Chapter Eleven
‘Congratulations, Col – on the award – it’s wonderful news.’ Mrs Holden had sought him out in the corridor at school.
Everyone was congratulating him. From his own classmates, right up to the headmaster. And now, surprise, surprise, even Mrs Holden.
‘It’s an honour for the school, too,’ she told him.
‘I don’t know whether I’ll go,’ he said sullenly.
‘But you must go, Col. An all-expenses-paid trip to London. Meeting so many interesting people …’ She paused, and added as if it surprised her as much as Col, ‘People as brave as yourself.’
‘It’s just not my scene,’ he said, and walked away from her.
They all thought he should go, everyone, even Blaikie who had beamed at him as he had come in through the school gates that morning.
‘You’re so lucky, Col. I wish I could go to London. Can I fit in your case?’
Even Paul Baxter hurried towards him. ‘Col, any chance of you writing something about your trip for the school magazine? It would make a great story.’
‘Do I look like a reporter?’ he had snapped back.
But in spite of that, something had changed in Paul’s attitude towards him. He wouldn’t let it go. ‘Maybe we could do an interview when you come back. Congratulations, by the way.’
And he had patted Col on the back and moved off.
Col wanted to be angry, wanted Paul Baxter to know he was angry. He was a McCann. He wasn’t the type to be patted on the back and congratulated by the likes of him. He wanted to run after him, challenge him to a fight. Instead, he just stood there in the playground glaring.
Only Denny understood. ‘Your Mungo won’t like it. Back in the papers again, eh?’
And that was the worst part. Denny was right.
When Col had gone home from the Sampsons and told his brother about the award, Mungo had leapt to his feet, angrier than Col had ever seen him. ‘Do that family never give up? You’re no’ goin’ and that’s that!’
Col had already decided he wasn’t going because he knew the trouble it would cause. But Mungo ordering him not to go only got his back up.
‘What’s your problem with this, Mungo?’ he shouted at him. ‘It’s a free trip to London.’
‘See! You’ve changed already. You want to go to London! I’ll take ye to London. What do you want to go with the Sampsons for? Think they’re better than us? Is that it?’
Col thought he understood then. Mungo was afraid, afraid that seeing how the Sampsons lived would make him prefer them to his own family.
‘You and Mam can come as well, they said. I’ve already said I would only go if you two came. You’re my family.’
Mungo sneered at that. ‘Me and Mam go anywhere wi’ that bunch? You have got to be kiddin’. I knew this wouldn’t be the end of it. I just knew it.’
And it wasn’t.
The very next night, Bobby Grant came knocking at their door.
‘What the hell do you want?’ Mam said angrily as soon as she saw him.
‘Keep your hair on, Mrs McCann. For once, it’s not Mungo I’m here to see. It’s your son Col. Hero of the hour. For once, I’m going to be able to say something nice about your family.’
He didn’t get another word out. From somewhere inside the house there was a fierce battlecry and Mungo suddenly appeared and dived at the reporter. He was caught totally unawares. One second he was standing on the doorstep, and the next he was tumbling down their front steps locked in a wrestling hold with Mungo.
Mungo had him on the ground, and was ready to pound a fist into his face. It was only Mam who stopped him. ‘Mungo! For goodness sake let him go!’ she screamed at him as she ran down the steps to pull them apart. ‘Help me, Col.’
Together, they managed to wrench the struggling Mungo to his feet.
Bobby Grant sat on the ground and rubbed his chin. He had a smarmy, insolent smile on his face. ‘You’re always good for a story, Mungo.’
Mungo snarled back at him. ‘Don’t get on the wrong side of me, Bobby-boy. I can make you very sorry.’
Bobby Grant scoffed at the threat. ‘You’re a small-time thug, Mungo. Nothing else. Who do you think you are? Al Capone?’
That really made Mungo angry and he struggled to get to him, but Mam and Col held him fast.
‘He’s no’ worth it, Mungo,’ Col said.
The brawl had alerted the neighbours. Some peeked out of their doors, or drew net curtains back warily to see the cause of the commotion – only to step back in, hide quickly, when they saw that Mungo was involved.
‘You think I’m a small-time crook? Ha! You know nothin’! Nothin’!’ Mungo yelled. ‘You wait and see!’