Where Memories Are Made (9 page)

Al wasn't sure whether she was joking or not. He vehemently hoped not, especially now, and quickly informed her of the reason he'd taken so long over the tour.

On hearing the news about Sam she clasped her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, poor Sam. He'll be inconsolable.' Normally Drina would have dealt with this situation, and by rights Harold Rose should now, but judging by recent situations that he should have taken charge of, she knew he would profess that the work he was dealing with was too important to drop. She might as well get on with it. ‘I must go and see if I can do anything for Sam,' she said to Al. ‘Please hold the fort. I'll try not to be too long.'

He was bemused. ‘But what can you do? The donkey is dead.'

‘Before I realised how much his donkeys meant to Sam, I would have been of that opinion too, Al. But those animals are Sam's family. Losing one is as painful to him as it would be to us to lose a relative. If any other staff member had a death in their family, we'd all rally around and do what we could for them. I know Mrs Jolly and Mrs Buckland would want me to treat Sam no differently.'

Sam was a big, lumbering man of fifty-five. Most people took it upon themselves to believe he was mentally subnormal, judging him this way because of his slow way of talking in a thick Somerset brogue, and the fact that he preferred the company of his donkeys. The truth was he was as intelligent as anyone else; but his donkeys didn't look down on him in the way most humans did.

Jackie found him in the same position as Al had left him, lying next to the dead animal, his head resting on its neck, arm around it, quietly sobbing. The other nine donkeys had returned to the shed after seeing off Al and were back huddled in the corner looking on. The thought of being in such close proximity to a dead animal was actually repellent to Jackie and normally she would have refused to do it, but Mrs Jolly had trusted her to manage the staff, so that was what she must do.

She went over to Sam and squatted down on her haunches beside him, putting her hand gently on his arm. ‘Sam, it's Jackie. I'm so sorry for your loss. Why don't you come with me to your side of the shed and I'll make you a cup of tea? Then we can discuss what we need to do.'

It took a moment for him to respond, and when he did it was in a choking voice. ‘I can't leave Ermintrude on her own. Since the day she wa' born forty-six year ago, we've never been apart. Same as all the other donkeys. But out of all of 'em, Ermintrude is most special to me. Her mam died when she was born so me dad gave me the responsibility of raising her. Hand-reared her, I did. I used to sleep with her in the barn where we lived then, so I could feed her through the night. She thought I wa' her mother. She used to follow me everywhere. When I wa' at school, come rain or shine, she'd be waiting for me outside our back door in the morning to walk me to the end of the lane, and be waiting for me there when I came home again.'

He lifted his head then. Tears running from his red-rimmed eyes, he said, ‘I knew deep down Ermintrude's time had to be nearing an end … donkeys only live to about fifty … but you always think those you love will last for ever 'cos you can't imagine life without 'em. I had no warning at all. She was herding the others back from the beach yest'day evening, showing no sign of anything amiss. If she was feeling under the weather before she'd always let me know. Why didn't she this time, Jackie? I might have been able to do something for her. I hate the thought she was without me by her side when she died, that I never got to say me goodbyes to her.'

Jackie's heart was breaking for him. She felt so guilty for the times when, in her ignorance of people like Sam in the past, she had joined in with other staff members who were poking fun at him.

‘Ermintrude wasn't on her own when she died, Sam. The other donkeys were with her. Maybe she knew her time was up … they say animals sense these things, don't they? Maybe she never tried to tell you because she knew how upset you'd be. After all, she loved you as much as you did her, Sam,' Jackie told him.

He sniffed deeply as he looked back at her. ‘I never thought of it like that. Thank you, Jackie.'

She patted his arm tenderly. ‘We need to make arrangements for her, Sam.'

He told her with utter conviction, ‘I ain't having her made into dog food. Me dad never allowed that to happen to any of our donkeys when he was alive, and neither will I. They're all buried proper. Ermintrude is going to be next to her sister. When she died ten years ago, Mrs Jolly … well, she wasn't in charge then 'cos Mr Jolly still was … but she heard what had happened and came to see Dad and kindly told him that we could lay her to rest in a bit of scrubland at the back of the farmhouse, which ain't no use for anything else, and that she would square it with Mr Jolly. So I know Mrs Jolly won't mind if I put Ermintrude there too.'

Knowing Mrs Jolly as well as she did, Jackie too didn't think she would have any objection. Jackie had asked Mrs Jolly once why the old farmhouse and strip of land surrounding it was just being left to fall into ruin. Her response had been that she couldn't bring herself to do anything with it because of the importance to her of the person who had once lived there. Without their benevolence the holiday camp would not now exist and, until she could bring herself to change things, the farm would remain as it was.

‘When are you planning to have Ermintrude's funeral?' Jackie asked.

Sam obviously hadn't thought that far ahead. He stared at her blankly for a moment before he said, ‘Well, I've already let the little kiddies down so I'd best get the other donkeys to the beach and make a start digging her grave after …'

Jackie cut in, ‘You can forget going down to the beach today, Sam. You've had a huge upset and need time to get over it. At least take the rest of the day off, and tomorrow too if you need to. I'll have a message put out over Radio Jolly that due to a family bereavement donkey rides have been suspended for the moment.'

‘Thank you, Jackie. I'll get started on Ermintrude's grave then. It'll take me a few hours to dig it. I'll hold her funeral about seven this evening.'

Mrs Jolly, she knew, would be offering to be there for Sam, so as her representative at the moment, Harold Rose should take her place. Jackie couldn't attend as she needed to get home and be ready for when Keith came to collect her as they had arranged to meet friends tonight to celebrate one of their birthdays and she knew he was looking forward to it. She told Sam, ‘I'm sorry I won't be able to attend, but Mr Rose will be here to support you.'

As soon as Jackie walked into reception Ginger called her over to the counter, enquiring after Sam. Karen Green, the head receptionist, and her other assistant, Rachael Mooney, came across to join them, both obviously concerned about Sam's absence from the beach today. When Jackie told them about Ermintrude they all looked suitably sorry for his loss.

‘Poor chap,' mused Karen. ‘I'll put a broadcast out on the radio to let the campers know rides have been suspended for the time being.'

Ginger offered, ‘Well, I'm not doing anything special tonight, so I'll go to the funeral in your place, Jackie. Between me and Mr Rose, at least Sam will have some support.'

‘You won't get me going,' said Rachael, giving a shudder. ‘I hate funerals. They're so miserable … everyone crying and wailing, pretending they're devastated by the person's death, when in secret they couldn't stand them and can't wait for the will-reading to see what they've been left.'

The other three women made no comment as there was truth in what she had said.

Thanking Ginger for making her offer, Jackie went up to the office.

Harold Rose's reaction to her news when she went in to tell him made Jackie's blood boil. As soon as he realised she was expecting him to represent Drina Jolly at the funeral he was making excuses that unfortunately he had a very important engagement he could not break tonight and passing the task back to Jackie.

All her instincts told her that he had no such important engagement he needed to attend tonight, but had just used that as an excuse to get out of going. At yet another display of his negligence, Jackie's lack of respect for the man deepened.

She knew Drina Jolly would be very upset to learn that no one from management had gone along to support Sam, so Jackie had no choice but to go herself. This meant that she and Keith were going to be very late meeting up with his friends, and he wouldn't be very happy to miss most of the celebrations.

The funeral proved to be very distressing. They found Sam just finishing piling earth back over Ermintrude, the other nine donkeys grouped together as though they were all comforting each other. Sam himself was inconsolable so Jackie took it upon herself to say the Lord's Prayer over the grave. As soon as she said ‘Amen' Sam threw himself over the mound, unashamedly sobbing. The women decided to leave him to grieve in peace for his loss.

Had she not been aware that Keith was back at home waiting for her, Jackie would gladly have accepted Ginger's suggestion that they go for a drink in Groovy's. They were both in need of a boost to their spirits after the very sad occasion they'd witnessed.

Jackie finally arrived home at a quarter to nine. She was thoroughly drained after the day she'd had with no enthusiasm whatsoever for getting herself ready and going out with Keith's friends, but nevertheless would make the effort out of consideration of him. She wouldn't have blamed him in the slightest for being annoyed with her for another night ruined because work had intervened. Much to her relief, he didn't seem annoyed at all; just the opposite in fact. She found him in the back room, laughing and joking with her mother as they folded sheets she had laundered earlier, ready for her to iron another time. He obviously noticed how tired Jackie was, and she was grateful to him for insisting they spend what was left of the evening curled up together on the sofa, watching television along with her mother. Again Jackie reminded herself what a lucky young woman she was to have found herself such a considerate man in Keith.

E
yes sparkling with excitement, Joyce Caldecott blurted out, ‘So as soon as we've had dinner we can go down to the funfair. I want to go on everything … the waltzers, big wheel, dodgem cars, the house of fun, helter-skelter, shooting gallery, hook-a-duck …'

Grinning in amusement, Roger Daventry interjected, ‘Slow down, love. Save something for another night. We're here for another ten days. And don't forget we've a big day ahead of us tomorrow so we need to get ourselves a good night's sleep.'

‘As if I could forget what's happening tomorrow! But now we've got everything organised, we're allowed to have some fun, aren't we?'

‘Yes, of course.' He went over to Joyce, kissing her affectionately on the cheek, then took her seventy-year-old hand tenderly in his seventy-three-year-old one. ‘Come on then, but don't blame me if all those rides make you ill.'

That evening the old couple were having so much fun at the fair they were oblivious to the fact that their antics were proving far more entertaining to other fair-goers than the rides and stalls were. And the rides never made Joyce sick, nor even queasy, just eager to go on them again and again.

Roger woke at seven the next morning to find her already up. Dressed in a baby blue candlewick dressing gown, with matching slippers on her feet, and carrying her toilet bag and towel ready for her shower, she had her hand on the doorknob when she was stopped from turning it by Roger saying, ‘You're keen.'

She turned and grinned at him. ‘Keen is putting it mildly. I'm champing at the bit!'

He chuckled, ‘Me too,' and threw back the bedclothes. ‘Wait for me to collect my things and I'll come with you.'

At just coming up for two o'clock that afternoon Jackie and Al were working together to produce the hundreds of pamphlets announcing the next two weeks' activities, which were to be handed to the new arrivals along with their chalet keys on Saturday. Al was feeding in the paper and then turning the handle on the printing machine while Jackie was folding each printed sheet into three to form a concertina booklet.

It was two weeks since Al had discovered the derelict farmhouse. Having spent a couple of hours there each evening over several nights, he had achieved what was necessary to make the downstairs room habitable, moved in his belongings, purchased his materials, and was now happily living and working there. He still smiled at the memory of the taxi driver's face the night he had moved in. It was apparent the man's curiosity had been aroused by being called out in the early hours of the morning to deliver Al and his worldly goods to Jolly's Holiday Camp. But he had been really bemused when, instead of delivering Al through the gates as he'd expected to do, he'd been asked to pull over by the employees' entrance, where Al proceeded to pile his belongings on the grass verge by the side of the gate. Then had begun several stealthy journeys back and forth between the employees' entrance and the farmhouse, transporting as much at one time as he could carry.

He was struggling under the weight of the last of his belongings when he heard a noise that stopped him in his tracks just as he was approaching the maintenance building across the expanse of ground between that building and the back of the office and entertainment block. It had him quaking in fear that he was about to be discovered. Through careful enquiries he had found out that the security guards did their nightly check of the staff-only area of the camp around eleven, and as it was now approaching three in the morning it wasn't one of them that had made the noise. Al prayed it hadn't been made by an insomniac camper who had taken a wander off the beaten track in the hope of tiring himself out. If they did happen to spot him they would no doubt hasten to report his suspicious behaviour to security, which would mean he'd not only be out of a job but his plans for the future would be back at square one again.