Christmas at the Gin Shack. Catherine Miller

way to the High Dependency Unit.

      ‘Are you okay, Mum?’ Richard asked.

      The lift was empty apart from them. Olive was able to answer sincerely. ‘I’m just worried about how Tony’s going to be.’

      ‘He’s alive. That’s the important part. And he wants to see you.’

      Considering how Tony had appeared when they last saw him, Richard was right. Anything would be an improvement. But it didn’t take away the worry that had been with her since she’d heard that ominous sound and realised it was coming from her friend.

      Olive took a deep breath and prepared herself for the state Tony would be in.

      As it stood, her concerns were eased the moment she saw him.

      Rather than being half-comatose in bed like she’d imagined, he was sitting up in a chair. If he hadn’t been topless, with a fresh surgical scar along his sternum and various tubes coming from various places, he wouldn’t have looked so different from when he was chilling in his deckchair.

      ‘Here she is! The hero of the hour.’ Tony beamed when he spotted Olive.

      There was nothing more reviving than hearing Tony’s voice when it had been so close to extinction.

      ‘You could have just asked if you wanted a snog. It really is despicable to go to such lengths to grab my attention.’ Feeling sturdy again for the first time since it happened, Olive let go of Richard’s arm and went to give Tony a peck on the cheek.

      ‘Olive Turner, you are not allowed to make me laugh at the moment. It bloody hurts.’ Tony held a towel against his chest as if the act of laughing might split him in two.

      Olive could quite imagine it would hurt given the surgery he’d undergone. ‘Sorry. I’m just glad you’re okay.’ It was horrible to think how close they’d come to an entirely different scenario.

      ‘And all thanks to you two. Esme has filled me in on what happened. It would seem you two are my guardian angels. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.’

      ‘By getting better. That’s the only thanks necessary.’ Olive didn’t need any more scares like that at her age.

      ‘Yes, getting better is definitely on the agenda. That was the other reason I wanted to talk to you, other than thanking you for the kiss of life. I’m not sure what to do about the Gin Shack while I get back on my feet. With what the doctors are saying, I won’t be up to full-time work this side of Christmas. We’ll need someone to be in charge while I’m away.’

      ‘Don’t be worrying about the Gin Shack. You and Esme need to concentrate on you.’ All Olive had done for the past couple of days was worry about Tony. Of course that was all her brain would consider when he’d been carted off in an ambulance with one foot in the grave. Trust Tony to not only be up and smiling, but also worrying about the business already.

      ‘Mum’s right. This heart attack has been your body’s way of saying you need to slow down. Take things easy for a while and allow yourself to recover your strength gradually. You shouldn’t be here, barely two days post-op, worrying about the bar.’ Richard was talking sense. He always did, but for once Olive was agreeing with his sensible side.

      A nurse came to check on Tony, carrying out observations and filling out a form with all the correct information. She did it discreetly so as not to disrupt the conversation, and it was clear she was keeping a close eye on her patient. Watching her, it was clear that, however chipper Tony seemed, he wasn’t out of the woods yet. There were chest drains doing their job, a catheter bag making up for the fact he wasn’t up and about yet, and various monitors beeping in therapeutic harmony. It was amazing how hearing the rhythm of a heartbeat in the background was a comfort in itself.

      ‘I know I need to recover. It’ll be six weeks minimum before I can get back to work.’

      ‘No running before you can walk, Tony,’ the cheerful nurse said. ‘The physios will be here shortly to help you with that when visiting is over.’ Seemingly satisfied with her checks, the nurse returned to the nearby desk.

      ‘Honestly, you’ve got to not worry about work.’ Richard was being far sterner than Olive could ever hope to be.

      ‘It’s just…’ The smile on Tony’s face ebbed away and his voice lowered to more of a whisper. ‘…With being self-employed these days, I don’t have the same perks as my old job. I’m worried about how we’ll get by if we don’t keep the Gin Shack going, especially with Christmas coming up.’

      Olive hadn’t really thought about the incredible financial strain it would put on the Salter family if the Gin Shack was out of action. She was only involved with it for pleasure and to support the Salter family in their new venture. Just because Tony couldn’t be at the helm for a while didn’t mean it should stop running. There had to be a way. She just wasn’t sure how a bunch of OAPs would manage it and, for now, Esme and the boys, who were heavily involved with working at the bar, should be allowed the opportunity to spend time with Tony, given the scare they’d all had. ‘You’re not to worry about it. We’ll sort something. As soon as I get back we’ll have a meeting with everyone and come up with a plan.’ She had no idea what that plan would be, but with Tony worrying it paid to sound confident even if she wasn’t.

      ‘Mum’s right. There’ll be some way to get through the coming months without closing the Gin Shack. We’ll work out a way. You concentrate on getting better. Leave the rest to us.’

      A monitor started beeping and it was quite a contrast to the rhythmical sounds Olive had been enjoying. Alarm pricked through her like she was going to have to start the kiss of life for a second time that week, when once in a lifetime had been quite enough.

      The nurse came over and adjusted one of the leads attached to Tony’s chest. Thankfully the beeping stopped. ‘Time we sorted getting you back into bed, Tony. I’m afraid you’ll have to say goodbye to your visitors.’

      It was a surprise to find they’d been there over an hour already. Olive and Richard left the experts to it as they carefully moved Tony with his wires and his tubes, and, as they left, Olive took a moment to listen to that glorious recording of a ticking heart. It really was frightening how quickly something so essential could be taken away. And she knew how lucky they’d been that Tony’s had been revived.

      And, in an odd way, the Gin Shack was the beating heart of their community. It had certainly revived Olive’s life in ways she’d not thought possible at her age. There was no way they could allow it to close. They just needed to work out how to keep it running. And quickly.

Chapter Five

      As it turned out, they didn’t need the formal meeting Olive thought might be required. In Esme’s eagerness to make sure Tony’s mind was put at ease, she’d already sent an advert for a temporary manager to the local paper. The closing date was in a week’s time, so they just had to keep their fingers crossed that someone suitable applied.

      In the meantime, they sorted out a rota to cover the week and agreed they’d continue with that pattern of cover until someone was brought in to cover Tony. It meant the number of nights they were all doing was spread evenly and someone was put in charge each night. It was fortunate that, having helped Tony from the ground up, so many of them were familiar with the running of the Gin Shack. They would be a bit thin on numbers with the Salter boys, all of whom were now old enough to work behind the bar, also absent, but they needed to be spending time with Tony. The customers knew what had happened. News travelled fast in the beach-hut community, especially as Tony’s moment had been so spectacularly public. The Gin Shack was an extension of that community so it was no surprise that everyone was aware and being incredibly understanding as a result.

      It meant Olive was able to get on with life as usual apart from having to be at the Gin Shack for a couple of extra evenings that week. It was leaving her with a strange sense of loss. She’d not lost Tony, but, somehow,