Scrap CH THREE part 5

Scrap CH THREE part 5
‘Blimey mate you look rough,’ greets Frank as he joins Scotty at the dockyard café. ‘So would you if you’d had the night I just had. My back is killing me: I’ve been up and down on the load handballing every box and I’m not used to it. Bloody Ken made me drive the old ERF.’ Frank gives him a sheepish look which is instantly interpreted correctly. ‘What could I say?’ Shrugs Frank, ‘he’s the boss and he did make a promise, anyway you’ve had your share of the cream so now it’s my turn.’ He grins, pats Scotty on the back, making him wince, and offers to pay for the breakfast. Scotty begrudgingly accepts and before long they are behaving as if nothing has happened.
Frank is at the head of the queue for loading and with the new trailer it takes less than 20 minutes to complete the task, not counting the 15 minute tea break the stevedores needed mid-way. He parks up and gets into the old ERF with Scotty. ‘You don’t get any extras with the new system,’ he points out, ‘all pallet on pallet off so even you can’t cheat on that one.’ Frank smiles slyly, ‘you’d be surprised,’ he says with a glint in his eye.’ Scotty stares at him aghast, ‘you can’t have,’ but Frank has somehow managed to find a kink in the security check and got an extra pallet out of it. ‘You never cease to amaze me,’ grins his pal, shaking his head and wincing again as his back reminds him of the hard work ahead.
Once they have finished loading, roping and sheeting Scotty’s trailer they drive up to Ken’s yard to park up for the day. Frank has things to do but as Scotty has been out all night he will be heading home for a kip. Frank drives off and Ken calls to Scotty that he wants a word. ‘Sorry about the change of lorry,’ he says, ‘but we owe it to Fat Frank and I’m a man of my word. What’s wrong with your back, you keep rubbing it?’ Scotty tells him he is in agony and Ken says he has just the thing to sort it out. ‘Follow me up to the house and I’ll get it for you,’ he adds, ‘marvellous stuff it will have you right in no time.’
They take their boots off outside the door and go in to the bathroom, where Ken rummages around in the mirrored cupboards before fetching out a tube of ointment. ‘Here, rub this on, you can take the tube I’ve another one somewhere.’ He leaves Scotty to administer his own medicine and goes to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Scotty squeezes out a big dollop of Deep Heat and rubs it into his lower back where it gets to work immediately. While he is there he decides to use the facilities, makes himself comfortable on the porcelain and has a good clear-out. Unfortunately he didn’t wash his hands first and within seconds realises that his arse is on fire. In his efforts to wipe away the offending cream he manages only to spread it to an even more sensitive area and his only hope of relief is to fill the wash basin and sit in it until the searing pain subsides.
‘You alright in there?’ Ken calls from the other side of the door, ‘only you’ve been ages; there’s a cup of tea in the kitchen when you’ve finished.’ Scotty says he is just coming as he looks about him for something to dry himself on but all he can see is a fluffy towelling bath robe. There’s no option but to use that and he hopes that nobody will notice the slight stain until much later so he doesn’t get the blame.
‘How does that feel?’ Asks Ken as Scotty gingerly perches on one of the high chairs at the breakfast bar. ‘Much better thanks,’ replies Scotty. ‘Only I meant to mention you have to wash your hands afterwards so you don’t get any in your eyes or anything.’ Scotty says of course he knew that and thanks him for the cream, drinks his tea and bids his boss good day.
The babies are both bawling their heads off when Scotty arrives home. Dawn has put them in the garden in their twin pram to let them stretch their lungs and enjoy a bit of fresh air. ‘How long have the boys been crying?’ Asks their father as he peers in at the red-faced scraps. ‘Not long,’ snaps their mother, ‘anyway I need to get on with the housework; it doesn’t do itself you know.’ Scotty takes a baby in each arm and they stop crying, gazing up at this stranger and deciding he is alright. He wanders down to the end of the garden speaking soothingly about his flower borders and the grass which needs cutting again. The two little mites relax in his embrace, Charlie drifts off to sleep quickly followed by George, Scotty carries them once round the garden for good luck then gently lays them in the pram, adjusts the canopy to make sure the sun is not striking their faces and blows each a silent kiss before heading upstairs to bed.
After a quick wash Scotty stretches out and pulls the covers up over his ears, lulled to sleep by the hum of the vacuum cleaner downstairs.
Frank has driven up onto the foreshore and is skimming pebbles across the sea, bouncing them through the low waves lapping at his bare feet. His granny always swore by the healing powers of sea water and would get him to bring some home in a lemonade bottle whenever he could. She would pour it into a bowl and soak her feet, one at a time, in the soothing if somewhat murky water. Frank is enjoying the feeling of gritty sand as the waves flow over his feet then suck back in ebb, taking some of the grit with them and causing him constantly to reposition himself as his footing is undermined with each wave.
The smell of oil wafts from the Isle of Grain refinery, mingling with the fresh ozone and the tar which sticks to the dead seaweed up on the high water line. This is one place which seems unchanged by time and it brings solace to a troubled mind.
He suddenly remembers Scotty’s bad back and decides to make a gesture of goodwill. He drives in to town and buys an aerosol tin of Deep Heat to give his pal. This new innovation means that you don’t get the stuff on your hands and knowing that there is nowhere to wash them in the cab he decides this will be just the job.
While he is in town he calls in at the estate agents office to inquire about his mortgage application. ‘Mr Ridley, good news,’ says Harold Wood, ‘you’re application has been approved. Your employer filled out the form straight away and as you won’t have any trouble meeting the repayments you can move in as soon as the property is ready. I have the acceptance form here if you want to sign it now and I can answer any questions you may have regarding the sale.’
Whatever lies Ken put on the form it obviously impressed the building society and Frank leaves the office feeling elated and a little bit excited. He travels on to the building site to see how his new home is coming along. The main building has been completed, the doors and windows installed and the interior walls plastered. ‘You should be able to move in about four weeks from now,’ says the site agent, after Frank has told him that his mortgage has been granted. ‘This is the last one in the row so you won’t have any dust to contend with because phase two is over the way. You did say a blue coloured suite, didn’t you?’ Frank confirms this and they go across to inspect the bungalow whilst the workmen are on their lunch break.
How life can change in the course of a few months, thinks Frank. From sharing a stinking tiny cell with a stranger to moving in to a brand new three bedroom bungalow all to himself is quite an improvement and he is going to love it.
‘I look forward to handing over the keys,’ smiles the site agent as they shake hands. ‘And I look forward to accepting them,’ Frank smiles back.