The sand was flat and wet, the tide having not long receded, the sun shone high above and a gentle breeze wafted briny air towards them. It was a perfect day for the beach. As they strolled towards a red and white striped tent, from which Bay Radio blasted out golden oldies, her suspicions grew. Squeals andlaughter rose above ‘Club Tropicana’ and she could see small groups of children hard at work with spades.
‘Hi,’ an affable-looking youth in a high-vis jacket carrying a clipboard said. ‘You looking to enter?’
‘We are,’ Johnny answered, equally cheerfully. He peered at the name badge the boy wore. ‘If that’s okay, Eli.’
‘Cool. Just let me have the names and ages of your children and I’ll jot them down and they can get started.’ Eli peered behind them. ‘No buckets and spades? No worries, we have spares.’ He paused, looking uncertain, his dark hair flopping over his forehead. ‘Sorry, I can’t see your children. They can’t begin until I enter them.’
‘It’s us who’d like to enter,’ Johnny said.
‘You?’ Eli’s mouth fell open.
‘Yes, hope that’s not a problem? I can give youournames and ages, if you like.’ Johnny turned to Callie. ‘Unless you don’t want to reveal your age?’
‘I’m fine with that,’ she answered on a long breath, beginning to get a fit of the giggles.
‘Erm… ah… I don’tthinkit’s against the rules,’ Eli stuttered, making Callie feel sorry for him. He didn’t look much beyond twenty. ‘But I’ll have to check. Hold on a sec.’ He disappeared into the red and white tent from where they heard an animated discussion and then uproarious laughter.
‘Are you serious, Johnny?’ Callie hissed over Katy Perry. ‘California Gurls’ had replaced Wham. ‘A sandcastle competition?’
‘Why not? Think we need to do something frivolous, don’t you? And we’re by the seaside and on holiday. It’s what you do. Besides, I can use it for the article.’
‘What article?’
‘The one I’m writing on British seaside holidays. Great research.’
‘Oh yes, I remember you mentioning it.’ She grinned, slightly mollified. ‘I suppose, if it’s in the interests of research, I don’t see how wecan’tnot do it. Consider me a fellow constructor in sand, then.’
Eli returned, looking pink and flustered. ‘Boss says you’re good to go. We’ll waive the questions, but you still need to pay the entrance fee. It’s three pounds each. All proceeds to the RNLI. It’s a Lifeboat Week fundraiser.’
‘In that case, I’ll add a donation.’ Johnny popped a few twenty-pound notes into the yellow bucket Eli held out.
‘Wow. Thanks, that’s well cool. Go through out the other side of the tent and you’ll see what to do. Well,’ he amended, ‘I suppose you’ll know what to do. You being adults and that. Have fun guys.’ Callie could feel Eli’s bemused gaze on their backs until his attention was claimed by a family of five.
They went into the tent. A deck had been set up by Bay Radio, from where a middle-aged man wearing headphones grinned at them. ‘When I’m Sixty-four’ by The Beatles began to play.
‘Cheek.’ Callie said to Johnny. ‘I’m only forty-two.’
He grabbed a couple of pastel sparkly spades and two buckets from a dark corner of the tent and pointed them, through the open flap, towards the sea. ‘Come on. Work to do. We need to find our spot. Optimum sand to sea ratio.’
‘Thought this was supposed to be fun,’ Callie teased, following him. This part of the beach, the one nearest town, was pegged out with blue nylon rope enclosing the space. It was awash with groups of children industriously creating sandcastles of all shapes and sizes. What looked like the judge, in a high-vis waistcoat and with another clipboard, passed between them, taking pictures and putting a flag into those which had been finished.
Although Callie was relieved to see family groups which included adults, she couldn’t see any child-free adults.Embarrassingly, it looked as if they were the only participants over ten years of age. Scanning the beach, a hand held up to shield her eyes from the blazing sun, she grinned. There was another adult. And he was definitely making sandcastles. ‘Oh, there is one grown-up on his own,’ she said. ‘Look over there.’
In the drier sand near the wall separating beach from prom, was a man carving sand sculptures. He’d gathered quite a crowd. Amongst his creations was a tyrannosaurus rex, a giant gorilla, and most impressive, a detailed and to scale pirate ship.
‘Hope you’re not going to attempt to rival that.’ She laughed, as Johnny glanced at the sand sculptor.
‘You never know. I’m a man of many talents.’ He resumed studying the beach for the perfect spot. ‘Over there,’ he pointed and strode off seawards.
Callie was thankful he’d chosen to be away from most of the children; it made her slightly less self-conscious. The sea lapped contentedly not far from their feet, frothing as it met the sand. Gulls called and swooped and the air smelled of seaweed, salt and hot sun. It was the most delicious day. All introspection from earlier fled and she gave herself up to the simple pleasures of sun, sea and sand. ‘What’s the plan?’
Johnny slid his sunglasses onto the top of his head and surveyed her with narrowed eyes. ‘Moat, I think, don’t you? With a channel to the sea. And Camelot?’ He chuckled.
‘Nothing like ambition. Does that make you King Arthur?’ She began to mark out a circle for the moat.
‘Only if you’ll be my Guinevere,’ he answered cheerfully, beginning to dig.
‘Didn’t she come to a sticky end, what with Lancelot and all? Can I be Morgan le Faye instead?’ She paused and looked up. ‘Always fancied being a baddie.’
