Scrap CH TWO part one

CH TWO 1
SCRAP: discarded metal, fragment, a fight or rough quarrel, a small piece, et cetera.

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The yard is very quiet after the Christmas holidays now that everyone is back to their normal, mundane existence. Rain has been falling on and off for the past week and even with thick socks inside his sturdy boots and a woollen cable knit jumper beneath his lumberjack coat Jason is shivering as he attempts to make space for the big new skip which Danny has bought. His nose keeps running and he stops to wipe it on his sleeve, blinking away tears brought on by the chilly wind.
This area of the yard hasn’t been touched in years. The dog kennel he is struggling to shift is glued into the mire so Jason forages in one of the sheds, finds a crowbar and kicks a brick against the rotting timber. He manages to heave the kennel, bit by bit, to one side, watched by its owner, Cranky, who is tethered to the rear bumper of the pick-up truck. With one last shove, what remains of the lash-up collapses on its side and Jason swears loudly at his luck.
As he picks up the splintered planks he stubs his metal-capped boot against something solid, and clearing away the soil with his foot he sees what appears to be a metal box of some kind. He looks round furtively, to ensure he is not being observed, before digging some more and eventually dragging out a heavy steel chest about the size of a briefcase. Excitedly, he hides the box under the detritus and seeks about to grab something he can use to conceal it before he can spirit it away from any other interested party.
Finding a heap of hessian coal sacks, he takes two of them and stuffs them round the box, then hides the intriguing find to inspect later. Danny and Rosa are taking Ma shopping in the January sales later so he will have the place to himself for several hours. His mind buzzing with imagination at what could be in the box and who could have secreted it there, he gets on with his task in a more hurried fashion. The added speed of his movements, combined with his excitement on finding the box, soon have him feeling decidedly hot.
Jason hurriedly makes space in one of the sheds and tethers Cranky securely in a place where he can come to no harm but can still reach to nip at any intruder. As soon as the coast is clear, he heaves the heavy box onto his shoulder and takes it up to his bedroom. He clears dirt away from the lock and sees that it is secured with a Chubb device. He has seen a key somewhere recently so he searches in the sideboard drawers but finds nothing which will fit. Then he remembers the pocket watch which his father wore every day. His ma gave it him as a keepsake and he retrieves it from the bedside cupboard. On one end of the gold chain is a sovereign in a holder and at the other end is the winding key and the Chubb key.
Excitedly he turns the key in the lock, which slides the cover to one side, revealing a four digit combination device. Now he is stumped as he has no idea of the code number. He rubs at the lock and sees there is something scratched into the metal. It looks like the word Cranky.

He tries a few guesses at what this could mean but the lock refuses to budge. Then he hears Danny’s truck bumping up the track and quickly hides the box before hurrying down to the kitchen where he fills the kettle and sets it to boil. By the time the others arrive he has a pot of tea brewing and an innocent look on his face. Jason feigns interest in Ma’s shopping trip and tells them that the kennel is irreparable. They will need to get a new one. Ma says she is not surprised as it’s been there for 25 years to her knowledge but she is sure Cranky won’t mind making do with the shed for a few nights.
‘Funny chap, your dad,’ she smiles, ‘had dogs all his life and always had one called Cranky. Soon as the old one died he would get another and give it the same name, the same dog tag. He had a real nostalgic streak in him did your dad.’
This gives Jason an idea: maybe there is a clue to the code on Cranky’s chain. There must be a reason why his father always kept that name and the same identification tag. He is eager to check his theory but dare not until the coast is clear for fear of arousing suspicion. He barely sleeps during the night wondering about the contents of the box and trying to remember if he has ever seen it before and whether anyone else knows about it. There must be something of value hidden inside for it to have been secreted so well.
Jason is first into the yard in the morning and giving the dogs their morning feed and water. He slyly examines the chain around Cranky’s neck and can just make out some numbers on the identification tag. Unfortunately this turns out to be the yard telephone number. He rubs at the rusty disc but can find no clue to the combination code and wonders why his dad set up such an elaborate security measure. If Ma knows about the hidden strongbox then why hasn’t she mentioned it? If she doesn’t know then why did dad keep it secret even from her? He must get the box open one way or another.
He finds it hard to get on with his work but knows he must carry on as normal. Rosa keeps giving him questioning looks; she knows him too well. ‘Are you up to something?’ she asks, handing him a mug of tea and taking hers seated on a pile of tyres next to where he has been working. Jason attempts an innocent look but fails. ‘I’ve been thinking about my new year resolution,’ he lies, on the spur of the moment. ‘I’m going to ask Ma for my share and get a place of my own.’ He seems just as shocked at this statement as his sister but it’s out of his mouth now and it will surely mask what is really on his mind.
The day drags by and it is after everyone else has retired for the night that Jason feels it is safe to lift the box from its hiding place beneath the bedside cabinet. He turns the tumblers on the combination lock, trying dozens of variations, each ending in the same result. Frustrated, angry and still grieving for his father he pushes the box under the bed and takes out the pocket watch. ‘Why did you do this to us Pa?’ he asks, under his breath.
He remembers that the pocket watch has a repeating mechanism which he was allowed to set off once every Christmas day. He remembers the ting, ting, ting of the hammer striking against the tiny bell and being allowed to watch as it counted out the hour before Pa would click the cover shut until the following year. Now the watch was his and he could set off the alarm whenever he wanted but somehow it doesn’t seem right.
Carefully Jason prises open the back of the watch case to reveal the jewelled movement. It looks as clean and fresh as the day it was made and he still marvels at the intricacy of the minute posts and cogs, the hair spring and twisting balance wheel. Tilting the case toward the bedside light he examines the gold for any inscription. The 14carat hallmark is beautifully stamped, along with the date letter and mark showing it was assayed in London. Pa always said this was a very special timepiece and made him promise to treasure it when his turn came, just as he had and his father before him. Jason was not expecting to have the responsibility placed in his hands quite so soon and thoughts of his loss well up, twisting in his stomach, heaving through his chest and bursting from his eyes. He presses his hands into his face to stifle the sobs, fearful of being overheard. He pulls the bedcovers up over his head and allows the storm to rage and pass.
Feeling empty but calm, he goes to shut the watch case and sees there is a separate catch which he presses to release the front face of the instrument. On doing so a small piece of paper drops into his hand, on which is printed in his father’s script the number 2420. ‘Our birth dates,’ he whispers, ‘mine and Rosa’s.’
His hands trembling, he reaches for the strongbox and turns the tumblers. The lock clicks open and he lifts the lid to reveal an astonishing sight. Tightly wrapped in waxed paper are hundreds, if not thousands, of gold sovereigns.