Scrap 65

SCRAP 65
Scotty’s family have almost finished their breakfast when a ripple of applause flows towards them from the door, where Frank has just come in from the rain. He looks round in surprise as he realises the cheers and applause are for him. Blushing, he takes a few bows and seats himself next to Robbie, who has obviously been positioned to put space between him and the adults.
Pete Parker has been waiting for his new-found star to arrive and scurries over, gushing his warm congratulations and shaking him by the hand. ‘What are you going to sing in the final then Frank?’ he asks. ‘Who said anything about a final?’ Asks Frank, trying to get the attention of the waitress. ‘Well of course you are in the final with a voice like that.’ The waitress arrives with a plate of freshly cooked breakfast, much to the surprise of the gathering, who have been eating semi-cold fare all week. ‘You were great yesterday,’ she smiles as she places the food in front of him, ‘I can’t wait to hear you in the final; I’m sure you’ll win.’
Frank stuffs his mouth with food, turns to Scotty and makes a gesture with his fork. Scotty signals for Pete to leave it awhile and he flounces off, bestowing elaborate greetings to his other campers as he progresses towards the exit.
The family wait patiently in silence for Frank to finish his food, then Robbie pipes up: ‘Can we still have the bikes Uncle Frank?’ The other boys are sending pleading looks in his direction. ‘Course you can; why wouldn’t you?’
He says nothing to the adults and they decide to follow suit but Scotty feels particularly badly to have got on the wrong side of his best pal. As they all get up to leave, Frank strides off with the boys in tow while the rest of the group file out into the dismal day with dismal looks on their faces. Even the prospect of the forthcoming wrestling tournament does nothing to lift the mood and Scotty racks his poor little brain to find a way back into Frank’s good books.
By the time the Pig and Whistle opens its doors at eleven o’clock, Frank’s mood has softened and he greets Scotty as if nothing has happened, much to the relief of everyone. The camp entertainers have set up an ancient movie projector ready to show filmed horse racing from America, featuring long-dead nags from decades earlier. The campers file back and forth placing their bets and sit with their drinks as the action flickers on the screen.
Dawn wins £2 on the first race and decides to wager the lot on the second. The others have won nothing but place their bets anyway. This event is always a good money-spinner for the poorly paid staff, who try their best to stir enthusiasm with one of them giving commentaries in the style of Murray Walker, who actually has nothing to do with horse racing but does have a distinctive excitable form of delivery.
By the third race the crowd have warmed to the occasion, helped by the alcohol and the occasional win of £1.50 or £2 a time, the best return they can hope for on a 50p outlay. It’s only a bit of fun, after all.
The last of the six races is the big one, with a possible jackpot of £10 for picking the first 3 past the post. The organisers know this is almost impossible, especially as the film selection is not made until after all bets have been placed and they have marked every reel with code to make sure the main winners will not be the punters. Of course they have to see that at least one gets the jackpot, to stop any suspicion of a fix. Today it is Frank Ridley’s turn as Pete is desperate to get him to take part in the final of the talent competition.
The film begins and the crowd shout their encouragement to the ghostly participants, as if they have any influence on the outcome. The horses hurtle round the final bend and up the straight to the finish line. The crowd are on their feet screaming out for their horses to urge them on, then it’s all over and the result is posted on the screen, to groans and grumbles from all around. ‘You’ve won the jackpot,’ shouts Mavis, looking at Frank’s ticket. He checks it again and waves the paper above his head. ‘Over, here,’ he calls, ‘I won the jackpot.’
The money covers the next two rounds of drinks and crisps but everyone is happy again and looking forward to the wrestling. ‘Don’t forget to bring that big heavy handbag,’ Mavis reminds her daughter, ‘that dirty Masked Marauder is on the bill.’ Scotty and Frank look at each other, smiling and shaking their heads. It will be a laugh though.