The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4 Read Free

intae.  A milkman hid been stabbed three times tae the heid and body up oan the third flair landing at six o’clock wan morning, jist o’er two weeks previously.  He’d ended up wae a punctured lung and it hid been touch and go as tae whether he wid survive or no.  The surgeon hid said that he’d been lucky as his attacker hid only missed his heart by a fraction ae an inch.
      “Right, Biscuit, Ah’ll heid up the stairwell oan the right, you take the wan oan the left and we’ll come at the commotion fae opposite ends ae the landing.”
      “Nae problem,” Biscuit replied, heiding intae the dark, as a nice wee broon Wally Dug exploded intae a thousand pieces aff the bonnet ae the squad car, engulfing aw the spectators in a white chalk cloud.
      By the time they goat up oan tae the landing, there wis an eerie silence, apart fae the distant sound ae car horns and ambulances whizzing up and doon Springburn Road in the distance.  The Stalker put his finger up tae his lips as he looked at Biscuit.  They crept slowly alang the landing towards the open door, which lit up the hoosehold debris that wis scattered across the landing in front ae it.  The baith ae them wur within six feet ae the open door when a mad-looking fucker, in his bare feet, suddenly appeared, wae wan erm wrapped roond the neck ae a lassie and a butcher’s boning knife in his other haun.
      “If any ae youse two basturts make wan mair move, Ah’ll slit her fucking throat, so Ah will,” the madman snarled, looking fae wan tae the other.
      “Whit’s yer problem, son?” Biscuit asked him, as the tear-stained face ae the lassie, who looked aboot thirty, bit who wis probably only in her late teens, pleaded wae her eyes fur them tae dae whit they wur telt.
      “It’s goat fuck aw tae dae wae youse, so it his, so fuck aff and leave us alane.”
      “Look pal, we’re no interested in yer wee domestic situation.  We’re jist here tae warn ye tae keep the noise doon.  The neighbours ur complaining aboot the racket.  There’s people aboot here needing tae get up early fur their work in the morning,” The Stalker said, measuring the gap between himsel and Jim Bowie.
      “Ah’ve telt ye, it’s goat fuck aw tae dae wae youse, or any ae they basturts,” he snarled, nodding oot intae the night.  “This is between me and her.  Noo, get tae fuck and leave us alane.”
      “Aye well, ye see, ye’ve put us in a difficult position noo, hivn’t ye?  We jist came up here tae tell ye tae keep the noise doon and here ye ur, staunin there wae a chib in yer haun.  Noo that we’ve seen that, we hiv tae decide whit we’re gonnae dae aboot it,” Biscuit said tae him, pulling oot a twenty packet ae Embassy Regals and lighting wan up.
      “Aye, bit it could’ve been worse.  At least ye’re jist oot oan yer ain landing, and naebody seems tae hiv noticed the blade,” The Stalker said, in a conspiring whisper tae the knifeman, wishing the neighbours behind Biscuit and him wid fuck aff back intae their ain hooses.
      “Ah’m warning ye, Ah’ll slit her fae ear tae ear if ye take wan mair step.  See if Ah’m fucking kidding or no.”
      “Look, here’s the story.  As Ah’ve jist said, son, ye’ve put us in a wee bit ae a sticky situation.  Put the chib doon, and we’ll go and hiv a wee cup ae tea.  Ah’m sure we kin sort it oot withoot the whole ae Springburn lugging in.  How dis that sound, eh?” Biscuit asked him.
      “Youse basturts don’t know whit it’s like fur us.  Who the fuck ur youse tae try and tell me how tae sort ma life oot, eh?  Whit Ah dae aboot here is ma ain business.”
      “Listen, Ah used tae be an alky masel, so Ah wis.  Noo look at me?  Hivnae touched a drap in ten years,” Biscuit said, exhaling a straight blue line ae smoke.
      “Ah don’t drink.”
      “Naw?  Well, at least that’s something positive tae be getting oan wae, bit the point Ah’m making is, if ye think ye’ve goat