by Bea Green
She noticed all the lads surreptitiously trying, but failing, not to stare at her.
She had no dignity left. The other four boys had all managed, by now, to stand up on their boards. She hadn’t managed to get her balance on the board once. Let alone allow a wave to carry her towards shore. Mick had done his best, holding her board for her so she could ‘pop up’ onto it, but she still couldn’t get her balance right.
Despondently, she’d decided by the end of her lesson that surfing was not for her. Her swimsuit had ridden up uncomfortably into the crack between her buttocks, her ribs were sore from banging on the board as she launched herself onto it and paddled out to the ocean. Astonishingly, her toes were also killing her. She hadn’t realised how much they’d be used as she tried to ‘pop up’ onto the board.
‘OK, guys, good work. That’s it for today. Remember to keep practising your surfboard position at home, so it becomes second nature. Well done, all of you,’ shouted Mick.
Elinor had laid her head on her arms and didn’t feel like moving. But it was the end of the lesson. The others were all making their way onto the beach, to dump their surfboards before heading for home.
She started to kick her legs in the water, manoeuvring herself towards the shoreline.
Tony Reece was making his way towards the water with his troop of young surfers. From a distance, they looked like little ducklings following their leader. The Dolphin Surf School was definitely running a conveyor belt of apprentices today.
By the time Elinor was wading tiredly through the surf at the shoreline, Tony Reece was encouraging his group into the water.
‘Hi Elinor. How did you get on?’
Elinor looked at him crossly.
‘Surely you must have heard me? I haven’t managed to keep my balance once during the lesson. The other little tikes who were in there with me have all managed to get on their boards. I’m afraid I don’t think this surfing malarkey is for me.’
‘Hold on, Elinor! You can’t give up that easily.’
‘Give up that easily? Are you having a laugh? I’m going to be black and blue with bruises tomorrow. I can’t even feel my toes any more, they’ve been wrenched that much. I’ll be lucky if I’m able to walk in the morning. Believe me, I’ve tried.’
She could see Tony was trying not to laugh. She was now feeling worn out but she could feel a bubble of hysteria forming in her too. She sternly repressed it. This was all Tony’s fault, after all. He was the one who’d challenged her to learn.
‘Look Elinor, there are exercises that you can do at home to improve your balance. All it takes is a little practice. If you can wait for half an hour, while I finish with this lot, I can show you.’
Elinor paused for a moment. She was unsure if she still wanted to be sucked into the crazy world of addicted surfers. She saw Tony looking anxiously at his group, waiting patiently for him in the shallows.
‘Oh, OK then. It’s probably going to take me half an hour to get myself out of this wetsuit, anyway. I’ll wait until you’re finished,’ she conceded.
‘Great. See you then,’ said Tony, already making his way out to join his class.
Elinor stretched back her shoulders and walked across to the surfing stand, dumping her surfboard next to the others.
‘Thanks, Mick.’
Mick looked up from his phone and smiled.
‘No worries. I look forward to seeing you next week.’
‘I don’t know about that, Mick. I mean, I couldn’t even get up on the board today.’
‘You’ll do it, Elinor, you really will. I mean it. It takes us oldies a bit longer to learn, but we all get there in the end. I tell you, once you’ve ridden your first wave you’ll be hooked,’ said Mick, with what Elinor was beginning to recognise was the look of a surfer fanatic.
‘OK. I’ll definitely think about coming back. Thanks anyway,’ said Elinor, not feeling strong enough to commit herself to any more surfing torture.
She walked quickly off to the changing cubicle. Taking off her wetsuit was such a painful procedure that she started to wonder if she’d done more than bruise her ribcage. She sat down for a moment to allow the pain to ebb.
It was a relief to feel the soft, dry layers of her clothing touch her body but her jeans felt tight and uncomfortable. She made a mental note to bring her joggers with her next time. If there was a next time...
Ten minutes later, she wandered out onto the beach to watch Tony as he taught his young students to balance on their surfboards. She wondered why he bothered doing this. After all, working as a GP he must make a tidy sum. What could possibly be the appeal in teaching people to balance correctly on a surfboard? She didn’t get it. Tony Reece was a mystery to her.
Before long, Tony’s surf lesson finished and Tony walked up to her, signing for her to follow him. She walked behind him as he made his way determinedly up the beach. He stopped for a moment by the surfing stand, to pick up a tennis ball, and then carried on walking.
Elinor, stoically ploughing through the sand in his wake, started to wonder where they were going. They walked on until they reached the edge of the road. Once they were on the road itself, Tony turned around to face her.
‘Right. There are two exercises you can work on to improve your balance. Stand, feet hip-width apart, and distribute your weight evenly between both legs. Like that. Now, shift your weight to the right and lift your left foot off the floor.’
Elinor tried to hold her left foot up, but within seconds she found she was tumbling forward. Tony quickly caught her arms and propped her upright again.
‘OK? Got the balance again?’
Elinor nodded, unable to speak as her leg wobbled with the strain of holding her upright.
‘OK. You hold that for thirty seconds and then you do the same with the other side. You keep repeating the exercise, every day, until you feel fairly confident.’
Elinor put her foot down again and breathed a sigh of relief.
‘That’s it? That’s what you do to get better balance?’
‘Well, I’m afraid that’s not all you’re supposed to do. The next stage for this exercise is that while you’re balancing on one leg, you throw a tennis ball up in the air and catch it. Like this,’ Tony said, demonstrating by balancing on one leg and tossing the tennis ball up and down.
‘You know, there’s no need to show off. I’ve already had my face rubbed into it,’ said Elinor with a sniff.
Tony grinned at her and stopped.
‘Finally, you need to build up your core strength for surfing. It’ll make a huge difference to your ability. That means wide press-ups, diamond press-ups, staggered press-ups, tricep press-ups and, of course, sit-ups.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me! What on earth are diamond press-ups?’
Without another word, Tony threw himself on the ground and demonstrated how to do a diamond press-up.
Elinor rolled her eyes up to the heavens. She looked humorously at Tony as he stood up again.
‘I’m going to have to write all this down. It’s clear you surfers have quite a repertoire of exercises to do. How on earth do you find time for it all?’
‘You just fit it into your daily schedule,’ said Tony, taking it all completely seriously. ‘If you send me a text, I can send you a return text later on, with a link that explains all those exercises.’
Elinor took her phone out of the bag and saved to her address book the mobile number Tony reeled off to her. Not so much because she had any serious intentions of following through with his advice, but because he was a good-looking man and she wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to take note of his contact details.
18
The next morning Elinor groaned as she moved. Every muscle was screaming in pain. She rolled herself off the bed so she wouldn’t have to use her stomach muscles. Her ribs were still killing her
. Suddenly she began to feel anxiety creep up on her. What if she’d actually managed to break her ribs?
As she sat on the edge of the bed, she started to shake with fear. Her mind started taking her places she didn’t want to go. She shut her eyes, and tried the relaxation breathing she’d been advised to do when she felt like this. But breathing deeply in and out only heightened the pain under the ribs and made her think about it more.
She reached out and grabbed her phone, an idea having occurred to her. She panned down the numbers and found Tony Reece’s. He was a doctor, wasn’t he? Without a moment’s hesitation, she dialled his number.
‘Hello?’
His voice was groggy, heavy with sleep.
Elinor suddenly realised it was five o’clock on a Sunday morning. Oops. She felt the urge to hang up the phone before she got herself into a whole load of trouble, but the worry about her ribs was gnawing away at her. Her anxiety won the battle.
‘Tony, I’m so sorry to disturb you this early. It’s Elinor.’
‘Elinor?’
‘Yes, me.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Not really... You see, I’m worried I might have broken my ribs.’
‘Sorry, repeat that again?’
‘I’m worried I might have broken my ribs!’ repeated Elinor an octave higher, starting to feel exasperated.
‘Why, have you fallen somewhere?’
‘No! It’s from surfing yesterday.’
‘Elinor,’ said Tony, a note of anger creeping into his voice. ‘There’s literally no chance you could have broken your ribs at Porthcothan Beach yesterday. There were barely any waves, and even if you’d landed hard on your surfboard the water would’ve cushioned you.’
‘But it really, really hurts...’
‘Yeah, well, it will do if you’re out of shape.’
‘I’m sorry? What did you just say?’ spluttered Elinor, feeling her hackles rise.
‘I’m saying, Elinor, you’re unfit. You struggled to stand on one leg for even a few seconds yesterday. You’re out of shape. If you’ve not been exercising properly for some time, your muscles will be sore after a surfing lesson. Now, can I go back to sleep, please?’
‘OK. Sorry. Bye.’
Elinor hung up quickly, feeling like a five-star idiot. Part of her wished she could prove Tony wrong, but she had a horrible feeling he was right. She was unfit and out of shape.
She sat up straighter.
That’s it, she thought, I’m going to prove them all wrong about me. I’m not unfit. I just need to try and do a few more stretches in the mornings. She looked down at her mobile and tapped on the link Tony had sent her, the one with all the different press-ups on it.
She sighed as she watched the video clip. And then she got on all fours to start practising, shutting her mind to her screaming muscles, which were pleading with her to stop.
Twenty minutes into her exercises, she heard a knock on the door.
‘Come in!’ she yelled.
Her door opened and Leo stuck his head in.
‘Elinor, are you OK?’
‘Yeah, why?’
‘I couldn’t figure out why you were yelling so much. I thought you might be having one of your nightmares.’
Elinor sat up.
‘No, Leo. I’m fine.’
She started to giggle.
‘I’m trying out these surfer exercises and I’m still in agony from yesterday’s lesson. It’s so bloody painful, you wouldn’t believe it.’
Leo burst out laughing.
‘From what I’ve heard coming from your room, I would. Good grief, Elinor, are you sure you’re not overdoing it?’
‘No. I’ve got to get fitter. All those boys managed to get up on their boards and I just couldn’t. And now Tony Reece is saying I’m out of shape and unfit.’
‘So what’s this, now? You’re trying to compete with some eleven-year-old boys to prove this surfer wrong?’
‘Exactly.’
Leo looked at her in amusement, shaking his head in mock disapproval.
‘Fancy a cup of tea?’ he asked after a moment.
‘That would be lovely, thanks. I won’t be too much longer. I’ve only got the tricep presses to do next...’
Leo left to go to the kitchen, and shortly afterwards Elinor heard the kettle boiling from a distance.
Five minutes later she hobbled gingerly down the corridor, making her way slowly towards the kitchen. She was walking like John Wayne, with her legs bowed and wide apart. The insides of her thighs were red raw, as a result of rubbing against the sandy fabric of the wetsuit she’d worn the day before.
Leo watched her as she walked into the kitchen and perched on a stool, wincing as she did so.
He shook his head.
‘Just look at the state of you, Elinor. I’m not sure this surfing is such a good idea. I’m supposed to send you back to Scotland in better shape than you arrived. Not looking as though you’ve been beaten up on a dark night. Your mother’s going to kill me.’
‘I’m going to get into good shape,’ insisted Elinor, lifting up her cup of tea and taking a grateful gulp.
‘You’re a stubborn girl, no doubt about it. You shouldn’t let those surfers wind you up. They’re not worth it.’
‘Oh, I know that. It’s just that I’m so sick and tired of being pitied. I had enough of that in Glasgow after Mark died. And I think those boys looking at me like I was a lost cause yesterday was just the last straw.’
Elinor looked across the kitchen table at Leo, pleading for his understanding. She wasn’t sure why, but Leo’s support in this was important to her.
‘It’s set something off in me,’ she continued, trying to explain. ‘And I don’t appreciate Tony and Mick treating me like a baby, either. I want to figure this out for myself. For once, I want to prove to myself I can do it.’
‘Well, as long as you’re doing it for yourself, that’s fine,’ said Leo, nodding placidly.
‘I woke Tony up at five this morning,’ added Elinor, looking sideways at Leo to gauge his reaction. She took a blasé mouthful of tea, trying to diminish the impact of her words.
Leo stared at her, as though she’d finally confirmed his worst fears. The look on his face clearly stated that he thought she’d gone completely mad.
‘Why would you do that?’
‘I felt really bad about it afterwards,’ admitted Elinor. ‘My ribs were killing me and I started to panic about them. You know how it is with me. And Tony’s a doctor, so I thought I’d give him a call and ask him if he thought I could’ve broken something. Only I didn’t realise until he answered that it was so early. Now I feel awful about it.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, it isn’t such a big deal, after all. Why would you feel bad about it?’
‘For waking him up so early, of course, and also for using him like that. I mean, that’s the reason doctors don’t give out their phone numbers, isn’t it? So they don’t get deranged patients calling them at all hours.’
Leo shrugged nonchalantly, laid-back as always.
‘Don’t start worrying about that kind of thing. After all, he was the one who gave you his phone number in the first place.’
Leo chuckled suddenly.
‘It’ll teach him not to hand out his number to strange women. They could be dangerous lunatics like you. A Fatal Attraction kind of thing...’
Elinor flung the tea towel at him.
19
‘Leo, did you find the tunnel you were looking for?’
Elinor was sitting by the window, reading her book, while Leo sat at his desk and worked through the paperwork piled up on it.
‘No, I didn’t. One cave at Pepper Cove came to an end within ten metres. The other, after what I’d say must’ve been fifteen metres or so. It was very disappointing.’
>
‘Don’t you think a rock fall could’ve blocked off this old tunnel?’
‘Possibly, but that’s unlikely. Even when there’s a rock fall, it’s rare for access to a cave to be completely blocked off,’ said Leo pensively. ‘And you’ve to remember the tunnel was built by Cornish miners. They knew how to build good tunnels; their lives depended on it. I’d be very surprised if the tunnel itself had collapsed.’
Leo looked thoroughly despondent.
‘I know there’s a tunnel near here, because my grandfather saw it,’ he reiterated. ‘I’ll just have to put my thinking cap on, again, and figure it out.’
Elinor sincerely hoped he’d lose interest. Searching for an underground tunnel, along this volatile coast, didn’t seem to her a very safe occupation. He seemed almost as obsessed with this tunnel as she was with surfing. Maybe it was a family trait, in their Cornish DNA, to be as persistent and unyielding as the surrounding cliffs. It was obvious neither of them liked the taste of defeat...
Leo leaned back on his desk chair and swivelled round to look at Elinor.
‘By the way, there’s a book fair on this afternoon at St Merryn Church, in aid of roof repairs. Would you like to go and have a browse?’
Elinor put her cheap thriller on the coffee table.
‘I’m not very discerning as far as books go, but yes, that would be a nice thing to do.’
She stretched out her sore arms and yawned, thinking she could do with a hot bath to ease the pain.
‘I love that old church. It reeks of so much history. I can almost feel the spiritual presence of the generations of Cornish men and women that have attended it over the centuries,’ she added enthusiastically.
‘Yes, it’s very old,’ said Leo prosaically. He wasn’t really interested in anything that didn’t have to do with the sea. Leo, at heart, was a fisherman through and through.
Later that afternoon, they wandered onto the grass outside the church where covered stalls were laid out. All were positioned between the tall tower of the church and the front entrance. Scattered at a distance were old gravestones, some of them tilted at an awkward angle.
