Left for Dead

by Paul J. Teague

  Charlotte, Sally and Jenna had already taken a table at the Old Codger’s Bar. That’s what the staff called it. Its real name was The Golden Nights Bar, but it amounted to the same thing. This was where the more mature members of staff pulled pints and spent time talking to the customers. In the corner was a keyboard, a drum machine and a bass guitar, all plugged into a single amplifier and running through two speakers. The hum of the mains could be heard when the buzz of conversation took a lull and the musical instruments sat there, promising an evening of middle-of-the-road entertainment. Nothing too raucous.

  Charlotte and Jenna had told him earlier that they’d taken to starting their evenings in this bar. When you were sober, you could hear yourself speak, they’d said. It was always quiet until after ten o’clock. At that point, like vampires rising from their graves to inhabit the night, the oldies would spontaneously rise and begin to dance in the way only old people can. They knew the steps off by heart, coordinating their movements like two hearts beating together in perfect time.

  ‘I think you know Abi already?’ Will said, smiling at the girls around the table. Charlotte seemed particularly keen to see him, but a frosty chill swept the small group as Abi grabbed a seat and placed herself directly between Jenna and Charlotte.

  ‘I don’t know you, do I?’ Abi spoke to Sally, holding out her hand. Abi had a small tattoo on the inside of her forearm, one of those that could be found inside the wrappers of chewy sweets. Sally obviously clocked it but was gracious anyway. She seemed more preoccupied with the love bites and how far below her top they traversed.

  ‘Abi is in the room opposite me,’ Will continued. ‘I hesitate to call it a chalet - I don’t want to perpetuate the myth.’

  Charlotte’s smile disappeared, and her eyes bored into Abi, fixating on the marks on her skin. Will followed her gaze, sensing now that Abi was a negative force in this environment.

  ‘Sally’s bloke is a Purple Coat!’ Jenna announced.

  She was drinking a double vodka. If that was her warm-up drink, Will wondered what she would choose once it got later into the night.

  He topped up Jenna’s drink and bought a round for Abi and himself. Sally and Charlotte were pacing themselves a little better.

  ‘So, how was your first day?’ Jenna asked.

  ‘I’m getting the hang of it,’ Will replied. ‘There’s a lot to remember though. I’m sure it’ll become routine pretty fast.’

  He reached out to pick up his pint and Sally winced loudly.

  ‘My God, Will. What have you done to your hand? It’s red raw!’

  Will forgot to conceal the burn that he’d sustained earlier at Bruce’s hands. He’d run it under a cold tap in the toilets afterwards and the discomfort had subsided. However, it had left a red patch on the skin that would take some time to disappear.

  ‘Oh, idiot here splashed hot water all over himself in the kitchens. I haven’t quite got the hang of those catering kettles yet. I guess I won’t be doing that again.’

  ‘It’s easily done, Jenna replied. ‘I’m doing it all the time. Usually because I’m chatting away and the teapot overfills.’

  Will noticed Charlotte was studying him. Like she knew.

  ‘Where’s your bloke tonight?’ Abi asked. ‘You’re still with Bruce, aren’t you? How’s that going?’

  Charlotte seemed distracted, then realised that Abi was speaking to her.

  ‘Oh, he works the bars in the evenings. He often double shifts it. A lot of them do it in the kitchens - they can double their wages.’

  ‘You want to watch that Bruce,’ Abi said. ‘I’ve been working here for three years. He’s a right one, believe me. Just be careful.’

  Will, Jenna, Sally and Charlotte looked at Abi, a look of astonishment on their faces. Abi looked like she’d just let off a stink bomb in church. Charlotte’s arms retracted a little in her sleeves and she touched her right shoulder, only for a moment. Will saw all of it.

  The musicians walked up to their equipment and got ready to perform.

  ‘Hey look, it’s Chaz and Dave!’ Sally laughed.

  She was right too. The duet - who called themselves The Pure Notes - looked like they’d modelled their entire stage image on the seventies performers. Both had beards which would have attracted the speculative attention of any nearby nesting bird. Their ample grey hair protruded from their flat caps and both wore Union Jack waistcoats.

  There was the smallest ripple of applause as they walked over to their instruments and readied themselves to play. The bass player - Guy according to his name badge - threw the strap over his shoulder, adjusted the instrument so that it was comfortable in his hands, then moved his fingers over some of the strings to ensure that it was correctly connected to the amplifiers.

  Both had microphones, warming up with the customary One-Two-One-Two vocal test, throwing in a three every now and then for good measure. The keyboard player tested a few notes, then, like a married couple who knew every routine of their relationship, they looked at each other, nodded, and in perfect unison began to play an old crooner’s hit from the fifties.

  There was a ripple of recognition throughout the bar, which was far from packed at that time of night, as the assembled audience picked up on the song and were instantly transported back to their youth.

  ‘Well, you lot know how to party!’ Will laughed. ‘It doesn’t come much wilder than this.’

  ‘The thing is, you can hear yourself speak in here, that’s why we always start in this bar.’ Jenna explained. ‘The club area gets noisy, so it’s best to go there when you’re pissed and too far gone to find any words.’

  ‘Are you alright Charlotte?’ Will leaned over to speak directly to her. He’d noticed how distracted she’d become when Abi mentioned Bruce. He was eager to talk to her on his own, if the opportunity arose.

  ‘Yes, yes. I’m fine, honestly.’

  ‘Is Bruce okay with you being out with me tonight?’

  He was anxious to check, to avoid any trouble. Bruce had already demonstrated he could be fiercely protective of her.

  ‘Well, I’m not out with only you, am I? I’m out with Jenna and Sally… and Abi now. Besides, he’s working in the club bar, and it’s always heaving in there. There’s barely time to breathe when that place gets busy.’

  The small group stayed an hour in the Old Codger’s Bar, until the Chaz and Dave lookalikes started to invite members of the audience up to join them in a song.

  ‘Oh, that’s our cue to go!’ Jenna warned them. ‘A lot of these old dears are good, but some of the blokes aren’t.’

  ‘I’d like to give it a try,’ Abi announced. For the second time that night, they all looked at her.

  ‘Abi sings,’ Will explained. ‘She’d love to be a Purple Coat one day. Have you ever sung here before, Abi?’

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘I’ve been working here for three summers, but I’ve never even been in this bar at this time of night. I wish I’d known they did sing-along.’

  ‘Come on ladies and gentlemen, don’t be shy! Who’s going to get the ball rolling tonight?’

  Abi was up on her feet. There was a collective gasp from the group. Until that point, they’d seen her as uneducated and a bit blunt, not really their sort. And now they were bracing for embarrassment, as if Abi couldn’t possibly be hiding any talent under those love bites.

  Will watched as Abi chatted to the two musicians and they found a tune that they all knew.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, introducing Abi Smithson, a first-timer in The Golden Nights Bar. She’s going to sing Goldfinger for us this evening. One, two, three…’

  The familiar introduction began to play and Abi stood awkwardly by the microphone which The Pure Notes had placed at her disposal. Will could have reached out and touched the atmosphere of trepidation among his drinking buddies, who seemed aghast at the prospect of Abi - just a nippy - singing.

  The first sound from her was stunning. Her voice was strong and confident, even though sh
e herself seemed terrified. There was an enthusiastic round of applause from the growing audience as they all came to the realisation that they were in capable hands.

  Abi was stunning. This rough, coarse girl, who appeared to be covered from head to toe in love bites, was an incredible singer. It seemed like a freak of nature that such a sound could come from such a body. The Chaz and Dave lookalikes smiled at each other as they played. They’d been in the business long enough to know when they’d struck pure entertainment gold.

  The bar was getting busier now, as if the frisson of excitement caused by Abi’s performance had sent a spark around the holiday camp and word had got out that something very special was happening.

  ‘She’s absolutely amazing!’ Sally said. ‘I’ve got to tell the Purple Coats team manager; she needs to be on the big stage in the theatre.’

  The applause was enthusiastic and effusive. Abi seemed blown away by the response, as if she couldn’t quite believe that they weren’t booing her off the stage. Will thought she looked completely overcome by it, as he stepped forward to offer her an arm.

  ‘You were absolutely incredible!’ Will told her. ‘You’re a superstar in the making, Abi. You have got to do something about your singing career. Look, they all love you here.’

  Abi was half-laughing, half-crying, completely overcome by it all.

  There was a crash of glasses up ahead. Will was drawn to it straight away, sensing trouble immediately. As he walked with Abi back to the table, he saw Bruce Craven marching Charlotte out of the bar, his hand firmly gripping the top of her arm.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Present Day - Morecambe

  Charlotte knew exactly where she was going the moment she left the house.

  ‘So you’re sure you’re okay getting on with things on your own?’ she asked Isla.

  ‘Yes, my dear, I’m fine. I’ll get everything ready for evening meals and do a final once over on the bedrooms. You’ll be all set to go when the first guests arrive.’

  She paused a moment.

  ‘Are you alright my dear? I mean, is everything really okay? I had depression once myself, you know. I thought I’d never get over it. But here I am. I know what it’s like.’

  Charlotte looked at Isla. She’d never discussed her breakdown with her, but somehow, she could tell.

  ‘Is it that obvious?’ she asked.

  ‘When you get to my age, you’ve seen it all,’ Isla reassured her, touching her arm. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, my darling. If you need to talk to somebody, I’m always here. You can get through it, whatever it is.’

  ‘I appreciate it Isla, I really do,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I didn’t realise it was quite so obvious. But I’m alright, really I am. This is a fresh start; I’m putting the past behind me.’

  ‘Well, you know where I am if you need me,’ Isla repeated. ‘Sometimes it’s easier to talk to somebody who’s not involved.’

  Charlotte studied Isla. She wondered if at her age there was any crisis or problem that she hadn’t encountered at least once in her life. She craved Isla’s confidence, the surety that anything could be got through, however bad the scenario.

  ‘Just for a couple of days, while we’re all getting used to each other, can you give us a shout up the stairs in the morning when you let yourself in?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘Of course my darling. It must be a bit strange, letting someone have the front door key to your house for the first time. Is anything the matter?’

  ‘No, no. It’s just that we thought you were downstairs earlier on. It sounded like somebody was in the rooms on the ground floor. I guess we’ll just have to get used to the sounds of a new home. Olli’s been cursing the seagulls.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll soon get used to them,’ Isla laughed. ‘Just like you’ll get used to the roar of the sea on a windy night. It’s part and parcel of life by the seaside.’

  Charlotte smiled and left Isla in the kitchen. She walked over to the small check-in desk that was tucked away to the side of the hallway. Locked in the bottom drawer of the desk was a laptop. She fired it up and checked the bookings. There were seven new bookings to approve. Charlotte scanned the names; they were mostly couples.

  The previous owners had warned them off using the Seaside Stays website to manage bookings, but so far it was giving them a steady flow of bookings. Sure, they had to pay commission for the referrals, but they’d reckoned they could rely on the website for the first year or so, then try to go it alone and secure more bookings without having to pay their hefty fees. She checked that day’s calendar. The first check-in was after half-past four. The trains to Morecambe tended to arrive just after the half-hour.

  That was another thing the previous owners had told them - most of the guests arrived on the train. They were not, on the whole, car owners. Charlotte had thought they’d probably be taking their breaks abroad if they were.

  ‘Okay Isla, that’s me out now. I’ll be back for the first arrivals. See you later.’

  Charlotte was taking the car. With Will on the bus and Lucia and Olli doing the same, or walking if the weather was good, that gave her freedom during the day. She understood the dynamics of the day would change as the guest house became busier. But for now, that sense of space and free time was just what she needed.

  She could barely believe she was making the trip back there already. But she’d seen in the paper that the diggers were moving in at the end of the week. She wanted to go there one last time - without Will - to say her own, private farewell to the place.

  Charlotte took her time driving over to Middleton. Will was right: there were so many memories for them there. She drove past the bedsits and multiple occupancy rentals that dominated the West End and on to the houses on the road to Heysham, where the great and the good of the resort lived. She’d tutored a child there once, when they were students. The family’s house had seemed so grand back then, compared with their shared small, double room in a student house, where the walls were losing their battle against the creeping mould and the single glazed windows struggled to keep out the cold. Life had changed so much since then.

  Charlotte chose to check out the pub in Overton, which they hadn’t really explored the other day. As a young couple they’d spent many a happy night in there. At first, they were furtive evenings - before she was fully confident she’d got rid of Bruce. They were safe from his ever-watching eyes in there - they only went when Charlotte was certain he was working late in the camp’s bars. It was a three-mile walk along a narrow country lane, but it was worth it, to be alone with Will. And after Bruce was gone - really gone - that was when she finally started to relax, when she and Will really became a proper couple. And the bruises on her arms had long since faded.

  She paused the car outside the former pub and, this time, took a few minutes to have a proper look. In spite of it having been painted, she could still see the markings from the old pub signage. She turned the car around and drove the final miles to the holiday camp. She needed to do this alone. And she wanted to apologise to George.

  She could see that there had already been some signs of activity at the former Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp. Huge plastic bags filled with sand and pallets packed with breeze blocks had been neatly stacked to the side of the temporary car park. Charlotte pulled the car in tight so as not to obstruct any lorries which might arrive while she was visiting.

  Her first instinct was to sneak through the fence, as she and Will had done the day before, but it had rained since then and there was a puddle of mud where they’d been able to crawl through previously. The rain had come while she and Jenna had been meeting for coffee. That’s when Will had come home with mud plastered all over his shoes. She dismissed the thought; she was letting her mind get out of control again. The CBT had been a waste of time, but she did recognise the need to rein in her thoughts. She could be her own worst enemy at times.

  Charlotte walked over to the old porter’s lodge and looked through the fencing.


  ‘George!’ she called.

  Una came running up to her, barking, not as a guard dog this time around but as the animal that she’d petted the day before. George followed more slowly, smiling at her.

  ‘Hello Charlotte-not-Charlie,’ he said. ‘How nice to see you.’

  ‘Hello George. I just wanted to apologise to you for yesterday. I’m really sorry I rushed off like that. It’s just been quite - well, quite emotional really.’

  ‘You don’t need to apologise to me,’ George replied. ‘I’m just delighted to see that you’re okay. I take it you’re back for a tour? Before they bring in the diggers?

  ‘Is it okay if I take a look around? I’ve forgotten so much about this place. There are a lot of memories here, not all of them good, I’m afraid. They just rushed at me too fast yesterday. I was overcome by it all.’

  ‘You’re thinking about that boyfriend of yours, the one before you met Will?’

  ‘Do you remember him? I hope my memory is as good as yours by the time I retire. Or should I say semi-retire?’

  George laughed.

  ‘He was a bad one, that boy,’ he said. ‘I’d watch you walking with him sometimes when I was patrolling the camp. It was clear from your body language. I was so pleased when you and Will got together. You can tell when a couple are made for each other.’

  Charlotte thought back to how they’d been. She’d always been tense around Bruce. Not at first, but after… she just wanted to get away from him then. But it took some time; she couldn’t just walk. Not from a man like that, anyway.

  ‘Do you mind if I take a walk around?’ Charlotte asked. ‘You don’t need to come with me. I promise I won’t get up to any mischief.’

  George chuckled.

  ‘I think we’re all getting a bit too old for any mischief, don’t you?’ he smiled.

  Una was ecstatic to have Charlotte back, ruffling her fur.

  ‘Why don’t you take Una with you?’ George suggested. ‘She’s a patient thing, but I’m sure she gets fed up with me plodding around this place. I’m much slower than I was.’