Scrap CH THREE part 47

Scrap CH THREE part 47
Jason has called for a board meeting and the pals arrive at half past ten as requested after Scotty suffered a severe scolding from his son for abandoning the football match to the charge of Stinker Smith’s ‘Uncle’. He tried to explain to the boy that this meeting is more important but to Robbie nothing is as important as his few hours on a Sunday morning with his dad and the lad has gone off in a huff, kicking the ball down the road towards the playing field, refusing a lift but begrudgingly accepting the mars bar which has been somewhat warped after resting in his dad’s pocket for a week or so.
The four directors make themselves comfortable at the table, where Bettina has placed papers in front of each chair. She positions herself at a nearby desk and is ready to take notes. Jason stands up and smiles at his fellow directors, welcoming them to the quarterly meeting. ‘These past three months have been hard for all of us,’ he begins, ‘but now that the importers have started paying up we have built a good balance and the business is heading in the right direction. The top sheet of your bundle outlines the monies coming in and going out. I’m pleased to say that we have sufficient in the account to start paying ourselves some wages.’ The other three give a cheer and say about time. ‘However,’ he continues, ‘we will have to keep a tight rein on the budget because the Hayes takeover will be complete on 2nd January and that means we will have four drivers’ wages to cough up every week. Now we should be alright as their invoices will be coming in on a regular basis but we have to keep enough in reserve in case of emergencies and to repay the loans we have with the bank.’
He gives the others a few moments to go through the figures and asks if anyone has any questions. ‘How exactly are we going to divide the money up?’ Asks Scotty as he notes that Jason seems to be drawing as much as the other members of the Board yet they are doing all the work. ‘It may seem a bit lop-sided,’ explains Jason, ‘but I’m putting in as many hours as you three and I’m not making any charges for the use of my yard or the paperwork, which is quite considerable. Bettina is being paid partly by CRS and partly by me because she does work for both businesses. It’s the fairest way I can think of for now so I hope you all agree.’ They others exchange looks of compliance and say it seems okay for now, but Frank has taken a sideways look in the girl’s direction and doesn’t like the smug look which has crossed her face.
Most of the papers are lists of incomings and outgoings, the largest being for diesel, which Jason assures them does not include the amount he uses for the other business. ‘There is just one more thing,’ says the self-appointed Managing Director, ‘we should be able to each draw a dividend next quarter and I estimate it will be somewhere in the region of £1,000 each if things continue as they are.’ This bit of information puts everyone in a hopeful mood. They stay for a cup of coffee and chocolate biscuits then the meeting is brought to a close.
On the way home Frank and Scotty discuss what Jason has said, in particular they are concerned that Bettina seems to have such an influence over him. ‘We’ll be drawing more in salary than we used to get from Ken Chapman,’ says Frank, ‘even though we’ve been scraping the barrel for a week or so it seems like it’s all starting to pay off and we do need someone who can handle all the paperwork; I wouldn’t have a clue where to start.’ Scotty agrees that neither would he.

They pull the car up alongside the playing field, where Robbie and his pals are involved in a tussle with the opposing team. ‘Time the referee intervened I think,’ grins Frank, as Scotty shrugs, bids him farewell and goes to break up the scuffle.
There is a Vauxhall Victor parked outside Frank’s bungalow and he groans as he sees the occupants are his sister Norah and her husband Dave Somers. He pulls up on the drive and before he can get out the two visitors have appeared at his side, big smiles on their faces. His stomach knots up and he instantly feels sick. ‘Hello Frankie, how are you? We haven’t seen you for ages and mum was hoping you’d come for Christmas.’ They follow him indoors and through to the kitchen, where Norah fills the kettle and looks through the cupboards until she finds mugs and tea bags. ‘Make yourselves at home,’ mumbles Frank as he removes his coat and drapes it over the back of a chair.
Somers has drifted off on a self-guided tour of his brother-in-law’s home, which irritates the man no end. ‘I don’t know what I’ll be doing next week,’ he says, although he has nothing planned, ‘but you know how I feel about the German. Why would I want to spend any time with that git?’ Norah fishes the last tea bag out and drops it in the sink with the others, where they will stain the pristine stainless steel. Frank removes the offending articles and places them in the bin, rinses the tea from the sink and takes a bottle of milk from the fridge. He sniffs the contents before handing it over, unsure how long it has been in there.
They move to the living room where Somers is nosing through Frank’s collection of LP records. He joins his wife on the settee; Frank sits in his usual easy chair and waits for the real reason for the visit. He doesn’t have to wait long. ‘I hear you’ve started up your own haulage firm?’ Somers’ casual observation switches on a light in Frank’s brain. ‘And you were hoping I can give you a job? Do you even have an HGV licence?’ The man has no shame and doesn’t show the slightest hint of embarrassment as he settles back in his seat and clears the mouthful of chocolate biscuit before continuing. ‘Well, it would be nice to keep it in the family, don’t you think?’ Frank is more than a little suspicious. ‘I thought you were still driving buses,’ he says, noting that his sister is sitting in silence, her face averted; ‘did you get the sack?’
It turns out that his brother-in-law was caught in a compromising situation with one of his clippies and although Norah has forgiven him, the company were not so understanding. Frank takes great delight in telling the odious man that he couldn’t give him a job even if he wanted to. ‘What with all the strikes and unrest at the moment, we don’t have enough work for the men we do employ,’ he explains, ‘anyway it’s not up to me: the hiring and firing is handled by my partner and he doesn’t employ anyone he doesn’t know so you’re out of luck there.’ Knowing that Somers is a staunch Union man he is the last person CRS would want on their payroll. ‘Anyway, I thought you had a job as shop steward, so what went wrong there?’
Norah says that the clippie is married to the local Union boss so that explains it all. ‘Will you come for Christmas anyway?’ His sister seems keen to get his agreement but Frank will not give her a definite answer, saying only that he will see how things are. He makes it clear that he has other things to do and is relieved when the visitors leave. The cheek of the man, expecting preferential treatment when he knows that Frank can’t stand the sight of him. Maybe there was a time when his sister could talk him into doing what she wanted but those days are long gone; Frank is his own man now, older and wiser.
He switches the radio on and the news is gloomy, mostly about the increasing violence on the picket lines and that grinning ninny of a Prime Minister making all sorts of doom-laden prophecies. The bloody fool thinks we live in the 19th century instead of the 20th when the Tories ruled the roost. He’s going to find out that life has changed since those far-off times and the workers will not tolerate his kind any longer; he wants a fight and he is going to get one. Frank just hopes it will not affect him too much. After the latest reports he is glad he had the foresight to buy up that cheap container load of candles: it looks like they are going to be needed.