Scrap CH THREE part 21

Scrap CH THREE part 21
There are some folk who cannot abide rainy weather and Ken Chapman is one of them, which is one of the reasons why he has taken to spending his summer holidays in Spain. Another reason is that he has found it a perfect cover for his import business. His touring caravan and Vauxhall Victor car have never been searched by Customs and even if he did get a pull he believes the merchandise is so well hidden it would not be detected. For the last four trips this has proved to be a very profitable side-line and he is planning a meeting with one of his cronies in Marbella with a view to expanding the franchise.
This morning however he is feeling decidedly grumpy. Since she got her feet firmly under his table, Lesley has grown increasingly difficult and demanding, giving less and less in return for his generosity. More than once he has been on the verge of slinging her out but he is not sure how much she knows about his clandestine activities and is reluctant to make an enemy of her just yet.
The windscreen wipers on his Transit van need replacing and he can barely see through the mud-smeared screen as he heads down the unadopted road towards Casey’s scrap yard, where he hopes to put a proposition to Danny regarding the import business. Unfortunately the man is not at home and won’t be for several days, which puts Ken in an even worse mood. As he pulls onto the tarmac road and turns in the direction of the yard he sees a lorry and trailer in the distance, which he is almost sure belong to him but the screen is so dirty he cannot be certain and loses sight of it as it turns towards the docks and is swallowed up in the traffic. If that is Fat Frank, what the hell is he doing in this part of the Island? He wasn’t at the scrap yard so where else could he have been? Jason Coward’s new place perhaps? He wouldn’t tell him if he had been; anyway he could be mistaken but his mind is whirring overtime as he wonders what his star driver is up to this time and he decides to take a detour to the docks to see if he can find out.
Frank is stuffing his face in the canteen when Ken arrives, a look of thunder on his face. ‘Morning boss and how are you this fine day? ‘The boss is in no mood for flippancy; he gets a mug of tea and a friendly smile from Ivy before plonking himself down opposite his nemesis. ‘I thought I told you to bring a load of pallets back from the market; in fact I know I told you to pick up a load of pallets and deliver them to that place up near Chatham, so why is it that the man hasn’t seen you or your mate all week?’
The wily driver takes his time finishing his meal, dabbing delicately at the corners of his grubby mouth with a paper napkin and finishing his tepid tea before replying. ‘You did indeed tell us to fetch used pallets but somebody got there before us. They’ve been going round signing up the stand owners for exclusive rights to take away any unwanted pallets. Apparently there’s good money to be made selling them back to the suppliers; money for nothing you might say.’
Chapman has never been any good at hiding his emotions and the look on his reddening face tends to suggest he is about to explode with rage. He has a good idea of who this mystery businessman might be and it infuriates him to think that his drivers are using his vehicles to transport goods for their own benefit. He doesn’t know for certain that is what’s going on but putting all the pieces together, the late returns to the yard, the sighting of his lorry near Jason Coward’s yard, the sudden decision by Scotty to buy his own house, it all seems to add up. He leaps to his feet, sending the chair flying against a wall and strides out to the lorry park where he proceeds to grab a sledge hammer from the back of his van and attack the vehicle with it, taking out his anger on the inanimate object.
A crowd gathers to watch as Ken wields the hammer with all his might, smashing every piece of glass and denting every panel before running out of steam and leaning, exhausted, against the wreckage gasping for breath.
Frank saunters across, surveying the damage and reckoning the van is a write-off. ‘I know a good panel beater down at Teynham if you’d like his number,’ he remarks casually. Chapman stares coldly in his direction, too spent for any further response. Frank’s lorry number is called on the public address system; he shrugs his shoulders, turns away and climbs into the cab. A quick pip on the hooter and a wave of the hand is all that is needed for his boss to chase him a hundred yards up the road shaking his fist before giving up, out of breath. ‘He’ll push that man too far one of these days,’ Beanpole comments to the other drivers who have witnessed the scene, and they mutter in agreement as they disperse, leaving Chapman to phone Lesley and tell her to pick him up, pronto. She is not best pleased as she had planned a day at the beauty salon and will now have to cancel. She wonders sometimes if he is worth the trouble.
‘What set Ken off this time?’ Asks John, the chief stevedore, who has already heard of the commotion. ‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ Frank answers, ‘he’s got some bee in his bonnet; you know what he’s like, he’ll have calmed down by now.’ He hands over his loading ticket and watches as palleted crates of oranges are fork-lifted onto the trailer. He doesn’t bother trying to get any extras as the risk is not worthwhile now he has the other side-line going. He will have to give serious consideration to Jason’s proposition: they can’t keep using Ken’s lorries.
Back at the yard he parks up and makes a quick escape before Ken has a chance to collar him; he’s seen enough of his temper for today. He stops by at a small corner shop to buy some essentials: cigarettes, beer, milk, corn flakes and chocolate bars, which will keep him going until he can get to the supermarket. He doesn’t often go to the bigger shops because he can never find what he wants and ends up spending twice as much on things he doesn’t need. People say he’s a fool to pay corner shop prices but he doesn’t care. He can be in and out in a matter of minutes instead of walking up and down aisles of goods searching for what he needs. The shop keepers are friendlier too, but then they have to be otherwise they would get no customers at all. Changing times are unsettling even for the likes of Mr Ridley.
He makes one last call before going home, this time to the little butcher’s shop in the High Street. He parks the car outside his bungalow and as soon as he gets out the dog next door starts barking. His owners are out all day, leaving him chained to his kennel and are probably unaware that the dog barks constantly during their absence. They must wonder why there often seems to be the remnants of a beef shin bone in the back of the dog’s kennel. Frank chucks the latest one over the fence and the dog is silenced, allowing his neighbour a quiet day sleeping.