by Chris Vick
“Are you… okay, Grandma?” I said.
“Never better, Sam. Come in, the kettle is on. There’s scones too.” She wiped the tears away and led us through a hall to a large lounge on the other side of the house. There were huge leather sofas and chairs, and dark red rugs covering the wooden floor. The walls were white, with bookshelves, a mirror and paintings of the sea.
But what I noticed most was the view. The house was so near the cliff, when you looked out the window you didn’t even see rock, or land, just this great big blanket of blue and green.
We sat down, while she went out to get the tea. We didn’t talk, we just sat there, taking it all in.
Grandma came back with a tray loaded up with scones and cream, jam and tea. Before she organised it all, she set Tegan up in the biggest chair, by the fireplace, with a set of crayons and a pad pulled out of a WHSmith’s bag.
She glanced at Tegan, to make sure she was distracted, then said to me, “I hope you like the house,” and gave me this weird loaded look. Then I twigged. She meant, the house I’m giving you; the house you’ll live in when I’m dead. She was going to die. We were getting the house. Some people dodge around the awkward stuff, the big stuff. Others just get to it. She was one of those. I didn’t know what to say to that.
“We’ll sort all that out,” she said, seeing the look of confusion on my face. “There is so much to plan. But first, tell me all about the move, your new cottage. What you have been up to…”
She talked on and I answered as best as I could. It was nice, but I thought it was weird how everything she said was to me, not Mum. All the time she was staring at me, real keen, and I couldn’t help but stare back. Apart from the headscarf, which I guessed was to cover her bald head from the chemo, she didn’t look ill. Not even that old.
“So, Sam. You’ll make friends here. At your new school. It’s hard to go from one place to another, where you’re a stranger. But you’ve done it before; I’m sure you’ll cope.”
She didn’t look at Mum when she said that, but the way she said it… it sounded like a dig.
“He’s met a girl,” said Tegan, scribbling away with the crayons.
“Excellent,” said Grandma. “Is she a looker?”
“Um, yeah, I guess so,” I said, “but we’re just mates. Not even that. I only just met her.”
“Are you going to ask her on a date?”
“I don’t think she goes on… dates. She’s a surfer.”
“Wonderful. A girl and a healthy activity.”
I thought maybe if Grandma had seen us round the campfire, she might not think it was such a great choice of ‘healthy activity’.
“Er, yeah,” I said, feeling awkward.
We changed the subject. All the time we talked, Grandma stared at me. A lot.
“You’re the spit of him at your age; it’s uncanny. It’s like the ghost of his teenage self came round for tea and scones.”
“Thanks,” I said, and spluttered some cream out of my mouth. I couldn’t help laughing. Grandma laughed too. Mum didn’t.
“Do you remember him much? Do you remember this house?” Grandma asked. I dug into my mind, tried to remember stuff, looking for something. Anything. I felt bad not giving her what she wanted.
“I helped him paint a boat once, like a sailing or maybe a row boat. I remember this dark blue paint and getting it all over my T-shirt. And he used to take me in the sea, paddling. He’d lift me up when a wave came, and say, ‘It’s only water, Sam,’ and…” But there was no “and…”. That was pretty much the total of my memories of my drowned, dead father. It didn’t upset me going through those memories. It didn’t make me happy either. I was kind of removed from them, like they were someone else’s memories.
It was different for Mum though. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes were wide and worried, darting from me to Grandma, and back again.
Then …
“That smell…” I said it before I even thought it. What was it? Leather, baking, the sea, the coal fire? All of those things together. And I remembered it. The smell of the house, and the heavy tick and tock of the clock in the hallway, with the sounds of sea and wind muffled through the walls. I wasn’t just imagining it – I did remember being there.
“I only just recognised it,” I said. “How weird is that?” I was spooked. In a good way. I was going to go on, but I clocked Mum, her eyes filling up, her hand gripping the side of the chair.
I was trying to find my memories. Maybe Mum didn’t want to find hers.
“Your mother and I need to talk,” said Grandma. “Have a look around the house. You’ll find your dad’s room up there.” She pointed at the ceiling. “There’s a few of his bits and bobs; a few things that didn’t get thrown away when you upped and left for London.”
Mum clunked her cup on the saucer and glared at a painting on the wall. She was grinding her teeth, stopping herself from saying something.
It was a good time to leave them to it. Me and Teg went upstairs. Teg was chewing her hair. I held her hand.
“This must be weird for you, Tegs. He wasn’t even your dad.”
“No, but she is my grandma,” she said, like she was totally sure it was true. I didn’t want to tell her different. We were a tight little team, me, Tegan and Mum, but there were only the three of us, and if the family got to grow, by one, that was cool. Even if it wasn’t going to be for long.
“Are we going to live here one day?” she asked. She’d clearly overheard some of what we’d talked about.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“But we live in the cottage now.”
“Look, it’s complicated. I dunno what’s going to happen.”
“Will we go back to London?”
I couldn’t blame her for asking. The situation had to be pretty freaky for her. I just didn’t know how to answer. “Reckon she’ll see how it goes down here. Mum might not decide till… later. Would you like to live here?” I said. Tegan looked around the hallway, with its big wooden doors and huge window looking over the moor. She nodded.
“Which one would be my room?” she said.
“Any one you want, but you got to bags it.” This was a game we played for slices of cake or the best place on the sofa. Now it was for something important. Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. She let go of my hand and ran off to explore.
Either by fluke or some old memory, I went straight to my dad’s room. I thought it would be tidy, because the rest of the house was so neat. But it wasn’t. It was a mess. The curtains were closed, but thin, letting in a strong light. There were a load of boxes with books in. In the corner was an old record player, and a chunky grey computer from the Stone Age. On the shelves were more books, all of them about the sea. And some old metal instruments, covered with dials and numbers and cogs. I guessed they were navigation instruments.
He had clearly been a total geek. Now I knew where I got it from. He’d been an oceanographer; a scientist who looked at how currents and gulf streams and storms worked.
I was a geek too. With me it was the stars. With him it had been the sea. There was a whole new world to explore. A world of water.
I wanted to sit down and start going through all the gear, all the books. But the voices downstairs started rising. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t sound friendly.
“Sam!” It was Mum’s voice, shouting up the stairs.
“Just a minute.”
Mum was waiting downstairs, with Tegan, already with their coats on. Grandma was by the door, ready to open it.
“We’re going. Now,” said Mum. There didn’t seem much point asking why.
“You can come back though, Sam. Soon,” said Grandma. “Did you find anything of interest?”
“Yes. Thanks. Loads,” I said.
I hugged her.
IF YOU’D CALLED them a gang, they would have laughed. But that’s what they were and everyone at Penwith High knew it. The Penford Crew, the Penford surfers. That’s w
hat the other kids called them.
They didn’t really mix with anyone else, only the older lot in the sixth form over the road. The ones that surfed, that is.
If you’d said they had a leader, they’d have laughed at that too, especially Big G. But if you saw more than two of them together, Big G was there, in the middle, towering over them, looking a good two years older than he was, talking about what the waves were doing.
I didn’t know them, but from the little I’d seen, I could tell he was the most sensible. Little Skip was a bag of energy, not knowing where to spin off to next. Rag was a stoner and a joker. Big G was quiet and strong, with a rep for fighting. And Jade? I didn’t really know yet. But she seemed like trouble.
I think Big G kind of levelled them out. They looked to him to organise them. So he’d stand, arms folded, eyes staring through his mop of long, dark hair. If he didn’t reckon the surf was ‘on’, one might go, but most didn’t. If he said it was good, they all found a way. Before school, after school, weekends. Homework, family meals, out-of-school jobs delivering papers or working in cafes – none of it mattered when the waves kicked up. Once they were all off school sick, and turned up the next day suddenly better. Everyone knew where they’d been, but no one could prove it. And even if they could, no bollocking from a teacher or parent could wipe the glow away. For that gang, it was always worth it. Surfing came first. It gave them an edge, something different. They even seemed older than the others in my year. It was like everyone else was going through school, waiting to start life proper. They’d already started. In some ways, at least.
I would have liked to have been a part of it, after that first day at Tin-mines (all the spots had names – it was part of the surf thing), but if you didn’t surf, you weren’t in. And even though Skip and Rag were friendly on the first days of term, they pretty much ignored me after that.
I hadn’t conned myself into thinking I’d be their mate, but I’d hoped for something different with Jade. Largely because she was the hottest girl I’d ever seen. We got the school bus together; we lived next door. But at the bus stop was the only time she seemed to remember I existed. Apart from when we got difficult homework. Then she became my friend all of a sudden, and didn’t even try to hide why. Jade wasn’t thick, but to get what you needed to do at home you had to listen in class. And unless it was English or Art, Jade didn’t listen. At all. School bored her. The teachers bored her. The other kids bored her. She was friendly with the other girls, but none of them were like best mates. She only really talked to the other surfers. I took my notes in class, half focusing on the class, half watching her dream the day away, with her mind in the sea, knowing that later we’d be on the bus and then she’d wake up to the fact that she’d been at school for the last six hours, and she’d shove a textbook under my nose and say, “What does this mean?” Especially if it was science. My speciality. Which was half good, half bad, as I hated looking like the geek I truly was. But I also liked helping her out.
So I didn’t make friends with the surfers, but I wasn’t Sammy No-Mates either. I made two friends. Mike and Harry. They liked my Xbox, and stargazing through the telescope, and sometimes we kicked a football around. But the truth is, when I played Xbox with them, I was thinking about sitting around the campfire with Jade and her mates. I was thinking about another sunset at Tin-mines. But I didn’t surf and Jade never invited me down to the beach again.
The idea of surfing crossed my mind, but I couldn’t really swim well and we were too hard up to buy things like surfboards and wetsuits. And Mum wouldn’t have been keen. Not after Dad and what happened. So I pushed the idea away. But it nagged at me. Every time I went to sleep, listening to the sea.
*
I’d been there three weeks or so, when, on a sunny Sunday morning, Jade appeared at our front door with her dog, Tess, asking me to go for a walk. She wore trainers, jeans and a hoody, with the same denim jacket she always wore and no make-up. London girls tried a lot harder than that. Jade didn’t need to.
“No surf today then?” I said, standing in the doorway, trying to act like I wasn’t keen on the whole walk idea. She brushed the hair out of her face and looked away, in the direction of the sea.
“Honestly? Yeah, there is. But I stayed out late last night…”
“How late?”
“About two o’clock late. So Dad kind of grounded me. He’s locked my boards away, the twat. If I go off by myself, he’ll know I’m borrowing gear and going surfing, but if I’m with you…” She shrugged. That was why she was asking me to go for a walk. There were no other options. I could take it or leave it. I didn’t like it, but the alternative was homework.
We went to the sea on our bikes, with Tess following. Not Tin-mines this time. We hit the coast path, locked the bikes to an old railing and walked towards Whitesands.
She led me along the cliff and down a steep, rocky path, over the dunes to the deserted beach. We walked where the sand met the dune grass. White-grey granite cliffs stood at one end of the beach with a headland at the other. Inland the honey-coloured moor was spattered with soft purple heather. I’d started to love Cornwall by then, its beauty and its wildness, but I knew better than to go on about it to Jade. She took all that for granted. She didn’t know any different.
The sea was a mass of wind-smashed white peaks and dark blue troughs, with the odd shoulder-high wave trying to make a shape in all that anarchy. Jade looked at it. Hungry.
“You know, you’re mad to live here and not surf,” she said.
“I don’t like the water much.”
“What? Why?” She frowned like I’d said the most stupid thing possible. I thought we might get into it then; I thought I might tell her about Dad. But then we heard a loud cry. The scared cry of someone in trouble.
At the far end of the beach was a young girl – maybe eleven or twelve – in a wetsuit, standing knee-deep in the shore break. She was shouting and waving at the sea. A surfboard lay on the sand behind her.
“That’s Milly,” said Jade. “She’s far too young to be out by herself. Where’s her mum? What the hell is she doing?”
Jade started running. I followed.
The girl was shouting at her dog, a Jack Russell, which was caught in the surf, drifting out, really quickly, like it was being pulled on an invisible rope. Its eyes were wide with panic. Tess started barking like crazy.
“The dog’s in a rip,” said Jade.
My blood iced. “Um, we should… er…” I said. I sounded weak, feeble. I felt that way too. Jade gave me a look like a whiplash.
“I’ll take care of it,” she said, starting to strip, chucking her clothes on to the wet sand.
“No! I’ll go,” I said.
And that was it. Three simple, stupid words. I didn’t think about it; I didn’t weigh it up. I just didn’t want to look as pathetic as I felt right then. So I went. Because drowning’s better than looking weak, right?
“I’ll come too,” said Jade, undoing her laces.
“No!” I said. “It’s okay. I can do it.” I was acting like Clark Kent, ripping off his clothes to reveal his Superman costume. But there was no Superman underneath. Just my weedy, shaking body. Every inch of my skin screamed at me not to do it, but I watched myself like in some out-of-body trip, kicking off my boots, picking up Milly’s sponge surfboard, and running in.
It got deep, quickly. The cold water shocked me, its energy washing round my legs, soaking my clothes. Even the sand turned to liquid under my feet. The shore was only a few feet away, but once my feet lost touch with the sand it might as well have been a thousand miles.
I jumped on the board, dug my hands in the water and paddled. It was frenzied and clumsy, but somehow I moved forward, wobbling side to side, gasping and spluttering as I crashed through the chop, salt water catching in my throat and smacking me in the eyes. I had no idea what I was doing.
I must have been caught in the same rip as the dog, because I went a long way very quickly, but once
I was out there, beyond the shore break, I couldn’t see the dog. The sea was getting smacked around by the wind and I was rocking madly, trying to stay on the board. It was chaos.
I didn’t even see the first wave – the first proper full-of-aggro wave – till it reared up in front of me. I paddled over the top and plunged downwards. A miracle. I was almost relieved, but there was another wave that had been hidden by the first one. It was bigger, but again I made it, just before it broke.
Then the third one came. A solid wall of water. As it pushed me backwards it paused, long enough to let me know what was happening. Then it tore the board from my hands and pummelled me into the sea.
There was no up, no down, no light, no dark. The world was replaced by a tornado of blue fury, and I was in the heart of it, churning over and over like a ragdoll in a washing machine.
It seemed to take forever. When it had finished, my lungs were bursting, and I was filled with sharp, high-pitched panic. A panic that had me by the heart and throat. I pushed and kicked and swam, desperate to get to the surface.
Seconds passed like years.
Eventually I surfaced, but instead of air I breathed foam, a lungful of froth that had me choking and hacking.
The next wave hit me like a truck. No spinning this time, this one just ground me downwards. Down deep, I opened my eyes. Seeing nothing but bruise-coloured dark, I panicked. Full on. My body gave in to it and I breathed water into my lungs. I heard the next wave roll over me. I swam upwards expecting another wave, half thinking there was no point because this merciless bastard force was going to keep hammering me till I gave up.
But then…
Swimming up, I saw turquoise light. The daylight world of land and air. The world that I’d been torn from was there. Just there. If I could only… get to it.
I surfaced, spasming coughs and gasps.
There was the dog, the Jack Russell, right beside me. Lucky for the dog. I would have gone back and not even have remembered it. Right then I’d have done anything to be back on land, but there the dog was, and I clung to it. I kicked my legs and thrashed with one arm and we slowly headed to the shore.