‘I’m not leaving you to it. This is exactly why you shouldn’t be left to it. Don’t you realise how dangerous it is, swimming around in the sea without any lifeguards about? There’s not a soul about to help you if you were to get into trouble. Haven’t you heard of riptides?’
‘Oh, Richard. Don’t be such a worrywart.’
‘Come out right now and I’ll kick the habit in the gut straight away. It’s just someone – naming no names – keeps giving me very just cause for concern.’
‘I’m not coming out. Not unless you get off the beach so I can go and get dressed in privacy.’ Olive didn’t want to risk her son catching sight of her noo-noo. The fact he’d caught her skinny-dipping was bad enough and she was pretty certain she’d already flashed a nipple by accident. That was enough trauma for the pair of them for the day. She wasn’t planning on adding to it.
‘Did you not hear what I just said about it being dangerous? I’m not leaving until I know you’re out safely.’
‘Don’t be such a killjoy. Of course it’s safe. I’ll be walking to the shore. But I won’t be all the time you’re stood there with that towel.’ This was hardly how she’d expected this morning’s protest to go. Richard had said he would be here at nine to make sure she handed the keys over. Trust him to be early.
‘I’m not leaving until I know you’re out safely.’
‘You’re being ridiculous. You’re forty-eight, Richard. No forty-eight-year-old man wants the trauma of seeing his mother naked. Now bugger off and came back when you said you would be here.’
‘Oh, I’m being ridiculous. Says the woman bobbing around in the English Channel without a stitch on, before most people are out of bed. Nothing wrong with that.’
Olive couldn’t work out if it was a hint of sarcasm in his voice or if this was pigeon-gate all over again and she’d finally sent her son over the edge. ‘It really is glorious. You should try it some time.’
It was the wrong thing to say. Olive knew it as soon as Richard chucked the towel on the ground in a rage.
‘I am not going to take up skinny-dipping, Mother, and I would really, really appreciate it if you would just get the hell out.’
At that moment, Olive spotted Skylar arriving at the beach huts and thanked her lucky stars. She didn’t want to enrage her son any more, but there was no way she was changing her mind about coming out starkers in front of him. Even with his promises of having his eyes closed, there were some things that weren’t worth the risk. And as risk assessments went, she was prepared to take the chance of being swallowed up by a riptide over the odds of towel slippage and her son catching a glimpse.
‘Skylar…’ Olive beckoned her friend over, knowing that if someone was there to ensure she didn’t drown herself, she might convince her son to go sit in his car for a bit and return again when she was respectable.
Skylar waved a response and headed over to see why she was being flagged in that direction. Olive admired her friend as she navigated the sandy beach. She was everything Olive would have liked to have been at her age, although with a few too many body piercings for Olive. Skylar rented the beach hut next to Olive’s and it was painted a rich red. Olive always knew when Skylar was there because of the sound of wind chimes and the waft of joss sticks. As she wandered in their direction, Olive wondered if she’d ever get to learn her story. This girl with long skirts and string-vest tops who was simple and complex all at once. She was a walking oxymoron who Olive often wanted to know better, but she was yet to get her to open up.
‘Everything okay?’
Jerked back to the here and now, Olive realised the situation needed a bit of explanation. ‘Ummm, I’m hoping you won’t mind taking over lifeguard duties from Richard. He’s arrived a little earlier than expected. We’re in a bit of a standoff situation to be honest.’
‘Mother…’ There was a visible flush to Richard’s cheeks as he lifted the towel from the sand and shook the grains off. ‘Apologies.’ Richard turned to greet Skylar, a hand outstretched ready for a formal greeting. ‘I’m Richard Turner. I’m just a little concerned about my elderly mother catching pneumonia because she’s refusing to come out with me here. Average morning activities. Nice to meet you.’
‘Skylar, would you be a darling and take over towel duties? Tell Richard to buzz off until nine when we were expecting him and hopefully we can forget this ever happened.’
‘You could just get out, Mother. Save us all from any further embarrassment.’
It saddened Olive that her son saw her like that. An embarrassment to him, although, if she remembered rightly, that was one of the roles parents were supposed to fulfil.
‘Olive, are you naked?’ Skylar laughed at the realisation. A delightful crisp sound that filled the air and set the seagulls off as if returning her call.
‘I most certainly am, darling.’
‘Fantastic. You go, girl!’ Skylar’s face lit with delight and it made Olive immediately less conscious, unlike her son’s reaction.
‘So, would you mind? Take the towel from Richard, get him to disappear, then avert your eyes while I get out.’
‘No problem.’ Skylar attempted to take the towel. ‘You do know she’s not coming out unless you move. I’ll let you know once she is.’
Richard was reluctant to give in. Olive saw it in the steely stare he sent her way, but he handed the towel over all the same, and stomped his way back towards the promenade, briefcase in hand. Never had a man looked more at odds with his surroundings.
Once Richard was off the sands, Skylar turned her attention to Olive with a broad smile playing on her features. ‘Olive Turner. How is it you never cease to surprise me?’
‘I surprise myself some days. I guess at my age you get to the point of not caring. Try telling that to Richard, though.’
‘He didn’t look very impressed.’
‘I think that might be the understatement of the century. I can’t imagine many men would be too happy at finding their mother naked in the sea.’
‘Ha! I very much doubt it happens to many men, to be fair.’
‘Don’t be siding with him now. I’ll never hear the end of this as it is. Time to avert your eyes. This wrinkled prune has wrinkles on her wrinkles. No one needs to see that.’
Skylar straightened out the towel and held it out in front of her, craning her neck round as well as closing her eyes. ‘What I don’t understand is why you couldn’t have got Richard to do this? I’m sure your dignity would have remained intact.’
Making sure Skylar wasn’t going to get a look, Olive stood letting the water drip off her body. The chill against her skin was enough to send shivers to her bones. She really had stayed in there too long. She didn’t like to admit her son was right, but staying in cold water for prolonged periods really wasn’t something she should be doing. ‘I didn’t want to risk it.’ It wasn’t just a case of a mother not wanting to risk her son seeing her in the nude. Laced on her skin, she knew, were memories of the past. Scars she kept covered because of the reminders they provided. There was a reason she kept those marks hidden from him. There was a reason diving into the sea with no clothes on was so wild and freeing.
When Olive reached Skylar, she wrapped the towel round tight, hiding any signs of the mark on her side. Her body shivered against the brutal breeze the English Channel was dishing out.
‘You’re freezing, Olive. You need more than that towel to get you warm. How long have you been in there?’ Skylar placed an arm round her shoulder, leading her towards their beach huts. She wanted to answer, but her teeth were chattering uncontrollably and it was impossible to form words.
Fortunately her friend was one of the most resourceful people she knew. Soon Olive was ensconced in blankets with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands, warming up by her gas heater.
‘I know you don’t want me siding with your son, Olive, but you really can’t be letting yourself get that cold. It won’t do you any good at all.’<
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‘Don’t say “at your age”, please.’ Olive had recovered enough to form sentences, but wasn’t quite ready for a lecture while still faced with the prospect of trying to prevent her son from insisting she stop renting her beach hut.
‘You know I’d never say that to you.’
Olive and Skylar had had many conversations about how Olive didn’t feel her age and how going into retirement quarters made her feel a fraudster, but then she’d had her wake-up call. She wasn’t infallible. However much she didn’t want it to, age was catching up with her. As a result, the desire to live alone had left her, and while she’d much rather be one of those ladies who spent their last days on cruise liners flirting with waiters young enough to be their sons and never lifting a finger to do domestic chores again, sadly, this move wasn’t going to be as luxurious as all that. It was more about practicalities. Richard wanted her to be contained so he’d know she was being cared for in his absence, and although he didn’t need to know why, these days she was inclined to agree.
‘Good. Because we have a beach-hut tenancy to save.’
‘Exactly. Because I’m not sure I could cope without you about to babysit Lucas. Among other things, of course.’
‘You’d miss the bacon sandwiches, wouldn’t you? Which, thinking about it, I best get cracking on with.’ Olive started to move, the shivers having settled.
‘I’ll let you get changed.’ Skylar moved from her position leaning against the counter.
‘It won’t take a minute. Pop back when you can smell breakfast.’ It wouldn’t be long before the others started to join them and it had become a bit of a tradition for them to take turns in making each other bacon sarnies whenever there was more than one of them about at a time. Olive most enjoyed cooking for the kids: Skylar’s son, Lucas, and the three Salter lads, all in their late teens and turning into fine young men. It was a joy watching them grow up with their wakeboards and kites. She wouldn’t miss the four walls of her house, but she would miss this; the community she’d found herself part of.
Tunic, trousers and bulky bangles secured firmly back in place, Olive set to work creating a feast for all the guests she was expecting. She’d even be gracious enough to make Richard some when he returned. Although the trauma of catching her in the nuddy might be enough to turn him away for ever.
Once everyone had gathered, the air was filled with the pleasant buzz of chatter and laughter Olive was used to. Each of the six beach huts had their doors flung open and deckchairs gathered round as Olive made sure the central table was supplied with rounds of bacon sandwiches and freshly buttered toast. The only person missing was Skylar’s son, Lucas. He was at Westbrook Junior’s breakfast club and Olive was pretty sure he’d much rather be here.
The two middle beach huts were occupied by one family – the Salters. Tony and Esme occupied the hut next to Skylar with their three sons and all their equipment took up the space in the other. Next to the boys was Paul the fisherman. He was the quietest of the bunch and had taken longer to come out of his shell, but it turned out bacon was the way to the heart of even the hardiest soul. In the last of this row of six huts were Mark and Lily, an adorable young married couple with a gorgeous chocolate Labrador, Button, that Olive was entirely in love with. In fact, Button lived a lavish life with all of the beach-hut tenants doting on him.
It meant everything to her that all her friends were here. All of them had their own lives to get on with. They didn’t need to be here to support her, but as soon as the suggestion had come up they’d all volunteered to be here. That was a true representation of what family should be.
Having created enough bacon sarnies to feed a small army, Olive joined the rest of them and relaxed into her deckchair.
‘Where has this son of yours got to then?’ Tony asked, helping himself to another sandwich as he did.
The only figures on the long stretch of beach were Tony’s three sons playing a rudimentary form of cricket, Esme having already shouted at them not to ruin their clothes before college.
‘There’s a chance I might have scarred him for life and he may not return.’
Skylar laughed, the only person present who knew what Olive was referring to.
‘Oh, and how’s that?’ Esme asked, copying her husband in collecting another sandwich.
‘Richard caught Olive skinny-dipping this morning. I had to come to her rescue because she was refusing to get out.’
‘Olive…’ Esme’s eyes bulged for a second.
‘Nobody was ever supposed to catch me at it. Least of all my son.’
Button, clearly running out of scrap supplies, decided to bound onto the beach to join the boys.
‘Always knew you were a minx,’ Lily said, as she got up to follow the dog, Mark in turn following them both. Mark was as much of a puppy as the dog.
‘Am not,’ Olive shouted. ‘Don’t go telling everyone about this. I don’t want it to become a spectator sport.’
‘We won’t tell anyone, don’t you worry.’ Tony looked round for the group to support his statement.
Skylar did a Girl Guide salute. Esme nodded. Paul blushed.
‘Good.’ Olive was relieved to think no one else would know about her hobby. Especially as it might be a while before she braved a dip again.
‘It is good.’ The sound of Richard’s voice saw everyone turn their heads in his direction. ‘Because we don’t need you carrying on like that any more.’
Olive wondered where the royal “we” came in. They were her friends, not his. It was him who didn’t want her carrying on. ‘Good morning, Richard. Perhaps we can start off on a better foot now I have my clothes on.’
Skylar stifled a snigger, and catching a glimpse of her out the corner of her eye made Olive smile too broadly, considering she was trying to be serious.
‘Good morning, Mother. Is everything packed up? Do we need to do anything or are you ready?’
‘Yes, everything from the house is packed up. You’ll need to go through some stuff to see if you want it, but I’m sure house removals can deal with the rest of that.’ Richard’s visit was for the purpose of moving her into the Oakley West Retirement Quarters. It was a very odd concept to be moving an entire lifetime of memories from a four-bedroom house to a single room. But it turned out Olive wasn’t very attached to the past. It hadn’t been very nice to her all told, so she was more than happy to say goodbye to half the rubbish that had gathered over the years. The only piece of furniture she was attached to was the ottoman and that was safe here at her beach hut. At least she hoped so.
‘What about the beach hut? Is that all packed up?’ Richard asked.
The silence that followed was electric. It drew all the beach-hut residents to the conversation like atoms drawn to a charge.
‘I’m not packing up the beach hut because I’m not leaving.’ Olive’s voice sounded stronger than she felt.
Richard sighed in a way that might have caused smoke to puff from his nostrils if he’d been another species. ‘We talked about this.’
‘No. We never talked. You told me how it was going to be and expected me to agree to everything.’
‘Yes, because it’s in your best interest.’
‘Sandwich?’ Tony grabbed a platter from the table and offered them to Richard. ‘This lot have brown sauce. The better choice if you ask me, but there’s Tommy K as well if you prefer.’ Tony waved the plate a little as if he was trying to tempt Button, not that the dog needed much tempting. ‘They’re your mother’s speciality. Take a seat and have a sandwich and maybe I can introduce everyone.’
Olive was very appreciative of Tony’s actions. He was doing his best to disperse the charge gathering around them.
‘My apologies. I didn’t mean to come across so brashly, but as you’ve been discussing, I’ve had a bit of a shock this morning and I’m more than a little concerned for my mother’s welfare.’
‘Have a sandwich? Guaranteed to make you fee
l better.’ Tony waved the plate in Richard’s direction again.
At long last Richard took a sandwich and found a seat next to Skylar.
‘While you eat that, let me introduce everyone.’ Tony went round the entire group naming each individual and filling Richard in on which beach hut belonged to whom. ‘And the thing is, Olive is part of our gang. We’re a community, it wouldn’t be the same without her.’
Richard nodded and the cogs of his thinking process were almost visible. ‘I appreciate that you’re all friends with my mum, and I don’t want you to think I’m an overly interfering relative, but my concerns aren’t for when other people are here. It’s the fact she comes here before the crack of dawn with only crabs and winkles for company. However much I don’t want to say it, it needs pointing out that she’s not the spring chicken she thinks she is. This morning proves she’s taking too many risks. I’d be an irresponsible son if I didn’t do everything I could to ensure her safety.’
Having given his reasoned argument in typical lawyer style, Richard helped himself to another sandwich. For a moment, Olive saw the words sinking in with her friends and the thought he might be right was a scary one. She didn’t want to think she might be losing part of her identity by growing old. She didn’t think age should define a person and she wasn’t about to let it if she had her way.
‘It was a bit risky,’ Skylar said, reluctance evident in the quietness of her words.
‘Walking down the road is risky,’ Paul piped up. ‘At least Olive is doing something she enjoys.’
‘I know. Life is full of risk and it’s all relative, but I don’t want to be the one who gets the phone call telling him his mother has drowned.’
‘Look…’ There was a fire lighting in Olive’s belly and she needed to let it out. ‘I am here, you know, and don’t you think, as I’m nearer to death than any of the rest of you, that I should be the one who says how I spend my last years. And it might be the most selfish thing in all the world, but I think the idea of the ocean swallowing me up sounds rather delicious. I’m not going to let the risks of everyday life stop me from coming to the place I love.’
The Gin Shack on the Beach Page 2
