Where Memories Are Made (30 page)

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.

T
he 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?

Stepping over to her bed, she sat down on it and carefully unscrewed the newspaper, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the rancid smell that emanated from it. Before she had fully spread it out, the mug shots of four men were glaring back at her, stained with chip fat but still identifiable. Two of the men she didn't recognise but the other two she certainly did. Jackie issued a triumphant ‘Yes!' as all the pieces of the maddening puzzle slotted together.

On hearing her, Ginger jerked her head up from rubbish-collecting to look over at her fearfully, demanding, ‘You've found a real mouse this time?'

‘There never was a real mouse in here, Ginger. What I have found, though, is the whereabouts of two bank robbers the police have been trying to find.'

Ginger screwed up her face in bewilderment. ‘What?' She scrambled up and came across to join Jackie, peering over her shoulder to look at the article on the grubby sheet of newspaper.

‘Recognise him?' Jackie urged her, stabbing a finger at one of the photographs.

Ginger shook her head. ‘No.'

‘Look closely at his nose. Do you recognise that?'

She looked hard at it for a moment before exclaiming, ‘Oh, yes. It's similar to the one we saw on that old man in the chip shop queue.'

‘Not similar. It's the same one.'

‘It can't be. That man in the queue was old and the man in the paper is … well, it's hard to tell due to that greasy stain but he's a lot younger. From that photograph he doesn't look like a nice man nor do the other three either. Definitely not the sort I'd like to come across on a dark night.'

Jackie told her, ‘Well, I did come across him when I went into his chalet by accident a few weeks back, and he's not a nice man. Nasty he was to me. There was another man in the chalet at the time and it was that man there,' she said, stabbing her finger at another mug shot. ‘He was in reception today, booking in for another stay for himself and his father under the name of Green. He had red hair and a moustache but all the same I just know it was him. Ginger, I reckon … no, I'm positive … those bank robbers are hiding themselves here at Jolly's … well, at least two of them are, and have been since they did the robbery … until the heat dies down and they stand a better chance of making their escape with the money they stole, abroad is my guess.'

Ginger looked sceptical. ‘Don't you think you're letting your imagination run away with you? Villains hide from the law in some isolated farmhouse or something like that … well, they always do in the detective programmes I've watched on the telly … so why choose a holiday camp where they stand the chance of thousands of people recognising them?'