Page 1 of The Big Dip in Crumbleton
PROLOGUE
CRUMBLETON TIMES AND ECHO - 20TH JUNE
Urgent: Beds Needed for Big Dip Dippers!
Calling all Crumbleton residents with a spare room to share! Our friends at Crumbleton Sands Surf Club need our help. The annual Big Dip has attracted a record number of swimmers this year, and The Dolphin and Anchor is going to be bursting at the seams.
Brian Singer reports that an entire minibus of Chilly Dippers will be arriving from Seabury tomorrow with a few last-minute additions. If you have a spare bed, sofa, or even a reasonably comfortable patch of carpet available, please contact Mick Penrose at the Surf Club ASAP!
Post-Dip Costume Clean-Up: Volunteers Wanted
Following last year’s spectacular costume carnage (they’ still finding sequins in the sand!), the Surf Club are organising a beach clean-up the morning after the fancy dress swim. Mick would like to remind participants that cardboard sharks, paper mermaid tails, and foam sea monster appendages may look fabulous on land but tend to disintegrate at first contact with the waves.
As tradition dictates, there will be a prize for “Most Bizarre Beach Find” – last year’s winner was Dylan Jones with his discovery of half a glittery jellyfish costume that had somehow managed to catch three real crabs.
Refreshments provided by The Limpet Café.
Caroline Cook, Editor(Who will be attending the Big Dip Dance and reminds everyone that the first couple onto the dance floor gets a free bottle of bubbly!)
CHAPTER1
PETE
Pete Trant knew he was being ridiculous. Twenty-nine was far too old to be sulking about having to vacate his home for a couple of nights… but here he was, stomping around like a teenager who’d just been told they couldn’t borrow the car.
‘It’s just two nights, Pete,’ his mum had pointed out earlier that day, fixing him with the look she’d perfected when he was about seven. ‘Two nights! And it’s not even really your home, is it?’
He’d huffed and puffed… but she did have a point.
The shepherd’s hut nestled cosily between the dunes of Crumbleton Sandswasn’this, even if he’d commandeered it for the past year. It belonged to his parents, just like the gift shop and the café.
‘It’s just the principle, Mum,’ he’d argued, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the postcard rack. Several cards featuring Crumbleton Sands’ glorious stretch of golden beach had hit the floor with quiet slaps. His mother’s eyes had narrowed dangerously, and he’d quickly scrambled to pick them up. ‘Why didn’t you ask me first?’
‘Because you’d have said no,’ his dad had chimed in, not even looking up from the display of novelty seagull paperweights he was arranging. ‘And to be honest with you, we need the money.’
That had shut Pete up. No matter how hard he tried, his mum and dad wouldn’t accept a penny of rent from him. He did his best to make up for it by paying for groceries and filling their ancient car with petrol whenever he could, but it was surprisingly difficult to sneak such things past them!
David and Sally Trant had been the proud owners of the Limpet Café and Beachcomber Gifts in Crumbleton Sands since before Pete was even a glimmer in their eyes. They weren’t the most natural of business people… but somehow, they’d made it work for decades. They made up for their lack of savvy with unending enthusiasm and a toddler-like, wide-eyed approach to trying new things.
His dad had bought the shepherd’s hut several years ago as part of yet another “diversification plan”. There was supposed to be a whole row of them dotting the dunes by now. Sadly… inevitably… the plan had stalled. The huts were expensive, and the first experimental unit hadn’t proved as popular as his parents had hoped.
When it came to tourist accommodation, The Dolphin and Anchor over in Crumbleton offered stiff competition. Secretly, though, Pete had a feeling the real problem was the fact that his parents were allergic to advertising. Either way, the other huts had never materialised, and there hadn’t been a single guest who’d shown any interest inhishut all year.
This suited Pete just fine… not that he’d ever admit it to his parents! He might not be completely comfortable living there rent-free, but that’s exactly what he’d been doing since moving back from Australia almost a year ago.
He liked having the little wooden cabin all to himself, tucked away in the dunes. It was far enough from the carpark that he couldn’t hear the incessant bells and whistles of the amusement arcade at the far end, but close enough to the beach that he could roll out of bed and be in the sea within minutes.
Perfect.
Or it had been until his parents decided to throw him out for the weekend so that some swimmer from Seabury could use it.
‘There wasn’t anywhere left for the poor woman to stay, other than someone’s floor,’ his mum had said. ‘Besides, you know The Big Dip happens this time every year… you used to enjoy it, remember?!’
Pete let out a heavy sigh as he wedged the last of his few possessions into the back of his ancient VW camper.
It was true… there had been a time when he’d loved The Big Dip. It was an important event on Crumbleton’s annual calendar. Mad wild swimmers came from all over the country to splash around in the sea together. The fancy-dress swim was always a sight to behold!
Unfortunately, Pete’s long-standing love affair with the event had come to an abrupt and messy end four years ago. The love of his life – dressed as a great white shark – had chosen the occasion to dump him in front of practically everyone he knew. She’d promptly rubbed extra sea salt into the wound by snogging his ex-best friend at The Big Dip Dance that night.
