A Day at the Beach Hut

by Veronica Henry

  She closed her eyes as the delicious smells wafted over: there was bacon, and something sweeter, and the scent of fresh coffee too. It was warm in the sunshine and she could feel herself drifting away.

  She started as she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Harry standing over her. How could he be there? Was she dreaming? But there he was, his hair copper-bright.

  ‘Harry?’

  ‘Yes. It’s me.’

  Oh, the warmth in his voice. She smiled, and a feeling of comfort crept over her. And then her eyes slid into focus and she realised it wasn’t her Harry, the Harry who had shaken her hand over the tennis net all those years ago, but his namesake. Their grandson.

  ‘Granny? Breakfast’s ready.’ He had the same easy smile as his grandpa. ‘We thought we’d eat outside. Come on.’

  He held out a hand to pull her from the depths of the chair. She covered up her disappointment and confusion, and followed him outside. There was a feast on the rickety old table, and a pile of tin plates, and her heart buckled at the sight of the effort they had gone to just for her: putting the orange juice into a jug when normally they would have poured it straight from the carton, carefully laying out the butter on a saucer rather than sticking their knives straight into the packet.

  ‘We’ve made banana pancakes,’ said Meg proudly, holding out a plate with a towering stack of golden pancakes surrounded by slices of banana.

  ‘And bacon. Because a holiday’s not a holiday without a bacon sandwich,’ declared Edward.

  ‘You can have both,’ said Harry.

  ‘Oh,’ said Elspeth. ‘How wonderful.’

  And she sat in the sun as they fussed around her, the three of them, and she felt her heart fill with pride at what magnificent human beings they had become, and thought how proud her Harry would be of them for looking after her.

  Later, when they had all gone off surfing, she went to find the letter. She thought she had folded it up and put it behind the bread bin. But it wasn’t there. She searched high and low, but it was nowhere to be seen. She felt panicky. Was this the first sign of some kind of dementia? She lived in dread of losing her marbles. She’d definitely kept it. She knew she had.

  And now she had no way of getting in contact with whoever had sent it. She tried to remember their family name, but it escaped her. And she certainly couldn’t remember the number. Perhaps they had put the letter through all the beach hut doors on Everdene? She could ask her neighbours if they had a copy?

  Maybe she had thrown it away? She opened the cupboard door under the sink and pulled out the uselessly small bin. She emptied the contents carefully, rooting through coffee grounds and egg shells. At the bottom she found it, torn into tiny pieces, soaked with bin goo. Unreadable.

  She turned to see Harry standing in the doorway. There was a look of guilt on his face.

  ‘It was all of us,’ he said. ‘Meg found it, while you were out. We were worried you would sell. But we don’t ever want to lose this place.’ He looked anguished – a mixture of shame and anxiety. ‘We were going to see if we could afford to buy it between us. We’ve all got money saved up – birthday money, and Edward won a premium bond, and we thought Dad might lend us the rest.’

  Meg appeared in the doorway behind him and her cheeks went red. ‘It was me that tore it up. I can’t bear the thought of anyone else in here.’

  Elspeth was flooded with relief, overjoyed that they were so adamant. Now she had the perfect reason not to make a difficult decision.

  ‘Darlings, as long as you want to come here, I will never sell. I just thought perhaps you’d grown out of it, and it was a bore coming here, and you’d rather be off somewhere else.’

  ‘No way!’ said Edward, bringing up the rear. ‘We don’t ever want to go anywhere else on holiday. It’s perfect here. It’s where we belong.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Elspeth, ‘the bin’s the right place for it.’

  She stuffed all the rubbish back in the bin with a smile.

  She would make the hut over to the three of them instead. If one day in the future they decided they wanted to sell it, for whatever reason, they could sort it out between them. Happy, carefree days by the sea were far more important than a deposit on a house.

  ‘It’s a cheek,’ said Meg. ‘Sending a letter like that. Who do they think they are?’

  ‘But who wouldn’t want this place? You can’t blame them,’ said Edward.

  ‘Well, they’ve got a bloody long wait. We’ll never sell. Never.’ Harry was as determined as his grandfather, and Elspeth smiled to herself.

  ‘There’s a lot that needs doing, though,’ said Elspeth. ‘The roof’s coming off. The floorboards are rotten. And without Grandpa—’

  ‘We’ll fix it,’ said Harry. ‘Write a list, and we’ll do it this week. Me and Edward can get the bus to the DIY shop.’

  ‘And me,’ said Meg. ‘I’m handy with a hammer. We do DIY at school.’

  So they sat in the sunshine, eating the last of the banana pancakes, writing out all the things that needed to be done, and a shopping list, and Elspeth was astonished at how enthusiastic they were about the project. She hoped their enthusiasm would last, for the hut would be theirs by the time she had got back home and talked to her solicitor. She thought it probably would. They were certainly engrossed in their plans.

  ‘A beach hut is for life,’ said Meg, summing it up for all of them. And as Elspeth looked down the row of huts, smiling at the memory of the first time she had come here, and how it had felt like home the moment she set eyes on it, she felt certain that Harry would agree.

  ‘A beach hut is for life,’ she murmured, and tucked into the last pancake which they had all decided should be hers.

  BREAKFAST RECIPES

  There is nothing more exhilarating or life-affirming than waking up at the seaside, watching the sun peep over the horizon, gradually spreading a gilded light over the water, changing the colours from pearl-grey to a bright blue as the salty air kisses your skin.

  Not everyone in my house shares my enthusiasm for watching the sun come up, and I’m secretly rather glad. I love nothing better than getting up before everyone else and padding around, making coffee and deciding what to have for breakfast. There is a certain pleasure in being the only one up yet feeling the presence of your loved ones as they slumber then gradually emerge, one by one, in need of rehydration and caffeine and sustenance.

  Now is the time for an early morning dog walk or swim. I can be sure that if I don’t fit in the exercise first thing it will never happen … Usually for me it’s a dog walk with my miniature schnauzer Zelda, together with my friend Alice and her wire-haired dachshunds Gimli and Delphi. An hour’s brisk trot across the damp sand and we put the world to rights.

  Sometimes I go and join in a beach yoga session – downward dog in the sand is definitely a challenge, usually leaving me weak with laughter. A dip in the sea is exhilarating and bracing: every time I have to steel myself to take the plunge but afterwards I feel a million dollars.

  Then it’s back home to lure everyone out of bed. I often buy bags of croissants and pains au chocolat to leave on the side for everyone to help themselves. And nothing says the weekend or holiday time like fried bacon or sausages squashed between slices of white bread and squirted with ketchup, but you don’t need a recipe for that.

  I also love a ‘breakfast board’, reminiscent of the very best hotel offerings. A big plate with some Parma ham and chunks of Emmental or Manchego; a tumble of fruit (melon and grapes and pineapple; some fresh peaches or nectarines); bowls of creamy Greek yoghurt; fresh bread and pastries; local honey and homemade jam. It’s a lovely lazy start to the day and it can sit there until everyone has had their fill.

  But if there’s time, I love to set everyone up for the day with one of these favourites: a little extra effort goes a long way first thing in the morning.

  Banana pancakes

  These are inspired by the iconic beach song by Jack Johnson. Yo
u can’t listen to it without a smile on your face, and somehow the making of banana pancakes is the ultimate demonstration of love, whether they are for family, friends or a special someone. Sit on the steps with a plateful and watch the sea. Bliss.

  SERVES 4 (ABOUT 8 PANCAKES)

  180g plain flour

  ½ tsp baking powder

  1 tbsp caster sugar

  1 ripe banana, mashed until runny

  1 × 250g tub ricotta – empty it then use as a measuring cup

  1 tub milk

  3 large eggs, separated

  Butter for frying

  To serve

  2 bananas, sliced

  Maple syrup

  (Play Jack Johnson loud while cooking.)

  Combine the dry ingredients in one bowl. Mix together the mashed banana, ricotta, milk and egg yolks in another bowl. Whisk the egg whites until they form stiff peaks.

  Stir the ricotta mix into the dry ingredients, then fold in the egg whites.

  Melt the butter in a standard-size non-stick frying pan over a medium-low heat. Using the empty ricotta tub, pour just under half a tub of the batter at a time into the melted butter. Cook for 2–3 minutes on one side until you can see tiny bubbles over the surface, then flip and cook for another 2 minutes. You can cook two to three pancakes at a time, adding a little extra butter to the pan each time, but keep a sharp eye on the heat to make sure they don’t catch.

  Wrap the cooked pancakes in foil and keep warm in a low oven. When you have a lovely pile, drizzle with maple syrup and surround with the banana slices.

  Shakshuka

  The smell of these Middle Eastern eggs cooking on the stove top is guaranteed to lure your guests from beneath their duvet. The chilli gets your endorphins going, and the smoky tomato mixture cuts into the richness of the egg. I cook this in a flat-bottomed wok, but you can use a frying pan.

  SERVES 2

  ½ tbsp coconut oil (or olive oil if you prefer)

  1 red onion, finely chopped

  1 red chilli, finely chopped

  ½ red or yellow pepper, or mixture of both for colour, thinly sliced

  2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

  ½ tsp smoked paprika

  ½ tsp ground cumin

  Sea salt to taste

  1 × 400g tin chopped tomatoes

  1 tsp dark soft brown sugar, or to taste

  4 eggs

  Handful of chopped fresh coriander or flat-leaf parsley

  Melt the coconut oil in a lidded wok or frying pan over a medium heat, add the onion and sweat for 2 minutes. Add the chilli, pepper slices and garlic. Cook gently for 5 minutes until everything is nice and soft. Sprinkle in the spices and sea salt and add the tomatoes along with a quarter-tin of water to stop the mixture getting too thick. Add the sugar – I put in a teaspoon just to give it a little sweetness. Turn down the heat, cover and cook for about 15 minutes until all the flavours are mingled and dense. If it looks a bit too thick and dry add a little more water.

  Make four indentations in the sauce, crack an egg into each one and cook over a low heat. It will take about 10 minutes for them to whiten – you might need to tilt the pan a little to distribute the whites and get them to cook evenly. Keep an eye on the yolks and, depending on whether you prefer them runny or firm, take off the heat when they’re done to your liking. Scatter over your herb of choice and serve.

  Garlic mushrooms

  When I was a student in Bristol, my Saturday treat was to go to Daphne’s Café in Montpelier and have mushrooms on toast. Rich, flavoursome and luxurious, mushrooms benefit from long, slow cooking in butter, but you have to be patient. It’s well worth it!

  This dish also makes a great starter for an evening meal.

  SERVES 4

  8 large field or portobello mushrooms

  100g butter

  2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

  1 fresh chilli, thinly sliced, or a pinch of chilli flakes (optional)

  Large bunch flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped

  Sliced sourdough, toasted, or crusty bread, to serve

  Cut the mushrooms in half, then thinly slice each semi-circle. Melt the butter in a wok or frying pan over a medium heat, then add the garlic and chilli, if using. Soften the garlic slightly, making sure it doesn’t burn, then add the mushrooms and stir until thoroughly coated in the garlicky butter (add more butter, or a glug of olive oil, if the mixture seems a little dry). Turn down the heat and let the mushrooms melt into buttery blackness until they are super-soft – up to 30 minutes, but keep an eye on them. Finish with handfuls of the chopped parsley. Serve either on toasted sourdough, or with crusty bread to mop up the juices.

  Bacon and spinach frittata muffins

  These are basically portable bacon and eggs, and can be made in advance. You can change the filling to suit your own taste – snips of pepper, feta, mushrooms, sweetcorn, chunks of sausage or chorizo. They can be reheated in the oven or in the microwave but are perfectly nice cold. If eating hot from the oven, roast some cherry tomatoes to serve on the side.

  MAKES 6 LARGE MUFFINS

  200g cherry tomatoes on the vine, snipped into small bunches

  Olive oil

  200g lardons – smoked or unsmoked, whichever you prefer

  200g fresh baby leaf spinach

  6 large eggs

  Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

  100g grated Cheddar cheese

  Preheat the oven to 200°C/fan 180°C/gas mark 6.

  Pop the cherry tomatoes in a roasting tin, drizzle with olive oil and put in the oven to slow-roast, about 20 minutes.

  Meanwhile, fry the lardons until cooked through and getting crispy. Put the spinach in a colander and pour over a kettle of boiling water to wilt. Squeeze dry then roughly chop so it doesn’t clump. Whisk the eggs thoroughly in a mixing bowl then season.

  Grease a 6-hole muffin tin or pop a muffin case in each hole (these make the muffins more portable). Divide the spinach, lardons and cheese evenly between the muffin holes and pour over the egg. Put in the oven, alongside the tomatoes, for about 18 minutes – make sure they are cooked through but not dry.

  Serve with the clusters of roasted tomatoes if eating straight away, or set aside to cool before storing for later use.

  Guacamole and soft-boiled egg on rye sourdough

  I could eat guacamole at any time of the day or night. My youngest son has proclaimed it as the food he could live on for the rest of his life if he could only choose one thing. The only snag, of course, is the avocado conundrum – how to catch them when they are perfect? Nothing makes my heart sink faster than opening an avocado and seeing blackened flesh. And quite often the avocados sold as ‘ripe and ready’ are like bullets. As I eat so many, I have overcome this by making sure I buy a couple every time I go to the supermarket. I check them daily, then use them just as they are starting to give.

  Handy tip: to skin your tomato, score a cross into the skin, cover with boiling water and leave for 10 minutes. The skin will then peel off easily.

  SERVES 2

  2 large eggs

  1 large avocado

  1 large beef tomato, skinned and finely diced

  2 spring onions, thinly sliced

  Pinch of chilli flakes

  Zest and juice of 1 lime

  Sea salt

  4 slices rye sourdough, toasted

  1 radish, sliced super-thin

  A few chives, finely chopped

  Have a bowl of iced water ready. Bring a pan of water to the boil, then add the eggs. Boil for 6 minutes – don’t forget to set a timer as the timing is crucial if you want soft centres!

  While the eggs are boiling, mash the avocado. You might like your avocado chunky or you might prefer it baby-food smooth – it’s up to you. Add the tomato and spring onions, mixing thoroughly. Then add the chilli flakes, lime juice and zest and salt to taste.

  After the 6 minutes, remove the eggs from the boiling water, plunge them immediately into the iced water and leave fo
r 3 minutes. This will stop the cooking process and help you remove the shells.

  Pile the avocado onto the toasted rye bread. Peel the eggs carefully, cut in half with a very sharp knife and perch on top of the avocado, then serve with the radish slices and chives.

  Try adding some sriracha sauce if you have some – it goes well with this dish and adds an extra kick.

  Tropical overnight oats

  I first discovered overnight oats in the form of Bircher muesli when I was upgraded to business class (for the first and only time in my life!) on a flight. That version was drenched in double cream and almost stopped my heart on the spot, but there was something about the texture that I loved. This version is somewhat healthier and quite zingy. There’s something satisfying about overnight soaking – it makes me feel organised and efficient to wake up to a bowl of oats ready to be zhuzhed up. For the mango, I use the tubs of freshly prepared chunks readily available from supermarkets, as whole mango can be as tricky as avocado on the ripeness front and I’ve never quite mastered the art of cutting them up.

  SERVES 2

  150g porridge oats

  375ml semi-skimmed milk, or dairy-free milk of your choice

  1 lime

  1 × 280g tub fresh mango chunks, cut into small pieces

  Runny honey

  Dairy-free coconut yoghurt or Greek yoghurt