Scrap CH THREE part 16

Scrap CH THREE part 16
As usual Frank drives ahead of the lorry to make sure the coast is clear and on this occasion this has proved to be fortuitous. Scotty has been keeping a lookout for any blue flashing lights and as they turn the corner into Tobin’s street there is a great deal of activity at the far end. Frank immediately turns the car around and hurries back the way they came. On the Main Road some two miles distant College spots a car frantically flashing its headlamps, and realising who it must be he stops and waits for Frank to join him. ‘The Old Bill are all over Tobin’s yard,’ Scotty calls through the open window. ‘Good job you spotted them, I’ll have to divert to the auction site with both of them this time,’ grumbles College. Frank parks in front of the lorry and climbs up into the cab. ‘Best pay us before you go,’ he says, in case the other man forgets. He hands over two rolls of notes, which are carefully counted before disappearing into a jacket pocket. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ adds College as his mate bids him goodnight.
On the way home Frank hands over his pal’s share of the cash and he pockets it without checking, knowing that it is all there. ‘I definitely won’t be doing any more of these runs,’ he says and Frank agrees: tonight’s little dramas have been too close for comfort.
A short distance along the road a figure emerges from behind the hedgerow and the pals recognise the agitated man as Beanpole Brett. They stop and let him in the car, to his obvious relief. ‘Thank god it’s you two,’ he says in a slightly shaky voice, ‘I’ve been in and out of that ditch every time I see a pair of headlights. Me and Harry were in his kitchen waiting for College when the dog started going barmy. There were cop cars coming at us from every angle. I ran upstairs and out the bathroom window onto the flat roof, over the wall into next door and off on my toes. I don’t know how they missed me but I’m sure glad they did.’
‘You do look a bit rattled,’ observes Frank as he studies his reflection in the rear view mirror, ‘Where do you want dropping?’ Brett gives him an address and the two pals exchange surprised glances. ‘Up on the Leas eh? How can you afford a place like that?’ Scotty wishes he had the money to live in one of the big houses overlooking the sea. Brett delivers the excuse he has been working on recently: ‘I got compensation for the eye,’ he declares, pointing to his almost useless left peeper, ‘I did alright out of it in the end, which meant I could buy the place outright.’ The pals resist the temptation to call him a lucky so-and-so as he has actually paid quite a high price, but there is a tinge of jealousy. In reality he has been importing certain goods from Morocco via his brother who lives in Marbella. He has been making so much money he doesn’t know what to do with it, being loathe to spend too much for fear of arousing suspicion.
They pull up outside the large detached house; Brett does not ask them in so they invite themselves, eager to see the inside. Reluctantly he shows them in to the hall, pointedly takes off his shoes so they do likewise and leads them in to the huge modern kitchen. As he switches on the lights they see that the undersides of each of the fitted wall units are illuminated, showing off the expensive Italian tiling and gleaming work surfaces. It’s even posher than Ken Chapman’s gaff and that cost him a fortune. Brett opens the door to a spacious fridge from whence he takes a can of expensive beer for each of them. Then they follow him through to the lounge, which is almost as large as the bar at the Bay Club. They sit on one of the three matching sofas which are positioned in a ‘U’ configuration in front of the elaborate marble fire place with its fitted gas heater and mock brass furniture. ‘Not bad for a lorry driver eh?’ Brett enjoys the envious looks on the faces of his companions, knowing that they will never be able to afford such luxuries.
‘Are you coming to bed or what?’ Calls a female voice from the top of the stairs. ‘Be there in a minute,’ Brett answers, then in a quieter tone, ‘can’t keep the little lady waiting lads.’ This is their signal to leave and they bid each other good night, having glimpsed the sight of a pair of shapely legs disappearing up to the landing. ‘Out of your league,’ adds Brett as he opens the front door, ‘thanks for the lift.’
Frank and Scotty have plenty to gossip about on the way home. Neither of them recognises the voice of the mystery woman or the legs. Obviously Beanpole wants to keep the lady all to himself.
Meanwhile back at the yard the police have exhausted their search and come up with nothing, much to the annoyance of DS Staples, who had been hoping to show off to his new DI; despite the ‘information received’ they have found no drugs or firearms, only a very angry Harry Tobin and a very vicious Alsatian dog. As they drive away Harry breathes a huge sigh of relief, locks up the out buildings and settles Prince with a large chew stick before going into the house. He had a good customer waiting for that JCB and now he will lose out to the tune of several thousand pounds. ‘I fucking hate coppers,’ he curses as he eases his boots off by the back door. Captain screeches his agreement and Harry can’t help laughing at the cheeky bird. He finds a few nuts in one of the cupboards and puts them in the feed tray. ‘Ooh ta,’ croons the parrot, ‘lovey, dovey kiss kiss.’ Harry takes a good glug from the whisky bottle to calm his nerves before he heads upstairs to bed.
Carol and the babies are staying the night with her mother after doing the books for the shop. ‘Little Tinkers’ is proving to be something of a challenge as they have had to put the prices up to cover their overheads. They are rather disappointed at the lack of sales, especially after the success of the house parties. With money becoming scarcer for everyone the luxury end of every market is feeling the pinch and the beautiful Italian prams and cots which were so enthusiastically ordered remain unsold as mothers have reluctantly been forced to buy second-hand when it comes to large items. Not that they need the money but it has been very convenient for Harry having the women out of the way on so many occasions and he doesn’t want them to give up too easily on the project.
He lays in bed listening to the sounds of the night; distant humming from marine engines on the river nearby, rustling of tiny animals, the screech of an owl and the occasional grumbling from lorry engines as they labour up the hill towards the docks. The stars are dimming as daylight creeps in through the roof window and he drifts off to sleep. Sunday is a day of rest, even for the likes of Harry Tobin.