“Your mate’s out there?” he said, pointing out to sea.
“No, I’m with this girl…” I said. He looked out to sea, frowning. “I don’t mean with…” I stumbled. “She just… brought me here.”
“Right. You a surfer?”
“No,” I said. He nodded, like I’d said the right answer, and left me alone.
*
Jade returned after an hour or more in the water. And I was thinking that was good, I needed to get back.
“Well, that was a score. Did you see me, Sam? Real fun waves,” she said, strutting up to me.
She’d been hard edged before; now she was grinning like an idiot and was super friendly, like she’d taken some happy drug.
“Tempted?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Look, I’d better be getting back.”
“Wait for me,” she said, pleading with her eyes.
That was okay. It was getting late in the afternoon. I’d need to get back and help Mum, but ten minutes more was no big deal. But then two of the surfers came back in, out of the water, and Jade went over to talk to them. I didn’t want to hurry her, but I knew it was late, that Mum would be getting wound up. After she’d chatted a bit, Jade came back over to change.
“Rag and Skip are gonna make a fire up top. Let’s stay.”
“I can’t.”
“Oh.”
I watched the guy still out there, and tried not to look too much at Jade changing, fumbling around with a towel and her clothes. The bits of flesh I saw were the colour of honey, or dark sand. Her body was muscly, but curvy too. I’d seen that when she was in her wetsuit. A body shaped by years in the water. The hook twisted.
The surfer – the one who had asked me who I was – was still out there, further than the others had sat, waiting for the last wave. He got it too, a real freak, bigger than all the other waves that day. Jade and the others stopped what they were doing and watched. This guy was good. All the other surfers had moved with the wave, letting it dictate what they did, but he was in charge of it, slicing deep arcs, pulling crazy turns, gouging huge chunks of water out of the wave and sending spray that caught the light in rainbow colours. Halfway along the wave, he pulled one turn too hard, just as the wave was crashing. It punched him into the water, chewing him up in a soup of white water and arms and legs.
“Is he all right?” I asked.
They all laughed. One of the surfers, a stocky guy with curly, long blond hair shouted out, “Cocky bastard!”
Jade was changed now. She came up to me, speaking in a low voice, drying her hair.
“They’re sooooo jealous. They can’t surf like that.” She was still grinning. “Come on. Meet the others, let G know you’re okay,” she said, throwing her wet towel at me.
“Who?”
“Him, the cocky bastard.” She pointed at the surfer getting out of the water. “I spoke to him out there. He’s not thrilled I brought you here.”
“Why did you?” I threw the towel back at her.
“Just cuz you were there, I suppose.” She shrugged.
“What about your dad? Won’t he miss you?”
“Nah. He won’t care. Anyway, Dad’s bike’s got lights on, mine hasn’t, so you have to wait and…” She paused, looking at me. “Where’s your dad, Sam, or is it just you, your mum and sister?”
A lot of people wouldn’t have asked. They would have thought it was nosey. Not Jade.
“Yeah. It is. Just us,” I said.
We’d come back to Cornwall to make peace with my dad’s mum, my grandma, who I hadn’t seen in over ten years. Not since Dad died. And now she was dying. Of cancer. But I didn’t want to explain all that. Not to Jade; not then.
So yeah, it was ‘just us’ in that small house. And right then I didn’t want to be there, unpacking boxes. And Jade was being nice. Really nice. And I thought, How many chances will I get to make friends?
We stayed.
BACK UP TOP, beyond the rock we’d climbed around, where we’d left the bikes, was the entrance to the old mine. Another ‘DANGER – KEEP OUT’ sign was stuck on a grille protecting the way in. But they’d cut through the grille then padlocked it back up. Inside they had their own little treasure store: surf kit, piles of driftwood, four-gallon plastic containers full of some brown liquid. Even rugs and a battered old guitar.
One of the gang, a short, wiry kid with sun-blond hair called Skip, made a fire and ran around getting rugs and cushions for us to sit on. Big G – the serious guy with the cow eyes – Jade and me sat where Skip put us. The last of the crew, Rag, brought out two of the demijohn containers. The others were all fit, looked strong, and dressed in jeans and hoodies. Rag was different. He had a gut bulging out from his filthy T-shirt. He wore tartan trousers and finished the look with a Russian fur hat. He looked stupid, but it seemed deliberate.
“My finest batch yet,” said Rag, pouring the beer into mugs. “Guests first.” He handed me one, and poured a little of his own drink on the ground. They all said, “Libations,” and held their mugs to the sky.
“What’s that you’re doing?” I said.
“Libations. An offering to the sea gods.” It was hard to tell if Rag was joking. No one laughed though. Maybe they were just a superstitious lot. I thought it was weird, but I didn’t say so. “Now, Sam, tell me. How is it?” said Rag, pointing at my mug of foaming brown liquid, a serious frown on his face.
I drank, and pulled a squirming face. “This is your best?” I said.
“It’s all right,” said Skip, “you just have to get through the first one. A bit like his songs.”
“Aaah, a request?” said Rag.
“No!” they all shouted. But he fetched the guitar from the mine anyway, and banged out a sketchy folk song while we sat around the fire. He could play and sing pretty well, but he spoilt it a bit when he lifted a leg on the final note and farted loudly.
“Sorry about that,” he said, grinning.
“Liar! You disgusting pig,” said Jade. She got up, and started beating him round the head, while the others fell about laughing.
The dog even barked at him.
We drank. Big G and Rag were smoking roll-ups too, so I didn’t even notice someone had produced a spliff, till it was under my nose. Jade was passing it straight past me to Big G, just assuming I didn’t smoke, and that pissed me off, so I grabbed it and took some. I got an itchy tickle in my throat that threatened to turn into spluttering, but I got rid of it with more of the foul beer. I passed it to Big G, who took a few long drags.
They talked about the day’s waves and their plans for autumn.
“Thank Christ summer’s over,” said Big G.
“I thought you surfers liked summer?” I said, trying not to cough. They shook their heads and smiled.
“Autumn’s where it’s at,” Skip explained, sitting bolt upright. “The water’s