The next instruction from Randy was to be at the fire exit at exactly eight-thirty. He was very precise on this point, so Olive and Veronica did exactly as they were told.
Fortunately, they didn’t need to rush in quite the same way as on their way here because, if they had, they might well have lost their breakfast as a result. It was also fortunate that Veronica had her watch on and seemed as exacting about timings as Randy.
They arrived at eight-twenty-seven according to Veronica’s frequent time checks. Three long minutes to loiter. Three more minutes that they risked getting caught. Rather than lurk in front of the glass-panelled fire escape, they spent those three minutes hiding between two industrial-sized wastebins. It was hardly a glamorous way to spend life, but if putting up with a plethora of unidentified wafts for a few minutes meant gin club for life, well, it was a sacrifice that had to be made.
At what Olive guessed must be eight-thirty precisely, there was a clunk and the fire door was once again open.
‘Where the blazes are they?’ a familiar voice whispered.
‘We’re here,’ Veronica said, stepping out from the bins and wafting her hand in front of her like somehow that would remove the odour.
‘Quick. No time to hesitate.’
Not quite sure why they needed to be speedy, Olive sprang into action in a way she wouldn’t have thought possible after a morning of skinny-dipping, running, and a full English so greasy it could sink her. All these activities and it wasn’t even nine in the morning. And her son wondered why she didn’t want to do everything that was on offer at Oakley West.
Randy flagged them both in like they were racing cars coming in for a pitstop. Immediately they were in, Randy quickly secured the door.
‘Why aren’t they leaving it open like usual?’
Randy pointed towards the stairs. ‘Up one floor and to the lift,’ he said. Again he flagged them along and didn’t answer until they were up the first half. ‘Fire inspections. Matron is cracking down on the habit. Rightly so, too. We’d be in a royal amount of trouble if there was a fire. It would spread far too quickly. She’s threatening to sack anyone she catches doing it, so we can’t rely on fire doors being wedged open any more. Now shush. As far as the story goes, it was noticed that neither of you were at breakfast. I volunteered to come and see if you were okay. You’ll have to say you overslept or something.’
Checking the coast was clear, they all entered the first-floor corridor, bumping into each other as they went.
‘We can’t say we both overslept. Won’t that look odd?’ Veronica asked as they hailed the lift and waited for it to take them down to the ground floor where they’d just come from.
‘It already looks odd that neither of you turned up for breakfast. If you carry on going out on a Tuesday morning you’ll have to take your phones so I can make sure to be there and let you back in.’
Olive wasn’t worried about Tuesday mornings, although she would be if Veronica was concerned. Her immediate thought was Friday evenings and how they would get back in from the outside courtyard. Getting out wouldn’t be a problem if Randy’s arrangement with his anonymous member of staff continued. But regaining entry would only get them so far. And even though they could wedge the door open themselves and hope nobody closed it while they were out, Olive didn’t like the thought of one of the staff being blamed. She couldn’t risk one of them losing their job, although it seemed someone was already prepared to risk this by helping Randy. ‘What are we going to do about Friday nights?’ As Olive asked the question the lift doors opened again on the same floor.
Whatever Randy’s plan had included, Olive was certain it hadn’t included Matron being in the lift.
‘I was about to send out a search party. Where have you two been?’
Olive gulped as she hoped her last sentence had gone unheard.
‘They overslept,’ Randy said, as if it was a perfectly reasonable answer.
‘They both did?’ Matron glared at all three of them and it somehow produced an electromagnetic field preventing any of them from getting too close to her. ‘Hmmmmm.’
Veronica jabbed at the ground-floor button as if pressing it multiple times would somehow speed up the journey.
‘Yes, the extra sea air must be helping our sleep pattern.’ They hadn’t even visited the beach on one of their allowed extra trips, so this was one way to put her foot in it.
‘You both have wet hair.’ Matron was clearly working on her Sherlock Holmes detection skills.
‘Just out of the shower. No time to dry it with getting up late,’ Veronica said, her finger still hovering over the lift button.
‘Hmmmmmm.’ Matron pursed her lips at an angle that made her look as if she were chewing a wasp. ‘And why did you get in the lift from the first floor when you don’t live there?’
‘New exercise plan. Trying to do a bit more each day.’ Olive was rather too quick to answer.
‘Really? So, you must be hungry with missing breakfast?’
The doors pinged open having reached the ground floor.
‘I’m just glad they’re both okay. I’ll have to get them something at the café as we’re out for our first trip to Olive’s beach hut,’ Randy said, getting out of the lift at quite a pace.
Olive hotfooted after him with Veronica in tow.
‘How kind of you,’ Matron said, still eyeing them all up with suspicion as she exited the lift.
There was already a group waiting in the lobby with Melanie, the activities coordinator, ready to go.
‘Just one thing before you leave.’
Olive held her breath and was pretty sure the other two did the same. She must have heard the comment about Friday nights. ‘Yes,’ Olive said, aware she was far too high-pitched.
‘You have something on your top, Olive.’
Glancing down, it was very obvious what the sticky yellow blob was. The morning had been such a panic, she’d not had time to go to the ladies, let alone check if she’d left half her breakfast down her. Quickly, and because it was the only idea she had, she scooped the blob up with her index finger and smeared it into her hair. ‘It’s a new hair gel I’ve been trying. Think it’s meant for teenagers, though, given how bright it is. Have a nice day, Matron.’
Offering a wave, she headed for Melanie and the safety of the group. If she hung around any longer, Matron would be sniffing her shirt to clarify what she’d just been told. Sadly, her skills for spotting clues were far more Sherlock Holmes than Olive would have liked.
As soon as Melanie had the group gathered and they were walking to the beach, the three of them clustered together again.
‘You just wiped egg in your hair.’ Veronica giggled. ‘I mean, you just wiped EGG in your hair. Who does that?’
‘I was desperate,’ Olive said. And just like that, the bubble of laughter she’d managed to suppress came up in one gushing HA.
‘What an eggs-hilarating morning,’ Randy cracked.
Then, like opening a can of worms, the three of them had the most uncontrollable fit of giggles until at least one of them had let out a little bit of wee when they hadn’t meant to.
Chapter Twelve
You are cordially invited to the inaugural meeting of The Gin Shack Club.
When: This Friday 19:30 pm
Where: Olive’s beach hut
We will be trying some bespoke gins on a weekly basis and would be very happy if you are able to join us. Until then, chin chin!
Randy had done a great job on the invitations. He’d done them on high-quality paper and with the font he’d used they looked very grand. Olive had taken pride in delivering them in their pristine cream envelopes, sliding each one under the door of the intended recipient. They’d spent the last few days in an organisational frenzy. Who would have thought inviting a few friends over for a drink could be so complicated? But as it needed to be done in secret, it added a new element to everything they planned. Skylar being involv
ed was a godsend. Having someone on the outside was proving vital. Skylar had managed to coordinate getting the gin back into the ottoman when the weekly Oakley West trips were over and given the hut a spring clean. She’d stocked up on the tonics and extra glassware needed and, tonight, she was going to bring the ice and lemon and orange.
Olive was irrationally excited to think she’d be able to enjoy a G&T with real ice. Having made do with the ice-block-style freezer cubes since moving to Oakley West, it was one of those small luxuries she missed. Their reunion would be a very happy one.
In fact, she was excited about everything tonight had in store. She’d not asked for anyone to RSVP. There seemed little point when they’d given such short notice about the meeting, but despite that, she had a feeling they would all be there if they were able. If everyone came, there would be twelve of them in total. She’d considered not putting an invitation through for the Salter boys. Only TJ was old enough to drink alcohol. But she figured it would be rude not to and had instead Googled non-alcoholic drinks to come up with some alternatives to the gin. It made sense to have that as an option when some people might be driving.
Everything was in place, all they had to do was get there. Olive retired early after dinner to go and “read” in her bedroom. Instead, all she did was go and collect her book before meeting Veronica.
The fire door into the courtyard was wedged open. Olive tried not to think too much about who’d done it. If it was Randy she’d have to tell him off, and if it was a member of staff they were silly to be risking their job. If things like that started happening there would be CCTV fitted and their escapades would be recorded and there’d be no explaining away things with that kind of evidence.
‘Evening, ladies,’ Randy whispered from his peculiar position lying by the bench behind the bush.
Like covert operatives, Olive and Veronica went to their hiding places without prompting.
‘How come it’s wedged open?’ Olive asked in hushed tones as she passed Randy.
Randy turned onto his stomach and did a bit of a commando crawl towards her. He really was very agile for his age. ‘Apparently it shouldn’t be labelled as a fire door because, strictly speaking, it isn’t one. If this building were on fire and you chose that exit you’d be trapped in an oven. They’ve been told to take the label off and it means they’re allowed to wedge the door open. They’ve got to do a few other things as well to make it safe as a smoking area, including being able to open that door both ways. Anyway, safe to say it’s good news for us with regard to being able to get back in on a Friday.’
‘That’s good,’ Veronica said, although it could have been a talking bush, she was hidden so well.
‘It is,’ Randy said.
They were quiet then for a few minutes as they waited, all with their books open, none of them making any proper attempt to read.
Clunk.
The familiar prison-door sound filled the courtyard with brief noise.
‘Time to get our party started,’ Veronica said, clearly excited and at the door before either Olive or Randy had moved.
They were at the hut in plenty of time with Veronica’s whirlwind pace leading the way. It gave them chance to get everything ready. Olive displayed the gins while Randy set up chairs and Veronica polished the crystal ware. By the time they were finished it was perfect for their planned soiree.
It wasn’t long before Skylar arrived with the final ingredients for their evening. Mark and Lily joined them as their first guests.
Olive set herself the task of pouring the drinks. This evening, she’d decided on a rhubarb gin and an orange-zest one. They worked very well with a simple tonic, nothing overbearing to take away from the gins’ flavours. She’d also found, through her experimentations with flavours, that they actually went really well together. First, though, she poured the orange-zest G&Ts. The ice cracked in such a delightful way as she poured each measure of gin, it made her smile. What a glorious end-of-the-day treat that sound represented.
It was nice taking care in slicing the orange, adding a curl to the side of each glass. It was a bit like preparing dinner for the family, only much nicer. As soon as anyone arrived Veronica made sure they had a glass in hand until there were none left.
Hang on. There were none left.
Olive was sure she’d poured out ten: one for each adult who would be here, herself included. And yet she didn’t have a glass in her hand.
Confused, Olive paid more attention to all the guests who had arrived. She needed to make sure Aiden and Noah, Tony and Esme’s twin boys, weren’t drinking as they were underage. When she turned round to concentrate on the guests rather than the drinks, she let out a gasp. Clustered round the huts were at least double the number of guests she’d been expecting. She recognised most of the faces, but didn’t know many names.
Esme came over, an apologetic expression already in place. ‘I’m so sorry, Olive. I mentioned the club to Moira in the next set along. She wanted to know if they’d be able to join us when I mentioned it. I said I didn’t think you’d mind but I would check. Well, she offered a thumbs-up from afar earlier and I followed in kind. I think she might have taken it as my saying it was fine to come.’
‘Not to worry,’ Olive said, finding the whole thing rather amusing. Who’d have thought that gin was so universally loved? And it seemed it wasn’t just Moira who’d come along, but all the beach-hut owners from the next row along. ‘I just hope we’ve got enough glasses.’
‘I’ll get some from my hut if there aren’t enough. And I’m sure everyone here has some if we’re short. This is delicious, by the way,’ Esme said, holding up her orange-zest G&T. ‘Cheers.’
‘Do you need any help?’ It was Randy offering and his timing couldn’t have been better.
‘I think we need to pour more drinks.’
Randy’s hand was empty as well and it was poor form not to be enjoying the drinks they were providing everyone else with.
Olive quickly put Randy to work sorting out the orange slices and orange-peel curls. As she poured, he garnished, and soon they’d doubled the number of drinks, with Veronica dishing them out to those without.
This time the trio in charge of organising also got their hands on a drink. ‘To good health.’ Olive raised her glass and toasted her two new friends. The ice cubes did their glorious chinking dance inside the cup and, as she drank to their health, Olive savoured the flavour of the gin. There was something about that first taste. The crispness on her palate she didn’t appreciate in any other alcoholic drink in quite the same way.
‘And to bad behaviour,’ Randy said, and they raised their glasses again for a second toast.
The statement made Olive smirk. They were OAPs behaving badly, but when it tasted this good, what did that matter? As she’d shouted to the ocean earlier in the week, life was too short.
While everyone enjoyed their orange-zest G&T, Olive got the chance to mingle. She caught up with her friends, discovered Paul had thought he hadn’t liked gin at all, but had never had anything beyond a basic dry gin and was surprised to find he was enjoying the one he was trying. She chatted to Mark and Lily about how Button had ended up at the vet after getting a thorn stuck in his paw and going lame. TJ and the twins were playing makeshift cricket on the sands as always and were more than happy with ginger beers to drink. Tony was chatting to some of the husbands from the other huts, so she went to join Veronica who was busy talking with Skylar and Esme.
‘It really is invigorating,’ Veronica said.
‘What have I interrupted?’ Olive asked, wondering if she’d done a really good job of joining them at the wrong moment.
‘I was just trying to explain how we’ve ended up being such good friends already when you’ve only been at Oakley West a short time. I was just explaining that we knew each other already, even if we didn’t know each other’s names.’
‘Ah, yes. Destiny already had our friendship in its grasp.’ Oli
ve would drink to that if her glass wasn’t empty already.
Realising it was time to move on to the second gin of the evening, Olive headed to find Randy who was chatting with Tony and the other men.
‘Would you mind collecting the empty glasses? Then I can prepare the second gin.’
‘Let me help as well,’ Tony offered.
There would have been enough glasses if they’d had the expected number of guests, but with the extra numbers they needed to collect them and clean them ready for round two. Fortunately, the two men made short work of the task and Olive was able to fill the clean glasses. It was important the glasses were clean rather than shoving the second helping into a dirty cup. Any remnants of the orange zest wouldn’t allow them an authentic taste of the rhubarb gin. She wanted to know what they thought of it by itself. Then, for those who wanted a third, they would be able to taste the two together.
As it was getting darker, the Salter boys gave up on their game of cricket and were soon assigned to be waiters, delivering a second drink to everyone who wanted one. Their reward was a blackcurrant ginger beer each. The non-alcoholic drink proved to be a popular choice for some of the drivers as well.
The rhubarb gin seemed to go down well with everyone, their glasses emptying as quickly, if not quicker, than the first drink. It was one of Olive’s personal favourites. She’d just not found the perfect thing to dress the drink with. Mint leaves didn’t go, nor did lemon. Maybe if she could find what should go with it, it would be the perfect gin she’d been after.
‘I bet this would go well with one of the boys’ ginger beers,’ Tony said.
‘You should try it. See what it tastes like.’ Heading back to the hut, between them, Olive and Tony created a rhubarb gin and ginger beer drink and together the combination was rather fabulous. ‘Wow. I think we’ll have to offer that as the third drink of the evening.’ Somehow the ginger beer brought out the flavour of the rhubarb much more than the orange-zest, which seemed to work in competition with it.
The Gin Shack on the Beach Page 9