They glanced at each other like the co-conspirators they were. She would actually have to disown her son if there was anything going on between them. If children were able to divorce parents, surely it could be arranged the other way round? How had it ever come to this?
‘We’re worried about you,’ Richard said.
‘We? She’s not worried about me in the least. She’s only worried about saving face. Has she shown you the paper? I am not her prisoner and she cannot dictate what I do with my time. And nor can you.’ Olive sensed rather than saw that at least one of her friends had got up to stand with her. It gave her comfort. It wasn’t just herself and her own selfish wants she was protecting, it was the hopes and dreams of everyone here.
‘It’s quite clear to me that if the first thing that happens when I walk in here is that I get barred, then clearly there is something to hide,’ Matron piped up. ‘There was no good reason for that kind of action otherwise. It would be irresponsible of me not to look into why it was decided I should be banned from the premises. I can only assume it’s because you’re up to something illegal again.’
Any respect Olive might have had for Matron was gone, what with this and her using Richard as a bartering tool. ‘You do realise you aren’t running a care home. We live in retirement quarters. We are not in need of your constant attention and the sooner you realise that, the sooner everyone will be happier. You shouldn’t be interfering here and how dare you accuse us of trying to do something illegal. Last time was a mistake. We didn’t realise it was wrong, but maybe that was a blessing. If we’d just carried on with our weekly meet-ups at my beach hut, this bar might never have happened. We would never have been forced to find another way for our club to meet up. Instead, soon we’ll be welcoming our first international guests.’ Okay, so, admittedly, Olive had no idea if the enthusiasts from Japan were ever going to turn up, but she was trying to make a point.
‘Everything seems to be in order,’ Neil said, interrupting Olive’s soapbox moment. ‘Tony’s got all the permissions he needs from the council. They’re aware of the club aspect and everything is above board.’
This wasn’t news to Olive or any of the others. The information was for Matron and Richard.
‘They’ve got to have cocked something up,’ Matron said. She was obviously flustered if she was losing her professional edge.
‘No. Nothing. I think it’s time you left. Seeing as you are barred and that still stands.’ Neil ushered Matron away from Olive, aware that tensions in the room were particularly high.
‘I’ve a good mind to start barring residents. I won’t put up with being talked to like this.’
‘Who’s going to pay the extortionate fees then? Especially after all the media coverage,’ Richard said, glancing at Olive.
It was a flicker of a look, but it told Olive he was on her side and it was enough to give her some hope that Richard wasn’t as bad as all this was making him seem. With the beach hut and now this, it was hard to believe he was her son, but that one glance gave her a glimmer of hope.
‘There’s a waiting list, you know,’ Matron hollered.
‘I’m not going back.’ Olive said it before she had chance to think it through.
‘Mother…’ Richard said, trying to stop her in her tracks.
Maybe Olive had imagined the hope after all.
‘No. I am not going back. All the time this woman is in charge, I refuse to go back to Oakley West. And I’m not letting you continue to deal with my affairs in such a heavy-handed fashion. If I choose not to go back, that’s up to me. Sorry, guys.’ Olive turned to apologise to Randy and Veronica, but it turned out they were standing practically shoulder to shoulder with her.
‘Me neither,’ Randy said. ‘I’ve never observed such terrible behaviour in my life. It’s quite appalling. I think, Olive, while the police are here, it’s worth reporting the theft of gin from your room at Oakley West. I’m sure they’ll want to look into if the problem is in fact bigger.’
‘I’m not standing here and listening to this. I’ve never heard such awful accusations. I won’t have being passionate about my job and the people in my care turned into anything else.’ True to her word, Matron left as quickly as her legs would take her.
‘Not wanting to tell you your jobs, but I’d follow her before she gets rid of any evidence. If she’s taken property off one resident she’s bound to have done it with others, and who knows what she’s been up to,’ Randy said.
Olive really hoped there wasn’t more to Matron’s hoard. What a horrible thought that someone claiming to be looking after their interests might in fact be preying on those more vulnerable than themselves.
Listening to Randy’s advice, the two police officers followed Matron down the road in their squad car, so that if she was rushing off to hide anything, they’d be there in time to prevent that from happening.
‘You lot can stay here if you’re not planning on going back to Oakley West. I’ll need to give the rooms a bit of a clean and put linen on the beds, but the rooms themselves are pleasant enough. They’re suitable until we sort out what’s happening.’
‘Thank you, Tony. I’ll happily accept the offer,’ Olive said. She’d not even thought about where she was going to stay when she’d blurted out she wasn’t going to go back. But she didn’t regret having said it in the slightest. When she’d moved to Oakley West it had been to make her life more comfortable and her son’s life easier. She’d not thought for a moment they would try to dictate her entire life. And there was no way of denying that her son was imposing sanctions on her that shouldn’t exist. That couldn’t continue and if the only way for that to happen was leaving and upsetting her son, then so be it. ‘I think I need to go out for a walk and have a talk with Richard.’ It would no doubt end up as an argument, but there was a lot that needed to be said. The way Richard had treated her of late couldn’t continue.
‘You do that.’ Tony squeezed her elbow. ‘We’ll make sure everything’s ready for when you get back.’
‘Thank you.’ Olive wanted to give him a hug, but it didn’t seem appropriate. Anyone would think he was her son the way he looked after her. There wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t tense. It had reached inside and grabbed her bones, making her muscles rigid, and all at once she was reminded of the teabag. Of how she wasn’t a young girl any more. Of how single moments could change lives in their entirety. And she knew how a single moment had ripped her family apart, and that, despite a lifetime, she’d never managed to heal those wounds.
‘The Daily Mail still want to know if you’re happy for an interview. They’ve already sent a reporter,’ TJ said.
Olive found herself again and walked towards the door, hoping Richard would follow. The phone had never been disconnected. She hated to think what their national headline would be after that exchange. But for now all she needed to worry about was what to say to her son and whether they could ever build a bridge over the divide between them. Because with every year it seemed to grow wider and she had no idea if there was any way of fixing a scar that had ingrained itself so deeply.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The tide was in as they walked along the promenade. Richard had caught up with Olive and they were strolling in silence. The weather was painting the sky grey and the seaweed gave the sea murky depths of dark green. The summer months had been kind, but now September was drawing close, the seasons were beginning to shift. There was talk of an Indian summer, but Olive was pretty sure she’d heard that term every year she’d been alive. She would like more sunshine this year. She missed the beach. She’d been so busy with The Gin Shack and, without having her beach hut, she hadn’t spent half as much time on the sands as she normally would.
For some considerable time they walked without saying anything. They continued along to Westbrook Bay where there was always a small amount of beach on offer, even when the tide was in. It was empty of sunbathers today and instead it was the dog-walk
ers who were happy to clomp along the sand in their wellies.
Olive had so much to say to her son and yet she didn’t know where to start. He’d been clipping her wings for too long and it needed to stop. She needed him to realise she was far more capable than he was giving her credit for. But how to convey that without causing upset?
‘Cup of tea, Mum?’ Richard offered as they approached the café.
‘I’d love one,’ she said. It wasn’t the time to make a joke about how she’d prefer a G&T at The Gin Shack. It was better they were on neutral ground and at least one of them had spoken at long last. Because they needed to talk. The problem was, Olive refused to discuss what had happened. There were some things so unsettling no one needed to hear the details, especially someone involved, but with no recollection of it. If Richard’s body and brain had decided he didn’t need to recall those events, it was her job to continue to safeguard him.
‘Your sister would love The Gin Shack.’ Olive said it absent-mindedly when Richard returned to their outside seats with two teas. It was the worst thing to say. The words “if she were alive” hung in the air like wasps waiting to sting. No amount of wafting them away would guarantee they were safe from them.
‘We don’t know that for certain. We’ll never know.’ Richard served up hot tea with his cold response.
Olive stared at the Styrofoam cup. ‘She was my daughter, Richard. She might not have made it to adult life, but I like to think I knew her well enough to know what she would and wouldn’t have enjoyed.’ The grief was still a ball in her chest. Never moving, it was a feeling she’d learned to live with rather than it having gone away. Some days they lived in harmony, on others she had to tiptoe round it, knowing it was raw with the weight of its existence.
She stared at the white edges of the cup, a small drop of hot water clinging to the rim. She concentrated on nothing but that drop until she knew she was safe from the drops she’d felt forming.
‘I’m sorry, Mum, but this isn’t about my sister. This is about what’s happening now. Your involvement with The Gin Shack aside, you can’t just up and leave Oakley West.’ Richard picked his cup up and blew at the molten hot tea within.
It was about his sister. There were times Olive thought everything boiled down to the day she’d lost a husband and a daughter. That the relationship and interactions she’d had with her son bore the scars of that day, and that they would never get past it when it was always such a closed subject. ‘It is about Jane. It is about your sister and your father. It always has been.’ The words glided gently through the air as if they were being lifted by the wind and guided to another realm. They were ethereal and, with them, it was almost possible to hear the opening of wounds. It shouldn’t have become such a closed subject. It had become the white elephant in the room they were never able to discuss.
‘Do we have to do this now?’ Richard’s response was defensive, but it was clear he was hurting. That maybe his wounds were so much bigger than her own.
‘Richard, if we spend any longer avoiding the subject there’s every chance we might never get past it.’ Olive paused. She’d always thought it was her who was closed to discussing their deaths, but clearly it was painful for both of them. Of course it was. ‘It’s the reason you don’t drink, isn’t it?’
Richard turned away so his expression was hidden.
It confirmed what Olive had always suspected. ‘How did you find out?’
Her son sighed in that deep and meaningful way that can only come with regret. ‘When you refused to tell me, it wasn’t hard to discover what happened. When I was old enough I learned to go through the library newspaper articles.’
‘So you know what went on?’ The papers would have told him the facts. It wouldn’t have given him details. The cacophony of moments she was able to recall so easily. Facts were kinder than details.
‘I knew enough to stop asking questions. I knew there must be reasons you didn’t wish to talk about it.’ Richard took a sip from his cup.
‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why are we only talking about this now?’ It was amazing how a month and then a year and then a decade could pass by while skirting around the edges of what was important. Ignoring the things that needed to be said.
‘Because I knew it would be upsetting. You were trying to protect me and, because of stubbornness, I went against those wishes. I should have known there were reasons why you didn’t want to tell me.’ Richard placed a hand over hers and Olive realised she was trembling.
But it wasn’t through fear, it was through relief. It was the realisation that, if he knew the facts, she didn’t have to be the one to tell him. ‘I’m still not going to talk about it. If you’ve read the newspaper clippings you’ll understand why.’
Richard’s grip became tighter, reassuring Olive it was okay. ‘I would never expect you to, Mum. That’s why I don’t talk about it. Because I don’t want you to feel you should ever have to.’
Olive steadied herself with a glance at the ocean. Her head was swimming with the ways in which they’d tried to protect each other, but somehow missed the mark of being there for one another. She took a sip of tea before speaking and decided it would definitely be more preferable if it was gin. ‘I think it’s important that you realise I still want to talk about them. They may have been gone for over forty years, but that doesn’t stop me thinking about them every day. Do you want to know how The Gin Shack came about?’
It was a rhetorical question so Olive continued.
‘You’ll have been too young to remember, but your father always used to buy me different gins as gifts. We’d have one every evening before bed and I’ve never stopped that ritual, although these days it’s as a toast to your father and sister. I’ve always done it in private. I know whatever details you read in those newspaper reports have made you see alcohol differently, but The Gin Shack isn’t about getting drunk. It’s about savouring a moment.’
It was strange to think that somehow The Gin Shack was, in a roundabout way, providing a legacy for her husband. And she was certain, if her daughter were still alive, she’d be frequenting the bar as well. But those parts of her family were gone. These days she had a new version of family made up of mismatched parts. She just needed her son to realise he was the most important piece. He always would be.
‘I wish you’d told me about The Gin Shack. I wish we’d talked about everything a long time ago.’
‘At least we have now.’ Olive’s shakes had settled down and, for the first time in a long while, she felt relief. The white elephant was exiting the room and should never have been there in the first place. There was one thing she did need to know, though. ‘Did you get the police involved?’
Despite the new calm settled around them, Olive needed to know Richard’s level of involvement.
‘Let me be very clear – I had nothing to do with that. Matron called them in as soon as I mentioned that I wasn’t sure on the correct licensing. I just tagged along in case anyone did get into trouble and needed legal help. And to see you. The purpose of my coming here is generally to visit you at Oakley West, not to find you involved with running a gin bar.’
‘Isn’t it great?’ There was no way Olive was able to suppress her excitement and enthusiasm about the place. And even though the past was still a static charge around them, it was important to embrace the things that mattered.
‘It’s impressive. It looks like it belongs in London rather than Westbrook. Don’t worry. I read all about what my mother has been up to on the tube this morning. Bit of a shock to look up and see your mother staring at you from the front page of the Metro. I had to ask the guy reading it if he minded me taking a look.’ There was a smirk on Richard’s face and there was every possibility he wasn’t mad at her. There was every possibility that their open wounds were already beginning to heal.
‘That must have been awkward. I know how you London commuters don’t like to talk to each other.’
�
��I think the whole carriage wanted to know what was going on when I told him why you were on the front cover. Don’t be surprised if they all turn up and want to meet you.’ Richard grinned and shook his head. ‘I have to say, Mother, some days you really are something else. Most normal people don’t manage to turn what they call their “little hobby” into national news.’
Olive stopped staring at the cup and picked it up instead. ‘Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would become a business, let alone the whole thing becoming national news.’ She’d imagined a small “and in happier news”-type article in the local rag. Nothing more. It was great for Tony and The Gin Shack, but it wasn’t working out quite so well for Olive.
‘Has it really been that bad at Oakley West?’ Richard asked.
The press had made them sound unfairly mistreated. Not that what they’d said had been wrong, it just didn’t shed a very good light on the place. Olive turned cold thinking about how Matron was treating them all. ‘It’s not the prison-like place the papers have compared it to, but only in the sense the facilities are a lot nicer. Living there has been surprisingly comfortable and it’s nice being among people. Far more than I would have expected. But it’s not a rest home. It’s retirement quarters and there is a difference. I don’t need anyone helping me to get washed or dressed, so I have no idea why we’re not being allowed the freedom to think for ourselves. Fair enough, they might need us to sign in and out so they know our whereabouts, but to stop us having any sense of independence, especially in the evenings, is ludicrous. How is that in any way beneficial?’ Olive was almost in full soapbox mode again over the whole thing. If she’d been in a warden-controlled flat she wouldn’t have had these kinds of stringent curfews to abide by. She didn’t understand why it was like that at Oakley West when it didn’t need to be.
‘Surely, it’s just for health and safety reasons? I have to admit the reason I wanted you to go to Oakley West was because they offered such reassurances with regard to your safety. We both know you’re not the best at staying out of trouble.’ Richard took a sip of his drink, and gazed out at the bay.
The Gin Shack on the Beach Page 17
