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eyes, more than a suggestion that she had not slept the previous night; she
might have been crying as well. 'But please don't go off again, Gordon.'
'I won't,' hopes which he dared not raise. 'But if the worst comes to the
worst you're coming with me, the kids as well. It all depends on what happens
tonight.'
'Where would we go?'
'I ... don't really know,' he dropped his gaze, could not meet her eyes. 'But
I'm working on it. I'll think of something, don't worry.'
'Are we going to the funfair, Mummy?' Louise came running through, followed by
Rodney. The boy was strangely quiet; it was no wonder after his terrible
experience. All the same it troubled Irey.
'Yes, we're going to the fair and the amusement arcade.'
'I don't want to go on the boats, Mummy,' Louise's pert features were
strained. She might burst into tears at any second.
'We're not going anywhere near the boating lake,' Irey smiled but her lower
lip trembled. 'Nor the beach.'
'Can we ride on the donkeys, Mummy?'
'We'll see,' Irey paled, wondered how long it would be before the children
learned the fate of the donkeys.
As soon as they had gone Gordon stripped to his pants and vest and flung
himself full length on the bed. One fleeting thought crossed his mind as
exhaustion claimed him. Jean Ruddington was dead. He didn't know how or why he
knew, except that she was dead. It would not come as a shock when the news was
conveyed to him. Sadness, but life had to go on.
In the same strange inexplicable way he also knew that the crabs -would attack
the camp tonight. And that was a far worse prospect. He had to figure out some
way to get Irey and the children to safety. First, though, he needed to sleep.
Chapter Sixteen
Tuesday Night - The Blue Ocean Holiday Camp
RICKY WINTERBOTTOM was a worried man and not just because of the crabs. At the
moment they were a close number two in his list of headaches; Miles Manning
was number one.
Christ, the boss was a real bastard! A string of orders that had virtually
caused a Greencoat rebellion -'get the boating lake in action again and get
the reserve kiddies' motorbikes off the scrambling track and on to the donkey
field. I don't give a shit if it's churned to hell. A Greencoat Show matinee
as well as an extra performance tonight, and we want two major feature films
showing at the cinemas. The miniature railway can still run as far as the
sea-wall and back. Quadruple the bingo prizes and have all callers on
stand-by. None of the shops are to close before ten tonight.'
To use the chief's own catch-phrase, 'Jesus H. Christ!'
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Winterbottom was in the firing line, the meat in the sandwich between Manning
and every level of staff. They wouldn't dare say anything to Miles Manning so
they said it all to the camp manager. Security were getting pissed off too; a
day-long never-ending queue. Tell folks the crabs changed their mind about
attacking us last night so the chances are they'll leave us alone tonight.
Balls! Everybody was on the verge of panic. Two deaths from heart attacks.
Stress, but they were crab victims all the same.
'How's it going, Ricky?' Miles Manning wearing a spotless white duck suit
appeared in the manager's office. Suave, he might have been a district
commissioner in Africa when it was still part of the Empire, enquiring how
many natives had died in a recent outbreak of cholera. He didn't give a damn
really but he asked just the same. Underneath his veneer he didn't give a shit
about the crab victims either. It was the reputation of the Blue Ocean which
mattered to him. We kept the entertainment going throughout. In fact most
folks forgot all about the crabs.
'We got the shows going, boss,' Winterbottom had an unfortunate habit of
scratching his backside when he was nervous. 'Trouble is, the cinemas are
empty and there's less than twenty people at the Greencoat Show. Folks are
either clustered in groups worrying about what might happen tonight or else
they're stopping in their digs. All those extra soldiers turning up didn't
help.'
'They might if the crabs show up tonight.'
'They're making everybody as nervous as hell because folks know that however
many guns you got, no matter how big and powerful, you might as well use
pea-shooters out of the souvenir shops. We had to stop the hiking on the
donkey field, by the way. The soldiers have set up their defences there.'
'That's okay,' Miles smiled, blew a perfect smoke ring up towards the ceiling.
'By the way, a thought crossed my mind this afternoon, Ricky. We haven't had a
chance to bank the takings since all this began. Having all the cash in the
safes under one roof is a risk. A mob on the rampage might raid the office for
what they can get.'
'I don't think they'd have much luck. They'd have to know both combinations
because no way would they bust in otherwise, not even those anti-tank shells
would crack these modern safes. Or the crabs for that matter!' An attempted
laugh at his own weak joke.
'Nevertheless, I think we ought to distribute the high-denomination bank
notes. Pack twenty-five grand in tens and twenties, and any fifties you might
have, into suitcases and I'll transfer them to the safe in my quarters.'
'Christ, boss, there's no need to . . . '
'Pack 'em and I'll take 'em now!' Manning snapped.
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