Page 17 of The Seaside Supper Club

Cath took off her rucksack, found the cups and flask, and poured. They sat for a few precious minutes, sipping coffee as they gazed across that amazing vista, watching oystercatchers dipping their beaks and sanderlings scurrying at the shoreline, with the shushing sounds of the sea rolling onto the sands, the smell of salt and a gentle breeze teasing Cath’s hair.

Embleton Bay was already casting its calming magic.

*

Cath packed away the empty cups and flask, and they walked from the bungalow out and down the dune to the front and via some rather rickety wooden steps, onto the sands, where Will took her hand. Whilst realising the huge practical, and no doubt costly, project the beach hut would be, they still gave each other smiles filled with hope. For both of them, this felt like a new adventure in life, timing perfectly with their blooming relationship.

They strolled back to the village along the beach, passing a couple walking their Labrador, a few hikers with sturdy boots and rucksacks, and a sand-encrusted toddler building sandcastles with his mum. Cath and Will made their way around the headland, where a far smarter bungalow than theirs graced the dune point. Along they went, hand in hand, and up the concrete causeway where small fishing and pleasure boats could be pulled in. Then, they passed the white-painted former fisherman’s cottages; one with vivid-purple petunia flowers in pots on the sill, another with an old conifer-green glass float and a lobster pot positioned outside the porch.

They found a corner table in The Ship Inn, nestled between an old sash window and a stone hearth with a cast-iron log burner. Dried hops and twigs trailed high above them from the ceiling. Paintings of moody seascapes and sepia pictures of boats were displayed on the uneven grey-and-honey stone walls.

This characterful cosy pub had been a social hub and refuge for its fishing community for hundreds of years, and more recently for local residents and tourists. It must have a few stories of its own to tell, plus secrets to guard in its time, having been part of this coastal village life for over two hundred and fifty years.

Cath sat down on a wooden settle, whilst Will headed off to the bar in the hunt for a much-needed pint, still trying to absorb the reality of the task ahead with his new inheritance. He soon came back, bringing a real ale from the pub’s microbrewery for himself and a cider for Cath, along with a couple of packs of sea-salted crisps.

‘Thanks.’

‘Cheers.’ He took up the seat opposite Cath. ‘Well then, that was an interesting escapade into my inheritance. And jeez, there’s a whole load of work to do to make it shipshape. Excuse the pun.’ That was an understatement, but Will was clinging on to positivity.

‘There is indeed,’ agreed Cath, thinking drily, a mountain of work.

‘Yeah, we’ll need to get the professionals in to check the roof and sort out any major external joinery issues. We have to make it structurally sound first, and then …’

‘And then … there’s the inside to tackle,’ Cath added, her eyes wide.

They looked at each other. The task was actually monumental. There was a pause, as the reality of the renovation project began to sink in. If she’d been hoping to find some time to put on a social event for the elderly, then she’d likely just lost it to this project.

‘Hmm, I think we might need a few helpers with this one,’ said Will, before taking a large sip of his pint.

‘And hey, we know just where to find them,’ Cath mooted, remembering the village hall renovations. ‘Our trusty supper clubbers, and perhaps a handy DIY tradesperson friend or two.’

‘Yes, they were brilliant at helping with Tilldale’s hall. But this is more of a personal project,’ Will noted. ‘Perhaps, I’d be better just ticking away at things myself.’

‘True. Or, maybe we could hold a Seaside DIY SOS,’ Cath added with a grin. ‘Do you think we might be able to lure them in with an offer of a seaside supper or a beach picnic?’

‘Hah, sounds a good idea. Definitely worth a try, anyhow.’ He gave a smile, which lifted her hopes. With so much to do, they needed to keep positive, after all.

Cath then glanced out of the pub’s sash window, which lifted her spirits even more. ‘And hey, it’s certainly got one thing going for it, big time.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Location, location, location.’

The two of them gazed out, past the grassy green of the village square, the fishermen’s cottages, to the golden beach and the rocky outcrop near the headland, and on to the North Sea which was rolling in in hues of greys, blues and greens.

‘Well, it’s got that in spades,’ Will agreed.

‘Buckets and spades.’ Cath grinned.

‘And, it also has a very good local, which serves an exceedingly good pint.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Well, I’ll drink to that.’

‘Cheers.’

They clinked glasses.