The Gin Shack on the Beach

‘Olive, are you naked?’ Skylar laughed at the realisation. A delightful crisp sound that filled the air and set the seagulls off as if returning her call.

‘I most certainly am, darling.’

‘Fantastic. You go, girl!’ Skylar’s face lit with delight and it made Olive immediately less conscious, unlike her son’s reaction.

‘So, would you mind? Take the towel from Richard, get him to disappear, then avert your eyes while I get out.’

‘No problem.’ Skylar attempted to take the towel. ‘You do know she’s not coming out unless you move. I’ll let you know once she is.’

Richard was reluctant to give in. Olive saw it in the steely stare he sent her way, but he handed the towel over all the same, and stomped his way back towards the promenade, briefcase in hand. Never had a man looked more at odds with his surroundings.

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.

‘Good.’ Olive was relieved to think no one else would know about her hobby. Especially as it might be a while before she braved a dip again.

‘It is good.’ The sound of Richard’s voice saw everyone turn their heads in his direction. ‘Because we don’t need you carrying on like that any more.’

Olive wondered where the royal “we” came in. They were her friends, not his. It was him who didn’t want her carrying on. ‘Good morning, Richard. Perhaps we can start off on a better foot now I have my clothes on.’

Skylar stifled a snigger, and catching a glimpse of her out the corner of her eye made Olive smile too broadly, considering she was trying to be serious.

‘Good morning, Mother. Is everything packed up? Do we need to do anything or are you ready?’

‘Yes, everything from the house is packed up. You’ll need to go through some stuff to see if you want it, but I’m sure house removals can deal with the rest of that.’ Richard’s visit was for the purpose of moving her into the Oakley West Retirement Quarters. It was a very odd concept to be moving an entire lifetime of memories from a four-bedroom house to a single room. But it turned out Olive wasn’t very attached to the past. It hadn’t been very nice to her all told, so she was more than happy to say goodbye to half the rubbish that had gathered over the years. The only piece of furniture she was attached to was the ottoman and that was safe here at her beach hut. At least she hoped so.

‘What about the beach hut? Is that all packed up?’ Richard asked.

The silence that followed was electric. It drew all the beach-hut residents to the conversation like atoms drawn to a charge.

‘I’m not packing up the beach hut because I’m not leaving.’ Olive’s voice sounded stronger than she felt.

Richard sighed in a way that might have caused smoke to puff from his nostrils if he’d been another species. ‘We talked about this.’

‘No. We never talked. You told me how it was going to be and expected me to agree to everything.’

‘Yes, because it’s in your best interest.’

‘Sandwich?’ Tony grabbed a platter from the table and offered them to Richard. ‘This lot have brown sauce. The better choice if you ask me, but there’s Tommy K as well if you prefer.’ Tony waved the plate a little as if he was trying to tempt Button, not that the dog needed much tempting. ‘They’re your mother’s speciality. Take a seat and have a sandwich and maybe I can introduce everyone.’

Olive was very appreciative of Tony’s actions. He was doing his best to disperse the charge gathering around them.

‘My apologies. I didn’t mean to come across so brashly, but as you’ve been discussing, I’ve had a bit of a shock this morning and I’m more than a little concerned for my mother’s welfare.’

‘Have a sandwich? Guaranteed to make you feel better.’ Tony waved the plate in Richard’s direction again.

At long last Richard took a sandwich and found a seat next to Skylar.

‘While you eat that, let me introduce everyone.’ Tony went round the entire group naming each individual and filling Richard in on which beach hut belonged to whom. ‘And the thing is, Olive is part of our gang. We’re a community, it wouldn’t be the same without her.’

Richard nodded and the cogs of his thinking process were almost visible. ‘I appreciate that you’re all friends with my mum, and I don’t want you to think I’m an overly interfering relative, but my concerns aren’t for when other people are here. It’s the fact she comes here before the crack of dawn with only crabs and winkles for company. However much I don’t want to say it, it needs pointing out that she’s not the spring chicken she thinks she is. This morning proves she’s taking too many risks. I’d be an irresponsible son if I didn’t do everything I could to ensure her safety.’

Having given his reasoned argument in typical lawyer style, Richard helped himself to another sandwich. For a moment, Olive saw the words sinking in with her friends and the thought he might be right was a scary one. She didn’t want to think she might be losing part of her identity by growing old. She didn’t think age should define a person and she wasn’t about to let it if she had her way.

‘It was a bit risky,’ Skylar said, reluctance evident in the quietness of her words.

‘Walking down the road is risky,’ Paul piped up. ‘At least Olive is doing something she enjoys.’

‘I know. Life is full of risk and it’s all relative, but I don’t want to be the one who gets the phone call telling him his mother has drowned.’

‘Look…’ There was a fire lighting in Olive’s belly and she needed to let it out. ‘I am here, you know, and don’t you think, as I’m nearer to death than any of the rest of you, that I should be the one who says how I spend my last years. And it might be the most selfish thing in all the world, but I think the idea of the ocean swallowing me up sounds rather delicious. I’m not going to let the risks of everyday life stop me from coming to the place I love.’

‘She’s got a point,’ TJ, Tony and Esme’s eldest son, said. ‘That would be way cooler than being run over by a bus.’

‘TJ…’ Esme chastised her son. ‘We don’t want anyone dying and we certainly don’t want Olive to lose her beach hut. There must be a way of making sure you’re both happy.’

‘I can look after myself, you know. I’ve only agreed to move into Oakley West so I can be lazy for a change. Not because I need supervising through every step of life. I’m perfectly able to look after myself while I’m here.’

‘She does a good job of looking after the rest of us as well,’ Tony said, raising a sandwich as proof.

‘My concern is the day you trip at five-thirty in the morning and not a soul finds you for another couple of hours.’

‘At least someone would find me. That wouldn’t happen if I stayed at home all day wrapped in a bubble like you’d prefer me to.’ She would chain herself to the beach hut if it came to it.

‘But that’s the whole point. The reason you’re moving to Oakley West is so that never happens. There’s always the staff there looking after you. They’re not going to be able to have someone with you all hours of the day while you’re swanning off to the beach. It defeats the point of your moving there in the first place.’

‘I haven’t moved there yet. I can soon change my mind if it means giving up every aspect of my life. That wasn’t my intention when I agreed to it.’

‘Hang on. Let’s not be hasty. All I want, Mum, is for you to stick to reasonable hours of the day. There are lots of activities to be joining in with at Oakley West. I won’t force you to leave your beach hut, but I will ask you to stick to coming here when you know some of your friends are around. And as we’re paying large sums of money for you to be at Oakley West, it seems only fair that you give their activity timetable a shot.’

Olive wondered if it was some kind of military workshop she was being signed up to. Wasn’t this move meant to be relaxing? She was much happier with her own company most of the time. It was why five-thirty in the morning had such an appeal.

‘That sounds reasonable,’ Esme said. ‘That way we’ll still see you and Richard’s mind will be at rest knowing there’s always someone here looking out for you.’

It wasn’t perfect. It was far from it, really. Olive didn’t want her freedom taken away, but then what Richard didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. ‘Okay,’ Olive said, knowing that at least if the beach hut was still hers, she would find a way to visit alone.

Chapter Three

Olive had already seen the room she was destined to move into. When she’d visited, it had reminded her of a bed and breakfast: quaint in its own way, but it would take some time for her to call it home. Even with her bags now here and mostly unpacked it didn’t take away from the fact it felt like a temporary stopping gap. There was no escaping the sense it was a hotel room and she was on holiday for a week. It probably wasn’t helped by the fact that Oakley West had once been a thriving hotel. The whole place had a very art deco feel to the interiors and was grand enough to be classed as five-star living. The building itself was rectangular with a turret on each corner of the building making it look like a miniature castle. Inside it was all high ceilings and every room was much larger and more imposing than it needed to be. It wasn’t exactly homely.

‘Can I help you unpack anything else?’ Richard asked, returning from placing her towels in the en-suite bathroom. Of course, they supplied their own, but Olive didn’t want to give up all the familiarities of home.

There were only Olive’s clothes left to unpack and after this morning, especially after this morning, she didn’t think Richard needed the added embarrassment of unpacking her smalls. ‘There’s just the pictures to hang on the walls.’

She said it without thinking about the photos or the memories they contained. She should have waited. Got one of the staff to put them in place later on.

‘Where do you want them?’

The first was an old black and white photo. It was the last taken before their world had changed. When their family was complete. A lifetime ago. The last evidence of a time when they were whole.

Richard didn’t even glance at the image. Just waited on directions of where it should be hung.

This was where they differed. Richard spent so much of his life sweeping it under the carpet. Pretending things hadn’t happened and then moving on like they never had. Olive wasn’t like that. She couldn’t forget. She didn’t want to. She immersed herself in happy memories from the past.

But what provided comfort for one was a source of pain for another. It had always been like that, the fractures the past had created still so apparent despite the years in-between.

‘That one can go by my bed.’ Olive scraped enough air from her lungs to create a sentence. She wanted to say so much more. She wanted to talk about the past without the fear of causing upset. Some days the tension wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but at times it was so present it affected their every interaction.

Rather than bearing the awkwardness of Richard ignoring the pictures, Olive went through them and selected two for the other hooks. She’d have to see if she could put more up in the room – either that or have the smaller prints upright in photo frames. As she propped them against the wall ready for him to put in place she realised they were all old photos. None of them was of recent times. They were all from decades ago.

‘Are we ready for the tour?’ Matron burst into the room without knocking.

In that instant, Olive decided she didn’t like her. ‘Do we really have to call you Matron?’ It seemed a little ridiculous considering they weren’t in a boarding school. The formality was unwarranted especially if they were trying to create the warm and welcoming environment all the brochures harped on about.

‘Everyone does. I like to keep this place as shipshape as possible and I’m sure it helps, knowing who’s in charge.’

It was a bit of a lame reason for making Olive feel like she was moving into a Carry On film, but she wasn’t going to argue. If it made the woman feel important then she wasn’t going to point out her role didn’t involve any nursing at all.

Oakley West was a retirement complex. If it was in America they’d be coasting around on buggies and spending their days basking on a golf course. But it was an old hotel on the British coast instead. It was being run by a new company who were selling it as the comfortable way to retire. Rather than warden-controlled flats where you sat by yourself, the hotel facilities allowed for a communal atmosphere where residents ate together and had staff on hand if they required help. It was for the active oldies of the world who wanted companionship and an easier way of life. And instead of golf courses, Oakley West had a programme bursting at the seams with activities on offer. It was enough to make a person want to retire all over again just looking at the timetable.

‘Shall we?’ Matron coaxed them to follow her, obviously in a hurry to get on with it. ‘I know we showed you when you came for a look round, but it’s good to have a refresher now you’re here, to help you settle in.’

Olive thought letting her finish unpacking might help with settling in more, but she couldn’t remember where she needed to head at dinnertime and she was a woman with her priorities in the right place. Knowing where to locate food was obviously very high on the list.

As they followed Matron through the plushly carpeted corridors, Olive wondered why the woman needed to wear a uniform. It took away from the relaxed atmosphere Oakley West was supposed to convey. There was no doubting she was a woman who liked to exert authority. She was one to be aware of, and as she was in charge, it wasn’t the best of starts.

Matron coaxed them into the lifts and they travelled to the ground floor. The reception area was grand and open, with marble floors and lots of seating, not unlike how it would have been when run as a hotel.

‘Here’s reception,’ Matron said, as they reached the front desk. ‘We have a strict policy about people coming in and out. It’s important we have a handle on who is here at any particular time. If anything were to happen we need to know where all our residents are, so the desk is always supervised and we ask that you sign out, letting us know where you’re heading. We ask that all residents are back by dinnertime.’ There was a jolly smile on Matron’s middle-aged face that had a touch of “if you do everything I say, we’ll all get along swimmingly.”

‘What if I wanted to go out for dinner? Surely that’s allowed?’ Olive didn’t like how this woman wanted to take away aspects of her freedom when she wasn’t prepared to let them go.

‘There are lots of opportunity for evening excursions within the activities programme that you can sign up for. There are regular trips for dinners out, theatre visits and the cinema. If there’s anything particular you want to do just let Melanie, the activities coordinator, know. She’ll add it to the schedule for you. We just prefer that, after dark, our clients are supervised.’

‘That seems sensible.’ It was like Richard sensed Olive was ready to argue. ‘This move is to ensure your comfort and safety. They’re not stopping you going out for dinner. In fact, it sounds like they’re encouraging you to participate in a wider variety of activities.’

‘What if I want to just enjoy my own company?’ Olive didn’t know anyone here. She was used to being alone a lot of the time. Being with other people constantly was going to be a rather large shift in her personal dynamics. She wasn’t sure she was ready to be thrust into always being part of a crowd.

‘You can spend as much time in your room as you like and the library is always quiet. And you’re welcome to go out by yourself in the day.’

Richard cleared his throat. ‘My mother rents a beach hut. I’ve some concerns that she’ll spend too much time down there by herself. I’ve asked that she only go down there when she has someone with her. I’m trying to arrange it with her beach-hut neighbours. I’ve been worried for some time that, with the beach terrain, she’s going to end up falling and breaking a hip.’

‘We have supervised trips to the beach as well. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement to make sure you’re happy, Mr Turner.’ Matron smiled at Olive’s son. She had one of those expressive faces that gave away everything. There was a definite twinkle in her eye.

It made Olive shudder. They must be similar in age, and while she’d spent many a year hoping her son might find someone to settle down with, this woman would certainly never get a mother’s approval.