They heard the springs from their parents bed and Willie Thomsonbanged and bellowed through the wall, “-what the hell is going onin there!”

The boys heard their mother mutter something.

“It's all right Da'…," Billy shouted quietly, “…Sander's had a baddream.”

“Well, you keep him quiet now or I'll come through and tan yourbacksides. I'm up at 5 o'clock and if I don't get my sleep I can be aright sore-head, can't I?”

“He's fine now,” Billy shouted again, quieter this time, “…he'snearly asleep.” Billy fell back on the bed relieved. He hated it whenhis father took a drink.

At dinner time the next evening his old man decided thenightmares were probably something to do with the headaches theyhad all yesterday.

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Sander's mother got a slap for saying his was probably the resultof the six screw tops of McEwan's Pale Ale beer and the half bottle ofwhisky he'd swallowed, after saying he had no money.

Willie Thomson got a mate to truck home a rusty sheet of inchthick steel plate the next night from work. The two men of the housefilled over the hole and covered it with the steel plate and newcement. The following weekend, earth and top soil was laid over it,the garden cleared of the remaining rubbish and levelled. Grass seedwas sown and in a month the boulder episode was a distant memorybeneath the light green shoots.

During the first few weeks or so Sander awoke every morningearly. His uncontrollable screams wakened the whole family whenSkinny Malingky sat on his chest. Every morning nose blood coughedfrom his throat over already soaked pillows. For most of the first weekhe was thrashed every morning by his raging father. Not for theblood but for the bed wetting. His mother finally managed to controlher husband by putting herself in danger, telling him she would takeher son to the family doctor in Possilpark to see if anything could bedone. Doctor Montgomery examined Sander and told her he hadweak blood vessels in his nose and that he would grow out of it in acouple of years.

No one discovered, or cared, why Sander's father began to act inthe demented way he did. But it was the start, as far as Sander wasconcerned, of a campaign of hatred which lasted until his old mandied of cirrhosis when his youngest son was fifteen. Lizzie Thomson'shusband was no longer the man she'd known or married. He'dbecome unbearably bad tempered and was drinking more thanusual. A lot more. His nightmares of the war returned with avengeance. Some mornings Sander and his brother heard hismother's muffled crying when she went back to bed but wereinnocently unaware that sometimes the crying was their father's fearand remorse.

Sander would never go to sleep immediately because he wasterrified out of his wits by dreams of the figure he'd named Skinny inhis mind. His family couldn't understand why he was having so manydisturbed nights and tried to help in various ways but Sander knewhe would be in trouble if he stayed awake so he faked it.

Pretended to sleep for the sake of peace and quiet. Safe from hisfather's rage. He would lie in bed frightened, kept awake by thestrange noises from the attic above him and from inside the walls asthe house settled and boogey man night sounds seeped in from thequiet countryside around him.

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Sometimes he forced himself to stay awake well into the morning,listening to the muffled radio sounds and conversation fromdownstairs in the bright living room, where there was safe light.

Lying quietly in the dark he heard his parents and the rest of thefamily say good night to each other and lay still, trying to breathevenly, when his brother tip-toed into the room and quietly creakedhimself into bed.

Into early morning he lay and listened to the breathing sounds therest of the family made in their dreams while the hours crawledtowards dawn. His attempt to stay awake from terror was lost in thebattle with the coming nightmares.

Street lights shined eagerly through wind blown trees outside hisbedroom window and drew spattered shadows on the bedroom wallpast the faces of evil he imagined lived in the thin patterned curtains.Threatening shadows in corners moved and came towards him as themoon slid across the sky, getting ready to touch him in his sleep.Preparing to welcome Skinny from the cracks in the night. Eventuallyhe fell asleep exhausted and the fear of his young life was on himagain.

It was always the same. Cornered in an earth-quaking field ofheaving, sifting black soil and trapped on all sides by the relentlesschase of skin-tearing razor sharp thorns. He was running throughknee deep wizzy black earth and it sapped the strength from his legslike fine dune sand on a steep beach, slowing him to a virtualstandstill.

Someone or something hacked a rough corridor to freedom forhim out of a high dangerous rent in the threatening barrier. Too faraway for him to ever reach. The exit tantalisingly moved higher outof his grasp every time he tried to get to it. His face and body were amass of cuts and blood coursed from his ears and head while hefought desperately with the whipping wind and thorns.

Skinny hissed blackly through the barrier like a flying fog andbarred every escape route, growing easily, mysteriously, to heavilyoverpower the fading strength of his young arms and legs. It jumpedon his chest. It's great cold weight making them both sink easily,slowly, into the soft ground. Sander never got away. Not once. Heonly woke up screaming into a blood soaked pillow and the taste ofzinc filth flooding his head when the black earth finally overcame hisbreathing and he found it was useless to fight back against themonster.

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It was months before Sander got an unbroken nights sleep. Theodour of disgust in his mind was everywhere in the house and on hisclothing. Slowly, as further weeks passed, the episodes melted awayfrom the front of his memory.

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CHAPTER 5

On occasions when the family stayed up late the coal fire wouldstill be red in the morning. Sander learned to pack it for the day andkeep it slowly 'cooking' by half-smothering it with a mixture of tealeaves from breakfast and potato peelings from the night before. Itwas an art keeping it lit all day.

If the tea leaves were too wet he would come home at lunchtime, the fire would be out and he would have to start again. If toodry the fire would burn out quickly, coal would be wasted and againhe would have to start again. Sometimes he would sleep late forschool and struggled to get his chores done.

It was a toss up between his father's or mother's hand across hisface, or getting the belt from the headmaster for being late. At eightyears old it was some choice.

His mothers punishment was generally a playful slap. A reminder.

But his father's? That was a different story.

His was normally a full blown, flame raged open-handed blow. Heworked with steel and iron all his life and had hands as hard asebony. His father's hand always won. Most days when he overslept,he went to school late.

He'd rather face a belting from the headmaster anytime than abeating from his old man. Arousing his father's temper was not oneof the best things anyone could do. It wasn't that he was strict mostof the time. He was strict all the time. He was always on at his kids orhis wife for something.

“Tidy this up. Clean that. Move that out of here. Is my shirt readyLizzie? Did you clean my shoes? I'm talking to you, bloody wellanswer me when I'm speaking to you.” or “Don't-you-bloody-well-talk-back-to-me! Who do you think you are anyway?” which usuallycame with the crack of a blow followed by a scream or whimper ofpain, depending on the ferocity of his temper.

Sander's mother didn't always avoid it either. Everything had to bejust right for him for he was head of the family and chief breadwinner and never let any of them forget it.

Sander supposed he was lucky being the 'baby' of the family anddidn't know the earlier years. And none of his sisters or brother wereever able to explain how his mother appeared to be on her children'sside when they were in conflict with Him, but always finally sided

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with Him when he had calmed down.

And Willie Thomson never ever seemed to have enough money inhis pocket. That's because he spent it. Pubs, bookies, women. Alwayswanting to be popular with his cronies. Always buying drinks foreverybody in the place.

Outside the immediate family everybody thought he was a greatguy. The best. A straight arrow. Always ready to go out of his way tohelp. Always a laugh and a joke. The women loved him. He would doanything for anybody.

His family knew different. The children knew better. His favouritetool of terror was his trouser belt or his twenty-two inch, quarter inchthick, leather shaving strop.

The Thomson's were settled in their new home and Sander hadbeen investigating the local shops with his mother and was beingdragged yet again towards his house, down their side of a dualcarriageway that was Ashford Rd.

He was thinking why it was that old people always seemed to berushing around when, as they neared their new house, he noticed aboy near his own age running through the trees and down the grassyslope towards them. He was wearing the immediate post-warclothing. Short grey trousers above the knee, a multi-coloured FairIsle sleeveless pullover without a shirt and a pair of black wellingtons,turned down to his ankles. The ginger haired boy came skidding to ahalt in the grass, baring their way.

“What's your name?” he demanded breathlessly.

“Sander Thomson.” Sander replied shyly. He drew a little bit closerto his mother; didn't like the look of this threatening boy.

“Do you live about here?” the stranger demanded again.

“What's yours?” Sander asked him, ignoring his last demand frombehind his parent. The ginger haired boy beamed a big smile andpointed at a house through the trees.

“Jimmy Sutherland!” he shouted proudly. Turning around, hepointed up at a house on Harmatray Street,

“-I live there with my Mum and Dad and my big brother n' mybig sister. We've been here for a-ges.” His manner said that this washis patch and he wanted to know what a stranger was doing on it.

“I live…”

“D'you want to play with me and my motors?” Jimmy interrupted

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hopefully, “…I've got all of them out on the pavement with mygarage.”

Sander turned to his mother. A smile and a nod gave himpermission and the two new friends ran off together up the hill. Shewalked after them up through the trees and across Harmetray Streetto the gateway of Jimmy's house. Mrs. Thomson put her grocerybags down and introduced herself to a tall, thin, red haired womanwho was tending newly planted roses with a trowel in her hand.

“Your garden is looking lovely.” Mrs Thomson said with a degreeof envy. Jimmy's mother looked up, creaked to her feet with somedifficulty, stretched her back, snapped off the right hand glove andheld out a sweaty, talc covered hand.

“Thank you,” she said smiling. “…I'm Sadie Sutherland. Pleased tomeet you.”

Lizzie smiled her appreciation at the welcome and surveyed Sadieand her garden some more. She noticed her new acquaintance hadpretty bad arthritis in her hands and was also thinking she would likeher front green to have roses as well when Sadie Sutherland spokeagain,

“…The Council have only put a couple of inches of good earth ontop,” She continued and pointed around the rest of the garden,“…the under-soil is mostly clay.”

“Oh I don't know about that-,” Lizzie said in appreciation, “It stilllooks great. I wish my garden was as good as this.”

“You've just moved into 278 Ashford, haven't you?” SadieSutherland said. It was more a statement than a question.

“Aye - How long have you lived here Sadie?” Sander's motherasked.

“Oh - quite a few months now.” She picked up a box of matcheswith some difficulty and lit a cigarette, offering her new neighbourthe packet. Lizzie Thomson refused indicating she'd given it up.

“-I see there's talk of a new school going up in the fields behindyour house soon-,” Sadie said, “-that'll save us a bit of a walk when itopens, if it ever does, that is.”

“Does your boy go to Parkhouse?”

“Yes,” Lizzie replied, “it's the only school within walkingdistance.”

“Sander'll probably be going there as well…,” Mrs. Thomson

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replied enthusiastically, “…if you want, we could take turns in theweek and save a lot of time. My daughter Janette will be takingSander there in the next couple of weeks at the start of the newterm.”

“That would be great Lizzie-,” Sadie Sutherland said and smiled abig grateful grin, “-because my legs aren't what they used to be,” sheshook her head and grimaced, “-too many years cleaning cold closeson my hands and knees.”

Lizzie Thomson tutted, sighed and nodded in agreement. It wasn'tso long ago she'd had to do the same.”Well-,” Sander's mother saidwearily, “-I suppose I had better be away and get the tea ready,”

She said her farewells and closed the garden gate behind her.Sander whined about wanting to stay and play with his new palwhen his mother told him to grab his side of the handles on theheavy grocery bag again.

“I've got to get the dinner ready, Sander,” she insisted, her voiceraising to a shrill pleading, “-Janette's working late again and yourfather'll be home soon and if his dinner's not on the table he'll gothrough the roof.”

“He'll be all right here with us if you want to leave him playing,”Sadie Sutherland shouted, “-when we're going in for tea I'll bring himdown to you.”

“-You sure you don't mind?” Lizzie gratefully replied. The breakfrom her non-stop questioning son would be bliss.

“Not at all. He'll be fine here-,” Sadie confirmed. She'd noticedthe strain on her new neighbour's face when she mentioned herhusband, “-be about hour or so and it'll always give James someoneto play with to keep him out of mischief.”

Sander's new found friend had dozens of cars and lorries of allshapes, colours and sizes. Sander was in heaven. 'Your right I'll beokay,' he thought, 'this is tee-rrific.'

It was going to be a good place to live and he didn't want towaste any time. He took no heed of his mother as she saidher good-bye's again and waddled off towards their house.

It felt as if the boys hadn't been playing for long when Sander wasdelivered to his house down the street. Jimmy shouted after him,promising to come first thing in the morning.

There were many such meetings in the days and weeks to come.Jimmy took him to the neighbouring houses where he met Ian

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(Plum) Duff, Brian Morton, Denny Wilson and the rest of the 'gang'.They played together in what was left of the summer holiday andbecame an inner circle of firm friends.

The day arrived too soon when Sander was pulled out of bed onemorning, fed, dressed in new clothes and taken by his older sister tohis first day at Parkhouse junior school.

He was ceremoniously marched up to the top of Archerhill Streetjunction, turning left over the Dummy railway bridge, down a sidestreet and through a maze of lanes to the gates of the only openPrimary school so far in the area.

“You go in there and behave yourself. I'll be back for you atdinnertime, after my work.” His sister about turned and lumberedaway to catch a bus into Glasgow.

Sander didn't know what to do. What was his family be thinkingabout. There was no way he was going to stay in this playgrounduntil his sister came back for him and he came to a decision.

He waited until Janette passed behind the railing topped lowschool wall towards her bus stop and sneaked out the gates,following her, bending down or kneeling hiding behind fences andhedges, like stalking a prey almost, all the way to her bus stop.

Unfortunately for him he was discovered when he rounded acorner and came face to face with her at she waited at the busshelter. Janette Thomson went red in the face with anger and beltedhim hard on the ear because he had followed her. She was notpleased at all because she had to take him all the way back andwould lose money by being late for work. She was getting marriedsoon and needed every penny of her wages. Had to. Anything to getaway from that bugger of a father and his abuse.

She grabbed Sander roughly by the wrist and dragged himscreaming, flowing tears of frustration and fear and kicking at her,back along the street to the school gates, into the playground and upto the second years' classroom door. She made embarrassedapologies to the teacher while her young brother's tantrumscontinued in the hallway.

When he calmed down a bit and stopped screaming he saw thatmany other children were playing happily inside the room and lots ofcolourful charts, pictures and drawings decorated the walls. Afterabout ten minutes he stopped acting bewildered, pulled himselftogether and forgot about sneaking away to kill his sister forabandoning him.

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A bell rang somewhere and everybody piled noisily out of theclassroom into the playground. He was last outside. 'I'll have to learnto be quicker.' he thought to himself. He followed and caught upwith Tommy Barr and a small boy called Jacky, a couple of 'friends' hehad made playing in the art class sand pit,

They led him from the playground into the school assembly halland everybody was given a third of a pint of milk in a glass bottle, astraw and told to sit down quietly and drink it.. This wasn't so badafter all. He loved milk.

In no time at all another bell rang and everyone stampeded backto the area outside their classrooms where they were cajoled intostraight lines by a big male teacher with a whistle. He looked toSander as if he would have loved a stick to go with his whistle aswell. The man walked up and down their line, yelling at them to bequiet and to form an orderly line, two abreast, for marching into theclassroom.

“Who was he kidding? What's an orderly line? What's a breast?”

The girl in front of Sander let out a yelp when she was clipped onthe ear for talking. “Okay, so you don't talk or move in a class linewhen there's a teacher about.” he thought.

The teacher’s booming voice threatened them, at risk of theirlives, to walk sensibly and quietly to their classrooms and take theirseats. When they got back to the room some of the young bravescheekily tried to lift their combination chair and desks off the floorbut the one who stood out for Sander the most was none other thanJimmy. He'd been visiting the school nurse earlier and had returnedwith a sticking plaster over his upper arm. Great, he was in the sameschool. Even better, he was in the same class.

Jimmy was eight and a half years old, nearly six months older thanSander and was in his second term, fourth grade, at Parkhouse.When they went out to the playground for a break he introducedSander to a big boy called Robert Smith who had moved in along thestreet from Jimmy a couple of days before.

This introduction could only be a good thing. To say Robert wasbig was an understatement. He was gigantic, standing a head tallerthan anyone else in the school except the teachers and he had handslike shovels. Good for punching bullies.

Sander's first impression was to stay away from him because thisguy looked like trouble but found Robert had the same sense ofhumour as himself and they got on well immediately. He had a face

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like a bulldog and a shock of thick red hair. No one in the schoolbothered Sander or the others after Robert and Jimmy introduced the'blood brother, ceremony. A straightened out safety pin, jabbedpainfully into the pad of each of their thumbs, and their bloodmixed. After a few weeks it was like having his own personal giant toprotect him. If the M60 rifle had been invented Robert Smith wouldhave handled it with ease. Unfortunately for them he had arather natural streak for attracting trouble, did Robert, and theysuffered more than once over the next year or so until the opening ofthe new school being built adjacent to their streets.

That was when Robert left them. And it was the first time Sanderthought of Skinny Malingky since the episode with the boulder.

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CHAPTER 6

The first time ten year old Sander and his pals realised Chirnsideschool was to be built was when several flat top lorries, overflowingwith what looked like steel fencing and things, arrived on the cornerof Ashford Rd fifty yards from his house, and reversed onto the grassywaste ground that bordered the Marshy.

The gang were having an early Saturday morning game ofrounders on the triangle of grass and trees opposite HarmatraySt. inthe calm spring sunshine. They had been playing for about an hourand were starting to get bored.

Jimmy left to have an early lunch and the others were driftingaway, one at a time, when the convoy pulled up with a roar ofengines, much shouting and blowing of whistles. Other trucks arrivedat various intervals all the way around the reverse question markshape that was Ashford Rd and by the time they were unloaded theremust have been close on a hundred men.

They immediately began digging, cutting, drilling, chopping,yelling and swearing, working till dusk when another whistle blewand they were gone as quickly as they'd arrived.

Two huts had been erected. The first larger one was filled to thegunwhales with all sorts of navvies tools and building equipment. Theother was home for a small, dirty-haired thin man in his fifties, whogamped along with a strange looking limp. And an enormous brown,dangerous looking dog, that didn't.

It turned out it wasn't a dog at all but a vicious evil killer from hellon a chain. It followed it's master around everywhere, trotting tooquickly and maniacally with him, always on the look out for someoneto rip apart, wearing a permanent teeth snarling grin on it's liplessmouth.

Sabre seemed to hate all living things, especially children, andwanted to extinguish the life from everything within it's scent. Thegang had never seen a Doberman before and they grew to respect itin a very short time.

It only took two days to erect a wicked looking spear pointedfence around the area which was meant to turn their playground intoan impregnable fortress.

Running south from behind Sander's home all the way up toDenny's at the top of Edward St. it cut sharply east, parallel with the

42

Dummy railway to the Seven bridges, where it went northwardsalongside the main Aberdeen line to the top of the hill across fromTin Town, snaking back around Ashford Rd to join where it began.

“Tresspassers Will Be Prosecuted” signs stuck out the ground everyhundred yards or so along it's length, threatening fines or jail foranyone who disobeyed. It completely boxed in their play area. Or sothe planners thought.

A few days later it took Sander and his friends ten minutes toburrow under the fence behind his house and regain illicit entry totheir favourite haunt. They were watching from behind the tall grasson the hill as more blue smoking trucks arrived and belched onto thesite.

Denny, as always, asked the obvious.

“-wonder what they're doing?” he said, confused.

Jimmy's reply was tainted with sarcasm, “-don't know Denny,” hesaid, “-but that's an awful lot of diggers and stuff for building us agang hut.”

The rest laughed at Denny's stupidity. “-och, I was only makingconversation.” he whined, going into a huff.

The gang chewed milky grass stalks and watched as a collection ofvarious metal monsters were unloaded slowly and carefully sixty feetbelow them. Denny tutted loudly to attract attention and spokeagain.

“I heard my dad saying the other day he was talking to some menwho were measuring up the land and they said it's going to be aschool.”

“Well it better be a Prody school or there'll be hell to pay.”threatened Jimmy. He nudged Plum, who was lying on the grass nextto him.

“No offence Plum,” he apologised, “-but I'm fed up walking upthat hill to Parkhouse every day in the rain.”

“Probably more houses,” Plum sighed.

They threw the subject back and forth for a few minutes, trying tofigure out what was happening while they watched more lorriesarrive and the serious work began. Half an hour later the boy's had toretreat back to Sander's back garden when the first of the massiveyellow Caterpillars climbed the hill and threatened to overrun them.

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In a week the Cats and other equipment turned the beautifulrolling grass hill between their streets and the railway into a barren,black field of mud.

Same with the football park everyone had marked out on the'Prairie.'

Battlefield war games disappeared as well when the machinesdevoured everything in their path. Every child in the area gave acollective sigh of relief when they stopped short of the Marshy pondthey all loved.

Survey tests had showed it would have to land filled.

For days all roads that led to the site were covered with a fourinch film of mud and earth from dozens and dozens of giant tippertrucks whose sole purpose was to disgorge tons of earth and rubbleinto the pond.

The gang's hearts sank in a mixture of childhood anger and worrywhile the muck grew, pushing back the brown water of the pondtowards the other side of the small valley.

Every morning on the way to school, Jimmy and the rest of themtook heart when they discovered what the workmen had dumpedthe day before, had all but vanished. Half the Marshy had succumbedbut the rest was fighting back, greedily devouring the earthy mulch.Suddenly all work stopped and there was general celebration amongall the children of the area that they still had somewhere to loosethemselves in play.

When hundreds of rough wooden crosses appeared all over thebare earth, the gang thought some worker's must have been killedand buried there. Sander's brother had a good laugh at him and hispals, telling them the crosses were surveyor's marker's theconstruction crew would work from.

The boy's thought it was about time they fought back. For days,after tea, they climbed under the fence at dusk and spent hoursdigging up and replanting stakes in different positions. They werecaught and chased by the 'watchie' and his dog a few times.Hopelessly outpaced and scared of being caught, they decided it wasbetter to have at least kept some of the Marshy than to loose the seatof their pants, or worse, to the dog from hell.

Weeks later their interest in the site was rekindled when theydiscovered a maze of imaginative cross-trenches being excavated allover and into their hillside. It was Brian who noticed the two parallellines, thirty yards apart, much deeper than the rest.

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“The shallow ones are probably for the foundations,” he offered,“-but I haven't a clue what the deep ones are for.”

A few days later all was revealed when the deep ditches werepainstakingly lined with wooden moulds and poured with concrete.Everyone knew at once because Jimmy's Eagle comic had explainedthe process in a glorious colour centre-spread only a few weeksprevious.

“I think they're making tunnels,' Denny said confidently.

The rest of the gang were sure they saw an exclamation markspark above his head. Just for a second. Light bulbs weren't verybright in his house.

“We know!” tutted Jimmy, “-we're not stupid. But what do theywant with tunnels under a school?” Brian offered a possibility.

“Maybe it's going to be a multi-storey building and they'll punchin some piles in for support.”

Next day the gang's mother's were complaining noisily about theendless banging as the pile driver's worked all day and far into thenight. The din continued despite complaints to the council and sitemanagement and went on interrupted for two weeks.

The youngsters waited every evening after tea until the 'watchie'and his black devil dog had done their rounds and disappeared intotheir makeshift home for dinner. Only then did they climb throughthe fence onto the mud covered hill side.

When it was dry it was easy to play games among the deep rutsand piles of earth cut and spread over the slope by heavy machinery.They created dozens of miniature roadways and bridges for their toycars and lorries or had a great time imagining themselves winningthe war against the Germans or Sioux nation.

When it was raining or had been wet, the place was a bog. A seaof clinging mud. Shoes were sucked off their feet if they trod in thewrong places but in general they usually managed to go sneak homequietly and clean up before their parents found out.

It didn't take the construction crews long before the buildingsstarted to take on the shape of the two tier school. Every day whenthey returned from Parkhouse it seemed to have grown another fewfeet. All kinds of machinery and equipment for digging, dredgingand mixing was unloaded all day long, much to their entertainment.

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One Saturday a barely moving police escort snailed into view outof the drizzle from the direction of Bishopbriggs, it's blue lightsstrobing the afternoon dusk. Fifty yards behind, a giant low loaderfilled the width of Ashford dual carriageway, echoing magnificentpower as it rumbled and shook the ground while it crept towardsthem. They grabbed their bikes and took off along the pavement toget a closer look.

An hour later two giant dark green painted boilers and tons ofmetal pipes got cranes to unload them into the deep walled pitfacing the back of Sander's house.

Jimmy reckoned this was to be the main boiler house. By the timethe green monsters were unloaded and blocked in position, it wasdark and the pals watched the worker's light up the entire buildingsite with arcs. Next day concrete roof panels were swung over the pitwalls and incarceration for the boilers was complete. Jimmy wasright. It was the school boiler room and it suddenly hit them thedeep ditches were tunnels running the heating pipes along beneaththe class rooms.

The following Saturday after lunch, Sander, Jimmy and the othersmet up with Plum and broke into the site again, managing to avoidSabre and his master Gurgunza, who usually drank too much whiskyon a Friday night. They reckoned he was probably late starting hisbinge because of the work he was involved in the night before. Theygave him his nickname after the mad professor from Capt. Marvelcomics.

Small, weedy, protruding yellow cheekbones and a pair of glassesmade from the bottom of milk bottles He had a horrible habit ofpushing his loose frames up off his nose with one finger while givinganyone within reach a snatch view of his disgusting ochre pianoteeth.

The gang almost called him 'Banzai', after the Chinese cook fromtheir Blackhawk comics, but reckoned it would have been too muchof an insult to their favourites' chef.

For once they managed to avoid Gargunza's prying eyes and razortemper by playing quietly in the deep walled trench that surroundedthe boiler room out of sight of his hut.

They climbed up, and into the half completed building, testingtheir Tarzan skills against each other, imitating Johnny Weismuller inthe serial they watched thatmorning. Filched ropes were knotted and

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secured over roof beams in the timber skeleton on the first floor andthey climbed and swung their way around the imaginary jungle,oblivious of what went on outside their world.

Games metamorphosed and transformed to suit the mood andsoon they split into two fighting units of G.I.'s and Geuks.

Glassless window and door frames led to twenty feet of fresh airand the hard ground below. Using ropes and scaffoldings theyagreed the room above should be used as a safe sanctuary H.Q. forall. A knotted rope to ascend; a cold length of builders pipe to slidedown fireman fashion.

Tarzan changed to Korean battlefields to fire-fighters at a blaze inNew York back to Korea with mortar and grenade skirmishes.

After a while Jimmy called a truce, informed everyone he wasgoing for a crap and left the theatre of war. He reappeared out of thebushes up on the railway embankment a few minutes later andrejoined them.

“I've thought of a better game,” he announced slyly, “-a much,much better game than this.”

Denny moaned disapproval and Sander spoke up bravely.

“-that's just because we're winning this time,” he shouted, “-everytime you're getting beaten at anything you always change the gam-.” A finger pointed threateningly at him.

“You!” Jimmy snarled, “-you just shut your mouth!” Jimmy's glaremade Sander drop his eyes and go mute. Pecking order restored theleader continued,

“We're going to have a test of balance.”

Denny and Plum stood down from the face-off, dropped handfulsof grassy earth they'd gathered for ammo' and sat down, eager tofind out what Jimmy had in mind.

“I'm getting fed up with this game anyway,” Plum said, “-look atthe state of me.” He pointed to his dusty cement covered trousersand the splats of drying earth flecked over his almost new jersey, “-my mother will kill me!”

His big hands dusted off his crossed legs and he leaned forwardruffling soil and earth out his hair, “-what you got in mind, pal.” hesaid.

Jimmy got to his feet and motioned them to follow. Plum, Sander,Denny and Brian clambered after him while he crawled and groped

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his way through the maze of low joists into the topmost completedpart of the building.

Their leader held a cautionary hand up, stopping his friends a fewfeet behind him. He gestured towards the Marshy pond and they sawthe site watchman and his dark predator, quarter a mile away,chasing some kids back to the fence, his walking stick raised highabove his head, imperilling the invaders.

Jimmy suddenly jumped to a bare window space and beganshouting and gesticulating like a mad man, thumbs at temples, hisfingers fanning like a demented pianist.

“Yahoo-Hoo! Ya bandit!” he screamed for all his worth.

A split second before Gurgunza completed his turn he crashed tothe floor out of sight, laughing hysterically.

The others peered between the wall spaces and saw the 'watchie'spin at the sound, stare at the school in disbelief for a few seconds,remove his cap and scratch his head. He shrugged his shoulders andcontinued with his rounds.

“Next!” Jimmy shouted.

Plum laughed in agreement, seeing the joke and took his turn.Each outburst and dance became more and more ridiculous. Eachtime Gurgunza spun quicker but never saw them. When Brianannounced they'd better stop before he screwed himself into theground they fell to the floor boards, choking for air, trying to breathethrough the dust unsettled by their laughter. Denny was the mostaffected by the fine powdered cement and sawdust and had toremove his inhaler from around his waist, to give himself a muchneeded jolt.

One time Gargunza's dog was half way across the waste groundbetween them and they kept deathly still until Gurgunza called itback. The watchman had better things to do on a Saturday afternoonthan play hide and seek with some stupid children. It was time forthe football results, his tea and maybe a wee whisky later on.

With the first dare of Jimmy's test successfully completed theylooked to him for further instructions.

“Next is-,” he thought for a few seconds then snapped his fingers.

“Got it!” he shouted, “-next is Jimmy's Superjumps.”

He took to his heels and the others played follow the leader. Afterthree or four easy leaps they breathlessly slid to a halt on a dry

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concrete floor before a wide chasm. Twenty feet across, it fell awayinto opaque darkness towards the basement below.

Despite the others protests Plum and Jimmy located a builder'swalk plank across the gap. The crevasse looked even more dangerousas the board seemed to stretch away into the distance. They madesure it fitted evenly on either side and was flat on the concrete floor.Jimmy leered at everyone triumphantly while he watched theirunsure reaction.

“The final test!” he displayed his hands at the obstacle, “Ta-raa!”

Sander shook his head slowly, “-Jimmy, this is daft.”

“Aye, Jimmy,” Plum agreed, “-it's a bit too dangerous.”

Plum and the others knew Sander didn't like heights of anydescription. Denny once said he was the only person he knew whogot dizzy standing on the edge of the pavement. Brian was the firstup for it. Trying to catch Jimmy out. The leader failed to take the bait.

“Okay, OKAY!-” Jimmy huffed slightly and walked back and forthacross the floor, shaking his head with disappointment, “-if I do itfirst, will you all take a go?” He scanned them seriously. The boyslooked around the room, trying to gauge any reaction in each othersexpressions. Testing. Probing for clues of what to do.

Plum spoke first again.

“-are you sure you want to do this pal?” he asked quietly.

Jimmy angrily shrugged Plum's hand off his shoulder.

“Why-?” He stared his second in command straight in the face, “-are you chicken or something?”

Plum's face turned scarlet, his voice thick with insult.

“Chicken? Eh?” he pulled Jimmy roughly away from the edge,“…I'll show you whose chicken, ya prodi basket!”

The big boy took aim and fled across the plank, bouncing eachlong stride in time with it's trampoline twang. It sagged dangerouslywhen he reached the middle but held fast until he got to the otherside.

Jimmy waited until the wood settled and followed. Plum was theheaviest but the leader made it crack noisily as he shot across. Sanderheard Brian take a deep breath and he shot across too. It looked as ifhe had his eyes shut most of the time.

“C'mon Denny! C'mon Sander!”

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The others taunted the young boys of the gang. Denny glanced athis best friend then at the long board.

“Awe Gosh!” he said under his breath, “-what's to lose?”

Sander stood by himself waiting for the plank to settle. He washaving a bad time finding the resources of bravery in himself anddidn't see Plum sneak away.

Jimmy shouted from the far side again.

“Hey! Sander! Look!”

He bent over and hefted a piece of precast the size of his fist anddangled it over the edge, “-it's not very deep.”

When his pal let go of the stone Sander watched it cut throughthe dusty air and disappear into the abyss. Mentally counting theseconds before impact he felt giant butterflies tremble way downdeep in his stomach. When the splash came nearly three long countsafter the brick fell away from Jimmy's hand, it made his knees shakewith a life of their own.

“Two hundred feet deep!” he gasped in disbelief, “-can't be!That's impossible!” The others watched from across the way as hestruggled with the arithmetic.

“-can't be that deep,” he said shakily.

“C'mon Sander. We're waiting.” Jimmy's impatient voice sangagain.

'Does he never shut up?' Sander thought, '-I have to find a way tosave face.'

Lifting a hand to his cheek he rubbed hard at his right eye.Feigning dirt. “Aye, -in a minute.” he shouted at them, “-I've gotsomething in my eye.”

“Stop kidding on Sander,” Jimmy replied, “yer chicken, aren'tyou?”

“I'm no kidding-” Sander was still rubbing away at self inflictedtears when Jimmy picked up another brick-sized piece of concrete. Hethrew it with some effort across the gap and it exploded in pieces atSander's feet. Denny was getting worried.

“C'mon S-Sander,” he pleaded, “-if I c-can do it anybody c-can.”

“Just don't look down,” Brian encouraged.

“Aye-,” Jimmy finished the sentence for him, “-don't look down oryou'll fall to the centre of the earth.”

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He laughed gleefully at his cruel joke and wondered to himself ifhe wanted to have such a coward in his gang.

“You can do it Sander.” Plum returned unnoticed.

The last to cross over slid his left foot onto the three inch board. Itrocked slightly beneath him.

“-for God’s's sake Sander!” Plum again, “-get a bloody move on.We want to get to the next level before it gets dark.” Sander took acouple of deep breaths, trying to reinforce his depleted adrenalineand spoke out. As much for his own confidence as to reassure his so-called friends he could do it.

He held fast to the rough brick wall behind him and swayed backand forth on his left foot, getting ready to run.

“Shhhh!” Jimmy signalled them to be quiet. Sander froze.

“What is it?” Brian whispered, “-what's going on?”

Jimmy scowled at him and put a finger to his lips. They listenedfor a minute but heard nothing except the slight howl of windthrough the wide rafters above. Jimmy shrugged and nodded hishead.

“Nothing there,” he said quietly, “-sure I heard somethingthough-”

Before he could discuss it any more he was interrupted.

“Right,” shouted Sander, “-I'm ready.”

It was a real test of growing up and Sander had to fight hard withhimself to stop from turning around and running away from hisfriends, tail between his legs. But that would have meant disgraceand he had to show them he was as brave as they were. He did it.

He felt as tall as a house when their cheers filled his ears. And hedidn't mind the hard back slapping from Plum either but the jokewas on him.

“-and I caught Jimmy's stone on the floor below,” Plum laughedas he explained, “-counted to three I did, and splashed a bigger onein a puddle outside.”

“Aye,” confirmed Jimmy, “-we knew you'd been reading thescience section of my Eagle comics, so we kidded you on,” Sandershook his head in disagreement, smiling knowingly,

“-I knew it couldn't be that deep pal-,” he replied confidently,trying to bluff it out.

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“Aye, So you did-,” Jimmy replied brusquely. He grunted disbeliefand laughed again, “-but you should have seen the look on you facethough. It - was - a - bloody - picture!”

The gang argued happily out the building at dusk into athunderstorm. Making their way quickly in the torrential rain they ranto the boiler room path that led to their escape through the fence atthe rear of Sander's garden.

Each of them in turn grabbed at one of the newly planted fenceposts, commenting on the bad workmanship as it wobbled undertheir assault. Clambering down the framework of the recent cementwall they dropped over the steep sides in semi-darkness into the twometre trench as it began to hail.

While they waited for the stinging shower to pass the good moodcontinued and they discussed the memory of Gurgunza's comicantics. Denny picked up a stick and began poking and prodding atcement leaks that oozed between the timber slats onto the hardenedbase where they sheltered.

He hesitated and watched mesmerised as a wispy imperceptiblewhite mist wafted lazily along the floor of the roofless tunnel towardsthem.

“What's that?” he pointed the stick in it's direction. It was then henoticed for the first time a feint pungent odour as the mist grew longsearching fingers like live flames and began to climb up the side ofthe construction. Denny shouted again but his friends couldn't hearhim. The bullet crashing of hail and splashing mini-waterfallsobliterated all sound.

Sander saw Denny open his mouth, pointing shakily up the trenchwhen he shouted again. His eyes followed Denny's guide along theconcrete base and he froze as a pale brown smoke grew steadily outof nowhere. He dreamily rubbed at his nose. It felt tight, as ifsomebody had punched him hard.

Everything slowed while long drawn out seconds passed betweenheartbeats loud in his chest. Then he saw Jimmy talking to Brian andPlum.

Brian was shaking his head sluggishly like a laughing open-mouthed man at a carnival and he pointed, mockingly, at Plum.Pinching his nose between his thumb and finger he laughed a longslow motion announcement of disgust.

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Jimmy's face broke unhurriedly into a similar declaration and heploddingly punched Plum lightly on the upper arm. Sander couldn'ttake his gaze off them. Plum's reaction was painfully slow and still hewatched, frozen in his day dream, as Plum dreamily lifted his rightleg, feigned flatulence and mouthed silent words that Sandermanaged to piece together to mean that he certainly did fart thattime.

Meanwhile Denny had unhooked his puffer again and was busypulling long slow breaths on the mouthpiece.

Sander's fly on the wall vision of life crawling past was interruptedby a feeling that the high wall opposite was bulging outwardstowards him.

He reached out and touched Denny who also took ages to react.Sander watched him move his head towards him and saw that hewas soaked to the skin. Flat blonde hair plastered darkly on hisforehead while rain coursed down his face. As Denny faced himSander was shocked to see an expression of terror in his friend's eyesas Denny's neck twisted around it's limit. Watching spellbound, alaugh grew in his head as Denny's violent “No!” threw raindrops ofspray, like a dog shaking off water, outward into beautiful coils ofcoloured fluid.

Something made him turn his attention back to Jimmy and Plum.

They seemed to be yelling in terror and pointing across the gap asthey fled slowly up the tunnel into the mist, a frame at a time.

An overpowering weight slapped Sander down hard and he fellhelpless as a ton of mud and cement splattered around him. Forcedto his hands and knees he tried to resist the weight but felt cold stiffliquid pour over his neck and back and slide under his chest.

When he tried to open his eyes they were forced shut immediatelyas the stinging pain of lime made him scream. Muddy cement forcedinto his mouth and he couldn't get air. The only sound he could hearwas his heart beat getting louder in his head.

He didn't know how long it was he tried to fight the urge tobreathe because all his efforts concentrated on the pain in his eyesand lungs.

Sander felt dull solid blows over his back and lower body andwatched in growing terror as Skinny Malingky grew in front of him.Pressure in his nose exploded into the back of his throat and theblood back up, having nowhere to go, making him cough into hisears. His eardrums popped and he knew he was drowning in his own

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blood and was crying for his mother when a fully formed Skinnystood over him, laughing and clapping his hands for more.

He had a terrible pain in his scalp and felt wet slimy fingers grasphim in a vice grip around his throat. It would have made him screamif he could have. Instead he kicked out in a frenzy as hard as he couldwhile Plum and Jimmy pulled him from the tomb of mud andcement by his hair.

More fingers were stuck in his mouth and up his bloody nose,cleaning, digging at him. Hurting him. They dragged him over to asmall cascading waterfall of rainwater and held him under it until theshock of the icy water brought him back to them. A human soup ofwarm mud, cement and blood sprayed over his friends and he heardthem laugh and backslap each other with relief. He vaguelyremembered being dropped a few times on his head as the boyscarried him across the rest of the muddy field towards his home.

Skinny evaporated angrily before him and retreated back to thelair in sander’s mind. That was the first time the thing of isnightmares tried to take him and from then on he knew he wouldhave to be on his guard.

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CHAPTER 7

Robert's Smith's family moved to Milton a week or so before theThomson's rear garden grew grass. The houses at the far end of theHarmatrayStreet were recently completed but the roads were stillunsurfaced earth. Robert's old man had a secure white collarjob at Abbotsinch airport and, compared with the other fathers in thegang, who mostly worked in steel factories and engineeringcompanies as labourers, he was very well paid.

Mr. Smith was a red faced, red haired tower of a man at six footsix inches and close on seventeen stone and he smiled and joked allthe time and was obviously so happy with his lot it took some of thedreich neighbours a long time to get used to his manner. As well asbeing the eternal optimist he was loud and he was noisy but he wasa gem of a man that never ignored any of his son's friends when theycalled and went out of his way to be interested in what they were upto.

Most of his neighbours had moved from tenement slumbackgrounds and although this didn't directly effect their positiveGlasgow character, the incessant pounding they're pragmatism tookfrom the Depression of the Twenties, the terror of the second WorldWar and mass unemployment in between made them seem grey,cautious and unhappy.

Robert's father was always busy doing something around hisgarden, whether digging in new plants or planting vegetables and hehad the best stocked plot in the area for miles around within a fewmonths of moving in. His favourite pastime was sitting in thesheltered doorway of his garden shed at the end of an evening,watching the sun go down behind Archerhill bridge while sipping awell earned beer.

Big Davy Smith welcomed everybody as if they were a long lostbrother or friend and his eldest son was the same. Davy wentthrough the deserts of Africa from 1942 until demob in 1946,appreciated being alive and showed it. He relayed stirring tales to theboys about the war and strange aircraft that came from all over theworld just to land and re-fuel at 'his' airport.

They were one of the first families in the street to have a car, abeautiful little brown Austin Ten and the very first to have the latestblack and white television cabinet, with an unheard of sixteen inchscreen. Knuckle marks were worn on the green paint of Robert's

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kitchen door from his open invitations to new pals to see Crackerjackor some other marvel of the cathode tube after school. The boysweren't allowed to enter by the front door. It was entirely reserved forher toffs by Mrs. Smith. She was a wee bit of a snob and the boysknew it but she'd had her nose put out of joint because her husbandhad accepted demotion to a less important job and her life of dinnerparties in the more up-market King's Park area of Glasgow came to ascreeching halt when the family had to sell up their semi in the southof the city and move into a council house.

Because of his father's brilliant attitude and of course the T.V.,Robert was very popular with the gang and was accepted by all eventhough he spoke differently from the rest of them.

The only aberration during the months of delight watching Muffinthe Mule and the rest of children's television was the day four or fivefamilies gathered around the T.V. to watch Princess Elizabeth getcrowned Queen. The gang were bored out their brains, forceddressed in their best clothes and made sit still and quiet for hours ofboring adult television. Force fed with china cups of tea that tastedlike rusty water and tiny crustless sandwiches added to their misery.

After the lump of priceless jewellery had been located on thelady's head the adults in the room cheered and shouted their loyalty.In the mid of an atmosphere of conjured patriotism Mrs. Smithpresented each of the children with a Royal Crested half pint tumbler,filled with sweets, an orange and a shiny new half crown, bearing thenew Queen's head. The side of the glass proudly boasted a labelledpicture of Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip on the side. Only thenwere they were then allowed to leave.

Amid threatening looks from their mothers, Sander, Jimmy, Plum,Denny and Robert tumbled out into the afternoon sun. Plum's andRobert's sisters stayed behind to soak up the matronly culture.

“You lot get yourselves home and get changed into your playclothes.” Mrs. Duff's glass cracking voice zapped their ears for thehundredth time that afternoon and Sander's mother spoke up inagreement,

“Aye Sander, get yourself down the road and get changed.”

“Okay Maw, I'm going, I'm going,” Sander replied, embarrassedat being singled out.

“Ian-,” Mrs. Duff pulled Plum back by the shirt collar before hegot to the door, “-remember you promised Jimmy and you wouldput in a new bit of fuse wire in the junction box so I can use the

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washing machine in the morning?”

“But I want to play with my pals-”

“I need it fixed, Ian - today!” she reinforced her rising voice with aglare that would have melted butter. “-your father's coming home onSunday and I want all his clothes laundered the minute he throws hisbag in the door.” She turned and smiled sweetly at the other women,“-kids today,” she tutted and shook her head, “-they've always gotsomething to say, haven't they?”

Plum did as many of the manly jobs around the house that hecould manage to give his old man more time with the family whenhe was on leave from the merchant navy. He made Ian promiseto look after his princess while he was away. George Duff made himunderstand that the most important thing a man could do foranother was to look after his woman.

The boys left the parameters of Robert's house as quickly as theycould and got to the safety of the street. As they sauntered alongtowards Sander's and Plum's homes the main topic of discussion wasthe dullness of the last three hours. Robert took a bit of good naturedribbing about the teas and sandwiches but even he had to agree thata couple of thick 'sliders' made up with cheese would have beenbetter than his mother's 'poofy' triangular pieces.

Jimmy walked on ahead to get his box of tricks and the rest ofthem turned their thoughts to what they were going to do with therest of the day's holiday.

Jimmy ran through the living room and clattered up the stairs tohis room two at a time. He loved doing electrical jobs around hispal's houses and wanted to be an electrical technician when he grewup. He climbed the shelves in his bedroom cupboard, pulling himselfup the eight feet or so through the small hatch into the dark attic.

The dry smell of dusty fibre glass insulation and cheap pinetimbers in his play room never ceased to give him a feeling of quietsecurity but he still felt the irrepressible urge to switch on his stormlantern as soon as he could. It was the strangest feeling and he'dstarted to have it quite recently but there was never anyone therewhen he turned but he still felt as if he was being constantlywatched.

The loud click of a big bird's claws walking confidently across thetiles of the roof above, echoed loudly overhead in the tight space andit made him work faster. “Probably a crow or a seagull,” he thought.

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When Jimmy began throwing the tools and things he would needfor the washing machine repair into his metal flip-top box he felt aheavy grip on his shoulder. Jumping with fright, he turned quickly indefence, at the same time banging his head hard on a roof beam.The light went out and he groped blindly around in the darkness forthe three-coloured torch he knew was near his oscilloscopes andtelephone equipment.

He forgot about the blue Gillette's he had been using earlier totrim wiring and carelessly picked one of them up. The pain didn'tcome at him right away and he didn't give it a second thought whenhe dropped the blade and carried on his frantic search for the torch.

A wash of cool liquid seeped into his right eye and he panickedagain when he tried to stand. He banged into something andbumped his head a second time, tumbling to the floor in agony.

Something big and smelling heavily of filthy mothballs fell acrosshim and smothered him onto his back. He tried to scream but theweight of the furry creature on his back and shoulders stopped himand he pushed it away in disgusted alarm. Both his head and fingerswere covered in a slippy stickiness and he had no idea what it was.

Badly shaken he crawled and fought with all his strength as fast ashe could to get away from the thing, kicking out his legs rapidly inpanic to get to the safety of the faint light seeping up through theattic hatchway and saw he'd kicked out the wire from the lanternswitch.

“How did that happen?” he thought. “-I just replaced the old unitwith a new one the other night. There's no way it could have beenknocked out by accident.”

His finger found and tried the light switch and he yelled out whenthe severed nerve ends in his fingers screamed back in protest.

“Stupid bloody woman,” he hissed. He put his other hand to hisforehead and it returned with more blood.

“I hate this damn place-” he raged, “I'll bloody kill her, her andher bloody washing' machine-.” Jimmy lashed out at his equipmentin the cramped space and kicked in a frenzy until it came crashingdown in a hail of sparks and bangs.

“I'll kill her. I'll damn-well get her, I promise I will.” he ranted, “-she's broken all my equipment and by God she'll pay for it.”

He lay close to tears against the attic wall and let the cool breezefrom the hatch waft over his face, fighting for control of his temper.

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A tiny giggle started way down in his stomach and grew into an eerieuncontrolled belly laugh. The pain in his fingers and head numbedwhile he sucked greedily at the blood from his injured hand.

Pinholes of light coming through the roof helped his eyes getused to the dark and he saw his mothers worn fur coat lying dead inthe corner of the attic, draped crazily around her old tailor's dummy.

Jimmy shook his head at himself and silently cursed his stupid fear.Crawling to the attic entrance he worked himself with some difficultydown into the hatchway, keeping his hand close to his chest forprotection and lowered himself by his bloody elbows until he couldsafely drop onto the floor of the cupboard and into his bedroom. Indaylight he saw three of his fingers were shredded and hurt like helland ran down the stairs to the bathroom and forced them gingerlyunder the running cold water tap.

He was still hissing through his teeth with pain when the letterflap rattled on his front door.

“Jim-my. C'mon. What's keeping you?”

A mouth at the opening shouted for him.

Jimmy lifted his face off the vanity mirror and screwed his eyesopen. Pale blue eyes with almost no iris's, surrounded by patchyveined blood, stared crazily back at him and he let out an involuntaryyelp for his mother.

The letter box rattled again.

“C'mon Jimmy. What's keeping you?” Sander yelled through thedoor. Another deeper voice Jimmy Sutherland had never heard beforelaughed away up in the attic of his head, “You'll do all rightson. You'll do for what I want done.”

When he got the Yale lock undone with the heels of his hands hispals put a few Elastoplast v-stitches across the cuts and roughlybandaged his three injured fingers together. He told them most ofwhat had happened but omitted the part about his fear or the thinghe thought he'd seen in the attic. They didn't need to know about hisdreams either.

In spite of his injury Jimmy insisted in going ahead with the repair,as long as someone else agreed to do the work while he instructed.Plum was nominated because it was his fuse box and they carried histools over to Plum's house.

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The job done, the washing machine was plugged in and tested. Thetop loading twin-tub with it's spinner, worked fine and the gangretired out to Plum's front step.

Throbbing in Jimmy's fingers was giving him a lot of pain and theboys kept asking if he was okay. He lost his temper with them acouple of times but apologised because it was really sore and, afterall, they were only offering sympathy.

Brian said he'd done something similar at Christmas, but not quiteas bad, when he had wrapped his father's new ivory clad cut-throatrazor. “-as if you had raging toothache in the tips of your fingerswhile someone stood on them with steel boots,” he rememberedenthusiastically, “-and the pain didn't go away for ages.”

Jimmy looked at him balefully and Plum dug Brian hard in theribs,

“Shut up will you?” Plum hissed, “-it's bad enough without youreminding him about it!”

“Thanks a bunch Brian,” Jimmy sneered, “Your a real pal. I'msitting here trying to forget this throbbing like a Spitfire's engine atthe end of my arm and you keep reminding me,” he saidsarcastically, “-thanks a soddin' bunch.”

They sat hushed in their own thoughts and Jimmy was wonderingif he should tell them about the hand on his shoulder or the voice heheard in the bathroom, when Robert broke the silence.

“I'm starting with the milk on Monday morning!”

Right out the blue.

Amazed they turned and looked at him. He was grinning broadlyat his proud announcement and waited for the questions. He wasn'tdisappointed.

“Who with?” Plum asked.

“-are you really starting?” Jimmy queried, not sure if they were oldenough to work for the milk man.

“There's no way you'd get me up at 4 o'clock in the morning,”Denny sneered, “-Gosh,” he yawned, “-I'm tired just thinking aboutit.”

“Are they looking for anybody else?” Sander asked hopefully, “-Icould really do with an few extra bob…” He continued, “…wouldyou ask for us?”

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Robert thought moodily about it for a few seconds and tutted,“…well-,” he repeated nonchalantly, “…I don't really know. The'milky' said not to bring anymore than four of my pals with me.”

The gang looked around at each other and nodded in unison.They decided as one to 'jump' Robert and teach him a lesson. Amidred indian whoops of war and general bedlam they managed to forcethe oversized boy into Plum's front garden and pin him down on thegrass without doing too much damage to Mrs. Duff's flowers.

Jimmy sat watching his gang punish Robert for being a 'tit' andlaughed heartily when Sander, astride his big pals arms and chest andleaning over him, made the mistake of actually letting his spittle fallonto Robert's face instead of missing him.

The rest of them jumped off in disgust, ooohing and fakingsickness, while big Robert chased Sander around the garden trying tocatch him. It was like an elephant chasing a greyhound. No chance.Robert soon got bored with the hunt and collapsed laughing backonto the step with the rest of his pals. He waved a suspicious Sanderthe okay to sit down with them again.

The others were eager to find out more about the milk run.Robert explained it to them as he'd been told.

“The 'milky' says he's got to do a new run because of all the newhouses that are being built around Liddesdale Road area and sayshe'll pay any helpers six half crowns every week for seven days work.”

“Fifteen bob's no very much for a full week,” Denny snorted.

“Well, maybe not - but he says we'll make about twice that on tipswhen we collect the takings for him on a Friday night.”

“£4.10s a week wages?” Sander cried in disbelief.

He worked out the sum quickly on his fingers “-Good God -,” heshouted, much louder than he meant too, “-I could buy myself abrand new bike in three months!”

“-Aye, and with racing droopy's, a drinking bottle and fiveChimano gears at that.” agreed Brian.

“I wish I could do it,” Plum said miserably, “-but I've got a paperround.”The idea of a new bike of his own stayed in the front ofSander's mind while he walked briskly down to his house to getchanged. He could start a bank account at the TSB in Saracen andsave for other things as well, maybe even a record player.

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£4.10s a week was more than his sister got at the clothes factoryin bonuses for her piecework shift as a machinist. He'd seen his oldman's pay slip once and it was nearly a third of his bare wage. “I'll berolling in it.” he thought. His sister's bike was the only girlsbike in the gang and he didn't feel right not having a cross-bar; andthat Sturmy-Archer gear shift, with it's girls lever to change up anddown the gears; you had to free-wheel when you changed andalways fell behind the others.

But a racing bike of his own; he had to have that job if it was thelast thing he did. Going to Campsie Glen or to Wallace's Well wouldbe an absolute dawdle.

Plum and Jimmy went out in the heat of the afternoon and sat onthe pavement by Plum's house waiting for the rest of the gang toreappear with their clothes changed. While they waited they tore upstrips of melting tar by the side of the new laid road, rolled them intomarble sized balls and fired them at the crows in the trees opposite.

The other's arrived back, one at a time, as quickly as they couldand they discussed what they could get up to.

“F-ff-fancy going up the Parkhouse swings?” Denny suggested.

“Naw Denny,” Jimmy replied, shaking his head, “-remember the'parkies' after us for jetting up the big chute last week. We can't gothere.”

“What about Springburn park then?” Sander said, “…we could goand catch sticklebacks.”

Plum said it was kid's stuff to stick a stupid net attached to a bit ofbamboo into the pond anymore and he couldn't be bothered withthe walk anyway. Other ideas came and were censured. The silencecontinued while they racked they're brains to find somethinginteresting to do.

“Why don't we go over to the site and watch the navvies buildingthe school.” Jimmy suggested.

“They're not at work today, remember,” Brian said sharply,“They've got the day off for the Coronation.”

“Even better,” replied Jimmy replied with a twinkle, “-we couldsteal some more wood and things for our hut.”

“We don't want to get old Tam into trouble again with hisbosses,” Brian reminded them, “-he's been much better to us than

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that bugger Gurgunza was and gives us some of the things we wantoff the site as long as it's not too valuable-.”

“Sod old Tam,” Jimmy said, “he's just as bad. And a twistedalcoholic the same as Gurgunza was anyway.” They had just aboutmade up their minds on the school building site when Denny pipedup again,

“I've been working on a new type of boggie round my backgarden.” he announced. The others gathered round while heexplained the intricacies of his new design. He'd got the idea at thepictures the other night. One of these Walt Disney shorts that was onbefore the main event. It had shown a Soapbox Derby somewhere inCalifornia where hundreds of kids and grown-ups were racing theirhome-made wooden and tin vehicles down specially build courses.

The rest of the gang agreed and settled for a look at Denny's newmasterpiece. They jumped Jimmy's fence, took the short cut up theside of his house and climbed through the neighbours' back gardensto Denny's.

“Look pretty good to me.” Jimmy said after Denny had dug atarpaulin wrapped bundle out of his garden shed, “Have you triedany of them yet?”

Sander and the others had been wondering why Denny had beenasking them the past couple of days to keep any empty bean or souptins they could lay their hands on. By the looks of it Denny haddismantled his own super fast 'spin' boggie and sawn through themain chassis and axles to get bits and pieces of it to build threestrange looking wheeled scooters.

“All you need is one roller skate, some nails and a piece of wood.”Denny explained, “-and if you want to travel in comfort-,” he held uphis best one and smiled, “-all you have to do is nail a bit of carpetonto it for a seat.”

“Give it to a professional.” exclaimed Jimmy excitedly andgrabbed it away from Denny, “I'm goin' to try it out!”

Sore fingers or no sore fingers Jimmy was going to be the first totry it out and his pals didn't argue. Mostly good fun to be with hesometimes took diabolical risks but they generally let him be the firstto try something new because, in his loud opinion he always dideverything right, unlike his pals who could never do anything right,at least as far as Jimmy was concerned.

As they waited while he sat and tested the theory, Sanderremembered one time they'd put a rope swing over the big oak

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opposite Jimmy's house and were enjoying themselves trying to seehow many could hang from it when Jimmy came running up after histea, demanding and explaining he could do it better than any ofthem.

It was one of the times he was being a big mouth and a prat.They all grabbed him when he swung back to the top of the fifteenfoot hill and tied his feet together over the stick seat and harnessedhim to the rope. They made sure his head dangled a few inches ofthe ground where they standing and tied his arms securely behindhis back. He fought like a tiger, twisting and kicking out at them andpromised violently about what would happen to them when he gotfree but they kept on anyway and by the time they were finished hewas helplessly tied in knots.

He was still screaming blue murder at them when they let himswing away. He was right of course about the trajectory and althoughhe had plenty of clearance at the top of the hill where they'd jumpedon him, when he got to the bottom of the swing they worriedlydived down the grassy slope after him as his face contacted with thegrass. It was a mass of cuts and green bruises and blood gushed fromhis chin, broken nose and stripped eyebrows.

He was not pleased at all and flew into a rage when they got himnearly untied. Fortunately for them he was in such a state he couldn'tfind the energy to fight them and slinked off to his house for repair.

Mrs. Sutherland appeared at each of their doors that eveningwhen she got in from work, demanded retribution and got it. Theentire gang were punished by they're parents and they never sawJimmy again for a couple of weeks.

Reunion came in the form of Jimmy's tenth birthday party andeverybody made sure they got him something good and apologisedto him and his mother profusely for what they'd done.

Jimmy looked around for approval with an expression that said'look at me. I'm the bravest.' Denny shrugged his shoulders andhanded his pal the two steering paddles. Jimmy disappeared aroundthe side of his house and onto the pavement ramp at the top of thesteepest hill in the area that was Edward St. It wasn't a long street butit was a real test of skill and bravery to go down it on a guidedmissile without braking.

The gang usually had races on their pram-wheeled bogies downDenny's street and the corner at the bottom, called Fangio's, was a

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treacherous leaning outwards, left hander. Many of them had badthigh scrapes and bruises to show for their trouble before theymastered it and everybody in the gang had fallen off at least threetimes. Brian's young brother broke his arm when he came off hisbrother's stolen racer on the bend recently and his father smashedthe offending vehicle up so his youngest son couldn't hurt himselfagain. The boys soon put it back together again on the QT. and Brianwas allowed to keep it in Plum's shed so his parent's wouldn't findout.

In early models most of their soapbox vehicles were made by bigbrother's or father's, out of broken tricycles and old prams, so theywere slow but the gang had worked, designed and tampered withthe basics to their own specifications. A liberal coating of Echomargarine or cooking fat on the steel jacketed, ball-bearinged axlesmade them into flying machines.

Plum's pride and joy was his 'Batcar,' the fastest of the lot andpainted red and black to match the markings on their comic hero'ssupercar. He'd even managed to fit strong wooden paddle brakes foremergency stops.

Sander's had called his 'Bluebird,' after Donald Campbell's rocketcar that held the world's land speed record. The curved 'bonnet'covered where he sat inside, and was made from apple barrel strutsfrom the Fruit market where his five uncles worked and gave it theslick nose appearance of an American Super Sabre jet. Jimmy beingJimmy, called his 'Jimmy's Missile.'

Denny designed his after a visit to the Waltzer at the carnival andused a pair of rusty front wheels off his brother's wheelchair insteadof fixed wheels, on the back. He painted 'Minedayit's Ain.' on the sidebecause he'd learned to spin it around at will, on the way down thehill. Nobody else could master it so he had it mostly to himself. Thatsuited him fine. He didn't like sharing his toys much anyway.

Jimmy sat atop the hill and his pals waited to see how he woulddo. For some reason he was taking longer to be his usualbuccaneering self.

“What's the matter Jimmy,” Plum teased, “-are you chickening outor something?”

Jimmy ignored the jibe except for raising two un-bandagedfingers and sat staring purposefully at the bottom of the hill. Hismind was somewhere else and his face had turned pasty white. Helooked as if he was going to throw up.

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“Come on Jimmy, what are you waiting for?” The rest of the gangtook Plum's cue and started on him as well. Sander watched Jimmy'sattitude change from one of bravado to an 'unsure what he shoulddo next' look.

The boys kept after him and he sat on the vehicle, his feet placedeither side, pushing him backward and forward on the skateboardlike a lone tobogganer at the top of the Cresta run, trying to makeup his mind whether to go or not.

Jimmy was staring intently at the bottom of the street,concentrating, but wasn't seeing further than the front of his eyes.Plum shouted again at him,

“Come on Jimmy. If you're not going to go, give somebody else ashot,” he yelled.

Sander got a slight whiff of Skinny in the air and heard the lowrumble of a lorry, far off in the distance. The heavy crash ofstruggling gears reached his mind as Jimmy was pushed over theedge by his pals and shot away from them down the hill like a bullet.

“No! Jimmy,” Sander didn't know where it came from but hescreamed at the top of his voice, “No Jimmy, come back. Don't do it.It's dangerous!”

The rest of the gang had already started running after their pallike whooping Indians as he picked up speed on the first steep part ofthe speckled bitumen pavement. Crashing gears whined and thepowerful engine growl from a laden 20 ton tipper filled Sander'smind again and he took off after his pal, shouting for him to get off.Sander didn't know why but he had to stop him before he had a badaccident.

The rest of the gang managed to catch up the hundred yards withJimmy easily for he hadn't reached the point of no return yet; theyran along side him, taunting him to go faster, hollering and shoutingbefore he reached the steepest part of the hill that snaked round anddown to the right and then to the left at Fangio's bend.

Sander caught up with them and shouted at Jimmy, pleading forhim to stop. To get off before it was too late.

“There's a big truck coming Jimmy,” he screamed in his ear. “Thedriver's new to the area and he'll turn it up here, thinking it leads tothe school building site.” Jimmy let go of his grip on the right edgeof the skateboard and waved him away.

The others yelled at Sander to get out of the way and let Jimmy

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get on with it. They shoved him and threatened him with a 'doing' ifhe didn't leave their hero alone. He tried explaining to them but theyignored his pleas.

The roar of the skateboard's ball-bearings whined higher as itrumbled into the first bend and Jimmy rocketed through it,completely in control. He let out a loud ya-hoo and a couple ofwhoops, laughing hard at the exhilaration of the speed and controlhe had of the machine.

Plum pushed Sander hard out of the way and the smaller boysprawled hard on to the rough road, tumbling over a few times. Heyelled and picked himself up immediately, nearly loosing balanceagain as he charged after his pal, who was now going as fast asgravity would let him before reaching Fangio's bend. Sander ranthrough the pain of torn knees and cuts to his hands and arms,managing to catch up with them again. This time he passed his palswith ease while the strong smell of Skinny clogged his nostrils.

He reached Jimmy, dived as hard as he could and grabbed hiscollar, wrenching with all his strength to the left as a large blackshadow crushed over the both of them. Jimmy came flying off theskateboard, yelling with surprise. The two friends tumbled togetherthrough the thin privet hedge surrounding Plum's house and into hisgarden.

Jimmy got to his feet blazing with venom and looking for Sander'sblood. How dare that little upstart spoil his chance for glory. He hitSander a couple of times in spite of his smaller friend's protests andhad to be dragged off by Plum and Denny.

The skateboard continued a short way down the hill, straightthrough the last few feet of Fangio's bend out of control and thesqueal of air brakes, along with the juddering of heavy laden tyres onthe dry surface, turned the gang's heads quickly in surprise. Giantblack tyres crunched the skateboard flat as if it were an egg shell.Jimmy struggled to get away from the boys who'd pinned him to thelawn and was still trying to get another punch at Sander who was saton the grass holding his bloodied nose with both hands, tearspouring down his face.

Plum fought through Jimmy's rage, grabbed him by the shirtfront and yelled into his face,

“Sander saved your life Jimmy,” he spat, “-thank God he pulledyou off or you would have been minced meat for sure.”

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Jimmy came out of his temper instantly and tried to explainsomething about a giant insect he was trying to get away from, butPlum's insistent shouting drowned out anything he had to say.

“D'you hear me Jimmy?” Plum shouted again, shaking himroughly to gain his attention. He grabbed a handful of Jimmy's shirtneck again and pointed at Sander who was still sitting on the grass inshock. Blood oozed from between his fingers and his clothes weretorn at the knees and elbows.

“Sander saved your miserable life-.” Plum saw his pals eyes returnto the present and spoke quieter, “-you owe him an apology Jimmy.You shouldn't have climbed all over him.”

Jimmy turned his head away, fell to the grass on his forearms andsobbed through a sheet of tears, “I'm sorry Sander…,” he said, hiscomposure coming back, “…I wish I had known, I didn't mean topunch you.”

He sat up a bit, wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands andturned around to his pal to apologise again.

“Are you okay?” he put a hand on Sander's arm for forgiveness.Sander hissed through his teeth and shied away, dragged his shirtcollar off his shoulder and showed them an angry gravel burn thatseeped blood from thousands of pinholes.

“Of course he's not okay, you stupid bugger.” Plum spoke withsome laughter in his voice now. “Thank God you're both okay,” hecontinued, “…c'mon we'd better get him into my house and havemy mother take a look at him.” They picked up their younger friend,interleaved their fingers and carried him, chair style, around to Plum'sback door. No one thought to ask Sander how he knew the lorry wascoming.

When 4.00 am Monday morning came a bruised and stiffly soreSander struggled briefly between his need for the comfort of a warmbed and getting a new bike and the new bike won. His mother gotup with him and made sure he ate a plate of porridge with hot milkand insisted he wore an extra jersey. She argued with him but finallyrelented about his wellingtons when he insisted he wouldn't be ableto run in them.

Robert and Brian were waiting beside the Circus bus stop for himin the wet darkness. Brian told them Jimmy had decided to give it acouple of days before he came on the run as his fingers were stillpretty sore from his fight with the razor blades. They sheltered and

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shivered from soaking drizzle in a close-mouth and waited for thearrival of the milk float which silently ghosted out the ground mistabout half past the hour.

The rising whine of its electric motor pushed it along at a topspeed of about 20 miles an hour and they soon learned to run after itand jump aboard until the next delivery point to save energy.

They had too. The Milky wouldn't wait for them if they were slowputting down the milk so they had to catch up or be left behind. Atthe end of the first morning Sander and his pals were completelyknackered by 8 o'clock and were not looking forward to the nextshift. But they made it.

Terraced houses were quite easy to deliver too but by the middleof the week the boys were fighting with each other about who woulddo them, and who would deliver to the four storey flats that ran upthe North side of Liddesdale Road, which was about two and a halfmiles long.

Brian reluctantly packed it in after a week because his parents saidit was interfering with his studies and making him too tired forschool. Jimmy started the following Monday bringing the team backup to the number Shuggie needed. At the end of the first weekthe company driver, Shuggie Brown, who was no mug, told them hehad the most important job of all, driving the float and looking afterthe delivery book. So he sat on his backside for most of the journey.He said that in order to be fair he would revise the left/right book atthe week-end to make sure everybody got an even chance at theflats.

This all took place in nearly seventy, four levels to a close,buildings. They only made a couple of mistakes each by the end ofthe first week and Shuggie Brown was quite pleased with theirperformance.

The best and fastest milk boy in each street section got a rewardof a half pint of fresh watery orange juice but it still tasted brilliant.Any milk they drank for their breathless thirst had to be paid for asdid breakage's.

By the end of the first three months Sander, Jimmy and Roberthad grown a few inches and were developing leg and arm musclesany marathon runner would be proud off.

Sander salted away most of his wages and tips into a TSB savingsaccount every Saturday morning and bought himself a few smallluxuries. His mother borrowed some of his cash hoard during the

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week but she always gave him it back on Friday night when she gother housekeeping from the rest of the family.

Robert bought himself a portable red and cream Dansette recordplayer and a few of the hit parade records. Jimmy spent most of hisat the ex-Army & Navy Supply Store in Stockwell Street buying up allthe old working telephone, radio and communications equipment hecould find and had an impressive collection.

He wanted to wire up the whole street for his pals to be in contactwith each other by telephone and gave all the gang an army handset with instructions on how to use it. He never mentioned theaccident in the attic again, nor the cold sweat dreams he was havingabout Skinny Malingky and for nearly six months, before the crash,the boys lived high on the hog.

The weekend from Thursday, July 30th stuck in Sander's mind fora long time. The white bomb from hell made more of a splash in theCircus shops than it did in the Evening Citizen local rag. But notmuch more.

Shuggie had disappeared, as had become his habit everymorning, into one widow Simpsons house at 7 o'clock for a cup oftea and a biscuit. He always parked the milk float on the steep hillabove the Circus shops, well away from his woman's home, took thekeys and the boys twiddled their thumbs for thirty minutes till hecame back. It was okay when it was dry and sunny but when it waswet and windy, it was miserable.

Once or twice Robert commented about Shuggie's shirt hangingout and that he was doing more with his spoon than stirring his teawith it. He mentioned it as a joke a couple of times but Shuggie toldhim to mind his own business if he knew what was good for him.The last week or so towards the end of the month passed slowly forRobert and he was finding it harder and harder to get up in themorning. He'd started giving Shuggie cheek and it was obvious fromthe development of the relationship it was going to end in tears forsomebody.

The boys, especially Robert, had a hankering to have a go atdriving the milk float. Sander and Jimmy always managed to killRobert's appetite with a few threats of what would happen to him ifShuggie found out. Robert standard answer was that what Shuggiedidn't know wouldn't hurt him.

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He'd asked the driver a couple of times for lessons but had beenrebuffed with, '-It's more than my jobs worth,' or 'you're too young,'and other similar phrases. They were the usual distance through thedelivery run when Shuggie parked the float and disappeared acrossthe tree bordered common for 'his cup of tea'. This time he’dforgotten to take the ignition keys.

It was a beautiful calm, sunny morning and there was hardlyanyone about. The slow tick of swinging keys teased from thesteering column and it was too much for Robert. When Shuggie wassafely out of sight he announced he was going to take a shot.

“You canny touch it Robert!” Sander hissed urgently, “Shuggie'llkill you if he finds out.”

“S'okay,” he smiled impishly and jumped into the driver's seat, “I'lljust have a wee shot.”

Jimmy said nothing. He’d been wanting to try driving as well andhad been watching Shuggie carefully over the last few weeks. IfRobert was brave enough not to give a hoot about getting caught,then he was prepared to have a go as well.

The dead weight of nearly 700 full milk bottles were squashingthe front tyres heavily against the pavement and it took all of Robert'sstrength, pulling hard on the steering, to straighten up the wheels.Gravity made the vehicle crawl forward, imperceptibly at first, whilethe dormant electric motor whined slowly in protest against it's wornclutch. The slow overtaxed tyres crackled noisily on the rough roadand the float inched forward, starting to pick up speed. Robertstruggled with the hand brake, got it free and the float acceleratedquicker down the 300 yard hill to the junction that led into theCircus.

He concentrated on the road ahead but when he turned on theignition with his foot flat to the boards the delivery vehicle leaptforward out of control.

He was thrown back into his seat, surprised by the speed and thenlost all control when the whiplash caused him to bang his face hardon the steering wheel.

Jimmy and Sander ran after him, whisper shouting as quietly asthey could for Robert to stop but he'd lost control.

The lumbering float became a blue and white bullet and by thetime it reached the on-ramp to the Circus shops, it was doing fortymiles an hour. It shot across the empty road, flew the pavement ontothe grass and targeted Knox's butcher shop as if on a revenge

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mission for the cows that gave it it's living. It zipped through acouple of Rhododendron bushes as if they weren't there and burstdown onto and across the street, heading for the main precinct. Thecrash and smash of crates and bottles being thrown out and falling tothe ground brought shopkeepers hurrying out into the brightsunshine to see what all the fuss was about.

Before it crashed on to the road and hit the foot high safety kerbstone above the first shops Jimmy and Sander saw a bloody facedRobert jump for his life and roll heavily onto the grass. A couple ofbloody vested butcher's assistants, who'd heard the fracas camesauntering casually out of their shop smoking.

The sight of the runaway milk float, charging down on them andshowing it's wheels and chassis as if in defiance at being slowed bythe high step and clattering its way down twenty concrete stepstowards them, milk and glass splashing everywhere, gave them notime to react and they just managed to avoid injury by diving fortheir lives to either side of the vehicle while it demolished the front ofthe shop in a thunder of glass and metal.

Sander couldn't believe it.

When the crackle of metal ceased and the dust settled he stillstood there, frozen to the spot. Not knowing whether to cry orlaugh. Jimmy fell to his knees on the road, laughing out of controland shouting, “-Beauty, -what - a - beauty.” over and over again.

Sander had to admit it was the most spectacular crash he’d everseen but hadn't a clue what to do except get out of there as fast ashe could. He grabbed Jimmy and dragged him to his feet. He wasstill laughing hysterically and Sander jostled him into the bushes, outof sight of the growing crowd. They made their way along the line ofthe road, silently crouched over in the tall weeds behind the tree lineand came to a small gap in the hedge opposite where Robert waslying crumpled on the grass. He was holding his hands to hisblooded face and shaking his head in disbelief at the carnage fiftyyards away.

No one had realised yet he was the demon driver and Sandercalled to him as quietly as he could,

“Robert?”

He hissed again, “Robert. Come on back in here. We've got to getaway from the Circus before we get caught.” Their pal turned hishead very slowly towards their voices, staring at the thick busheswondering where the sound were coming from. Sander and Jimmy

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reached gingerly into the thorn bushes and shook branches so hecould see where they were.

Robert looked at the shaking greenery in stunned recognition andstarted to crawl shakily on his hands and knees towards his pals butsomeone saw him move away and raised the alarm.

“That's the lad that jumped off it!” the man shouted in triumph. Ashout went up and soon everybody was calling for everybody else totry and catch him. Robert got to his feet and ran in a crazy panickedcircle towards his pals in the bushes as fast as he could, still shakinghis head to clear it. He slid and fell to the milky grass a couple oftimes and it looked to Sander as if he had obviously hurt more thanhis bloodied nose.

“Quick, catch him before he gets away-,” the big red facedbutcher roared in vengeance to no one in particular, “-somebody callthe police. Just wait till I get my hands on him.” he snarled, “-I'llbloody kill him!”

The two pals faded into the bushes hoping that they'd not beenseen and watched as the crowd become an angry mob. Othershopkeepers from the opposite side of the Circus encircled Robert,cutting off any possible avenue of escape.

“What are we going to do?” Sander asked.

Jimmy turned to him. His face was white with fear.

“I don't know what your going to do,” he stuttered, “-butRobert's on his own now; It was him that stole the milky's motor andI'm getting the hell out of here,” he shouted over his shoulder.

Sander took a last look at Robert and saw the mob surround andgrab him. They pushed him towards the devastation he'd made ofthe butcher's shop.

Sander heard him shouting defiance at them, pleading for themto listen to him, “I tried to stop it!” he yelled, “-I tried to stop it!”

A white glistening 150 yard trail of milk and cream led away fromthe on-ramp of the Circus, straight across the grass and into theshopping precinct. A dozen or so dogs and cats appeared out ofnowhere and for a few minutes they forgot any differences they hadwhile they tucked hungrily into a free feast of pies, cakes, rolls, loavesand single and double cream.

One or two unwary shoppers slipped on their backsides on thegreasy grass and the crowd grew from houses and shops to nearly ahundred strong. Sander shook his head and let out a big sigh.

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“God only knows what'll happen to him now,” he said loudly tohimself and ran up the field in the direction Jimmy had fled. Aboutten minutes later he let himself into his house with his neck key andheard the worried repeated bell ring of a police car as it echoed fromthe shops and hoped that Robert was all right.

Later in the morning rumours about the accident spread throughParkhouse playground like wildfire, ranging from disbelief about bigRobert Smith getting killed that morning to him saving the life of thebutcher and his staff. He had been taken to Lambhill Police station tobe interviewed about what had happened then onto OakbankHospital The doctor's said he had a very mild concussion,straightened up his nose and put three stitches in his forehead.

Robert was a boy full of surprises.

Just before 9 o'clock he walked into the school playground to ahero's welcome with an oversized bandage plastered across his noseafter being dropped off by a police car. The sergeant had shook hishand, ruffled his hair and climbed into the back seat of the vehicleand, to the astonishment of his pals, threw a thumbs up sign as thecar drew away.

Sander, Jimmy, Brian and Plum pushed their way throughRobert's fans, wanting to know the real story and escorted him awayfrom prying ears.

“What are you doing here?” Jimmy whispered.

“-We thought you'd be in jail or at the very least, grounded!”added Sander. Brian reached an arm up around his friend and ledhim away to a quiet corner, “-from what I hear you're lucky to bealive,” he said seriously, “-you sure you're okay?”

The four of them gathered in a huddle around their friend butRobert sat down hard on the low wall next to the head master'soffice and put his face in his hands. He winced at the pain in his headand footered gingerly with the bandage, opened his eyes and raisedhis eyes to face his friends,

“I told them I was catching forty winks on the back, waiting foryou two,” he indicated Jimmy and Dander, “…and Shuggie, to comeback, when the noise and bumps of the float moving off wakenedme up.”

“You what?” Jimmy nearly shouted. Robert gave the rest of thema wry smile and tutted at the interruption, “- I said,” he continued, “-I told them when I woke up in the back I realised I was heading for

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the shops and climbed out over the side and jumped into the driver'sseat to try and stop it, but banged my head.”

“-and they believe you?” everybody choired at once.

“Nae reason not too!” Robert shrugged his shoulders, smiled andlaughed quietly, “-they think I'm a bloody hero, and-,” he addedholding his head again, “-Shuggie got done for driving an unsafevehicle in a built up area. Bad brakes.”

“But what about us-?” Jimmy and Sander dueted.

“I told them you'd left earlier for the paper shop in Liddesdale Rd.for sweets for me 'cause I was tired. When you came back to meet usit was all over so you must've gone home. Told them I couldn'tremember you're addresses because I'd only been here a few monthsand my head hurt.”

He looked at his pals again but they saw his expression was moreof relief than victory. He'd been lucky and he knew it.

“And that's it?” Brian's investigative brain was in overdrive.

“Think so-,” Robert said, “-all you two have to say, if anybodyasks, is you'd been told by someone at the Circus I'd been taken tohospital.” The gang fell silent and wandered towards the sound ofthe morning bell that summoned them to class. Robert went homeafter an hour because he felt sick and the boys never saw him againuntil the following Saturday.

The first phase of their new Primary school was being opened in afew months and the bulldozed land and building site gave them theideal place to lose themselves. The 'Marshy' pond was much biggerbefore the school started going up but the builders and landscapershad only filled in about half of it and the boys could still fish for frogsand tadpoles or try their hand at rafting.

A square mile of paradise, it was hemmed in at the East by theAberdeen to Glasgow railway line and the 'Seven Bridges'. To theSouth of 'their mile' was the new school and behind it was the everpresent goods rail line for the North of Glasgow which led to theDummy Railway about two miles in the West. To the North lay therest of the housing scheme, separated from paradise by a snaking,heavily tree lined ring road and a chain link fence. Early morning onSaturdays was 'a run around the table for breakfast and a kick at thecat' before delving into another adventure. They hadn't seen their palfor over a week. He wasn't at school. Probably his cut head.

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Robert actually enjoyed the new school for some unknown reasonand had mumbled in passing once that if he got a good 'qually' passmark next year, his old man was going to buy him the latest racingbike. His pals decided he maybe got himself another bang on thehead at sometime and would be okay in a few days. The gangwalked along Harmetray Street toward Robert's house, discussingwhat they were going to do at the pond that day.

Maybe Robert had been grounded again for something. Ormaybe he was still sick. They walked as they talked and graduallybecame aware of a funny odour in the air as they approached hisgate. Sander thought it was very like the smell at the boulderexcavation.

The others decided it was gas. They picked up speed and burstthrough the wrought-iron gate at the run. Definitely gas. The wholeplace was stinking with it. “What do we do?” Jimmy asked. A radiowas playing somewhere in the house. The Everley Brothers singing,

“-don't want your lu-u-u-u-u-uvin', any more-.” Cathy's Clown.

Brian, “-we'll batter on the door?”

“…don't want your ki-i-i-i-i-ises, that's for sure-.”

Stew looked at him, afraid of getting into trouble, “Are you surethe stinks coming from Robert's house?”

“I die each time-”

Plum, “Batter the door in!”

“- I hear this sound-”

'Wha---?”

“There he go-oe-oe-oe-oes, that's Cathy's Clown.”

“Batter the door in!” The intensity of Plum's voice conveyed tothem that he meant it.

“We can't just smash in Mr. Smith's door,” Denny whined, “He'llkill us and then our parents will kill us again.” It was the first timeDenny had said anything. He normally wasn't fully awake at theweekends until around lunch time.

“How come nobody else has caught the smell?” Sander said.

“What time is it?” Jimmy asked. Sander looked at his HopalongCassidy watch he'd been given for his birthday. “Just after 8.00 am.”he replied.

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“Even the postman's not been yet. It's still early. Looks like there'sbeen nobody about since last night.” Jimmy walked towards the patharound the side of the building, “Let's go round the back.” The boyswere starting to feel a bit funny and light-headed as they ran to theback door. Jimmy grabbed the back door handle. It opened easily.

“Robert?” Then louder, “Robert?”

Not a sound but the radio talking to the quiet house. The EverleyBrother's finished. The boys moved slowly and cautiously into thekitchen. Somebody else started singing; sounded like Frank Sinatra.

The odour started to dreamily overpower them and they began tochoke and cough together. Sander was still thinking of the boulderand Skinny Malingky. Plum bellowed.

“Open all the windows, I'll try and find the key for the gas mains.”He took out a handkerchief and soaked it under the cold

water tap. They all did likewise. Denny had to go outside and use hispuffer because he could hardly breathe. Bad chest from pneumoniawhen he was younger. Jimmy, Plum, Stew, Brian and Sander checkedthe living room together.

Robert's Grandmother was sleeping peacefully in her armchair,book and glasses on her lap. Brian gave her a shake but she wasn'tsleeping. She was dead. They stood in fright for a few seconds,staring at her in disbelief at how empty she looked.

Jimmy coughed again and moved first.

All windows in the living room were thrown open and the frontdoor thrown wide to the wall. The boys filed into the hallway as oneand set off up the stairs. Some of them held on to each others sleevesand jackets not sure if they were doing the right thing. None of themhad never been upstairs in Robert's house before but they assumed itwould be the same as their own.

First bedroom, top of the stairs, smallest, probably Robert's. Theywere scared to open the door but after opening the top hall window,they did. Robert was sleeping in his bed. Sander went over and shookhim.

“Robert?” he whispered. Nothing.

Louder this time, “Robert?”

Robert lay faced to the wall. Blood on his bandage had turnedalmost black and Sander could feel icy coldness through the blankets.Very cold. Sander turned him over and let out a small yelp. Robert's

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face was pale grey and his lips transparent black. Other than that helooked as if he was sleeping.

Jimmy opened Robert's window and stuck his head out for a gaspof fresh air. The rest of them jostled in the small bedroom and tookturns. Plum came padding quietly from the main bedroom, faceashen,

“I...I think everybody in the whole house is dead.” he stammered,his eyes glassing over with tears, “-everybody.”

The expression on his face said he wanted out of that house, andfast. Sander was gulping fresh air at the window when he saw thepostman cup his hands coming up the street; he was lighting acigarette. Realisation. Panic.

“Everybody outside,” he yelled at the top of his voice, “-thepostman's coming and he's smoking.”

The boys fought each other out the room and crashed headlongdown the stairs, deciding simultaneously that nothing they could dowas more important than getting to the postman before he got anycloser. They did. After a few seconds of doubt he believed they weretelling him the truth and started the inevitable course of events thesesituations take.

When the police and fire brigade arrived the boys were mostlysprawled on the grass verge opposite Robert's house, getting rid oftheir breakfasts. One of the neighbours brought out some hot sweettea and a couple of blankets for some of them.

A policeman and fireman confirmed Robert, his Mum and Dad,Grandmother and young sister had all perished. Looked like ithappened the night before. Grandma had put her damp nightie overthe top of the gas fire to dry and the pilot light had been put out bythe drips. She'd fallen dead asleep listening to the radio. The boysdidn't cry. They didn't feel anything. Just stunned. At their first deaththey stood mentally together. Shuffling of feet. Staring at the grass,heads down. Playing with fingers. Wringing hands. Minutes passed.Denny spoke first.

“I'm g-glad we were the ones to find Robert.”

They all looked at him and then each other. A couple of themopened their mouths to speak but their eyes said they agreed withwhat Denny had said. They got to their feet quietly and slowly driftedaway from death and went home. They didn't realise it at the timebut this was what life had in store from them. None of them wereallowed to go to the funerals. Children didn't in these days. Anyway,

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they preferred to remember Robert in their minds as they'd knownhim not as they had found him.

The boys told Tommy Barr and Jacky McDonald the real storywhen they came back from holiday down the Clyde coast. They werestunned for days

like the rest of the gang were.

“This summer will always be remembered-,” Sander said a fewweeks later to his pals at their gang meeting, “-and I wish to Godthat Robert hadn't helped us to start growing up so soon.” The lastwords on the matter were from the meetings leader, Denny Wilson.The sombre mood of the time was summed up in what he said. Thewords spoken were their own personal Amen for Robert Smith. 'ByeRobert pal, you're going to be missed but we hope you can still seeus.'

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CHAPTER 8

The builder's worked for two summers and part of the gang's newjunior school was open at last. All Sander had to do was more or lessfall out of bed straight into the classroom. He'd only one more yearof primary to go and then it was off to the big boys world of highschool. It took the builders two years to complete Chirnside schoolbut the gang's favourite pond, where pirates and Errol Flynn live,survived.

At weekends and holidays Jimmy, Plum, Brian, Tommy and Sanderand a load of other world savers and adventurers borrowed hammerssaws, chisels and, nails and any other tools they could lay their handson and lived in the Marshy. With stacks of discarded wood andempty oil drums left behind from the building site they becameprofessional raft makers when they weren't busy fishing for tadpoles,hunting newts or catching bees.

On the evening of his tenth birthday Sander's elder sister Cathybrought home Freddy the rabbit. He was the best birthday presentSander ever had. Well almost. His black and white sheep dog Lassiehad been brought home by Cathy from the Land Army a year agoand was by far his best friend. Lassie was almost an exact replica ofthe collie from the very first Lassie movie, and just as smart.

Sander didn't know it at the time but his parents had a few rowsabout whether they could afford to keep and feed Lassie and his petrabbit. His brother Billy helped him build a hutch for Freddy and itwas given a place at the back of the garden. A few weeks later Billyjokingly told him it was a pretty close run thing whether they keptthe rabbit and Lassie and got rid of Sander instead.

Anyway, he was sworn by his father, at risk of life and limb, tolook after it. Feed it every day, change the straw and clean out it'smarble droppings once a week. During this time Billy taught him to'set' the fire for his family returning from work each day. Rolled upnewspaper, wrapped tightly around a hand then tied in solid knots,burned a lot slower when used as a base, enabling the coal to catch.

This was his main chore, along with washing the dishes everymorning and laying the table for dinner before he went to school.The gang started calling him Alexander the Grate. Make a good wifesomeday, somebody said. For weeks they had quite a few goodnatured running fights and wrestles about the nickname. It neverstuck. Sander used to hate taking out the coal ashes every morning.

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