Left for Dead

by Paul J. Teague

  Charlotte’s phone dinged again. Lucia.

  They all hate me. They’re already in their cliques. I’ll never fit in here.

  She wanted to scream. She hated herself for forcing this upon the kids. But what choice did they have? Olli and Lucia were probably too self-absorbed to have sensed the tensions between her and Will. They’d made sure the counselling sessions were in the daytime, so the kids would never know about those. Maybe if they made it to their Golden Wedding, they might laugh about it then, when life had been safely tucked in behind them.

  Will was doing his best; he had done everything the counsellor advised. Now he was encouraging her to share old memories of their early years together as a way of cementing what they’d built together. Maybe it was time she got with the programme. But she felt so worn down all the time, she just wanted a break… from Will, the kids, from life. She needed some time, a little space - but life was a carousel which insisted on turning.

  ‘Doesn’t it feel good to be back?’ Will said as they drew out of the junction, back onto the sea front.

  It was a beautiful, clear day - a rarity - and they could see the Cumbrian hills in the distance, beyond the shimmering sea. Even though it was a weekday, pensioners and parents with toddlers were walking up and down the front. It would have been good, if it wasn’t for what had happened.

  ‘Remember the pier?’ Will asked. ‘That disco we went to as students. You could see the sea through the floorboards, talk about scary!’

  Charlotte laughed. Will had been dressed up in his Duran Duran gear that night. He’d even ventured a touch of makeup. It seemed so funny now, looking back at it.

  ‘I remember spending half an hour on my hair and when we stepped off the bus, the wind was wild - by the time we’d walked along the deck and got in, I looked like some wild beast from a horror movie!’

  They both laughed, Will taking his hand away from the gear stick and placing it on her leg.

  ‘It’s good to hear you laugh,’ he said, looking over at her. ‘Hey, this is where I failed my driving test for the first time, do you remember that?’

  They passed a slip lane in the road and Charlotte nodded.

  ‘Undue hesitation wasn’t it?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I was so relieved to have a moment’s pause, I just stopped in that lane and didn’t move. The driving instructor asked me if everything was alright. I’d gone into a daze; I was so relieved to be out of the traffic flow!’

  Charlotte laughed out loud at that.

  ‘It’s good to be back, isn’t it?’ Will said earnestly.

  She knew how much he wanted the marriage to work. She did too. Everything just seemed so difficult. ‘We certainly have a lot of good memories here.’

  ‘Oh no, look, Adventure Kingdom is all boarded up!’

  Charlotte looked away from the sea, towards what was left of the amusement park that they’d frequented every summer as students. Her phone dinged again. She ignored it. Live in the present moment, the CBT guy had said.

  ‘Oh no. We had so much fun in there,’ she answered, thinking back. ‘Do you remember your brother in that Crazy Mouse ride? I honestly thought he was going to jump out of it, he was so scared.’

  Will smiled, that big, broad beam that she fell for every time. Charlotte was a quick learner after Bruce, soon realising that guys like Will - skinny as a rake, with zero athleticism and completely useless with anything related to tools, cars or motorbikes - guys like that were usually a lot nicer. They had to be; they couldn’t trade on their bodies. She was still a sucker for that smile.

  ‘We’ll be okay, won’t we?’ Will asked out of the blue. ‘We won’t end up like all our college friends, divorced and bitter? I know it’s been difficult, but we’ll be okay here, I’m sure.’

  Charlotte gave a nod but couldn’t muster a verbal response.

  ‘I wonder if they’ll knock it all down and build an Aldi?’ Will commented.

  ‘It’s sad though,’ Charlotte said thoughtfully. ‘All these places we used to frequent as kids - the funfair, the pier, the arcades. They even used to come here with the Radio One Roadshow, don’t you remember? We got one of the worst DJs every year, never a breakfast presenter. I wonder what makes a place like this struggle?’

  ‘It’s far from dead yet,’ Will replied, keen to defend their decision to relocate there. ‘You saw the accounts on the guest house. I can’t believe you can still generate a decent income like that. Somebody must still be visiting this place!’

  Charlotte was looking from side to side now. They had reached the end of the promenade and were now entering the West End.

  ‘This bit still looks run down,’ she said, wondering if the three-storey buildings had once been hotels and accommodation for holiday-makers. Now they had been demoted to houses of multiple occupancy, and the West End had become the location of choice for the terminally unemployed.

  ‘Hey, we’ve got time. Why don’t we drive out to Heysham and take a look at the old holiday camp?’

  Charlotte tensed immediately, feeling her face reddening. Her phone dinged. She resisted looking once again. If it was Lucia giving her a running commentary of how much she hated her new school, she might scream.

  ‘Do we have to?’ she replied. ‘It was always a dump back then. Besides, they shut it down, didn’t they?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. Remember how the holiday-makers used to arrive on the Fun Bus on a Saturday afternoon, and the look of disappointment on their faces when they saw where they were staying for the next week? Some of the poor buggers were stuck there for a fortnight!’

  Charlotte remembered. She recalled everything about that place. Her one small consolation was that it was where she and Will had met.

  ‘Let’s go and take a look,’ Will insisted. ‘For old times’ sake. We haven’t been back there since we finished that summer season in ’84. We don’t have guests in tomorrow, so we can spare the time.’

  Reluctantly, Charlotte agreed. She’d known this would come up. But she’d resolved to take it in her stride, so what harm could it do? It was almost forty years ago. Where had the time gone? Besides, Bruce was long gone. Maybe not from her nightmares, perhaps not from her deepest fears. But wherever he was now, he was out of their lives. He couldn’t get to her now.

  Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp was approached via a winding country lane, bordered on each side by fields. There was no indication of being anywhere near a beach until static caravans began to appear at irregular intervals and a nuclear power station loomed up in the distance.

  ‘I forgot about the power station,’ Will said. ‘Can you imagine spending all that money on your summer holidays, only to share the beach with a power station? People must have been so disappointed.’

  They turned a corner, passed a static caravan site and directly in front of them was the Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp. Will drew up in front of it, now surrounded by protective fencing with Danger. Keep Out! signs liberally attached around the perimeter. In a small clearing to the side, three bulldozers lay in wait. The sign was still there, on a big wall which at one time had heralded the arrival of thousands of holiday-makers to the area. Sandy B-aches Holiday C-mp.

  ‘I’m tempted to steal one of the letters myself,’ Will said, looking at the sad gaps between the once-proud lettering. ‘Or maybe we could re-arrange them to make a rude word, like they used to do at the beginning of Fawlty Towers on the TV?’

  Charlotte’s phone dinged again. She was surprised she could even get a signal so far out from the resort. They hadn’t had mobile phones back in the eighties, so it wasn’t even an issue back then.

  ‘Let’s take a look around, shall we?’ Will asked, getting out of the car already.

  Charlotte could resist no longer; she took her phone out of standby and checked the notifications. It was Facebook. A friend request - that was unusual. And she didn’t recognise the name.

  ‘Are you coming?’ Will asked. ‘I want to lock up the car.’

  Charl
otte made a move, like she was on her way, but stopped to examine the friend request. It was from an Andrew Stranger, but there was no image. A Stranger - was this a joke or some weirdo guy chancing his luck?

  There was a message attached. She moved her thumb and opened it.

  I saw you online in the local paper. I have your necklace. I’ve had it for years. Want it back?

  Chapter Three

  1984 - Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp

  There were two new arrivals that day, both of them students. Among the staff at the Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp, there was very much an ‘us-and-them’ divide between the students and the other seasonal recruits. The students were usually there to pay off overdrafts, levelling up their cash to enable them to spend the next academic year in the bar, much as they had done the year before. Some of the students were dismissive of the other staff, thinking that their impending degrees made them somehow superior.

  The divide between the students and the regular workers was further exacerbated by the fact that the Easter starters all knew each other - and the system - extremely well by the time the students started to show their faces. However, for the young men and women who worked all summer, then having thrown the benefits staff off their scent, returned to their bedsits over winter, students were a romantic prize that was much sought after.

  The prospect of some ‘posh totty’ was worth the fight through the smouldering resentment of being uneducated. After all, the students got grants which enabled them to get better-paid jobs, comfortable accommodation, refectory meals and a roller coaster life of booze and parties. On benefits, there was no work and the accommodation tended to be worse. Either way, it was the government bank-rolling it all, but the students seemed to get the better deal.

  Mickey Lucas was showing round two new student recruits. Mickey had a higher status than the other non-student workers. Having returned to the camp over a period of several years - starting as a kitchen porter, then moving up to waiting on tables - he was now what passed as lower management at Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp. He presided over a team of waiters, waitresses and nippies - the title given to the female-only staff who cleared tables in the cafeteria.

  Mickey quite clearly had the hots for the new girl, whose name was as yet unknown. Charlotte was standing at her station, her tables already set, awaiting the arrival of her first diners. As a waitress she was allocated three tables of eight people. Sometimes they were couples, at other times families, occasionally solo holiday-makers. Each day, they were given a choice of three starters, three main courses and three sweets. There was nothing ambitious on offer; it was a couple of notches up from a school dinner.

  While Mickey quite clearly had his eyes on the young woman, Charlotte had clocked the guy already. He was rating extremely high as far as she was concerned. They were in the lull between getting the tables set up and their workstations ready and awaiting the first guests to dribble in. The guests had a window of up to two hours to grab their lunch, so it was always anybody’s guess when they would show their faces.

  ‘Hot stuff at three o'clock!’ Jenna whispered.

  ‘I see him,’ Charlotte smiled, ‘Hands off, he’s mine.’

  ‘You’re with Bruce already,’ Jenna reminded her. ‘Whereas me? I’m still floating.’

  ‘Maybe I won’t be with Bruce much longer…’ Charlotte began.

  ‘Oh yes? Is all not going well with the new love birds?’

  ‘I’ll tell you about it later,’ Charlotte replied. ‘They’re heading over here. Tits out, best behaviour, you know the drill!’

  ‘Hi Jenna, Charlotte…’ Mickey began, surveying their tables before making the introductions. ‘Jenna, you might just want to straighten some of your cutlery. It looks a bit slapdash from over here.’

  Charlotte watched as Jenna’s face reddened. Mickey had made an early power play, showing the new girl who was boss. It was important for Mickey to let new recruits know who ruled the roost.

  ‘This is Will and Sally,’ Mickey began. ‘They’re starting today. I’m handing them over to shadow you today and tomorrow, then I’ll assign them their tables once they’ve got the hang of everything.’

  Charlotte couldn’t have been happier. Will was just her sort: skinny, completely unmacho and with a ready, friendly smile. His arms were too long for the white jacket that he’d been allocated and his bow tie was slightly askew. Sally was blonde, with a soft complexion and gentle features.

  Charlotte had never encountered women as coarse and crude as the Easter intake at Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp. They talked openly about their sex lives and wore love bites on their necks as trophies of conquest. They called it chalet rash in the kitchens, but the currencies among the non-student staff were the love bites on your neck and the number of different people who’d given them to you.

  The students tended to avoid that game, though a few got caught up in it. But none could compete with Abi Smithson, a woman with startling grey eyes, reputed to be sexually voracious, whose sole aim was to work through every single male member of staff during the course of the summer. That was according to holiday camp folklore. She had a trail of love bites leading from her neck, down to her cleavage. Beyond that it was a matter for conjecture as to how far down they went. For Charlotte it felt more like cannibalism than a sign of affection and she’d told Bruce in no uncertain terms that he was not to bite her. That was the first time she’d seen what he could be like.

  Will and Sally exchanged pleasantries.

  ‘Charlie and Jenna are thick as thieves - they both attend the teacher training college in Lancaster,’ Mickey told them.

  ‘We’re from the university,’ Will said, ‘Paying off overdrafts!’

  ‘Are you a couple?’ Charlotte asked, perhaps a little obvious.

  ‘No, I’m here with my boyfriend,’ Sally chimed in. ‘He’s in the entertainment team, a Purple Coat. I didn’t know Will before today. It’s a big campus at the uni.’

  ‘A Purple Coat, eh?’ Jenna teased. Purple Coats trumped Mickey in the hierarchy, as prestigious as it came, even getting better accommodation than the regular staff. Confident and cocksure, they were the entertainment heart of Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp. Their role gave them access to everybody and they would regularly dine alongside the customers, not having to rough it in the staff canteen like the others.

  ‘Yes, he’s a singer and a comedian,’ Sally told them. ‘I’m here to spend the summer with him, rather than go home to my parents.’

  Mickey interrupted them. ‘Let me take you to the kitchens, then these two can show you the ropes. The diners will start to arrive soon.’

  He whisked them away, leaving Jenna and Charlotte with a few minutes to exchange notes.

  ‘I wish he’d stop calling me Charlie!’ Charlotte cursed, the moment they were out of earshot. ‘What gives people the right to think they can mangle your name without permission? It’s really rude!’

  ‘They seem nice enough,’ Jenna said, attempting to divert her. She’d heard the name rant many times before.

  ‘Yes,’ Charlotte agreed, checking out Will’s butt as he disappeared through the swing door. She still wasn’t quite sure why she’d got together with Bruce. He wasn’t really her type; Will was much more like it. She resolved to have another try at ditching Bruce later that evening. It wasn’t that she didn’t fancy Bruce. A bit of muscle and supreme confidence between the sheets had been quite a novelty, but she’d realised quickly that she needed much more than brawn and a limited repertoire of bedroom moves. Somehow she didn’t think he would quite hit the mark in the long term.

  ‘Sally’s lucky being with a Purple Coat,’ Charlotte continued. ‘That means she won’t be confined to the bad chalets like we are.’

  ‘Lucky cow…’ Jenna agreed, then looked over towards the entrance to the dining room. ‘Oh look, prunes lady is here!’

  ‘Ha, I wonder if she’s had a bowel movement yet,’ Charlotte laughed.

  It was a constant source of amusement f
or the waiting staff. Many of the pensioners would order prunes as their first course at breakfast or as their sweet at lunchtime or dinner. Jenna had an old lady assigned to her tables who constantly ate prunes. As far as Charlotte and Jenna were concerned, prunes were such an abomination as a food type that only somebody in dire need of relief from constipation would eat them. Even funnier to them was the strained look on the woman’s face.

  ‘She’ll come in one morning looking calm and relaxed and we’ll know she’s finally defeated the logjam!’ Jenna had laughed.

  Jenna switched on her smile and welcomed the old lady and her husband, seating them at the end of one of her tables. Charlotte was still awaiting her first guests, so looked over to the kitchen door to check on the progress of the new recruits. The swing doors to the kitchen had safety glass in them at eye level, to protect the waiting staff from being clouted by an opening door while they had their hands full of plates stacked with hot food.

  Bruce was watching her from his station in the kitchen, through the glass portal, awaiting dirty dishes to stack into the plastic trays which sent them through the industrial size dishwashing machine. Whenever she looked over he seemed to be watching, like a sentinel, ever alert. She’d need to have that conversation with him - and soon.

  Chapter Four

  Present Day - Morecambe

  For a moment, parked outside the derelict remains of the holiday camp, Charlotte thought she’d given the game away. She could feel the colour draining from her face. Surely Will would notice. And here, of all places. What a time for that Facebook message to arrive.

  ‘Charlotte, come on!’ Will cajoled. ‘Is that a message from Lucia? She’s been bitching about school all day; my messenger app is full of her moans.’

  ‘Well you can’t really blame her, can you? We take her out of the school she’s been in since the age of eleven and relocate her to a place she knows nothing about. Morecambe might have some happy memories for us, Will, but remember, it’s new to the kids.’