Scrap CH THREE part 25

Scrap CH THREE part 25
Not only has Scotty awarded himself a day off but he has borrowed Ken Chapman’s lorry to move his gear from the old house to the new. Good job the man is sunning himself in Spain: what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Frank has offered to help after he gets back from the Midlands run and loads up again.
Dawn has been up since before dawn, as have the girls who are excited at having a bigger bedroom and two toilets so there won’t be any more queuing when someone is in the bathroom. They have wrapped each of their treasured knickknacks in newspaper to protect them from damage and carefully labelled each box so they know where everything is.
The boys have mostly left everything to their mother and grandmother and are sitting at the breakfast table stuffing their faces with cornflakes and Rice Krispies. Their new room will be just as crowded as the one they share now but the garden is bigger and dad has promised to rig up a goal net for them.
Mavis has taken charge of the twins, much to the relief of all, looking after them in her own house for the day. It gets her out of lugging boxes about and getting no thanks for her efforts and anyway she loves showing off her grandsons to the neighbours.
Like a line of giant ants the family begin ferrying their belongings up the path to the trailer, where Scotty tries his best to keep up with the relentless flow, stacking as best he can. Fortunately it is not a long journey so it doesn’t much matter if the load is a little uneven.
Frank bowls up just as the girls are struggling with a dressing table and they gratefully leave the task to him and their father, disappearing indoors again to fetch lighter loads. ‘We’d best get the heavy stuff down before we put all the small things on,’ suggests Scotty, ‘I’m glad you turned up to give us a hand.’
They work through the morning and each go through the empty house to make sure nothing has been forgotten. Dawn and the girls get a bit tearful as they file out into the sunshine and lock the front door for the last time but Scotty is just glad to be on his way. They are going up in the world and he feels proud to be taking this momentous step.
Dawn has been so busy organising everyone she has failed to spot Frank’s ‘surprise’ but he is not in a hurry and the longer the wait the funnier it will seem. He and Scotty hand down the boxes and smaller items to the troops who duly ferry things to their new quarters then they carry the heavier items themselves. By the time they are finished they are ready for a few cold beers but Dawn says they will have to make do with tea because they don’t have anything else. ‘I do though,’ winks Frank as he disappears over the road to reappear minutes later with half a dozen tins of Carlsberg Export which the two men guzzle down like they have crawled across a desert. ‘That’s better than a cup of tea any day,’ observes Scotty, ‘any more where that came from?’ Frank returns to his bungalow and fetches out the last four cans of cold from the fridge. The pals sit in the shade on upturned packing crates and enjoy half an hour’s peace while the rest of the family buzz about placing belongings in their right places.
Scotty looks at his watch and reluctantly hauls himself to his feet; ‘better see if I can get a load for tonight or Ken will blow his top.’ He walks rather unsteadily through the house, kisses Dawn on the cheek in passing and is in the cab and away before she realises what has happened. She looks round at the stacks of boxes and jumble of belongings and wonders where to start. Frank meanwhile has sloped off home for a kip leaving her to it.
‘You look a bit worse for wear,’ comments the forklift driver as he loads the first pallet of tomatoes onto Scotty’s trailer, ‘rough night?’ Scotty is not used to drinking such powerful fizz, not in such a short time, and is slightly worried that he may get a pull by the law. As he is on private land he feels he is safe for the time being and hopes that the alcohol will have dissipated by the time he has finished loading. Some hope; he struggles to tighten the ropes on the trailer and drives over a bollard on his way back to the lorry park. He decides to see what food Ivy has left to soak up some of the beer and gets into the café just as she is about to lock the door. She scowls slightly but lets him in anyway, having a soft spot for the soft-hearted family man. ‘I’ll do you a fry-up,’ she smiles as she leaves him propped up in a corner, his head in his hands. It takes a good half an hour to drag all the newly washed utensils out and prepare the meal but eventually Ivy places it on the table and nudges the man awake.
‘Thanks Ivy, you’re a pal,’ mumbles the sleepy driver, ‘what would we do without you?’ Ivy has prepared a meal for herself and sits opposite to eat it. It makes a nice change to enjoy a fresh mug of tea and perfectly fried eggs and Ivy likes having company instead of her usual meal for one in front of the television, her only companion. ‘I hear you moved in to your new house today,’ she says, ‘I hope you’re not going to get too posh to come to my café in future.’ Scotty is savouring the crispy fried bread which has been sizzling in a pan of beef dripping. Nobody does a fry-up like Ivy and he certainly will not be going elsewhere for his breakfast. ‘I don’t know how you can afford the mortgage with all your brood,’ adds the cook, ‘I could never do it.’
Scotty explains that the repayments are no dearer than the rent they have been paying but Ivy is not convinced. ‘If any repairs need doing the council pay for it,’ she says, ‘what if something goes wrong with the roof or anything like that?’ ‘That’s what we pay insurance for,’ explains Scotty; ‘don’t worry, we’ve got everything sorted. Anyway with a brand new house you wouldn’t expect anything to go wrong and some of the jobs we’ve needed doing at the council house we’ve been waiting ages for them to send someone and they never get around to it. The window in the kitchen door has been cracked for two years and the toilet handle is held on with a bit of wire. The bathroom taps all drip and the window in the boys’ room won’t open because the frame is rotten so don’t kid yourself that the council will repair things. They don’t exactly hurry themselves but they’re soon on your back if you’re late with the rent.’ Ivy has to agree and secretly she is a little jealous that she will never have a new house to live in but it’s too late for the likes of her and in general she is content with her lot.
The big meal has sobered him up and Scotty thanks his hostess for her generosity. He still thinks it is safer to leave the rig in the lorry park rather than drive it back to the yard. It will only be there a few hours and the walk home will be good for clearing his head, also to give Dawn time to sort out the bedroom so he can have a kip before he has to drive to Covent Garden.
As he walks through the High Street he sees that posters have been pasted all over for Carnival Week which begins on Sunday. The family always look forward to the events, which include the Bonny Baby contest, Glamorous Granny and Carnival Queen, Prince and Princess, all kinds of sporting activities and the Carnival Procession. The highlight of the week for most people is the procession but Scotty looks forward to the fireworks display by the boating lake. He is always driving one of the lorries in the procession so doesn’t get the full benefit of all the excitement, the marching bands and the majorette troupes. At least he doesn’t get roped in for the annual Zulu invasion which the stevedores are expected to carry out. They smear their near-naked bodies head to toe with black boot polish and row from the dockyard up to the beach, where they ‘invade’ to the terror of the holidaymakers. The amount of times they have been kicked in the shins and had stones chucked at them for their trouble. But then again they get their own back by scaring the living daylights out of the kids by rushing at them with their spears and their war cries. No, driving a float is far safer if a little boring and he usually has the company of one or two of his children who delight in waving at the crowds from their positions high above them.
Next week will be a good week, he is sure.