Just Another Day (15 page)

He’d heard the whispers over the years and the names of a few of those who were into it, but he always kept his distance and didn’t get involved. He’d been approached on a few occasions with suggestions of earning a few bob. All he’d have to do was just,
‘leave the keys in the ignition for a few minute’s Terry while you go for a piss.’ He always reacted the same way; ‘not interested mate,’ and after a few gentle suggestions had received the same answer over the years the ‘boys’ left him alone and moved onto someone else. There was always someone looking to earn a few bob. Usually someone who could be leaned on a bit. Someone who was desperate for a bit of extra cash. More often than not, that’s all he would get. A bit of extra cash. It was the driver who took all the risks, sometimes he was knocked about a bit or even given a good hiding by his ‘mates’, ‘just to give it a bit of realism eh Bill?’ It was always the heavies higher up the chain who got the rich pickings.

‘
Right then me old mucker,’ said Terry out loud, ‘1
st
gear, nice and gentle, no drawing attention to yourself, no tickets, no speeding and next stop; the Docks.’

He pulled away from the gates of the breakers yard as they were being noisily opened by the morning workers and saw a quizzical look from the guy in his greasy overalls with the cigarette behind his ear.
He gave him a thumbs up and cheery wave and gunned the big diesel engine towards the Motorway as he chuckled nervously to himself, You’ve got no idea mate, not a fucking clue.  

‘
You miserable bastard,’ said Terry out loud to himself as he drove up the slip road of the M5 Motorway heading North, ‘Fifty fucking quid and a lousy bottle of scotch when I’ll be saving your fucking arse. Fifty fucking quid out of 24 million you tight arsed git.’ He began to get more than a little irate at the thought that it was him taking all the risks of losing his licence while his new best friend; who would fuck him off as soon as look at him if it suited, was drinking tea in his nice warm office.

‘
You’re just a twat Frank. A bullying fucking twat’, as the wagon joined the main carriageway. The beginnings of an idea began to form in Terry’s head as he drove towards Liverpool, maybe he wasn’t quite as honest as he thought he was.

Terry pulled up outside the portacabin office in the yard.
He tried to appear calm and relaxed as he walked toward the office door.

‘
Hey bollocks, how come you’re back here with the same box on?’ J.J. Roberts the company mechanic emerged from the trailer yard with his oil stained overalls on and as usual, wiping his hands with a greasy rag. Whenever Terry saw him, no matter what time of the day, he always seemed to be wiping his hands on a piece of old cloth.

‘
Remember when the boss always says he doesn’t make any cock ups with the papers J.J., well he made a cock up with the papers, but don’t tell him I told you.’ He laughed and waved his hand as the affable mechanic shrugged his shoulders,

‘You
must be mistaken there Terry, golden balls doesn’t make mistakes. You should know that by now.’ They both laughed as J.J. waved the tattered old cloth in the direction of the office and turned back towards the forty foot skeletal trailer he had been working on getting ready for next weeks MOT test.

Terry glanced around the yard, other drivers and staff were coming and going, but nobody paid him any attention as he walked towards the door with the delivery notes in his hand.
He glanced up to see Frank looking out of the window towards him. Terry gave him a wink and saw an almost imperceptible nod of the head in return as acknowledgement of his gesture, steady on Frank, thought Terry. You might strain your bleedin neck if you move like that again.

There were two portacabins in the yard, one on top of the other. The lower one served as the driver’s rest room and canteen and was simply fitted out with a few chairs and tables. A stainless steel sink that seemed to have more stains than J.J.’s rags stood in one corner complete with an old kitchen worktop that had been thrown out by one of the other drivers when he’d had a new kitchen installed at home. It was well chipped and cracked but served its purpose of housing the kettle, microwave and small table top fridge. A second hand two ring electric grill finished off the sparse fixtures and fittings except for an old colour TV on a small corner unit on the far side of the cabin. Home sweet Home!

The top cabin was Frank’s office and was reached by a set of metal steps at the side.
As Terry walked up the fire escape type steps and holding onto the handrail, he continued to casually look around to see if any one was paying more attention than normal to his ‘cargo’. Frank was also scanning the yard from his lofty position and was still looking out of the window when Terry entered.

,
Any problems?’ he said as Terry closed the door behind him and continued to cast his eye over the scene below without looking at him, hands casually in his trouser pockets. He knew that this was Frank’s way of letting him know that regardless of the fuck up with the paperwork, he was still the boss.

‘
Wanker,’ he muttered under his breath.

‘
What’s that Terry?’ said Frank as, having carried out his little display of management power, he turned to speak further.

‘
Thanks Boss,’ he said, ‘no problems with traffic or anything on the way up. Good run. I’m just about ready for that bacon butty eh?’

‘
Yeah, I had a little think about that while you were on the way back; don’t think it would be a good idea if the other lads saw you and me having a cup of tea and a butty together, might make them suspicious don’t you think. After all, I wouldn’t do that with any of the other drivers’ would I?’

Terry had expected something like this as he knew that it was just another of Frank’s little ways of asserting his authority over the ‘minions’.  He had to remember his place in the order of things. He was after all, just another fucking driver, plenty of them about, as he remembered a heated conversation they’d had a few months ago when Frank had only paid him half of a promised bonus. Terry had retreated gracefully from his stance
on that occasion as he knew that the boss was right. He would sack him soon as look at him. ‘Always plenty of lads looking for a start eh, Terry?’ He weighed up the odds of coming off better and decided this was not the time for another argument. Frank was already looking for a fight as he knew full well the seriousness of the cock up he had made and now that he had covered his arse by getting the wagon back before any one from the Bank of England staff were aware, he was looking for someone to blame.

‘
Aye, you might be right boss, how about my little bonus and the bottle of scotch then? No one needs to know about that; the lads won’t need to see you giving me a bottle now will they?’

‘
End of the month eh Terry, cash flow’s a bit tight at the moment. Sort you out then. You know the score eh?’

He knew the score alright, whistle fuckin Dixie and kiss the fifty quid goodbye.

Frank knew that he was treading on thin ice to some extent as, apart from him, Terry was the only other person in the company who was aware of the secret transportation and he softened his stance somewhat.

‘
Tell you what Terry, after you’ve had your dinner, take this box up to Preston,’ as he gave him a large manila envelope with the details of another container for delivery. ‘When you get back tonight, you will be the last man back in the yard. I’ll still be here, but nobody else will be. I’ll give you your bottle of scotch and we can have a chat. I’ve maybe got a little proposition for you. It would be better if there’s no on else about.’

Terry wanted to press him on the matter but decided better of it at that time.
‘Sounds interesting Frank, I’ll see you later.’

He made his way down the stairs and across the yard. He manoeuvred the box with the money to the corner of the yard; uncoupled his tractor unit and drove back across the compound to where the box destined for Preston was sat on another trailer. After checking the air brakes and lights, he double checked the numbers, after his last little excursion, he made absolutely sure everything tallied.

He got stuck in traffic on the M6 Motorway and was further delayed at the factory in Preston where he was making his delivery, normally it wouldn’t bother him too much; waiting was part of the job as a lorry driver. You were always waiting somewhere; either on the roads or at the factory, no point in getting too hung up about it.

Maybe it was the proposition that awaited him back at the yard, or maybe he was just tired, but he was more irritable than usual as he headed back down the Motorway and his thoughts drifted back to his twat of a boss.
‘I’ll make that bastard pay somewhere along the line’ he thought as he pulled into the transport yard.

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.