that nice minister who’s been up at the door. Ah’m sure he’ll help us oot.”
“So, whit aboot the service then? Don’t get me wrang, Ah’m no really intae aw that guff aboot hivving a mass. The main thing is that he’s been baptised. Will anywan know the songs? It’s gonnae be embarrassing, hivving a Proddy funeral, if there isnae anywan there who knows the tunes.”
“Ach, we kin jist hum alang tae them, Helen. Ah’m sure God wullnae get his knickers in a twist because a couple ae Catholics don’t know the words tae some ae they orange tunes. Yer Jimmy and Betty’s Stan ur blue noses, so we’ll get them tae gie it big laldy in the church, eh?”
“Aye, Ah suppose.”
“That nice wan wis saying it’ll probably be next Wednesday, so he wis.”
“Whit nice wan?”
“Fatty. The wan that looked like Oliver Hardy.”
“Ah’m telling ye, Issie, how Ah never stuck the heid oan that baw-face ae his, Ah’ll never know. The patter flying oot ae him and that wee pogo-stick ae a pal ae his, wid’ve melted the inside ae an iron lung, so it wid’ve.”
“Dae ye think so? Ah thought they wur dead nice, especially Fatty Arbuckle. And remember, they didnae hiv tae gie us that good deal that ended last week. Ye cannae deny them that, so ye cannae.”
“Oh, Issie,” Helen said, feeling the tears well up in her eyes, as she took Issie’s hauns in hers.
Chapter Eleven
Helen opened her eyes. She’d been awake fur a while, bit hid lain, luxuriating in the stillness ae the moment, under the warmth ae the blankets and coats that wur piled up oan tap ae her. It wis still dark ootside, bit the wee gap between the curtains let in the orange glow fae the street light and hauf lit up the bedroom. Jimmy must’ve opened the curtains earlier when he’d goat up fur his work, tae see if it hid been snowing in the night, she thought tae hersel. She didnae know whit time it wis, bit she could hear the sound ae the engines ae the buses and lorries, heiding up and doon Keppochhill Road, at the bottom end ae the street. She wis lying wae her hauns clasped thegither between her knees, curled up in a ball. She could feel the cauldness ae the room oan the tip ae her nose which made her sink even deeper intae the warmth ae the mattress. She smiled tae hersel in the semi-darkness, thinking aboot aw the times o’er the past few weeks that she’d tried tae convince Jimmy tae make up a fire through in the living room in the morning fur her, before he left fur work. The two-bar electric fire wis oan the blink and wis lying through in Johnboy’s bedroom. Jimmy widnae throw it oot because he thought he could fix it. She couldnae remember when the tap bar hid gone oan it, bit it hid been o’er a month since the bottom wan hid gied up the ghost.
“Whit? Ye want me tae make up the fire at hauf five in the morning? Ur ye bloody insane or whit? Ah know Ah come across as a hauf-wit maist ae the time, bit believe you me, Ah’m no as stupid as you or aw they mad pals ae yers take me fur,” he’d growled.
“Oh Jimmy, shut yer geggy and dae as ye’re telt fur wance. It widnae take ye two minutes, so it widnae,” she’d pleaded wae her best pained expression. “It’s aw right fur you. By the time ye’re stomping doon the road, aw wrapped up and warm, building up a good auld sweat, Ah’m hivving tae pace aboot this fridge ae a place, trying tae keep warm until the coal fire gets gaun.”
“Good.”
“And wasting gas, staunin o’er that cooker ring, trying tae get a heat.”
“Serves ye right, so it dis.”
“Stiff as a board, no feeling ma toes because they’re that cauld, so they ur.”
“Best thing fur ye...keeps ye fit.”
“Hivving made up yer pieces the night before while ye’re lying through in that bed, snoring like an auld weasel, expecting
“So, whit aboot the service then? Don’t get me wrang, Ah’m no really intae aw that guff aboot hivving a mass. The main thing is that he’s been baptised. Will anywan know the songs? It’s gonnae be embarrassing, hivving a Proddy funeral, if there isnae anywan there who knows the tunes.”
“Ach, we kin jist hum alang tae them, Helen. Ah’m sure God wullnae get his knickers in a twist because a couple ae Catholics don’t know the words tae some ae they orange tunes. Yer Jimmy and Betty’s Stan ur blue noses, so we’ll get them tae gie it big laldy in the church, eh?”
“Aye, Ah suppose.”
“That nice wan wis saying it’ll probably be next Wednesday, so he wis.”
“Whit nice wan?”
“Fatty. The wan that looked like Oliver Hardy.”
“Ah’m telling ye, Issie, how Ah never stuck the heid oan that baw-face ae his, Ah’ll never know. The patter flying oot ae him and that wee pogo-stick ae a pal ae his, wid’ve melted the inside ae an iron lung, so it wid’ve.”
“Dae ye think so? Ah thought they wur dead nice, especially Fatty Arbuckle. And remember, they didnae hiv tae gie us that good deal that ended last week. Ye cannae deny them that, so ye cannae.”
“Oh, Issie,” Helen said, feeling the tears well up in her eyes, as she took Issie’s hauns in hers.
Chapter Eleven
Helen opened her eyes. She’d been awake fur a while, bit hid lain, luxuriating in the stillness ae the moment, under the warmth ae the blankets and coats that wur piled up oan tap ae her. It wis still dark ootside, bit the wee gap between the curtains let in the orange glow fae the street light and hauf lit up the bedroom. Jimmy must’ve opened the curtains earlier when he’d goat up fur his work, tae see if it hid been snowing in the night, she thought tae hersel. She didnae know whit time it wis, bit she could hear the sound ae the engines ae the buses and lorries, heiding up and doon Keppochhill Road, at the bottom end ae the street. She wis lying wae her hauns clasped thegither between her knees, curled up in a ball. She could feel the cauldness ae the room oan the tip ae her nose which made her sink even deeper intae the warmth ae the mattress. She smiled tae hersel in the semi-darkness, thinking aboot aw the times o’er the past few weeks that she’d tried tae convince Jimmy tae make up a fire through in the living room in the morning fur her, before he left fur work. The two-bar electric fire wis oan the blink and wis lying through in Johnboy’s bedroom. Jimmy widnae throw it oot because he thought he could fix it. She couldnae remember when the tap bar hid gone oan it, bit it hid been o’er a month since the bottom wan hid gied up the ghost.
“Whit? Ye want me tae make up the fire at hauf five in the morning? Ur ye bloody insane or whit? Ah know Ah come across as a hauf-wit maist ae the time, bit believe you me, Ah’m no as stupid as you or aw they mad pals ae yers take me fur,” he’d growled.
“Oh Jimmy, shut yer geggy and dae as ye’re telt fur wance. It widnae take ye two minutes, so it widnae,” she’d pleaded wae her best pained expression. “It’s aw right fur you. By the time ye’re stomping doon the road, aw wrapped up and warm, building up a good auld sweat, Ah’m hivving tae pace aboot this fridge ae a place, trying tae keep warm until the coal fire gets gaun.”
“Good.”
“And wasting gas, staunin o’er that cooker ring, trying tae get a heat.”
“Serves ye right, so it dis.”
“Stiff as a board, no feeling ma toes because they’re that cauld, so they ur.”
“Best thing fur ye...keeps ye fit.”
“Hivving made up yer pieces the night before while ye’re lying through in that bed, snoring like an auld weasel, expecting
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