Christmas at the Gin Shack

by Catherine Miller

  ‘Can we?’ Rory gestured towards the back of her beach hut so they’d be away from everyone else there.

  It was an uncertain course of action to follow. This could be some back-of-the-bike-sheds moment, and Olive didn’t have an ounce of cougar in her, although she would understand if he was attracted. Who wouldn’t be, given her drooling abilities and Segway swag? But of course it was nothing of the sort. It was just that she didn’t have a clue what it could be, unless he was requesting the recipes for his mother. That sounded more likely.

  Richard started gathering the troops ready to return to base camp.

  It was a moment when Olive should have been following, but something about this exchange was making her curious enough not to move yet.

  ‘What’s up?’ Olive said it as if she still had youth on her side.

  The group she had been teaching were already following Richard, so there was no one in earshot now.

  ‘I might get into trouble for this, so you have to promise not to tell anyone.’

  Suddenly Olive wasn’t so sure she should be letting everyone drift off while she was stuck here hearing a confessional. Goodness knew what Rory was about to admit. ‘It depends what it is.’

  The lad peered round Olive’s hut like it might conspire against them. ‘Just, whatever you say, you didn’t hear it from me.’

  ‘Okkaaaayyy.’ Olive really had no clue what she was being drawn into.

  ‘I just wanted to warn you that two Mince Pie cocktail recipes have been entered into the competition.’

  ‘Oh. Well, they did ask for Christmas flavours. I guess similar themes will crop up.’ It was disappointing to think that her idea wasn’t a unique one. Especially when she’d worked hard on getting it just right.

  ‘Not just the same name. There’s been an identical recipe entered.’ Rory did that widening of the eyes thing to emphasis the point.

  ‘Identical? What? As in copied?’ Even though they’d been trialling the cocktails at the Gin Shack, they’d never given out the recipe. It was available in case anyone with allergies needed to know the full list of ingredients, but as far as Olive knew, no one had requested to see it. ‘Who is the entry from?’

  ‘I’ve said too much already, but if you get it in one guess, I’ll let you know if you’re right.’

  It wouldn’t have taken a genius to work it out, seeing as they had a specialist in foul play at work in the bay. ‘Does it begin with Bottoms?’

  ‘You’ve got it.’ Rory raised his eyebrows as he spoke. ‘And you never heard anything from me, remember?’

  ‘Are you coming back to the Gin Shack?’ Olive needed to work out what to do.

  ‘Yes, I might as well.’

  ‘Good. Because you can walk me up there. I think we need another drink.’ There was still enough of the chocolate-orange cocktail for them both to have some. It would be a shame to waste it and it would be a chance to think. ‘I just don’t understand how anyone could have got hold of the recipe in order to copy it.’

  Rory shrugged while accepting the drink Olive offered him. ‘You must have told some people, otherwise no one at the Gin Shack would be able to produce it.’

  ‘But no one from the Gin Shack crew would double-cross us like that. We don’t have any spies in our camp. Unless…’ The thought came to Olive all at once and perfectly formed.

  ‘What? Do you know who’s let on?’ Rory appeared like he might be joining the squiffy brigade.

  There wasn’t any other plausible explanation for it. There was only one person who might want to have some kind of revenge by doing such a thing. ‘Helen, or should I say Matron, helped me with all the gin prep. We were doing her a favour by letting her stay in the hotel occasionally because she’d been struggling. She’s the only one who’s had access to the recipe who has a reason to be upset with us.’ Ever since she’d reappeared, Olive hadn’t been able to fathom the woman. The Oakley West trio might have been the reason Helen got caught, but it wasn’t down to them that she’d got in trouble with the police and lost her home and job as a result. That was all her own doing and she had to be accountable for the actions she’d taken even if they had been to protect a family member.

  ‘Why would she do that, though, when you’ve been helping her out?’ Rory downed the rest of his drink.

  Once upon a time, life had been simpler. There was a time when Olive thought she was able to understand the rationale of people. She wasn’t sure if it was because things were harder to reason the older she became, or if it was because the world was becoming a more complex and demanding place. Either way, sometimes she didn’t know where to stand in the grand scheme of things. Could it be that, although she’d offered to help Helen when her life was at a low ebb, she would be prepared to switch loyalties in what must be a revenge attack? ‘There’s only one way to find out. We’ll have to go and ask her.’

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Hills (or rather relentless gradients) were so much harder when in a rush and more than a bit sozzled. Even with being able to hold on to the arm of a young man, Olive wasn’t able to get there as quickly as she wanted.

  There was every possibility it was going to be a fruitless endeavour. After all, even if Helen had shared the secret recipe, was there any chance she would admit to it? She was being paid to help with the Gingle Bells weekend, so admitting to having done so would put her out of work and a place to stay again.

  Olive honestly wasn’t able to think of anybody else who might have done, though. And it was such a mean-spirited thing to do, she wasn’t about to sit back and just let it happen. She wanted to find out who’d been so deceitful.

  The Gin Shack was crowded when they arrived and Olive went in search of Richard. With the extra people here from the weekend, and the fact that Richard had put on a buffet for everyone as part of the winning-cocktail announcement, there was barely room to move.

  Fortunately, although short in stature, Olive made up for it with her voice and elbows, and soon found her way behind the bar in the hope of having a quiet word with her son. It was the Salter boys and Tony serving everyone today, though.

  ‘You okay, Olive?’ Tony asked.

  For a moment, Olive forgot her task entirely. Seeing Tony back behind the bar was such a delight it was like an early Christmas present. She knew they were all on the planet for a finite period of time, but when Tony had been taken ill, she’d realised she so wasn’t ready for his departure, and it really had been so bloody close to the wire. Having Tony back in his rightful place was such a victory. A life-over-death situation if there had ever been one, and it made Olive so emotional, she was close to shedding a tear. ‘Really good to see you back here,’ she said, more choked-up than she expected to be.

  ‘Really good to be back,’ Tony said, giving her a great big hug. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

  Olive didn’t like to say she was half-cut. She usually drank her gin for pleasure, only ever having one or two of an evening. So starting before lunch and continuing through the day really was an exception. Bloody enjoyable, though, she thought to herself, before remembering she was here for a purpose.

  ‘I need to speak to Richard. Do you know where he is?’ As she said it, Olive wondered if she was slurring. She really did hope she hadn’t got to the point of slurring without actually realising she was doing it.

  ‘He’s round in the kitchen. Is there anything I can do to help?’

  Olive tried to think if there was through her cocktail haze. Even if Helen confessed all, Olive didn’t know what they would do. Very much like adding paper bottoms to signs, it was hardly crime of the century. And Olive didn’t want to involve the police in something that would just make them seem like sore losers if they didn’t manage to be crowned as the winners.

  But Tony was her confidant. If anyone would know how to advise with a sensible head on it was him. ‘Can you come with me to find Richard?’

  When they reached the kitchen, Richard was in there along with Esme, Skylar and Lu
cas.

  ‘Oh, hello, darling. The chef has just left. He’s been paid in full. Is everything okay?’ Esme said to Tony.

  ‘Where’s Helen?’ Olive butted in, not giving Tony a chance to answer. She wanted to speak with her friends, out of the earshot of others, especially Helen.

  ‘She’s gone up to her room for a rest. She’ll be back down to help clean up later. Why, what’s wrong?’

  Skylar was busy putting Lucas’s jacket on, but stopped what she was doing to listen in.

  Olive turned to check there was no one on their way in and no reporters about, not that Rory would be following up on this story without getting himself into trouble. ‘I’ve been reliably informed that our Mince Pie cocktail recipe has been copied and submitted for the competition by Bottoms Up.’

  Apart from the rustling of Lucas doing up his coat, the room went very quiet as everyone took in what Olive had just said.

  ‘How would Pete have got hold of the recipe? Could it be some kind of fluke?’ Richard said.

  ‘Nothing is ever a fluke with that man,’ Skylar quickly corrected him. ‘Look, we need to go. Let me know what happens?’ She gave Richard a peck on the cheek and gave a lingering look that said she didn’t want to leave. If Olive had been in a better position to do so, she’d have offered to take Lucas back so Skylar and Richard could spend more time together. But drunken old ladies who wouldn’t be able to walk that far without needing the toilet at least once were generally not deemed to be the best babysitters. Besides, she had a question to ask.

  With Skylar and Lucas gone, it meant nobody had to be polite now.

  ‘What is wrong with this guy? How is putting in the same recipe as us going to help him?’ Richard said.

  ‘It might not help him, but it might see us both disqualified,’ Esme said. ‘He might just be trying to scupper any chance of us winning.’

  ‘Is it really the same recipe? How did he get a hold of it?’ Tony asked.

  ‘None of us would have told him. The only reasonable explanation I can come up with is that Matron, I mean Helen, is trying to have her revenge.’

  ‘Really? She wouldn’t do that, would she? I was beginning to like her,’ Esme said.

  Even Olive had warmed to her a bit more, but outside of the Gin Shack crew, all of whom she trusted implicitly, there was no one else aware of the recipe details. Although there was also everyone on the Gingle Bells weekend. They had given out tutorials on how to make the cocktail up. Surely that was a fairly obvious place for a leak to occur? ‘Hang on, I’m being stupid. Anyone paying enough attention during the masterclasses could have passed any of the recipes on. It might not be Helen.’

  It was a good job they hadn’t marched up to her room like they were on some kind of witch hunt.

  ‘How do we work out if anyone has then?’ Richard said.

  Olive really was the worst detective in the world. She knew that from the events that had happened over the summer, when she’d done her very best to be a covert operative and failed at it spectacularly – unless working out where Randy had disappeared to counted. ‘Could we, you know, just ask them?’ It wasn’t really revolutionary on the scale of genius, but frankly, she was pissed. It was the best she had to offer.

  ‘They wouldn’t tell us, though, if they had, would they?’ Richard said

  Olive’s brain cells were firing on this matter despite needing to drink a pint of water to start balancing things out. She even had an answer that might be coherent. ‘Pete isn’t the kind of guy who’s going to have many friends. I don’t think anyone has come here on the Christmas weekend in order to work as a spy on his behalf. Especially not when he’d booked himself into the weekend anyway. I reckon, when you kicked him off the course, he might well have surreptitiously asked one of the participants to give him the recipes. They would have done it because they were being nice, not because they wanted to see our competition chances go down the pan.’ She was rambling and wasn’t altogether sure she was coherent after all. It made some sense without making any sense at all. Basically, there was a possibility Pete had garnered the information from someone from the retreat weekend. It might even be Rory double-crossing them.

  ‘Let’s ask. If we don’t find anything out, there’s nothing we can do about it,’ Esme said.

  ‘Not nothing,’ Olive was quick to say. ‘We’ll change the recipe somehow so they’re not identical. We’re not letting our chances be ruined by dirty tactics.’

  ‘Let’s go and mingle then and see if we can find out anything. Helen will be down soon so we can ask her as well. Say, meet back in here in half an hour before we announce the winning cocktail to the rest of the public,’ Richard said.

  Even though Olive was eager to find out what she was able to, she was sensible enough to stop for a drink of water and a wee first. There was only so much frivolity she was able to cope with and today she was reaching a peak.

  They’d not been sensible enough to allocate one another people to question before all heading out of the kitchen. So Olive had to try and guess, from where they’d all headed, who had spoken to whom. Tony was with the Japanese girls, Esme was talking to the jovial couples, Richard was chatting to Rory, so Olive headed for the retirement quarter residents from Brighton.

  It turned out asking questions was hard work. Especially when Olive didn’t want it to count against them in the hospitality stakes. Just going straight in with, “Did you give away our recipes to anyone?” seemed a bit callous.

  Instead she tried to interweave it into general conversation about how they were enjoying the weekend and what aspects they’d enjoyed the most. Somehow she managed to steer that into whether they’d try the recipes again or if they’d share them, or had they already shared them with anybody. It was possibly a bit more discussion than they were expecting at this time of evening, but none of them seemed uncomfortable with chatting about what they’d been up to. In fact, they seemed to welcome the opportunity. So, when Olive got to the essential point, they all said they hadn’t yet, but would do, and that they would encourage as many people as possible to come here if they had the chance.

  It took them off her list of suspects, so she made her excuses and moved on, not that the list was that long or there were many more people to talk to.

  As soon as Olive turned she spotted Helen standing dutifully in the corner. She’d managed to be quite discreet with the guests, but she was going to use a different approach with Helen. In other words, use no tact whatsoever.

  After a polite enquiry as to whether she was okay, Olive went straight in for the kill. ‘Has Pete asked you to give him the Mince Pie recipe?’

  ‘Who’s Pete?’

  It wasn’t quite such a killer question if Helen didn’t even know who she was on about. ‘Has anyone associated with Bottoms Up asked you for the recipe? In fact, has anyone? Has any stranger or person not part of the Gin Shack asked you for details of the ingredients?’

  ‘No, should they have?’ Helen asked as though she’d missed out on something she should have done rather than doing something she shouldn’t have.

  ‘Not to worry,’ Olive said, suddenly feeling guilty that she’d assumed a leopard couldn’t change its spots. She reminded herself the reason she’d given Helen a second chance was because her life had got complicated because of putting family first. She’d got herself in trouble, but for the right reasons. It didn’t change what had happened in the past, but Olive shouldn’t be assuming she would do something like this. ‘Have you had a drink yet?’ Seeing as everyone else had enjoyed a drink today it seemed only fair Helen should be allowed one as well.

  Right then the bell rang, louder than Olive had ever heard it ring before.

  ‘Surely, it’s not closing time already?’ It had been such a long day Olive was beginning to lose all concept of time. It probably was time to lock up, the evening having disappeared before they’d even found out who was responsible.

  ‘Richard’s announcing the winning cocktail.’


  ‘Oh, yes.’ Of course. Olive had forgotten all about it. Although the Gin Shack crew and weekend guests knew the winner, it still needed to be announced to the general public. Her head was swimming a bit to be honest. She’d thought they were going to meet in the kitchen first, but then they might well have done that without her there.

  ‘Everyone, I need your attention.’

  Olive smiled. It seemed Richard was very capable as the landlord and able to draw everyone’s interest just as well as Tony had always done before he’d been poorly.

  ‘Who’s the winner?’ someone heckled.

  ‘Lucas is missing. He’s a young boy, only seven years old, with mousey-blond hair and blue eyes. He was here earlier on, but now he’s disappeared from his home.’ There was panic in Richard’s voice like Olive had never heard before. ‘He’s wearing dark clothing. We’re closing up now so we can help go and look for him.’

  And with that one statement, every inebriated person in the bar became sober.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Never before had there been a mass exodus from a bar in such a compliant and polite fashion. All the jovial chatter was wiped out by concerned mutters about where the young lad might have gone.

  Olive’s instinct was to go to Richard, but he was on the phone, no doubt talking to Skylar, and she would need him by her side. It left the question of who was going to take over and coordinate where everyone was going to look. She certainly couldn’t with the rush of concern pulsing through her. Had she probed enough about things being okay at school? Was there a chance he’d been taken? Panic wove icy fingers around her throat, tightening their grip with every “what if?”.

  Instead of Richard, Olive headed for Tony. He was cool and clear-headed. He’d be able to help her sort out what they were going to do and stop her from panicking. There was no one to blame. They just needed to be level-headed and find him.

  ‘What do you know?’ Olive asked as soon as she reached him, hoping he knew a bit more than she did.