Scrap CH THREE part 22

Scrap CH THREE part 22
‘Blimey, you’re in a mood,’ observes Lesley as Ken thunders into the kitchen almost breaking the glass in the back door as he slams it shut behind him. ‘I’m bloody fuming,’ he seethes, pacing in and out of the room, up and down the hallway. ‘That fucking Fat Frank has been using my truck and my trailer to collect pallets and selling them on for cash in his own pocket. I know he must be doing it because he hasn’t picked any up for me and it’s costing me God knows how much money. ‘
‘Give him the push then,’ suggests Lesley, who is removing items from the dishwasher and placing them in cupboards. ‘I wish I could,’ Ken rants on, ‘but he’s the best man I’ve got and he knows it.’ Lesley shrugs her shoulders, closes the dishwasher door and leans on the sink with her arms folded waiting for the next tirade. ‘You never used to bring pallets back from the market,’ she reminds him. ‘There never used to be any,’ he explains, ‘it’s only in the past six months or so that all the hauliers have bought new Tilt trailers and the bloody things are stacked all over the place.’
His girlfriend frowns, ‘and weren’t you moaning only a few weeks ago about the yard being cluttered up with them?’ ‘That’s before I knew they were worth money.’ Ken is still pacing but more slowly now; ‘that greedy bastard has been cheating me and he’s not getting away with it.’ The front door slams as he leaves without another word, gets into his Vauxhall Victor and hurtles off towards Jason Coward’s yard.
Jason is playing ball with the dogs but they instantly lose interest when a fuming Ken Chapman arrives on the scene intent on a row. He rattles the gate as the dogs leap up, growling and barking furiously at his cheek. Just let him in and see how they deal with the likes of him. But their master takes hold and forces them back, chaining them out of reach of the angry man. ‘What can I do for you?’ ‘Open this fucking gate and I’ll show you.’ ‘Not until you calm down and tell me what’s got you fired up.’ Ken points at the stacks of pallets behind the new office, ‘that’s what’s got to me as well you know. Fat Frank has been using my lorry to fetch pallets to sell to you when he should be taking them to my bloke and earning money for me.’
They remain at different sides of the gate as Jay insists that he hasn’t seen Frank for weeks but Ken knows he is lying and this makes him even angrier. ‘I’ve got contracts for the pallets,’ says Jay, ‘have you? If you wanted to get in on the business you should have been a bit faster on your feet. Nobody wanted the things six months ago now everybody’s trying to get in on the act. Well tough titty because I got there first and there’s fuck all you can do about it. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.’ Ken is left at the fence to throw nothing more harmful than threats and insults but Jay walks away, lets the dogs off their chains and watches as they throw themselves at the gate. Chapman gives up, slams the car door behind him and roars off up the road with the gearbox screaming in protest.
Frank is eager to speak with Scotty and collars him as soon as he is out of the cab in the dockyard queue. ‘Blimey you’re in a hurry, what’s happened now?’ Scotty has time to grab his wallet from the dashboard before he is urged towards the café where there is serious discussion to be had. They order breakfast and take their mugs of tea to a table away from prying eavesdroppers. ‘Ken’s been down to Jay’s yard and nearly caught me unloading the pallets,’ Frank says quietly, ‘we’re going to have to do what Jay suggested and get our own outfit going and quick.’ Scotty tries to disguise a worried look but fails; ‘what if it all goes wrong and we end up out of a job and deep in debt?’ Frank tells him that won’t happen, that they will form a limited company like Jay suggested so they’ll each be liable to no more than £100 if the worst happens. ‘But it won’t: we’ve spent all these years slaving our guts out to make the likes of Ken Chapman rich and now we’ll be working for ourselves. With the contracts Jason has lined up on top of all the work we do now we’ll be rolling in it. He’s willing to lease part of his land and provide a workshop and storage facility, he’s already got an office and we’re both hard workers. We can do it mate, what do you say?’
Before he can reply Ken Chapman strides in, sees them sitting hunched over their tea mugs and muscles in. ‘Having a pow- wow are we lads? You wouldn’t be working out a new way of ripping me off by any chance?’ Ivy arrives with the breakfasts, ignoring the tension and asking if they have heard the latest news concerning young Bettina who used to work as her assistant. Without giving them time to answer she goes on to regale them with the latest gossip concerning the 17 year old. ‘Dirty old git,’ she goes on, referring to Bettina’s employer Dave Barton who owns the Gull and several other garages in the county. ‘Her mum’s going barmy over it, reckons she’s gonna get her uncle Stan to have a word with him and we all know what that means: he’ll give him a right pasting if he gets hold of him. You know he was boxing champion of his regiment in the war, don’t you?’
Being in one of his nosey moods, Frank decides to take a drive out to the Gull in the afternoon and see if he can do a bit of stirring. He arrives just in time to see Stan heaving his bulk out of his Austin 1100. The big man is in an angry mood as he straightens his jacket before striding into the shop. Frank quickens his step to keep up, loitering at the counter as Stan climbs the stairs up to Dave Barton’s office; wrenches open the door and goes inside. ‘Where is he?’ He says loudly to the secretary, who is cowering behind her desk having seen him pull up outside. Without waiting for a reply he proceeds to the inner door and bursts into the small room where Barton is entertaining one of his cronies. ‘I want a word with you,’ growls Stan, squaring up to the younger man, ‘in private.’
The frightened visitor makes an excuse and a quick exit, leaving Barton on his tip toes as Stan holds him by the lapels of his mohair suit. He tries to calm the situation by offering him a drink but Stan is in no mood for niceties. ‘What have you been doing to my niece? You’re old enough to be her father for Goodness sake.’ He grips tighter, shakes the man until his teeth rattle. ‘Come on, what have you got to say for yourself?’
Frank has crept up the stairs to get a better look and is rewarded by the spectacle of self-important Barton begging to be put down and blabbering that he hasn’t touched Bettina, that it’s all vicious lies. Stan clearly does not believe a word of it. He throws the man backwards into his captain’s chair, which whizzes sideways hitting the metal filing cabinet and sending a heavy electric kettle to the floor. ‘Well as from now she no longer works here,’ Stan continues, ‘and just so you understand clearly, you will have nothing further to do with her or you’ll have me to answer to.’
Barton is left shaking in his seat as Stan pushes past Frank and storms out, grabbing his niece on the way. Despite her protestations he propels her towards the car, making sure she understands that she will not be returning. She sits in stunned silence, red in the face as they drive off at speed.
Disappointed at not being treated to a punch-up, Frank follows them out, filching a Mars bar on the way past the counter. He can at least inform Jason that Bettina is looking for a job. She will be ideal for the office of their new business.