The Gin Shack on the Beach

by Catherine Miller

  The water was beginning to recede now, the beach expanding as the weather released a big sigh and the sun started to show. It was like the scenery knew their conversation had uncovered a lifetime of unspoken words and already they were more at ease in each other’s presence.

  It would be a nice afternoon on the beach. One on which she would have happily camped in her beach hut for the entire day, the earlier bad weather meaning the sands were quieter than usual. It was strange. Having spent so much time down here she could read the weather and how it would set up the mood for the day quite easily. ‘I don’t think I can be accused of getting into trouble this time. This isn’t the same as the pigeons.’ She didn’t like to bring them up, but looking back, pigeon-gate seemed almost laughable. ‘If I’d been allowed to come to my beach hut whenever I wanted to, none of this would have happened. Instead, that small piece of enjoyment was taken from me. At first, in terms of the amount of time I was allowed to spend there, and then entirely.’

  If it hadn’t been for the denial of her right to do as she pleased, sneaking out of Oakley West would never have happened. Making friends who were kindred spirits might never have happened. Managing to unite socially over gin would never have been the outcome. Despite not having been happy about how she’d been treated, good things could come out of rubbish situations. The Gin Shack was testament to that.

  ‘I realise I’ve been rather short-sighted over the whole situation. Oakley West was a very selfish move on my part. It was meant to be a solution resulting in my not having to worry about you. I hadn’t thought about it from your point of view. And it certainly hasn’t stopped me worrying about you. But I’ve come to realise – you’re my mother – I’d worry about you no matter what.’

  ‘Thank you.’ It was all Olive could find to say in the face of finding out her son cared for her. If she was being honest with herself, there were moments she’d doubted it over the past few months and she’d begun to feel she was nothing more than a nuisance in his life.

  ‘We do need to come up with a plan. I’m not sure I’m happy with leaving you holed up temporarily in a closed hotel, even if you do have your friends there with you.’

  Olive took a moment to enjoy the quiet calm of the bay. The identifiable scent in the air of churned-up seaweed being dried out by the sun. ‘I don’t want to return to Oakley West until the Matron has been investigated. She needs to be reported to the management as well. I don’t know what it is, but something isn’t right.’ Apart from the fact Matron had taken her gin and most likely drank it, there wasn’t anything concrete to point at the woman being anything other than a consummate professional. But there was something, a sixth sense, telling Olive her controlling nature wasn’t for the benefits of her residents as she liked to so vehemently claim.

  ‘I can talk to the police and find out what happened as a result of them going back to Oakley West. But it’s the kind of thing they’d need a warrant for if they had any concerns, and I’m not sure one missing bottle of gin is going to be enough to justify that. She’s not a bad woman, just a very overbearing one. I really think you should consider returning.’ Richard drank more of his tea, raising his eyebrows at her as he did.

  Clearly he knew she was going to argue the point so she might as well get on with it. ‘As long as she’s going to stop me going to The Gin Shack in the evenings when I choose to, I’m not going back to Oakley West. And Randy and Veronica won’t either.’ At the moment, until they had more staff in place, Tony needed them to keep the place running smoothly. It was already more popular than anticipated and there was no telling how busy it would be now the media had got hold of the story and they’d had more publicity than they’d ever expected.

  Richard didn’t respond straight away. Perhaps he’d been hoping she would be compliant and just return without giving him any undue headaches. But there was no way she wasn’t going to make a stand for the independence she deserved. She owed herself that much.

  ‘We better get some of your clothes and whatever you need from Oakley West. Give me a list and I can meet you back at The Gin Shack. At least that way I can make sure you have what you need and the room is suitable. But it is only temporary. We need to work out what we’re going to do after the gin bottle saga has been looked into. And, Mum…’ Richard raised his Styrofoam cup. ‘It’s not gin, but perhaps we should raise a toast if it’s traditional.’

  It didn’t matter that it wasn’t gin. Of course it was always preferable, but the occasion allowed a dispensation. A smile floated across Olive’s lips. ‘To John and Jane, wherever you are.’

  It was the same toast she said every night, but with her son echoing her words, suddenly it meant so much more.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The hotel room was quaint with shades of white and beige. There was far too much lace for it to be a modern room, but it was certainly accommodating enough to provide a comfortable base. And however pleasant it was, Richard was right. This was temporary. She didn’t want to be living out of a bag of clothes with a small amount of space to call her own.

  ‘Everything okay, Olive?’ It was Tony doing a very good job of making sure everything was as sorted as possible given the late notice that there would be guests.

  ‘It’s lovely.’

  ‘And everything okay with Richard?’

  They’d not had chance to catch up on what had been said. Her relationship with Richard had been strained for such a long time, it was a great relief to come away from a conversation without feeling fraught by what had been discussed. For once, he seemed to be on her side. It was a nice turnaround given how things had been of late. ‘Yes. He’s speaking to the police to find out what’s going on. He’s being rather understanding for a change. Maybe seeing The Gin Shack in the papers has made him realise there’s more to his mum than meets the eye. She’s not done yet.’

  ‘If he hadn’t realised that already, that son of yours needs to spend more time in your company. I still can’t believe that Matron woman had the cheek to call the police on us. Hopefully she’ll end up getting her dose of karma.’

  Tony was right. She deserved whatever was coming to her if she had been stealing from OAPs and treating them in the way she had been. ‘We’ll see.’ Olive wasn’t convinced, but it was enough that she was already happier staying here. It was safe, plus she could go to the bar whenever she wanted to see her friends. ‘I’m going to have a lie-down if that’s okay?’

  ‘Of course, Olive. It’s been quite the rush these past few days. I’m exhausted, but I think adrenaline is doing a good job of fuelling me today. Just shout if you need anything and don’t worry about helping out this evening. I think you all need a rest.’ Tony closed her door, leaving her in peace.

  It was a relief to get some time to herself. She wouldn’t have liked to admit it, but the past few days were taking their toll. Her body wasn’t quite the spring-chicken version of herself she had in her head. Having been up on her feet two nights in a row, added to today’s walk, she was more tired than she usually would be and it didn’t take long for her eyelids to start drooping once she was on the bed. Realising an afternoon nap was not only inevitable, but also necessary, she slid under the duvet and blanket and the toasty freshness of clean bed linen soon enveloped her in sleep.

  When Olive woke, she did that thing of being totally disorientated. She wasn’t able to pinpoint where she was or what time of day it was or why there was such a joyous hubbub of voices coming through the floorboards. Whatever they were on, she wanted some of what they were having. Then it all clicked into place. She was above The Gin Shack and, judging by how busy it sounded downstairs, she’d slept for a fair whack of time, far longer than she’d meant to.

  Even though Tony had said she should have the evening off, Olive still wanted to head to the bar. It would be nice to enjoy the social side of things rather than working tonight. As she navigated her way round the room, finding the light to make things easier, she wondered if Ric
hard was still about. She soon discovered he wasn’t when she found the piece of paper on her side table. It was from him, saying he’d be in touch tomorrow and back at the weekend. It was a disappointment to find she’d slept through him returning and missed the chance to say goodbye properly. The note didn’t give any information as to whether he’d found anything out about Matron, but hopefully he would have conveyed anything interesting to Tony at the very least.

  Olive took her time getting ready, wanting to freshen up and make use of the en-suite shower room. It was nice to be refreshed with sleep and a blast under the showerhead. When she’d also made use of the supplied hairdryer, she headed down to the bar. She’d not dressed up as much as opening night, partly because she only had a selection of items from her wardrobe, handpicked by her son, so a bright kaftan with white linen trousers it was.

  The stairwell wasn’t the best to venture down. It was rather on the steep side and the creaks showed the age of the building. It certainly wouldn’t be outside the realms of Richard’s health and safety concerns. It really wouldn’t serve them too well if Olive were to make a dive for it down the staircase so she stepped with an unnatural amount of caution.

  On the final step Olive snatched her foot back when her flip-flop slid. It was a good job she’d been going slowly, but as she was still half asleep she couldn’t work out why she would have slipped on the carpet.

  Water. When she looked properly it became abundantly clear that the surface of the carpet was covered with water. At first, Olive peered skywards thinking perhaps her shower had somehow flooded the downstairs, but there were no drips from the ceiling.

  Instead the carpet was a soggy mess with no obvious source. Removing her flip-flops and rolling up her trousers, Olive ventured towards the bar. As she waded through, her nostrils became more and more aware of something nasty. She didn’t even want to think about what she was stepping in, but she needed to grin and bear it to at least let Tony know. She was pretty certain he didn’t know about whatever the problem was or he’d be here trying to sort it out.

  It wasn’t good news, whatever was causing the minor flood. Olive headed towards the bar, and the further along the hallway she went, the more it became evident that the flow was coming from that direction.

  She would have shouted for Tony, but the noise from the bar was so loud there was no chance he’d be able to hear her. It was surprising no one had noticed anything, but as she grew closer to the source, it was clear it was far more of a trickle than a gush. Opening the door out to the bar, it was easy to work out the water was coming from the disabled toilet. It was away from the other loos and the pool of water had trickled towards the hotel entrance rather than heading for the bar.

  Not knowing the first thing about plumbing, Olive decided it would be preferable to seek help rather than investigating any further by herself. Just as she was beginning to worry about how she’d navigate the crowd to find a familiar face with no shoes on, TJ appeared from collecting glasses.

  ‘TJ,’ Olive yelled as loudly as she could.

  ‘What’s up, Olive?’ It was evident from TJ’s expression that he knew something was wrong.

  The poor love looked like he was worried she’d wet her pants. And with her trousers rolled up, shoes off and standing in a wet patch, it wasn’t the strangest assessment to come up with. But despite her getting on in years, there was nothing wrong with those functions yet.

  ‘Get your dad. There’s a leak coming from the disabled toilet.’ Olive realised the situation needed a little clarification.

  ‘Right, okay. He’s just having an interview with that Daily Mail journalist who rang. Shall I interrupt?’

  On the scale of urgent, this had to be pretty high, but did it really trump an interview with a national newspaper?

  ‘Where’s Randy?’ As he was so often Olive’s right-hand man these days, his input would be very much appreciated.

  ‘He’s with Dad.’

  ‘Right, it’s down to us to check it out then.’ Olive had a bad feeling about this. They’d all worked so hard to get The Gin Shack up and running. With its early success, it would be sod’s law for something as simple as a burst pipe to come along to cause them problems. ‘I’ll go in, seeing as I’m already prepped. Just make sure you come and rescue me if I end up swimming in it.’

  TJ hovered in the doorway as Olive pushed open the door to investigate what was going on. The handbasin was overflowing. That by itself she could probably have handled. If someone had accidentally left the tap running with the plug in, it would be an easy thing to fix, then it would be a simple case of clearing up the mess and any damage caused. Only it wasn’t just the sink overflowing. It was also the toilet with water drizzling over the edge.

  The fact that both sink and toilet were overflowing led Olive to one immediate conclusion: this was deliberate.

  ‘Go check the other toilets and get your dad.’ The interview was important, but as this appeared to be a wilful act of vandalism, Olive didn’t want to risk anything else having happened without its being dealt with. If someone had done this, there might be damage elsewhere.

  Not entirely sure whether she should touch anything, Olive decided that turning off the flowing tap and pulling the plug out to stop the sink creating any more puddles was the sensible thing to do.

  The toilet was a trickier problem to deal with it. Not having the faintest idea what might be causing it to run over, she wasn’t about to investigate any further than a preliminary nosey. Whatever the issue, it came with a distinctly unpleasant pong and Olive was beginning to regret abandoning her flip-flops so readily.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Tony asked as he arrived at the door at the same time as Randy, their two figures filling the doorframe.

  Olive wanted to make a sarcastic comment about deciding to take a bath, but the seriousness of the situation made it inappropriate. ‘We have a flooding situation going on. The sink was overflowing as well. I’ve stopped that, but I’ve no idea what to do about the toilet. I don’t know much about anything, but there’s no way both of them could have happened spontaneously. Someone’s done this, surely?’

  Randy, moving with his usual nimbleness, managed to get to the toilet and started to prod about to investigate.

  ‘But why would anybody…?’ Tony didn’t quite formulate the question on everyone’s lips. It was impossible to think any of this had been done on purpose.

  ‘Are the other toilets okay?’ Olive wasn’t sure if TJ had been able to check and he’d not reported back to say what the situation was.

  Another head poked round the toilet door. ‘Are we okay to carry on?’

  Tony didn’t reply. It was clear he wasn’t keeping up with everything that was going on.

  ‘Nappies,’ Randy said. ‘Someone has rammed nappies down here and blocked the system, then made sure it carried on running. There’s no way this wasn’t done deliberately.’

  ‘Is someone trying to sabotage you?’ the head poking round the corner said.

  Tony, whose jaw was slack, responded by opening and closing it several times before finally managing to make it work. ‘I think it’d be wise to close early tonight. Anyone who hasn’t had all their drinks can use their tokens any other night and we’ll make it a double. We need to work out what’s going on and check nothing else has been damaged.’

  ‘You need to call the police,’ Randy said, his shirtsleeves rolled up with damp patches in places. ‘We can’t have anyone doing this kind of thing and thinking they’ll get away with it.’

  Olive couldn’t think why anyone would want to behave like this. What purpose was there in such mindless acts? Perhaps the media coverage had brought about the unwanted attention of local yobs. Whoever it was, it was extremely unpleasant. No wonder small businesses were failing to thrive in the local area if this was the kind of thing they were faced with, having barely opened.

  ‘The other toilets seem to be okay,’ TJ said, returning to repo
rt his findings.

  ‘Good. At least that’s something. It’s still best we close early, though, to make sure everything is okay and start cleaning up.’

  ‘And to call the police,’ Randy said again.

  ‘Yes, you’re right, we can’t let this slide without taking action. TJ, could you ring them?’

  ‘Any chance I can hang around? I think this story could run a while.’ It was the guy who’d been poking his head round for a gander.

  Tony rubbed his forehead, the stress of the past few weeks clear to see. ‘Only if you put your investigative journalism skills to good use. We need to know who’s done this.’

  It didn’t take long to clear the bar given it wasn’t far off closing time. And then, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, the police were on the premises. Only this time round they were investigating a crime, not checking on whether they were criminals.

  Olive’s nap had been refreshing, but given what had happened while she rested, it seemed a lot could happen in a few hours. And by the time everything had been looked into and the worst of the water cleaned away, she was very ready for her bed, gratefully collapsing into it for another sleep. She needed to catch a lot of hours if there were to be any other days as exhausting as today on the menu.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The following morning, Esme was kind enough to provide the Oakley West trio with a cooked breakfast, although the numbers she was catering for soon expanded as they were joined by Tony and their three sons. They moved a pink-covered table and gathered round to eat in silence. There was a maudlin mood settling over all of them in the wake of what had happened.

  ‘Who do you think did it?’ TJ asked.

  ‘Surely it couldn’t be anyone we know?’ Esme sounded horrified by the thought.