The problem with talking to oneself, Olive found, was that there was no one to answer. It was very hard to reason, with only one brain around to provide an opinion. And as it was Olive’s brain in question, that made it harder still.
‘But where could they possibly have gone?’ Olive was busy dishing out tablespoons of mincemeat and measures of gin, making notes on each kilner jar so she knew what potion was in each. It was very easy to get distracted from the task, though, when she kept checking corners for hidden escape routes, and whenever she heard a creak she was inclined to jump. It was an unsettling feeling, like she’d been burgled, and she felt the violation of her own space in her every move.
To make matters worse, nobody knew who was responsible for the addition of the brown streamers. It wasn’t a prank by one of Olive’s friends as she’d almost been hoping. Because if it wasn’t one of them, it gave her that same feeling of unease the original piece of craft-fiti had. The only saving grace (if it could even be called that) was that it didn’t seem premeditated in the same way as the attack on the Gin Shack. There wasn’t the same level of planning and, donning her criminal-psychologist hat, Olive reckoned there was a chance it was a copycat incident.
‘But only the people at the meeting know about that sign. How can anyone outside of us copycat a crime they don’t know anything about?’ Olive was talking to herself again with no real chance of answers that made any sense. ‘Or whoever did the other one did this in a rush. They saw the beach hut was associated with the Gin Shack and decided to send a message.’
Although it wasn’t a very clear message if it was one, and what grudge would anyone have against the Gin Shack to make them behave in that way? The business hadn’t been open long enough to create any enemies, or at least ones Olive knew of. Perhaps it was the old owners, upset that their failed business had been turned into a success by someone else? It was the only thing she could think of, but, reflecting on it, she remembered the old owners had moved elsewhere, so the business hadn’t folded just because it was flagging. There’d been a purpose behind their selling up.
With three kilner jars filled with differing amounts of her Christmas concoction, Olive decided it was time to head to Tony and Esme’s house for her visit with him. She needed to find another human being to talk to who might help her reason her thoughts.
It was a whole twenty-four hours since they’d thought someone was in the beach hut. They’d headed back to the Gin Shack yesterday to see if anyone knew anything more about why there were brown streamers attached to the sign. Olive had requested that Randy and Veronica make no mention of the supposed intruder. With Richard now in charge of the bar, he would soon hear about it and, as he was a worrywart by nature, she didn’t want him to become concerned. He’d always worried about his elderly mother having free access to the beach hut and was often concerned she’d somehow meet her end while down at the beach. Olive couldn’t think of a better place to be if the worst was to happen, but she didn’t say that to Richard. In some ways, when people got to Olive’s age, it was okay to admit to not being a Duracell bunny, no longer destined to go on for ever. If she was going to die at any point soon, she wanted to do it in glorious style, not cooped up in a room to keep her safe.
Olive was getting breathless and she realised her thoughts were far too maudlin for someone potentially at the point of gasping her last. When did hills get so troublesome? She stopped to catch her breath. It wasn’t even a hill, more of an incline. Tony and Esme’s house wasn’t so very far away from the beach. Two roads away was all, and about the same distance as her old house. Only six months ago, she would have managed that kind of distance with relative ease. Perhaps it wouldn’t do her any harm to have an MOT check with her doctor. It was all too easy to put every ache and pain down to age, when in fact they might be things that could be helped. However much she didn’t want to go on for ever, she wanted to remain healthy for as long as possible. And seeing as she’d already had a mini stroke, which had led to her moving into Oakley West in the first place, it seemed wise to continue getting things checked if ever she was worried.
Her breathing having settled, Olive continued towards Tony’s gorgeous detached property. One of the newer ones along the avenue.
‘Come in, come in.’ Despite being in recovery, Tony was as welcoming in his own home as he was at the Gin Shack. It was obviously in his nature and he soon had Olive settled down with tea and biscuits. She should probably have said no to biscuits. They might be part of the reason her breathing was more laboured these days. Oakley West was making her more rotund with the excellent meals they provided. That thought wasn’t going to stop her, though. She only planned to live once.
It was strange sitting in Tony’s living room. Even though she regarded him as her best friend, she’d rarely had a need to come to his home. It was always at the Gin Shack or the beach huts that they spent time with one another.
‘So, what’s the gossip, Olive? Please help me. I’m getting bored out my mind here.’
Olive wasn’t really one for gossip, although she did like to know what was going on, which was possibly the same thing. ‘Someone added three brown streamers to the Gin Shack sign you got for my hut. They’re the same as the ones that were put on that blooming bottom.’
‘Esme told me about that. I do hope it’s not going to become a regular thing. Have you told Richard?’ Tony dunked a biscuit in his tea and, if he was going to, it was only polite for Olive to join in.
‘Of course not. If he’s worried he’ll have CCTV wired up to his laptop for a twenty-four-hour vigil and I’d be far more concerned about him knowing how many hours I spend there. He’d end up monitoring my activities, not those of the invisible squatter.’
‘He’s far too busy romancing Skylar to worry about what you’re up to. What’s that about a squatter?’
Olive hovered her dunked biscuit over her tea for so long the soggy bit dropped with a splash. ‘Never mind squatters, what do you mean by romancing?’
Honestly, there wasn’t a chance of keeping up if she’d missed what was going on with her own son.
‘I shouldn’t have said anything. I thought Richard would have mentioned it. You must have realised Cupid has been afoot.’
Olive filled her mouth with the solid half of the biscuit that remained. She’d hoped something might be going on, but dismissed the idea. A silly old woman wanting to see her son happy. He clearly wasn’t in his own work, despite the business’s resounding success. But the very fact he’d been so willing to come and take charge of the Gin Shack in Tony’s absence told her that, while accolades and business awards were one thing, finding happiness was quite something else. Biscuit swallowed, Olive needed to know more. ‘Tell me everything you know.’ She arched an eyebrow, even though she couldn’t officially arch an eyebrow, so really, what she was doing was raising both eyebrows and tilting her face. She had to get across the need for information somehow.
‘I’m not sure even I’m supposed to know.’
‘Even better.’ At least if Tony wasn’t supposed to know, then Richard would hopefully be none the wiser that Olive did. ‘Go on.’
Tony shifted awkwardly in his chair. ‘Look, if I tell you, you’re not allowed to let on to anyone that I have.’
‘My lips are sealed,’ Olive said, actually sealing her lips as she said it, making the words sound like a series of farts.
Glancing around the room like someone might appear, Tony hunched forward. ‘Esme babysat for Skylar on Monday night,’ he said in a whisper, raising his eyebrows like it was solid proof something was going on.
‘That could have been for anything.’ Olive was surprised to find she was disappointed.
‘That’s not it. I was bored that evening after a day in the house by myself. All the boys were out at football training, so I thought I’d ring Richard and see if he wanted to come over, seeing as the bar is closed on a Monday.’
‘Yessss…’ Olive raised her eyebrows and tilted her head in that give-me-all-the-info-now kind of way, desperate for Tony to come up with a solid punchline.
‘He answered to see if I was okay and told me he was busy.’
‘And?’
‘I heard Skylar’s voice. I’m one hundred per cent sure it was her.’
Having had her own dose of hearing voices of late, Olive wasn’t sure it was possible to know for certain it was someone unless Tony had voice-recognition software available. ‘How do you know it was her for certain?’
This was more like the solid proof Olive had been hoping for, but she didn’t want to go around in the belief Richard and Skylar were dating if it was based on hearing a voice that might not have been Skylar’s. And even if it had been, they might have been going out as friends to a movie or something they both wanted to watch. Olive would ask Tony out to events, but not mean it as a date. It was perfectly possible for a guy and a girl to just be friends, and besides, for Skylar and Richard to be dating would be just too perfect.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I figured I’d ring Esme up to see if she knew where Skylar was and to let her know Richard wasn’t able to come over because he was busy. Of course she put two and two together in exactly the same way I did, and so when Skylar got home she may have probed her about her evening more than she would have done.’ Tony picked up another biscuit, ready to dunk.
‘And what did she find out?’ Olive was still waiting for a solid piece of information to hang her hopes on.
‘Skylar told her she’d been out on a date with Richard. Of course, Esme wasn’t supposed to tell me, and I’m definitely not supposed to be telling you, so we’re not even having this conversation, okay?’
Olive’s heart did a little skip of joy. She really, honestly, one hundred per cent knew she should not be hopeful about something that must be entirely embryonic, so much so that there was every chance there would never be a second date or a third. So, she really had to ignore the wedding bells clanging in her ears. Or the sense of how wonderful it would be for Skylar, who she already regarded as a surrogate daughter, to become her actual daughter-in-law. No, Olive had to entirely ignore those feelings. She had to avoid trying to push for her son to give her information or to find methods to help the relationship on its way. She knew nothing, she had to remember she knew nothing. But oh, what a glorious speckle of hope to hold in her heart. ‘I won’t say a thing,’ Olive said, knowing she was grinning far too widely to be able to disguise how happy the news had made her.
‘Now tell me about this squatter you’re on about?’
Olive didn’t want to think about that after talking about something that was perfection itself. But the reality was, she was convinced someone had been in there – she just wasn’t sure why or where they had disappeared to. She relayed what had happened to Tony. ‘There’s every chance I might have been trying your boys’ hut by accident, but I know I wasn’t. I just can’t explain what happened otherwise.’
‘That is odd. And you say the towels were folded again? Who else has a key to your hut?’
‘Richard and Skylar and neither of them would use the hut without telling me.’
‘Unless they’re using it for a bit of nooky.’ Tony laughed at his own joke.
At least, Olive hoped it was a joke. She was all for them getting into a relationship, but she wasn’t going to support them getting down and dirty in her beach hut. Skylar had her own one for that kind of thing. And she should certainly be using her own towels. Olive didn’t like to think she was a prude, but she was certain there should be some kind of towel etiquette where such matters were concerned. She certainly didn’t want to be finding any sticky patches among hers. She was done with the wet-dream years. She neither expected nor wished to ever have to clear up such substances from her son ever again.
‘Neither Skylar nor Richard would use the beach hut without telling me.’ Olive needed to be clear on this before her thought patterns made her puke a bit in her mouth. ‘I think someone was sleeping there overnight, although I don’t think anyone did last night. We must have scared them off.’
Thinking about it, Olive was only ever there early on a Tuesday when she and Veronica went for a dip. She’d given up going there early most other days because breakfast at Oakley West was far too tempting to skip, so she tended to set herself up for the day with the hearty food they provided. Then she headed to the beach either in the morning or afternoon, the amount of time she stayed depending on whether she was going to the Gin Shack. She was still working the occasional shift behind the bar, mostly because she liked to, but also because there were days that were a bit low on numbers with Tony not being about. Fortunately, with Tony out of the woods and now in convalescence, it meant the Salter boys and Esme were all happy to return and work shifts as required.
The shift in lifestyle meant Olive wasn’t often at the hut early doors like she once had been. So maybe someone had been staying there a while overnight and it was only now that she’d noticed.
‘If at any point you think they’ve returned, you give me a shout and we’ll do a stakeout to see who turns up.’
‘Won’t that get you in trouble with Esme?’
‘We’ll have to do it one of the nights she’s babysitting for Skylar. She’s booked in for next Monday already.’
‘Really?’ Olive could have swotted Tony for not having told her this piece of information already. If that was the case, surely this meant there was a second date booked. It might even be a third or fourth date for all Olive knew.
‘Yes. So, seeing as we know most of the people who would tell on us will be occupied, it might be a good time to get ourselves into mischief. It won’t hurt if none of them knows.’
‘It’s a date in that case.’ Olive didn’t do dating any more. She was way past wanting any such complications in her life and openly admitted to never having got over the loss of her husband. But if she was going to date, she wouldn’t want to do anything conventional, and hanging out at the beach at night on a stakeout sounded like the kind of thing she’d like to do.
‘And at least this way, if Richard and Skylar are getting it on at your beach hut, we’ll be sure to catch them at it.’
And with that thought, a tiny bit of sick made its way to Olive’s mouth.