Seeing the prettiness of Skylar’s Holly and Ivy cocktail had made Olive realise she really needed to start putting some effort into her recipe, not just in terms of how it tasted, but also how it was presented. She had thought the flavours might match up well with a cinnamon stick, but that seemed way too simple and not Christmassy enough on reflection. She had an idea of what to do, but that all depended on whether they tasted like she hoped.
She’d invited Tony to meet her at the beach huts so they could do a taste testing today, and then she would be able to decide what other ingredients to add. Brainstorming with Tony was always fun. In a way, some of the others might say it was unfair to get the overall boss’s input, but she was inviting him on Esme’s instructions, so there was no way she would get in trouble for that.
Apparently the physiotherapist had said Tony needed to be up and about more, so from now on he needed to be meeting her rather than the other way round. Little did Esme know that Olive had already been helping Tony get out more.
Olive parked her Segway up on the patio part of the beach hut. She found it squeezed very nicely behind the door once it was open, so it didn’t get in the way and neither was it on show for any opportunistic thieves.
She busied herself with getting everything out and ready and, by the time Tony arrived, she had a sample of each of the marinaded gins in glasses. They’d all taken up the brown colouring of the mincemeat, which wasn’t the most appealing look. She’d have to do something to make it more attractive. Would edible glitter mixed in work? Or would that make it more disgusting still? Although it wouldn’t matter if her presentation plan worked.
‘Can I borrow your scooter to head back up the hill?’ Tony threw himself down into a deckchair to catch his breath. It reminded Olive that it wasn’t so long ago she’d nearly lost her friend. Her last memory of him in a deckchair was a very different one.
‘No bloody way. If your physio says you need to get moving more, then I’m afraid I’m doing everything I can to support Esme in getting you back to full health.’
‘I knew you’d be on her side.’ Tony did a mock huff.
‘Would you like a tea before we start on the hard stuff?’
‘That sounds perfect.’
‘Just don’t be telling Esme I’m supporting your health regime by getting you to sample alcohol. I don’t think that would go down so well.’ Olive poured them both a drink from her thermos, glad to have a reason to sit and pause for a while.
‘Has there been any more evidence of someone squatting in here?’ Tony asked, accepting his cuppa gladly.
‘No. Not that I’ve noticed. I think I scared them off when I nearly discovered them that morning. I did stop coming early in the morning to see if that would encourage them back so they’d be caught, but as far as I can tell they haven’t. Although the only big giveaway was the towels, and if they’ve grown wise to that then I’m not sure how I’d be able to tell.’ Olive’s jumper jingled as she drank her tea. She had one for every day of the week and most of them featured bells. This one was decorating the top of a Christmas tree.
‘It does seem odd. That they managed to get in and out without a trace.’
There was still a part of Olive that doubted it had ever happened. That in fact it was one of those days when she had lost a marble. Several of them for that matter. But she knew that wasn’t the case now. Even though she would never really want the squatter to come back and invade her space, at least it would confirm one hundred per cent she wasn’t going crazy. ‘If they were planning on coming back, all the carry-on at that new wine bar would be enough to put them off. They’re really making some noise with all the refitting they’re doing.’
As if on cue, right at that moment some loud drilling started. Olive was sure it was three or four drills, not one, and that they had to synchronise their watches for the specific time they were allowed to start work.
‘Blimey, that’s not exactly a relaxing beach noise. We’ll both need ear defenders with that racket going on.’
Fortunately one of the drills stopped, making it less like sitting on the outskirts of an action movie.
‘Hopefully they’ll be finished soon, otherwise there’ll be no tourists or beach-hut owners wanting to pop by.’ Even though it was the beginning of November, as long as people huddled up nicely, Westbrook Bay was the perfect place to go for a walk, maybe do some crabbing or look for treasures among the rocks. Even the metal-detector gang were avoiding this part of the sands at the moment with all the noise.
As for the beach-hut community, there were fewer of them about at this time of year. The temporary beach huts, only rentable over the summer, were packed up and hidden away from the elements, ready to come out again next season. There were only twenty or so permanent beach huts that were available to rent all year round and Olive’s was one of them. They were slightly more substantial than the seasonal huts and, with their porch areas, they were roomier as well. The rules meant they weren’t for overnight sleeping. It was a shame really because Olive had always liked the idea of staying late to watch the stars and then not having to worry about traipsing back home because she would be allowed to snooze in her deckchair. But the local council, who owned the beach huts, didn’t allow such things.
‘It’s a good job they’re opening soon. If that noise continued for too long it would put everyone off.’
‘It’s the volume. I’m sure we never caused this much disruption when we fixed up the Gin Shack.’ It was possible that was because everyone in the community had been involved, and so no one noticed because they were all there in among the thick of it. Bottoms Up obviously had professional shopfitters in who were on a schedule to get it done. Olive would be glad when it was finished.
‘What have you got here for me to try then?’ Tony pointed towards the brown concoctions lined up along the table.
They really did look like cough medicine. Olive was going to have to work on the appearance. ‘I’ve been trialling something for my Christmas cocktail. I need you to help me taste them to see which has the best flavour.’ Olive wasn’t going to mention she was concerned the little experiment might not have worked at all, given the colour of each of the mixes.
‘What’s in them?’
‘Have a taste and see if you can work it out.’ Olive wasn’t about to tell Tony straight up as she wanted to know if it was possible to work out the flavour without knowing. She needed to know if the taste of Christmas was coming across or if it just tasted like she’d soaked a load of raisins in gin. ‘Go for the one on the left first.’
Olive picked up the same one. It was the faintest colour of brown and the one with the least amount of mincemeat. She’d not mixed them with anything else yet as she didn’t want the flavour to be affected. At the same time as Tony, she took a sip of the mixture.
‘Yum. That tastes like Christmas pudding or mince pies to me,’ Tony said, before taking a second taste.
Tony was right. There was a pleasant background flavour the mincemeat had added that was like the essence of a good mince pie.
They carried on tasting the other four samples, with their differing amounts of mincemeat to gin, and both agreed the second one gave the best level of flavour, with neither ingredient overstating the other.
Deciding what to mix it with and how to present it was quite another task in itself. Tony thought it would be fine with just a simple tonic, whereas Olive thought adding something like a Cognac would add richness to the flavour, with perhaps some champagne to really bring it to life. She needed to try them out to see what worked best and Tony agreed a regular walk to her hut was certainly worth it if this was what he got to do at the end of the journey. Olive just had to hope he didn’t stagger back or she really would be in trouble.
‘How are you going to compete with Skylar’s Holly and Ivy decorating efforts? You’ll have to do something fancy.’
‘For that, I’ve had an idea.’
‘Have you? What are you going to do?’
‘I figure it’s going to be the Mince Pie cocktail, so I wanted to fashion the glasses somehow so they look like a mince pie.’
‘How you going to do that?’ Tony took another sip of the gin. It was obviously moreish.
‘I want a martini-style glass that’ll be silver on the outside, like it’s a mince pie case. Then I need to find something that’ll look like pastry on top with a straw through it to get to the drink. I’m not sure what to use and it’s a bit Heston Blumenthal, but whatever it takes to win.’
Because even though Olive wasn’t a competitive soul, it turned out she’d really like to win this. After all, she was the Gin Queen, and in the same way the Gin Shack could do with an award, she’d quite like the crown to go with it.