The Gin Shack on the Beach

by Catherine Miller

  ‘It’s flavoured water. It’s supposed to be good for your health. Tony brought it in the hope it would make me feel better.’ Despite having been mostly in bed for just over a week, there was nothing wrong with Olive’s legs and they wanted to march across the room and snatch the gin out of Matron’s clutches.

  Matron laughed. Although to be fair it was more of an evil cackle. ‘Flavoured water. You must think I was born yesterday.’

  Olive said nothing. It was none of Matron’s business what she was drinking. Well, it might have been when she’d escaped the retirement quarters and got in trouble with the police, but the rest of the time, and especially in the comfort of her own room, it was not her concern.

  ‘I’m not sure your son would approve of this. He told me he’s not keen on alcohol consumption. I think I’ll take this and speak with him, particularly as you’ve been known to attempt to trade alcohol illegally.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. Neither of you should get a say in what I drink. What on earth am I going to do with it to cause any concern?’ Olive regretted the question as soon as she posed it.

  Of course, Matron jumped on it without hesitation. ‘Sell shots to our residents illegally, perhaps?’

  ‘It’s for my own personal use.’ Randy and Veronica would get to try it as well, but Olive wasn’t about to voice that in a hurry and she certainly wouldn’t be charging them.

  ‘Even so. We can’t guarantee that you won’t misbehave, especially given your form. I’ll have to take it for now. I’ll see what your son says on the matter and we can go from there.’

  Olive dropped her food-laden fork onto the plate before she was tempted to lob it at Matron’s head. ‘Pardon? I’m not some criminal. I am not an in-house mobster trying to make a quick buck.’ She’d never heard anything so ludicrous in her life. The thought that being in retirement quarters should mean everything in her life was controlled to the nth degree was enough to make her see red. Fair enough, her evening tipple wasn’t worth getting in trouble with the police for, but to not have the freedom to pour a drink because Matron thought she was some criminal mastermind was beyond the realms of what was plausible. It was ridiculous to be treated in this way.

  ‘I never said you were, but this is the only way I can safeguard the wellbeing of all my residents, including you. I’ll lock it away until I’ve spoken to your son.’ Matron shone with as much brightness as the snowflake design on the bottle as she removed the item with glee.

  It really was fortunate the fork was no longer in Olive’s hand, although the chances of her flinging the utensil well enough to inflict any kind of injury was slim, and she didn’t really want to end up in a cell, even if Matron’s attitude was making her have murderous thoughts.

  What right did the woman have to take items of her property? Or to try and control her life more than living here already did? Losing the beach hut had been enough to ground her. For a little while she might have lost herself, but there was no way Olive was going to continue existing with these kinds of sanctions being held over her. There was no way she was going to allow her life to be governed by an overbearing woman whose interference was stepping over the mark. Somehow, she was going to stand up for herself. She just needed to work out how.

  Chapter Seventeen

  There was something wholly disheartening about remaining in one place for any length of time. It was Tony who was Olive’s salvation and suggested they go out for a walk. Up until the gin confiscation, she’d not wanted to, but the audacity of it proved she needed to not take it lying down, and she’d not been doing much else.

  ‘Where do you want to head?’ Tony had today’s newspaper under his arm and it was nice to be outside for a change. Olive had missed the fresh air and salty sea scent.

  ‘It feels so strange to not be going to my beach hut.’

  ‘We can head to mine?’ Tony offered.

  ‘It won’t be the same. It will be odd seeing my hut on the end of the row without being able to use it.’ They’d probably renovated it and ripped all her things out, knowing how heartless Matron and her son were being. It was upsetting even thinking about it. It was hard to explain to anyone why Richard could be the way he was without going into details of a past she didn’t wish to share. Even Richard didn’t know the full story. It was her responsibility to keep that a secret. And there were days when that was a hard cross to bear, but it wouldn’t resolve anything. Talking about it wouldn’t change what had happened, however much she wished it would. All of a sudden she knew exactly where they should walk to. It wasn’t often she wanted to go there, but today it was a fitting place to visit. ‘Let’s go to the sunken gardens.’

  The gardens were quite the feature along the Esplanade. Set on the green was a square of bushes that, once you were through one of the entrances, led to a hidden garden sunk into the cliff. It was a curious spot and one her husband had always loved, so much so it was here she’d chosen to have his memorial bench placed. It was part of the reason Olive didn’t come here very often. This was her husband’s place and with it always came the flood of memories made fresh all over again. But today she wanted somewhere to hide away from the world and put her inner turmoil to rest. What had happened in the past shouldn’t affect the here and now. ‘Matron confiscated the gin you kindly delivered.’

  ‘What? Surely she can’t do that?’

  Olive was pleased to hear Tony sounded as horrified as she had been.

  ‘She has it in her head that I’m going to try and sell shots to all the residents or something ridiculous like that.’

  ‘More like she can neck it herself. I do hope I bump into that nameless busybody soon. What kind of person makes everyone refer to them as Matron? So, are you gonna break into her office and claim it back?’

  Olive did want the bottle back, but that alone wouldn’t quell the unease that had settled within her. ‘We need to find a way to restart The Gin Shack Club. I’m just not sure how now I don’t have access to anywhere to host it.’ The beach hut, her long-term sanctuary, now represented how cruel her son could be. It was wrong of him to have changed the locks without even inviting her to come and get her property. It seemed the takeover by Oakley West was so complete they got to keep her stuff as well. And she’d not had the energy to enquire what had happened to the remaining drink. At some point, when she was feeling feistier, she would demand to have the items she wanted returned, including the ottoman. For now, she didn’t want to think about it any more than necessary. The only thing she wanted to think about at the moment was positive steps forward.

  ‘Thank. Bloody. Christ.’ Tony’s face lit up as they reached the garden entrance. ‘That means Olive is back.’

  They arrived at Olive’s husband’s memorial bench and she took a seat. She all too often avoided sitting here, but today she wanted the strength and clarity her husband used to provide. And although he wasn’t here, the fact this used to be his thinking space made her feel like it might improve her own ideas.

  ‘I just don’t know how. Any suggestions?’ Whatever determination Olive had lost was returning with gumption. Just because they’d been foolish enough not to realise what they’d been doing was effectively illegal, it didn’t mean it should affect her liberties. There had to be a way for The Gin Shack Club to continue. She just didn’t know how.

  ‘There are a lot of people who feel exactly the same way about The Gin Shack Club, myself included. It might not have been going for very long, but there was a massive amount of enthusiasm for it. I’m certain, if we all have a think, the solution will present itself. Shall we browse the newspaper for inspiration?’

  As there were no solutions eagerly presenting themselves, any distraction was welcome. If they couldn’t solve the problem of how to restart The Gin Shack Club, perhaps today would be the day they found Tony a new job.

  Tony flicked the paper open to the vacancy pages. ‘Slim pickings again, I’m afraid. I think I need to be a bit more inventive with my jo
b search. I’m thinking of starting my own business. The redundancy package was generous enough that I should be able to consider a project.’

  ‘Opportunities like that are important. Make sure you take advantage of it. What would you do?’ Her own career had evolved from having realised she wanted to give something back. End of life care wasn’t for everyone, but there was something fulfilling about being there for someone in their hardest moments. It had taught her a lot about herself and one thing she knew for certain was that, while she might have helped lots of people at the end of their life, she certainly wasn’t at the end of hers. Tony starting something afresh was the kind of thing he should embrace. She certainly would have done some more adventurous things given her time all over again.

  ‘Something completely different. Something like this.’ Tony rustled the paper and smoothed it out so she could see the article he was referring to.

  Olive glanced over at the headline of the article: THE GEORGE ARMS LATEST TO JOIN CLOSURES. ‘That’s where Randy goes for a drink. Or at least it was.’ She recalled her recent visit there when they’d come to her rescue, letting Veronica and her use the phone, and provided a rather substandard breakfast. ‘Is the hotel part closing as well? Are you going to run the hotel?’

  ‘We should walk around that way and I can tell you my ideas. Esme and I have been talking and it would be a bit of a family affair.’

  Olive had always liked the idea of running a B&B and the Salters were so lovely they’d be the perfect welcoming family. Before they headed off (because that would mean Olive’s escape was already over), they completed the crossword as always.

  When the bench had made their bottoms suitably numb, Olive and Tony headed towards the coastal path to walk the long way back. Olive was missing the beach and the sense of freedom it provided. There was a reason she loved coming here. Not in the dotty old lady way her son seemed to think, but because it was here she felt most like herself. It was hard to explain how a place was able to make her feel at ease. It struck Olive that perhaps Richard had never found that kind of harmony. Perhaps that was why he threw all his enthusiasm into his work. Perhaps one day she would learn to understand her son.

  It was nice to walk in contemplative silence with Tony. To not only feel at ease with her surroundings, but also the company she was keeping.

  When they finally crossed the Royal Esplanade to follow the path back to Oakley West, her heart dropped to her shoes. She didn’t want to return. It was the first time in her life she’d felt uncomfortable about where she was living. The early concerns she’d had about moving to the retirement quarters were soon put aside when she’d found friends and the communal living to be quite agreeable. It was only now, weeks later, that she was beginning to understand her life wasn’t her own. She couldn’t come and go as she pleased. She was subject to inspections of her room and property had been confiscated. It was like being at a boarding school and all at once she was homesick. But she wasn’t missing the home she’d come from. It was the beach hut she was pining for.

  ‘Are you okay, Olive?’ Tony asked.

  Her hesitation at returning must have been evident for Tony to pick up on the change in her mood. ‘I don’t think I want to carry on living here.’ And while it was all very well saying it out loud, that didn’t change the fact Olive had nowhere else to go.

  ‘Oh, Olive.’ Tony stopped and gave her a hug. ‘Let me talk to your son. You can’t let that woman make you feel bullied. You need to be happy in your own environment.’

  Olive just let herself be hugged. Hugs were so rare in her life, she had to appreciate them when they did come along. She couldn’t remember the last time Richard gave her one. ‘If talking to anyone helps, I would appreciate it. It’s not like it can make it any worse.’ Okay, so there were worse situations, but she liked to think being treated like a prisoner when she’d done nothing wrong was pretty high on the scale of pants things that had happened in her lifetime.

  ‘I’ll come and talk to him when he’s next here. Will it be this weekend?’

  ‘It probably will be after the problems I’ve been causing. I’ll double-check.’

  ‘Let’s go and see The George Arms and I’ll tell you about the business I’m planning. Hopefully that will cheer you up and take your mind off things.’

  Listening to what Tony had planned would be a delight. Maybe she could become a permanent resident at their B&B. Somehow the act of not heading back right away, even though it didn’t change matters, made the whole situation seem more bearable. She still had her friends at Oakley West. One stolen bottle of gin shouldn’t make her feel like she was being persecuted in her own home. She needed to focus on happier things. Like reinstating The Gin Shack Club.

  Olive stopped in her tracks.

  Outside The George Arms was a crowd of people.

  Each of them a familiar face: the Salter family, Skylar… her entire beach-hut family was here.

  ‘But… what?’ Olive looked to Tony for an explanation.

  Tony grinned in a way that showed he’d played his cards particularly well. He knew exactly what was going on. ‘I can’t believe you haven’t put two and two together yet. You see, I couldn’t go ahead with my business plan without the permission of the person who thought the idea up. Come over here. That might help the penny drop.’ He took her arm and guided her over to where everyone was standing.

  The Salter twins were holding up a banner. It was on an old sheet and was the kind of thing normally strewn on roundabouts declaring significant birthdays. Olive read it and it was more a case of the pound dropping, let alone the penny. ‘The Gin Shack. Of course.’ Why else would he be seeking her permission? But this was far bigger and more monumental than anything she’d ever considered.

  ‘Do you approve? Would you be happy for us to turn The Gin Shack into an actual place?’

  Staring at the dirt-covered, whitewashed walls of the pub, and the peeling paint of the windowsills, it was clear it was going to be a lot of work. Olive reached out and flicked a curl of peeling paint off the wall. ‘I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for, but of course I bloody approve. This is amazing news.’

  ‘We’ve been putting our heads together ever since the club was stopped. It was Esme who saw this was up for lease and suggested it as a solution. Everyone is going to pitch in to redecorate and get it ready. But we needed all the founding members of The Gin Shack to approve.’

  It was only then that Olive spotted that Veronica and Randy had joined them. Everyone was in on the surprise and it took some effort to not start blubbing tears of joy.

  ‘Now you can see why I was so glad you had your fighting spirit back. We’ll need it if we’re going to pull this off. There’s lots of work to be done and it wouldn’t be the same without our Olive masterminding the action.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Olive blinked away the tears that had formed despite her determination not to give way to them. When she’d been at her lowest her friends had been there for her, but more than that they’d imagined the most brilliant way of re-establishing The Gin Shack Club. It was beyond her wildest dreams. The club would live again and this time it was open to all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  There was something entirely satisfying about The Gin Shack meeting taken place in the heart of Oakley West. Knowing there was so much to be done at the pub, Tony was enlisting volunteers and, because so many were interested, it had been relatively easy to organise.

  The only problem was finding a venue big enough for them all to fit into. Beach huts were good as a base for lots of things, but a meeting with more than two people in attendance would be a challenge. In the end it was Randy who came up with the idea. They booked Oakley West’s activity room for the morning under the guise that Tony was teaching IT skills for beginners to any residents of the home who wanted to learn, and that, as he was volunteering, it was also open to local residents. Melanie was onside with everything that was going on, so was o
nly too happy to help by adding them to the timetable and stating the class was full.

  The take-up was astonishing considering the course hadn’t even been advertised. So, with a few props to back up the notion in case anyone passed the room, hopefully it wouldn’t be questioned.

  As “lecturer”, Tony took his place at the head of the classroom. All of Olive’s beach-hut neighbours were there, bar the children and the dog, plus a few from the huts further along. Randy, Veronica, the dejected wine club of Oakley plus several members of staff were also in attendance. It was a surprise to see so many wanting to know about the future of The Gin Shack Club.

  ‘Are we ready?’ Tony asked, glancing over at the trio of Olive, Veronica and Randy to see if they were happy.

  Olive nodded with no real idea if they were. She hadn’t been expecting half these people to turn up, so she just hoped it was a good sign. Hopefully many more would follow.

  ‘Before we start, even though I’m the one doing all the talking, I’d like to point out this is all the brainchild of Olive. The Gin Shack Club was her idea from the outset and, as most of you will know, it was almost stopped in its fledgling stages. We did think it was over, but that was before we came up with an even bigger and better idea.’ Tony surveyed the room, making sure everyone was paying attention.

  It was obvious Tony was in his element and Olive knew he would be a perfect landlord: welcoming, organised and reasonable. She could list an endless number of qualities that would serve him well. It was a shame he was already married and about thirty years too young for her.

  ‘As we have found to our detriment, it isn’t possible to run the club as we previously did, and to be honest, the scale of interest far exceeded our expectations. We outgrew the beach hut right from the off, and so it left me wondering whether there was enough interest for it to be more than just a weekly club. So…’ Tony glanced round the room again, building up the tension with a silent drumbeat. ‘We’re taking over The George Arms and turning it into The Gin Shack.’