“Senga, Senga, my God, darling, what’s got into you?” he squealed, clearly exasperated, as if he wis talking tae some naughty wean, attempting tae take her hauns back intae his again.
“Rory, please don’t patronise me. Ah might only be nineteen, bit Ah know whit Ah know, okay?” she flashed at him.
“Look, I’m not saying you’ve done anything wrong. I’m worried…Lizzie is worried.”
“Is she?” Senga replied drily, looking across at the people queuing up at the till tae pay their bill.
“Lizzie said that you’ve known this…er…”
“Johnboy,” she quickly reminded him, turning back tae face him.
“…Johnboy, since you were both young and in primary school.”
“And?”
“And well, look, don’t take this the wrong way, but there are females, some women, who write to people in prison…who end up becoming infatuated with the person, even though they don’t really know them. The little research that’s been done has highlighted that it usually ends in tears, sometimes drastically so, in that the person on the outside has ended up…er…a victim of manipulation or worse…violence.”
“Oh, fur God’s sake, Rory! Ur ye serious or whit? Dae ye think whit ye’ve jist come oot wae applies tae somewan like me?”
“Look, darling, I’m not saying you, personally, but I’m just pointing out the dangers that others have experienced.”
“Ah cannae believe whit Ah’ve jist heard, especially coming fae you. Ye make me sound as if Ah’m some sort ae jail groupie or something,” Senga scoffed, offended.
“Senga, please, I’m not saying you are, but Lizzie told me that you haven’t had…you know, a real relationship with this…this convict.”
“Oh, his she? Look, Ah’ve known Johnboy Taylor aw ma life. Aye, it’s true we hivnae went oot, at least no as boy and girlfriend…that kind ae thing…bit whether you or Lizzie want tae believe it or no, Ah’ve loved him since Ah first clapped eyes oan him as a five-year-auld, so Ah hiv,” she said, feeling the tears well up in her eyes, trying tae contain the anger rising in her chest and resenting the look ae pity in they eyes ae his.
“Look, I didn’t come here to fight with you, darling. I love and respect you, but for the life of me, I just can’t understand why you would want to throw away everything we have,” he pleaded, close tae tears.
“Rory, whit hiv we goat?”
“I bought a ring.”
“Oh Rory, please…”
“Look, I love you. I thought that we were at a stage where we could take our relationship to the next level. You’ve met my parents.”
“Oh, Ah’m sorry, I never asked ye how yer da wis daeing efter his stroke?”
“He’s fine. It’s us that require emergency resuscitation. I’ve rented a cottage…out near Balfron…for next weekend,” he said, hesitantly…hopefully.
“I’m sorry, I cannae…”
“Lizzie said you don’t have shifts that weekend.”
“Rory, I can’t…Ah’m sorry. It jist widnae work,” she pleaded.
“Senga, how well do you know this…Johnboy…I mean, really know him?”
“I’ve jist telt ye, I’ve known him maist ae ma life. My ma and his baith worked thegither as cleaners in the local schools years ago. They wur the best ae friends up until Helen Taylor died a few years back.”
“No, I mean, really know him?”
“Oh Rory, fur God’s sake…I thought ye wur a clinical psychiatrist and that criminal psychology wis a different field?”
“It is, but I spent a year studying criminal psychology as part of my training.”
“So, whit ur ye getting at?”
“Look, from what I can gather, he’s been in and out of prison or some other criminal institution for most of his life.”
“And, yer point is?” she asked tersely.
“All I’m pointing out is that you’re attracted to someone who has been locked up, under close
“Rory, please don’t patronise me. Ah might only be nineteen, bit Ah know whit Ah know, okay?” she flashed at him.
“Look, I’m not saying you’ve done anything wrong. I’m worried…Lizzie is worried.”
“Is she?” Senga replied drily, looking across at the people queuing up at the till tae pay their bill.
“Lizzie said that you’ve known this…er…”
“Johnboy,” she quickly reminded him, turning back tae face him.
“…Johnboy, since you were both young and in primary school.”
“And?”
“And well, look, don’t take this the wrong way, but there are females, some women, who write to people in prison…who end up becoming infatuated with the person, even though they don’t really know them. The little research that’s been done has highlighted that it usually ends in tears, sometimes drastically so, in that the person on the outside has ended up…er…a victim of manipulation or worse…violence.”
“Oh, fur God’s sake, Rory! Ur ye serious or whit? Dae ye think whit ye’ve jist come oot wae applies tae somewan like me?”
“Look, darling, I’m not saying you, personally, but I’m just pointing out the dangers that others have experienced.”
“Ah cannae believe whit Ah’ve jist heard, especially coming fae you. Ye make me sound as if Ah’m some sort ae jail groupie or something,” Senga scoffed, offended.
“Senga, please, I’m not saying you are, but Lizzie told me that you haven’t had…you know, a real relationship with this…this convict.”
“Oh, his she? Look, Ah’ve known Johnboy Taylor aw ma life. Aye, it’s true we hivnae went oot, at least no as boy and girlfriend…that kind ae thing…bit whether you or Lizzie want tae believe it or no, Ah’ve loved him since Ah first clapped eyes oan him as a five-year-auld, so Ah hiv,” she said, feeling the tears well up in her eyes, trying tae contain the anger rising in her chest and resenting the look ae pity in they eyes ae his.
“Look, I didn’t come here to fight with you, darling. I love and respect you, but for the life of me, I just can’t understand why you would want to throw away everything we have,” he pleaded, close tae tears.
“Rory, whit hiv we goat?”
“I bought a ring.”
“Oh Rory, please…”
“Look, I love you. I thought that we were at a stage where we could take our relationship to the next level. You’ve met my parents.”
“Oh, Ah’m sorry, I never asked ye how yer da wis daeing efter his stroke?”
“He’s fine. It’s us that require emergency resuscitation. I’ve rented a cottage…out near Balfron…for next weekend,” he said, hesitantly…hopefully.
“I’m sorry, I cannae…”
“Lizzie said you don’t have shifts that weekend.”
“Rory, I can’t…Ah’m sorry. It jist widnae work,” she pleaded.
“Senga, how well do you know this…Johnboy…I mean, really know him?”
“I’ve jist telt ye, I’ve known him maist ae ma life. My ma and his baith worked thegither as cleaners in the local schools years ago. They wur the best ae friends up until Helen Taylor died a few years back.”
“No, I mean, really know him?”
“Oh Rory, fur God’s sake…I thought ye wur a clinical psychiatrist and that criminal psychology wis a different field?”
“It is, but I spent a year studying criminal psychology as part of my training.”
“So, whit ur ye getting at?”
“Look, from what I can gather, he’s been in and out of prison or some other criminal institution for most of his life.”
“And, yer point is?” she asked tersely.
“All I’m pointing out is that you’re attracted to someone who has been locked up, under close
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