Scrap CH TWO part 24

CH TWO 24
Ken Chapman has been finding it impossible to replace Fat Frank. There have been five different drivers since he got banged up and none of them could match Frank’s work rate. Ken had not realised how much money he had been bringing in, working up to 80 hours a week, sleeping in the cab and carrying out running repairs without complaint. The latest driver, Len Dennis is moonlighting from his proper job at BRS because they are on strike and he needs the money to pay the bills. As a member of the TGWU he is taking a big risk but he figures that as most of the drivers are at home kicking their heels or camped out on the picket lines there isn’t much chance he will be caught out.
Seeing as Ken is happy to pay cash in hand and put it down to casual labour Len figures that as long as he keeps himself to himself he will be okay. Of course he hasn’t mentioned any of this to Ken, who seems to assume that he is just the same as any driver trying to earn a crust.
The novelty of delivering fruit and vegetables to poky old wholesale markets has quickly worn off for the new man. Every time he has to make drops in Spitalfields he manages to hit something and has taken to carrying spare bulbs and red nail varnish to use when necessary to keep within the law. Breaking a rear light cluster can work out expensive but if he can fit a bulb into the wreckage and paint it red that takes care of the brake light and the side light can be left bare. Ken is, however, getting fed up with keep replacing the light clusters and has not bothered after the first three times.
The roads seem strangely quiet without the BRS lorries trundling up and down. Len wishes that the Union will hurry up and sort out the dispute. He’s been with the firm since he passed his test and on the whole it is a cushy job with guaranteed 40 hour weeks and overtime whenever he wants it, proper night out arrangements in digs not in the cab, holiday pay, sick pay, no being expected to drive over your hours or make running repairs. Yes he will be glad to get back to normal and away from the chaotic practices of this mob.
He pulls the rig up at the back of a very long queue at the docks and goes in to the canteen for breakfast. The room is packed with drivers waiting their turn at the loading bays and Len places his order knowing there will be a long wait. He sits at the only free seat, which just happens to be next to Jim Stewart, who looks up from his sausage and bacon and greets his fellow driver. ‘How are you doing with our Ken?’ He asks through a mouthful of food. ‘Still finding my way about,’ Len replies, ‘quite honestly I don’t know how you manage it. You can’t possibly get to Gateshead and back, load up again and park up at the yard in your hours, even with a 14 1/2hour spread over.’
Scotty frowns at the new man, who clearly has a lot to learn about driving in the real world. ‘I have to share the work with my co-driver, obviously.’ Len nods his head, ‘I didn’t realise that Ken let us have co-drivers for long runs.’ Scotty stares at him in disbelief, ‘not a real co-driver,’ he continues, ‘a phantom one. You carry two log books and if you get a pull you hand over whichever one will get you out of trouble.’ Len still doesn’t understand and Scotty can’t be bothered to explain. ‘Don’t worry mate, you won’t be asked to go on a long run. Ken keeps those treats for the likes of me and fat Frank.’
Bettina brings Len’s order and sets it in front of him with a shy smile. ‘Thanks love,’ he smiles back before drenching the food with what passes for tomato ketchup and a little salt. ‘I’ve heard about fat Frank,’ he says as he pushes a forkful of beans into his mouth, ‘he’s serving time at Her Majesty’s Guest House isn’t he? He’s been a naught boy, so I’m told.’ Scotty bristles at this, ‘he’s a good bloke is Frank; I won’t have a word said against him.’ Len says he meant no offence and changes the subject. ‘Are you not in the Union then?’ ‘You must be joking; what could they do for me? They take the subs and pay themselves four times what you or I earn and the only thing they can think of is calling the workers out at the slightest thing meaning they have to survive on fresh air while the Union bosses are still coining it in.’
Len argues that they wouldn’t have such good working conditions without the Unions and Scotty counters that the Country wouldn’t be in such a mess if it wasn’t for the Unions. ‘The Government are dead set on breaking them anyway so what’s the good of all these strikes? It doesn’t hurt the rich folk and it never will. They couldn’t give a fuck about the working man, never have done, never will do. I just want to get a fair wage for doing a fair job, same as most of us. You bloody trouble makers won’t get anywhere when firms like BRS go bust.’ Len laughs at him, saying that BRS will never go out of business but Scotty says that if the Unions keep pushing that’s exactly what will happen, leaving thousands of men with no jobs at all. ‘You should be grateful you’ve got a steady job. You wouldn’t want to work for someone like Ken Chapman all your life.’
Scotty is still feeling rattled as he pulls alongside the loading bay but perks up as he begins loading. Working in the fresh air with the sun on his face is a good feeling and he sings along to the radio which blares out from the loading dock. ‘In the Summertime’ is one of his favourites and brings to mind some great times he has enjoyed on summer evenings with a pint in one hand and someone warm in his right.
After the usual argument over the count, Scotty smiles to himself as he drives slowly back to the lorry park to rope and sheet his load. Fifty trays of juicy nectarines will fetch a good price with Solly Jewel; he will probably take a few back home for the family too. He waves to Len Dennis as he passes by the queue which has grown still longer in the past hour and a half. He’ll soon be home in bed enjoying a well deserved kip.