Scrap 17

SCRAP 17
Frank is woken by the sound of shouting. The room is dark and Rosa is sleeping, oblivious to the uproar. Quickly he dresses, drinks cold water from the bathroom tap, washes his face and shakes his head awake.
Creeping downstairs he arrives at a scene of chaos. Crockery is being smashed, furniture and punches thrown and insults hurled from every quarter. The mood has progressed through the phases of solemn grief to cheerful inebriation to the final stage where long buried differences have risen to the fore. The fists are flying as fast as the missiles.

Frank steps in to the fray, taking the side of Danny and the two brothers. Orla is weeping loudly on Jason’s shoulder as insults are screamed by the combatants. Squashing together large numbers of Irish Catholics and Protestants, adding liberal quantities of alcohol have led to the inevitable conclusion.
Danny is somewhat surprised to find Frank at his side and quickly acknowledges his presence before they dive in. Using their combined bulk to prise apart the brawlers, they send them sprawling into the garden where they can sober up in the cold damp air. The party is over and groups of mourners stagger back to their various caravans, some to other peoples’ caravans.
Danny, Frank and the brothers survey the wreckage as the last of the troublemakers is ejected. Orla is stretched out on a sofa, her son seated on a chair at her side. Danny nods to Frank and goes to assist the grieving widow. Frank says his goodbyes and makes a hasty exit.
‘I’ll start on the clearing up,’ says Danny. Orla looks old and pale. ‘Leave it for the morning,’ she says, and turns to Jason. ‘Close the doors will you son? Then you should get off to bed. I want to speak to your cousin.’
Jason does as she says, leaving his mother alone with Danny. ‘I think Rosa went up to bed,’ she says, ‘she was worn out.’ Danny agrees, ‘Aye, it’s been a long week for all of us.’ Orla asks for a glass of water, which Danny is happy to provide. ‘I hope you’ll be staying with us for a while Danny. There’s a lot to be done.’ He puts on as sincere an expression as he can. ‘I’ll be happy to stay for as long as you want,’ he assures her. ‘And what about yourself? Will you be staying on at the yard?’
Orla gives him a knowing look. ‘Of course I shall be staying. What else would I do? It wasn’t only Bill who ran this yard, you know. We all do our share.’ Danny blushes slightly. ‘Oh, I know that, I just wondered…’
‘You think we can’t manage just we three, is that it?’ Orla finishes the water and inspects the cut glass tumbler in her hand. ‘This glass is one of a set of six,’ she says, ‘the only wedding present we had from my side of the family. We have done very well for ourselves, without anyone’s help.’
‘I wasn’t suggesting….’
‘No, and I suppose you were also not hoping you could get your feet under our table either?’
Danny stands and looks down at Orla. ‘I know you are only talking like this because of the grief,’ he says quietly. You should try to get some sleep and give yourself time.’
Jason comes back into the room. ‘I better shut the windows too,’ he says. ‘Thank you son.’ Orla gets up from her sofa. At 5ft 2ins she is a good foot shorter than Danny. ‘He’s a good boy, my Jason. He’s going to be here to look after his old Ma, aren’t you son?’ Jason gives her a kiss on the cheek. ‘I am that,’ he assures her.