The Kellys of Kelvingrove by Margaret Thomson Davis Read Free Book Online

hastily through the park area on the left and made their way towards the front of the Art Galleries. There were two or three groups of rowdy teenagers wearing wide flared trousers and Rod Stewart’s ‘Maggie May’ was blaring out from a wireless. The youths could be looking for trouble. Usually, they fought among themselves, jeering and shouting at one another, but Clive and Paul were always nervous in case they’d turn on them. They had been feeling uneasy about another couple of men hanging about near Waterside Way – dawdling behind the trees. As soon as the men saw Clive and Paul, they hurried away.
    ‘Who on earth are they, I wonder?’ Clive said. ‘A right tough-looking pair. Did you see the tattoos one of them had? The other one’s bomber jacket looked very worse for wear.’
    ‘Well, at least they’re not interested in us, thank goodness. I don’t like the look of them though. Shifty kind of characters. They’re up to no good, I bet.’
    ‘Well, if they’re burglars looking for a house to burgle, they’re in for a shock with a police officer living in one of them.’
    Paul laughed.
    ‘I hope they do pick his house. Serve them right!’
    While walking around the Galleries admiring all the paintings, they came across one of a woman with a cape of long, reddish blonde hair.
    ‘Look,’ Clive pointed out. ‘Who does that remind you of?’
    ‘Sandra Arlington-Jones, of course. Both Sandra and that Pakistani boy, Mirza Shafaatulla, had better be careful. Mirza and Sandra are both in one of my classes. Mirza’s a really clever lad but he obviously dotes on Sandra. Her mother will have a fit if she finds out – a right snobby bitch.’
    ‘I know. She didn’t manage to get us chucked out of our house though.’
    ‘What do you think of her neighbour, Mrs Jean Gardner?’
    ‘I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her.’
    After their walk around the Galleries, they decided to go into town for a visit to the Stirling’s Library. They loved to wander around the city centre, admiring Glasgow’s wonderful architecture. They especially admired the architecture of the Stirling’s Library which had originally been built as a house for one of the wealthy Glasgow Tobacco Lords. Both being artistic, they could admire the Corinthian pillars on the facade and the cupola above.
    It was with reluctance that they made their way back home. Not because they didn’t like where they lived, not even because of the trouble-making Mrs Arlington-Jones or the smarmy Mrs Jean Gardner. The Reverend Denby was the one they feared and who spoiled the love they had of their nicely situated home and little garden, with a small patch of grass and borders of flowering impatience, french marigolds, primulas and hydrangeas.
    ‘A minister of religion was the last person in the world I thought would be such a danger to us,’ Clive said. ‘I’m frightened of him.’
    ‘I don’t blame you. I’ve a gut feeling he’s going to succeed in doing us real harm if we’re not careful.’
    ‘How much more careful can we be? I wonder if we should talk to Jack Kelly. After all, he’s been threatening violence against us.’
    ‘He hasn’t actually done anything to us though. I mean, he hasn’t put a hand on us. It could be said he’s just a mad old man and we should simply ignore him.’
    ‘It is frightening though. He’s evil. Especially last night, the way he shouted, “Die, die, die” at us. He wants to … not just put a hand on us, but kill us.’
    ‘Or have somebody else kill us.’
    Clive shuddered. ‘For pity’s sake, Paul, you and your imagination. Don’t make me feel worse.’
    Paul put an arm around Clive’s shoulders. ‘Sorry, but nobody will hurt you if I’m around. I’d die protecting you.’
    Tears well up in Clive’s eyes. ‘I know,’ he said, ‘I know.’

11
    ‘He’s got the true spirit of Scotland, Pop,’ Bashir said.
    ‘Who?’ Mahmood asked.
    ‘Jimmy Reid.’
    ‘And who is this Jimmy