Where Memories Are Made

by Lynda Page

  Just over two weeks later Ginger heaved a fed-up sigh and moaned to Jackie, ‘Just think, I used to get so excited about dressing up and coming to this place, wondering if this would be my lucky night and I’d meet Mr Wonderful. I didn’t think I’d hear myself say this but if I never came here again, it would be too soon for me. If I hear Hats singing “I’m a Believer” one more time, I think I’ll scream.’

  Ginger was voicing exactly what Jackie was thinking. She felt she knew the Upbeats’ repertoire better than they did, and the DJ’s too.

  The two young women, doing their best to act just like the rest of the Groovy’s revellers, had kept their eyes peeled for any suspicious activity going on from the moment it opened until it closed. Harold Rose had done his bit in the Paradise foyer and intermittently had a nose around the other recreation rooms. None of them had witnessed anything going on between a member of Jolly’s staff and the campers, or even camper and camper, that looked like money being exchanged for drugs.

  Ginger was griping again. ‘Look, Jackie, we’ve kept a watch on all the bar staff over the last two weeks or so and seen none of them acting at all strangely, and we’ve approached at least a dozen people we think have taken drugs, pretending we’re after buying some for ourselves, and apart from the couple it was obvious didn’t know what the hell we were talking about, from the rest we’ve had the same answer … “from the shop”. Did they think we’re so bloody daft we’d believe you can just go into a shop and buy illegal drugs!

  ‘But this same stupid answer has got me to wondering if we’ve been sussed out by the dealer, and he or she has given those that buy from them our descriptions and threatened them they’re not to blab to us or else they’ll live to regret it. If that’s the case, I don’t know how we’re ever going to catch them red-handed as they’re not going to do any deals while they know we’re hanging around nearby, so all we’re doing here is wasting our time.’

  Jackie heaved a sigh. ‘You could be right, Ginger, but unless you’ve got any other bright idea how we can catch the dealer …?’ Her friend gave a shrug by way of telling Jackie she hadn’t. ‘Well then, we have no choice but to stick with what we’re doing because at least it’s better than doing nothing. No matter how clever this person is, or how well they believe they’ve covered their tracks, everyone makes mistakes. They will sometime and we’ll be there to nab them when they do.’ She then looked at her friend meaningfully. ‘Look, when I roped you in, to be honest I never thought we’d still be here over two weeks later and no further forward than when we first started. I’ll understand if you don’t want to do this any more.’

  Ginger sighed. ‘Well, if I’m being honest, I don’t, but you’re my friend and I will see this through with you until the bitter end. At least we have each other, unlike poor Harold who’s patrolling upstairs on his own.’

  Jackie chuckled. ‘He did tell me the other day that he was worried some people who have seen him there night after night might think it’s him that’s up to no good in some way and report him to us. Fancy another drink?’

  ‘Oh, go on then.’

  They began to make their way towards the bar when suddenly Jackie pulled Ginger to a halt as her attention was caught by a barman leaning over the bar towards a female customer. She watched them exchange a few words, then the woman opened her handbag to take something out while he took a look around, it appeared to Jackie, to see if anyone was watching him before he put his hand in his pocket. Jackie held her breath, her heart thumping in anticipation. Just what was he going to bring out? Had they at long last caught the dealer red-handed? If this was the case then just who he was came as a big shock to her. Rodney Miller was a very personable young man, the last one she would have thought would be involved in anything like this. Then her heart-rate returned to normal and her anticipation faded when she saw what came out of Rodney’s pocket. It was a lighter, and what the girl had taken out of her handbag was a packet of cigarettes.

  Ginger meanwhile had noticed her distraction and was demanding, ‘You’ve seen something? What is it? Have you just seen a deal taking place? Have we caught the bastard at last?’

  Jackie shook her head and said in disappointment, ‘No. I thought Rodney was our man for a minute as he was acting suspiciously with that female the other side of the bar, but it turns out she was asking him for a light for her cigarette. When I thought he was checking around to make sure he wasn’t being watched, he must have been checking the counter at the back for a pack of matches first. Seeing none, he offered her his lighter instead.’

  Ginger scoffed, ‘You actually suspected Rodney Miller! He’s that naive he wouldn’t know the difference between LSD and a saccharin tablet.’

  Jackie said dryly, ‘Just like us then.’

  Ginger chuckled, ‘Yeah, just like us. Shall we get that drink?’

  It was the Upbeats’ night off tonight and the DJ was playing his last up tempo record of the night, The Turtles’ ‘Happy Together’. The dance floor was jammed with gyrating dancers giving it their all before the tempo slowed down for the last hour with the ‘smooches’, so that meant it was just before eleven. Every Wednesday on the band’s day off, while the other members were sleeping off their previous night’s revelry, Vic would take himself off in the van to visit his parents and friends in his home town of Leeds, but would be back no later than seven in order to take Jackie out for the evening.

  Since her quest to uncover the drug dealer had begun, feeling that the best place to do that was Groovy’s, Vic would still turn up at seven after his trip to Leeds then aid Jackie and Ginger in their search, which she thought was very good of him considering he spent every other night of the week in Groovy’s as it was. As Vic hadn’t arrived to meet her yet she assumed he had stayed later in Leeds and that she wasn’t going to see him tonight. It looked as if she was out of luck there as well. So, completely taking Ginger by surprise, she replied, ‘No, let’s not. Let’s have an early night instead. I just want to go back to the chalet and get to bed. We’ll check in with Mr Rose on the way out and update him that once again we’ve drawn a blank, as I suspect he has too. I expect he’ll be glad to call it a night too and get himself off home. By now he must be getting as fed up with our vigilance as we are.’

  Ginger was more than happy to go along with that but, to their surprise, although Harold had had no more luck than they had, he didn’t appear to want to go home but was quite happy to stay on until the place shut down for the night.

  Leaving him to it, the two women made their way out of the Paradise building. Immediately the tantalising smell of fish and chips assailed their nostrils. Unable to resist, they walked across to the parade of shops to join the queue of other holidaymakers at the fish and chip kiosk, wanting a snack after their night of entertainment before they went to bed. There were at least ten people in front of them and as they slowly moved up the queue the person in front of them arrested Jackie’s attention. She thought it was odd that on such a warm night the man was wearing a heavy winter overcoat, with a cap pulled well down over his head. He was hunching himself over like he was shielding himself from the cold. Beneath his cap grey hair sprouted, telling Jackie he was elderly. Old people suffered lots of illnesses and obviously this old gent had something that affected his ability to keep warm. Presently it was the man’s turn to be served. Armed with his parcels of food he turned to go. As he did so Jackie caught a glimpse of the lower part of his face and she watched thoughtfully as he shuffled off in the direction of the holidaymakers’ chalets.

  The man had caught Ginger’s attention too. She exclaimed in a hushed whisper, ‘Did you see the conk on that old man? It looks like he’s had a fight with a sledgehammer!’

  ‘I did see, and I’ve seen that nose before but I just can’t remember where.’

  Ginger said matter-of-factly, ‘Well, you must have seen him while going round the camp.’

  Jackie shook her head. ‘In the camp, yes, but not going around it and not recently either,
which doesn’t make sense as the longest campers come here for is a fortnight, isn’t it? And it’s really strange but I get a feeling there are chips and a bed associated with it … and another man too.’ Ginger eyed her strangely but before she could make any comment they both realised they were at the front of the queue and, all thoughts of the man with the misshapen nose forgotten, they ordered two bags of chips with plenty of salt and vinegar and hungrily tucked into them as they made their way back to their chalet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The next day the furious activity of changeover day was for once going relatively smoothly. Only a small number of people had caused the reception staff and their drafted-in helpers, including Jackie, time-consuming problems, such as having mislaid their chalet keys or personal belongings, so that the staff had to ferret through the Lost Property box to see if they had been handed in. Sometimes even family members were mislaid and Stripeys had to go and hunt them down before their coaches left without them. It usually turned out they were having one last go in the arcades or else buying last-minute souvenirs.

  It was after two in the afternoon and Jackie had long since lost count of the number of campers she had personally checked in. She was looking after a young family when a man being dealt with by the receptionist working next to her caught her attention. He looked the rough and ready sort, with ginger hair and a matching droopy Mexican moustache. There was nothing about him that she found attractive in a man or would explain why her interest had been piqued by him. But although he had just arrived to start his holiday so she wouldn’t have encountered him before, Jackie knew she had – and here in the camp. And somehow he was connected to the man with the disfigured nose and, most peculiar of all, a bed and something to do with chips … Not being able to fathom how these things were connected was beginning to madden her. Her sixth sense, though, was screaming at her that it was important she did.

  The man having been dealt with, Jackie momentarily forgot the campers she was dealing with and thoughtfully watched the redhead as he turned to leave and disappeared in the crowd awaiting their turn. Then, for no reason other than that she felt compelled to, Jackie quickly excused herself for a moment and pulled the receptionist who had dealt with the man aside before she tackled the next in line.

  ‘Jill, that man you just checked in … did he mention if he’d been here before?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Why?’

  ‘Oh, er … I just thought I knew him, that’s all.’ Jackie made to go back to her station when, having no idea why it was important, she asked, ‘What number chalet is he in?’

  ‘Eh! Oh, come on, Jackie, I can’t recall that after the hundreds of campers I’ve dealt with today.’

  ‘Nor could I, but just do me a favour and check his name on the booking confirmation he handed you against the alphabetical sheets in the office. It won’t take you a second.’

  ‘As if I haven’t enough to do! Okay, being’s it’s you.’ Jill stepped back to her station, did what Jackie requested, then came back and told her, ‘Eight two four. His name is Samuel Green and he’s here with his father, Albert Green. Now are you going to explain to me what this is all about?’

  Jackie shrugged and flummoxed her by saying, ‘I wish I could, but I’ve no idea.’

  That evening she arrived back at the chalet to drop off her work bag. She would meet up with Ginger for their evening meal then it was back to the chalet to ready themselves for their vigil at Groovy’s.

  She heard Ginger’s shrieks coming from inside the chalet while she was a hundred yards away. Thinking her friend was being murdered, Jackie dashed the rest of the way. Holding her handbag aloft like a weapon, she barged inside. She then stopped short, confused not to see what she was expecting. Ginger was alone in the room, standing on her bed, frenziedly flailing her arms and screaming hysterically.

  Jackie shouted, ‘Ginger, for goodness’ sake, what’s got into you?’

  The screaming stopped abruptly as her friend spun round to face her, looking hugely relieved. Wildly she retorted, ‘Oh, I’ve never been so glad to see you in all my life. It’s huge, Jackie, enormous. It’s … it’s got great big teeth! You won’t let it get me, will you? You’ll get rid of it? Please, Jackie, please. I saw it run under your bed when I came in and I’ve not seen it come out again, so it’s still there.’

  Jackie’s panic-stricken eyes darted over to the bed. Her imagination ran riot. Just what monstrous creature was crouching under there waiting its moment to pounce and make a meal of them both? A lion or tiger that had escaped from a zoo? There was a rumour going around that a black panther had escaped from somewhere down south, and had been roaming wild for weeks avoiding its would-be captors. Had it made its way up to Lincolnshire and into their chalet? She stuttered, ‘You … you stay there, Ginger. Don’t move a muscle. Don’t do anything to alarm the … the … beast while I go and get …’

  Ginger frantically cried out, ‘Don’t you dare leave me with it! Don’t you dare, Jackie.’

  Afraid that the noise they were making would spur the animal into action, she urgently hissed back, ‘You expect me to save us from it! I’m not Tarzan, Ginger, strong enough to break its jaws just as it’s about to bite my head off. And keep your voice down in case you upset the thing.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Sorry, Jackie. But we’ll miss our dinner if you don’t do something quick to get rid of it. Just make it come out then flatten it with a good wallop from your handbag. That should do the trick.’

  Jackie gawped at her. Apart from the fact that she couldn’t believe that Ginger’s priority in this dire situation was filling her stomach, did she really think a bash over the head with her handbag was going to be enough to stop a vicious animal from making a meal of them both? Then it suddenly struck her that the space underneath her bed was very narrow. Considering what she had stored under there the creature couldn’t be bigger than a small puppy, let alone anything larger. She demanded, ‘Ginger, just what did you see running under my bed?’

  ‘A mouse. It was huge, Jackie, honest!’

  She exclaimed, ‘A mouse? A bloody mouse! God, the way you’ve been carrying on, I thought it was a Yeti at least.’

  ‘I’m terrified of mice, Jackie. I hate them, I really do. I’d sooner be faced with a hungry lion than a mouse. Get it out of here, please,’ begged Ginger.

  Jackie sighed heavily. She was no lover of mice either but it was obvious Ginger wasn’t going to be any help in evicting it so it was going to have to be her. Putting down her handbag, she looked around for a makeshift weapon, spotted a pile of magazines and grabbed one of them, rolling it up. The chalet door was still open and what Jackie was hoping was that if she could frighten the mouse into coming out from its hiding place it would make a dash for freedom, then she would shut the door quickly after it and that would be the end of their lodger.

  Not at all looking forward to her task, she went over to her bed and got down on her hands and knees to look tentatively into the dim recess. Beneath the top of the bed was her empty suitcase, a layer of fine dust building up on its lid. She gave it a thump on the side with the rolled-up magazine but nothing stirred so she then gingerly pulled it out from under the bed to look into the space behind. Still no sign of a lurking rodent. She then cautiously gave her pile of dirty laundry a bash with the magazine in case the mouse was hiding amongst it. But still nothing.

  ‘Can you see it yet?’ Ginger wailed.

  Jackie snapped back, ‘You’d have heard me scream louder than you if I had.’

  Inching herself further down on the floor, she used the rolled magazine to scatter her shoes in case the mouse was hiding in one of them, then knocked over a pile of paperbacks and poked the end of the magazine at her vanity case in case it was hiding behind it. Still no sign of a mouse. All that remained now, she saw to her shame, was a collection of debris: a couple of empty wine and cider bottles, empty sweet and crisp packets, and scrunched-up newspaper chip wrapping that had somehow found its way under the
bed during the time she had lived here.

  With one hefty sweep of the rolled-up magazine Jackie swept all the rubbish out from under the bed, hoping the mouse would be with it. The empty bottles rolled across the floor and under Ginger’s bed, the rest of the rubbish flying out over the floor. Scrambling up, holding the magazine aloft ready to strike the offending creature, she studied the debris which was now scattered around the open door. There appeared to be no mouse amongst it. It must have made its way under Ginger’s bed without either of them seeing it, so this meant Jackie now had to repeat the whole process. Then she spotted it: the side of its grey furry body protruding from under an empty Lux soap wrapper. She leaned down and gave the furry object a little poke with the end of the rolled-up magazine. It didn’t move. So she poked it again. It still didn’t move. Was it dead? She took a closer look. Then a closer one still. Then, giving out an annoyed tut, she picked up the furry object between two fingers, turned and held it out towards Ginger, saying, ‘I found your mouse. Only it’s not a mouse …’

  Before she could say another word, Ginger screeched, ‘It’s a rat! Oh, God, it’s a rat. Get it out, Jackie, quick before it …’

  She cut in, ‘It’s not a rat either, Ginger. It’s a ball of fluff. You caused all this commotion over a ball of fluff!’

  Ginger immediately ceased her frenzied display, her face filled with shame. She mouthed, ‘Oh.’ Then justified herself with, ‘Well … it looked like a mouse to me.’ She clambered down off the bed, shame-faced, saying, ‘I’m starving. Are we going to go and have our tea?’

  Jackie couldn’t help but say, ‘Don’t you want to give your mouse a decent burial first?’

  Ginger snorted, ‘Very funny. You coming or not?’

  ‘As soon as we’ve cleared up this rubbish or we are risking a real invasion of vermin. The least you can do is help. While we’re at it, we’d best check under your bed too.’

  Ginger knew by Jackie’s tone that she wasn’t going to be allowed to go for her meal until she had. While she cleared out the rubbish from under her own bed, Jackie found an empty brown carrier bag and started to put things into it. She came to the scrunched-up sheet of greasy newspaper chip wrapper which she picked up with two fingers, and was just about to add that to the bag when memories began to flash through her mind of the man with the misshapen nose and the other one who had caught her attention today, both lying on a bed. Then those disappeared, to be replaced with one of herself and Ginger eating chips. This piece of dirty newspaper had triggered these memory flashes. Could it possibly hold the key to her putting all these pieces of puzzle together and remembering where she had first seen the man with the disfigured nose?