Search for the Sunlight

On his arrival at the scrap yard, the big iron entrance gates were securely locked.

“Paff!” he uttered in annoyance, having come all this way.

A badly painted sign, in dripping black paint on white melamine-faced chipboard, hung on the fence. It read: ‘John and Tom Rummage. Dealers in scrap metal and miscellaneous salvage.’

Below, another notice said: ’Early closing, Wednesday, 1:00 pm. No further business till Thursday 8:00 a.m. Signed: ‘The Rummage Bros.’

A further sub section informed prospective clients thus. ‘In the event of an emergency, ask the horse with no mane for details.’ Harry was confused. “This is Friday and it’s only 11: 30 a.m.” he grizzled. “The yard should be open!”

Little did he know that the Rummage brothers were of the potato family. Dirty, fat and lazy! The truth was they took every afternoon off.

As he walked alongside the high wire mesh fence looking for a means of entry, on the inside, tethered to a rusty iron post, was a mangey old cart horse.

The poor beast looked as if it hadn’t eaten a proper meal in months and Harry had to concentrate hard to stop himself from staring at its emaciated body.

“Excuse me,” he called out, in a bid to gain the horse’s attention. “Are you the horse with no mane?”

“Aye that’s me, Neddy Hallpike. T’horse wi’ no mane,” the nag replied in a strong northern brogue. “And what can I do for thee, lad?” the creature enquired obligingly.

Harry introduced himself and informed the old horse that he had read the sign on the gate, which said, and he quoted, ‘In the event of an emergency, ask the horse with no mane for details.’

He pointed out that, he had travelled a long way and in his opinion, this was an emergency.

With that, he held up his shopping list for Hallpike to see and explained that should he return to the plateau without the required parts, he would suffer the wrath of Sherlock B. Treewood. A serious issue by any standards

The horse studied the list and, after carefully considering Harry’s request, replied, “Aye, you’ve a kind face lad. Hop over t’fence and help thyself to all thy need. Oil’s in t’tank over in t’corner, behind t’office and all t’spare bearings are in t’big crate on t’left. Now, off thee go, and I’ll pretend I saw nought.”

Harry was struggling to understand Hallpike’s strong regional accent, but he got the gist of the conversation and thanked the old nag for turning a blind eye. With the horse’s permission granted, he scaled the high wire mesh fence and followed the arrow that said: ‘Site office this way.’

The so-called ‘Site office’ was nothing more than a scruffy wooden shed. On one of the rotting wooden shiplap panels, another badly painted sign read, ‘Warning! Watch Frogs in operation at all times.’

Thinking quickly, and to avoid recognition, Harry put his shades on and walked cautiously round to the other side of the ramshackle shed. Although he had never met them, he was fully expecting the Rummage brothers to jump out from behind one of the numerous piles of assorted junk and assault him. But his fears were unfounded for nothing of the sort happened.

He crept on, staying close to the shed for protection until, just around the corner, only a few yards in front of him, a big, dark green, painted metal tank marked ‘OIL’ appeared.

“That’ll do me,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

Conveniently piled up in a random heap next to the tank was an assortment of dented and rusting Jerry cans. Selecting the biggest, he removed the lid and began to fill the container from a well-lubricated brass tap on the side of the tank. “This ought to keep them going for years!” he muttered. When the can was full, he secured the lid, wiped the spillage from the sides with some old rags and stuffed it into his lapsack. Next, he turned his attention to a big wooden crate marked ‘Odds and Sods’ and began sifting through the contents for the spare parts as per Douglas Dunlop’s shopping list.

Eventually, with his bulging bag unable to hold any more swag, he thanked Hallpike for his discretion and clambered, with difficulty, over the fence and made his way back up the steep hill, towards the plateau.