Page 35 of The Seaside Supper Club

Children with buckets and spades were creating their own mini castles in the sands. Birds gathered along the shoreline; sanderlings scurrying, sandpipers skimming the waves before settling to wade, and black-and-white oystercatchers dipping their bold orange bills into the shallows. Cath pointed out a wise-looking heron to the group, who was standing still on one leg, intently perusing the rockpools. She’d spotted him in that very place before; it seemed to be his patch.

Back up at the bungalow, a half-hour later, they settled into their various picnic chairs on the front deck, with Lily perched on a driftwood log, that someone must have hauled up from the sands at some point in the past. Will found he was enjoying today. His health worries were, of course, still very much on his mind, but hosting for the first time at his beach bungalow, offering glasses of chilled white wine for those who fancied it, or a further bottle of beer, and having the company of the group, was serving as a nice distraction.

‘So, what’s the story, Will? How did you come by this cool place?’ asked Lily. ‘I know you inherited it, but tell us more.’

‘Yeah, so this used to be owned by my dad’s cousin. I’ve been wondering what the history of it is. All these seemingly random huts in the dunes. I’ve done some internet digging …’ Will started. He’d been curious to find out more, once he’d learned about his rather unusual inheritance.

‘Yes, these quirky huts in the dunes,’ added Dan with interest, ‘how on earth did they get built here in the first place? No vehicular access. No real planning, by the looks of it.’

There were indeed a hotchpotch of wooden bungalows nestled in the dunes behind the bay, perhaps thirty-five separate small buildings, stretching from the golf club at Embleton, in a scattered trail along to the headland point at Low Newton beach.

‘Well, I’ve done a little research,’ Will explained. ‘And they were originally built by the Dunstanburgh Castle Golf Course that’s positioned behind these dunes, back in the 1930s, as a place for the golfers to stay over.’

‘Ah, okay, that makes sense.’ Dan nodded.

‘Then they were compulsory purchased in the war, as the country prepared for invasion. There were trenches and all sorts of coastal defences set up here. You can still find odd bits and bobs of metal about. After that, when the war was over, they were offered back to the original owners for repurchase, or otherwise sold on. Most likely at a cheap price back then, but now, they can go for big money, as they hardly ever come up.’

‘That’s so cool,’ said Lily.

‘I own the bungalow, but nowadays, the land is leasehold with the National Trust,’ added Will.

‘Ah, I see. So, you don’t own the land just the building,’ clarified Nikki.

‘That’s right. It was Dad’s cousin, Bill, who owned it before. He and his wife. They didn’t have any kids of their own. We came down here once or twice, I seem to remember, years back,’ Will recollected. ‘I can picture playing out on the front deck here, finding grasshoppers in the dunes and collecting shells down on the sands with Mum. There were a few other kids from the huts and I knocked about with them, too. But after that summer, way back, we never came back, not to the hut. I’m not really sure why. And I suppose, later on, it didn’t get used much. It wasn’t mentioned at home over the years, and in time I forgot about it. So did my uncle, by the looks of it, perhaps he and his wife couldn’t keep it up. Didn’t visit much themselves … Uncle Bill was never in good health,’ Will explained further. ‘After Auntie Brenda passed, he went into a care home. My dad would visit him every now and then. He was in there for years before he died recently.’

‘I suppose it hasn’t been used here for years,’ observed Dan.

‘Yeah, left to rack and ruin. Such a shame,’ said Cath.

‘Bet it was a cool place to hang out as kids,’ said Andreas.

‘It’s a pretty cool place to hang out now. If you think of its potential, anyhow,’ added Lily.

It was indeed in the most stunning spot. The gathering gazed out across the awe-inspiring gold and blue hues of the bay, as they chatted.

‘Location, location, location,’ called out Andreas suddenly, waking them all up from their history lesson, as though he was presenting Escape to the Country.

‘This’d definitely be the “wildcard” house,’ said Nikki.

‘Hah, absolutely,’ agreed Cath, knowing the TV programme they were referring to. The wildcard being the quirkiest and out-there kind of option.

Sat on the deck, looking out over the rhythmic swell of the pewter-blue North Sea, with a brief break in the conversation, they could hear its hushing and rushing as it rolled in, breaking in a froth on the shore.

Families were playing on the sands beneath them; laughter, chatter, sandcastles, ball games, dipping toes and splashing in the chilly sea. Dog walkers strolling. Terns and gulls circling above giving their iconic coastal cry; looking up, you could see the white of their underbellies as they turned and dipped. All set against the backdrop of a Northumberland almost-summer sky of azure blue, with plump cumulus clouds in the exact same white and grey shades as those birds.

*

Aromas of fried garlic and onions began wafting from the hut. Dan had started cooking the supper. Andreas was busy in the cramped kitchen area too, setting out a platter of olives and breadsticks, Manchego cheese and mini chunks of chorizo. Outside on the deck, a small plastic table, that Will had brought from his garden shed at home, was set out; ideal for propping their glasses and the snacks to come. Sunshine was streaming in on them.

‘Ah, this is the life.’ Nikki stretched out her lightly tanned legs, which were clad in denim cut-off shorts. ‘The boys are off doing football training with Kev right now. And then they’re visiting Granny after that, who’s making their tea. All four of them, Kev included. Says she never sees enough of the boys these days, what with school and everything. She’s looking forward to spoiling them. So, for one day only, I’ve got free rein.’

Andreas appeared with the nibbles on a tray brought from their flat – honestly, they’d just about brought the kitchen sink with them, it was no wonder he’d turned up shattered after carrying everything – plus a jug of fruity sangria, and a stack of small drinking glasses. The drink gleamed ruby red in the sunshine, and was filled with fragrant orange and lemon slices, diced apple and strawberries.

‘Oh, and life just got even better.’ Nikki grinned.

‘At your service. Sangria by the sea.’ Andreas took a bow.

‘Wow, this is fantastic.’ Cath was delighted. ‘I see we’re going Spanish, hey? A bit of a departure from your usual Greek-Cypriot style, Andreas.’