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‘Thought so.’ It was Randy’s turn to offer a wink. ‘Now, next on the agenda… the garden. We’ll sneak out this way.’
Opposite the snug was another short corridor that led to a fire exit conveniently propped open by a piece of cardboard.
‘This is where the staff sneak out if they want a fag break. To be honest, that’s what they tend to do with their precious fifteen-minute break, which is why they don’t worry about the few residents who help themselves to toast. Matron doesn’t like it really, but she’s also too lazy to come all this way to keep an eye on what’s going on.’
Glancing around, Olive realised she wasn’t in the part of the garden she’d been shown earlier in the day. This was more of a courtyard enclosed all round by the building. ‘This was definitely left off the official tour.’
‘Told you mine featured all the exclusives.’
‘So what is this place?’
‘The rooms that back on to here are where the night staff sleep. It means they aren’t in use during the day, other than the cleaners changing the bedding, so this is where the staff come if they want a few minutes’ fresh air. Although some of the staff have a different interpretation of fresh air than others. It’s not very big, and there isn’t a view, but there are a couple of benches if you ever find yourself in need of hiding away for five minutes. Let me show you round.’
They paced around the small courtyard. It had planted beds in a square, with a couple of bushes overgrown enough to cause the benches to be little hidey-holes. It looked a tad unkempt and in need of attention, but Olive had a feeling the staff left it this way so those hiding spots remained small places of sanctuary. What they really needed was a couple of arbours in which to find harbour. For the first time she sensed a pang of sadness about no longer having her house. The building itself and all the work that came with it wasn’t something she was going to miss, but the garden had been her sanctuary when she’d been at home. Outside space was always where she headed when she needed to feel at one with the world. That was why keeping hold of the beach hut was so important. It meant she wasn’t letting go of her sense of self. Which reminded her what she was hoping to find out. ‘Do you know what room Veronica is in? I want to try and catch up with her and see if she is the lady I’m thinking of.’
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 (#u8c5fe7a2-789a-5f77-8f86-405031620b50)
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.
Not getting too carried away with funny antics, Olive kept close to the wall as it curved round and caught sight of a door closing behind Veronica.
Ah, of course, she wouldn’t be taking the lift that led directly to the centre of the lobby. If anyone was down there they’d immediately know someone was on the move.
Now the corridor was clear, Olive went into hyperspeed with the skating technique. She was at the door quicker than she would have managed if she’d tried to run. It was the most excellent way to get about. If only she could get away with it when other people were watching.
Unsurprisingly, the door Veronica had gone through led to a stairwell. It was a good job she’d spotted Veronica go through here as she would have taken an age finding the stairs otherwise. They were signposted in case of emergencies, but they weren’t directly next to the lifts.
Pushing the door open softly, Olive listened out for movement but could hear nothing below. Veronica obviously had a technique for moving on the stairs unheard as well. The only way Olive could think of to manage that was sliding down the banisters and, as she didn’t want to break her neck, she wasn’t going to attempt that. Instead, she tiptoed and crept down each step as quietly as she could manage.
It wasn’t the quickest way to move and, having already lost sight of Veronica, Olive feared it might all be in vain. At least she knew she wasn’t going dotty and it was the woman she spotted every week at the beach. Thinking about it made her sad not to be there. She’d only been away from her little hut for a few days and she was already missing it. That thought spurred her on to move a little faster. She was still so new here that, if she got caught, she would just claim she was lost.
Turning a corner and starting on the next set of stairs, Olive glanced over the banister to see if there was any sign of Veronica, but there was nothing to see or hear. Maybe Olive wasn’t following her at all. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, it was darker and hard to make out where anyone might have gone. But then a breeze caught the back of Olive’s neck and she turned to see where it was coming from. A beacon in the form of a glow-in-the-dark fire-exit sign guided her to the breeze’s entry point. Like the fire exit Randy had shown her the evening before, this one was also wedged open in the same way. Only this one didn’t lead to a dead-end courtyard. This one led to the outside world.
Chapter Six (#u8c5fe7a2-789a-5f77-8f86-405031620b50)
Olive’s mission was complete so she had no real need to continue the pursuit. She now knew how to escape the building unnoticed, but she still had questions she wanted to ask and now was as good a time as any.
Olive might have lost sight of Veronica, but the route to the beach was a pretty straightforward one. It was a happy fact that moving into Oakley West Retirement Quarters meant she was closer to Westbrook Bay and her beach hut than she’d been from her own house, which was a ten-minute walk away. Oakley was one of the grand buildings directly on the seafront. The road was set back from the coast with a wide expanse of grass before you reached the clifftops. Across the green there were only a few interruptions to the canvas of green and blue. There was a scattering of shelters and benches and further along were the sunken gardens; a place close to her heart, but she didn’t visit often because of the memories it held.
Whenever she came to the beach, she envied the people who lived along the Royal Esplanade: the stretch of road that ran parallel to the coast. Every building was stately in appearance with a mix of private residences, hotels and restaurants, some in more need of repair than others.
Olive had loved the area ever since she’d moved there when she married John. She’d fallen in love with the beach. It was so much quieter than its neighbouring sands in Margate. Here at Westbrook, when it was busy it was full of families and people enjoying various activities on the waterfront. But when it was out of season, it was blissful in the tranquillity it provided.
It was within months of moving here they’d first rented a beach hut. In the early years, they’d had a hut directly on the sands, the children able to access the beach in an instant. It was idyllic. Then, afterwards, when the family had been reduced from four to two, having the beach hut wasn’t the same. There were footprints missing in the sand and no way of finding them there, however hard she looked.
It was when Richard went to university that Olive decided she needed to return to what made her happy. The sound of the sea alone was enough to make her feel at one with the world in a way that couldn’t be replicated. This time, she went for a hut further along. It was set back near the cliff face and offered a different view of the seafront. From there she was able to watch as the dog-walkers and cyclists made their way along the stretch of concrete promenade. It took years, but eventually she found the happiness everyday life had to offer. It wasn’t the same kind as in previous days. It was a reinvention of itself and for that she was thankful.
As Olive walked along the Royal Esplanade, no longer worrying about how much noise she was making or trying to keep up with her target, she took another moment to be thankful. It was a blessing to be this close to the sea, less than five minutes’ walk to her beach hut. It was just a shame she didn’t have the freedom to come and go as she pleased.
Approaching the slope down to the promenade, Olive made no effort to hide from Veronica. Looking out to the sea, she spotted the familiar figure already in the water starting her morning swim. If she hadn’t realised Olive was now resident in Oakley West with her, she planned to tell her before they both left the beach.
Taking her key from her backpack, Olive opened up the beach-hut doors and they let out a gleeful groan at her presence, as if questioning why they’d not seen her in recent days. She was already missing being able to come here as she pleased. Her first scheduled visit was due tomorrow afternoon when Skylar would be here with her son, Lucas.
Olive wasn’t particularly comfortable with the fact that Richard wanted her babysat. She didn’t want the relaxed comings and goings of beach life to be made awkward by her friends feeling obliged to keep an eye on her.
Opening her thermos, Olive hoped it wouldn’t be that difficult to get round her son’s system. They just had to say someone was with her, but he didn’t have any way of double-checking that when he was all the way in London. So if, for example, Skylar needed to go home early because Lucas was hungry or poorly, it shouldn’t mean Olive needed to return to Oakley West as well. She would just have to see how far she could push the boundaries without her son realising.
It was a hot-chocolate kind of morning, so Olive made two and hoped she would easily catch Veronica’s attention once she was out of the water. With her new friend (Olive was ever the optimist) occupied, it gave her time to check the ottoman’s stock. Inside were twelve glorious bottles of some of the finest bespoke gins she knew of. She never drank this early in the morning, it was always her tipple before heading home, but she needed to see if any needed replacing soon and have a think as to whether they were all keepers or whether it was time to switch one to a new variety.
Carefully, she pulled each bottle out and placed it on the counter. She wished she could display them like this more often. They looked so pretty along the side, the colours and designs of each varying from simplistic to intricate. A quick glance told her all the bottles had adequate amounts of gin for her not to worry about having to order any at the moment. That was a good thing, because, as she suddenly realised, she had no idea where she’d get them delivered to. In the past it had always been to her house, but she wasn’t sure what Oakley West would say to consignments of gin turning up.
‘I thought it was you.’
The voice startled Olive enough that she almost knocked some of her precious bottles over. Clutching where her heart should be (it had risen to her voice box), she turned to see Veronica. ‘Gawd, are you trying to kill me?’
‘Not intentionally, but I’m not the one playing at being Bond and hiding in cupboards.’
‘What? How did you know I was there?’ Olive’s cheeks blushed at the thought of being caught out.
‘As soon as I spotted you at Oakley, I knew you’d be wanting to find out how to escape sooner or later. When that door creaked I knew you must be behind it.’
Olive laughed. ‘Not quite a CIA agent yet then? Here, I made a hot chocolate for you.’ Olive offered the mug and a seat. If they were lucky she might still have a packet of biscuits stashed in the biscuit tin.
‘Marvellous. I should have popped by here sooner.’ She took the mug and stretched out her free hand. ‘Lovely to officially meet you. I’m Veronica Owens.’
‘Olive Turner.’ Olive embraced the warmth of Veronica’s hand and already knew they would be kindred spirits. ‘Now, let me see if I can find us some chocolate chip cookies.’
‘Never mind your cookies. I want to know what’s in those bottles.’ Veronica didn’t hesitate in making herself comfortable on one of the deckchairs. It made Olive regret not inviting her over sooner, but then they were both evidently creatures of habit and had their own routines that they stuck to. If it hadn’t been for her move to Oakley West their early-morning polite wave to each other would have continued indefinitely.
Olive tore open the biscuits all the same and offered them to Veronica before settling down herself. She’d not intended telling anyone about her gin hobby, but the row of bottles did require a bit of explaining. ‘For some considerable time now, I’ve been searching for the perfect G&T. I’ve been trying out as many gins as possible over the years and these are my current favourites. It’s always changing, though, as I like to try all the new bespoke ones that are coming out.’
‘Have you found it? The perfect G&T, that is.’
‘Far from it. I think I have plenty of years of research ahead of me. I only ever have one drink at the end of the day.’ It was something they’d done as a couple when John was still alive. It was one of the things she’d continued to do, knowing he would have wanted her to continue their quest to find the perfect combination.
‘Well, you do know how you could speed up this research project, don’t you? I think it’s time you got yourself a research assistant and I’d be more than happy to volunteer.’ Veronica eyed up the bottles with the level of delight they deserved.
Olive hadn’t considered the idea of sharing her hobby. Not because it wasn’t something that couldn’t be shared, more that it was somehow so inextricably linked to life with John. The unspoken toast she always made was private. But then, she also knew this was something she enjoyed and her husband would want that passion to continue.
‘I think any assistance would be welcome, although it’s a bit early today. I normally have one at the end of the day and was hoping to escape out of Oakley West after dinner some evenings. So, if you’re my assistant, tell me, why Tuesday mornings? There must be a reason that’s the day you choose to escape.’ She dunked her biscuit and listened in the hope Veronica would be willing to answer.
‘You’ll soon learn that Oakley West is very much a place of routine. Everything revolves around a timetable. You’re expected at the dining room at certain times, they like you to sign up for activities and take part as much as possible. They like to know where you are at all times, so there aren’t many opportunities to grab five minutes unless it’s in your bedroom.’
‘That’s what I feared,’ Olive said, verbalising her thoughts without meaning to.
‘You’ve obviously not studied the timetable in any detail yet otherwise you’d know that breakfast starts half an hour later on a Tuesday. They have a stock delivery early that morning. Kitchen and medical supplies all at the same time. So, it occupies most of the staff and means there’s a bit more leeway with timings, with breakfast being later. It’s easy to escape on a Tuesday morning. I’ve tried on other days, but there have been too many people about.’
‘Hmmmm… that’s a shame. I’d pop down here every morning if I could get away with it. I thought I’d be able to come to the beach hut as and when I pleased once I’d moved into Oakley West, but it seems my son has other ideas. He’s let me keep the hut, but only if I come here at particular times and it has to be pre-organised to make sure at least one of my friends is about.’ Olive also helped herself to a biscuit. She took her frustration out with her chewing rather than getting onto her soapbox for too long.
‘It’s a bit of a nanny state of affairs. Just because we’re old doesn’t mean we’ve lost use of our senses. You’d think considering it’s only down the road they’d let you come here when you liked.’
‘Oakley West is probably worried about my son suing them if I go and do myself an injury. He probably threatened them with exactly that. He’s a lawyer,’ Olive added, clarifying why he might put those fears into people.
‘Are they going to get someone to walk you down here to make sure you don’t break your hip on the way?’
‘Oh God. I hope not. They’re not going to be that pedantic are they?’
Veronica shrugged. ‘The activity coordinator brings us down here in a group. They do love everything to be supervised.’
‘Hence why you escape on a Tuesday morning?’
‘Yep. I’d go mad if I didn’t come here at least once a week.’
‘I think I’ll go mad if I don’t come here once a day.’ Olive offered Veronica another biscuit and they both took one before she secured them away in the tin.
‘I’ve tried finding other times of day to make an escape, but I’ve not had much luck. Feel free to join me next Tuesday, save you hiding in the cupboard.’
‘Thank you. That’s very kind. And maybe between us we can find another opportunity to escape one evening. Do you think they’d let you walk down here with me, rather than one of the staff?’
‘Wouldn’t that be nice? Shall we ask and see what they say?’ Veronica upended her mug and finished the last of her hot chocolate.
‘We can but try.’ Olive took both the mugs to clean them before they left. It would be weird to have someone come along with her, she was so used to her independence, but she would much rather have Veronica here than be walked along by some healthcare assistant like she’d lost the ability to navigate down the road.
Olive decided to return the bottles to safety and gave Veronica a brief history of each one as she stowed them away. Her favourite varieties at the moment all seemed to be fruit-based in some way: orange zest, rhubarb with ginger, citrus crush. Talking about them was a pleasure and it gave Olive something to smile about, knowing she had a friend wanting to listen to her impart her knowledge.
‘I think life at Oakley West has just started to get interesting.’ Veronica offered a wink.
Definitely a kindred spirit. And with such a strict set-up and so many opportunities to be rebellious, they were going to have great fun. ‘I guess it’s time to head back? Unless we want to get caught.’
‘Oh gosh. Yes, we better had. They’ll be expecting us at breakfast soon.’
Gin and rebellion would have to wait for another day.
Chapter Seven (#u8c5fe7a2-789a-5f77-8f86-405031620b50)
It was a perfect July afternoon with the school summer holidays drawing near. As Olive watched Lucas build a sandcastle empire, she was reminded of the days she used to come down here with Richard and Jane after they’d finished school. The five-year age gap between them hadn’t mattered when there was sand about. It provided exactly the level of entertainment children needed and this hadn’t changed, whatever the generation.
Olive stopped herself from reminiscing too much. She didn’t want the past pulling down the present.
‘How funny that you knew each other from coming to the beach and you’ve both ended up in the same home,’ Skylar said.
