The Gin Shack on the Beach

by Catherine Miller

  ‘They’re perfectly safe here, as you can see. I can make sure they all get back to Oakley West without any problems. Now please leave before I have to call the police.’ Tony’s voice was firm and sounded close to getting angry.

  ‘I’ll be the one calling the police. This is practically kidnapping.’

  ‘What happened to the bottle of gin you never returned to Olive? It sounds like it must have been opened if you know the gin on offer tonight is a good one. I think the police would frown upon you taking property from the residents, then drinking it.’

  Olive was glad Tony had picked up on Matron’s gin comment. If they were talking about unacceptable behaviour, abusing her authority would come under that heading. She shouldn’t have taken it in the first place, let alone crack it open to try it.

  ‘Olive’s son wasn’t keen on her keeping alcohol in her room after all the trouble she got into. Where is she, anyway? No doubt she’s involved with all this business. Her son won’t be happy.’

  Curling her legs in a little tighter, Olive hoped, if she made herself small enough, she might disappear. With so many of the Oakley West residents already in trouble, she didn’t want to be added to the line-up.

  A flash bulb went off. Not once, but twice, followed by a third. It was so bright the reflection from the mirror gave Olive a temporary mosaic of square shadows in her vision.

  ‘You. Are. Barred. I’m not standing here discussing it any more. TJ, pass me the phone,’ Tony said.

  The phone was out of TJ’s reach, but he somehow managed to catch a hold of it without making it obvious he was stepping over Randy’s legs in the process.

  ‘Okay. There’s no need for threats. But it’s safe to say if all my absent residents aren’t back within the next half hour I shall be making a phone call of my own.’

  Olive watched as Matron admitted defeat and turned to leave. Another flash went off and for a bar that had been buzzing not so long ago, there was now a deathly silence.

  Only God knew what the customers who didn’t know the history of how The Gin Shack came about thought. There Olive was, worrying about whether people would like the gin, when she never considered the possibility they might worry about the bar staff collapsing onto the floor.

  ‘You can get up now,’ Tony said, leaning over the bar.

  Before they responded the flash bulb made its way over the edge and went off again.

  Olive’s eyesight was left dazzled again.

  ‘Who are you?’ TJ asked the person wielding the camera.

  ‘Rory from the local gazette.’ The response was rather cheery, all things considered.

  Olive got onto her knees and accepted a helpful arm from TJ.

  Randy, who’d managed to get up in his normal spritely way, extended the same gentlemanly gesture to Veronica, and they were no worse off for their ordeal, despite having had to hit the decks for all of ten minutes.

  Rory snapped his bulb again, barely letting them recover from the last photo.

  ‘Don’t take pictures, please. They didn’t just hide for you to go and spoil it,’ Tony said, placing his paw in front of the lens to stop Rory from carrying on.

  ‘Oh, come on. This is the best story I’ve covered all month. You’ll be on the front page if you let me take a few more pictures.’

  ‘We never invited any press. So I’m not sure how you know about our story or how it’s going to end up as front-page material.’

  ‘How could I not know? News about this place has been spreading like wildfire and that’s saying something coming from a journalist. This place has its own hashtag.’

  ‘Its own what?’ Tony asked.

  Even Olive knew what one of those was.

  ‘Get with it, Dad,’ Aiden said, having given up his role of glass collector. ‘You’ve been trending locally for over a week. Everyone wants to come and visit the hashtag ginshack.’

  ‘Did you boys start this?’ Tony said.

  ‘Don’t look at us.’ Aiden put his hands up in defence.

  From the end of the bar, Veronica cleared her throat. ‘It’s a good hashtag.’

  Aiden laughed. ‘I should have known it was one of you lot.’

  Olive had known for a while that Veronica was very tech savvy. It would seem she was very on trend as well. It was no wonder the bar was filled with all age ranges and not just the latter years represented by the Oakley West crowd.

  ‘So how about it? Seeing as I found out about you, any chance you want to tell me how The Gin Shack came about? I wouldn’t be surprised if it makes the nationals. You lot hiding from your care-home manager and you giving her what for was front-page gold. “Gin-deprived care-home residents set up their own bar”.’ Rory did that thing of pasting the headline in the air as if it was on the front page already. ‘Okay, it needs to be a bit catchier, but what a great story. It’s bound to bring in more customers. People would travel down from London to come and try this place.’

  Everyone at the bar and beyond were a bit dazed and confused, like the bulb flashes had frazzled more than their eyesight. Some of the Oakley West residents were already gathering their coats and bags to return home, their prison guard having given her orders.

  ‘I’m not sure. I mean, the publicity would be great, but I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, especially this lot, and I’ve a feeling it would.’

  Olive had hoped she’d manage to keep this from her son. She wouldn’t have thrown herself on the floor otherwise. She knew Richard wouldn’t be happy. The problem was that Matron would know they were involved as soon as she returned and realised they were also on the “opera” visit.

  Knowing Richard would find out she was involved anyway made her worry more about how she and the other Oakley West residents were being treated. It wasn’t on. The Gin Shack would continue as a business whether they liked it or not. But they shouldn’t be able to stop any of the residents from coming here if they wished to. ‘We’ll do an interview,’ Olive blurted out.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Tony said.

  ‘Certain. Now, let’s do it before I change my mind.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was two days later that The Gin Shack became headline news. And, as Rory had suspected, the news didn’t stay local. It went viral and there were online articles popping up here, there and everywhere.

  The twenty-four hours following their interview had been a strange affair. Once the Oakley West trio had finished that night, they’d piled onto the minibus along with all the other residents. They’d all expected to return to some kind of confrontation with Matron, but she was eerily absent and they’d not seen her since.

  It had meant they’d been able to go to The Gin Shack the following evening and help without question. All of the other care workers at Oakley West knew about Olive, Veronica and Randy’s involvement with the bar and none of them were going to stop them going out for the evening, the only caveat being they had to return by eleven.

  It was with relief that the bar was as busy as opening night, with everyone wanting to try the gin selection. Tony would need to hire more staff as the Oakley West trio wouldn’t be able to work behind the bar all the time. It was fortunate that it wouldn’t be too long before his twin boys, Aiden and Noah, would be old enough to work for him and, as it was proving so popular, Esme was also going to start helping out as well. It was really nice that it was going to end up being a family affair. They just had to hope the customer base remained as strong as at the start of their venture.

  The following morning Olive, Veronica and Randy headed to The Gin Shack to meet with the entire Salter family to keep track of everything happening in the news. They gathered in the snug area with Tony reading the article to all of them.

  The local gazette had gone with a much snappier headline than Rory had suggested: “Rebellious OAPs Open Gin Bar”. It went on to detail their story with pretty good accuracy. To be fair to him, the young reporter had done a good job of keeping it
true to what had happened and gave a very favourable review of the bar and how promising it was for the local area. His finishing sentence implored everyone of drinking age to at least visit the bar and, if they were sensible, join the club.

  Tony finished reading the article again, word for word. The story hadn’t only been given the front page, it was also a double-page spread. ‘How fantastic is that? I didn’t even consider inviting the press and we’ve ended up with more advertising than I could ever have dreamed of.’

  ‘It’s up on Huffington Post now, Dad,’ TJ said from his position on the arm of the sofa, scrolling through his phone.

  ‘And the Metro. It’s gone viral,’ Aiden said from the other end.

  ‘What does viral mean? I’m not sure I know unless we’re talking about colds,’ Randy asked.

  Aiden peered up from his phone screen. ‘It means loads and loads of people are sharing the article. Bit like an epidemic – the news is spreading everywhere.’

  ‘Oh, so that’s a good thing, right? Does it mean you’ll end up with even more customers?’

  ‘Hopefully,’ Tony said, his expression as perplexed as Randy’s over what viral was.

  ‘Loads of people are commenting about it, Dad. Saying how they’d love to visit and how they want to meet the Oakley West trio to shake their hands.’

  Rory had used the Oakley West trio in the article. It seemed the nickname might stick.

  ‘We’re famous. I’ve always wanted to be famous. Even if it is only for fifteen minutes. It was about time I got round to it.’ Veronica picked up one of the newspapers (they’d purchased more than one copy) and admired their picture on the front cover. It was really rather lovely: the three of them behind the bar, Randy with an arm round each of them, the mirrored wall providing an excellent backdrop.

  ‘There’s so much you could do, Dad. People are asking for sophisticated hen and stag parties, gin-connoisseur classes, gin-filled weekend breaks, writing retreats. There’s so many ideas people are coming up with and they’re all good. You could totally do them if you’re allowed to use the hotel.’ TJ was so animated in how he spoke it was clear there was more than one businessman in the family.

  ‘I’d happily run some classes,’ Olive said, obviously caught up in TJ’s enthusiasm. ‘I’d love to talk about the botanics and the gin-making process and how to serve the perfect drink.’ She had a lot of knowledge she’d been keeping to herself for too long. It turned out she wanted to share it and the idea of doing it for hen parties sounded like an absolute hoot.

  ‘Will you three be allowed out to help us for things like that?’ Tony asked.

  ‘Matron hasn’t even spoken to us. None of us has seen her since opening night. If some of the other staff hadn’t told us she was there, I’d be worrying about her safety for a change. It’s quite out of character. She’s always waiting for any opportunity to tell us off. Maybe she knows I’m not going to let her any more.’ Olive was adamant she wasn’t going to be pushed around.

  The newspaper article didn’t reflect particularly well on how Oakley West was run. It made it sound like a prison, which it practically was, all be it a nice one with food and entertainment.

  ‘Do you think she’s running scared?’

  ‘I’m honestly not sure. I’ve never known what to make of that woman. I should have given her a piece of my mind weeks ago. I only kept quiet so we were able to help with this place. And there’s no way she’s going to stop me from coming here.’

  ‘I think it’s safe to say the press is on the side of the Oakley West trio. Someone has set up a FB support page, getting people to pledge their support for you to be able to come here in the evenings. They all want to come and have their photo taken with you three behind the bar. There are people commenting from Japan,’ TJ said.

  ‘Japan? Isn’t this getting out of hand?’ Esme leaned forward from her relaxed position on the sofa.

  ‘Not if they come and visit,’ Tony said. ‘Can you imagine? People travelling from other countries to come and visit our little bar. That would be mental.’

  They’d all been worrying about attracting enough local custom, but now it seemed people were willing to travel considerable distances to come and visit The Gin Shack. At that moment, the phone rang and there was a knock at the door. It would seem the word spreading was going to make them popular in other ways as well. Hopefully it was no one arriving from Japan already.

  ‘I’ll get the phone,’ TJ offered, not really getting off his own.

  Tony got up to answer the door. The bar wasn’t due to open until five that evening, so it shouldn’t be customers and, as far as Olive knew, there were no deliveries due. She should know, considering she was in charge of arranging most of them.

  ‘It’s the Daily Mail,’ TJ said from the bar. ‘They want to know if they can come and do an interview this evening. They’re going to send a reporter down here straight away. Can we, Dad?’

  Tony was busy opening the door. Being featured in a national paper would be massive. Olive was pretty certain TJ should just say yes.

  ‘I think we might have to ask them to call back. I think we might need to deal with this first,’ Tony said.

  From their position in the snug corner, it wasn’t possible to see what was so important it required the abandonment of a call from a national paper. They all collectively craned their necks round to see what was going on.

  They didn’t need to, though. Tony was heading their way, followed by Matron, Richard and the police.

  Olive wanted to scream. How dare this be happening? But, of course, Matron, being the spiteful cow she was, wasn’t going to just give them a polite telling off. If she was going to do it, she was going to call in the big guns. It was beyond pathetic and Olive was ready to give up the kind little old lady act. The gloves were off.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘What are you doing here with them?’ Olive didn’t care about anyone else in the room. She was focused solely on her son.

  Along with Matron, Richard was standing behind the police officers almost like he was trying to hide. The thought he might have anything to do with the police being here made Olive angry and it took a lot to work her up. But at this point, she was seeing red to the point she wouldn’t care if she ended up in a jail cell. She would happily swing for them, her son more so than she would ever like to confess, and she got up to do so.

  ‘We’re here to talk to the owner.’ One of the police officers put himself between Olive and her son. Maybe he sensed she was ready to give him what for.

  Olive was incensed. Who treated a loved one like this? Was it not enough that he’d already attempted to take all enjoyment out of her life? There was no logic in his behaviour. Just because he’d vowed not to touch alcohol, it didn’t mean he should or could stop others from doing the same. Not even his mother.

  Maybe he felt she shouldn’t have got away with serving alcohol illegally the first time round, so that was why he was bringing the police to her this time. Unable to catch his eye, Olive wanted to cry. This was no longer just about wanting to look out for her best interests. This was way beyond that and, for the first time, Olive no longer recognised her son. She often used the past as justification for the way he behaved, but this was beyond that. There was no excuse for the upset his actions were causing.

  It wasn’t like she hadn’t done what he’d wanted and moved to Oakley West, then been forced to give up her hut. He’d won on all fronts, so why try and ruin this when it wasn’t even hers to ruin? Okay, the concept was hers, and she was helping with deciding what gins to have on the menu, but this was becoming a family-run business. Tony had taken a risk with his own redundancy money to make a dream come true. They’d all invested in this with their time and enthusiasm and it hurt to think anyone would be so cruel as to try and end it. And while she didn’t think for a minute that Matron wasn’t heavily involved with the police being here, it really did sting for them to have her own flesh
and blood lined up next to them.

  Despite doing her best to keep them under wraps, Olive had to wipe wet stuff away from her eyes. Hopefully no one noticed her having a moment. She didn’t want anyone to know she was hurting.

  ‘Can I get you a drink at all?’ Esme said. ‘I mean a cup of tea, not gin, obviously. I realise you couldn’t have a gin while on duty.’ She was rambling, nervous about the police turning up at The Gin Shack on only the third day of business.

  ‘We’ve had a report that you may not have the correct licences for the operation you have running here. We’re here to check the paperwork to ensure everything is in order.’

  As luck, or rather misfortune, would have it, they were the same two police officers who’d nearly arrested them earlier in the summer. If Olive hadn’t been in their police car, she’d be inclined to think it was just a couple of Matron’s friends she’d got to dress up in order to scare them into doing as she said.

  ‘What are your names?’ Olive stood up, the fire in her belly swelling so much she wasn’t going to try and hold it back.

  The two police officers look rather startled by the question.

  ‘Neil.’

  ‘Colin.’

  ‘Well, Neil and Colin, as this isn’t our first meeting and possibly not our last, I’m going to take the opportunity to introduce you to everyone.’ Olive went round the room introducing everyone by their first names. She noticed TJ hadn’t got round to putting the phone down. ‘Now, isn’t that friendlier? And isn’t it a shame you’re having to deal with such timewasters. I’m afraid Matron here and my son are only jealous. They don’t like to believe people can have a life outside of work, and clearly any enjoyment in life is enough for them to want to try and shut it down.’

  ‘We just need to see the licences, thank you, Olive. If everything is in order, we’ll be on our way.’

  ‘Over here, officers. Let me show you and explain everything.’ Tony led the officers to the bar.

  ‘Have you two got anything to say for yourselves then?’ Olive asked. She wasn’t able to disguise how angry she was at Richard having turned up with Matron.