Left for Dead Page 3

  ‘Would anybody have given a damn about what we thought when we were kids? My mum and dad used to move us around all the time. They could never settle in one place. We give the kids too much say in things these days. When I was young, I had to like it or lump it. I can remember my dad smoking at the table at mealtimes and we’d all be coughing away. But his attitude would just be a Screw You! We’re too soft as parents. We’re all too soft these days…’

  Charlotte was thankful that Will was off on one of his favourite rants. The softening of attitudes over the generations - that one never grew old.

  It bought her a few more seconds to look at the message. It was completely anonymous: no image, no contact details, no other Facebook friends. It was obviously a spoof profile.

  This was something different from the cruel messages the kids at school would send. It was focused, meant just for her. And whoever had sent it knew about the necklace. How, though? She’d never spoken a word about that night. When she’d returned to check on Bruce the moment daylight had broken, he was gone. She’d panicked, fearing at the time that she’d killed him and he’d been washed away by the sea.

  But nobody reported Bruce missing, even though he didn’t turn up for work the next day. And all Mickey Lucas could tell her was that Bruce had slipped a note under the door of the admin offices, informing them that he had quit.

  ‘That’s really screwed up my rotas.’ Mickey had cursed. ‘He won’t get his wages either, not if he didn’t work out his notice.’

  Who knew about the necklace? She’d never worn jewellery since. Charlotte had managed to lose the one thing that was most precious to her. She’d unclasped it from her mother’s neck - aged eleven - because her mum was too weak to do it herself.

  ‘It’s yours Charlotte,’ she’d whispered, so drained by the treatment in the hospice that she could barely say the words. ‘You’ve always loved it and now it’s yours. I’ll always be with you my precious girl, always.’

  Those had been her last words to Charlotte. She’d worn the necklace every day since her mum had died. And she’d never forgiven herself for losing it that night on the beach.

  Will was getting impatient now.

  ‘Charlotte, will you please put that phone away and come on. I want to lock the doors.’

  He had the car remote poised to secure the vehicle. Charlotte slammed the door and the car cheeped as Will activated the locks. She slipped her phone into her jeans back pocket and walked up to Will.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re locking the doors,’ she remarked, ‘The place is all cordoned off, we can only get a view from a distance anyway.’

  ‘Screw that!’ Will said. ‘The great thing about being middle-aged is that you can get away with almost anything. It’s so remote out here that nobody will see us anyway. But if they do, we’ll just tell them that this is where we met, and we were having a last look around for old times’ sake.’

  He was already unlatching one of the wire safety panels from its clip. Before long, he’d removed the lower clip, tilted one of the panels to the side and was down on his knees, squeezing through the gap.

  ‘Aren’t we a bit old to be sneaking into building sites?’

  ‘You’re never too old to break into a building site, Charlotte!’ he smiled. ‘Besides, we’re not here to steal anything, we’re just here for a look around.’

  Charlotte remembered, of course she did. She remembered every inch of that place. She’d scoured the whole holiday camp after Bruce had disappeared, barely able to believe that she’d got away with it, looking for clues, searching for her necklace. She didn’t really know what clues she was looking for, but she did it anyway.

  As the days passed, there was no investigation, no police visit and no awkward questions. Everybody knew she and Bruce had split up by then, so he was none of her business. The only response she could get about Bruce’s disappearance was that he was a prick for leaving them in the lurch like that. He should have worked his notice, but because he hadn’t, he wouldn’t get his wages. Mickey liked to repeat that one, as a warning to the rest of them not to do the same thing.

  Reluctantly, Charlotte got down on her knees and pulled herself through the fence and into the grounds of Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp. She stood up and looked around. It was exactly as she remembered it, only run down, the paint flaking on the doors and windows, weeds growing along the paths and road, the once-manicured flower bed now completely overgrown.

  To the left was the old porter’s lodge, the place where she’d first got off the holiday bus and made her presence known, nervous about what working at a holiday camp might entail. To the right was the admin block, the place they used to go every Tuesday to collect their wages. The money would be handed over in small, translucent envelopes, the corners of the notes sticking out of the top so that they could be counted without breaking the seal. It all seemed so long ago; Charlotte could barely believe that she was old enough to remember receiving wages that way.

  Directly ahead of the porter’s lodge was the family pub - and the wishing well that gave it its olde worlde charm.

  ‘Look at those chalets!’ Will scoffed. ‘That was the biggest surprise of my life when I arrived. Those units look like inner-city housing. There’s no way you could describe that accommodation as a chalet.’

  ‘They were the pits, weren’t they?’ Charlotte replied, thinking back to the one room that they had shared towards the end of their summer stint. They’d even got a double bed, much to the envy of other couples on the site.

  ‘Do you remember that bed?’ she continued. ‘It was so funny; you’d see people moving them about on the landings as couples got together and broke up.’

  ‘I was once offered forty pounds for ours.’ Will smiled.

  ‘You never told me that. That was a week’s wages in those days. Who offered you that amount of money? I’m surprised you didn’t take it.’

  ‘No way!’ said Will. ‘There were only four or five double beds available to the catering staff, and they had to be shared out between over fifty of us. Most couples had to make do with pushing two single beds together. Once I got hold of one, there was no way I was letting it go. Besides, we were young and in love. I couldn’t believe my luck when you and I got together.’

  For one moment Charlotte was able to recapture a moment in time and feel that excitement as if she were actually there, back in 1984. It passed in an instant, but for a few seconds she felt the rush of new love and the relief that Bruce was out of her life - somehow - and that sense of having her whole life ahead of her.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an Alsatian barking ahead of them. They’d been spotted by a security patrol. They were barely through the fence and they’d been caught already.

  Chapter Five

  Present Day - Morecambe

  ‘George? That can’t be George.’ said Will.

  ‘It might be, he’d be an old man now. He’s coming up to us anyway, so we’ll soon find out.’

  The Alsatian appeared to have much more enthusiasm for the job than the security guard did. The man was old and slow. Clearly whoever now owned the site didn’t have high expectations of it being invaded by criminal masterminds or the like.

  ‘You realise you’re not supposed to be on these premises, don’t you?’ he said, as if assessing the level of threat. He relaxed immediately, evidently concluding that Will and Charlotte were of minimal danger.

  ‘George Newlove, that is you isn’t it?’ Will asked.

  Yes, I’m George Newlove,’ the guard replied, scrutinising Will’s face as if desperately trying to figure out how he knew his name.

  ‘I’m Will - Will Grayson. I was here in 1984…’

  ‘A lot of people passed through these gates over the years.’

  ‘Yes, but you remember. Me and Charlotte. We used to come into the porter’s lodge and drink tea with you. You would sometimes thrash me at pool in the family pub.’

  George looked at Charlotte with a slo
w realisation.

  ‘I remember you! You’re Charlotte-not-Charlie! And Will. My God, what are you doing here? It’s great to see you. And look at you, you’re still together after all these years. That’s so nice to see these days.’

  Will took George’s hand and shook it, clasping it firmly. He was genuinely choked up to see George again, a friendly ghost from the past, someone he’d barely thought about since leaving, but who’d become so much more important to him in the rear-view mirror that middle-age provided.

  ‘I remember you two, you were one of the nicer couples that passed through these gates. Most of them used to pass me by. Very few staff or visitors took the trouble to get to know me. It’s wonderful to see you. I guess I don’t have to ask you why you’re sneaking through the security fence? It’s pretty obvious really.’

  ‘Hello George,’ Charlotte smiled, giving him a hug.

  ‘I’m seventy in June,’ he said. ‘Can you believe I’m still here?’

  ‘Wow, that’s amazing!’ Will replied. ‘Have you worked here all this time?’

  The Alsatian seemed to take its lead from George as Charlotte stroked him. It had made its own threat level assessment and had concluded that it was happy to be fussed by her.

  ‘No, not continuously,’ George responded. ‘I retired at sixty, in the year this place closed. It’s been boarded up for years, but they finally managed to sell the land. My Una died four years ago, and I thought I’d be on the scrap heap then. But when I saw this job advertised, I thought I’d take it. Nobody ever comes this way, so it’s safe enough for a doddery old fool like me. Until the expensive building supplies arrive that is. I suspect they’ll ask me to move on when something worth stealing arrives.’

  ‘I’m so sorry to hear about your wife,’ Charlotte said, fussing the Alsatian which had now metamorphosed into the softest creature in the canine kingdom.

  ‘Yes, we met here, did you know that? She came on holiday here with her mum and dad in 1969. I was twenty years old and new to the porter’s job, she was just eighteen…’

  ‘That’s the same age as we were, pretty well,’ Will commented. ‘This place must be responsible for hundreds of marriages!’

  ‘Well, it’s funny you should say that,’ George continued. ‘The strange thing about a place like this is that it either drew people together or it split them apart. For me and Una, it was true love. It looks like it was the same for you too?’

  Will and Charlotte looked at each other. Charlotte returned to patting the dog a little sooner than she should, unsure how much she wanted to dwell on their own relationship at that moment in time.

  ‘Anyway, it’s good to see you. You want a tour?’ George asked.

  ‘Can we?’ Will asked. ‘I’m sorry about sneaking through the fence, but we couldn’t resist it.’

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ George smiled, ‘But I’d appreciate it if you could set that security panel back right - I’ll kill myself if I have to bend down that far!’

  Charlotte burst out laughing. ‘I know the feeling, I almost did myself a mischief when I crawled through that gap.’

  ‘She likes you,’ George said, as the dog’s tail wagged furiously, ecstatic at the attention it was receiving.

  ‘She’s called Una,’ George admitted sheepishly. ‘I spend most of my day talking to my Una, so it seemed the best thing to do. At least it doesn’t confuse the dog.’

  ‘No harm in that,’ Will reassured him, ‘You must miss her terribly after all those years … I know I would.’

  ‘There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think of her,’ George said, his eyes reddening. ‘And it helps to be wandering around here all day, in a place that’s full of happy memories for me. It was one of the saddest days of my life when they closed it down. Everybody’s hopping on EasyJet and holidaying abroad now. I guess it was bound to happen.’

  George led the way towards the narrow road that ran through the centre of the old camp. He was slow in walking, but Will didn’t hurry him.

  ‘What sort of hours do they keep you here, George?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s only part-time; I’m not even sure I could manage it full-time now. I’m not here every day. Basically, I turn up for twenty hours a week, at random times, and it just gives the appearance that we have security on site. Nothing ever happens here…’

  George stopped and thought a moment.

  ‘What?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘I was going to say that nothing ever happens here, but that’s not entirely true.’

  ‘Go on,’ Will urged, sensing a story.

  ‘Well, I’ve been here for three months now, ever since the land was sold and the fencing went up. They start building next month. The planning permission just got passed last week.’

  ‘What are they building here?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘Where are they digging?’ Will said at exactly the same time.

  ‘It’s going to be a retirement village. How ironic is that for me? I worked here all my life and there’s no chance I’ll be able to afford one of these places once they’re built.’

  ‘Where are they digging?’ Will asked again.

  ‘Well, those diggers that you see, they’ll be creating a car park area for the contractors first of all, over there, well away from the main buildings and the dust.’

  ‘By the tower?’ Will asked.

  The tower was the most distinctive feature of the holiday camp, apart from the main entertainment complex which had been built in the shape and form of an ocean liner. It was another irony about that place - creating a bricks and mortar image of the type of seaborne holiday that would eventually lure the holiday camp’s clientele away from the charms of a UK-based vacation.

  Circular in shape and built entirely of stone, a single storey in height, with distinctive battlements, the tower was a complete anomaly, bearing in mind the entertainments complex that had been built around it. Equally unusual was the fact that nobody seemed to know its history. Everybody asked, but nobody knew. It was difficult to date the structure. It had seemed older to Will as a teenager, but looking at it through adult eyes, he thought it was probably late-Victorian, perhaps even early twentieth century.

  ‘Yes, just around the tower,’ George confirmed. ‘They’re not taking it down though; they’re going to renovate it and make a feature of it. I reckon it puts at least twenty thousand pounds on the price of each of those retirement homes. They’re going to rename this place Sandside Tower - how expensive-sounding is that?’

  Will laughed, thinking George was probably right about that. ‘Can we take a closer look at the tower?’

  ‘Do we have to?’ Charlotte asked. Una looked up at her, expecting further fussing.

  ‘Why not?’ said Will. ‘Everything else is boarded up now, so we can’t get a proper look inside. It’s our last chance to take a tour. This place will be all locked up when they start spending money on it.’

  He took Charlotte’s hand, encouraging her towards the structure on the grassy bank which, along with a wall, separated the camp from the beach. But she trembled and pulled her hand away, as a look of panic passed across her face.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. I need to head back to the car. I’m sorry George…’

  Charlotte ran off back along the road, leaving the two men looking at each other, wondering what had just happened.

  Chapter Six

  1984 - Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp

  Jenna and Charlotte were in the thick of a lunch shift by the time Will and Sally had completed their tour of the dining room. Mickey deposited the new recruits at their workstation.

  ‘I’d like you to shadow Jenna and Charlotte until teatime tomorrow, then I’ll allocate you your own tables when the new guests arrive on Saturday. How does that sound?’

  Will and Sally nodded, and Mickey was away, fussing around elsewhere in the dining room.

  ‘One moment,’ Charlotte said to Will, ‘I’ll just deliver these lamb cutlets and I’ll be with you.’


  Will watched as she walked briskly to the serving area, loaded two plates up with the aforementioned food, and dropped it off at her table.

  ‘They’re all on main courses now. That gives us five minutes for a chat. Have you ever served on tables before?’

  ‘No,’ Will replied, ‘Just a bit of bar work in the town. I’ve dropped off a couple of ploughman’s lunches in my time, but that’s about the length of it.’

  ‘Well, don’t worry, you don’t need any experience to survive in this place. It’s pretty basic stuff; not a lot can go wrong. Just make sure you get the orders right and don’t spill it all in their lap. Apart from that, you’re good to go!’

  Jenna and Sally were already serving together. It seemed to Will that Sally had done it before.

  ‘So, you’re at the university?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘Yes, studying English Literature. God knows why, my real interest is in photography. How about you?’

  ‘I’m at the teacher training college. I couldn’t quite make it to university. Besides, I’ve always wanted to teach. I’m doing English as my second subject.’

  They hit it off straight away, so much so that they were interrupted by one of the guests in mid-flow.

  ‘Excuse me!’ she announced. ‘As if it weren’t disappointing enough that we’re stuck in this godforsaken place all week, it would be nice if we could get fed while we’re here. I can’t think of a worse place to starve in!’

  Charlotte’s face reddened; this wasn’t a good start to her mentoring duties.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she apologised, ‘I’ll come and take your order now.’

  ‘No worries, I’ll do it,’ said Will, smiling at the lady. She relaxed immediately, flattered to have such a nice young man attending to her. Will escorted her back to her table and took the family’s order. Within two minutes he had them eating out of his hand and laughing their heads off.