Catherine Miller - The Gin Shack on the Beach

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.’

‘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.