Scrap CH THREE part one

Scrap CH THREE part one
Life is full of disappointments and as Frank changes into his own clothes he is surprised that they are not as baggy as he expected after losing three and a half stones in weight. They don’t look much different on him than they did on the day he arrived. The trousers are looser and the belt can be cinched up a further two notches but the transformation he was hoping for has not materialised. Oh well, at least he hasn’t put weight on and his chest is clearer after being deprived of his 80 a day habit. He collects his travel warrant and follows his escort to the front gate, which is slammed firmly shut behind him without a word of farewell from his captors.
The rain is tipping down as he climbs inside the bus which arrives with enough delay for him to get soaked to the skin and he sits behind the driver, staring out the window at a world he had forgotten existed. Ah, freedom, but it’s all in the mind really and Frank feels that everyone is in their own private prison in one way or another. He tries to cheer himself up by scoffing the Kit Kat biscuit he took from the officers’ canteen as a leaving present to himself. Some things in life taste as good wherever you find yourself.
He boards the ferry and heads straight for the café as he has found the only way to take his mind off his fear of the sea is to eat. The fry-up tastes wonderful after the grotty prison food and he treats himself to a second mug of tea and a cake to finish. Another treat is reading a newspaper which hasn’t been mauled by anyone else and he stretches out on the plastic covered banquette to peruse it in peace.
As the ferry pulls away from the harbour it begins to roll and pitch and Frank is forced to rush to the nearest toilet, where he remains for the duration of the crossing, kneeling on the floor in front of the porcelain. That breakfast was a waste of £1.20.
Miraculously he feels absolutely fine as soon as the boat docks and he steps onto the quayside and away from the stench of diesel fumes. The sea air makes him feel a little light-headed as he strides towards the station to board the London bound train. He is nervous about returning to the Island but he has a detour to make before he does that, to deliver a message from Thorndike.
College is nursing a broken ankle, having fallen down the area steps after a night out with Scotty at the Bay club. Rachel has been looking after him and enjoying the unusual situation of him being at home every day. The plaster cast has to stay on for at least another week and the leg is driving him mad as the hairs grow back and itch irritatingly. He is expecting a caller this afternoon and keeps checking his watch in anticipation. The girls have been told to make themselves scarce as soon as the visitor arrives and they hope it will be soon because their father has given them five pounds each to spend and they are desperate to get to the shops before they close.
Shortly after two o’clock the doorbell sounds and Rachel rushes to open the door. ‘Hello kid, remember me?’ Frank shows himself in to the living room and College is thrown off balance. ‘Frank, I thought you were elsewhere, how are you? It’s a bit inconvenient actually: I’m expecting someone any time now. I wish you’d let me know you were coming.’ Frank laughs at the man’s discomfiture and makes himself comfortable in one of the easy chairs. ‘Don’t I get a cup of tea then?’ He asks the girls, who look questioningly at their father before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. College hauls himself up from the sofa, a worried look on his face. ‘Can you make yourself scarce Frank, only this is important and any other time I’d be glad of your company but it’s a bit awkward with this bloke coming.’
Frank casually lights up a cigarette and smiles broadly at his friend. ‘It’s me, you idiot,’ he laughs, ‘Thorndike’s man?’ College is struck dumb for a moment and Frank explains that he met the man in prison. ‘As soon as he told me the phone number it clicked,’ he says, ‘so how come you know his Lordship?’
Rachel brings in the tea and biscuits, sets them down on the coffee table and asks permission to go. College says he wants them back by six o’clock and they make a hasty exit before he can ask them to do anything else.
‘He’s not really a lord,’ says College, accepting a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag. ‘He changed his name by Deed Poll to make himself seem more interesting. He owns the house two doors along but it’s got three sets of tenants at the moment, bringing in money for when he comes out.’ Frank takes a sip of tea, bites off half a bourbon cream and dunks the other half before shoving that in his mouth. ‘The silly old sod has had me memorising numbers and letters for weeks,’ he says, biting into a custard cream. ‘He does like to make people think he’s important. He’s got quite a following back at the nick. He said you have something for me.’ College sits back on the sofa, drinking his tea and taking in the unexpected development.
‘I met him years ago when my aunt still lived here and he was called Archie Cavendish in those days. He worked in stockbroking somewhere in the City. He inherited the house from his mother when he was in his thirties. She left quite a tidy sum of money too in stocks and shares and what not but he wasn’t satisfied with that, started getting greedy once he accustomed himself to spending his inheritance. Pretty soon he’d spent most of it and his wife left him for someone richer, taking the kids with her. He’s never seen them since but it doesn’t seem to worry him. He’s not exactly what you’d call a family man, if you know what I mean.’
Frank says he’d best give College the information before he forgets what he came for and writes it down on a pad which the other man hands over. ‘I don’t know why he didn’t just write it down in the first place,’ he says as he scribbles on the page to coax the last of the ink from the cheap biro. ‘All this cloak and dagger stuff I’m sure it’s not necessary. There you are,’ he hands the notebook back, Colleges glance briefly at the message and places the book on the table.
‘It’s all to do with shifting funds from one account to another,’ explains College. ‘He’s got four accounts in different names and he trusts me to manage them for him.’ Frank laughs scornfully, ‘he doesn’t know you very well then,’ he says. ‘He knows I won’t try to cheat him,’ insists College, ‘I’d rather stay on his good side than wrong foot the man. He really does have friends in high places, despite what you may think. Growing up around here he mixed with the cream of the crop and they look after each other.’ Frank points out that nobody was looking after him when he got banged up but College shakes his head. ‘If it hadn’t been for friends in high places he would have got twenty years not five. And he still has most of his ill-gotten gains salted away. He won’t be a poor man when he gets out.’
The subject turns to other matters and Frank asks after Scotty, who has helped on the machinery repossessions several times in the past few weeks. ‘I can’t drive with this on my leg,’ says College, pointing a knitting needle at the plaster cast, ‘and I have tried. I’ll be glad to get shot of it, which hopefully will be on Thursday but I’ll need to take it easy for a while. Scotty has been great ferrying me about when he’s not working for Ken Chapman. He’s been saving up to buy a house on the new estate at the end of his road.’ Frank is surprised to hear this news. ‘I didn’t even know there was a new estate going up,’ he says, ‘a lot can happen in a few months.’ College agrees, ‘so what are you going to do with yourself now?’ He asks as he carefully works the knitting needle down into the plaster cast to scratch an itch. ‘Will you be going back to work for Ken or are you having a change from all that?’
Frank has had plenty of time to consider this move in the past few months and has still not made up his mind. ‘Unless you have any better suggestion I suppose I’ll ask Ken for my old job back,’ he says with a note of regret. ‘I need to sort my life out instead of drifting from one thing to another and gathering no moss. Fancy Scotty buying his own house, you do surprise me. Maybe I should think of doing the same, after all if he can manage it with all his brood to feed I should be able to.’
College reaches out and takes an envelope from the bureau, hands it over and Frank raises his eyebrows as he sees it is full of cash. ‘This should be good enough for a deposit,’ says College, ‘see, he said he would look after you. Don’t underestimate Archie Cavendish; he could be very useful to you.’