Scrap 62

SCRAP 62
Frank is fast asleep and snoring loudly when he is roused by a small fist tapping on his window. ‘Come back later, I’m trying to get some kip,’ he shouts. A high-pitched voice calls back that it’s nine o’clock, he has missed breakfast and he promised to rent bikes for the boys. ‘Alright, I’ll be with you in a minute,’ says Frank, throwing off the covers and pulling on his trousers.
He opens the door to find 6 year old Robbie waiting. His older brothers have sent him because he is more likely to get the money needed for the bike rental. ‘Here’s five quid,’ says Frank, passing the note to the grubby little lad. Robbie says they need a five pound deposit as well, so Frank fishes out another from his wallet and hands it over. The boy grabs the money and sprints off to find his brothers, who are waiting out of sight. Frank decides not to go back to bed now he is fully awake. Someone said there is a market in town today so he has a quick wash, dresses in trousers and a t-shirt and wanders over to the car.
The drizzly weather continues as he drives in to town, finding a parking space just big enough for the enormous sedan. Several people stop to take a look at the gleaming, chrome embellished vehicle, some even take photographs. Frank smiles as he walks off, proud of his latest acquisition.
The twenty or so stalls in the market are decked with the usual selection of tat, fruit and vegetables, cheap clothes, toys and cakes. Frank browses on the tool stall, inspecting sets of screwdrivers, of which he already owns dozens, retractable measuring tapes, of which he owns at least six, and socket sets, of which he has ones ranging in size from 2mm up to the 50mm ones used on trucks. He still mourns the passing of the old Whitworth English sizes and keeps several sets of those in his lock-up as many parts are still in use which require the old sockets.
He buys a mulit-tool, which the stall holder has been demonstrating, not because he needs one but because it’s one of those things which might come in handy one day.
Frank’s stomach is rumbling and he finds a quiet looking café, glad to get in from the cold. He orders a huge breakfast, takes a cup of tea and a bun to keep him going until it arrives and looks round for a seat. He is surprised to see Rosa seated in a corner, on her own and walks over. ‘Hello, what are you doing here all on your lonesome?’ Rosa’s dull eyes look up distractedly, then spring to life as she recognises the intruder. ‘Frank, I haven’t seen you for ages; come and sit with me. What are you doing in Bognor?’ Frank tells her he is on holiday with Scotty’s family but after only a few days he feels a bit hemmed in so he’s escaped for the morning. ‘So where is your new husband? He hasn’t left you already has he?’
Rosa’s eyes cloud over again as she tells Frank that Danny only stayed one night then disappeared ‘on business’ in Liverpool and Ireland. He won’t be back at their hotel until Friday and they return home on Saturday. ‘Not the most thrilling start to married life,’ she says, ‘plus it’s been nothing but rain and more rain since I got here.’
Frank’s breakfast is placed in front of him and he hungrily starts on the bacon and eggs, wrapping them in buttered bread and taking big bites. He is thoughtful as he chomps his way through the food then he says ‘why don’t you come for a ride with me? It’ll be better than sitting here nursing a cold cappuccino.’ Rosa laughs; she hadn’t realised she has been sitting here for twenty minutes poking at the froth with a spoon and not drinking any of the coffee. Frank asks if she would like another but she shakes her head. ‘Obviously I didn’t really want this one,’ she smiles. ‘Well, will you come for a drive?’ Rosa brightens up at the thought of escaping for a while. ‘Yes, why not?’
Frank finishes his meal and leads the way back to the car, which has attracted quite a crowd, including a traffic warden, who is considering whether or not to write out a ticket but the car isn’t actually parked illegally, simply causing an obstruction by the attention it is drawing. ‘We’re just leaving,’ says Frank, as the crowd parts to let them through. One middle-aged woman comments to her companion that it doesn’t even belong to anyone famous, and the gathering disperses as Frank and Rosa drive away in a cloud of blue smoke. It may be a smart looking car but the engine has seen better days.
As they head into the countryside they both feel awkward in each other’s company, not knowing what to talk about. The rain has stopped at last and a watery sun is trying to break through the thinning clouds. What do you say to the love of your life when she has just got married to someone else? And what do you say when you have just got married to someone else yet you are sitting here next to the love of your life while your husband is goodness knows where doing goodness knows what?