Family Values

Copyright Oggbashan July 2019

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

********************

I was still annoyed with my employers. I was a paralegal clerk dealing with house purchases and conveyancing. I had wanted to study a part-time postgraduate course. If I had that qualification I would be more likely to be promoted. The course lectures were in the evenings with two weekends each year. It would interfere with some of my sporting activities but although I was good at them I wasn't the best regionally or nationally. I wouldn't have had to take any time off my normal work for the course. The employers' sponsorship would have saved me several thousand pounds. Their refusal meant that I had to finance that myself. If and when I qualified, yes, I could apply for promotion but also I could look for another better-paid position with a different employer.

But I still had to find the several thousand pounds to repay the bank loan. I could have asked my family but they had made it clear that they wanted me to earn my living unaided. A previous generation had produced a few who had expected to live in luxury on inherited wealth. My parents hadn't been in that few. My father had joined the Army as an officer cadet, rising to Major before he and the Army decided enough was enough. My mother, a distant relation but also part of the extended family, had trained as a teacher. They now had access to some of the family fortune but didn't need it. They wanted me to make my own way except that they might help with the deposit on the house I intended to buy eventually.

My newish girlfriend, Linda, had a suggestion. Like me, she was another paralegal clerk employed at the same company, self-financing for the same course, and also a distant relation. Neither of us had surnames that hinted at the connection with the larger family because we were descended from daughters.

Linda was working some evenings and one day a weekend at the local caravan holiday park. She would be employed every evening she wanted during the school summer holidays. During the evenings she was either behind the bar in the clubhouse or helping out in the kitchen. On Saturdays she was cleaning caravans after the previous family left and before the next family arrived.

The holiday park had a problem. They had been for static caravans only but this year they had set aside an area for touring caravans. They had equipped the new area well but they hadn't appreciated the full implications. Normally their reception office was open until six pm. But touring caravans usually arrive later than that particularly if the local roads were congested, as they were at weekends and school holidays. They hadn't expected so many foreign visitors. The site was convenient as a last night stopover before using the Channel Tunnel or the ferries from Dover. They didn't have any staff that were competent in any language except English.

"Tom, you can speak French, can't you?" Linda asked during the coffee break at the college.

"Yes, Linda. Why?"

She explained that the holiday park needed a temporary, part-time evening receptionist particularly for Friday and Saturday evenings, and preferably one who could speak one or more European languages.

I knew that Linda worked at the holiday park. Arranging dates with each other had been complicated by our studies and her work. Sunday afternoons were the only guaranteed time when both of us were free.

"They pay reasonably," Linda said. "It's taxable, on the books and legitimate. I had to notify my employer that I was taking another part-time job. You would too. It tells your main employer that they aren't paying you enough to finance your studies, or home purchase. It's seasonal and temporary. The site closes from mid November to mid March but the hours they need from me are fewer in the early and late season."

"Cost of studies?" I said. "That's a sore point. I'm saving hard for a home of my own. I'm paying for this course with a bank loan because my savings are in a time-limited account. That and the extra costs for text-books etc. are nearly breaking me. I'd like to take you for a good restaurant meal. I can't afford much more than a cheeseburger."

Linda laughed.

"I know, Tom," she said. "I'm not much better off than you. We are both suffering from the conditions of the family trust - no money until we have established ourselves. When we go out together we might buy a cup of coffee. Neither of us have spare cash. My job at the caravan site helps. Why not apply? We would see more of each other, get free coffee - and you would get paid."

"Sounds good," I said.

+++

Things moved fast. Linda spoke to the site managers, Albert and Carol, and I had an interview three evenings after that coffee break. The interview was very brief. Linda had recommended me. As soon as I told them that I could speak French, German, and Spanish fluently, had basic Italian, and could understand some Dutch, the job was mine.

I had to see my main employers' Personnel Department. Within a quarter of an hour I was in the Personnel Manager's office. She understood why I wanted the extra money. She regretted that the organisation's finances had prevented them from supporting my course, and admitted, off the record, that she thought that policy was short-sighted. What mattered most to me was that she gave me permission to take the part-time job at the Holiday Park.

I started work on the Friday evening. I had taken some time-off in lieu of overtime to be trained with the reception staff from 4pm to 6pm. After 6 until 9.30 I was the receptionist. Albert and/or Carol would be available on the staff intercom system if I needed advice. I had a list of duties and responsibilities, which included monitoring the site's CCTV system for any incidents.

The weather forecast for the weekend was for continuous rain so I didn't have much to do. I had two families arrive for the few hired static caravans, later than normal because of flooded roads on their route. Both families had stayed on the site before so they knew, better than I did, what I had to do. I handed over the package prepared by the daytime reception staff.

Linda had suggested that I might have time for some course work in between bookings. I had brought my laptop. By 9.30, starting from nothing, I had written three-quarters of an essay.

Albert came to lock up the office. We talked for about ten minutes.

"Now you are an employee, Tom," Albert said, "You have access to all the park's facilities - the spa, the swimming pool, the clubhouse and bar. You can even invite friends to the bar as long as you pay for their drinks."

"I do? That sounds good."

"What might sound better is that Linda is on the bar tonight and it's quiet. As long as she doesn't neglect the paying customers, you can be with her. One thing. As an employee in uniform, even off duty, when you are on site you are expected to assist the holidaymakers if they ask, and of course, always be polite. Some of them..."

Albert paused.

"Some of them can be assholes, particularly when drunk. You'll have to be diplomatic. The owners don't treat customer complaints about bad behaviour seriously enough for the site's good running. There are some people we would prefer to leave the site because they spoil things for other customers. You'll soon find out who they are, or Linda will warn you. Be careful, Tom."

"Thank you, Albert. I will be. At my main job I'm used to dealing with some very unpleasant people. I don't think the site's assholes are in the same class."

"You might be right, Tom. Just watch yourself, particularly for the first few days. Some might try to bully the newbie."

"They might make comments about my tight shirts, Albert."

He grinned.

"Sorry, Tom, but they are the largest we had. Your new giant-size shirts and sweater with the Park logo will arrive on Wednesday. You'll have to make do until then."

"I will. I'm pleased to have the job."

"It won't always be as easy as this evening, Tom," Albert said.

"I would be surprised if it was."

We left the office. I went through the staff area to the back of the bar. I could hear the rain beating against the roof of the passage. Linda was busy at the other end of the bar. I walked around to the public area and waited for her to finish serving drinks. I looked around. Apart from the man Linda was serving there were another man and two women paused in a card game. That was it.

"Hello Tom," Linda said. "Want a drink?"

"Lemonade, please, Linda." I'm driving."

"Haven't you got a bike? It's not far."

"Usually, yes, I'd use the bike but in this weather? No."

An elderly couple walked into the bar. He was shaking his umbrella before putting it in a stand beside the outer door. They walked across to us.

"The usual, please, Linda," the man said, "and can you call maintenance for us. The electricity has gone again."

"Can you do that,Tom?" Linda asked. "Key 19 on the radio and tell Mike that Mr and Mrs Jones have tripped the switch again."

I hit 19 and spoke to Mike. I gave him Linda's message.

"OK. But who are you? I don't recognise your voice."

"I'm Tom, the new evening receptionist. I started tonight."

"Oh. That Tom. Linda's boyfriend?"

"Yes, I'm that Tom."

"Welcome to the madhouse. Tell Mr and Mrs Jones I'll have it fixed within ten minutes, and they must get a new toaster. Every time they use it - they blow the electrical fuse trip. I'll see you in about quarter of an hour."

I gave Mike's message to the Jones who were now sitting down with their drinks.

"I told you, Fred," Mrs Jones said. "Ditch that toaster. You can afford a new one. That's better than sitting in the dark every time you want beans on toast."

It was obviously an old discussion between them. I went back to the bar. Linda and I talked about our coursework for a while. Mike came into the bar clutching an ancient toaster. He walked across to Mr and Mrs Jones.

"This is unsafe and dangerous," he said but with a light tone. "I've confiscated it because you could give yourselves an electric shock."

"What will I do for toast?" Mr Jones said in a mock-despairing tone.

"Use the modern one I've left in your caravan," Mike said. "I found one that a visitor left behind. I tested it. It works. It's safe, and it won't cut the electricity off."

"Thank you, Mike," Mrs Jones said. "As for you, Fred, I know we're not rich but we're not so poor that you couldn't afford a new toaster, cheapskate!"

"I have to keep supplying you with red wine," Fred retorted.

His wife pretended to hit him.

It was obvious that none of the three of them was serious. It was an exchange between people who had known each other for years.

Mike came to the bar. Linda put a pint of bitter in front of him.

"Thanks, Linda. And this is Tom?"

"Pleased to meet you, Mike," I said.

"And I'm pleased to see you, too, Tom. My ancient schoolboy French was the best language skill on site until now. We're getting more foreign visitors and I wasn't competent."

He turned towards Linda.

"You did say Tom was large. Even so I wasn't expecting so large. Are you sure he's human?"

"Yes, Mike. Humans come in large sizes too. Tom isn't a threat to anyone except when he's playing Rugby."

"I wouldn't want to face you on a rugby pitch, Tom," Mike said. "I won't. I'm past rugby now."

"You played?" I asked.

"Yes, I was a winger for the local club but retired a decade ago. We could have done with someone your size in the scrum. What position are you? Lock?"

"You guessed right, Mike." I admitted. "I play for my school Old Boys. We're in a higher league than the local team."

The outside door opened. A man in his late fifties walked in, looked around and walked out again. The impact in the bar was obvious. Mike and Linda looked very serious. The Jones looked down at their drinks. The card players stopped playing until the man had left.

"Who was that?" I asked quietly.

"That was Adrian White," Linda whispered. "He's the patriarch of the White clan on site."

"And what Linda hasn't said," Mike added, "Is that the Whites are the most unpleasant individuals here. They make life awkward for almost everyone, especially the staff. The family has six caravans on site. We wish they had none."

"Be very careful with the Whites," Linda said, still whispering.

"I'll be careful with everyone," I replied. "I'm new, just after my first shift. I need to learn, not just about people but about how the place works."

I stayed until Linda closed the bar at 11.30, the usual time for an off-season Friday evening. In the school holidays there would be more bar staff and the bar would be open until 1 am on Friday and Saturday nights. At this time of year the bar closed at 10.30 pm Sunday to Thursday and 11.30 on Friday and Saturday. It could stay open later by arrangement for an event such as a birthday or a special football match.

I took Linda to her house in my car. She had arrived with one of the other staff and had an arrangement with several of them for car sharing. She told me that part of the unwritten staff rules of the Park was that no young woman should enter or leave after dark on her own.

"Why that rule? It's not an unsafe area," I asked after Linda got into my car.

She waited until we were driving out of the Park entrance before answering.

"No one says so openly but it is because of the Whites. The younger adult males think every attractive woman employee is their property. They treat some of us as if we are slaves with no rights. We get mauled, have our breasts groped, have hands up our skirts - not that many of us wear skirts on site - and have to put up with what the Whites call flirting. It's not. It is aggressive bullying."

"You're my girlfriend, Linda. Surely that should deter the Whites?"

"Girlfriend, fiancée, wife? It doesn't matter to them. If someone objects they have to deal with the whole White family, even the brats. The children are the worst. They shoplift, vandalise, and if the Whites take exception to someone the children will throw stones at their car and caravan every day until that family decide to leave the site. The three teenage boys are the worst but even the children under ten years old are nearly as bad, encouraged by their parents."

"And no one complains?"

"They do. Albert and Carol have written numerous letters to the site owners but because the Whites have six caravans, pay their site fees promptly, and buy a new replacement caravan every year - their money talks too loudly."

+++

On my next shift one of the younger men of the White family came into reception when I was on duty. I recognised him from the gym I was attending less frequently. He was taking a martial arts course and had fallen out with the instructor several times. He was polite enough. All he wanted was the menu for a local takeaway.

"I'm Terry White," he said as if I should be intimidated by the name.

"I'm Tom, the new boy," I replied

"You go to the gym, don't you, Tom?" he asked.

"Yes, but not as much as I used to," I replied. "During some of what was my gym time I'm working here."

"I haven't seen you at the martial arts classes," He said. "Any reason why not?"

"There's a very good reason, Mr White," I said. "I'm too advanced for them. I have higher grades than the instructors."

"Oh. Perhaps I ought to see you in action some time..."

"I'll be at the Regional championships in September," I said. I hoped that would hint that I was far beyond his level.

"You're a big lad, Tom, but the bigger they are..."

"I don't fall or lose very often, Mr White," I said.

He stared at me before walking out of the office.

Shortly afterwards a Dutch couple arrived with a touring caravan. They spoke good English but they came back with a problem within quarter of an hour. Their electrical lead wouldn't connect to the site's box. Their English wasn't sufficient and they argued in Dutch about what they should say in English. I understood enough of the Dutch to understand what the problem was. I offered to sell them an adaptor that would work at any UK campsite, or to lend them one for overnight. They bought one but I had to shut the office to show them how to fit it.

The next few nights were quiet. I was busier on Friday night. I had to help a German couple connect up their motor home before returning to the reception office.

On the way back I saw a woman struggling with Terry.

"Hey! Stop that! I shouted.

Terry released the woman who ran away in the direction of the club house. Terry came towards me with his fists raised.

"You shouldn't have interfered, Tom," He said menacingly.

"Would you have preferred to be arrested for rape, Terry?" I asked. "What you were doing was recorded on the site's CCTV, as is this conversation."

"They wouldn't dare..."

"Who wouldn't? I'm an independent witness."

"You don't know who runs this site, Tom. A word from my family and you'll be out of a job."

"And you would be in court for attempted rape, Tom."

"You'll see."

He lowered his fists and stalked off angrily. I went back to the office and copied the relevant parts of the CCTV recordings to a flash drive and uploaded them and all the other recordings in real time to my secure account on the web. I was able set all the feeds from all the site's cameras to copy in real time to my account. I arranged for the past two weeks, the longest record held on the system, to be uploaded in the early hours of the morning when the WI-Fi would be virtually unused. I'd have to download to disk and/or delete most after a week or so or fill the whole space.

I wasn't surprised when Adrian White banged open the office door ten minutes later.

"What the fuck have you been saying to Terry?" He shouted. "He can do what he wants here and no wet behind the ears new boy can tell him different."

"I stopped him from committing rape," I said quietly, "while in full view of several CCTV cameras."

"Fuck the cameras! The manager would never use the tape. We'd wreck the site if he tried."

"Is that a threat, Mr White? This office is also covered by CCTV."

He grabbed the CCTV camera by the door and ripped it off its bracket.

"Now it's not," He said.

"Maybe not, but it recorded you reaching for that camera. That's criminal damage, Mr White."

"You'd better not complain. You'll lose your job if you do. Watch out for yourself. "

He stalked out. Soon afterwards Albert the manager came into the office.

"What did you say to Terry White?" He asked, pointedly looking at the damaged camera.

"It's not what I said to him," I said, "it's that I stopped him raping a woman. I can show you..."

I opened the video file on my laptop.

"Oh dear, that's Mrs Roberts Terry was molesting. If she complains?"

"Why shouldn't she? She should know that the attempted rape was on CCTV and I'm an independent witness who stopped Terry."

"The Whites would make her life a misery and force her off the site."

"And you can't stop them?"

"I wish I could but the site owners won't back me, The Whites' money has too much influence."

"Who are the owners, Albert?" I asked.

The names were very familiar to me. They have a lot of rented properties in the town, the grotty ones, and they have a reputation of being bad landlords who ignore complaints and defects.

"Have you complained to the owners, Albert?" I asked.

"Many times, in writing with video evidence. Each time I am told to leave the White family alone."

"Can't the owners see that the Whites are damaging the site?"