Today we celebrate St. Valentine's Day with a tale from Tillie. Enjoy it whilst scoffing your chocs.
One dark winter's night, my pal and I were making our way back to our tenement homes in Broomloan Road from the FP club at Bella. We were actually still pupils there, but we were allowed to go and join in the games in the gym and swim in the pool.
As we hurried along the street, we were aware of two shadowy figures following us. We sped up and so did they. When we walked slowly, they hung back. Actually, we had a good idea who they were; two boys from the year above us, and we did not wish to engage them in conversation.
We hurried past the stately detached villas of Ibroxholm Oval and just then an idea came to me. My pal and I were walking arm in arm and suddenly, I forcibly guided her down the driveway of an imposing home, saying in a loud-ish voice, "Hurry, Father will be waiting. We can't be late!"
Our feet crunched on the gravel and we crept round the back of the house, giggling quietly as we peered out. Back at the gate, the two boys stood, gingerly looking in but too scared to make any advance down such a posh drive.
About a week later, I was sitting in the front room of my first floor tenement, when I heard a chap at the front door. I answered it and was very surprised to see one of the boys who'd followed us standing in the close.
He looked me up and down for a moment and then said scathingly, "Oh, so this is where you live then. M-hm." Nods his head. "Right round the corner from where a murder was committed."
Then he turned on his heel and walked smartly down the stairs.