Where Memories Are Made (27 page)

To her shock it wasn't a body she encountered but two very much alive men, one middle-aged and the other maybe in his early thirties. They were lounging on the two single beds, reading newspapers. Despite its being broad daylight outside, the curtains were tightly drawn and the light was on. The room stank of stale body odour, cigarette smoke, beer and food. In one corner was a stack of old newspapers, empty beer bottles, fish and chip and hamburger wrappers. At the end of a bed was a large case with a jumble of clothes inside and a couple of wigs lying on top. In the gap between the beds was the small chest of drawers on top of which lay a pack of cards. These men couldn't have left their chalet since they'd arrived.

At Jackie's unexpected entry both men sat staring at her in shock.

It was the older one who was the first to gather his wits. Sitting bolt upright he demanded, ‘Who the hell are you, barging in here like this? Get out!'

Obviously she had been given the wrong chalet number by the confused woman. But what caught Jackie's attention was the nose of the man who had rudely addressed her. It was badly misshapen, obviously having been broken not once but several times and never re-set properly. Unable to take her eyes off it, Jackie blurted out, ‘I'm so sorry, really I am. I was told a man had collapsed in this chalet. I must have been given the wrong number.'

‘Yes, you must. Now get out!'

Apologising profusely, she backed out, shutting the door behind her.

Panting heavily, Harold reached her then. She told him, ‘The lady gave me the wrong number. I've just barged in on two men who weren't at all happy about my intrusion.' Then something struck her and she added, ‘I wonder what they would need wigs for?'

Harold eyed her in confusion. ‘Wigs! What wigs?'

The urgent need to get to the sick man and see what, if anything, they could do for him until proper help arrived occurred to Jackie then. ‘Oh, it doesn't matter.' She frowned in thought. ‘Now, what were the other numbers she mentioned? Oh, yes, three two one. No, she said that was the number of the chalet they stayed in last year …' Then she realised it must be the other number the woman had mentioned: 452. She told Harold, adding, ‘Let's hope it's that one or I haven't a clue where the man is.'

Jackie raced off, with Harold trailing in her wake. Arriving at chalet 452, conscious of her last reception Jackie first knocked on the door and, receiving no reply, cautiously turned the door knob and went inside. A middle-aged man lay crumpled on the floor. Dashing over, she knelt down beside him. His skin was the colour of parchment, his lips blue. She looked up as Harold arrived.

‘I think he's dead!'

Without a word Harold pushed her out of the way, heedless of the fact that he had been a bit too rough and she tumbled sideways. Harold meanwhile picked up the man's limp wrist and felt for a pulse.

‘He's alive … barely, but still alive.'

He then turned the man over so he was lying on his back and placed both hands over his heart. Harold began to pump up and down, counting as he did so, taking a rest after so many compressions, ready to begin again. He then squeezed open the man's mouth, placed his own over it and blew into it several times. Then went back to pumping the man's chest. Harold was still continuing with this procedure when the ambulance men arrived twenty minutes later. Jackie anxiously watched, willing the unconscious man to show signs of life.

A while later, after shutting the doors of the ambulance, a crewman said to Harold, ‘Mrs Blenkinsop has asked me to thank you for what you tried to do for her husband and she'll thank you herself when she's feeling better but she's too upset to at the moment. I am sure you can appreciate that.'

Looking down at the ground, Harold was nervously shuffling his feet. ‘But I failed, didn't I? So she's nothing to thank me for, has she?'

The man patted his arm. ‘You tried your best to save her husband's life, Mr Rose, kept going when others would have stopped long before. In my book that deserves a pat on the back. After all, we can't win them all, can we.'

A steady crowd of campers had gathered around the chalet when the ambulance had first arrived and they all watched solemnly as it drove away. Desperate to get himself out of the glare of public attention, believing he knew what was being said by others about him, Harold began to scuttle off back to the office, Jackie trotting after him. The only way to go was via the crowd. As Harold passed through they started clapping and patting him on the back by way of showing their appreciation. Jackie could see that the attention he was receiving was at first making Harold very uncomfortable. Then she noticed a remarkable change come over him. His drooping shoulders began to straighten, his bent head to rise, his scurrying walk to become more of a confident stride.

She caught his arm and asked, ‘Mr Rose, are you all right?'

He looked her straight in the eye for the first time since she had known him. ‘Yes, Miss Sims, I think I am. It's hard for me to explain but it's like a fog has cleared and I can register things clearly now. You see, I've always felt that if I make a single mistake in front of anyone they'll see me as a blithering idiot and reject me as not being worthy of their attention, so I've purposely avoided mixing with people to prevent that from happening. I realise, though, that it isn't a question of success or failure. Just now, when I saw that poor man lying there, for once I didn't think about my own worries for a second, I just got on with what I needed to do. You're right, Jackie. I have to believe in myself more, and the rest will follow.'

She heaved a deep sigh of relief. ‘Yes, that's exactly what you need to do, Mr Rose. It won't happen overnight and, like you said, you may never become the life and soul of the party, but at least you won't be cowering in the corner any longer and should begin to make some friends for yourself. Like everyone else, sometimes you'll be faced with doing things that fill you with dread, but each time you face your fears, it will become easier for you.'

He looked at her searchingly. ‘You're very wise for such a young woman. I owe you a huge debt of gratitude, because if you hadn't taken the trouble to try and help me change myself then I would have ended up an old man, dying alone, with no one to attend my funeral. Not now, though. I'm determined that won't happen.'

‘You don't know how happy I am to hear it.'

He then looked at her shamefaced. ‘There is something I need to tell you, though. You see, I bottled out of facing the funfair manager. I took one look at him and did an about turn.'

Jackie chuckled. ‘I did exactly the same thing the first time I came across him. Mr Davis does look rather frightening, but in his case looks are deceiving. He's really a pussy cat, but believe me he can turn into a raging tiger if he finds any of his staff are making a fool of him behind his back. I wouldn't like to be in that thief's shoes, I can tell you, when Mr Davis finds out what he's been up to. At the time you suggested going to see him yourself, I did think you were being a bit over-ambitious. Would you like me to come with you now and we'll tell Mr Davis together?'

‘Yes, please.' Harold then added optimistically, ‘And hopefully very soon you won't need to babysit me like you have been doing.'

If he kept up this attitude, she felt she certainly would not.

A while later, back at the office, Harold informed Jackie that the hospital had telephoned to let him know that Mrs Blenkinsop wanted her husband to be buried back at home and arrangements were being made to organise that. In turn, Harold had stressed that Jolly's would do anything they could to help Mrs Blenkinsop through her difficult time.

It was just gone half-past five that evening and Jackie was finishing making alterations to the accommodation log book when Al called across to her, ‘All right with you if I put the switchboard on night service, Jackie?'

Thinking it was only about four o'clock and wondering why he would be suggesting getting ready to go home already, she automatically looked up at the large clock on the wall above his desk and exclaimed, ‘Good gracious, is it that time already? Yes, of course, Al, or you'll risk missing the bus.' She needed to get a move on herself and finish for the night as she had a date with Vic and wanted time in advance to make herself look nice.

As he tidied his desk Al said to her, ‘I can't believe the change in Mr Rose. He even agreed to take that tricky phone call with the coach-hire company. Your plan to help him get out of his shell seems to be working.'

Jackie smiled. ‘Yes, I'm pleased to say it is. I never thought I'd hear myself say this but, as much as I'm looking forward to Mrs Jolly and Mrs Buckland coming back and us becoming The Three Musketeers again, I hope they don't until Mr Rose has built up his confidence even more.' She suddenly realised what Drina and Rhonnie's return would mean for Al and hurriedly added, ‘Oh, not that I'm wanting to see the back of you, Al, not at all. You've settled in well here and are doing a great job. I couldn't have managed without you.'

He was secretly hoping that the two women didn't come back just yet either as he hadn't quite finished what he needed to accomplish. Another two or three weeks should do it, the way he was progressing, then they could return whenever they wanted. ‘I know what you mean, it's all right,' he laughed. ‘I'll be sad when my time here ends – I do enjoy working with you, Jackie – but I'm only a temp after all, and I've always been aware I'd be moving on at some time. Anyway, I'm off now. I'll see you in the morning.'

‘Have a good night, Al.'

He had just closed the door at the top of the stairs when Harold appeared out of the boss's office. He was looking very pleased with himself.

He said to Jackie, ‘Well, I think that went well. I was quite firm and told the manager of the coach company that we went to a great deal of trouble to sort out the slots to avoid congestion, and it's up to them to inform their passengers that the departure time they gave out was wrong and to give them the correct one. He got very stroppy, and I will be honest and tell you that my nerves began to get the better of me at one stage, but like you advised I excused myself, took several deep breaths, then went back to the phone and stood my ground with him.'

‘This really is a red letter day for you, isn't it, Mr Rose? You carry on like this and soon you won't be able to recognise yourself. Is it all right with you if I finish up now? There's nothing that can't wait until tomorrow. I have a date tonight and don't want to keep him waiting.'

He wondered why Jackie was asking his permission when before she had always just informed him she was going, which had only been on the very rare occasion he had still been in the office after her. Then it struck him that this was her way of reminding him he was in fact the boss and she was showing respect for his position.

Maybe one night it would be him telling her he was rushing off for a date, he thought wistfully. This young girl before him had made him believe that could happen if he kept up his determination to work on his confidence, which he fully intended to. ‘Yes, of course, you get off, Miss Sims. I'm just going to ready myself.'

He returned to the boss's office, to tidy his desk and collect his belongings. As she always did before she left, Jackie did a check around to make sure all the drawers were locked and, not doubting Al at all, double checking that the switchboard had been put over to night service. Gratified to see it had, she was just rounding his desk when she noticed something sticking out from under the call log book and saw it was Al's wallet, which he'd obviously forgotten to take with him. He wouldn't be able to pay his bus fare without his money and the conductor would throw him off. If she rushed she might just catch him at the stop.

Quickly telling Harold why she was dashing off and asking him if he minded locking up, which he assured her he absolutely didn't, Jackie shot out.

Outside the camp gates, from a position affording her a good view of the bus stop, she surveyed the queue. Chatting and laughing together were several chalet maids who lived locally and the two women who worked in the accounts office. There was also a handful of campers obviously going into Mablethorpe for the evening or on to Skegness. Al wasn't amongst them. She frowned in confusion. Where was he? Then she saw the bus in the distance. She looked back towards the staff entrance gates. Still no sign of Al. The bus drew up at the stop and the queue got on. The bus pulled away again. If Al wasn't on the bus then the only way he was getting home tonight was by walking. Giving a shrug, she put his wallet in her handbag and made her way over to the chalet to wait for Ginger to return. They would eat at the restaurant together before Jackie returned to get ready for her night out with Vic.

An hour later she was sitting on a chair before the small chest of drawers in the chalet, peering into the propped-up mirror, putting on her make-up.

Ginger was sitting on her bed unwinding huge rollers from her hair in an effort to straighten it a little, which it would do but only for a short while before it sprang back into its usual mass of spring-like curls. She was meeting the girls who worked with her on reception and they were going to watch the weekly talent show held in the Paradise ballroom. ‘So where is Vic taking you tonight?' she asked Jackie.

‘I don't know. Damn, I've smudged my mascara! Have you got a tissue or cotton-wool ball handy?'

Ginger threw her a cotton-wool ball which landed beside Jackie on the floor. Bending to pick it up, she dabbed at the offending smudge under her lower lashes until it was gone, then spat on her block of black mascara, ran the little brush over it, and when it was fully loaded began blackening her lashes again with a thick layer. ‘I'm determined that I'm going to pay for at least one round tonight. I feel so guilty that every other time we've been out Vic hasn't let me put my hand in my pocket. I know he's saving hard to be able to buy himself a business when he's ready to leave the band.'