‘If I’m out of hospital and bored at home, then we need to sort that out. Just don’t tell Esme that’s what we’re doing. She’ll think it’s potentially going to stress me out, but really, it’s no worse than watching Masterchef, only I’ll have a bit more of a vested interest in this episode.’
‘I’d say so.’
‘And Olive, if it really is worrying you, you should go to your doctor. I’m pretty much testament to not ignoring things that don’t seem quite right.’
Olive nodded. If even Tony was telling her she needed to, then she needed to consider it. ‘I will. If anything else happens, I will.’
It was two days later that most of the Gin Shack crew were gathered in the bar making sure everything was ready for the interviewees. Esme was there, looking flustered, the strain of taking on the role of employer alongside her worries for Tony showing on her features. She was a woman in desperate need of a good sleep, preferably followed by a spa break. Olive would have to talk to Tony and see if they could arrange something as a surprise.
Besides Esme, all three of the Salter boys were there: TJ, Aiden and Noah. Randy and Veronica were there for the show along with Skylar and Paul. Mark and Lily weren’t able to join them, but, to be fair, the interview panel was already larger than most people would be used to dealing with, so it didn’t hurt that those working conventional hours weren’t able to make it. They were lucky Richard was coming down from London a day early to cover a shift, but he couldn’t leave early enough to join them for this.
Olive was missing Tony being there. Somehow it didn’t seem right making decisions about the Gin Shack without him. Although, with Aiden’s assistance, Tony was going to get to view proceedings if they got the angle right. She stole a glance at Tony’s son, who was sitting on a bar-stool at the end of the bar, apparently uninterested in what was going on, too busy with his phone. Olive knew he was setting it up ready to do a Messenger call with his dad so Tony could watch the interviews from the comfort of home. Although, knowing Esme, he wouldn’t be allowed to hold it during the interview (too right, really), so Aiden was finding a way to angle it correctly without it being obvious what was going on. It looked like he might end up propping it up against the till.
‘Who’s in charge of asking the questions then?’ Skylar asked.
‘I haven’t really come up with any formal questions.’ Esme took a pew at the bar next to her son. She had a clipboard ready to take notes. ‘I thought I could bring them in and introduce them to everybody then let them get on and do their thing. I was hoping you lot would ask some questions almost like you were customers at the bar. Just ask whatever you think is appropriate. Nothing rude.’ Esme gave a motherly stare at her twin boys. They might both have reached adulthood now, but the two eighteen-year-olds still had the essence of being teenagers running through them. ‘Do you all want to take a seat? The first interviewee should be here soon.’
There were enough bar-stools for all of them and Olive wished she could take a photo of them all lined up, their reflections a picture in the mirrors behind the bar. If anyone had ever told her this was what she’d be up to at this stage of life, she wouldn’t have believed them. The Gin Shack constantly made her feel like she was getting the chance to live all over again.
The first candidate arrived and they all carried out their introductions. He was young, probably early twenties, and a little too sure of himself. When he was asked to produce his cocktail recipe, he replied with: ‘What? You really want me to make a cocktail? I thought that was a joke.’
He went on to make a martini with no flare whatsoever and Olive would have taken a bet on its being the only drink he could muster. She took an instant dislike to him, but there was every chance he was the best of a bad bunch. Young and cocksure might be as good as it got.
‘Well, he was rude,’ Paul said, once he’d left. ‘Who takes a request to present a cocktail as part of an interview as a joke? Talk about a timewaster.’
It made Olive smile. If Paul was saying aloud what she was thinking, it really had been a poor interview. It was funny to think that Paul, who hadn’t even liked gin before, was now becoming quite the expert.
They waited another ten minutes for the next candidate to arrive and in that time mulled over which cocktails they would produce to impress at an interview. A Negroni was the popular choice and one that would definitely win Olive over, especially if someone managed to give their own twist on a classic.
The next interviewee was a woman, and having a woman at the helm was something Olive fully supported.
Esme brought her through to the bar and, like last time, introduced all of them by name. ‘Right, Helen, if you’d like to make your cocktail.’
At the name, Olive immediately paid more attention. It couldn’t be. She was a blonde for starters.
This Helen was busy gathering all the things she wanted to create her cocktail and hadn’t turned to face Olive. Leaning forward, she tried to gain Randy and Veronica’s attention, but they were busy chatting to each other, possibly having the same moment of recognition Olive thought she was having.
Surely she wouldn’t have the audacity? But when she turned around with her array of spirits and mixers, Olive drew in her breath sharply. ‘You can’t even be in here. You’re barred.’
Sure enough, it was Matron. The woman who’d been in charge of Oakley West and made the residents’ lives a misery, all while turning a blind eye to the fact that her stepdaughter had been breaking the law in the rafters of the building. She’d been arrested, but never charged, as there wasn’t enough evidence to point to her involvement. She’d lost her job and the living quarters as a result, though, but showing up here after everything she’d done, and given how she’d never liked Olive, was just rude. Or desperate. Whichever, she was never going to be welcome here.
‘That was before. I was hoping, now Tony’s gone, it could all be water under the bridge.’ The woman in front of them didn’t look like Matron. She’d dyed her hair and it was cut into a cropped bob. She was a sixty-year-old trying to be thirty, and while Olive was all for not letting age define a person, she did think looking in the mirror to work out what suited always helped.
‘You really do have a screw loose.’ Randy got up from his stool, obviously getting ready to escort her from the premises. Hopefully they wouldn’t need to involve the police this time.
‘Too right.’
Olive heard a familiar voice followed by coughing from Aiden. Clearly Tony had forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to talk during the video chat. Hopefully Esme hadn’t noticed and there was some way of muting him without her noticing.
‘Time to go.’ Paul also stood up, in solidarity with Randy.
This was the woman who’d effectively stopped them from coming and going freely when she’d been in charge of Oakley West. All under the guise of caring for the residents, when really she’d been helping (not that it had been proven) with underhand criminal activities. She really must be a little bit out of her mind if she thought they were going to welcome her with open arms and put her in charge.
‘I’m going, okay. There’s no need to get the heavies involved.’ Matron moved from behind the bar, leering at Randy and Paul as she passed them. It was fortunate their old Matron had enough sense to realise that staying would only get her in trouble.
‘And don’t come back,’ Esme said. ‘You are barred from the premises. Just because Tony isn’t here, doesn’t mean it doesn’t still apply.’
Leaving,