Left for Dead

by Paul J. Teague

  The moment she stepped out from among the library doors, Charlotte began jogging. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten her date with Jenna; the morning had flown by in a whirl of activity. She’d been so busy, she’d barely had time to get her teeth into running the guest house. Thank goodness they’d taken on Isla; she’d been a blessing already.

  Charlotte was hot and sweaty by the time she reached the coffee shop. She almost didn’t recognise Jenna at first. She had dark rings under her eyes and her hair looked like it needed a wash.

  ‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ Charlotte said, pulling up a chair and struggling to catch her breath. ‘I got caught up in something. You’ll be interested to see it, I think.’

  ‘I’m so pleased you’re here. I forgot my purse,’ Jenna said. ‘I’ve ordered a coffee and a panini. I couldn’t ask you to pick up the bill for me, could I? I’ll pay next time.’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ Charlotte replied. After all, she did owe her one for being late. Though she had paid last time. Jenna had made some fuss about her card being flagged or something like that.

  Charlotte ordered lunch and a drink and settled in to catch up with her old friend.

  ‘So, how are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, you know. Same old shit,’ Jenna laughed.

  ‘Yes, I know the feeling. Lucia’s at home and off school. Will and I had a bit of a fall out last night. And Olli is embarrassed by me. As you said, same old shit. Did you say you’re seeing somebody at the moment? Surely you’ve got some fun in your life?’

  ‘Yes, on and off, I suppose. A local chap. It’s only a casual thing, you know how it is. Or maybe you don’t. What’s it like being married to someone for so long?’

  ‘Me and Will were living together for years. We’ve been married for twenty-four years - it’s our big anniversary next year. Did you ever think we’d make it that far?’

  ‘Yes, you and Will were destined for each other. I was always jealous of you both. You met, you fell in love and that was it. I wish it had been that easy for me.’

  For the first time since they’d got in contact again, Charlotte could put her finger on what wasn’t quite right with Jenna. Everything she said was tinged with sadness and regret.

  Charlotte had enjoyed her morning and had no desire to get mired in anything negative. She took out her phone and opened up her images folder.

  ‘Take a look at this, Jenna. How gorgeous were we then?’

  Jenna took the phone and expanded the pictures on the screen.

  ‘These are amazing!’ she said. ‘Where did you get them?’

  ‘They’re from old newspapers at the library. They’re all on microfiche and old, curled up newspapers. It’s brilliant, isn’t it?’

  ‘Look how skinny we both were. And look at your Princess Di haircut! What happened to us?’

  ‘Life and babies happened. Oh, I’m sorry Jenna. I just assumed…’

  ‘It’s fine, honestly,’ Jenna said. The sadness was back again. ‘Pies and lager, that’s where my weight come from.’

  Charlotte’s food arrived, a timely distraction from her clumsiness.

  ‘I have to ask you - tell me to buzz off if I’m prying,’ Charlotte began.

  ‘Go on, I’m an open book.’ Jenna replied.

  ‘You and Bruce Craven are standing very close together in that photograph. What made you go with him after he and I split up? You knew what he was like.’

  Bruce’s name almost stuck in her throat. But she wanted to know.

  ‘It’s so long ago now, isn’t it?’ Jenna replied. She seemed to be stalling. ‘Look, it was years ago, I think it’s safe to tell you now… please don’t hate me for this. But we were kids, right? We were young and stupid. It’s all water under the bridge, yes?’

  Charlotte postponed her bite of toastie and looked closely at Jenna’s face.

  Jenna kept her head down. ‘Me and Bruce had a thing going on for a short time before you and he split up. I’m sorry. Our relationship overlapped with when you were with him. It was a shitty thing to do. But God, he was so well built. I couldn’t resist a try on that.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Present Day - Morecambe

  For the second time that day, Charlotte felt like throwing up. Jenna was talking about events that occurred thirty-five years ago. So why did it feel like such a betrayal?

  ‘As you say, we were young and daft back then,’ was all Charlotte could think to say to fill the silence.

  ‘Aren’t you going to finish that toastie?’ Jenna asked.

  ‘No, it turns out I’m not that hungry,’ Charlotte replied. ‘You have it if you want.’

  ‘I see Abi is in that photo too. Did you know she still lives locally? It’s amazing how many of us settled around here.’

  ‘Will said something about it, yes. Do you still see her?’

  ‘No, not really. She sings in local pubs and clubs these days. She had a daughter, you know, when we were all working at the camp. She never mentioned that, did she?’

  ‘I knew,’ Charlotte said. ‘Well, Will knew and he asked me to keep it to myself. So I did.’

  ‘She was a funny one. Remember all those love bites she had? What was it they used to call it? Chalet rash? God, that’s funny. We were so young, weren’t we?’

  ‘What made you go with Bruce when you knew how he’d behaved with me?’ Charlotte asked. She needed to know.

  ‘You’re forgetting how good looking he was,’ Jenna answered. ‘Don’t you remember that six-pack he had? I guess I thought that you and he were as good as over, and it was just a bit of fun over summer. Besides, he just dumped me unceremoniously, don’t you remember? He just quit his job and pissed off back to Newcastle or wherever it was he came from.’

  Charlotte felt in her back pocket. She’d had no time to check the faxes from the library yet. She didn’t want to do it with Jenna there, not now she knew about her and Bruce. She and Jenna had grown apart after they went back to college. She’d always put it down to Will being on the scene. She’d spent so much time over in Will’s room, she had all but dropped Jenna and left her to her own devices. She had no idea what was going on in her life towards the end of that summer.

  ‘I always wonder if it’s how you were back then.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Jenna looked agitated, her right leg shaking up and down. Charlotte found it distracting.

  ‘Well look, you can see it in that photo. Your body language. You were so timid in those days. I wonder if he could sense it. Maybe it brought the worst out in him?’

  Jenna’s amateur psychology had hit the nail directly on the head. Charlotte had been asking herself that very question for more than three decades. Was it my fault? Was I asking for it? Was it something that I did?

  ‘Do you believe that, Jenna? That a woman encourages it by her behaviour? Have all these years of equal rights been lost on you?’

  She could feel the anger rising. There was probably a good reason why she and Jenna had drifted apart by their second year at college. And perhaps it had been foolhardy returning to the past.

  ‘No, a woman never encourages it,’ Jenna was quick to backpedal. ‘I just wonder if sometimes men and women bring out the worst in each other. I’ve had my fair share of idiots; don’t think I’m crowing. Besides, I was always jealous of you. Girls like me and Abi always had to try so hard. You had all the guys drooling over you.’

  ‘I didn’t!’ Charlotte protested.

  ‘You did,’ Jenna answered. ‘You just never knew it. Every guy in the place was jealous of Bruce when he was going out with you. And when you and Will got together - well, I think Bruce’s image took a bit of a knock among the staff. I think he was pissed, that’s all. And by taking your place for a short time… well, it made me feel like I was you for a little while.’

  There it was again. That sadness.

  ‘I never saw it that way,’ Charlotte said, thinking back to how things were. ‘That’s never how it lo
oked to me. I had no confidence at that age. I’m not so sure things are better now.’

  Jenna had become increasingly fidgety while they’d been talking.

  ‘I need to go, sorry, I have to be someplace.’

  ‘That’s okay, I’ll pick up the bill,’ Charlotte replied.

  ‘We must do this again sometime… soon?’

  ‘Yes, yes, let’s.’ Charlotte replied. She had no intention of setting a date. It was time to cut Jenna loose; there was nothing good that was likely to come out of the re-acquaintance.

  Charlotte watched as Jenna left the coffee shop and poured herself a second cup of tea from the pot. She felt in her back pocket and drew out the fax sheets.

  They were now even more tightly curled than when Jon handed them to her. She rolled them the opposite way and flattened them on the table. There were two entries from the electoral register. Jon had also handed her a newspaper cutting on which he’d scribbled Same Craven?

  She examined the Electoral Register first. Jon’s colleague at Newcastle had found two possibilities. There was a B.A. Craven and a J.T. Craven in Gateshead. It wasn’t that one. The other listing looked promising. It was family listing based in Jesmond, which is what the local paper had said. P.L. Craven, A.S. Craven and B. Craven. No middle name. She tried to recollect. Hadn’t that been one of Bruce’s first-date facts? No middle name, just Bruce. And named after Bruce Forsyth too. His mum loved Bruce Forsyth, she remembered that. He’d been so funny on that first night out. Bastard.

  That was Bruce alright, with his address in Newcastle. She turned to the final piece of paper which had rolled itself up again. She flattened it on the table, holding the far end down with the teapot. It was a newspaper cutting. The date had been scribbled on it, beneath the comment. The cutting was from The Newcastle Herald, an article from 1982.

  Tragic Death of Jesmond Couple the headline read.

  Jesmond residents turned out in their hundreds today to pay their final respects to much-loved local couple Paul and Alison Craven, who died tragically in their terraced home on Tuesday 6th April. The couple died from carbon monoxide poisoning resulting from a faulty gas fitting in their front room. The couple were much respected for their work in the local community. They are survived by their only son, Bruce Craven.

  This was two years before working at the holiday camp. Bruce had no family; his parents were dead. They’d died just after he’d started his first stint working at the holiday camp. Three years’ worth of summers he’d been there in 1984, that’s what he’d said. Charlotte looked up the 1982 calendar online. The holiday camp always opened up the week before Easter. Tuesday 6th April was Easter week; Bruce would have been killed alongside his parents if he hadn’t started working at the holiday camp. Then the thought struck her, but she dismissed it immediately. Had Bruce just got lucky with his timing? Surely not – he wouldn’t murder his parents?

  Charlotte wanted to speak to Will and she was in no mood to wait. She looked at her phone, knowing he was in work until four o’clock. She wanted to have that conversation right now. She had to know what happened after Will fought with Bruce on the beach. Was Bruce back for some sort of revenge? Was he going to threaten them? She sent Will a Facebook message. Come home straight away tonight please. We need to talk. x

  She scanned her phone. If the email booking that Isla had mentioned was genuine, a Bruce Craven was due to check into the guest house at three o’clock that afternoon, or thereabouts. If by some miracle he did turn up, at least she’d be able to confront him then. They were all adults now; she’d threaten him with the police. There would be no keeping silent this time around. It was probably just some sick joke. If it was him, he was trying to intimidate them again.

  As she pressed Send on her note to Will, Charlotte noticed that she’d missed a couple of messages while she’d been in the library. She’d switched off her notifications at the request of the librarian. That was annoying.

  Lucia had got in contact.

  I’m up and fine. I want to talk about school. I’m not happy Mum. Can we chat when you’re back?

  Will got straight back to her too.

  Coming back now. I’ve only got admin time this afternoon, see you asap.

  Finally, there was a new message from her mystery connection. As soon as she read it, she stood up, gathered her papers and left the shop, forgetting to pay the bill.

  Just about to check-in at the guest house. Hope there’s somebody at home. BC

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  1984 - Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp

  Will hated it when there was tension in the air. He and Charlotte were still getting used to each other, but he could tell that she was furious with him. And it all centred on Abi.

  ‘Look, I can’t let Abi down now. I promised her I’d help her with her maths. That was before you and I got together. If I fancied Abi, I’d be going out with Abi. But I’m not - I’m going out with you!’

  ‘She’s so predatory, everything she says has some sexual overtone to it. And I can tell she likes you…’

  ‘She’s entitled to like me, Charlotte.’

  ‘I don’t mean in a platonic way! She’s always making eyes at you. Can’t you see that?’

  ‘There’s nothing going on and nothing’s going to happen. She’s doing well with her maths - that’s all I’m interested in.’

  ‘It’s not all she’s interested in.’

  ‘I feel sorry for her, if you really want to know. People like you and me have all the advantages - well-off parents, a good start in education, a supportive home environment. Abi’s had people telling her how useless she is her whole life. And you saw how she sang in that bar. I just want to give her some confidence, that’s all.’

  He knew Charlotte had to concede at that point, but she obviously begrudged it. She was at risk of becoming like Bruce if she was going to become possessive and controlling in the relationship. But he knew not to say that - it wouldn’t go down well.

  ‘Did Mickey let you see the rotas for the week? You’ll be able to steer clear of Bruce if you go out. You can avoid whichever bar he’s working in.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be out tonight - not until you and Abi are done. Jenna seems to have got friendly with somebody else; she’s never around these days. I’ll just get some washing done in the sink and maybe read my book.’

  ‘Why not use the launderette?’

  ‘It’s faster in the sink. Besides, those machines are always busy.’

  ‘Did you mention the underwear incident to Mickey?’

  ‘No, because…’

  ‘Charlotte! You promised you would.’

  ‘When I started talking about it, it just seemed ridiculous. Besides, we can’t prove it was Bruce.’

  ‘Who else do you think it was?’ Will asked.

  Charlotte was silent.

  ‘If I told Mickey about the underwear, I’d have to go into all the details about the relationship. I don’t want to discuss all that with him. Do you trust him not to go gossiping to everybody else?’

  This time it was Will’s turn to concede defeat. Mickey was hardly what you’d call a personnel professional, but he was their first line of contact for any queries or issues. And, as such, he was lacking in skills, discretion or training. Only that morning he’d sidled up to them at their workstations to let them know why Lydia Fellowes had had to leave at short notice.

  ‘Pregnant,’ he revealed. ‘And not by her husband back home! Cast your eye over to the kitchen porters and you’ll find the culprit there.’

  Although Will had been as interested as everybody else in the news, he’d felt sorry for Lydia, even though he was only on nodding terms with her. After all, the chances were they all knew about her pregnancy before her husband did. So he understood why Charlotte was reluctant to pour her heart out to Mickey.

  ‘Okay, look, we can chat more later. I’m going around to Abi’s, but I’ll be no more than an hour. We’ll both have had enough of quadratic equations an
d algebraic formulae by that time.

  He moved to give Charlotte a kiss, but it was reluctantly received, and she clearly had no intention of returning it.

  Will made his exit. Charlotte and Jenna’s shared chalet was in a different block to his own, so it took him five minutes to make his way along the long balcony that ran on the exterior of her floor, walk down the steps then repeat the process up the stairs to Abi’s and back to his own chalet. He wondered if it might help matters if Charlotte moved in with him. If she was in the opposite room to Abi, she’d see for herself that nothing was going on.

  The lock on the bathroom door slid across and Abi stepped out into the recess around which the doors to their chalets were located. She had a towel wrapped around her head and a very small one wrapped around her body. It barely covered her crotch area.

  ‘Oh hi Will, I’m running late, sorry. Do you want to come in? I’m sure you’ve seen it all before. Just avert your eyes. I was just thinking, it’s funny that we’ve shared a bath together. Not at the same time of course. Yet!’

  She smiled at him, a twinkle in her eyes.

  He liked Abi, but in his mind, nothing was going to happen. He wanted to help her - he had no ulterior motive. From his point of view, it was as simple as that.

  ‘I’m going to be a gentleman and let you get changed first,’ he smiled back at her. ‘Just tap at my door when you’re ready - there’s no hurry.’

  Abi’s smile dropped a little. Will noticed how she’d got a couple of new love bites, but he hadn’t been aware of any men going in and out of the room. Her Liverpudlian chalet mate had all but moved out to shack up with another one of the bar staff, so she was just back every now and then to grab some clothes or make-up. It wasn’t that Will was running any kind of surveillance operation on her, but there didn’t seem to be any time for Abi to be out pulling men in the bar and taking them back to her room.