Scrap CH THREE part 2

Scrap CH THREE part 2
The morning is dragging by at the docks as Scotty dozes in the cab waiting to be called for loading. He curses loudly as someone bangs a fist on the door and jumps out to give the toe rag a piece of his mind only to find a beaming Frank standing there in the same suit he wore for his court appearance all those months ago. ‘Frank, great to see you, when did you get out?’ Enthuses his friend as the two shake hands and inspect each other. ‘You’ve lost a bit of weight I see,’ observes Scotty, noting the loose fit of the once somewhat snug suit. ‘You haven’t,’ counters Frank, ‘what’s she been feeding you; you’ll be catching up with me if you’re not careful.’
Scotty is called to the loading bay and the two pals climb into the cab for the short drive. Frank eyes the smart new surroundings in admiration. ‘Very nice,’ he says, ‘so the old git decided to haul himself into the twentieth century at long last.’ Scotty gives him a brief rundown of the many qualities of the new vehicle then they get out at the loading bay, where the stevedores welcome Frank back to the land of the living. Even John has missed his amusing banter and shakes his hand in welcome. They have all heard what Frank did for the others and have a sneaking respect for his loyalty.
Frank takes off his jacket and helps draw back the curtains on the trailer. ‘You don’t have to do that,’ protests Scotty, ‘you’ll get your threads dirty.’ But Frank doesn’t care; he has spent too long cooped up and it feels good to get some exercise in the fresh air. John can’t resist having a bit of a stir as he remarks that Dawn will be pleased to have her lodger back. The pals ignore him but Scotty feels very uncomfortable knowing that she doesn’t want Frank anywhere near her, but he is not going to let her spoil the moment and the two men get on with loading and securing the pallets of oranges before driving back to the parking area where they decide to treat themselves to a slap-up breakfast.
‘Welcome home,’ calls Ivy as Frank reaches the counter, ‘it’s been a bit quiet round here without you. I’ll make sure there’s plenty on the plate for you, sit down and I’ll bring it over.’ The pals find a table in the corner by the window where the sunshine is breaking through. Several drivers make welcoming comments as Frank passes and he smiles in return. ‘Have you let Ken know you’re back yet?’ Asks Scotty as they make themselves comfortable, ‘only he did promise to keep your job open for you.’ Frank says that he hasn’t seen anyone else yet as he wanted to see his pal first. ‘I stayed up in Chelsea last night with College Smith. We got talking then we went for a few pints and before we knew it they were calling last orders. I hear you’ve been doing a bit of business with him.’
Scotty seems rather uneasy at having to admit to his links with Ray Smith. ‘I guess he was looking for someone to fill in for me while I was otherwise engaged,’ suggests Frank, ‘but don’t worry; I won’t hold it against you. It’s an easy way to earn three hundred and it’s more or less legitimate.’
Ivy brings the breakfasts over and places them on the table with a flourish. ‘There you are Frank, I bet you haven’t eaten this well since you were here last.’ Frank shows his appreciation by stabbing a mushroom and stuffing it into his mouth. ‘Mm, smashing,’ he says with his mouth full, ‘the best fry-up anywhere, thanks Ivy.’ The cook returns to her counter with a swagger in her step and a broad grin on her face, knowing that the compliment is genuine.
Scotty can’t decide whether Frank is testing him, pulling his leg or if College has been underpaying him for the snatch back work. Frank puts his mate’s flushed face down to the hot food and adds nothing to the comment. ‘We’ll probably both be on the next pick up,’ he says between mouthfuls of fried bread, ‘College won’t be fit to drive for a few weeks after that plaster comes off so we should do alright out of it.’
‘Anyway, enough of him,’ says Frank as he finishes the last of the fried bacon and washes the morsel down with tepid tea, ‘I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. You probably need to get some kip and I need to see Ken Chapman about that job. I hope you’ve been taking care of my motor?’ Scotty assures him that the 4litre R is in top condition and even has half a tank of petrol so is ready to go. He does not, however, make any mention of his move to the new house or of anything else which has happened in his absence. The news will have to wait until later.
Ken seems a little embarrassed as Frank appears in the office, grinning broadly. Lesley his secretary tried to tell him that he was out but Frank ignored her and went straight ahead. ‘Don’t look so shocked,’ he says, ‘you knew I was due out and you did promise me my job back, remember?’ Ken picks up some papers and pretends to be inspecting them, a ploy to catch his thoughts. ‘Well it’s a bit awkward at the moment,’ he starts, ‘I’ve had to get someone else, just temporary mind, so I’ll need to give him notice. When do you want to start back?’ Frank sits on the other side of the desk, enjoying the man’s discomfiture and knowing he doesn’t really want to honour his promise. ‘Soon as you like,’ he replies, ‘I’ve got nothing else on at the moment, and how about taking me on the books and going legit this time?’ Ken’s eyebrows shoot up and he puts down the papers, ‘I don’t know about that mate,’ he stammers, unwilling to do the right thing for once in his life. ‘Only I’m going to need a reference to get a mortgage,’ Frank continues, which is even more of a shock for his old boss.
After some discussion and a little polite persuasion Ken agrees to do what Frank wants, thinking that once the man has got his mortgage he can find some excuse to sack him. Frank knows this is on his mind but he doesn’t care. As long as he gets his house he won’t have any trouble finding the money to pay for it and he has no intention of working for Ken Chapman any longer than necessary.
It’s good to get back behind the wheel of a car again and the leather covered seat feels comfortable and cool on this hot afternoon. Frank takes a drive along the coast road, parks up and walks up onto the shingle beach where a fresh wind is blowing. The beach is deserted save for a few gulls and a mangy looking black mongrel dog who comes up wagging his tail in the hope of making an acquaintance. Frank picks up a bit of drift wood and throws it for the mutt, who scampers off to fetch it, bringing it back and dropping it at his feet. They play the game for a while until Frank tires of it and makes his way back to the car. The dog follows him, a pleading look on his face, but Frank is not in need of his kind of company and he drives away, leaving the dog standing in the road barking in disappointment at another rejection. You and me both, thinks Frank, but I’ve got plans and they don’t include somebody else’s cast offs.