flockers 3

Judge Morrie adjourned for lunch. Just as the big cheese advocate said he would. Stood outside on the stone steps with Myra.  Lawyers and normal folk, like cowboys and Indians, called a truce. Fleeing from darting rain and driving wind, crossing over towards the warmth and bright lights of the bars and bistros on the Clyde side.

‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘That was weird. It was like something out of a Stephen King book. I’ve never heard so much shite in my whole life.’

‘Wheesht,’ Myra said. ‘You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.’

Rainwater made her hair ratty and her face wan. Her tone startled me, made me reconsider my plan to go to a cosy wee Greggs bakery, woo her with a steak- bake, and catch up on old times.

‘Maybe see you later.’ Pulled my collar up, left her standing and made my way to the nearest boozer. The Scotia was my kind of pub. Proclaimed itself the oldest pub in Glasgow. Tarnished brass fittings. Wooden beams overhead. Live music. All that kind of crap. But you could stand leaning against the bar for a quiet afternoon’s drinking. Pints of beer. A few quick halves. Then another one. Then another. Nobody counting.  Booze never finds enemies. Only friends. Turned over what Myra said in my mind like a clean penny again and again. Got talking to some guy in a red cagoule about football. He was sounding me out, jabbering one way, then dodging the other, seeing what team I supported. But he wasn’t quick enough. Stuck a polo mint in my mouth. Got soaked with rain at Glasgow Green on the way back to the High Court before the afternoon session kicked off.  

Myra was nowhere to be seen. I nipped into the warmth of court to dry off and sat in the seats we’d been in before. Hoping she’d luck in beside me. I was the first customer. The court had the deodorised smell of an empty office block. For a second I panicked. Thought I was in the wrong place. Shut my eyes, just for a second, to rest them. A thin man, caved in cheeks, nudged my arm against the armrest, held his hand over his mouth as he whispered ‘You’ve been snoring’.

‘Thanks pal didnae got much sleep last night.’

 Judge Morrie was glaring up at me. I slipped another polo mint into my mouth. The seats were full of the usual faces Charlie boy had been brought up from the cells, was sitting flanked by a cop. For the first time that day he looked across at me. Made eye contact. Nodded at me.  Knew who I was.

 Myra stood swaying in the dock. Her hands shook and unkempt hair framed her face like a paper bag. I felt sorry for her. She was trying so hard to keep it together her jaw was a slide rule. Looked across to Charlie. He was enjoying her discomfort. He batted a smile back across at me, big teeth glinting in an older face, but still the same old Charlie.    

‘No I didn’t love him,’ said Myra. ‘I didn’t even like him.’

Mr Cameron QC paced back and forward, back and forward in front of the witness stand. ‘He was your first boyfriend?’

‘Yes.’ Myra kneaded her forehead, an agony of indecision. ‘I mean no.’

Mr Cameron’s puckered his lips and an amused expression shone in his clean-shaven young face.  ‘The first boy you kissed?’ He said it in a coy way, playing to the jury.

‘No,’ she said.

‘The first boy you had sexual intercourse with?’

‘Yes.’

‘The first boy you had a child with, a daughter I believe?’

‘Yes.’

‘The first boy you loved in a normal loving relationship?’

Her shoulders slumped. All fight gone. Voice shaky. ‘Yes,’ she said.

Taut smile. ‘No further questions your honour.’ He strutted back to his waiting colleague.

The defence lawyer seemed in no hurry. He ambled across to the dock. Stroked his beard. ‘Mrs Broderick would you like to take a little sip of water?’

‘No,’ she said, in a frightened voice. Then reconsidered. Looked to the Judge for guidance, but his gaze back at her was a blank wall. Her eyes took flight, locked on the defence lawyer. ‘It’s Miss Broderick,’ she admitted. ‘I never married.’

‘Why is that?’ he asked.

‘Just couldn’t.’ Her voice rose in agitation. ‘Couldn’t.’

‘I see,’ he said. ‘Didn’t have any offers?’

‘Charlie wouldn’t let me.’

He seemed surprised, but quickly covered it over. ‘You keep in touch?’

‘He talks to me all the time. I try not to answer. He’s someone that really understands. He tells me I’ve been through so much. How easy it would be to be together again. How it’s healthy to bring these things out in the open. How deep down I want to be happy. Everyone wants to be happy. You go into a kind of trance listening. Sure you do the washing up, clean the house, put your kid to bed, but all the time you’re listening. Waiting. The world begins to make sense. Trees talk to you. And you hear birds speak. Everything makes sense and you feel so incredibly clean and vibrant. And you know the world’s going to end, but you don’t care. Charlie will make it alright.’ She looked at her feet. ‘Charlie makes you do dirty vile things. Dirty. Charlie is the devil. Promises you all the wonders of the world. For a glorious minute. For a second you have them in your hand.  Only Jesus can save us.’ She raised her head. Eyes blazing.  ‘Only Jesus can save us.’

Charlie was chuckling when he squinted across at me. He tapped his forefinger to the side of his head. For once I tended to agree with him. Myra was screwy.

‘No further questions,’ said the defence lawyer.

I sneaked out the door behind me, hoping to catch Myra. Not sure what I’d say to her. She’d died in that courtroom and nobody cared. Wanted to tell her she wasn’t alone. I cared.