The Gin Shack on the Beach

by Catherine Miller

  There were murmurs around the room, mostly of excitement if Olive was judging the tone right.

  ‘Who’s going to run it?’ someone asked.

  ‘When do you open?’

  The room came alive with questions and received a reaction like no IT class ever realistically could.

  ‘Now, these are all questions I hope to answer, and the reason we’re holding this meeting is because, if we’re ever going to pull this off, we need to do it together. There’s a lot to do and plan, but if you all love the idea of Olive’s Gin Shack Club as much as I do, then hopefully we can make it happen.’

  ‘I keep having dreams about that Parma violet gin,’ said Mavis, one of the failed wine club members. ‘We’ll do whatever we can to help.’

  The whole room nodded in agreement, including the staff members.

  ‘Excellent.’ It was delightful to see Tony’s excitement and to know that what would have only ever been an idea in Olive’s head was actually being turned into a solid plan. One that might take off with Tony’s enthusiasm. ‘It’s great news, but in order for this to be the success we’re hoping it will be, there’s lots of work to be done. The format for The Gin Shack Club will work like this. Every week there will be a new menu. There will be two bespoke gins on offer, and a cocktail drink containing at least one of those gins. There will be a selection of soft drinks and snacks available, but we want to be known for our gins. We want the specialist selection we’re providing to have people wanting to come back every week to try out our latest menu. For local residents and any regulars there will be a club membership available with discounts and offers.’

  Tony paused for a moment. He held everyone’s attention with ease, some of them practically drooling over the idea. ‘Olive, Randy and Veronica are going to be in charge of sourcing and selecting the gins. Olive is our resident expert and gin connoisseur and she’ll head up that side of things. The Gin Shack is her club, after all. But I’ll need the rest of you to help with everything else and, first and foremost, the bar is in desperate need of a makeover. Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen I’m not, but even I can spot when something is outdated. I need as many volunteers as possible who are able to use a paintbrush or have any ideas on improving things on a shoestring, and I’m hoping some of you have some design flare. So, hands up if you have any useful skills and are willing to use them.’

  There was a surprising swell of hands rising like a Mexican wave. Everyone in the room offered to do something. From being able to reupholster bar stools to willingness to clean, it seemed there was no life skill not covered by this room of people.

  Tony scribbled the entire plan down on a large A6 pad at the front of the class.

  Skylar – Interiors/textiles

  Paul – Painting/fixtures and fittings

  Mark – Handyman – happy to help wherever

  Everyone was on the list with the activities they’d volunteered for written next to their name.

  When all the tasks were assigned and they all had a plan to leave the room with, Tony asked if there were any final questions.

  ‘What about the hotel? Will that be open?’ Mark asked.

  ‘Not for the moment. Looking at the previous books, that part was losing money. We want to focus just on the bar for now.’

  ‘How are we going to get there without getting into trouble?’ Veronica asked.

  ‘We’re going to dig a tunnel,’ Randy joked, but not many residents laughed, knowing the need for such actions was too close to the truth to be funny.

  ‘We’ll make sure you get to visit once the opening hours have been decided.’ It was Melanie, the activities coordinator, speaking. ‘In fact, I have a feeling we should make it part of the timetable. I’m sure you could host a knitting group there at least once a week.’

  ‘We can host whatever groups you like. As long as what they’re actually doing is drinking gin and picking up paintbrushes. We have to make it a success somehow.’

  ‘Advertising,’ Veronica said. ‘You need to make sure people know about it.’

  ‘Yes, I hadn’t even thought about that. What do you three think we should do?’ Tony asked the trio of friends.

  Olive had hoped for a moment they’d got away with just ordering in the gin. ‘Word of mouth worked well for us before. I never intended for so many people to know. Maybe we should stick to that. Let us have a think and we’ll come up with something.’ She wasn’t too keen on shouting it from the rooftops when there were people she didn’t want knowing about what was going on. As they were planning on calling it The Gin Shack, it wouldn’t take very long for Matron to put two and two together if she got wind of the new bar opening.

  The thought seemed to conjure the woman up almost instantly as she appeared from her office and casually strolled outside the day room. It was very clear she was keeping her beady eye on things.

  Everyone in the room stiffened and Tony instantly went into computer talk, having been given the signal that Matron was on the prowl. She hung around for longer than necessary, making Olive worry she sensed something was up. That perhaps holding the initial meeting here was just plain stupid.

  But The Gin Shack didn’t stop at Olive any more. The enthusiasm for it was on a level she’d never imagined possible. Everyone here was invested in the project. The bar would open no matter what. Today’s meeting had made sure of that.

  Chapter Nineteen

  There were an unprecedented number of outdoor excursions for the Oakley West residents over the following couple of weeks. They were all cleverly planned so that those who needed to slip away could. And their numbers grew. It seemed that, whenever you wished to keep something secret, especially when it was an establishment focused purely on glorious gin, the news spread like wildfire. It was becoming more of a community project and the thirst for a revival of the area was evident in people’s enthusiasm for having something a bit different on offer. Or there was a chance they were just thirsty for gin. Either way, it was promising for business with the bar already heaving like an episode of DIY SOS.

  For the most part, Olive was in charge of planning the bar itself. It was a rather glorious job working out how best to display the drinks on offer. The gin bottle designs were something Olive loved almost as much as the gin itself. It was amazing how the designs – everything from the simplistic to the intricate – were enough to make you want to try the drink without even knowing what it was. And because the graphics were so good these days, they deserved to be shown at their best. Ideally they would have had a mirror panel across the whole wall, but having looked into the cost, it was too much for them to pay out just to make the bottles look fancy. There were some far more essential things they needed to attend to, like the flooring and upholstery, which, not having been changed since the smoking ban, was sporting a yellow tinge and musty odour.

  For once, Olive had a rather inspired idea and suggested perhaps they could use small, vanity-type mirrors so the effect would be the same, but perhaps not quite so blinding. Several were offered, a few were sourced from charity shops and the tip, and a couple were purchased at (shock horror) full price, giving them a nice medley of shapes and sizes. With the help of Randy, she sanded and painted each of them. Some bright pink, some a dove-grey. Randy planned where they would all go across the back of the bar and suggested a shelf at the bottom of each so the week’s gin offerings could be displayed and staggered across the back wall of the bar like an art installation. Olive loved the idea and, once it had been approved by Tony in terms of practicalities, they went ahead and worked on their part of the project.

  Elsewhere there was more going on in the fortnight running up to opening than Olive was able to keep one hundred per cent track of. Tony and his oldest son, TJ, were in the process of getting the premises, personal licences and all the other paperwork sorted so they could legally serve alcohol and open up. It was reassuring to know they could offer a two-finger salute to anyone who might accuse them of criminal activ
ity this time.

  Mark and Paul had taken charge of most of the big tasks. They’d repainted the outside, returning it to the crisp white it was supposed to be. All the doorframes were tended to and repainted a slate-grey to match the pinks and greys dotted throughout the interior with whites and silvers finishing the look off. The colours had been Skylar’s idea and their boldness matched the boldness of what they were planning.

  For several days now, Noah and Aiden had worked tirelessly on the signs for the bar. They were studying art and graphic design at college and had taken the challenge on with such enthusiasm Olive was happy for them to have free rein on what they did. She was absolutely certain it would be in keeping with everyone’s vision for the bar.

  Inside, they were reusing all the tables and chairs that were already there, which meant fixing the wonky ones and removing stains made over several years. Mavis and the other residents from Oakley West were enjoying getting stuck into that task. With some of the tables in such a state, they went for completely refurbishing them by sanding them down, covering them in the same slate-coloured paint they’d used for the doorframes and finishing them off with a bright pink PVC cover to protect the surfaces and make it easier for wiping.

  At first, Olive thought it might look a bit garish, but it was the opposite and was in fact, if an eighty-four-year-old could be permitted to use the word, very trendy. In one slightly lost corner, they created a snug with sofas and low lighting and it was all very hygge. The more that was completed, the more it reminded her of an American-style diner, only with a twist, and it was turning into a place she would happily come and spend her time even if it was just to look at the spectacular mirror-shelf display.

  And at some point when she’d been too busy to notice, all the ugliness of The George Arms vanished completely. The unsightly old lampshades were replaced with sparkling chandeliers and spotlights, including ones for the back bar that made the mirror wall even more stunning. The ceiling and walls had been painted in crisp white and soft greys respectively and now there were pink-and-silver-framed paintings and photos up, all of the local area: West Bay, the sunken gardens, Oakley West back when it was a hotel, The George Arms in its heyday. The black and white images provided an excellent contrast with the modern interior and Olive would have put a bet on its being Skylar who had sourced them.

  Even the bathrooms had been given a much-needed makeover. The toilet and sink units themselves didn’t need replacing, but the tiles were painted with mosaic-style stickers added to them to give the washrooms an uplift. If The Gin Shack was a success, the bathroom could do with a complete refit, but it would do for now. They were making the best of working within a budget and, considering how little they’d spent overall, the place was looking tremendous. It was amazing how many hours had been volunteered and how many donations offered. With Tony’s organisational skills, Olive’s idea to have a weekly sociable gin drink with close friends had turned into something much more and never in her life had she been more excited.

  They were getting close to the point where they would be ready to open The Gin Shack. They were just waiting for the formalities of all the licences to be sorted and then they would be ready to open the doors.

  After a morning of everyone helping with cleaning, vacuuming up sawdust and giving everything a final dust, there was only one thing left to do. Noah and Aiden, who’d put so much work into the signage, had put it all up, including the main banner that announced to the world what this place was. As a nod to all of their hard work, Tony had suggested a grand unveiling and a toast to celebrate the future of The Gin Shack. They’d agreed that, to avoid any trouble with the law, the toast would be non-alcoholic, so it was orange juice all round.

  With everyone who hadn’t been able to help with the cleaning arriving, Olive offered to pour out the drinks. Behind the bar, filling up glass after glass of orange juice, the excitement surged in her stomach. This was really happening. And if this was the number of drinks that needed to be served when it was just for helpers, it boded well for when they had actual customers. They’d still not organised any formal publicity, but if everyone here today brought one extra person with them for opening night, the bar would be comfortably full. Tony and TJ would be rushed off their feet if they were the only staff. They’d have to look at hiring more if necessary, but for now it gave Olive an idea. She rather liked it at this side of the bar. It was a way to get to chat to everyone and keep track of how the evening was going. For now she just hoped she had counted right and poured enough glasses of orange juice.

  Randy was on the other side of the bar. He was never too far from Olive and Veronica these days. He was happily dishing out the drinks to everyone before they headed outside, forming a crowd at the front, ready for the grand unveiling. It wasn’t long before Randy and Olive were able to join the gathering and Tony stood up on one of the outside benches ready to speak to everyone.

  It was humbling to see how many people were here. Olive had had to fill forty-three glasses with orange juice. She hadn’t even realised she knew that many people, let alone so many friends who were willing to help. But then gin was gin. Its lure was stronger than she’d realised.

  ‘Welcome, everyone, to the moment we’ve all been working towards for the past fortnight. First of all, I must give my absolute thanks to all of you. I can’t believe how generous you’ve all been with your time, skills, materials, knowledge and enthusiasm. This would never have happened at such a speed and with such flair without everyone’s help. So, before revealing the new sign, I wanted to raise my glass to thank all of you.’ Tony raised his orange juice with everyone else copying.

  ‘Now I would like to take this opportunity to ask Olive to come forward and play Queen by doing the grand reveal.’

  Tony hadn’t warned Olive he’d be asking her to do this. She’d have to get him back somehow, but she was as intrigued as everyone else to see what the signage looked like. Tony’s twin boys had worked so hard on it and were currently displaying a good mix of pride and anxiety. Passing her glass to Randy, she went over to where the boys were standing, offering her the rope to yank away the blanket that was covering the display.

  With a not-so-gentle tug, Olive pulled the covering away to reveal The Gin Shack sign. It was as glorious as she and everyone else there had imagined and evoked a spontaneous round of applause with the brothers’ relief visible in their embracing and slapping of each other’s backs.

  The words were silver with mirror highlights providing shadows emphasising the letters more, and the boys had created a Charles Mackintosh-inspired design across the top right-hand corner with the shapes of gin bottles woven into the design. It was magnificent and every bit as good as any gin bottle design Olive had ever seen and fallen in love with.

  Olive couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection for the two boys she’d watched grow up. She turned to give them both a hug and a kiss. ‘It’s amazing. Well done, boys.’

  From his position on the bench, Tony continued his speech. ‘I think we can all agree Aiden and Noah have done a great job and as their dad I’m feeling particularly proud. When I saw the design I was so blown away I went ahead and got all the literature we need printed up. There are menu holders so everyone can see what the weekly gin offerings are. I’ve printed out business cards if anyone wants to pass them on and I’ve done some flyers with details of opening night and our opening hours. It’s a lot to ask, given how much everyone has already helped out, but I’m hoping some of you won’t mind taking some leaflets to post around the local area.’

  Mark was the first to put his hand up to volunteer, quickly followed by several others, each stating which roads they were going to cover to make sure they didn’t duplicate. Between them they managed to cover all the roads between the Royal Esplanade and Westbrook Road so the local area would know about the new bar. They could attempt to canvas the whole of Westbrook and the other surrounding towns and villages, but for now even the numbers here toda
y would be adequate.

  Olive and company didn’t volunteer themselves for any leafleting. They were spending enough time away from Oakley West already for Matron to get suspicious. Fortunately, she’d not said anything about all the outdoor activities that were being arranged, despite one of them being listed as kite-surfing. Melanie had explained to Matron that she wanted to take advantage of the good summer weather while they could and if any of the sessions had been questioned she was going to say some of them were only for the residents to observe. Olive could just imagine the kind of health and safety concerns that would be involved if they really were jumping on boards and letting the breeze take them and their aged hips along the coast. To be fair, she’d quite happily give it a go, although she might have to go in for some kind of hip protection if she was going to.

  When the activity group returned to Oakley West, they had to do their best to calm their excited chatter. With just over a week until the planned opening of The Gin Shack, it was hard to contain their excitement, especially when the group of residents in the know had expanded to eleven. It was nice to have found fellow gin enthusiasts and a shame they couldn’t invite all the residents along, but if they all went missing, it would be kind of noticeable. As it was, it already seemed far more risky with their numbers having grown. But even if Matron did find out about The Gin Shack there was nothing she could do about it. All she could do was try and stop them from going there.

  Olive wasn’t sure how they were going to manage to get there on a long-term basis. If they started leaving every evening it might be questioned. For the opening night there was already a plan in place. They were all going on a “theatre trip.” There was an opera on at the local theatre and, as Melanie knew Matron wasn’t a fan, it was one way to make sure she wouldn’t tag along as she often did for musical trips. As it was something they tried to do quarterly, it was an excellent decoy plan. The only problem was the other ten residents who had signed up to the trip and were in for a surprise. They might have to drop them at the theatre and then return to The Gin Shack. That was something they could worry about nearer the time. For now, Olive wanted to concentrate on whether her own idea would be possible. There was only one way to find out. One of her favourite pastimes these days: a good old Google.