‘No. Not even your mum.’ Olive wanted to add something about that being what grandmas were for – that and dishing out too many sweeties – but the title hadn’t been bestowed on her yet.
‘It’s my fault. It’s my fault the recipe got copied.’
Olive took a second to work out what Lucas was on about. Of all the things she expected him to possibly say, the Mince Pie cocktail recipe being copied wasn’t one of them. ‘How could it ever be your fault?’ Olive didn’t understand how Lucas thought he was responsible for such a thing.
‘Because Pete asked me if I knew.’
Olive took a shallow breath, not quite able to catch the air around her. Of all the things for a father to ask his son to go and do, to make him a pawn in some kind of game. ‘It’s not your fault. You weren’t to know why he wanted it.’
‘But that’s not all.’
Olive was suddenly feeling weak and had to fight an overwhelming urge to cry. How much damage was a man able to do with five minutes of interaction? ‘You can tell me,’ she said, struggling to focus on his features.
‘You might hate me.’
‘I will never ever ever hate you.’ Olive realised as well that she really needed to let Skylar and Richard know Lucas was okay, so she did that thing she hated to see parents doing, and that was engage with their phone when they should be engaging with their child. But these really were exceptional circumstances.
Olive typed the quickest message ever: Lucas is okay. We’re at my hut.
‘Are you sure?’ Lucas said, once he had her attention again.
‘Dear boy, if you hadn’t realised, I love your mother as much as if she were my own child, and that makes you my grandson. And a grandmother would never hate her grandchild. No matter what.’ Even if it wasn’t her official title, she was going to adopt it herself. Admittedly she should get some kind of prior approval, but some days all the rules were made to be broken. Sometimes waiting until it was the polite thing to do was the opposite of what life required. For a long time now, Olive should have realised it was okay to spread her broken wing to embrace the new family she had. Not in that polite British way where nodding in the right places did the job. She should have done it in that bear-hugging, fully embracing way that showed this boy exactly how much she cared. He shouldn’t be lying on the floor of her hut as a middle-of-the-night runaway, not knowing how much he was loved and cared for. He should know that they all loved and cared for him as if he were theirs. She would make sure he did every day from now on.
‘Pete asked me to put those bits of brown streamer on your sign. He said it was a joke.’ Lucas tucked his head into a towel.
None of this was making sense in that moment. The streamers had been weeks ago, but Lucas and Pete had only just met. How could that be anything to do with Lucas? ‘When? When did he ask you to do those things?’
An icy chill passed through Olive and she couldn’t tell if it was the actual wind or the realisation that Pete must have had more contact with his son than his allocated five minutes.
‘He told me he was Mummy’s friend, that the Bottom place was a surprise for her. That I wasn’t to tell her.’
It was hard to breathe knowing this had happened, Olive just didn’t understand how. ‘Where did he talk to you?’
‘When Mummy sent me to take rubbish to the bins. He told me it was a special surprise for Mummy and I was just helping out.’
Olive’s body was already freezing and yet this sent her cold again, putting her somewhere below subzero. ‘Oh, Lucas.’ She could cry on his behalf.
‘You hate me, don’t you?’
The only person Olive was angry at was Pete. What a way to manipulate a boy and what a lot of anguish it had now caused. Everything about it was so wrong and underhand. No wonder Olive had felt uneasy for weeks with all this happening under their noses.
The industrial bins were right by the old café and only a short walk from their huts. Who would have thought that letting Lucas put ice-cream wrappers in there would create such problems when he’d not even been out of sight. Pete was obviously an opportunist who’d used the occasions entirely to his advantage.
‘Oh my, sweetpea. He should never have asked you to do that. He shouldn’t have done any of those things. Nobody hates you. None of this is your fault.’
Olive didn’t like to think about the number of times those pieces of paper might have been discussed in front of Lucas. And to top it off, now their “winning” recipe, the one they’d worked for weeks on creating, was being ruined because Pete had copied it from the information he’d gleaned from his son. No wonder Lucas was convinced everyone would hate him and the only solution was to run away.
‘I’m sorry.’ Lucas peeked out, perhaps more at ease now he knew she wasn’t angry.
‘You have absolutely nothing to apologise for. Now come and give your grandma a hug.’ It was hard to know what to say. How did you explain to a child that they’d been manipulated for someone else’s benefit? Skylar hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d described those parts of Pete’s personality. All she was able to do, along with everyone else, was ensure it never happened again.
Lucas put his arm round her and gave her a hug. ‘Shall we go home?’
It sounded like the best idea ever. There was just one problem. ‘I don’t think I can get up.’
The doors gushed open, adding an unnatural level of light to the darkness they’d been in and bringing with it a drift of snowflakes. Christmas had arrived early.
‘My darling boy.’ Skylar was down on her knees with Lucas in her arms before a beat of time passed. ‘I love you so much.’
And even if Skylar might have wanted to say don’t ever do that again, now wasn’t the time for teaching lessons. Now was time for the unprecedented gush of love in knowing Lucas was alive.
‘Are you okay? You’re bleeding?’ There was a new edge of panic in Skylar’s voice.
‘I’m okay.’ Lucas looked at the blood on his hand. ‘It’s Grandma. Olive has hurt herself.’
It was funny how the mind was able to switch sensations off when it had more important things to concentrate on. Fight or flight, that’s what they called it, wasn’t it? Because up until that moment, Olive had ignored what was happening with her. All that had mattered was that Lucas was okay and that he hadn’t been subjected to anything terrible.
But now he was okay, now he was safe, the throbbing pain came in abundance, and when she touched her head it became clear what the problem was. Because the crack she’d heard had been her skull and, all at once, the lights went out.
Chapter Forty
‘Custard.’
‘Pardon?’ Richard gave Olive a look full of concern.
‘Custard. It’s the perfect solution.’ Olive wanted to get to it now. There was still time to change the recipe.
‘Rest back, Mum. You can’t just get up. Nurse, she’s awake.’
It should perhaps have been quite disconcerting for Olive to wake up in an entirely different place to the one where she’d lost consciousness, but she’d woken up with great clarity. Yes, she’d had a knock to the head. Yes, she’d ended up in hospital. But what was a mince pie without custard? She hadn’t been adventurous enough with the recipe in the first place. If they tweaked a few elements it would still be a mince-pie recipe, but one on an entirely different level.
‘What day is it?’ It was all very well having these bright ideas, but they wouldn’t be much good if she was coming out of a three-month coma.
‘It’s Sunday morning,’ Richard said, looking like he didn’t have a clue if his mother’s knock on the head had knocked all the stuffing out of her once and for all.
‘So I found Lucas last night?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the judging hasn’t happened yet?’
‘Yes.’
‘And we haven’t been disqualified?’
‘Nobody’s been disqualified. Are you quite all right?’
‘I’ve never been be
tter. How are Skylar and Lucas? Why aren’t you with them?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe because my mother was so busy being a hero she managed to knock herself out?’
‘Do you have a pen and paper?’
‘What for? You should be resting.’
‘I didn’t ask to leave, did I? Have you got some or not?’ Olive wanted to write the recipe down while the idea was clear in her head. She had given it a whack after all. It might just be down to the concussion that she’d had such a good idea, so it was better to write it down in case she forgot it.
‘Here you go.’ The nurse Richard had called over was kind enough to lend pen and paper as she started to check Olive over.
As the nurse did things like record Olive’s blood pressure and pulse, she managed to scribble ingredients on the piece of paper. ‘This is it. This is the winning cocktail.’
‘That’s great, Mum, but I’m not running off making drinks while you’re in here. We just have to admit defeat. We can enter other competitions. I’m sure there’ll be one next year.’
‘Have you had any sleep?’ Olive had never seen Richard look so tired. There were hoodwinks on his hoodwinks.
‘Not much.’
‘Well, I’ve had my best night’s rest for a long time and I’m telling you now is not the time to give up. The toughest moments in your life are the points at which you should strive the hardest.’ Being knocked out had obviously made Olive all philosophical, but if her son wasn’t able to see there should never be a point where the A-holes win, then she was going to have to point it out to him. ‘Helen knows all about the mince-pie gin and what was involved. She’ll be able to try out this recipe and see if it’s any good. Get Tony and Esme to pick this up and get it to the Gin Shack. They can try it and have it ready for when the judges arrive. It’s not too late.’
Richard sighed. Like everything was too much at the moment.
‘And call Skylar. Tell her I’m fine and you’ll be with her as soon as possible.’
‘I can’t just leave you.’
‘I’m fine. Go and be with the woman and boy who need you. They’ve had a much tougher twenty-four hours than I have.’
Richard gave up arguing and nodded.
‘And Richard…’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you ask her to marry you before your mother knocks herself out for good?’ Bugger it. Olive had always said she wasn’t going to be the interfering type, but this was all part of the bear-hugging, say-how-you-feel kind of approach she was going for.
‘Who said I hadn’t already?’ Richard gave the coyest of smiles and had his mother lost for words for once.
‘Have you?’ It was possibly the most high-pitched Olive had ever been in her life.
‘Who knows? But I’m sure you’ll be the first person we tell when, and if, I do.’
‘There’ll be no ifs about it.’
‘If you say so. Now, is there anything else I can do for you before I go?’
‘Yes. Make sure they discharge me as soon as possible. I need to be out by our Sunday afternoon picnic.’ Next Sunday would be their last get-together and, as it fell on Christmas Eve, she needed to be there.
‘Why? What have you got planned, Mother?’
‘Would you believe me if I told you what I’m about to ask is down to the head injury?’
‘Not in the slightest. Now what is it you want?’
‘I’ve got you down to play Santa Claus. Is that okay?’
Richard laughed. ‘I don’t know, Mother. There I was thinking knocking yourself out might slow you down.’
‘No chance.’ After all, life was for living.
Chapter Forty-One
Being in hospital wasn’t such a bad thing after all. They wouldn’t let her out that day, Olive having been unconscious for such a long period of time, but were keeping her in for observation.
None of the medical staff believed her when she kept telling them she’d just needed a bloody good rest. Apparently, when one required twelve stitches and had a black eye as a result of a fall, they tended to take things a bit more seriously.
Olive did honestly feel fine, though. She didn’t look so great with the beautiful colour scheme of bruising that was coming out, but ignoring that, she was in good form. She’d not broken any bones. There was no fractured skull. She was as ambulatory as usual and she’d not fallen because she’d had some kind of funny turn. It was because she’d tripped over a boy lying on the floor in the dark. If it had been Esme or Tony or any of the others, they would have gone flying just the same, only possibly without quite such a hard landing, their reactions being that much quicker.
During visiting hours that first afternoon, Olive had one visitor. It was a surprise guest to say the least and bringing quite the surprise with her.
‘Don’t tell anyone what’s actually in there,’ Helen said when she passed her a drink in a sports bottle. ‘It’s a milkshake,’ she said, with a wink.
‘How did it get on?’ Olive was really going to enjoy it when she got the chance.
‘Oh, sorry, I mean it’s a winning milkshake.’
‘Really? We won?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Helen confirmed. ‘Of course. Good always triumphs over evil.’
It was one of those serendipitous moments. The woman who’d once made her life miserable was now the one bringing her the good news about the Gin Shack. And she was no longer the woman she’d once been. She was very swiftly becoming Olive’s friend. It was a good philosophy to have in life… anyone prepared to smuggle contraband into the hospital should automatically gain friend status. Heck, seeing as it was award-winning cocktails, it might even gain her entry to the friends for life category.
Chapter Forty-Two
From her hospital bed, Olive must have nearly broken Messenger with the amount of instructions she was sending out in the run-up to Christmas Eve. She hadn’t spent so long looking forward to something for it all to go tits-up because she’d knocked herself out.
So, as they were a crew, she made sure teamwork was put into action. It really didn’t require that much in terms of what everyone had to do. Mostly they had to say yes and go and collect their items from Richard.
The main person who had to do her bidding was Richard. He had to go to Oakley West and transport everything she’d been preparing. Then he had to allocate everyone their outfits, all the while trying to keep it from Skylar and Lucas.
The only person Olive wasn’t contacting as much was her daughter-in-law. Okay, she was getting a bit ahead of herself, but, gosh, if a girl couldn’t dream at her age then what else was there to do? She’d been sending messages of support, of course, and Skylar had been to visit with Lucas, but there had been no communication about the secret mission, seeing as they were the people they were all out to surprise.
When Olive was discharged on Christmas Eve Eve, she almost did the first side kick of her life. She would have done if the risk of her getting herself readmitted wasn’t so high. However wonderful the NHS staff had been, she didn’t want to spend Christmas with them when she had a much better offer.
The following day, half an hour before they would normally all meet up, Richard met her at Oakley West. She didn’t feel up to trying out her Segway just yet. Even though she was fine, she didn’t want to give herself another knock this side of Christmas.
When she met Richard in the middle of the foyer, the pair of them got a round of applause from the Oakley West residents waiting there. It must have been the first time Mr and Mrs Claus had been seen in daylight hours. When the two reindeers joined them, who rather ridiculously had both made up their Segways to look like sleighs, the surprise made Olive laugh. If there was one thing she always encouraged – and it seemed all her friends had embraced the motto – it was in for a penny, in for a pound. She just hoped they went carefully.
So with Randy as Rudolph, and Veronica as Rudolph’s wife, they waltzed all the way to the beach huts like they were running their very own carnival. And wh
en they arrived everyone else was there dressed in all their finery.
The elves, the snowmen, the reindeer. They were no longer just the statues lined up outside the gin grottos, but real-life animations of what had been on their porches for the last few weeks.
As asked, Richard had stashed all the presents in Olive’s beach hut and set it up like a full-on Santa’s grotto.
‘Places everyone. They’re on their way,’ Richard said to everyone.
At the top of the slope were three people. Skylar and Lucas, both with blindfolds on, and Helen in between them, linking their arms, leading them carefully down towards the gin grottos. Although today they were no longer dishing out gin, but instead were proper Santa grottos for a mum and her boy who deserved to know there was good in the world. And even on the days the world wasn’t playing fair, they’d always find safe harbour in Westbrook Bay. They’d had more than their fair share of upset with the foul play that had taken place, but they would all make sure nothing like that happened again.
‘Take your place then, Richard.’ There was a tinsel-blinged-up deckchair waiting for Santa to come and do his job.
‘No way,’ Richard said. ‘You haven’t done all this hard work for me to take the glory. Besides, you know who all the presents are for.’
‘I put labels on all of them. It doesn’t take me to read them.’
‘Yes, but you brought them. And it’s a PC world. It’s only fitting that at some point the job of Santa Claus should go to a woman.’
Olive was going to have a pretty tough time growing a beard, but she agreed with the sentiment. The concept of Santa was about giving after all.
‘Now sit down. They’re nearly here.’
With that, Olive took up residence in the special festive chair and got ready to dish out presents.
When their blindfolds were lifted, there were lots of exclamations of awesome from Lucas.
‘Richard, you didn’t have to do this.’ Skylar hugged Richard and wiped a tear from her eye by the looks of things.
‘This wasn’t me. Mrs Claus has been planning this for weeks. I only had to get involved because she managed to knock herself out.
Christmas at the Gin Shack Page 23