by Paul Markham
The two couples, until recently relative strangers to each other, had spent a very enjoyable, energetic and refreshing weekend together under the vast cloudless skies and endless landscapes of Northumberland. They were now heading back South to re-engage with their various pursuits with renewed enthusiasm and with considerably enhanced knowledge of each other.
It had been mid-September. John and Julie, both feeling the effects of a very exhausting day in their respective workplaces, were chatting about their forthcoming venture with their new friends. They had met Mike and Helen through an online community made up of individuals of all descriptions who shared enjoyment of a somewhat individual form of social practice. Their meetings with Mike and Helen had gone even better than they had expected, to the point where all four of them had felt that it would be great to get away for a long weekend together and to enjoy another shared interest - fell-walking. Given their intimate knowledge of Northumberland, where Julie had spent many a summer holiday with her family during childhood and adolescence, she and John had highly recommended a beautiful remote location not all that far from Alnwick, where an isolated building had been converted very tastefully into an extremely comfortable and well-equipped pied-à-terre for fell-walkers.
They had decided that they would all travel North in John's off-road vehicle. A scan of the long-range weather forecast for Northumberland had suggested that there was likely to be an Indian summer at the end of the first week in October, so they had booked a four-night stay at Hepburn Bothy, where they knew that their new friends would have the best chance of feeling relaxed and comfortable and where they would be able to see which way their new-found friendship would take them all.
As Julie outlined her thoughts on who should have which rooms, and as John exercised his mind in anticipating the logistical demands of the trip, their thoughts were only partially focussed on the 10 o'clock news. But they did see enough for John to comment, with no hint of cynicism, in response to a news item featuring hurricane Amethyst, that was expected to knock seven bells out of the Gulf of Mexico and the southern coast of the USA - that he could not understand why people would want to go to the Caribbean in the hurricane season. He went on to add that we should be thankful that we are spared such climatic excesses in the UK. Julie, who was close to succumbing to the allure of waiting Morpheus' arms, nodded in half-hearted concurrence with her partner's comment.
The plan had been to get away mid-morning on the Thursday and to be clear of the Newcastle-upon-Tyne western bypass before the evening rush-hour started. The plan had gone well and there had even been talk of an early arrival at the Bothy until they became victims of a combination of impatience and bad temper, commonly referred to as road rage that had led ten minutes earlier to the complete closure of the northbound A1 at the Ripon/Thirsk exit. This had meant that the travellers had ended up following a hastily devised diversion that brought them back onto the Great North Road at Leeming Bar. By the time they passed The Angel of the North, traffic in all northbound lanes was already moving at a slow crawl, as a combination of tired homeward-bound Geordies and informed consumers descending upon the Metrocentre created a traffic jam that stretched almost all the way to Morpeth, where, inexplicably, the road suddenly became clear again. This gave John the opportunity to put his trusty vehicle through its paces with little in the way of obstacles until they left the A1 and headed into Alnwick to refuel and to make any last minute purchases that they had remembered during the journey.
By the time they turned off the B6346 on the final leg of their journey, it was already dark, but Julie's and John's detailed knowledge of the area meant that no time was lost in negotiating the final few miles up the long single-track road leading to Hepburn Bothy. Despite having been shown many photographs of the area and, in particular, of the Bothy itself, Helen was feeling somewhat apprehensive and Mike was quick to pick up on her diminishing confidence. He squeezed her hand in reassuring comfort as the Bothy finally came into view in the headlights and the car pulled up between the main building and an outhouse. Helen's confidence was lifted to some extent by the fact that the arrival of the vehicle triggered the security lights, which lit the front of the house and the area where they had parked very effectively.
Julie headed straight for the house and invited Helen to go with her. It was only a matter of moments before the two women were in the vestibule and the inside and outside lights were switched on. Helen's confidence was further boosted as she took stock of the very comfortable furnishings in the house and of the warmth that greeted them as they arrived, for the faithful Mrs MacIver had, as promised, been in to check that the oil-fired central heating system was switched on and to place fresh milk in the fridge. As Julie showed Helen to her and Mike's room, the men started to bring in the luggage and the food supplies. In fact, it was not long before they were all seated round the heavy oak dining table, enjoying a very welcome casserole that Helen had prepared and that had not suffered in any way from the journey. Neither, for that matter, had the bottles of Rioja that washed a very enjoyable meal down. Gradually, Helen's apprehensions faded into the background - but they did not disappear completely.
The late news on BBC2 had been unremarkable, but there was considerable coverage of clean-up operations in the tri-state area on the eastern seaboard of the USA, where, contrary to predictions, Amethyst - enjoying inexplicably renewed vigour - had knocked far more than seven bells out of anything that had stood in her destructive path at the end of the previous week.
In contrast to the meteorological chaos wrought by Amethyst, the prospects for the British Isles looked good into Friday and Saturday, with prolonged periods of sunshine and above-average temperatures for the time of year. However, the weatherman did sound a note of caution, explaining that the tail end of Amethyst had caused a virtual lock-down in southern Greenland and Iceland - but this information went over the heads of the four weary travellers, who decided that their 'get-to-know-you' weekend could start properly after breakfast on the Friday morning. So the two couples headed in their respective directions and it was only a matter of minutes before total silence, apart from the occasional call from the local owl outside and gentle snoring within, enveloped the Bothy.
Friday was one of those days on which the real beauty of the Cheviots can be witnessed in its full autumnal glory. In addition to walking several miles over rough terrain, all four friends had also made extensive use of their digital cameras. Walking home after a very enjoyable lunch at Chatton had proved something of a challenge, but they eventually returned to the Bothy at dusk and nobody had the energy to do anything other than enjoy a hot shower, a good supper and a short conversation over glasses of brandy before heading for bed.
Saturday saw the friends in a very different setting, as they walked under yet another beautiful sky, in warm sunlight, from Seahouses to Bamburgh and on to Waren Mill, enjoying the virtual emptiness of the enormous beach and looking out towards the Farne Islands, where the state of a very tame North Sea was a far cry - at least for the present - from the vicious weather that had led Grace Darling to achieve her status as a true heroine. John was no slacker where detailed planning was concerned and thus it was that the four well-travelled walkers, revitalised by a taste of delicious sea food at Bamburgh en route, arrived at Waren Mill just a few minutes before the X18 bus arrived, Newcastle-bound, to take them back to their waiting car at Seahouses.
Plans for Sunday had deliberately been left fluid and nobody regretted the decision - upon which all agreed on the Saturday evening - to have a day at the Bothy. Such was their state of weariness after dinner on the Saturday that the full impact of the weather forecast did not sink in, but John was sufficiently alert to do a tour of the building to make sure that everything was secure. The branches in the trees at the back of the Bothy were exhibiting somewhat livelier movement than had been the case when the group returned from Seahouses and there was not a creature to be seen, on the ground or in the air. He and Julie had seen days end like this in the past and a sense of slight unease began to develop, but this was counteracted to some extent by thoughts of the time that they were all planning to spend together the following day.
Both of them were beginning to be more aware of feelings of the type that had led to their initial online encounter with Helen and Mike, both of whom, whilst less aware of the significance of the changes outside, were also thinking more deeply about the following day - Mike with growing eagerness as he contemplated Julie, whom he had been observing discreetly during their rambles, and Helen with a little more caution, but also aware that she had not been unaffected by the very positively dominant attributes and physical attractiveness of John. What surprised her was how she had found herself looking at Julie in a way that was not entirely different from that in which her partner had been looking at that same woman, not that he - or she - was aware of this - yet!
As the early evening weatherman gave news of the unpredicted change of track detected in the movement of the vestigial Amethyst storm, which had led to complete isolation of the Faeroe Islands and to warnings of winds reaching storm force 10 over the eastern coast of the British Isles, down as far as the Tyne, the friends were beginning to address the secondary purpose of their visit to Northumbria in greater detail. They were all fast asleep when the unheard monotone crystal clear voice of the announcer who read out the Shipping Forecast gave the ominous news of storm force 10 winds, increasing to violent storm, force 11, in sea areas Fair Isle, Cromarty, Forth and Tyne.
Noises outside the Bothy confirmed the rapidly-deteriorating situation, but the thickness of the walls - designed for the worst that the Cheviot weather can throw at inhabitants - combined with the effectiveness of the double-glazing meant that all four occupants sank ever deeper into sleep as the rain began to pelt the windows horizontally.
A very small piece of sealant running along the top of one of the fascia boards on the outbuilding had worked loose - not a great problem under normal conditions, but when lying in the path of a storm of the ferocity of Amethyst's malign offspring, such a defect becomes the breach in defences that allows such forces to do their worst. Sure enough, the up-draught from the howling wind as it hit the side of the outhouse was sufficient to create access for the rain and the wind beneath the eaves and within a matter of minutes, one of the tiles began to lift under a force sufficient to lift a small aircraft into the air.
It was not the sound of the storm that awoke John, who had been sleeping lightly since around 2 a.m., when he heard the increasing severity of the storm outside, but the sound made by three heavy slates as they struck metalwork and then moved on to collide with the side of the Bothy.
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