The Gin Shack on the Beach

by Catherine Miller

  There weren’t any properties close by, they were all the other side of the Esplanade. There was at least one hundred metres between them and the cliff face and it was very unlikely the pleasant level of hubbub had reached that far. So, it couldn’t have been any of the local properties that had complained.

  The only people about at this time of night tended to be walking their dogs. No one had passed them along the promenade that she’d seen, although she had spent portions of the evening preparing drinks with Tony’s help. It was possible someone had passed by then, or that the noise had drifted up to the clifftop path that wound along the grass bank above. Either way, she didn’t think they were making enough of a racket to justify a complaint to the police.

  ‘Seems like a party to me,’ the other officer said. ‘You sure you haven’t been playing music and just switched it off when you ‘eard us coming?’

  ‘I thought you were an ambulance and there hasn’t been any music playing. We’re just discussing what gins we like best.’ They weren’t doing anything wrong. Olive was sure of that. There just happened to be more people here than expected.

  ‘You can’t arrest us for having a drink with a few friends, surely?’ Veronica said.

  Olive glared at her friend. Telling the police what they couldn’t do didn’t strike her as the smartest move.

  ‘Hmmmmm…’ The first officer tried to sum them up with an up-down glance at all three of them. ‘We were told there was some illegal organised activity going on. Something about a club?’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  Randy sounded as shocked as Olive felt. If they knew about the club it meant that, within their network of friends of friends, someone had decided to inform the police.

  It seemed totally implausible, when The Gin Shack Club was in its infancy, that someone would have taken such strong offence. What harm were they possibly doing?

  ‘We can’t reveal our sources, but we have to check these issues out when they’re reported.’

  It must have been a quiet period for them. Olive was certain not every constabulary followed up on reports of little old ladies having a civilised drink together. If anything fractionally more exciting came over the radio they’d be off in a jiffy.

  ‘It’s a shame people waste your time like that. I’m sure you’ve got more exciting things to do.’ Was it too much to hope that they’d leave them to get on with their evening in peace?

  ‘Finding out what’s going on here is my only concern at the moment.’

  No such luck.

  ‘We’re just friends having a drink. We’ll all be heading home soon.’ Olive gave her best “I’m-an-innocent-OAP” look, mostly because it was true. And she needed him to believe it because The Gin Shack Club was about to be dispersed and would be ending before it had ever really got started.

  ‘Okay, well, I’m making a note of this and if I get any more reports of problems, I’ll be wanting to speak to you immediately.’

  Phew. Olive relaxed as he wrote something in his notepad. Hopefully this was the end of it. Although she was left with a disturbing sense of unease that someone would be so cruel as to report them. That seemed incredibly uncharitable and not something she thought anyone who knew about The Gin Shack Club would be capable of. Although, as the numbers of guests was proving, it was impossible to keep a secret a secret.

  ‘Hang on,’ the second officer said. ‘What’s that on the table?’

  Stopping his note-taking, the officer she was speaking to became very interested in what his colleague was pointing to.

  Over on the table was the kitty tin holding everybody’s five-pound-note contributions to the costs.

  ‘What’s this then?’ The first officer pointed his pen towards the tin, like it was evidence that couldn’t be contaminated by being touched.

  ‘Money,’ Randy said.

  ‘I can see that. What’s it for?’

  ‘It’s to cover costs,’ Veronica said. She definitely had a gift for putting her foot in it.

  ‘Are you selling alcohol?’

  ‘We’re not selling anything.’ Olive was quick to defend herself, but with near on two hundred pounds in the tin it certainly looked that way.

  ‘Have you taken money from everyone here in exchange for their drinks?’

  ‘Not in exchange for.’ Well, not exactly, but Olive wasn’t sure how to explain when she sensed there was no way of getting out of trouble. ‘It’s a club fee. We’ve started The Gin Shack Club, but we’re OAPs so we can’t afford to treat everyone to their drinks. So everyone just puts a fiver in the pot to cover the costs of the alcohol. That’s all. We’re not doing it to make any profit. This is the first week we’ve ever collected any money.’ She’d decided honesty was the best policy and tried to explain it to the police officer as best she could. If they were doing something wrong, she genuinely had no idea.

  ‘Do you have a licence to sell alcohol?’

  ‘Of course not. What would I need one of those for?’

  ‘Because you’re selling alcohol.’

  ‘But we’re not. I just told you. We’re not selling it like we’re some kind of bar. That’s just the fee to help cover the costs of the club.’

  ‘Time to go home, folks.’ The second officer started to do some crowd control, like this rowdy bunch were going to kick off at any moment. Instead, they very politely made their way off, apart from Olive’s closest beach-hut friends who stayed on to make sure she wasn’t in any bother. She was glad to see Melanie and the two other residents had made their escape. She didn’t want them getting in trouble as well.

  ‘Olive is being genuine,’ Tony said. ‘It was my idea to make sure costs were covered so she didn’t end up out of pocket. I didn’t know there was anything wrong with doing that.’

  ‘We also had no idea so many would turn up,’ Esme said. ‘It was only meant to be a low-key thing, but everyone loved the idea and wanted to join in. And that’s my fault for chirping on about it rather too much. That was nothing to do with Olive.’

  The first officer took a deep breath, clearly deciding what to do about the situation. ‘Time to shut this down, I’m afraid. You can’t be selling gin from your beach hut, however innocent you thought it was.’

  The next few minutes were spent clearing everything away with the two police officers watching over them like stern headmasters. Olive was very tempted to say something about the two young men offering to help, but she was already in enough trouble without aggravating them. If their mothers hadn’t installed good manners into them, it was too late to start now. At least, despite Richard’s many quirks, he had turned out polite. A trait far more admirable than many others, in her humble opinion.

  It was Tony and his boys that did most of the work. They were polite boys. They would do very well in life.

  ‘Right, time to take all of your details for our records.’

  Olive wasn’t sure if that meant they were being charged. Whatever it was, she wasn’t in the mood to argue. She gave her name, date of birth and address when he asked. Next up was Veronica who also complied.

  ‘And you, sir?’

  ‘I really don’t see why you need our details if you’re not arresting us.’

  Olive didn’t have a clue whether they were or not, so at least one of them had more of a grasp on what was happening.

  ‘Look, sir, in light of the fact you seem to have been naïve about your crime, I’m choosing to be lenient on this occasion. However, as you have now been made aware you’re breaking the law, I’m going to make a note on our system, so if this were to happen again in the future, we’d be aware you knew full well you shouldn’t be doing it, but went ahead and did it anyway.’

  ‘Just tell him.’ Olive really didn’t want to cause any more trouble. If they were happy with them, hopefully they’d let them get on their way and that would be the end of this sorry situation.

  Reluctantly, Randy gave the same details the officer had
requested from Veronica and Olive. ‘Is that everything?’ Randy was obviously hoping their telling off was finally over.

  ‘So, you all live at the same retirement home then?’

  Olive wanted to despair. What a regular detective. No wonder this was as exciting as it got for them. There were probably cases running under their noses that went unnoticed. Of course they lived in the same home, given they’d all provided the same address.

  ‘Yeeessss,’ Veronica said, not hiding the sarcastic tone in her voice particularly well.

  ‘Do they know you’re here?’

  Suddenly, getting back without anyone knowing what had happened tonight was beginning to look more unlikely.

  ‘Our activities coordinator does,’ Randy said.

  Olive smirked at his quick thinking. Maybe there was hope for them yet.

  ‘Well, let’s get you back to where you belong. We’d better make sure you return to your home safely.’

  ‘Thanks for all your help, folks.’ The second officer was doing his dismissing-the-crowd act again.

  As they wandered up the slope towards the Esplanade, the three of them hung their heads as if they had been arrested and didn’t want anyone to see them. Olive knew their heads were heavy for the same reason she didn’t want to look up. It wasn’t because she was ashamed. It was because she was disappointed. This journey signified the end. Unless, by some miracle, Matron didn’t hear that as well as breaking out, they’d also been breaking the law. But this was unlikely.

  ‘Into the squad car with you. The gentleman can sit in the middle.’ The second officer was talking to them like they were toerags he was taking back to their parents for a good ticking off.

  ‘It’s only over there. We’re fine to walk.’ Olive pointed to the imposing building with its hexagonal corners. It was only a few hundred metres away.

  ‘Into the squad car,’ he repeated. ‘Don’t be thinking we’re done with making sure you’ve got the message.’

  Olive wondered if their body language was giving off signals that they weren’t going to comply. The police officers had probably gone on a course analysing these kinds of things and considered the three of them at risk of going on a runner, then causing unashamed, gin-guzzling chaos across the villages and towns beyond. It didn’t seem such a bad idea, come to think of it. She didn’t generally drink to get drunk on any level, but if The Gin Shack Club was over, drowning their sorrows might make them feel better about the whole sorry affair.

  It was rather undignified to be getting into the police car with its glary blue and yellow stickers, especially when they were perfectly capable of walking. They weren’t dithery old fools who’d got lost. They weren’t even drunk, having had only a very respectable amount of alcohol. But they had been unknowingly participating in criminal activity and maybe Olive needed to take it as a badge of honour that she was finally in trouble with the law. It would have been hugely disappointing to have lived an entire life without getting in trouble with the police at least once.

  When they were all stuffed in the back like hardened criminals, they were driven along the Esplanade the pathetic distance until they were parked directly outside of Oakley West in direct view of the dining room where the cabaret entertainment was being hosted. That kind of ruined any chance of their run-in with the police going unnoticed.

  As she waited to be let out, Olive was disappointed that the journey had been so short. She wanted them to do a tour of the area like they did with wedding cars. If she was going to be bunged in a squad car, she at least wanted to be paraded round the neighbourhood. Instead, the two-minute trip (if it was that) was over and their humiliation continued.

  The two officers were very strait-laced about the whole ordeal and seemed to be making a performance of it, making them all stand on the kerbside while they were individually unpacked from the car. It was like they wanted to shame them into being the criminals they were. Olive thought it all rather unnecessary so started to head inside. There was no hiding from what had happened with other residents gawping through the window.

  Unfortunately, Olive’s attempt to get away from their stares drove her straight into the path of Matron, who was running out to see what was going on. It was the first time she’d seen Matron out of her dark-navy tunic top. She was wearing a floral top with her hair down and it made her look altogether more feminine. She was identifiable as a human and less of a robot. It was weird that some of the staff lived at Oakley West, but some of their duties required them to be on hand. It would seem this was one of those occasions.

  ‘What’s been going on?’ Before Olive was able to get any further inside, Matron blocked her path. ‘I should have known you were involved.’

  Olive, who wasn’t prone to crying, found the only thing she wanted to do was go to her room and have a sob. This was so far from what she’d hoped for when starting The Gin Shack Club. What was supposed to be a chance to catch up with friends had escalated into something much more quickly than she was able to keep up with.

  ‘Are you the person responsible for these people?’ the first officer asked.

  ‘For my sins,’ Matron said.

  Olive noticed the fluttering of her eyelashes. Maybe she flirted with all men. Like that inbuilt response she’d noticed some were born with. Maybe her son was safe after all if that was the case.

  ‘Do you know anything about The Gin Shack Club?’ the second officer asked. It was like they were switching the question to play an awful version of good cop, bad cop.

  ‘No. Should I?’ Flutter. Flutter.

  ‘These individuals have been caught having a party by the beach huts and they were charging for the pleasure of joining in with their gin drinking. As I’m sure you realise, the sale of alcohol without a licence is prohibited.’

  Matron’s fluttering soon stopped. The officers were immune to any charm she might possess and she’d obviously realised it was more serious than she’d imagined.

  ‘I didn’t even know they’d left the property, officers. They hadn’t signed out as they should and we obviously advise our residents not to go out of an evening, especially if we don’t know where they’re going. I apologise that this has happened.’

  ‘We’ve taken their details and explained that if anything like this happens again, next time we’ll be taking action.’

  ‘Certainly, officers. I should hope they’ve learned their lesson and we’ll be keeping closer tabs on them from now on.’

  Olive thought what Matron would really love was the ankle tags sometimes used for law breakers. That way she would be able to monitor all their movements and have them back in Oakley West at their curfew times without fail. It was no wonder they’d gone rogue to try and give themselves something outside of the retirement quarters.

  ‘Understand, ladies and gent? No more Gin Shack Club meetings.’

  ‘And no more leaving Oakley without telling me,’ Matron added.

  With their tails well and truly between their legs, the three residents were marched back inside by Matron. For the first time ever, all of the lobby chairs were full with residents wanting to catch a glimpse of some fellow inmates being returned by police car. It must have been quite a disappointment that most of the action had happened outside.

  The police car was now gone from view and, with Matron putting a final flea in their ears, they were all sent packing to their rooms.

  Olive had never been happier to make it to the small generic space she now had to call home. She welcomed the opportunity to be alone and give in to the emotion that had been building up in her.

  What a silly fool she had been to think her idea might work. What had seemed like a brilliant idea had quickly evaporated into a farce. But the thing that hurt most was the fact that someone had reported them. That their little bit of fun (and that’s all it was) had been taken away because someone had found it within themselves to complain to the police. What a spiteful world it was that someone would do that. Sh
e hated to think that such petty individuals existed and that the impact of their actions meant The Gin Shack Club would be no more.

  Not usually one to admit defeat, today Olive wanted nothing more than to go to bed and be cushioned by her snug duvet with no plans to ever move again.

  Normally she would have drawn up a battle plan. Normally she would have found a way to make it work. But it all seemed beyond her. Because what was the point if, when trying to do a nice thing, someone else had gone and stabbed her in the back? It didn’t make sense. And if the world didn’t make sense, she didn’t want to be a part of it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Olive was summoned to meet Matron in her office the following day, she refused to go. Moving into the retirement quarters hadn’t stopped her from being her own person. She was still perfectly able to make decisions and it was up to her if she wanted to get herself into trouble. She certainly wasn’t going to be ordered to the office like a pupil at school. She was way past the stage of life where she gave a shit what others thought of her, and whatever Matron had to say would fall on deaf ears because she didn’t want to hear it.

  Fortunately, Matron was as stubborn as she was and wasn’t about to visit Olive’s room to try and bring the standoff to some kind of resolution.

  For the first twenty-four hours that was a blessing, but then, of course, rather predictably, she brought in the big guns.

  The whole idea of Olive living at Oakley West was so Richard didn’t have to be involved with her care. Clearly that was going well.

  Even the solid knock at the door hinted at disapproval and Olive could tell it was Richard.

  ‘Come in,’ Olive said. It wasn’t that she was refusing visitors, she was just refusing to leave the room, especially if it was Matron requesting she left.

  Olive braced herself for a lecture. She was so used to being told what she should and shouldn’t do. Mostly in response to her misdemeanours, none of which had previously involved the police. So this was bound to be the telling off of a lifetime.