Catherine Miller - The Gin Shack on the Beach

Olive hoped she’d said it casually enough, not giving anything away as to why she was so curious about one of the residents.

‘She’s on the second floor. Two-seventeen. Not far from you.’

‘Thanks. I’ll try and catch up with her at some point soon. Not tonight, though. It’s getting late.’ The sun was beginning to fade and the small courtyard was already getting dark with the sun setting low.

‘And I’m up on the first floor. My room’s one-twenty if you need me for any reason.’ There was a twinkle about Randy as he said it and Olive was sure he reserved that look for all the women he came across in his life. ‘But you’re right, it is getting late, so we best stop the unofficial tour for today.’

‘There’s more to it then?’

Randy tapped his nose again. ‘There certainly is. But I don’t want to overwhelm you. You best get yourself settled into your room. I hope your first few nights have been okay. It’s always strange staying somewhere different.’

Olive didn’t want to go into the technical details of how she didn’t tend to sleep well no matter where she was. ‘Thank you,’ she said, as Randy walked her to the lobby lifts. ‘You’ve been very kind to make me feel welcome.’

In the lift, Randy pressed the buttons to send them to the first and second floors. ‘It’s a pleasure. I haven’t forgotten what it felt like to move here when, really, I wasn’t sure I was ready. I recognise that in you and I wanted you to know it isn’t all bad. In fact, there are days I wish I’d done it sooner.’

‘I’m glad to hear that,’ Olive said as the lift doors opened, announcing their arrival at her floor.

‘Do you want me to walk you to your room?’

Randy was asking out of politeness, not for any other reason, she realised.

‘I’ll be okay from here, thank you.’

‘Great. I’ll see you at breakfast. It’s half an hour later tomorrow. It starts at eight-thirty on a Tuesday, but I’m sure Matron filled you in on all of that with her welcome pack and chat.’

‘She certainly did.’ Olive smiled, all of a sudden feeling much younger than her eighty-four years. ‘See you at breakfast.’ She offered a wave as the lift doors closed and for a moment she was lost in a sea of thought.

Remembering she had a task to carry out, Olive checked the signs on the wall outside the lift indicating which way to head for which room numbers. It had clearly been a hotel in a previous life, the clues more obvious the longer she was here.

Seeing Veronica’s room was indeed in the same direction as hers, Olive continued along the corridor’s plush swirly red carpet, taking note of the room numbers as she went. She could knock now to ask if Veronica was the woman she thought she was. It seemed unlikely that someone would be sneaking out of here for an early-morning swim every Tuesday morning, but seeing as how Olive’s first thought on moving here had been how she would get out, it didn’t seem too odd to think someone might already be doing that. She just needed to find out how. As she didn’t know the woman in any depth, knocking on her door and asking her directly risked her clamming up and not giving her any answers. It might stop her going for her early-morning Tuesday dips altogether.

No, it was far better to use the information she did have to try and find out if she had the right woman. She knew what time she arrived at the beach. It was less than a five-minute walk from Oakley West, so if she was able to somehow keep watch to see if and when Veronica left, she would be able to find out how she was making her escape unnoticed.

Studying the corridor with more purpose, Olive realised her room was too far away to be able to spy, but just opposite there was a door ajar. Popping her head round the gap revealed one of the laundry stores cum cleaning cupboards.

Checking no one was about, Olive opened the door to see if she would be able to hide in here unnoticed. Pulling the door to again, the crack it left gave her a perfect viewing point from which to see across to Veronica’s room. She just had to hope she didn’t get caught, but if she did she would have to play the new girl getting lost card.

Despite the numerous blankets, duvets and sheets stored on shelves in the cupboard, there was no way she would be able to set up for the night, so, feeling a vague notion of tiredness, Olive discreetly left the linen cupboard behind and headed for her room.

When she settled into bed, she knew she needed to be up early if she didn’t want to miss finding out how to escape. Most people would have set an alarm, but Olive was one hundred per cent certain she didn’t need to. She would be awake in a few hours, spending the early hours familiarising herself with the pattern on the ceiling. Only tomorrow she wouldn’t have to. Tomorrow she would get herself prepared for the first covert operation she’d had to carry out. Well, she did like to live by the saying “you’re never too old to try something new.” And standing in a linen cupboard spying on someone was definitely in the things-I’ve-never-tried-before category.

Chapter Five

Olive really wasn’t sure why she’d felt the need to pack a rucksack like some kind of SAS specialist, but she’d done it all the same just to be on the safe side. If she was stuck in the cupboard for hours on end, at least she’d have supplies. It did mean she was wedged in more awkwardly than when she’d trialled it the previous night. Fortunately, her bottom was the right height to perch against one of the lower shelves, so it wasn’t altogether uncomfortable. If she wasn’t too worried about any circulation getting to her legs, that was.

She’d sneaked in the cupboard unduly early. She’d left her room at half past four and, for all the packing of utilities, hadn’t thought to bring a torch, so had no idea how far time had moved on.

Even putting her watch up to the crack in the doorway wasn’t casting enough light to work out how much longer she would be crammed in here.

It was surprisingly quiet at this time of morning. There was less movement than she would have expected in a building full of people. There were obviously benefits to being in a solid building keen on hexagon pillars and high ceilings. It didn’t carry sound and the plush carpets absorbed the sounds of any footsteps, so Olive was having to concentrate extra hard on not missing Veronica leaving her room, if indeed she ever would.

It was the sound of an opening door that alerted Olive to the fact that, at long last, someone was on the move. It was a relief. If she’d had to stay too much longer she would have been found by the cleaners or had to leave for a toilet break and end her vigil.

Through the crack in the doorway, Olive could see it was Veronica on the move. The white-haired lady had bulkier clothing than one might expect for a summer’s day. Olive almost cheered at recognising the bag in her hand and knowing the clothing was bulked out because of the wetsuit it was concealing.

In her excitement at being right, Olive pressed on the door, causing it to waver. She held her breath and ducked back as she caught Veronica peering in the linen cupboard’s direction. Rather than inspecting it as Olive feared she might, it instead spurred Veronica into action and she scooted down the hallway at breakneck speed.

Olive caught her using a skating-style technique to move along the carpet, not picking up her heels. It must reduce the sound, Olive realised. Olive also realised she wasn’t very well equipped to be a spy. Waiting in a cupboard had been her genius move, but now she needed to work out what she did from this point without getting caught.

As soon as she’d lost sight of Veronica, Olive squeezed her way out of the cupboard and quickly discovered her legs were more lacking in circulation than she’d anticipated. She steadied herself against the wall and tried to march some life into them. When she was able to, she took Veronica’s approach to travelling and skated her way along the carpet. It was a rather fun way to move about really and it reminded her of being a kid.