Scrap CH THREE part 13

Scrap CH THREE part 13
Frank has been hatching an idea since selling the load of pallets. If the depot are willing to pay a couple of quid each for them then they must be selling them on for at least twice that and as the stall holders are only too keen to get rid of them from cluttering up their stands Frank is happy to oblige. He decides to pay Jason a visit and see if he will be interested in a business proposition.
The yard looks deserted as he pulls up outside the gates, except for the two dogs which are competing to see who can bark the loudest and look the scarier. Jason pops his head out the window of his new office, a Portacabin which he had installed only the day before. Seeing his friend he quickly chains up the dogs and opens one gate enough to let him in. The dogs cease their barking, opting for low growling and menacing stares instead as the men pass by and into the office.
‘You’re doing well for yourself,’ observes Frank as his eyes take in the scene, ‘if I were the cynical type I would say you had been up to something to get all this lot.’ Jason blushes slightly as he turns away to make the tea, swiftly changing the subject with the proffering of a packet of chocolate Hobnobs, which are opened straight away before he changes his mind. He won’t see that packet again if he knows Frank. They sit in the new swivel chairs by the desk and Jason asks what this business proposition involves. ‘It seems too good to be true,’ he muses, ‘someone must be paying for these pallets in the first place so why do they end up as unwanted goods?’ Frank shrugs, ‘don’t ask me but I do know there is money to be made out of them. The farmers need them to load their goods for market so someone is buying them. I suppose they just add the cost of the pallets to the price of the goods. Think of it as recycling; I know it seems mad but as they have to pay for them in the first place they won’t mind coughing up perhaps a quarter of the price for second hand ones.’
The younger man says he will make a few inquiries and if he can get enough customers lined up he will be happy to come on board. He almost tells Frank about the gold Sovereigns he found back at the scrap yard but manages to keep his mouth shut on that one. He is itching to tell someone but dare not risk it getting back to his mother or his sister and her thug of a husband. The guilt has been troubling him since business at the old yard has slipped and part of him says that it would be good to unburden himself but the larger part tells him that a trouble shared is a trouble doubled and the feeling passes as he considers the money-for-nothing scheme which his friend has come up with.
Dawn is hovering in the front garden when Frank arrives at chez Stewart, pretending to pull out a few weeds. She has been fretting about his motor caravan which has taken up residence behind the hedge since last summer and Scotty is too weak-kneed to tell his pal that his time is up. ‘Good afternoon,’ says Frank, smiling broadly as he hands over a large bunch of carnations which he filched from one of the stands in Covent Garden, ‘for you,’ he adds, handing them over with a flourish, ‘to brighten your day and to say thank you for letting me park the van here all this time.’ This gesture takes the wind out of her sails and she flusters a thank you as she accepts the blooms. ‘We’re moving the van out today,’ adds the lodger, ‘once we’ve had a bite to eat. Anyone fancy fish and chips?’
Suddenly a crowd of Stewarts appears as if from nowhere and they are sent off with a five pound note to purchase the necessary, leaving their benefactor and his pal to enjoy a few tins of cold beer. ‘You haven’t said where you’re moving the van to,’ says Scotty, who is very embarrassed that his friend has to be evicted, ‘you know you could stay if it was down to me but she’s been giving me earache for months about it.’ Frank drains his tin and opens another, fixing an understanding expression before replying. ‘Don’t worry about it mate, I’ve already found a place; I’m grateful you’ve let me store it here this long. We’ll have to sort out those old doors again to lean against the hedge, are they in the shed?’ His pal looks sheepishly in his direction; ‘I think they went on the bonfire,’ he admits, ‘now what will we do?’ The problem will have to wait as the arrival of the food takes priority.
They have no sooner finished lunch when the sound of chimes catches the attention of the children. As usual Frank can’t resist their pleading looks and he reaches into a pocket to fetch out a handful of coins, which he hands over with instructions to get ice creams for the adults as well; ‘and don’t buy for half the street this time,’ he adds.
Dawn clears away the wrappers as the men start on their fifth or sixth tins of beer. ‘I know where we can borrow a few doors,’ she says, having overheard a previous conversation, ‘I’ve still got the spare key to next door. Nobody’s been in there since the exorcism made the hauntings worse. The Smiths have been re-housed and nobody dares move in.’ Scotty’s face colours slightly; his pal spots it and gives him a wry look, getting a wink in return. ‘They won’t be missed if we put them straight back,’ reasons the innocent wife.
Once the ice creams have been eaten and the doors unscrewed from their hinges the men lean them against the hedge and begin the process of easing it forwards. A crowd has gathered to watch, some having seen the process before when the van was installed, others having heard about it wanting to see it with their own eyes before believing it can be done. Scotty has assured the doubters that there was no crane involved but some just cannot see how you can force an established privet hedge to lay almost flat then spring back into place and continue growing as if nothing has happened.
Two of the larger neighbours lend their weight to the task and with four heavy men pushing in unison the hedge creaks and gives, slowly but surely onto the pavement. With Frank easing the van onto the doors and moving carefully forwards the men stand back and watch as he steers over the threshold and onto the road, to a round of applause. The doors are taken up and the assembly make appreciative comments as the hedge gently returns to its normal position, with a little help from the odd booted foot. Frank gets out and takes a bow; ‘and that,’ he announces, ‘is how to do the flat hedge trick. I thank you ladies and gentlemen.’
The congregation drifts away and Scotty helps inflate the tyres, which have sagged over the time they have been sitting on the grass. ‘I hope you don’t intend going far with this old wreck,’ observes Dawn, ‘most of those tyres look perished.’ She gets scornful looks from the men in exchange for stating the obvious and ducks back indoors. Frank takes a rag from one of his boiler suit pockets and rubs dirt from the windows. ‘There, that’s better,’ he claims, although he has succeeded only in moving the grime about a bit, ‘I’m off then mate, thanks for everything and I’ll see you at the Bay later.’