The Gin Shack on the Beach

by Catherine Miller

  ‘Why are you calling me Randy?’ Even the vision of Veronica in her pink fluffy dressing gown didn’t ease the thumping in Olive’s chest.

  Olive signalled for Veronica to close the door. The last thing they needed was to be found when she had no idea how to explain what was going on.

  ‘Randy isn’t here.’

  ‘Where’s he gone?’

  ‘I don’t know. He wasn’t here when I got here.’ Olive wasn’t explaining herself very well, the distress beginning to show. There was probably some rational reason for him not being here. Perhaps he’d stopped off for a big poo. The men she knew liked to spend three days in the loo when they were having a dump. But it didn’t seem like the kind of move a military man in charge of an operation would make.

  ‘How did you get in then?’ Veronica’s eyebrows knitted into a shape of perfect perplexity.

  ‘It was open. With no sign of Randy anywhere.’

  ‘He would have left a note or something if he went for some reason. Have you checked the desk?’

  To be fair, Olive hadn’t moved from the spot she was standing on. She was still trying to work out what to do. It was a good job Veronica was there with helpful suggestions. ‘Not yet.’

  Veronica went over and browsed the desk. ‘No notes from Randy, but there are letters here. Maybe we can find out what Matron’s name is seeing as that’s why we’re here.’

  ‘But where is he?’ Olive wasn’t so worried about finding out about surnames now one of them was missing.

  ‘He’ll turn up.’

  How was Veronica not worried? ‘But what if he got caught? What if he did open the door, but then Matron discovered him? What if he’s in a police cell already and it’ll be us next? We should go. He might have had to make a move back to the room.’

  ‘Jones.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Matron’s name. It’s Helen Jones.’

  ‘Great. But where’s Randy?’ If finding out Matron’s full name had been that easy, then surely one of them shouldn’t be missing.

  ‘Message him. He’ll soon tell us.’

  ‘If he can.’ Olive wasn’t prepared to adopt Veronica’s cool attitude just yet.

  Where are you, Randy?

  Olive managed to type out the message on her phone while Veronica worked her way through the paperwork and paraphernalia on the desk.

  Like an obsessed teenager eagerly waiting to hear back from her beloved, Olive stared at the phone screen with an unnatural intensity. Bing. When the tiny circle became solid it was the first triumph. It meant his phone had received the message. He, or at least his phone, was alive and able to receive messages.

  The thought made Olive shudder. Was there really any chance they were in that much trouble? Could loo blockers really escalate to murder quite so quickly? She stared at the small circle, willing Randy’s Facebook photo to fill the circle so she’d know he’d at least read the message. He would know they were here panicking. Well, at least one of them was.

  Veronica started going through the litter bin. ‘Have a look round the rest of the room. See if you can spot anything. We don’t want to be in here any longer than necessary.’

  Olive didn’t want to stop staring at her phone, but willing Randy to answer the message wasn’t working. Mooching round the room to look for clues would stop her from worrying.

  But as Olive checked bookshelves and peeked under pot plants, she was no closer to being any less anxious about Randy’s disappearance. She even said his name when trying out a locked cupboard just in case he was stuck inside there. No such luck.

  ‘Found anything?’ Veronica was straightening the desk up. It appeared she’d had the good sense to take a picture on her phone before moving every item on there.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Considering Olive had no idea what she really needed to find to connect Matron to The Gin Shack loo crime it was hard to put a finger on if she had found anything or not. At the very least, she hadn’t found anything obviously incriminating. Apart from Randy being MISSING. That seemed to be a pretty big clue to the fact something wasn’t right.

  ‘We better head back then. Randy might be there waiting for us already.’

  Leaving without him seemed wrong somehow. They were a man down and they shouldn’t return without doing everything in their power to all return together. If there was some kind of soldier code in such scenarios, they were definitely breaking it and ruining whatever honour they had. But even with that thought, there was nothing more they could do here. There was no evidence Matron was linked to The Gin Shack vandalism and none to suggest Randy had even been here. Staying would be pointless and the longer they were here, the more likely it was they would get caught.

  ‘Okay. We should head back, but we’ll go together. I don’t want to risk any more of us vanishing into thin air.’ Olive checked her phone one more time before they left. Nothing like being overzealous. ‘He’s seen the message,’ Olive said, way more jubilant than she ever normally would be over the intrusions technology provided.

  ‘Let me see.’

  Olive passed the phone over, knowing Veronica was far more tech savvy than she could ever hope to be.

  ‘He’s typing a reply.’

  ‘Thank fuck for that. I was beginning to think he’d got himself killed.’ Olive didn’t want to admit that she’d imagined finding him at the bottom of a stairwell with her son’s fear of broken hips coming true. Although the fact he could type didn’t rule that out.

  Get back to the room, girls, pronto. Message me when you’ve returned safely.

  ‘But where is he? Is he okay?’ The message they’d received didn’t do much to comfort Olive. Not after the stuck-at-the-bottom-of-a-stairwell-with-a-broken-hip image had entered her mind.

  ‘No idea, but wherever he is he wants us to go back. And it sounds like we should be getting out of here, like, ten minutes ago.’

  Olive wanted to type a message back. To get more clarification on where exactly Randy was and what he was up to, but there was no option other than to leave in light of the fact it sounded like a warning. Maybe he’d opened the door and was playing lookout on their behalf. Someone might be coming this way any second now, although this seemed reasonably unlikely given it was now two in the morning. Still, there was no point risking it when they’d gone to so much trouble to discover Matron’s surname. Jones. What an effort for a surname that ranked in the top five most common surnames in the UK.

  So, in their fluffy dressing gowns and slippers, Olive and Veronica returned to Olive’s room in the quietest way they knew how: skating along like no one was watching.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It was a disappointment to find Randy wasn’t waiting for them on their return. In some ways that was to his benefit because Olive would likely have thumped him for the worry he’d caused her. Instead it left them with no idea where he was or what was going on.

  We’re back. Where are you?

  Olive barely waited until they’d closed the door to send the message and she really hoped he would reply. She didn’t like the sense of unease was washing over her.

  Fortunately, because of the intrusive nature of modern technology, Olive was able to tell he was responding. All they had to do was wait and hope his answer made things a little bit clearer this time.

  I need you to do a few things for me, girls. Olive, can you contact your son and get him to arrive as soon as possible? Meet up with him somewhere away from here and The Gin Shack.

  ‘Gah.’ Olive let out a shriek of frustration. ‘He still hasn’t told us where he is.’

  Are you hurt?

  Olive could well imagine Randy dishing out a list of instructions even if he was on his deathbed.

  I’m not hurt. I don’t want you two to worry, but I’m trapped.

  Of course they were going to worry if he was trapped. Olive had been right to panic all along. The three grey spots continued to flicker so Randy was still ty
ping and Olive was bloody glad because they really did need a bit more information. They should be calling the fire services, not hiding in their bedroom.

  Something illegal is definitely happening here, but if they find me before we get the police to check it out, they might destroy all the evidence.

  This time Olive wanted to shout out “Arghhhhh”, but didn’t dare. What kind of trouble was Randy in?

  I’m safe. I just need to remain hidden until you can get the police here.

  ‘Why aren’t we calling them now? He’s gone nuts.’ Veronica was busy reading the same messages on her phone and her gobsmacked expression meant she’d finally caught up with Olive on the concerned front.

  We’re going to call them now.

  Veronica typed the response with her speedy fingers.

  It might be the early hours of the morning, but if Randy was in any kind of trouble, and it seemed very much like he was, then they needed to get the police here as soon as possible.

  Okay. And call Richard. I think we’re going to need his legal advice.

  Ringing her son before four in the morning was always going to make him worry, but he’d be up early to head here anyway. Getting him up earlier wouldn’t hurt and, given the circumstances, they really did need all the help they could get. Olive also wanted to ring Tony. Even though Randy hadn’t told them to, she decided he needed to know what was going on, so she would contact him as soon as she felt it wasn’t too early.

  On opposite sides of the room, Olive and Veronica took their respective calls and tried to relay the oddest set of facts they’d ever had to divulge:

  Their friend was missing within the building.

  They didn’t know where he was.

  He didn’t feel it was safe to leave until the police were here.

  He thought something illegal was going on, but they weren’t sure what it was.

  Undoubtedly they sounded entirely dotty, but they were the facts and all they were worried about was getting their friend back.

  Having made the calls, they did the only thing they could and that was wait. It would take Richard just over an hour to get there and they’d agreed meeting at Oakley West might attract attention, so they were set to meet at the beach hut.

  It just meant slipping out one more time without getting caught.

  Because they’d become so highly skilled at escaping Oakley West, Olive and Veronica managed to do so with relative ease. They went for Veronica’s Tuesday-morning exit and did so without a hiccup. At least something had gone right.

  The best neutral ground they could think of was Olive’s beach hut and, as fortune would have it, Olive had forgotten to put the key back where it belonged.

  They were heading there at the time of day Olive used to go down to the beach. Strictly speaking, it was ahead of the hours the beach huts should be in use, but as she was an older lady keeping herself to herself and only making a cuppa, she’d never been pulled up about being there that early.

  The bay was perfection at that time of morning, when the only marks breeching the gloss of sand were the seagulls’ prints from their early jaunts. No dog-walkers or dawn risers were up disturbing the peace. It was before the rest of the world was awake and a slice of life she missed. Especially when she compared it to now, when life had never been so complicated.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Veronica asked when they reached the beach hut.

  Olive shrugged. They faced another session of more waiting. Randy had switched his phone off to save the battery and they were on tenterhooks over when they would next hear from him. Hopefully, they would again before Richard arrived. Opening up the hut, there was only one thing to do. ‘Time to have a cuppa, I guess?’

  It was the best option. When all else failed, have a brew. Mugs in hand, it was oddly surreal to be parked up on deckchairs enjoying the view when their friend was trapped. As they drank in silence, it felt very much like the calm before the storm.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The waiting business was so enthralling, both of them managed to fall asleep in their deckchairs. It had been a long night with no sleep and neither of them were spritely enough to stop themselves from nodding off.

  ‘Olive. Olive.’

  The voice repeating her name was a dream at first. Familiar yet foreign all at once. It wasn’t until there was a hand on her shoulder that she properly woke with a fractured recollection of why she was here. ‘Randy,’ she said, hopeful this whole ordeal was over.

  ‘It’s Tony. Are you okay?’

  Never in her life had she been so glad to see him. ‘Randy’s missing.’ She’d never got round to contacting him like she’d meant to, so it was both a surprise and delight to see him.

  ‘I know. Richard filled me in. He should be here very soon. He wanted someone to come and check you were both okay.’

  ‘Randy’s messaged,’ Veronica said, her hair sticking up like a proper case of bed head. It would seem deckchair hair was a far worse condition.

  ‘What does it say?’ Olive wasn’t awake enough to operate her phone yet.

  ‘He fell sleep, but fortunately his snoring didn’t attract any attention. He wants us to let him know when Richard arrives and what the police are up to.’

  ‘What are the police up to?’ Tony asked.

  ‘They didn’t seem very convinced there was a problem when I rang in the early hours. They said they’d send someone over this morning. Apparently Randy hasn’t been missing long enough for them to worry and, as he’s in contact, they seemed to think it was some kind of wind-up.’ Now sitting up, Veronica seemed more out of fettle than ever, her hair pointing in all directions and wearing Olive’s baggy clothes as they’d opted not to come here in their dressing gowns.

  ‘If the police go straight to Oakley West, won’t that cause problems for Randy?’ Tony said.

  ‘We have to hope not.’ The new male voice was a very welcome one and Olive jumped out of her deckchair to greet Richard with a hug.

  They weren’t really a hugging pair. More often it was a kiss on the cheek, but today she definitely needed to cuddle her son. She’d never been gladder to have his level-headed personality about the place. If anyone could sort out what was happening, it was Richard.

  ‘What exactly do you know about where Randy is and why he’s stuck?’ Richard was straight down to business.

  Veronica showed Richard the messages they’d been sending to each other and soon he was sending loads of additional questions Olive and Veronica hadn’t thought of.

  Eager to keep up with what was going on, it was rather fun that Olive was able to watch what Richard was messaging from her own phone.

  Hi Randy. It’s Richard. Whereabouts are you? How did you get there? Why aren’t you able to get out safely? What makes you think something illegal is happening?

  The list of questions was long and Olive wondered why they hadn’t asked a few more. Perhaps they would have if it hadn’t been for the need to turn off Randy’s phone to save his battery. For all their kit packing, they’d not bothered with chargers. But then their outing was only supposed to take about half an hour max.

  ‘I’ll make us all a drink then?’ Tony said. It seemed like an excellent suggestion while they waited for Randy’s responses. It was way too early for any of them to be thinking very sensibly until they had a decent amount of caffeine flowing through their veins.

  The three grey dots started to dance on the phone screen. At least that meant Randy was awake and answering Richard’s questions. If they fully understood what was happening, it would be easier to come up with a plan of action.

  Before the dots had finished their merry dance, Tony had made drinks and was dishing them out to everyone.

  Olive plonked into the deckchair again. The night had exhausted her and she had a feeling she needed to save her energy for the coming day.

  ‘Are those plants yours, Olive?’ Tony asked while passing her a mug of tea now she was comfo
rtable.

  ‘Plants?’ It took her a moment to remember the pots she’d removed from her ottoman. Such a lot was happening, her brain was struggling to keep up. ‘Those were left inside my ottoman by some inconsiderate so-and-so. It must have been a gardening session for the Oakley West activities programme.’

  ‘Oh. Are you sure?’

  ‘I’ve no idea who put them inside, but that’s the only reason I can think of as to why they’re there. They obviously thought it was an ideal box to germinate some seeds. Why?’

  ‘Erm, well, I might be imagining things. Let me ask Richard. Rich, over here, mate.’ Tony waved Olive’s son over and relieved him of his grey-spot watching for a moment. ‘What do you make of these?’

  ‘I’m not much of a botanist. Mum, you’re more likely to know what these are.’

  Olive was already on her way over. She’d not even paid much attention to what the pots contained yesterday, the early shoots barely pushing past the soil. She’d assumed they were pansies or some such in order to fill some hanging baskets or plant in the courtyard at Oakley West. Something suitably mundane like the rest of the usual activities calendar. Although, having said that, of late, it had been more than a little interesting.

  There were now a couple of leaves starting to unfurl on the early shoots. The round leaves so indistinguishable in many plants were now joined by a couple of smaller serrated green leaves.

  ‘Bloody hell.’ Olive wasn’t often shocked, but this was enough to make her gasp. ‘It’s weed.’

  ‘What?’ Veronica had been on grey-spot watch, but was soon with the rest of them in the beach hut.

  ‘Thought it was. Olive has a small crop of marijuana growing in her beach hut.’ Tony helpfully filled Veronica in.

  ‘Hang on. The ottoman was full of gin when it was my beach hut. These latest changes have nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Maybe the police will listen to us more now,’ Veronica said.

  ‘But they might have planted these by mistake,’ Tony said.

  ‘What about the bottles I found? They definitely drank my gin. Does that count as theft if we’d handed the keys over for them to borrow the property?’ Olive’s son would know the technicalities of whether it would be considered a crime.