Agnes Owens by Agnes Owens Read Free Book Online

the can. It’ll save me washin’ up later.’
    Murdo poured a big measure of whisky for Paddy. It must have shot straight into his bloodstream for he brightened up right away like a flash bulb.
    â€˜How did the case go, son?’ he asked Murdo.
    â€˜Fine. I got aff.’
    â€˜I should think so. Fancy anyone accusin’ Murdo o’ grievous bodily harm. A nicer fella ye couldny meet,’ appealed Paddy.
    Rat-face and me stared sympathetically at Murdo’s pitted face.
    â€˜Ye’re right there Paddy,’ I said. ‘By the way, how did ye manage tae get a telly?’
    â€˜It wis Murdo here that got me it.’
    I looked enquiringly at Murdo.
    â€˜Ach, it wis nae bother.’
    â€˜It’s a fine telly. Who selt ye it?’ I asked.
    He laughed, which was unusual for him. ‘Folk don’t sell me things. They gie me them. Anyway, I’ll tell ye whit happened. Ye know that twister Duds Smith, the ragman? Well, I happened tae be hingin’ aboot when a wee laddie gave him a great bundle o’ rags. Duds gave him a balloon that widny even blaw up. The laddie wis greetin’ so I telt him tae get me a breid knife, if he had one in the hoose. He brought me a great carving knife. I showed it tae Duds. I telt him if he didny gie the boy somethin’ better than a balloon I wid gie him the knife – right in the ribs. So Duds gave me this telly. I kept the telly and gave the laddie ten pence.’
    â€˜You’re a decent fella Murdo,’ said Paddy.
    Murdo bowed his head to hide his embarrassment.
    Rat-face said, ‘So ye urr.’
    I drained my beer from the can and said nothing.

Tolworth McGee
    T he other Saturday I met up with one of my old schoolmates, Toly McGee. I think his correct name was Bobby, or it might have been Rabbie, but I always knew him as Toly on account of one or two accidents he had in the classroom. In those days he had a very nervous disposition. I gave him a genuine ‘how’s it gaun’ welcome and noticed he hadn’t altered that much. The big brainy forehead wrinkled in perplexity as he peered at me with the same flickering eyes of old. They slowed down to a standstill when recognition dawned on him.
    â€˜It’s yourself,’ he said with such a great grin of pleasure I wondered if he really knew me. He shook my hand with hot enthusiasm and I had difficulty in ungluing it from his clammy grasp. I was beginning to regret my impulsive greeting because I could see I’d have difficulty in getting away from him and I was in a hurry to put a bet on.
    â€˜Huvny seen ye for a while,’ I remarked.
    â€˜I’ve been in England since I left school,’ he told me.
    I thought that explained the posh accent. ‘Did ye run away?’ I asked.
    â€˜Of course not! Mum and Dad left for London with the family. You remember Dad?’
    I remembered Dad. He used to be ‘the auld man’ to Toly. He was a shuffly, ferrety-faced wee guy who worked on the railway and, when drunk, battered Toly stupid.
    â€˜Right enough,’ I said, ‘I remember ye a’ lit oot for the big smoke.’
    Vaguely it came to me that the talk with my mother at the time was the McGees had done a moonlight after getting free passeson the train. It also struck me that Toly was dressed neatly in a brown suit with tie to match, and a crew-cut which did not enhance his naked face. It wasn’t my idea of style. Still, there was an air of success about him compared to the old days when he wore his father’s shirts with cuffs turned up a mile, ragged trousers which barely reached his ankles, and either wellies or sandshoes regardless of weather conditions. I could sense he was about to embark on a long conversation so I cut him short.
    â€˜I’ll huv tae get this bet on before the one-thirty race,’ I explained and smartly headed across the road to the bookie.
    â€˜That’s alright. I’ll wait for