Scrap CH THREE part 44

Scrap CH THREE part 44
‘Whose idea was it to buy a whole container load of candles?’ Bettina is standing at Jason’s side with the invoice in her hand, furious that such a big decision has been made without her permission. Jay frowns, takes the paper from her and raises his eyebrows when he reads the amount to be paid before handing it back. ‘Frank said that if we really do start getting power cuts we’ll make a killing because everyone will want to buy them and the shops will soon run out of stock.’ Bettina is not convinced; ‘and if these phantom power cuts don’t come about we’ll be left with 16 tons of candles that nobody wants. If we have to pay this invoice straight away it will wipe out most of our first month’s profit. It’s too late now: they won’t take the load back, but I hope you’re going to have it out with Frank.’ Jason mumbles some sort of agreement although his irritation is obvious as the girl is not a partner in the business and has no right to be calling the shots. He is wondering now if he has let her get too close to him.
He looks out the window and sees the man himself driving into the yard. By the time he has run down the stairs the lorry and trailer are neatly parked and Frank is filling the fuel tanks ready for his trip to Leicester and Coventry. He looks up from his task and smiles broadly. ‘You’re looking suspiciously pleased with yourself,’ Jay grins, ‘is there anything I should know about?’ Frank says nothing but winks an eye. He locks the filler caps firmly in place, fills the washer bottles with fresh water and washing up liquid and gives the windows a wipe over before locking the cab. ‘I don’t need to leave until about 9pm,’ he tells his young friend, ‘but if you can make sure the dogs are not loose, only one of them had a go at Scotty yesterday and scared him half to death.’ Jason assures him he will have the dogs tethered and is a little disappointed when Frank refuses his offer of a brew. He is running out of excuses for avoiding his secretary.
He waves Frank off and holds the gate open for his skip lorry driver, Roy Jackson. ‘You want to take a good look through this lot,’ shouts Roy above the roar of the engine, ‘these house clearances could become a little gold mine.’ He parks up and the two of them set about rifling through cardboard boxes of what were once the treasured possessions of some old boy who died leaving no family. The council called Jay in to clear the house so they can rent it out again, even paying him for the service. Roy points to a walnut veneered chest of drawers which has had a hard life, its gilt brass handles broken or hanging off, the drawers stiff with damp. ‘I got the top drawer open and there’s a few bits of jewellery in there you may want to see first. There’s a silver watch must be worth a few quid and a gold wedding ring, well it looks like gold.’ They drag the chest to the floor and heave it inside one of the workshops.
The two men spend an hour or so absorbed in the task of rootling through the old man’s belongings, putting aside anything which may have some resale value. They finish with a stack of crockery, some of it worth a few quid, most of it a few pence, a small amount of jewellery, mostly damaged, the silver plated watch which does at least work and a baker’s dozen set of leather bound Encyclopaedia Britannica which doesn’t look like it has ever been used. The rest is piled back into the skip for Roy to drive to the rubbish pit at the far end of Jason’s land. ‘I’ll join you in a minute and we’ll get a bonfire going,’ he shouts up to the man as he settles in the cab. Roy raises his hand and picks his way through the yard and up the narrow road way to the tip. Jason loves a good burn-up and it will get him away from Bettina for a few hours.
He sprints upstairs, puts his head round the office door and calls out that he will be working up at the tip for a while. Before Bettina has chance to object he has shut the door and disappeared.
Scotty arrives at the yard with his load of potatoes for London deliveries and makes sure the dogs are tied up before getting out the cab. He quickly fills the diesel tanks, tops up the water bottle, locks the cab and drives away in his car before Bettina can nab him. He can’t understand why Jason lets her speak to them the way she does but feels he has to humour the man so he has kept his mouth shut thus far. He is ready for his bed today and doesn’t want to waste time arguing with anybody.
Pootling along the Low Road towards home he has to take a second glance at a car coming towards him. The driver’s eyes are fixed to the road ahead but he would know that face anywhere: Dawn is gripping the wheel with both hands and her mother is braced against the passenger door, a look of grim hope on her face. As they pass each other, the two women completely unaware of his existence, he laughs out loud at the sight and can only pity the poor twins who are crammed into the carry cot on the back seat of Mavis’s Morris Minor. Fortunately they are too young to appreciate the danger they may be in.
He is still grinning as he arrives home and picks the mail up from the door mat. It seems to be mostly birthday cards but he can’t remember who they are for. Dawn will know he is sure; it must be one of theirs because she asked him for ten quid to buy a present. He leaves them on the hall table next to the ivory coloured telephone, has a quick wash in the bathroom and falls into bed. His beloved will not be best pleased to learn that he has turned in without having a proper bath because she put clean sheets on the bed this morning and one of her little joys in life is getting into a clean fresh-smelling bed.
Mavis is quite shaky as she gets out and stands on firm ground after being tossed from side to side in a hair-raising drive home. Dawn, on the other hand, is full of the joys of spring, having convinced herself that this driving lark is a doddle and she is feeling very pleased with herself for getting them back in one piece. ‘Here we are, I told you I’d be a natural,’ she is babbling as she drags the loaded carry cot from the back seat. ‘We’ll have to do this again tomorrow,’ she adds, as her mother hastens to the toilet and locks the door. She is just relieved to still be alive.