Scrap CH TWO part three

CH TWO 3
Orla is preparing vegetables for the evening meal when her son drives into the yard. She watches through the window as he exchanges a few words with Rosa, who is bringing in laundry from the new rotary clothes airer and braces herself for the difficult conversation to come.
After hanging up his boiler suit and kicking off his boots in the hall Jason enters the kitchen, noisily rattling the door handle as he strides in. ‘Evening Ma,’ he says, bending to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Had a good day?’ Orla asks. ‘Not bad, not bad,’ he says, checking the teapot before pouring himself a mug of the stewed brew and taking a seat at the table. ‘Rosa tells me you want to leave us,’ says his mother, her eyes still on her work, ‘is that right?’ Jason is ready for this and tells her that he wants to take his share of the business and start up on his own.
Orla dries her hands, pours herself a mug of tea and sits at the head of the table, some distance from her son. ‘The problem there,’ she begins, ‘is that there is no share. When your dad passed away everything he owned automatically became mine. As his widow I got everything; the yard, the house, the land and anything else he owned. I only wish I could give you a share but despite the fact he always led me to believe we would be well taken care of should anything happen to him, he left us with very little.’
Jason’s face reddens as anger and guilt fight for his attention. ‘What about the Will then?’ he says, ‘it states that half goes to you and the other half goes equally between me and Rosa.’ Orla shakes her head, sadly. ‘It doesn’t make any difference what he wrote in his Will,’ she tries to explain. ‘The Law says that if one partner dies then their entire estate goes to the one who survives. I don’t make the laws but you can see the logic can’t you? What if he had made a Will leaving everything to the local cat’s home? Would that have been fair? No son, life is not fair; it is not fair that I am a widow at forty six years of age or that I have to accept Danny into my family in order to keep the business afloat. Believe me, I wish things were different too.
‘So where does that leave me then?’ asks Jason. ‘Am I supposed to just carry on doing half the work and getting nothing in return? Well I’m not having it Ma, I deserve better than this.’ Before she has a chance to reply, Jason is off upstairs to his bedroom where he takes out the heavy bolt he bought on his way home, fixes it securely and locks out the World before quietly dragging his hoard onto the bed to check it is all still there.
He removes the rolls of gold coins, peels off the wrappings and slides the shining discs onto the bedcover, running his hands over the delicious treasure. Slowly he begins to count, making little bright piles of sovereigns line up in front of his excited eyes. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine hundred and still more to come. He almost jumps out of his skin as Rosa knocks on the door. ‘Jay, dinner’s ready,’ she tries the handle and is surprised when the door refuses to budge. ‘Are you alright in there?’ her voice is higher in pitch now.
Jason shovels the coins back into the strongbox and pushes it back in its hiding place before opening the door, an odd look on his face. Rosa cranes her neck trying to see into the room but detects nothing unusual. ‘Come on Jay,’ she says softly, ‘I know it’s not fair but we’re all in the same boat you know.’
Her brother grins weakly and follows her down to the kitchen, trying to behave as if nothing has happened. If only they knew what he knows, but how can he tell them now?
The family sit in silence over their meal until Orla can stand it no longer. ‘How about if we clear out the brick barn and you have that for yourself?’ she offers. ‘You can do whatever you like in there and there won’t be any interference. So how about it, son, will you give it a go?’
Danny says he will help and they can sort out all the tools and get them into racks like Jason has always planned. ‘You can take anything you like from the motors coming in before they go in the crusher,’ he continues, ‘it’s a great idea you have there Jay, and every penny you make will be yours alone.’
Jason can see this is the best solution and thanks his brother-in-law for his offer of help. ‘Can we get started in the morning?’ he asks, intent on getting the project under way before anyone has chance to change their mind. ‘Sure we can,’ smiles Danny, ‘now, how about a beer to wash down that meat pie?’
The brick barn is crammed to the rafters with ‘things that might come in handy one day,’ as Bill always put it. None of it did come in handy and Jason relishes the task of clearing the way for his own private business. Danny works enthusiastically beside him, sorting the rusting metal machinery parts, old garden rollers, ancient lawn mowers, prop shafts, and a mountain of perished cross-ply tyres dating back to the 1950’s. ‘What are we going to do with all this junk?’ moans Jason. ‘Don’t you worry about that,’ laughs Danny, ‘I’ll see to this lot; you just get on with clearing the place out and get a smile back on that face of yours.’
Jason is surprised at how much Danny has seemingly changed overnight. He actually seems to want to help him but he is still suspicious; he has seen Danny using his charm on mug punters before and won’t have his own name added to the list of victims who say what a great guy he is, never guessing what he says about them behind their backs. Jason is sure that Danny always has an ulterior motive for being nice, and he is right not to trust him.
Orla brings a tray with mugs of hot coffee and homemade buns to warm them. She is relieved to see the two getting on for once. They sit on piles of tyres to take their break, Orla joining them. She is about to take a bite from one of the warm buns when there is a sudden movement in the back of the barn. Cranky is off his chain and flies past them, setting off a mass exodus from the inhabitants of the cosy nest which has been disturbed.
Orla shrieks, jumps up from her perch and disappears inside the house as Cranky goes berserk chasing fat rats hither and thither. The men leap to their feet and grab whatever is handy to beat the departing vermin as they rush about trying to escape. Cranky catches a big brown varmint, hurls it into the air and stamps on it as it falls to the ground, breaking its back, before catching another and another. He hasn’t had so much fun in years. Forgetting that he is not as young as he was, the old dog carries on killing until there is no further sign of life, then he drops in a heap, panting and heaving but with a happy grin on his face.
The men have had a great time whacking the filthy critters with a broom and a shovel. They pile up the bodies and count twenty three. Out of puff and spattered in mud and blood they retreat to the kitchen to clean up, leaving Cranky to clean up the abandoned buns. Sometimes life has unexpected treats to offer. He stretches out in his new kennel and gives a satisfied sigh before falling asleep in the sunshine, which is surprisingly warm for this time of year.
The men return to work, more cautiously now as there may be further nests to disturb. They carry on until Orla calls them in for lunch. She shouts from the kitchen window, not daring to venture into the yard until the barn has been cleared and declared safe.
Rosa shudders as Danny recounts the story of the rats. ‘You women are too soft,’ he laughs, ‘you should have seen the dog getting stuck in. He’s about seventy in human years and he was bouncing around like a pup. He ate your buns too Ma, must have decided it was his just reward.’
‘Have you found anything worth keeping?’ asks Orla. ‘Not a thing,’ says Jason, ‘I’ve no idea why dad kept all that rubbish. There are at least two hundred old cross-ply tyres in that lot,’ he nods towards a pile in the yard, ‘goodness knows what we will do with them.’ Danny says he will sort it and Orla hopes that doesn’t mean he is going to set light to them. The last time they had a bonfire Bill had put one tyre on it and black smoke had engulfed the yard. She shudders to imagine how much smoke would be produced from all that lot.