the cool stone and edged around the rock. The volume of life was turned up. I could hear every shuffle of my feet, every breath echoing around my head, every beat of my heart. I couldn’t see my feet; I just had to trust they were going in the right place.
It only took about ten seconds, but they were long ones.
When I came round, I was panting and she was smiling, with a raised eyebrow and half of her mouth curling, like she was amused.
The path – hidden from the other side of the rock – hugged the cliff, with sheer cliff on one side and a steep drop on the other. It was no more than two feet wide. A tricky climb down. But like with the bike and carrying the board, Jade made it look easy. I guessed she’d done it a hundred times before.
There was no beach when we reached the bottom, just a flat ledge of reef, rock pools and seaweed. Far out to sea, the wind was messing up the ocean, chasing white peaks across the bay. But here the water was still, dark glass. Somewhere between this secret cove and the open sea were two surfers, sat on their boards, still as statues.
“Tell anyone about this place and they’ll kill you,” said Jade, pointing at them and sounding like she wasn’t kidding. Surrounding herself with the towel, she started to change. She had a swimsuit on under her hoody. She must have changed into it when she was in the garage attic.
And there I was again. Staring. I don’t think I was dribbling, or had my mouth open or anything. But I might have been, the way she glared at me.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, and looked away. “There’s no waves.” It was flat calm, apart from a gentle lapping at the rock’s edge.
“Long wave period. Watch.”
After a couple of minutes, like a clockwork doll coming to life, one of the surfers flipped his board round and started paddling towards the shore. At first I couldn’t see why, but then, behind him, hard to see against the sea-glare, was a wall of water. It jacked up, rising out of the blue till it formed a feathering edge. The surfer angled his board, paddled a stroke or two, pushed up with his arms and swung his feet beneath him, landing on the board, and in one swoop was riding down and across the wave, gliding in a long line before weaving the board in a series of snake shapes. The wave broke perfectly, carrying the surfer one step ahead of the white mess behind him. Then the other surfer did the same thing on the wave behind. Their whoops echoed around the cliff.
And I got it. Even then, I got it.
It looked like freedom.
Jade appeared at my shoulder, in her wetsuit. “I’m gonna get some of that. Look after Tess,” she shouted. She ran to where the rock met the water’s edge and launched herself into the sea, landing on the board and paddling powerfully into the dark water.
As the sun sank in the sky, I sat down with the dog at my side and watched.
They made it look easy, carving up and down the faces of the waves, spinning their bodies and boards round like they were dancing on water.
So yeah, I got it. And this place was part of the buzz I was feeling, this secret cove and the girl and the surfing and the sun falling into the sea. They all added up to something good. Something not-London.
When another surfer arrived it felt wrong, like he’d invaded my own little bit of heaven. Which was crazy. I was the stranger there.
He was about my age, tall and big shouldered, with a lot of scruffy black hair, a scraggy would-be beard and big cow eyes. But there was something intense about those eyes. They were full alert, with a thousand-yard stare, like he was looking through me. He wasn’t smiling; his natural look was a sneer. He came over and stood closer to me than he needed to. He looked at Tess like he was puzzled. I think he recognised the dog.
“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
