Wave Riders

by Lauren St. John

  ‘Did you and Gabe ever meet?’ he asked her now.

  ‘Never. Before your mother passed away, she and I worked out every detail of how her babies would be taken care of if the worst should happen. I often wonder if she had a premonition that she was not long for this world, because the day before you were born Joanna – Ana – told Gabe that your lives would be in danger if anyone from her previous life ever found you.

  ‘She also informed him that you had a secret godmother who’d ensure that you were provided for until you were at least eighteen and made him promise that, if anything ever happened to her, he’d take care of you as if you were his own. She told him my first name but nothing else. For everyone’s safety, it was agreed that the less he knew, the better.

  ‘In twelve years, Gabe and I spoke just once, on a payphone, soon after your mother died. He gave me his word that he’d go to the ends of the earth to protect you. I believed him. After that, we only ever communicated a couple of times a year, using a special email address created for that purpose alone. When we did correspond, it was usually to discuss money and update his exit strategy in case it ever became necessary for him to walk away from his life and job to keep you safe.

  ‘Meantime, I had my own spies at Blakeney Park and Daybreak Media: a cleaner and a mailroom worker. When I learned that a friend of the Blakeneys had seen a photo of a waitress bearing a striking resemblance to their ex-employee, Joanna Gray, at a Florida diner, and that Clifford seemed very agitated about it, I was sure that his notorious enforcer, Mr Riker, would leave no stone unturned checking out the lead.

  ‘I emailed Gabe asking him to put our escape plan into action. I sent him money. I was relieved when the plan seemed to be working – or at least it was until Mr Riker somehow traced your yacht to the Virgin Islands and confronted Gabe. Imagine my distress when Gabe, having sent me an emergency email about the encounter, went silent and didn’t return my own increasingly frantic messages.

  ‘The first I knew of the cruel hand fate had dealt you was when I read about it in the Daily Gazette. Before I could act, you were in the clutches of Clifford and Marina and on your way to Blakeney Park. From then on, I had to be incredibly careful. I needed to extricate you from a deadly situation, but I had to do it without endangering you further. Two and a half days ago, Bridget, my cleaner spy at Blakeney Park, discovered that you’d escaped by boat. The Water Rats were accused of helping you.

  ‘By chance, I knew a member of the Water Rats. Before I could call her, Sirius contacted me through my website and told me that you were sailing to Bluey’s Cove AT THAT VERY MOMENT. I was stunned and so deliriously happy that I hardly dared hope his message was real. I was also afraid. A storm was forecast, and I was terrified that the Blakeneys would somehow hunt you down in the Irish Sea and spirit you away before the coastguard or anyone else could reach you. I couldn’t sleep I was so anxious. Finally, Sirius sent me a link to a boat-tracking app. I stopped worrying when the app showed Firebird making steady progress despite the storm.’

  She smiled at them both. ‘Gabe would be so proud of his young sailors. He taught you well.’

  ‘It probably helped that the Blakeneys didn’t know what yacht we were on,’ said Jude. ‘They’d have sent Mr Riker after us on a powerboat.’

  ‘According to Bridget the maid, the Blakeneys waited almost twenty-four hours before they reported you missing,’ Amelia told him. ‘I have to admit, I let them sweat. This afternoon, when I was sure that you were almost here, almost home, I rang Marina Blakeney and informed her that I was your godmother, and that you’d be living with me from now on. I strongly advised her to tell her husband and Mr Riker to leave you well alone if they didn’t want me going to a rival newspaper with everything I knew.’

  Jude was impressed. ‘How did Marina react?’

  ‘There was a long, calculating silence, then she said tersely: “As you wish,” and hung up.’

  ‘What about Sam?’ asked Jess. ‘How did he find you before we did?’

  ‘That, too, was down to Bridget. She rang to say that the Blakeneys had sent him to a shelter the day after dispatching you to separate boarding schools. I called the shelter right away. After the usual medical tests and background checks, Sam was brought to Bluey’s Cove. He’s been with me, safe and loved, ever since. We’ve been waiting for you.’

  ‘It was you who sent me that postcard, wasn’t it?’ Jude said later that evening, as they sat around a worn oak table, eating homemade leek and potato soup with crusty bread and butter.

  Amelia smiled. ‘I had a sense you might be in need of some cheer. I think of those words often and I believe them with all my heart. We can’t go back and change the beginning. Nor would I want to. It’s the voyages we embark on and the storms that we endure that make us and shape us. But the three of us—’

  Sam, sprawled in front of the fire, twitched in his dreams, chasing seabirds.

  ‘Four of us,’ Jude reminded her, and they all laughed.

  ‘Four of us,’ agreed Amelia, ‘can start from where we are, and change the way our story ends.’

  ‘Can we request a happy ending?’ asked Jess.

  ‘Oh, I think a happy ending’s exactly what’s needed here. Don’t you?’

  EPILOGUE

  THE MORNING TRIBUNE

  The High Court at London’s Old Bailey today ruled that fifteen-year-old twins, Jess and Jude Gray, are the legal owners of Blakeney Park, Gloucestershire, denying the last appeal of media baron Clifford Blakeney and his wife, Marina.

  In a joint statement issued by their godmother, artist Amelia Starr, the twins said: ‘We’re grateful that the court has honoured the wishes of Robbie Blakeney and our parents, Jim and Joanna Gray. We intend to continue transforming Blakeney Park into a sanctuary for wildlife. Going forward, the estate will be managed by the National Trust, as it has been for the past three years. It will be held in trust for the nation for generations to come.

  ‘In addition, permanent mooring rights have been granted to five narrowboats on the River Severn, including one owned by our friend Sirius Emerson, who helped us when we needed it most.’

  The Grays sailed to England on their new Rustler yacht, Dolphin Dreams, bought with the insurance pay-out received after their previous boat, You Gotta Friend, was wrecked in a storm. The twins wanted to be at the Old Bailey for the verdict. They declined to press fraud charges against Clifford and Marina Blakeney.

  ‘That chapter of our life is closed,’ the twins said.

  Tomorrow, Jess and Jude Gray will sail home to Ireland, where they live beside the sea with their godmother, Amelia, their dog, Sam, and their horse, Autumn.

  The End

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Wave Riders was written during the COVID-19 lockdown of 2020, which was both a blessing and, well, a challenge.

  To be truthful, writing a novel during a pandemic was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But it was also a glorious escape. I love the ocean as much as I love telling stories. As the months passed and the UK lockdown stretched on and on, and separations became harder and more painful, and the global news ever more dire, Wave Riders became my sanctuary.

  As every writer and reader, young and old, knows, imagination lends you wings. In the real world, I was constrained by COVID rules and confined to four walls but, every single day, as I sat down to write with my Bengal cat, Max, beside me, I had the freedom to swim in turquoise lagoons and sail the wild waves with Jess and Jude.

  By sheer chance, I’d done the sailing part of the research for Wave Riders the previous year when it was originally going to be published.

  Before I became a children’s author, I wrote sports and music books and was a journalist for The Sunday Times. Almost the best part about my job was travelling the world, seeing extraordinary places and wildlife, and interviewing extraordinary people. When I started writing children’s novels, I saw no reason to research fiction differently.

  For Dolphin Song, for instance, I went all t
he way to the exquisite Bazaruto Archipelago in Mozambique. I swam in lagoons and climbed the crumbling steps of the eerie but curiously magical abandoned lighthouse that later became Martine and Ben’s fictional shelter in the second of my White Giraffe series.

  For The Glory, my YA novel about an endurance horse race across the American West, I drove 1,800 kilometres from Boulder, Colorado to Hood River, Oregon – in winter. When I wasn’t driving through blizzards, I rode through the snowy mountains of Wyoming on a palomino mustang called Kicker. He later became the inspiration for Scout in my book.

  When it came to researching Wave Riders, I was determined to learn to sail. There was only one problem. A big one. The few times I’d ever been on a boat on the ocean, I’d been seasick. Seasickness, as anyone who’s had it will tell you, is no joke.

  I started slowly, and nervously. I signed up for a Royal Yachting Association (RYA) First Aid course and proudly earned my certificate.

  The next bit was harder. To learn to sail – really sail – I needed to do an RYA Competent Crew course with Nomad Sailing. That meant five whole days on a yacht with five strangers. Once we left shore, there’d be no turning back.

  I went prepared. To ward off seasickness, I bought ginger biscuits, crystallised ginger and acupressure point ‘Sea Bands.’ Then I set out to find the gear.

  I learned very quickly that sailing in the UK at the tail-end of winter is bone-numbingly cold. I’d bought and/or packed thermal vests, leggings, sailing gloves, hats, Buffly neck warmers, fleeces, ‘technical’ offshore salopettes and deck boots.

  Sound a lot? Some days I was so freezing that I wore two gloves, two thermal hats, a thermal vest and leggings, a T-shirt, fleece, the special salopettes, and a borrowed sailing jacket, and I was still cold. I just didn’t have actual hypothermia.

  My berth beneath the deck was so low and snug that I had to slide into my sleeping bag from the door. But all of it – every waking minute of it – was an adventure. And I adore adventures. Most importantly, I experienced sailing and close-quarter yacht living in a way I’d never have understood if I’d studied a 1000 DVDs and books.

  Just like Jess, I lay in my sleeping bag and heard the whining of the wind, the clanking of the halyard and the slap-slap of waves against the hull. Through the salt-splattered hatch of the galley, the sky at night was panther-black.

  Thanks to my industrial supplies of ginger, I never felt unwell once during the week, not even on the second day when we woke to Force 6 winds that later reached Force 7. That’s near gale-force on the Beaufort Scale, the wind force scale used by sailors.

  It was an unforgettable experience. I learned, as the twins do, that sailing is hard, risky, physical work; that it takes courage and immense skill. It’s an unrivalled test of character. Decks are slippery. Waves are unpredictable. Conditions can change in a moment. Mistakes can cost lives.

  My absolute favourite part of the ‘Comp Crew’ course was our night sailing lesson in Force 6 winds - not a sentence I ever thought I’d write! Each of us took a turn at the helm. The memory of oil-black waves coming at the yacht from every angle, and the knife-sharp wind wolf-howling through the lines and sheets, will stay with me always.

  Throughout the surreal and icy hours, my crewmates Gabriella and John kept me laughing, and I did my best to repay them with frequent coffees. It wasn’t the sailing fairytale that I’d envisioned, but it was pure magic.

  All stories start, for me, with a feeling or an atmosphere. At the end of that night, as I crawled exhausted, but very happy, into my sleeping bag, I knew I’d found it.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  There were two types of writers during the 2020 pandemic lockdowns: those who found writing easy and those who found it hard. I freely admit that I fell into the second category.

  There’s not a chance that this book would have been finished without the support, patience and utter loveliness of my agent, Catherine Clarke, and my editor, Venetia Gosling at Gosling Editorial, two of the best people I’ve ever known.

  I’m indebted also to Lucy Pearse, Sam Smith, Belinda Rasmussen, Jo Hardacre, Cheyney Smith and Sarah Clarke at Macmillan Children’s Books. Thank you is inadequate but meant with all of my heart.

  Special thanks to Rachael Dean, who created Wave Riders’ show-stopping cover and interior illustrations, and to Eileen Gunn and the Royal Literary Society, who stepped in with support, advice and, crucially, kindness, when I needed it most.

  Wave Riders would not have happened without them. It’s that simple.

  For the technical, sailing parts of this book, I’m hugely grateful to my endlessly patient sailing instructor, Lou Barden of Nomad Sailing. Any mistakes in this book are mine alone. Thanks as well to Anne Tudor for putting me in touch with Arthur Hicks in the Virgin Islands, and to Arthur for sharing his extensive expertise in ocean sailing, instructing young people to sail, and local Virgin Island currents and weather systems.

  For the Horseshoe Reef storm scenes, I was also helped enormously by Phil Aspinall, Director of Operations at Virgin Island Search and Rescue (VISAR).

  Lockdown living has proved – if it were ever in doubt - that friends, family and nature are as vital to our happiness and wellbeing as oxygen.

  Thanks to Virginia McKenna, Jenny Seagrove and Ruth Wilson, whose grace, humour and immense kindness were points of light for me throughout the past year.

  I’m grateful every day to be part of the children’s book community, which is filled with wonderful, supportive booksellers, publishing folk and writers. Thanks especially to Abi Elphinstone, Katherine Rundell, Piers Torday, Hilary McKay, Gill Lewis and Maya Leonard for keeping me smiling and hopeful through the darkest of days.

  Lastly, thanks to my family, especially my niece, Alex, and godsons, Matis and Francis. This book, about the importance and specialness of family and home, is for you.

  With love,

  Lauren St John, Spring 2021

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lauren St John grew up on a farm and game reserve in Zimbabwe surrounded by horses, cats, dogs and a pet giraffe, the inspiration for her bestselling White Giraffe, One Dollar Horse and Kat Wolfe mystery series. A passionate conservationist, Lauren is a patron for the Born Free Foundation and Mane Chance Animal Sanctuary and the founder of Authors4Oceans. When not writing or saving leopards and dolphins, she is a full-time valet to her Bengal cat, Max.

  www.laurenstjohn.com

  A LETTER FROM THE FAMILY OF LUCIA, TO WHOM WAVE RIDERS IS DEDICATED

  Dear Reader,

  A few words about Lucia, who loved Lauren’s stories and to whom Wave Riders is kindly dedicated.

  She was the brightest, bubbliest, most fun and most loyal friend you could have. There when you needed someone, wise beyond her years, more than ready to party, dance all night and then finish it off with a dawn dip in a freezing sea. Lucia was packed with life but knew it couldn’t be taken for granted.

  When she was eight, she suddenly became extremely ill. A liver transplant was her only hope. Lucia was lucky, and deeply grateful for her medical team. Even more so for the organ donor whose liver was now keeping her alive, and whose family agreed to that selfless gift.

  Lucia needed a second transplant a year later and, when she was sixteen, a third. By then, the decision to accept another transplant was Lucia’s. It wasn’t easy. She spent lots of time at the beach, her place of energy and solace. One evening, watching the sun set over the waves, Lucia made her decision. ‘It was the moment I knew I could go through with it, and I wouldn’t look back.’

  Not knowing when, or if, a transplant would become possible, Lucia had two goals.

  The first was to make a difference. She knew her life had already been saved twice by people she didn’t know. She would use her story to help others think about organ donation, encouraging them to talk with family and friends and share their decisions.

  Lucia launched her campaign, Live Loudly Donate Proudly, writing amazing blogs full of energy, humour, fun and coura
ge. You’ll find plenty there about organ donation, and lots of encouragement to enjoy life, to find what matters most to you and how to make a difference yourself.

  Her second goal was to compete in the 2017 Transplant Games in Málaga, Spain. Lucia was introduced to Transplant Sport UK (TSUK) after her first transplant, to help her recover and stay fit.

  Each year, the UK Transplant Games bring together over 1000 competing transplant recipients and many more families, friends and donor families, in a festival of life and sport. It was always the highlight of Lucia’s year. She was a swimmer and competed in nine UK Games for her hospital team and three World Games (including Málaga) for her national team, fundraising for TSUK whenever she could.

  In the Games, Lucia found a unique circle of understanding friends; another family, with whom she could continue to laugh loudly, dance wildly and live fully, knowing everyone else knew how precarious and precious the gift of new life is, made possible by the kindness of strangers. ‘The feeling I get when I am racing alongside others who have been through similar experiences to me, is second to nothing I have ever experienced.’ Every medal she won was in honour of her donors.

  At the end of 2019, Lucia needed a rare fourth transplant. The transplant worked, but recovery slipped away. Lucia died in May 2020, just a few days before her 21st birthday.

  She left us her passion for life and for the Transplant Games. She left us her campaign, Live Loudly Donate Proudly, and her encouragement to open conversations about organ donation. Maybe one day we, or someone we love, may need that gift of life. Or perhaps we may give that gift to someone else, maybe someone like Lucia, who will go on to show us how precious life is and how to live it fully, gratefully, loudly and proudly . . .