Scrap CH THREE part 3

Scrap CH THREE part 3
‘Uncle Frank’s here,’ shrieks Robbie as the man himself follows Scotty up the path to the kitchen door. Before he has had time to get indoors Frank is met with all six of the older children keen to tell him their news and all babbling at once. ‘Keep the noise down,’ scolds Dawn from the front room where she and Mavis are trying to get the babies off to sleep. Frank hears them both groan as he calls out a cheery hello from his seat at the kitchen table where Scotty presents him with a can of cold beer from the fridge. ‘Welcome home mate,’ he says, raising his tin in salute. ‘Thanks, that’ll hit the spot,’ replies his pal, ‘we didn’t get a drop inside.’
Everyone wants to know when did Frank get back, will he be moving back in to the motor caravan, when does he start work again, where has he been all this time. Scotty tells them to calm down and let Uncle Frank get settled back in before bombarding him with questions. ‘Anyway,’ says Janet, ‘we all know where he’s been and we’re glad to have him back,’ to which the others reply in the affirmative. Frank puts his hand in his pocket and draws out a five pound note. ‘Here, treat yourselves to a few sweets,’ he grins, handing the money to Janet. The children are soon out the door and peace reigns. ‘It’s good to be home,’ smiles Frank, ‘but you’d best be off for a kip and I’ve got things to do so I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be taking over from Walker when he gets back from Leicester. He won’t be too happy about it but Ken owes me so he’s going back to BRS if they’ll have him.’
The rain has washed most of the dust from the car and Frank turns on the radio to keep him company on his journey to the one remaining lock-up which he has kept. He stops off at the Estate Agent’s office to pay another six months on the rent and makes enquiries about getting a mortgage. After filling in some forms he continues on his way singing along with the radio and enjoying the freedom.
His is number six in the row of twelve lock-up garages and he has to pull out some clumps of grass which have grown up in his absence before he can ease the doors open. Everything is just as he left it, which is a relief knowing how many tea leafs there are in the area and he moves a few things around before finding what he is looking for. He takes the rough wooden orange crate and places it in the boot of the car, locks the garage and starts for the scrap yard. He’s going to need money for furniture once he moves into his new bungalow and the price for scrap silver is at an all-time high.
Scotty has forgotten to put any petrol in the tank despite assuring him that it is half full but Frank is in a forgiving mood and there is enough to get him to the Gull Filling Station where he can fill up and get his Green Shield Stamps. The forecourt is empty as he pulls up at the pump. The assistant comes out from her corner of the shop to serve him and Frank is surprised to see it is young Bettina from the dockyard café.
‘Hello there, don’t you work at the caff anymore?’ Asks Frank as Bettina struggles with the locking petrol cap. ‘Here, let me,’ he adds, as he removes the cap ‘didn’t you like it there?’ Bettina is blushing as she replies without looking at her customer. ‘Just wanted a change,’ she mumbles, ‘and Dave was looking for someone so here I am.’ Frank is surprised that the young girl is referring to Barton by his first name as he usually expects his staff to call him as Mr Barton but he makes no comment on this. ‘How long have you been working here?’ He continues, ‘only I’ve been elsewhere these past six months and a lot of changes have been made.’ Bettina finishes filling the tank and replaces the nozzle, checks the tally and asks if Frank wants anything else. He follows her into the shop and selects a handful of chocolate bars. It is clear that Bettina is in no mood for conversation so he pays what he owes, wishes her good day and leaves, probably making more of her silence than he should but knowing Barton enough to have his suspicions.
The dogs are unusually quiet as Frank drives in to the yard, barely lifting their heads as he gets out the car and opens the boot. He is distracted by a loud wailing noise coming from behind the house and goes round to see where it is coming from. A long line of terry towelling nappies is hanging limply on the line and a baby is squalling for all it’s worth in a pram by the kitchen window. The rain has not long stopped and the sun is beginning to break through as Frank reaches in to rescue the poor mite.
Jason Francis looks up into the beaming face of his saviour and immediately stops his wailing, rewarding the stranger with a wide toothless smile. ‘Hello little chap, where’s your mammy then?’ Coos Frank as he cradles the baby in his arms, ‘what’s she thinking of leaving you here crying like that?’
The kitchen door is flung open and a furious Orla marches out and grabs her grandson from Frank’s grasp. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ She demands, her face red with fury, ‘I was trying to get him off to sleep.’ Frank steps back as she replaces the infant in the pram and the crying resumes. ‘He was crying so I picked him up,’ he explains, ‘where’s the harm in that?’ Orla scoffs at him; ‘you obviously know nothing about babies,’ she scolds, ‘it does them good to have a cry, teaches them they can’t have their own way. It won’t do any harm for him to stretch his lungs a little.’
Frank is not so sure but he turns away from the child and asks where Jason is as he has some scrap needs weighing in. ‘Look at the filthy mess you’ve made of the baby’s quilt,’ grumbles Orla, ‘it was new on this morning now it’s covered in greasy hand prints.’ Rosa puts her head out the bathroom window and calls down to ask what all the commotion is about. ‘Nothing, I’m dealing with it,’ Orla shouts back as she hustles Frank into the kitchen. She softens her tone and explains that Jason has his own yard now, by the old quarry, but if Frank has anything for sale she will be glad to offer him a price. ‘Thanks anyway but I’d like to catch up with Jay so I’ll pop over. Say hi to Rosa for me, will you?’ Orla says she will but she has no intention of saying anything to her daughter about Frank Ridley.