Lloyd's Mechanics

The cavernous garage is dark now, save for the harsh, buzzing fluorescent light above a single workbench. The atmosphere is thick with dread. An empty mug of cold tea sits on the desk in the small office. The phone on the wall is silent, an object of immense menace.

HARRY PETERS is on his feet, pacing the oily concrete floor like a caged animal. His suit jacket is off, his tie is gone, and his sleeves are rolled up. He looks ten years older than he did at the funeral.

SHIFTY LAWSON is slumped in the greasy office chair, looking small and broken. The swagger and hope from earlier in the day have been utterly annihilated, replaced by a grey, hollow-eyed terror. He stares at his hands, which are trembling uncontrollably. They've been driving the local roads for over an hour, searching, calling Jed's name into the darkness, with no sign of the Cortina. No sign of a crash. Nothing. The not knowing is its own kind of hell.

HARRY PETERS

(Stopping his pacing, running a hand over his face)

Nothing. Not a bloody thing. We've called the police, checked the route twice. Where the hell is he? Maybe he went a different way. Maybe he stopped for petrol. Maybe…

He trails off. Every "maybe" is a desperate prayer against the one he truly fears.

SHIFTY LAWSON

(His voice a raw whisper)

Maybe he made it. Maybe the brakes held just enough.

HARRY PETERS

(Wheeling on him, his voice a low, furious snarl)

Held enough? Don't you dare. Don't you dare try and find a silver lining in this, you stupid, stupid boy. There is no silver lining. Best case scenario, he's parked up somewhere safe, cursing our name. Worst case… the worst case doesn't bear thinking about. And it'll be on you. On this garage. On Reggie.

Shifty flinches, curling in on himself as if physically struck by the words.

The main garage shutter rattles, followed by the sound of a heavy fist banging against the metal.

TOM BRADSHAW (O.S.)

Oi! Harry! Shifty! Anyone in there? I know you're in there, the light's on!

Harry freezes, his eyes wide with a new kind of panic. He looks at Shifty, then at the shutter.

HARRY PETERS

(Through gritted teeth)

Get in the office. Don't say a word. Don't even breathe.

Before Shifty can move, TOM BRADSHAW finds the smaller side door unlocked and pushes it open, striding in with his usual unearned confidence. He's holding an old, grimy alternator.

TOM BRADSHAW

There you are. Thought you'd all gone deaf. Evening, Harry. Shifty. You look like you've seen a ghost.

Tom glances from Harry's furious face to Shifty's spectral one, completely misreading the room.

TOM BRADSHAW (CONT'D)

Anyway, my alternator's finally given up the ghost. Making a noise like a bag of spanners in a tumble dryer. Good thing your boy here promised me a replacement. Said he'd have one pulled and waiting for me. So, where is it?

He gestures with the dead alternator. Harry steps forward, positioning himself between Tom and Shifty, a weary lion protecting a very stupid cub.

HARRY PETERS

(His voice dangerously level)

Not a good time, Tom. We're in the middle of something.

TOM BRADSHAW

(Scoffing)

So am I. In the middle of being stuck with a dead car. Look, a promise is a promise. Shifty here looked me right in the eye this morning and said, 'Tom, leave it with me. I'll get a reconditioned one sorted for you, save you a packet.' His words.

Harry's blood runs cold. The lie about the alternator. It's small, insignificant compared to the brakes, but it's part of a pattern. A terrible, destructive pattern. He feels a fresh wave of dread. How deep does this go?

HARRY PETERS

(To Tom, but his eyes boring into Shifty)

He promised you an alternator? Did he show it to you?

TOM BRADSHAW

No, said he had to get it from a mate. A side deal. You know how it is. But he swore he'd have it here by tonight. So I've spent the last hour taking the old one out, and now I'm here to collect.

HARRY PETERS

And did you… did you pay him for this part, Tom?

The question hangs in the air. Shifty looks up, his eyes pleading with Harry.

TOM BRADSHAW

Nah, not yet. He said to sort the money out later. Said he was doing me a favour. Trying to get back in my good books, I suppose. Not that it's working.

A small measure of relief washes over Harry. No money changed hands. It's just another empty promise. But the implications are terrifying.

HARRY PETERS

(To Shifty, his voice deceptively calm)

Trevor. Where is Mr. Bradshaw's alternator? The one you promised him.

Shifty can't speak. He just shakes his head, a tiny, pathetic gesture.

TOM BRADSHAW

What's this? Don't tell me you were talking out of your arse again, Shifty? Standard for you, isn't it? Big promises, no delivery. Some things never change.

HARRY PETERS

(Sharply, to Tom)

Enough. There's been an emergency, a serious one. The part isn't here. It was never ordered. He lied to you.

Tom stares, genuinely surprised by Harry's bluntness and intensity.

TOM BRADSHAW

Well, that's just great, isn't it? Absolutely bloody typical. So what am I supposed to do now? My car's in bits on my drive.

HARRY PETERS

(Reaching into his pocket and pulling out his own wallet)

Here. Go to the big motor factors on the retail park. They're open till nine. Buy a brand new one. The best one they have. And here's another fifty for a taxi there and back and for your trouble.

He shoves a wad of notes into Tom's hand. Tom looks down at the cash, stunned.

TOM BRADSHAW

Harry, I… you don't have to do that.

HARRY PETERS

Yes, I do. Now go. We have to deal with this.

His tone is final. It brooks no argument. Tom, for once, seems to sense the gravity in the air, even if he doesn't understand its source.

TOM BRADSHAW

Right. Okay. Uh… thanks, Harry.

(He looks over at Shifty, shaking his head with a mix of pity and contempt)

Some people just can't help themselves, can they?

Tom turns and leaves, pulling the door shut behind him. The silence descends again, a hundred times heavier than before. Harry slowly turns to face Shifty, his face a mask of cold fury and sheer terror.

HARRY PETERS

An alternator. You promised him an alternator you didn't have. Just like you promised Jed Chesterfield you'd fixed brakes you never touched.

SHIFTY LAWSON

(Voice cracking)

It was just to get him off my back, Harry. He was mouthing off. I was going to tell him tomorrow I couldn't get it. It wasn't like… it wasn't like Jed's. It wasn't dangerous.

HARRY PETERS

WASN'T IT?! It's the same lie! The same disease! You tell people what they want to hear to make your own life easier for five minutes! What else, Trevor? Who else is out there, driving around, relying on one of your little promises? Did you tell Elsie Armstrong you'd checked her steering fluid? Did you promise Karen Jenkins you'd topped up his coolant? Is this whole town a network of your ticking time bombs?!

SHIFTY LAWSON

(Sobbing now, the words torn from him)

No! No one else! I swear on my life, Harry, I swear! Just those two. The alternator was stupid, just words. But Jed… he got to me. He said… he said what I've always thought about myself. That I'm nothing. That I'm not good enough for someone like Charlene. I just wanted to prove him wrong. For one afternoon, I wanted to be the man I was pretending to be. I wanted to be someone you could all be proud of.

HARRY PETERS

(His voice breaking with a terrible, weary sadness)

Proud of? We were proud of you. Frederick was. He gave you a second chance when no one else would. He was bragging about you the other day. Said you were turning a corner. Said you had a good heart.

He gestures around the dark, silent garage.

HARRY PETERS (CONT'D)

And you've ruined it. You've potentially killed a man and you've ruined this place. For what? So you could feel like a big man for five minutes?

Just then, the phone on the wall shrills.

The sound is electric, a physical shock that jolts them both. They freeze, staring at it as if it's a coiled snake. It rings again, loud, piercing, insistent. The phone on the wall rings a third time, a piercing, final shriek that hangs in the air. HARRY PETERS and SHIFTY LAWSON are frozen, two figures trapped in a tableau of dread. With a deep, steadying breath, Harry snatches the receiver from its cradle.

HARRY PETERS

(Into the phone, his voice tight)

Lloyd's Garage. Harry Peters speaking.

He listens. Shifty watches him, his entire world shrunk down to the expression on Harry's face. He sees Harry's shoulders slump, a wave of something that isn't quite relief, but a shift from abstract terror to concrete disaster.

HARRY PETERS (CONT'D)

(Voice low, grave)

Yes, Sergeant… I see… Is he… is he alright? … Thank God. Thank God for that… In the lay-by just before the roundabout? … Yes, I understand… No, of course. We'll cooperate fully… Yes, he's here. I'll make sure he doesn't go anywhere. Thank you for calling.

Harry hangs up the phone with a slow, deliberate click. The silence that rushes back in is heavier, colder. Shifty looks up at him, a desperate question in his eyes.

SHIFTY LAWSON

(A choked whisper)

Is he… dead?

HARRY PETERS

(Turning, his face like granite, his voice devoid of all warmth)

No. No thanks to you. He's alive. The car's in a ditch on Botchergate. A passing fireman saw the whole thing. Said he went into the bend way too fast, fought the wheel, and put her into the embankment instead of going over the edge. He's a good driver. A bad driver would be dead. The police are with him now. He's shaken up, but he's alive.

Shifty lets out a gut-wrenching sob, a mixture of profound relief and soul-crushing guilt. He buries his face in his hands.

HARRY PETERS (CONT'D)

Don't you dare start crying. Don't you dare feel relieved. This isn't over. This is the beginning. The police are coming. Jed Chesterfield is going to sue this garage into oblivion. Frederick life's work, everything he's built for forty years, is going up in smoke. And it's all because of you.

He walks over to the main shutter and starts pulling down the heavy chains, the rattling metal a sound of grim finality.

HARRY PETERS (CONT'D)

I'm locking up. The police know you're here. You will wait for them. I'm going to the pub. I'm going to drink until I can't feel my face, and then I'm going to have to call Frederick and tell him his most trusted employee just destroyed his business to impress a girl.

Just as he slams the final bolt home, a hesitant knock comes from the small side door.

CHARLENE (O.S.)

Trevor? Harry? Are you in there? It's Charlene.

Harry freezes, his back to the door. He closes his eyes, a fresh wave of fury washing over him. This is the source of it all. The catalyst. He turns, his face a thunderous mask.

He yanks the side door open.

CHARLENE BALDWIN stands there, silhouetted against the weak light of the streetlamp. She's dressed for their date—a pretty dress, her hair done, a touch of makeup. She looks lovely, and completely, jarringly out of place. She's holding her phone, a look of anxious worry on her face.

CHARLENE BALDWIN

Harry, thank God. Is Trevor here? He never showed up. I've been waiting for hours. I was so worried something had happened.

HARRY PETERS

(His voice a low, gravelly rumble)

Oh, something happened alright. You can stop worrying about that.

CHARLENE BALDWIN

(Flinching at his tone, peering past him into the gloom)

Is he okay? Where is he?

HARRY PETERS

(Taking a step out, blocking her view)

He's in there. Sitting in the dark. Contemplating the spectacular way he's managed to ruin all our lives in the space of a single afternoon. So no, he's not okay. And he's not going to be okay for a very long time.

CHARLENE BALDWIN

What are you talking about? What's going on? You're scaring me.

HARRY PETERS

(A short, bitter laugh escapes him)

I'm scaring you? That's rich. You want to be scared? Be scared of the man you've put your faith in. Be scared of the man who nearly killed someone tonight. All because he wanted to look like a big shot for his date. For you.

Charlene recoils, her face a mask of confusion and hurt.

CHARLENE BALDWIN

Killed someone? What? No. That's not possible. He was with me this afternoon, he was helping me at the shop… he was… wonderful.

HARRY PETERS

(His voice rising, the dam of his control finally breaking)

Wonderful? WONDERFUL?! Jed Chesterfield's Cortina is smashed to pieces and had to be rolled into a lay-by because your wonderful boyfriend told him he'd fixed brakes he never even touched! Because he didn't want his pretty date to think he was a failure!

The words hit Charlene like a physical blow. She stumbles back a step, her hand flying to her mouth.

CHARLENE BALDWIN

No… He wouldn't. There must be a mistake.

HARRY PETERS

There's no mistake! The only mistake was Reggie giving him a chance! The mistake was all of us thinking he'd changed! But all it took was one pretty girl smiling at him and he throws it all away! Forty years of this garage's good name, gone! For what? So you wouldn't think he was 'local riffraff'?

He's spitting the words now, the venom he feels for Shifty splashing onto her.

CHARLENE BALDWIN

(Her voice trembling)

That's not fair… I… I didn't ask him to do anything…

HARRY PETERS

You didn't have to! He did it for you! To be the man he thought you wanted! A man who can fix things, who gets things done, who doesn't fail! And in the process, he lied, he cheated, and he almost put an innocent man in a coffin. This is on him. But don't you stand there and pretend you're not the reason it happened!

He's right in her face now, his grief and rage a palpable force. Charlene looks past him, into the darkness of the garage, where she can just make out Shifty's slumped silhouette in the office chair.

CHARLENE BALDWIN

(Softly, to the figure in the dark)

Trevor? Is it true?

There is no answer from the darkness, which is answer enough.

Harry lets out a final, disgusted sigh. He's spent. The anger has burned itself out, leaving only bitter ashes.

HARRY PETERS

I can't even look at either of you. You deserve each other.

He turns to leave, his destination clear.

CHARLENE BALDWIN

Harry, wait—

He doesn't stop. He doesn't look at her. He shoulders past her, his movement rough and deliberate, a physical dismissal. He barges past her so forcefully she stumbles to the side.

HARRY PETERS

(Over his shoulder as he stalks off down the dark street towards the distant glow of the pub)

Tell him not to bother coming in tomorrow. Or ever again.

He disappears into the night, leaving Charlene alone in the cold entryway of the garage. She stands there for a long moment, her party dress a cruel joke in the face of the disaster. The reality of what Harry said sinks in, cold and sharp. She looks into the oppressive darkness of the garage.

CHARLENE BALDWIN

(Her voice barely a whisper, all the hope and affection gone, replaced by a terrible, hollow disappointment)

Trevor?