Catherine Miller - The Gin Shack on the Beach

‘I thought it was you.’

The voice startled Olive enough that she almost knocked some of her precious bottles over. Clutching where her heart should be (it had risen to her voice box), she turned to see Veronica. ‘Gawd, are you trying to kill me?’

‘Not intentionally, but I’m not the one playing at being Bond and hiding in cupboards.’

‘What? How did you know I was there?’ Olive’s cheeks blushed at the thought of being caught out.

‘As soon as I spotted you at Oakley, I knew you’d be wanting to find out how to escape sooner or later. When that door creaked I knew you must be behind it.’

Olive laughed. ‘Not quite a CIA agent yet then? Here, I made a hot chocolate for you.’ Olive offered the mug and a seat. If they were lucky she might still have a packet of biscuits stashed in the biscuit tin.

‘Marvellous. I should have popped by here sooner.’ She took the mug and stretched out her free hand. ‘Lovely to officially meet you. I’m Veronica Owens.’

‘Olive Turner.’ Olive embraced the warmth of Veronica’s hand and already knew they would be kindred spirits. ‘Now, let me see if I can find us some chocolate chip cookies.’

‘Never mind your cookies. I want to know what’s in those bottles.’ Veronica didn’t hesitate in making herself comfortable on one of the deckchairs. It made Olive regret not inviting her over sooner, but then they were both evidently creatures of habit and had their own routines that they stuck to. If it hadn’t been for her move to Oakley West their early-morning polite wave to each other would have continued indefinitely.

Olive tore open the biscuits all the same and offered them to Veronica before settling down herself. She’d not intended telling anyone about her gin hobby, but the row of bottles did require a bit of explaining. ‘For some considerable time now, I’ve been searching for the perfect G&T. I’ve been trying out as many gins as possible over the years and these are my current favourites. It’s always changing, though, as I like to try all the new bespoke ones that are coming out.’

‘Have you found it? The perfect G&T, that is.’

‘Far from it. I think I have plenty of years of research ahead of me. I only ever have one drink at the end of the day.’ It was something they’d done as a couple when John was still alive. It was one of the things she’d continued to do, knowing he would have wanted her to continue their quest to find the perfect combination.

‘Well, you do know how you could speed up this research project, don’t you? I think it’s time you got yourself a research assistant and I’d be more than happy to volunteer.’ Veronica eyed up the bottles with the level of delight they deserved.

Olive hadn’t considered the idea of sharing her hobby. Not because it wasn’t something that couldn’t be shared, more that it was somehow so inextricably linked to life with John. The unspoken toast she always made was private. But then, she also knew this was something she enjoyed and her husband would want that passion to continue.

‘I think any assistance would be welcome, although it’s a bit early today. I normally have one at the end of the day and was hoping to escape out of Oakley West after dinner some evenings. So, if you’re my assistant, tell me, why Tuesday mornings? There must be a reason that’s the day you choose to escape.’ She dunked her biscuit and listened in the hope Veronica would be willing to answer.

‘You’ll soon learn that Oakley West is very much a place of routine. Everything revolves around a timetable. You’re expected at the dining room at certain times, they like you to sign up for activities and take part as much as possible. They like to know where you are at all times, so there aren’t many opportunities to grab five minutes unless it’s in your bedroom.’

‘That’s what I feared,’ Olive said, verbalising her thoughts without meaning to.

‘You’ve obviously not studied the timetable in any detail yet otherwise you’d know that breakfast starts half an hour later on a Tuesday. They have a stock delivery early that morning. Kitchen and medical supplies all at the same time. So, it occupies most of the staff and means there’s a bit more leeway with timings, with breakfast being later. It’s easy to escape on a Tuesday morning. I’ve tried on other days, but there have been too many people about.’

‘Hmmmm… that’s a shame. I’d pop down here every morning if I could get away with it. I thought I’d be able to come to the beach hut as and when I pleased once I’d moved into Oakley West, but it seems my son has other ideas. He’s let me keep the hut, but only if I come here at particular times and it has to be pre-organised to make sure at least one of my friends is about.’ Olive also helped herself to a biscuit. She took her frustration out with her chewing rather than getting onto her soapbox for too long.

‘It’s a bit of a nanny state of affairs. Just because we’re old doesn’t mean we’ve lost use of our senses. You’d think considering it’s only down the road they’d let you come here when you liked.’

‘Oakley West is probably worried about my son suing them if I go and do myself an injury. He probably threatened them with exactly that. He’s a lawyer,’ Olive added, clarifying why he might put those fears into people.

‘Are they going to get someone to walk you down here to make sure you don’t break your hip on the way?’

‘Oh God. I hope not. They’re not going to be that pedantic are they?’

Veronica shrugged. ‘The activity coordinator brings us down here in a group. They do love everything to be supervised.’

‘Hence why you escape on a Tuesday morning?’

‘Yep. I’d go mad if I didn’t come here at least once a week.’

‘I think I’ll go mad if I don’t come here once a day.’ Olive offered Veronica another biscuit and they both took one before she secured them away in the tin.

‘I’ve tried finding other times of day to make an escape, but I’ve not had much luck. Feel free to join me next Tuesday, save you hiding in the cupboard.’

‘Thank you. That’s very kind. And maybe between us we can find another opportunity to escape one evening. Do you think they’d let you walk down here with me, rather than one of the staff?’

‘Wouldn’t that be nice? Shall we ask and see what they say?’ Veronica upended her mug and finished the last of her hot chocolate.

‘We can but try.’ Olive took both the mugs to clean them before they left. It would be weird to have someone come along with her, she was so used to her independence, but she would much rather have Veronica here than be walked along by some healthcare assistant like she’d lost the ability to navigate down the road.

Olive decided to return the bottles to safety and gave Veronica a brief history of each one as she stowed them away. Her favourite varieties at the moment all seemed to be fruit-based in some way: orange zest, rhubarb with ginger, citrus crush. Talking about them was a pleasure and it gave Olive something to smile about, knowing she had a friend wanting to listen to her impart her knowledge.

‘I think life at Oakley West has just started to get interesting.’ Veronica offered a wink.

Definitely a kindred spirit. And with such a strict set-up and so many opportunities to be rebellious, they were going to have great fun. ‘I guess it’s time to head back? Unless we want to get caught.’

‘Oh gosh. Yes, we better had. They’ll be expecting us at breakfast soon.’

Gin and rebellion would have to wait for another day.

Chapter Seven

It was a perfect July afternoon with the school summer holidays drawing near. As Olive watched Lucas build a sandcastle empire, she was reminded of the days she used to come down here with Richard and Jane after they’d finished school. The five-year age gap between them hadn’t mattered when there was sand about. It provided exactly the level of entertainment children needed and this hadn’t changed, whatever the generation.