‘Excellent idea,’ Tony said, as he fixed the drinks up ready for their guests.
The night had turned into a delightful bit of teamwork among her friends, and if this many people were going to turn up she would need as many hands on deck as possible.
‘Is this going to be a weekly thing then, Olive?’
‘Yes, we were planning on meeting weekly. I just hadn’t expected all these extra people. My gin stock won’t last very long and I can’t afford to supply drinks to this many people.’
‘Just make it that everyone who wants to come pays to cover costs. Would a fiver each cover it?’
Olive did some quick sums in her head, which was harder than it used to be. Twenty people paying a fiver each would provide one hundred pounds. That was more than enough to cover the costs of the evening’s expenses. ‘I’m not taking any payment for the boys, though. Especially with them helping out.’
‘Are you sure? They’ve only dished out a few glasses and collected them up.’
‘No. I won’t hear of it. Especially as the alcohol is the main expense.’
‘Great. Do you want to make some kind of announcement? Declare the club open and let everyone know, if they want to carry on coming, they need to chuck a fiver into the pot in future weeks.’
On the whole, Olive wasn’t one for public speaking. She would often get flustered and embarrassed, but here she was among friends and emboldened by gin. ‘Yes, Yes, I would.’
Tony took one of the knives they’d been using for orange prep and grabbed everyone’s attention by banging metal on glass. ‘Good evening, my fellow beach-huteers and members of Oakley West. I would like to hand over to our wonderful host, Olive Turner.’
Olive was suddenly aware of how much taller Tony was. Everyone went from staring up to looking down in seconds. The people at the back couldn’t even see her. Well, if she was going to do a speech, she might as well do it in style. Heading over to one of the garden chairs Tony owned, she glanced back in his direction. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Not at all.’ Tony smiled, knowing she was doing it so she could be seen.
‘Let me give you a hand.’ It was Randy offering his assistance as she got up to stand on the chair.
From this viewpoint, it was altogether scarier. She was able to see just how many people were there.
In her moment of uncertainty, everyone broke into a spontaneous round of applause. That, along with a few whoops and cheers, made Olive grin and her nerves evaporated.
‘Welcome, one and all, to The Gin Shack Club. It would seem quite a few of you share my passion for gin and the plan is to meet every Friday evening to try a new selection. For those of you wishing to come on a regular basis, from next week on there will be a five-pound charge to cover the cost of the drinks. Money in the pot at the start of the evening.’ Olive was feeling bolder the more she spoke. ‘For the most part, we would like this club to remain a secret, but I’m happy for you all to invite any trusted friends who you think would like to join us. And as we’re a bunch of old dears sneaking out from our retirement quarters in order for this club to run, it perhaps goes without saying that we’ll need some help with our organising, so any volunteers would be most welcome.’ They might have time to plot and plan, but what they didn’t have was the freedom to do as they pleased.
‘We’ll do whatever you need,’ Tony said.
‘We’ll help as well if we can,’ Lily said.
There were several other mutterings with offers of help and it was pretty clear everyone was eager for the club to continue running.
‘Right, well, to start with, I need someone willing to have gin delivered to their house, then to deliver it here and store it in their hut.’ These were the first two logistical problems Olive had thought of with regard to making sure no one at Oakley West was any the wiser. She was certain there would be plenty of other favours required along the way.
With Tony volunteering for both, it took no time at all for those issues to be solved. Before letting her off the chair, though, Tony wanted to say one more thing. ‘If you would all raise your glasses, please. I, for one, have had a fantastic evening, and I look forward to what this wonderful lady has in store for us next week. So, everyone, to Olive.’ He raised his glass in salute to Olive and everyone else did the same.
It almost brought a tear to her eye to be praised for something that was really her pleasure. If she’d realised before that this would be the response to her hobby, she would have opened her ottoman to guests a long time ago. The fact that it was a bigger gathering than she’d imagined made it all the more enjoyable. Being a gin lover shouldn’t be a secret and it was awful to think it was, simply because she was concerned about what her son would think. She still was. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She just had to keep it that way.
Chapter Thirteen
‘It was a marvellous evening, it truly was,’ Randy said.
The words echoed in the lobby far louder then he must have intended. The trio were meeting in the lobby for a post-club debrief. They’d not found the perfect place to meet at Oakley West yet. Everywhere seemed to be populated, such was the nature of communal areas. They had considered the possibility of meeting in each other’s bedrooms, but that would lead to all sorts of questions and Randy visiting ladies’ bedrooms was bound to get back to Matron. Not that it was against the rules, but she would certainly raise her eyebrows if she thought they were indulging in some weird octogenarian threesome.
‘Shall we try the library?’ Veronica suggested.
Olive and Randy both nodded, aware that there were other residents in the lobby, no doubt wondering if Randy was on drugs if he was describing the usual Friday night cabaret entertainment as wonderful.
Olive hadn’t been in the library much. In fact, she’d not visited it since being given the official tour by Matron on her first day. She normally loved to read and would have frequented it more often, but for some reason she’d been too busy.
The library room was small and tightly packed. There were rows of books and they’d clearly benefited from a library closing or something similar. There didn’t seem to be anyone in there, unless they were lost under a stack of books, so the three went in search of a quiet corner.
‘You’re right, Randy. It was a wonderful evening,’ Veronica said. ‘I want a T-shirt stating I was a founding member of The Gin Shack Club. And on the back it needs to say I was at the first meeting.’
Olive would have quite liked one of those T-shirts herself. She made a mental note to remember to get one made up for Veronica’s Christmas present. ‘We’re going to have to decide what gins we want to taste next week. I don’t think the bottles in my stock will be enough to go round the amount of people that were there last night.’ She was lucky the two flavours they’d tried last night were from full bottles.
‘At least we have somewhere for our parcels to be delivered now. I think the frequency and quantity of gin would have raised questions if we’d had it arriving here.’
Tony and Esme had been superb in helping out and were more than happy to assist with the deliveries.
‘I have a pink grapefruit gin I think everyone will like. It goes well with tonic or lemonade. We’d need to order more, though, and I’ll let you two decide what else. We can’t have my choices every week or it’ll always be biased towards my tastes.’ She knew she preferred flavours others sometimes found too sour.
The door to the library opened, so their conversation halted and they all tried to appear interested in the books around them.
‘Have you seen Melanie? I thought she was taking her break in here.’ It was a young healthcare assistant Olive didn’t recognise.
‘No, we haven’t seen her,’ Veronica said.
The healthcare assistant left to continue her search elsewhere.
Veronica exchanged a look with Olive that demonstrated her own fear.
‘Melanie.’ It was Randy saying her name and h
e sounded like a stern father.
There was movement from another corner of the room, confirming they weren’t alone like they’d thought.
They all headed in the direction of the noise and met Melanie at the end of the row of bookcases. She’d been hidden in a nook.
‘Why didn’t you say you were in here?’
‘I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have learned anything interesting if I’d let my presence be known. What’s all this about a gin shack club? I think you need to spill the beans.’
‘I was going to tell you,’ Randy said.
‘It’s a secret,’ Veronica hissed at Randy.
Olive realised straight away why Randy would be so willing to divulge information they didn’t want anyone else to know, least of all the staff. ‘You’re the person who lets us out, aren’t you?’
‘That’s why it was so important I was more prompt this week. So, when were you going to tell me you weren’t just popping to the pub any more? Where is this gin shack, anyway? Why haven’t I heard of it?’ Melanie was obviously quite put out she hadn’t been told, and there seemed to be strands of hair sprouting out from her high ponytail to match the mood they’d put her in.
‘It’s not a new pub or anything. We’ve just started a little club at Olive’s beach hut with a few of her friends. Olive’s a bit of a gin connoisseur. She’s introducing us to different flavours and combinations.’
Olive didn’t know about the bit about being a connoisseur. She just knew what she liked in life and gin was definitely high on the list.
‘Sounds fun. Can anyone come?’
‘We’re trying to keep it secret. Just keeping it to friends of friends.’
‘Do I class as a friend of a friend?’ Melanie’s expression was practically pleading.
‘Of course,’ Randy said. ‘Especially if you can get us down there on time every week.’ Melanie was one of the members of staff living permanently in the retirement quarters.
‘Excellent. I love gin. My next Friday evening off I’m coming with you. There’s nothing but old-man pubs around here, and no offence, Randy, they’re not really my kind of thing.’
‘No offence taken,’ Randy said. ‘I’m not sure they’re my kind of thing either. It’s like you say, there aren’t many other options. I have to say, starting The Gin Shack Club has been the most entertaining evening I’ve had in a long time. I can’t wait until the next one.’
‘Just as long of none of this gets back to Matron. I’m pretty sure she has it in for me.’ Olive couldn’t put her finger on it but, however welcoming Oakley West had been, none of that was down to Matron.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. Matron likes to think she has the upper hand, but far from it. She doesn’t know half of what goes on at Oakley West.’
Olive liked the thought that the Oakley staff were just as rebellious as she was. ‘You’ll be very welcome in that case.’
It was funny. Olive had spent the whole time worrying they’d get caught, and now, instead of being in trouble, they had another member for the club. In fact, so far, there hadn’t been anyone who didn’t want to join.
One thing was certain, though. They needed to be more careful about where they met to discuss the club, otherwise the whole of Oakley West would want to join them.
Chapter Fourteen
As soon as they took up their places in the courtyard garden the following week, the not-a-fire door creaked open and two more Oakley West residents wandered in. Rather than ask lots of questions about why Randy was collapsed on the lawn and the other two were hiding in bushes, the two residents joined them and also attempted to disguise themselves, not that there were many places left to hide.
Randy pushed himself into a semi-upright position, resting on his elbows. His confused expression told Olive he had no idea what was going on either.
Clunk went their exit, and the two ladies headed towards it before they did.
‘Who are they? Did you invite them?’ Veronica asked.
Olive vaguely recognised the ladies, but didn’t know their names. ‘I didn’t.’
It must have been Randy. He’d lived there the longest and knew everyone. But he just shrugged his shoulders, as puzzled as they were.
‘Come on, you lot.’ It was Melanie, standing in their escape route, flagging them in.
Melanie. Of course it must have been Melanie who told them. This keeping it secret and only inviting friends of friends was becoming very loose.
Realising they risked being caught if they hung around any longer, the three of them left the courtyard.
‘I hope you don’t mind. Mavis and Beattie have been asking for a wine-tasting group to be part of the activity sessions for years, but Matron has always said no. She doesn’t think alcohol should be encouraged, especially on a regular basis. I thought you’d be happy with a couple of extras.’
It was a bit late now if they weren’t. But the thought that Matron hadn’t allowed them to have the wine group they’d wanted meant they were very welcome. As far as Olive was concerned, no one should be deprived of their pleasures in life just because they didn’t fit with Matron’s vision. ‘I just hope they don’t mind switching their loyalties to gin.’
When the second meeting of The Gin Shack Club was in full flow, it seemed the number of members had doubled from last week, with near enough forty people huddled round the row of beach huts. They were mostly people Olive recognised, but there were several she didn’t. It was turning out to be far more popular than she’d ever thought. When she had first proposed it, she’d imagined being huddled round the heater with Skylar and Veronica for company. She’d hoped some of her other beach-hut neighbours would come along for that first meeting, but that it would only be Esme who came along regularly.
Instead of it being just the few friends she’d thought would turn up, they all had, and with them they’d brought friends, and their friends had brought friends. It was rather overwhelming to see the number of people gathered. It had all got a little out of hand without Olive meaning it to.
Fortunately, they were more organised this week. They’d managed to gather more glasses, purchased extra supplies of gin (good job, as it turned out), and the Salter boys gave up their usual game of cricket to help deliver drinks. Everything ran smoothly and, as Olive was more relaxed this week, she enjoyed the evening even more. The pink grapefruit gin went down really well and Veronica’s choice of an extra dry gin she’d not tried before was a refreshing change. She was so used to the bespoke gins she enjoyed, she’d forgotten how divine the uncomplicated version was. Not that this was superb enough to put her off her search to find the perfect combination. That was the golden chalice, and she was sure the day she was one hundred per cent certain she’d reached that goal would be the day she died. It was a bit of a morbid thought, but having had a career that was primarily about assisting people in their final days, if there was one thing she’d learned, it was that everyone was holding on for something.
Maybe that was why she liked to try so many new gins and different combinations. Somehow, if the quest was endless, she would be able to carry on for ever. It was quite the delight that gin had taken off and was becoming trendier of late. It meant there were new distilleries popping up and the existing ones were adding new flavours to their ranges. It was a good time to be a gin lover. Hopefully, she would get to be one for many years to come.
It was the sound of sirens that shook her from her reverie. It was a good job really, seeing as she was being rather maudlin, a mood she didn’t ever like to find herself in. But the sirens didn’t do anything to deflect from that. Whenever she heard them she would worry about where they were headed. She would consider the poor soul they were on their way to and what had occurred for them to need attention. She hoped it was no one at Oakley West. As they were all in the latter years of their lives, it wouldn’t be so surprising if one of them were taken ill. She knew herself how suddenly a change in health could occur.
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br /> When the sirens became more distant, Olive breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t for anyone nearby. It was odd she still had that instinctive fear within her on hearing that noise. What had happened to her family was so long ago, yet it only took one sound to bring those memories back to the forefront of her mind.
Ridding herself of those thoughts, Olive got back to the task in hand. For the final combination of the evening, she was adding the violet syrup to the extra-dry gin to create the Parma violet gins they’d enjoyed when they’d first decided to start this club. It was a little on the sweet side, but then, in the same way, most meals ended with a dessert, it would round off the evening’s tastings nicely.
‘Who’s in charge here then?’
The voice, with its gruffness and Thanet twang, made Olive immediately pay attention. She’d never been able to tell the difference between an ambulance and a police car. A blue light was a blue light. And on this occasion it looked like, rather than needing an ambulance, someone was due a run-in with the law. And it looked like it might be her.
‘That would be me.’ Olive was happy to volunteer herself.
‘And me,’ Randy said.
‘And me,’ Veronica added.
Idiots. If there was a problem, Olive didn’t want them getting in trouble. They should have just kept quiet.
‘Could you come over here and have a chat with us, please?’ The gruffness in the officer’s voice was an octave less and he exchanged a look with his colleague Olive didn’t quite catch, though she was pretty sure it was one of disbelief. They’d obviously been expecting to find a bunch of yobs, not a civilised soiree of people in the “old enough to be their grandparents” catchment.
‘We’ve had reports of a disturbance. Can you tell us what’s going on?’
‘Just me and my friends having a drink.’ Olive knew she shouldn’t, but she might just have to play the sweet old lady card. ‘We’ve only been chatting. I didn’t think we were being loud at all.’
The Gin Shack on the Beach Page 10