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.
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