‘Are they staying every night then?’
‘I’m not sure. All I know is I think I caught them, but they seemed to disappear. That was a few days ago. I’ve stopped going to the hut in the early morning to see if that’s what scared them off.’
‘Surely scaring them off is a good thing? Maybe they won’t head back and you’re rid of them.’
‘But then I won’t know who it was.’ It was an odd thing, but somehow knowing who it was would make Olive feel better. Not knowing had left her with a sense of unease that was making her uncomfortable and she’d never felt like that in her hut. And as the doctor had said, she wasn’t losing her marbles. She just wanted some confirmation of what was going on.
‘Someone’s coming,’ one of the other lads said.
At least one of them was doing a good job as lookout.
‘Don’t all look,’ Tony said, as they all simultaneously craned their heads round.
Olive had been clever enough to choose a spot that didn’t involve any amount of dislocating her neck to see what was happening. She was also covered by a couple of the taller boys, so hopefully no one would notice the white-haired old lady among them. Their stakeout would be ruined if the boys got reported for nanny-napping.
The person they were on about was in dark clothing and down the café end of the promenade. They didn’t have a dog with them, which at this time of night struck Olive as suspicious. However, it was possible it was someone out for a late-night walk, entirely innocently.
‘Is it just one person?’ Tony whispered. He’d not been so wise in his positioning, possibly because he’d got distracted by the pack of chocolate digestives Olive had distributed.
Olive did her best to take a peek without giving the appearance of a meerkat on lookout. Because it was further along the promenade, it was harder to work out exactly what was going on. All she could see was a chap (and she assumed it was a fella, because without wanting to be not entirely PC, the person was entirely lacking in boobage) shuffling around in his dark hoodie, just outside the café. The way he was dressed, he could well be there to burgle the place. ‘He’s doing something. I just can’t work out what.’
‘He’s getting a stepladder,’ Noah said. He had a slightly better view on the part of their circle nearest to the café.
‘Is he burgling the place?’ Tony was craning his neck now, wanting to see what was going on.
It wasn’t exactly bright enough to see the exact details. The only light was coming from lighting along the path above the cliff face. It gave the promenade a mystical glow like it was dowsed in stardust. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t know what he’s doing.’
‘He hasn’t spotted us yet. We need to move closer. Come on.’ Aiden flagged them all to follow him so the concrete wall would shield them.
All six of the lads took this as a command, like they were all in serious danger, and were going to get shot if they didn’t do as told. In this vein, they all started different variations of commando-style crawling across to the shelter of the wall. It was only Tony and Olive left looking at each other, wondering what their next move should be.
The guy-shaped person was busy putting his stepladder up and Olive didn’t want to end up caught by him. Although there was a gang of six lads that could jump him if he caused any problems. Not that she wanted to encourage the boys into yobbish behaviour. Better that she remain hidden as well.
Not that her speed would match the rest of them. Olive found her way onto all fours, and started off in the direction of the boys. There was no way she could manage to commando crawl, so a basic crawl would have to do. She’d never been so glad to be in a pair of trousers and, even better, they were dark. Had she known what she was going to get up to that day, she would have ordered in those kneepads already.
Tony drew parallel to Olive with his preferred option of low crawling, which was somewhere between the two styles. He looked rather like a turtle heading back to the ocean after laying his eggs on the shore. ‘He’s probably just the window cleaner.’
‘If he is, we’ll look like right numpties.’ It wasn’t like this was something Olive would do every day of the week. Or any day of the week for that matter.
When they reached the rest of the group, Olive soon realised the problem with their new position was that they no longer had the advantage of being able to see what was going on. Not unless one of them lifted their head above the parapet, which in essence defeated the point of them moving in the first place.
So, safe from view, none of them was any the wiser as to what was going on, but there had to be something shifty about the character lurking about two metres above them for all of them to have been worried enough to fall into silence.
Instead they all listened to the shifting movement coming from above. First there was scraping, which Olive guessed was the step ladder being moved. It was followed by a lengthy silence as if the person had stopped in their tracks, maybe to send a message or to check Facebook on their phone. Then there was movement again and Olive wasn’t able to tell if it was one or two sets of footsteps.
All she knew at this point was she really wished she’d eaten the second half of the Twix before crawling over here, because now all she had was a mash of a mess in her hand that looked, well, not great in the dark. If she was being frank, if any of the boys saw the mess she was in, they would think she’d soiled herself and used her hand to clean up. And quite frankly she was still a bit peckish, with no idea how long they’d be waiting down here.
Realising there was only one way to clean up, she set to cleaning her hand like she was a toddler, the licking-it-all-off method being the only one available.
At least it entertained her while they continued to listen, all of them beginning to get a bit restless with the position they’d put themselves in. If they spoke, they’d be heard. If they moved, they’d be seen. Even licking her fingers was a bit of a risk.
As there was more movement above them, Olive tried to work out if it had moved further along to her beach hut. She’d half-forgotten the purpose of their visit. They seemed to be doing something at the café, but that wasn’t to say they might be tampering with Olive’s original Gin Shack.
Aiden started some hand signals to all of them that Olive didn’t totally understand, but from the wild gesticulations she got that they should all be staying there while he went to go and check things out. He then started moving towards the steps, presumably so he could take a peek without being seen.
Olive hoped her beach hut wasn’t part of what was going on. She knew that was why she was here, but she’d imagined it was some homeless person just finding shelter. Instead it might be that someone was using it as a base for a criminal drug ring that only operated during certain hours. That wasn’t a particularly pleasant thought, especially as it was far too close to the truth of what had occurred at Oakley West during the summer.
Within a minute or two of reaching the steps and a new vantage point, Aiden gave up all attempts at hiding himself, shooting straight up so his tall frame would be seen by any passers-by.
‘Oi! What do you think you’re doing?’ With that Aiden shot up the steps, taking two at a time, presumably chasing whoever they’d been hiding from.
Olive gave up hiding, as did everyone else, seeing as there was absolutely no point now.
Not wanting to miss what was going on, they all followed Aiden, most of the boys starting to run to give chase.
Olive wasn’t going to be taking up running any time soon, but it was very easy to work out exactly what had been going on to cause Aiden to give their presence away.
Because, with streamers blowing in the wind, the beach café now had a giant decoupage bottom to match the one that had been hung at the Gin Shack.
And, like the Gin Shack, the letters on the sign had been changed to say something else. Olive couldn’t tell what from down on the sands, but she knew she wanted a closer look to be sure. Because whatever it was, she knew for certain it would feel like
a threat. Whoever was doing this – the person they’d just been metres away from – was a manipulating coward who wanted to make their presence known without admitting who they were.
Moving in, she saw that the sign read: Café CLOSED cos it hit Rock Bottom.
Olive couldn’t work out what to make of it. If the café was definitely closed, why use it as a target? Maybe because no one would be about to take the sign off like they had.
With all of the boys playing chase, Olive wasn’t able to do much to move the sign off other than yank at a few streamers and use them to clean off her hand.
And as there was no stepladder to try and yank the rest off, there was only one thing useful she was able to do.
With her hand as clean as possible and chocolate-covered streamers in the bin, Olive found her Segway and did her very best to give them all a run for their money by attempting to catch up.
It turned out getting her go-faster stripes was going to be useful.
Chapter Thirteen
Even on her Segway, Olive wasn’t able to catch up with the perpetrator. He’d given them the slip all too easily and there was nothing more to do other than convene at the scene of the crime.
‘Is the café really closing, Dad?’ Aiden asked as they all gathered to catch their breath. Apart from Olive, of course, who was really rather pleased with her purchase as it was proving its worth already. And Tony, who’d had the good sense not to go and ruin his recuperation by giving chase when there were six healthy young lads in pursuit as it was.
‘Not that I knew about, but there was an application for a premises license. I thought it was so they could serve up wine and beer at lunch as well as ice cream, but there must be more to it.’
They all studied the sign in more detail. This was definitely the work of the same person who’d applied the additional sign to the Gin Shack. The bottom was almost identical, having been built up in layers. Unlike the sign they’d had added, this one had multicoloured streamers set out like the colours of the rainbow along the bottom. It wasn’t depicting poo, like the one they’d had. It looked more like it belonged at the Notting Hill carnival.
‘Can you speak to the owners and find out?’ Olive didn’t like this. She didn’t like it at all, but they were fighting an invisible force. One she didn’t know what to make of.
‘Yes, I will. I need to talk to them about this to start off with. If it is closing I think they’d rather announce it themselves than let this monstrosity do the talking.’
‘I think the only person reaching rock bottom is the one doing this. It’s hideous. Did any of you get a proper look?’ Olive really didn’t like this. It was a form of bullying, however creative it was.
Most of the boys shook their heads.
‘I didn’t see them, but there must have been two because the one I was chasing got into the passenger side of the van before they drove off. That sign is pretty big, they obviously needed the van to deliver it, and it would have taken two of them to get it down there.’
‘Did you get the license number?’ Tony asked, obviously hopeful the night was going to come to an end with a nice piece of solid evidence to catch the bad guys.
‘The plate was dirty. I could only see that it started with a C, then the rest was unreadable.’
Tony asked a few more questions about the details of the van, but sadly, it was way too generic for them to hope it might help them catch the persons responsible. They would just have to keep an eye out.
As they all decided it was too late to hang around any more, and there’d been way too much activity to hope that Olive’s squatter would turn up, they all headed home.
Tony wanted to escort Olive back, but as he would be able see she’d returned safely from a distance, she insisted he made sure the kids (because, yes, they were young adults, but to her they were still kids really) got home safely.
As she whizzed back to Oakley West it was hard to believe that the usually quiet bay was such a hive of activity of late. And not the kind of activity anyone would want to encourage. With so many types of crime going on, Olive might become more of a mall cop with her new set of wheels than she’d ever thought she would be. Or should that be promenade police? Somehow it didn’t have quite the same ring to it.
For the first time in what felt like ages, Olive went to the Gin Shack purely for enjoyment. Often these days she would go in the daytime for a cuppa and a catch-up with Richard or she would be helping out behind the bar, but she’d been so busy recently, she’d not gone for the evening to try what was on offer.
The chocolate-orange cocktail had been featured and this evening it was a recipe from Skylar that Olive hadn’t had a preview of. The occasion called for reindeer earrings and a Christmas jumper. November was not too soon to start getting in the festive spirit as far as Olive was concerned.
Time was running away and it was only six weeks until Santa would be visiting all the good girls and boys. And Olive couldn’t miss out on trying another of the entries. Fingers crossed it wasn’t anything like hers.
Knowing what she shouldn’t know, Olive did wonder if there might be some bias in her son’s decision over which cocktail to feature that week. It would be a perfect way to have started the conversation flowing between them. She was also sure Skylar had excellent ideas and taste, being the creative person she was, so, even if that had been what happened, she knew the cocktail would be a good one and she couldn’t wait to have a try.
Soon Olive was wandering to the Gin Shack with Randy and Veronica keeping her company.
‘You’ve no idea who it was then?’ Randy asked, because as of late, all their conversations centred on paper bottoms.
‘No, other than it was more than likely a man and I would say he was no older than about fifty. The only other thing was he had a white transit van with a registration plate that began with the letter C and there were probably two of them.’
‘What happened about the sign?’
‘It’s still there. We can go take a look en route if you like. Apparently the tenants have changed, so the previous café owners don’t want anything to do with it and the new ones weren’t bothered as they’re in the process of moving in. They’re going to remove it when they get the chance.’
The three of them crossed the Esplanade for their detour. ‘Who’d have thought a decoupage bottom could become a tourist attraction?’ Olive said, wondering how many other people must have stopped on their journeys to take a look.
‘I guess that’s the point, isn’t it?’ Veronica said. ‘They’ve done it to attract attention.’
As if to prove the point, there were several people gathered taking silly selfies with the bottom in the background.
‘I still don’t see why anyone would do it,’ Randy said. ‘It seems a lot of effort without much purpose.’
Veronica got her phone out. ‘Would it be bad form to join in and take a picture?’
Olive shook her head in exasperation. Trust her far-too-on-trend-with-tech friend to want to be down with the kids and take a selfie. ‘I just don’t like it. There’s something not right about this. But don’t let me stop you from taking one.’
‘No, don’t worry. It was only an idea.’
‘You do know Veronica set up a Facebook fan page for us, don’t you? The Oakley West trio are still famous. She keeps updating it with news about all of us and what’s going on at the Gin Shack. It’s surprisingly popular.’
‘Noah had mentioned it. If you want a picture for that, why don’t you take a nice selfie of the three of us minus the bottom in the background.’ It was a nice idea anyway. They should probably organise something at the Gin Shack to have a picture taken of everyone involved with the place. Perhaps it was something they should plan to do over the Christmas week when everyone was likely to be about. That would be some family portrait for Olive to have displayed in her room at Oakley West. One that represented all the new and old aspects of her life.
‘Come on then,’ Randy said, guiding t
hem both round so they’d have the sea in the background and he could stand proudly in the middle.
It was odd to think they had a fan club. People from all over the world who’d seen them in the media and followed their story since. The trio of care-home residents who had been stopped from forming their Gin Shack Club, forcing them to find their own way of making it a reality, eventually leading to the opening of the Gin Shack with the help of their friends. The media and the public had loved their story, and while in some ways Olive would have preferred it if the attention had died down, these days it was for the purpose of maintaining interest in the Gin Shack and making sure the customers kept coming.
‘Say cheese then.’ Veronica held the phone at arm’s length and did something fancy with her other hand that set the thing ready to take their picture. Then again. And again. ‘You do it, Randy, your arms are longer.’
They all shuffled about and readjusted to find the perfect angle. As they were a bunch of octogenarians, it was pretty tough to find one that didn’t give them five double-chins each and reveal that at least one of them no longer had their own teeth.
After about the seventh photo, Olive was getting a bit bored and distracted by the bottom-selfie antics going on behind Veronica’s phone. She’d seen at least ten people stop and take a picture. It was creating a fair amount of traffic and she guessed if it had been posted on social media, word was spreading about the bottom on the beach.
Olive noticed there were now posters all over the building as well. As if another opportunist had come along and flyered the building in the hope everyone would come to their DJ set that weekend. Although it wasn’t in those fluorescent colours she was used to seeing.
Smiling for one more photo, Olive had to go over and investigate. She left the other two to squabble over whether they had the perfect picture in favour of finding out what was going on.
Every poster splashed across the café walls was advertising the same thing. All Olive could make out was an upside-down bottle with burgundy, white and black colours marking it out. The lettering was black on the white background and, like everything lately, she needed to get a bit closer to make it out for sure. When the words did come into focus, she almost swore out loud. She didn’t, because there were young kids about, but as they were all taking pictures of the bottom, they were probably well-versed in a ‘bloody cheek’ or two.
Christmas at the Gin Shack Page 9