Just Another Day - Clark Steven - Страница 34
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It was dark by now and usually the heavy galvanised steel gates would be chained and locked but Frank had told J.J. to leave them open as he had some paperwork to finish up. He would ensure the gates were properly locked when he left.
‘You took your time’ said Frank as Terry walked into the office and glanced at the clock above the filing cabinet, ‘7 o’clock and I haven’t had my fucking tea yet.’
‘Not my fault Frank, the M6 was fucking murder. You’re not the only one who’s had fuck all to eat y’know. Me stomach thinks me throats been cut.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. Pull that chair up and let’s have a drink and a chat.
Terry had in fact eaten on the way back from his last job. The traffic hadn’t been too bad at all. He stopped off at the Little Chef on the A59. Fuck you and your bacon butty, thought Terry as he settled back and tucked into a full English with extra toast. It wouldn’t do the gaffer any harm to wait around for him for a change.
Terry pulled the chair over and they sat across the desk looking at each other as Frank slid the drawer open and pulled out two bottles of scotch.
‘This one’s yours,’ he said as he pushed the bottle across the desk. ‘We’ll crack this one eh?’
‘Thanks Frank, I think I need that after today.’ He watched as his boss poured the whisky into two cracked and tea stained mugs. He smiled as he saw that Frank’s mug had a fair bit more than his. Can’t help himself thought Terry, still, might come in handy. They ‘clinked’ mugs and said in unison, ‘cheers.’
‘I know you’ve had a rough ride today Terry, hauling that box back up here knowing what was in the back, it must have taken a lot of concentration, not to mention the risk to your licence if you’d have got stopped by the Ministry men or the Bill. Appreciate that, I really do.’
‘You wouldn’t have thought so; you sure let me know who was boss when I got back at dinner time. Fucked me off good style.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. He’re, this is for you.’ He pushed an envelope across the desk. It wasn’t sealed and Terry opened the flap.
‘A hundred quid,’ said Terry in utter disbelief. Frank must have found God or something; he never expected to see the fifty he was owed, never mind double that.
‘I realised I over reacted when you got back before, it was just such a relief to see you turn into the yard. You’ve got no idea what had been going through my mind when it dawned on me as to the fuck up I’d made. It was just about midnight last night when I realised you’d taken the money container and not the scrap metals box. When I couldn’t get hold of you either by phone or text message, my brain went into overdrive. I couldn’t tell any one what I’d done because of the secrecy clauses in the contract. I thought about driving down to Bristol in my car, but I’d had a few scoops here at the office while I was doing the papers and the state I was in, I would’ve definitely had a smash on the way.’
Frank took a large gulp of his whisky, loosened his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves a bit. Terry saw him visibly relax as he slung his jacket over the back of his chair.
‘D’ya know where you were in my mind at half past six this morning Terry. Go on, have a guess. Bet you can’t. Bet you don’t get it.’
He watched as Frank took another large gulp of scotch and he could see that he had a bit of a drink problem as he seemed to be getting drunk far too quickly. There had been plenty of talk and rumours amongst the drivers for quite some time and now terry was looking at the reality in front of him. He rightly figured that Frank was just topping up. He had been drinking during the afternoon while Terry was driving back from Preston and with no food in his stomach to absorb the scotch; it was taking effect faster than usual.
‘Go on Frank; put me out of my misery.’ Said Terry as he could hear the slight slurring of words as his boss leaned over the desk towards him.
Frank half filled his mug again without offering any more to Terry. Normally, he would have been quite pissed off about this but now, he thought it would be much better to remain sober. Frank was getting well oiled and there was no way he was going to be able to drive himself home. Terry could sense that there may be a good opportunity to pump him for information about the loads. He knew that Frank would never remember what he’d said in the morning and would probably be back to his obnoxious self. He needed to make the most of his boss’s chattiness.
‘I’ll tell you Terry, but you won’t fucking believe me my old friend. You’ll think I’m taking the pisssh.’
My old friend! Thought Terry. Now he knew Frank was pissed.
‘The Tunnel mate.’
He was somewhat nonplussed by Franks statement.
‘The Tunnel? What the fuck are you on about Frank.’ He spoke in a jovial, light hearted way as he wanted to keep Frank on side. In fifteen years, he’d never seen him like this and despite the drink problem, or just maybe because of it, they’d never had much conversation before. Terry began to realise that Frank kept everybody at arms length, never let them in to his thoughts because of fear. Fear, that people would see the weakness in him. Fear that they would guess his alcoholic secret.
Frank thumped the desk in a friendly way.
‘The Channel fucking Tunnel mate; Spain.’
Terry just looked at Frank as he was grinning. The kind of silly grin that only someone slightly worse for wear can achieve.
‘I thought you’d done a runner mate. I thought you’d found out what was in the box, switched your phone off delib, delibbret, on purpose like, and pissshed off to Spain through the Tunnel.’ Frank began to stare into the distance and Terry could see his eyes becoming glassy. shit, he thought, I won’t get fuck all out of him tonight at this rate.
‘I cried Terry. What d’ya think of that eh, me, The fuckin hard arsed transport manager cryin’ like a fuckin baby.’
‘What d’ya mean Frank. When was this?
He looked down into his near empty mug. He was silent for a few moments as if pondering what to say next. He looked up at Terry across the desk as a single tear rolled down his cheek. It was as if the change of thought, or the realisation that he was actually speaking to some one about his feelings, something he had never done to any one, not his family, certainly not one of his employees before. He knew he was talking because of the drink but somehow, it didn’t seem to be an issue. It didn’t matter anymore who it was; some one was sitting in front of him, listening. They weren’t making any judgements, they weren’t having a go at him for his drinking, they were just listening. That was enough.
Terry saw the single tear; he watched it roll down from the corner of his eye, drop from his cheek and land on the desk top calendar. He was unsure what to say to Frank as he watched the tear drop spread out as it was absorbed by the paper. It was as if the moment had done something to sober him up somewhat and Frank began to speak in a clearer voice as he continued to look at Terry.
‘After I finally reached you this morning and realised that all you had done was switch your phone off to get a decent kip; that there was nothing wrong, it was as if the relief became too much. You’re not daft Terry. You can see that I’ve got a problem.’ They both glanced toward the near empty bottle of whisky and then back to each other.
‘I’ve been making a few mistakes recently because of the bottle, but I’ve never done anything like this before. In my mind, as far as I was concerned, you were on your way to Spain with 24 million quid to spend and I was in prison because I had told you all about it and everyone thought that we had planned it all together, you were my accomplice. You and me were partners in crime. Except we weren’t. As far as I knew, you were about to live the high life and I was about to do twenty fuckin years. When I put the phone down after you agreeing to bring the box back, the flood gates opened Terry and I cried like a fuckin baby for I don’t know how long. I locked the door of the office, switched the computer off, took the phone off the hook and sat next to the filing cabinet and just cried.’
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