Summer Loving

by Nicola Yeager

  A couple of people wave and high-five Kirstan as we walk down the beach. It’s eerie. This is what used to happen in Cornwall. In fact, I’m starting to get a weird sense of déjà vu. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. We used to walk on the beach exactly like this. It’s almost as if those eight years never happened. I start to feel upset again, so put those thoughts out of my head.

  It’s still only around three, so the beach is quite crowded, but we keep walking until we get to a clearer spot, with a quiet stretch of beach and fewer swimmers. It seems insane that I’ve been swimming in a chlorinated pool with this beautiful blue sea nearby. Kirstan turns to look at me.

  ‘This is really weird, isn’t it?’

  ‘A bit, yeah.’

  ‘You and me, after all this time.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘You know – I haven’t seen you for years and years and now I’m giving you a surfing lesson in bloody Portugal, of all places.’

  ‘Yeah. It’s weird. It feels weird talking to you.’

  ‘Yeah. Feels weird talking to you, too. How are you, anyway?’

  ‘Fine. You?’

  ‘Yeah. Fine.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘How’s Lucille?’

  ‘Fine. Still doing the photographs. She has her stuff in galleries now.’

  ‘She got a bloke?’

  ‘Paul. Nice guy. A florist.’

  ‘Good. She was a nice, nice-looking girl. I’d have been upset if she was with some wanker. So many girls I’ve known who were lovely when they were young end up with total fuckheads.’

  I’ve got a cold feeling in my stomach. I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what he’ll ask me and what I’ll have to tell him. I’m afraid of what he’ll think. It’s ridiculous, I know, but it’s as if I’ve been unfaithful to him with Franklin and I don’t want him to find out. I don’t want him to get suspicious. I must be mad. I wonder if there’s anything I can Google about situations like this? Probably not. I’ll have to handle it the old-fashioned way.

  He removes the fin from the back of the surfboard and places the board flat on the sand. He places his hands on his hips, looks at the board and looks at me. Despite his amusing comments about my boob job, he keeps looking at me and I think he likes it. I think he likes my blonde hair, too, or at least he’s intrigued by the difference it makes. I like him looking at me like that, I decide.

  ‘OK. Right. Let’s crack on then, shall we? There’s a load of health and safety bollocks I’m meant to tell you, but I’m sure you know what’s what by now. Don’t worry about standing up in the water today. We’ll just see if we can get you as far as lying on the board and riding it in that way.’

  ‘Sure. OK.’

  It feels warm and sticky inside the wetsuit and I can’t wait to get in the water.

  ‘Now, you’ve seen me do this loads of times, if your memory stretches back that far. We’ll do it on the sand, so to speak, and then we’ll go in the water once you’ve got it all in your head. We won’t be going in deep; just so the water’s up to your waist.’

  ‘It’s hot, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, I know. It’s the summer. So are you here with a boyfriend or husband? Or one of each?’

  Oh, shit. Here we go.

  ‘Boyfriend.’

  ‘Right. You must be doing pretty well for yourself. This has to be the most expensive hotel in the region.’

  ‘I know. It’s lovely. Great food. Lots of facilities.’

  ‘Well, yeah. Right. First of all, you’ve got to lie flat on the board. When you’re in the water, just drag yourself up it, or get onto it from the side. Doesn’t matter how you do it, you’ve just got to end up lying on it. Have a go and I’ll adjust your position.’

  I lie down on the board. I feel silly.

  ‘It this OK?’

  ‘You’re a bit too far up towards the front. Go down about a foot. That’s it. Not too uncomfortable for you is it? Lying on your chest like that?’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘I’m the wittiest guy on the beach.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have guessed it unless you told me.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  I adjust my position as instructed. I keep making eye contact with him all the time. That’s got to stop. I can feel my heart beating. I can imagine Lucille standing a few feet away, watching intently and laughing to herself.

  ‘OK. When you’re in the water, you have to keep looking behind you. When you see a likely wave swelling up, you get on the board, just like you are now. Then you have to paddle. You have to paddle so the board is going at the same speed as the wave. Then you’ll feel it carry you along. Do the paddling action so I can take a look at it.’

  I feel even sillier. I paddle away and my hands keep hitting the sand. It feels really uncomfortable.

  ‘So what does your boyfriend do?’

  ‘He’s in the oil exploration business.’

  ‘Sounds exciting! When you’re paddling, lift your head up and look straight ahead. When you feel the wave taking the board, slide your hands back and grip the sides. Elbows out sideways. You’re getting ready to push yourself up now.’

  This is difficult as the board is flat on the sand, but I manage to grip the sides to Kirsten’s satisfaction.

  ‘That’s it! That’s good! Now hands flat on the board and raise your upper body. Like you’re starting to do a push-up. I bet that feels more comfortable, eh?’

  He laughs at his own gag. I can’t get upset. I know he’s just trying to make me feel at ease with him. I push myself up. My shoulders hurt with the effort.

  ‘What about you? Girlfriend? Wife? Concubine? Lady boy?’

  ‘Wife? Me? Ha! Got a lady boy, though. It’s the done thing out here. Still pre-op, ‘cause that’s the way I like it.’

  ‘I thought as much.’

  ‘Now you get into the crouching position. Get whichever knee you favour right under your chin. Try and feel comfortable, like it’s a well-balanced stance.’

  I get my right knee under my chin. My back aches. I wobble slightly. God, this is difficult and I’m not even in the bloody water yet. Kirstan watches me and frowns slightly.

  ‘Does that feel natural? Your right knee forward like that? Right foot forward on the board?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘No probs. Most people put their left one forward. If doing the right feels more natural, you may be a Goofy foot.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘Goofy foot. That’s what they call people who lead with their right foot.’

  ‘Why is it called that?’

  ‘Well, there is a story behind that, but I don’t know if it’s true. I’ll tell you later. Right. So you’re feeling well-balanced, now you stand. You keep looking straight ahead, not at your feet, and stick your arms out like you would if you were on a tightrope. This, hopefully, will help you keep your balance. That’s it. You’re surfing. Except you’re on the sand and the board isn’t moving.’

  Some kids walk by and look at me. They start laughing when I start to wobble and almost fall off. We go through all those stages another six or seven times until Kirstan decides that I’ve got them in my head. I’m perspiring inside my wetsuit now and feeling very uncomfortable.

  ‘So how long have you and your boyfriend been together? I don’t think you told me his name.’

  ‘It’s Franklin. About two years.’

  ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘What’s that meant to mean?’

  Stupid. Stupid response. Keep it together.

  ‘Janica’s a very attractive girl. Are you and she…’

  ‘Ha! No. Janica’s not into guys. Beautiful, isn’t she? She’s really funny and a great surfer. We go out on the west coast from time to time. Great Atlantic rollers. Really scary at times, but it’s a real blast out there. I almost got killed, actually, about, um, three weeks ago now. It was really exciting.’

  ‘God almighty. You’ve not changed much, have you?’

  He smiles, but
I can tell it’s a fake smile. ‘Right. You’ve got the sequence in your mind. The only problem is, is that when you’re in the water, you’ve got to do all of that in one fast, fluid movement; get on the board, paddle, paddle, paddle, push up, crouch, stand, surf. But don’t worry, we’ll take it step by step. Come on. Let’s go in the sea.’

  He fixes the fin back on the board and we walk into the shallows. It’s so gloriously hot that I wish I could just run in in my swimsuit. The water feels cool on my feet. It’s only when we’re about fifteen feet out and the water is waist high that that awful sensation of the wetsuit filling up with water kicks in.

  ‘Ugh!’

  ‘Yeah. It’s a nice feeling, isn’t it. All that water creeping up your legs. Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon. Right. Let’s wait for a suitable wave and see if you can ride it into the beach. Just hold the board steady and get ready. No pressure to stand up. Just ride it in lying down if you can.’

  We stand in the water and wait. He smiles at me and I smile back. It’s almost like a dream. It’s like something that could have happened eight years ago, but much warmer and sunnier. I hold onto the board. It’s difficult. The water is making it bob up and down.

  ‘You look good, baby.’

  Is that the hint of a choke I heard in his voice just then? I can feel tears in my eyes again. I must be becoming emotionally incontinent.

  ‘Kirstan…’

  ‘OK! Here it comes! Get ready! Get on the board – paddle, paddle, paddle!’

  I turn around and see what looks to me like a colossal wave heading towards me at some considerable speed. I drag myself onto the board, which Kirstan is holding steady and, looking straight ahead as ordered, paddle frantically. The board rocks from side to side and suddenly I feel the wave lift it up. This is it! I’m going to take this all the way into the beach!

  Of course, that’s not what happens. As soon as the wave makes contact, it tips me and the board sideways into the water. I get a few litres of seawater up my nose and in my mouth. I start choking. A terrible feeling of panic starts to overcome me. I pat the sand with my hands to work out which way up I am, then attempt to stand up. Just as I’m doing that, a second wave comes crashing into me. This one somehow brings my surfboard with it and it narrowly misses my head.

  Kirstan grabs my shoulders and puts himself between me and the third wave, as it threatens to push me back into the water. He’s laughing.

  ‘What’s so bloody funny?’

  ‘Nothing at all! That was a good go. You were, er, on the board there for a good couple of seconds. It was the wave. It came in at an angle. Took your balance.’

  ‘But you told me to take it!’

  ‘I thought you might be able to catch it. No matter. We’ll wait for another one.’

  Which we do. We catch another and another and another and another. Each one of them throws me off the board and into the water. Sometimes I don’t even get on the board in the first place. Well, at least the water isn’t freezing. I’d never be able to take this if we were in Cornwall. Kirstan doesn’t get irritated or lose his cool with me, though. I can see how he’d be quite good at this.

  ‘Come on, now. Don’t worry about going in the water. It’s nothing. As long as I’m here with you, nothing will happen to you. We’ve only been out here for about fifteen minutes. We’ll let these ankle snappers go by; they won’t be much use. I’ll get you a good one. Just be patient.

  As long as I’m here with you, nothing will happen to you.

  Oh god. That’s what he used to say when he was trying to persuade me to learn surfing all those years ago. I really must stop this. This is unhealthy.

  ‘Here! Here we go! Get up on the board. Look behind you. See it? It’s about five seconds away. Now paddle! Fast!’

  My arms, which are aching by now, paddle as hard as they can. I try to keep the board from wobbling and try to keep it pointing in the direction of the beach. I must keep looking at the bloody beach. My back hurts. I can feel the surge of the wave behind me and suddenly, it’s like I’m flying. It seems like I’m travelling unbelievably fast and the rush is incredible. Water sprays over my face. The beach, which seemed pretty far away a few seconds ago, is now looming up to meet me. I’ve done it! I’ve bloody done it!

  Kirstan runs up to me as the sea recedes and leaves me and the board on the sand.

  ‘Great! Well done!’

  ‘Woo! That felt great!’

  ‘That’s just the start.’

  He takes my hand and helps me to a standing position. I stand facing him, grinning like an idiot. It’s all I can do to stop myself putting my arms around his neck. This is so, so confusing. It’s like the present and the past are all getting mixed up in my head. I have to keep reminding myself where I am, who I am, and when this is.

  I probably try my luck with about thirty more waves before we finish the lesson. I’m feeling exhausted and I’ve no idea how long we’d been in the sea. According to Kirstan, I managed to ride about twelve or thirteen of those into the beach. Lying down, of course. I still can’t stand up. On the three occasions I attempted to stand, I ended up drinking most of the wave, not riding it.

  When we’re finished, he helps me off with my wetsuit. I have to say, it was a bit peculiar when he pulled the zip down my back! He rinses both our wetsuits under a beachside shower and we head towards one of the bars. The amount of salt water I’ve had in my mouth over the past hour or so has made me feel even thirstier than I was before.

  On our way along the beach, I spot five small cabin-looking things as we approach the hotel. They’re about a dozen feet apart and each one has a different coloured, single door. They have straw roofs, as if whoever made them tried to get a Caribbean theme going. They look like extra-large changing huts that you see in Britain. Kirstan points at them.

  ‘Yellow door is Janica, Orange door is me.’

  ‘Wow! That’s where you live? They look really cool.’

  ‘Yeah. It’s fantastic hearing the waves before you go to sleep and when you wake up in the morning. They’re not palaces, y’know, but who needs a palace?’

  ‘Your door is the same shade of orange as that surfboard you used to have.’

  ‘Fancy you remembering that!’

  I remember every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of that entire year.

  ‘It was a pretty distinctive colour.’

  ‘Wow. Yeah. That one bought it. I lent it to Cliff. Remember him? Really thin guy. Anyway, he was out on it and the leash snapped. It hit some rocks. Hole in it the size of my fist. Big crack down the centre. Couldn’t be fixed. I was really choked. I’d had it since I was fifteen. We buried it in the woods.’

  ‘You buried a surfboard?’

  ‘Yeah! It was the least I could have done.’

  It’s so hot, I can see steam coming off my swimming costume. The guy behind the bar waves at Kirstan and grins, widening his eyes. I guess he thinks Kirstan is on the pull with one of the rich clients.

  ‘I could murder a coffee.’

  ‘Oh, they do great ones here. Really strong.’

  ‘I haven’t got any money on me.’

  ‘It’s OK. It’ll be free. I’m staff.’

  We fetch two coffees from the bar, sit down at a rickety table and look at each other.

  Seven

  Kirstan has been giving surf lessons here for around nine months. Janica has been here for just under two years. They both live, rent-free, in chalets owned by the hotel that overlook the beach and the sea. I can’t imagine how much Kirstan must love this. He gets up, has a coffee and a croissant, then surfs to his heart’s content before the lessons start, which is daily at 9.30. Last lesson of the day is 4.30 in the afternoon. He and Janica get Sundays off and there are no lessons after midday on Saturdays. Sounds like one of those jobs that people fantasise about.

  ‘Who was the other guy I saw down in your reception in the wetsuit? Is he a surf instructor too?’

  ‘Red hair?
’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s Antoine. He’s the windsurfing guy. He’s fun. Drinks like a fish. Hates all the tourists. French.’

  ‘Have you tried windsurfing?’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding!’

  I’d forgotten Kirstan’s total contempt for all sports that weren’t surfing. Not that surfing actually is a sport, you understand.

  ‘So what have you been doing since…’

  ‘Since?’ He fakes an innocent expression.

  ‘Since you worked in the surf shop.’ He’s trying to wind me up. It’s not going to work.

  ‘Well, I was there for another year or thereabouts. Maybe less. Didn’t do much. Then Larry – d’you remember him? – he asked me if I’d like to go with him to The South of France for a couple of months. There were a lot of new sponsored surf contests going on at the time and he reckoned him and me could clean up over there as he reckoned the competition was particularly weedy that year.’

  ‘I thought you never did competitions. I thought you said that…’

  ‘Well it was a bit against my philosophy, but I wanted a bit of a change.’ His expression suddenly darkens. He swallows and recovers. ‘So we went over there and it took us two or three small contests to get the measure of the other guys and then we started winning. This was Larry, by the way. Not to be confused with Laurie, the one with the stammer.’

  ‘So what did you do? Did you get money prizes?’

  ‘No. They just paid us in t-shirts, stickers and key rings and stuff. Of course it was bloody money prizes! God! Anyway, we stuck at that for about three months until the threats started so we got out while the going was good. Larry went off with some girl he’d picked up somewhere to South Africa and I stayed in France for another year and started to give surf lessons at small schools around Seignosse, Hossegor and all that area. Had a blast there, alright. God almighty!’

  ‘And then you came here.’

  ‘Oh, no, no. I went to Ireland after that. Underrated surf there, I can tell you. I lived off the prize money and did some more surf lessons. Stayed there for two years or something like that.’