Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
The holiday park was a mile from the centre of Aberwyn, where there were a few shops and restaurants and had direct access to the beach. It was a city of caravans and lodges, a couple of children’s playgrounds and a reception where the swimming pool was.
As it was early April and the site had only just opened, it was quiet, just a couple of the lodges obviously occupied. The grey clouds merged with the choppy grey sea, florescent buoys bobbing up and down like they were at a rave.
It felt good to be near the sea again, the brine in the air and the sound of the gulls making it feel a million miles from Manchester. I wanted to be back here, even for just a few hours, so I could feel the sand between my toes and watch the cold shock of the waves as they ran up the beach.
“Did you grow up near here?” Lachy was acting like a puppy being taken for a walk in a new place.
“On Anglesey, the island, so not too far. Some days I wish I’d stayed.”
“You could transfer.”
“I could.” I wasn’t going to though, even if Romy and Cassian would be over the moon if I went back. “Let’s hope the man with the key’s back.”
There was no one at reception when we got there, even though it was eight o’clock which was when it was meant to be manned from.
Lachy called the number for the holiday park, but it went unanswered, and we were hungry.
There’d been a greasy spoon food truck ten minutes’ walk away, so we headed there
A bacon and egg bap for me and an all-day breakfast for Lachy later and we were back outside the office, two women with swimming caps on ahead of us.
“They’re always a bit late,” one of them said. “Colin, that’s the bloke who mans this place, has a farm, so if there’s been an issue with something he can’t always get here for when it’s meant to be open.”
“That must be irritating,” I said, finding it irritating myself. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“It’s not every day, and he’s here now – look.” She pointed at a stout, balding man who was tootling along the path looking at his phone. “He’s alright, is Colin.”
We followed the ladies into the offices, a couple of well-looked after plants and a tidy sofa making it look welcoming. The smell of chlorine from the pool wafted through, the sound of a motor dull in the background.
They signed in, a simple hardback book where they entered their details; name, lodge or caravan number, the time they signed in, and left the time they signed out blank.
“Does everyone always sign in?” I asked Colin, showing him my ID.
He nodded. “This desk is always manned. We’re open from eight until one, and then two until seven. I was a bit late today – waiting for a feed delivery, but I heard you might be coming.”
“We believe you’ve kept all the signing in books?”
“There are twenty years’ worth in there.
We weren’t sure what to do with them, so we’ve just archived them.
Everything’s stored under the right year and in date order, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find who you’re looking for.
” He jangled a set of keys. “I sorted out the system seven years ago and now I don’t let anyone else go in there. ”
Which was handy for us, because Colin’s system was the pinnacle of a perfectionist.
We found the three years when Morgan had been there for the summer, July and August taking up a couple of books between them, so six books in total. For the next forty-five minutes we combed through them, striking gold at the same time.
“Here.” I took a photo of the page. “Kelly-Anne Marsh signed in with Morgan on the third of August.”
“I’ve found Sophie – the year after you’ve got, and twenty-fifth of July. Sophie Davies.” He took a photo of his page. “She signed in with Morgan and Chelsea.”
“We need the names of the boys: Lennon, Craig and Marc.”
Five minutes later and we had all three. Lennon Chase, Craig Hardman and Marc Anderton. I phoned Wrigley to let him know, while Lachy emailed the names over to Nick, who’d begin the search.
When we came out of the tiny, immaculately organised storeroom, the two ladies we’d met while waiting were there, signing out, both damp from the pool.
“Colin said you were looking for information about the girls who’ve died in Manchester. We remember them, don’t we Meredith?” The older of the two purposefully placed down the pen.
Meredith nodded, sitting down on the sofa. “We do. They were an interesting bunch of kids – do you remember Dolly’s mother? Christ, she was like something off a soap opera. She ended up being booted off here.”
“Oh, I remember that. She ended up being arrested – I can’t remember what for!”
“Disturbing the peace, come on Liz, you must remember that summer. Dolly was a real nuisance with the other kids – especially that fat girl, Kelly-Anne. Are we allowed to say that people are fat or is that some form of ist?” Meredith could definitely talk, which was proving to be useful.
“Overweight. I mean she was, wasn’t she. A real podgy kid with clothes that didn’t fit right, and her gran was an alcoholic. I wonder what happened to her?”
She ended up in a psychiatric hospital with an eating disorder and possibly murderous tendencies. It wasn’t something I could say out loud.
“There were a load of kids that summer. It’s changed now, hasn’t it, Meredith? More couples and grandparents, and less of kids here all summer long, which is better for us.” Liz sat down next to her friend. “We’re here from April until November, all season. This is our retirement home.”
“Do you remember any of the other teenagers from when Dolly and Kelly-Anne were here?” I leaned back against the wall, knocking my head against a drawing pin that was sticking out.
Liz looked at Meredith. “Morgan and Leah were here – God, Morgan’s one of the girls who was killed. It doesn’t bear thinking about; she was such a lovely girl, although she did follow Chelsea around a lot. I remember her, Chelsea.”
“She was one for the boys. I remember that. Her and Dolly definitely educated a few of those lads that last summer.” Meredith giggled. “I remember what summers like that were, don’t you, Liz?”
“I do. I was there. Long time ago though.” Liz sighed, looking at nothing in the distance.
“What were the boys like those summers? Do you remember Lennon or Craig or Marc?” I prompted, any insights could be useful, given that Wrigley was keen on pursuing any leads on where those boys were now. I knew information was already coming in; my phone kept vibrating in my shoulder bag.
Meredith frowned. “They played football a lot, and sometimes knocked about with the girls, but none of them stood out. They were on the beach or the field most of the time with a ball. They were what, fourteen, fifteen? They hadn’t got to the partying stage yet.”
“Were there any fallings out between them? Anything you remember about how they got on?” Lachy sounded impatient. He needed to develop his tolerance for older ladies as they were often a source of useful information.
Liz shook her head, then rubbed it with the towel she was carrying.
“Nothing you wouldn’t expect from teenagers that age.
They teased each other, and Chelsea and Dolly bullied the others in different ways, but that’s life, isn’t it?
The boys were just boys. It’s a shame about the girls being killed.
It wasn’t anything to do with coming here, was it? ”
I had every feeling it was.