‘Who’s in charge of asking the questions then?’ Skylar asked.
‘I haven’t really come up with any formal questions.’ Esme took a pew at the bar next to her son. She had a clipboard ready to take notes. ‘I thought I could bring them in and introduce them to everybody then let them get on and do their thing. I was hoping you lot would ask some questions almost like you were customers at the bar. Just ask whatever you think is appropriate. Nothing rude.’ Esme gave a motherly stare at her twin boys. They might both have reached adulthood now, but the two eighteen-year-olds still had the essence of being teenagers running through them. ‘Do you all want to take a seat? The first interviewee should be here soon.’
There were enough bar-stools for all of them and Olive wished she could take a photo of them all lined up, their reflections a picture in the mirrors behind the bar. If anyone had ever told her this was what she’d be up to at this stage of life, she wouldn’t have believed them. The Gin Shack constantly made her feel like she was getting the chance to live all over again.
The first candidate arrived and they all carried out their introductions. He was young, probably early twenties, and a little too sure of himself. When he was asked to produce his cocktail recipe, he replied with: ‘What? You really want me to make a cocktail? I thought that was a joke.’
He went on to make a martini with no flare whatsoever and Olive would have taken a bet on its being the only drink he could muster. She took an instant dislike to him, but there was every chance he was the best of a bad bunch. Young and cocksure might be as good as it got.
‘Well, he was rude,’ Paul said, once he’d left. ‘Who takes a request to present a cocktail as part of an interview as a joke? Talk about a timewaster.’
It made Olive smile. If Paul was saying aloud what she was thinking, it really had been a poor interview. It was funny to think that Paul, who hadn’t even liked gin before, was now becoming quite the expert.
They waited another ten minutes for the next candidate to arrive and in that time mulled over which cocktails they would produce to impress at an interview. A Negroni was the popular choice and one that would definitely win Olive over, especially if someone managed to give their own twist on a classic.
The next interviewee was a woman, and having a woman at the helm was something Olive fully supported.
Esme brought her through to the bar and, like last time, introduced all of them by name. ‘Right, Helen, if you’d like to make your cocktail.’
At the name, Olive immediately paid more attention. It couldn’t be. She was a blonde for starters.
This Helen was busy gathering all the things she wanted to create her cocktail and hadn’t turned to face Olive. Leaning forward, she tried to gain Randy and Veronica’s attention, but they were busy chatting to each other, possibly having the same moment of recognition Olive thought she was having.
Surely she wouldn’t have the audacity? But when she turned around with her array of spirits and mixers, Olive drew in her breath sharply. ‘You can’t even be in here. You’re barred.’
Sure enough, it was Matron. The woman who’d been in charge of Oakley West and made the residents’ lives a misery, all while turning a blind eye to the fact that her stepdaughter had been breaking the law in the rafters of the building. She’d been arrested, but never charged, as there wasn’t enough evidence to point to her involvement. She’d lost her job and the living quarters as a result, though, but showing up here after everything she’d done, and given how she’d never liked Olive, was just rude. Or desperate. Whichever, she was never going to be welcome here.
‘That was before. I was hoping, now Tony’s gone, it could all be water under the bridge.’ The woman in front of them didn’t look like Matron. She’d dyed her hair and it was cut into a cropped bob. She was a sixty-year-old trying to be thirty, and while Olive was all for not letting age define a person, she did think looking in the mirror to work out what suited always helped.
‘You really do have a screw loose.’ Randy got up from his stool, obviously getting ready to escort her from the premises. Hopefully they wouldn’t need to involve the police this time.
‘Too right.’
Olive heard a familiar voice followed by coughing from Aiden. Clearly Tony had forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to talk during the video chat. Hopefully Esme hadn’t noticed and there was some way of muting him without her noticing.
‘Time to go.’ Paul also stood up, in solidarity with Randy.
This was the woman who’d effectively stopped them from coming and going freely when she’d been in charge of Oakley West. All under the guise of caring for the residents, when really she’d been helping (not that it had been proven) with underhand criminal activities. She really must be a little bit out of her mind if she thought they were going to welcome her with open arms and put her in charge.
‘I’m going, okay. There’s no need to get the heavies involved.’ Matron moved from behind the bar, leering at Randy and Paul as she passed them. It was fortunate their old Matron had enough sense to realise that staying would only get her in trouble.
‘And don’t come back,’ Esme said. ‘You are barred from the premises. Just because Tony isn’t here, doesn’t mean it doesn’t still apply.’
Leaving, Matron closed the door with such a thwack it left the whole premises rattling, possibly even a few of Olive’s bones.
‘Please tell me we have some better prospects than that coming to interview,’ Skylar said.
It really wasn’t going well if this was all the advert had come up with.
‘There’s one more candidate. But they didn’t give all the correct details on the application so that’s not very hopeful. If they haven’t managed that, I’m not sure they’ll even turn up.’
Olive was pretty sure she heard some mutterings coming from Aiden’s phone, but she figured it was better not to pay it any extra attention and risk getting Tony and his son into a whole heap of trouble.
There was another twenty minutes to wait until the next interviewee arrived and Skylar set to making them all teas and coffees. It really was a disappointing substitute when Olive thought she’d have tried twenty cocktails by the end of the day.
Aiden fiddled with his phone while Esme was in the toilet and hopefully he’d muted any further outbursts from his father.
Before everyone had returned, the door that had been shut so violently creaked open as if the woodwork itself was letting out a sigh of relief at being better handled.
‘Hello, Richard. Would you like a coffee?’ Skylar offered.
It was Olive’s son arriving for his extended weekend stay. He looked so much more relaxed than he had. Even in the last few weeks there’d been a difference. No longer did he always turn up in his formal shirt and tie – a lawyer unable to switch off from his daytime job to the point it ran twenty-four-seven. These days he seemed to enjoy his weekends down here among their friends. And they were their friends. They may have started off as Olive’s, but Richard had been such a support all during the whole Oakley West fiasco, and since Tony had been poorly everyone had warmed to him. He had a well-deserved hero status among them after everything he’d done to help save Tony’s life.
‘Yes, please, that would be lovely.’ Richard offered Skylar a smile, and who could blame him when a beautiful woman had offered to make him a drink as soon as he entered the building?
Olive got up from her stool to give her son a hug. She couldn’t have him forgetting his own mother, not that he would. ‘But hang on…’ The cogs in Olive’s brain really were slower to function of late. ‘Why are you here this early? I thought you had to work today.’
He wasn’t due until the evening. Or at least that’s what Olive had thought. Was Olive getting confused again?
‘I am early. You’re right.’ Richard checked his watch. ‘Ten minutes early by the looks of things.’
It didn’t take much to confuse Olive. ‘About eight hours more like it.’
Esme ret
urned from the loo and broke into a broad smile at seeing Richard. ‘You’re early.’
‘I’m glad everyone’s noticing,’ Richard said.
The pair embraced while Olive returned to the bar, wishing she could openly talk to Tony and ask him if he had a clue what was going on.
‘You’ll never believe who turned up to interview for the job before you arrived,’ Skylar said when she handed Richard his cup of tea.
They filled Richard in on the cheek of the woman they all knew as Matron. She was a blast from the past none of them had ever expected to encounter again, least of all with her waltzing through the doors like nothing had ever happened. Knowing she was still local made Olive wonder if she might have been responsible for the bottom craft-fiti. She’d certainly have the time on her hands and reason to cause upset.
‘Time for our last interview, if they even turn up,’ Esme said, also joining everyone at the bar.
‘Well, they’re late, so that’s not exactly a good start,’ Randy said, glancing towards the door.
‘There I was thinking I was early. You lot even said I was,’ Richard said from his position at the bar with the rest of them.
‘What? So you’re here to interview?’ Skylar asked.
Olive had reached the point in life when sometimes it hurt her brain to put two and two together.
‘Of course.’
Olive furrowed her brow in a way she knew would be most displeasing to her permanent wrinkles. They didn’t need temporary ones joining the fold. ‘But what about your business? The Gin Shack won’t manage when you’re only here at the weekends.’
‘I wasn’t proposing on being here just at the weekends. I figured, if I got the job, I’d take some time off from my business, which can pretty much run itself without me, to make sure this one stays afloat.’
‘Job’s yours then. That was easy. Couldn’t think of anyone better,’ Randy said, raising his mug in a toast.
‘Hold your horses,’ Veronica said from the furthest position on the bar. ‘He hasn’t had his interview yet.’
‘We know he can do the job,’ Randy said
‘Yes, but can he make a cocktail?’ Aiden said.
Olive wondered if it was Tony who really wanted to know if Richard could make one. It wasn’t like the entertainment programme he was watching had provided him with much cocktail-making so far. And as her son had been a teetotaller until the opening of the Gin Shack, was it possible for him to mix cocktails without the knowledge most would have? Had he managed to learn that quickly?
‘What do you say, Esme?’ Veronica prompted.
Esme placed her mug down and stared at it for a moment. ‘I guess it’s only fair Richard should interview like everyone else.’
‘Of course I should. Besides, I’ve come prepared. Don’t let me waste my efforts.’
Olive was just about catching up now she knew she was right about him being here earlier than he was due to be. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Richard coming here to take over, though. There was no doubt he had a bit of a controlling nature and, while much of it had been with her welfare in mind, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to help interfering in her life given the opportunity. She pushed those thoughts away, though. She’d deal with that if it ever came to it.
‘Did you know Richard was coming to interview, Esme?’ Veronica asked.
‘Nope. There wasn’t a name on the application. I thought it was a no-hoper who wasn’t able to manage the most straightforward question there was. Anyway, as we’ve agreed, we can’t fairly give you the job, Richard, without your demonstrating your cocktail-making skills.’
‘With pleasure.’ Richard went behind the bar and took a few extra ingredients out of his weekend bag.
It was really nice to think Richard had gone to some effort. Olive wasn’t sure of his motives for wanting to work there, but she knew it would be a great comfort to Tony if someone capable of doing the job was left in charge.
‘Right, I must confess that having some insider knowledge of what the Gin Shack has featured has helped make my decision easier. I’m not sure even my mum has tried this one before.’
Richard carefully poured out measures of gin with some fresh lemon juice, adding them to the cocktail shaker. He then raided his own supplies again, adding sugar and runny honey. ‘This cocktail is called the Bee’s Knees and it dates back to Prohibition. So it’s a bit vintage, but we could say that about some of our best customers.’
Richard offered Olive a cheeky smile. The cheek of it, referring to his mother and friends as vintage. But then he might have a point and, quite frankly, there was nothing wrong with that. As far as she knew it was the “in” thing and she had no problem with being in.
‘I’ve been practising this next bit. I don’t think even Tony can do this.’ With his cocktail shaker fully charged, Richard did an impressive little routine, including a throw in the air as he spun round, ready to catch it. There were delighted shrieks from everyone, the loudest coming from Skylar.
Richard took a little bow and Olive couldn’t help but lead a round of applause. It was hard to believe that her uptight son, who used to get his knickers in a twist over the thought of Olive enjoying herself, was now here delivering quite the spectacle. He had hidden depths and it would appear they were more alike than she ever could have imagined.
Richard passed them all a sample of the drink to try. The cocktail was a gorgeous golden colour, like a rich champagne only without the sparkles.
Her son had been right – Olive hadn’t tried this before. What a gorgeously simple recipe and how was it she had never thought to try something similar.
Olive always tended to close her eyes on the first taste of a new drink, as if cutting off the sense of sight aided the tasting experience. The Bee’s Knees cocktail was sweet and sophisticated all at once. The sugar cut across the sour and the outcome was delectable.
‘What do you think?’ Richard asked.
For a moment, Olive was so taken away with the flavours, she’d forgotten where she was. The murmurs from everyone else were in agreement with Olive’s own thoughts. ‘One of the nicest cocktails I’ve ever had. The only thing is… it’s not very Christmassy, is it?’
‘Ah. I knew you’d say that, so, in true Gin Shack tradition, that was just a sampler, trying it in its true form. I had to think about what would go with it and make it more festive. The Bee’s Knees Christmas-style coming up.’ Richard showed off his skills with the cocktail shaker again. Once he was done, he placed their drinks in front of them and, unlike the last one, this was ruby-red in colour.
‘What have you added in here?’ Randy asked, holding it up to the light.
Along the rest of the bar everyone else was sniffing or peering at the drink, trying to work it out before having a taste.
Olive was pretty sure she knew what it was and how pleasing it was that her son might have inherited a feel for good flavour combinations. She went in for a taste to confirm whether she was correct. Just as she thought, Richard had added a cranberry liquor. Not too much so the honey wasn’t apparent, but enough to give a taste and, although it didn’t sing Christmas in the way mulled wine might, it did say seasonal with a slight twist on a classic.
‘I thought cranberry counted as a Christmas flavour,’ Richard said, confirming the taste to anyone who’d not worked it out.
‘This is gorgeous,’ Veronica exclaimed, with everyone else agreeing.
‘You know what this means, don’t you?’ Randy said, glancing along the bar to catch everyone’s attention.
And as if they’d all practised it, in a very Apprentice-style manner, they all said (including Tony, if it was possible to identify the tiny voice)…
‘You’re hired!’
Chapter Eight
Even though Olive was allowed to exit through the front door of Oakley West these days, today she was scooting out via a side exit. It was because she’d had to make use of the fridge in the staff break room to stow away an ingredient or
two.
Retrieving what she’d hidden, Olive set off on her venture down to her beach hut. It was nice there was no longer the worry of being discovered by Matron. Admittedly not quite as thrilling, but she’d just have to get her kicks elsewhere.
It was why she was so delighted about the cocktail competition. It was all very well being on a journey to find the best G&T, but when there were so many delicious gins these days, it was almost an impossible task. Formulating a winning gin-based cocktail seemed like a challenge she could master, though. Especially given the theme. She’d thought long and hard about the flavours that would work well together. Richard’s take on the Bee’s Knees cocktail had been delicious, no doubt about it, but it didn’t say ‘Jingle Bells’ all the way. Or even Gingle Bells, come to that. The thought reminded her she needed to talk to Esme about their planned weekend in the hotel part of the Gin Shack. She would quite understand if it was something Esme no longer wished to undertake, given she was helping her husband recuperate. She’d have to find a quiet moment with her to see whether the plan was going to be scrapped or go ahead. Because if it was going to happen, they would need to get a move on.
Not able to do any more about it right now, Olive concentrated on attempting to start her recipe idea. The combination she was trying today was a risk. There was every chance it would taste foul, hence why she was carrying out some experiments to see if she could make it work. She wanted to create the taste of a mince pie in a drink. She’d had the idea that infusing the gin with the mincemeat and letting it soak up the taste might work really well. But having never really done anything like that before, she wasn’t sure if the taste would be taken on by the gin, and even if it did infuse, there was every possibility it would be disgusting. The only problem was she didn’t have a clue about measures or what length of time to let the permeating carry on. Or what other flavours it might need to create the right balance.
But Olive was determined to crack it. And if she worked hard to get it right, it might be the perfect Christmas cocktail. She just hoped nobody else produced anything similar and, of course, that hers was the best.
Christmas at the Gin Shack Page 5
