by Chris Vick
I looked around, then put my hand down my trousers, pulled out the weed we’d brought and showed it to Tel under the table.
“Will this do?” I said. Tel’s eyes lit up like the pub’s fruit machine.
“Billy. Come over ’ere!” he called out.
Billy came over. Tel showed Billy the weed under the table, then, after a quick look round, reached over and shoved it into Billy’s jacket pocket.
“This thing in PZ with the guitar,” said Tel. “And slashing Ned’s tyres. Whoever you put up to it. And don’t make out you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re even. Right?”
Billy just stood there, looking at me. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. He shrugged.
“I said, right?” said Tel. Billy shrugged again, and walked off. But this seemed enough to satisfy Tel.
“You can tell Ned and Rag we’ll have some more of that, if it’s any good. We’ll pay.”
He sat back, took a long slug of his beer, and wiped the froth off his mouth with the back of his hand. He was all smiles now. Business was done.
“Waves will come up on the push, maybe two and a half feet. Bit mushy, but fun. Specially after a pint and a spliff, right? Heh heh. You learning to surf then, Sam?”
And that was it. What I’d been worried about all week was sorted. I made nice to Tel, chatting away about surfing, but inside my head I was breathing a tidal-wave-sized sigh of relief and itching to get out. I hadn’t had a fight, hadn’t got busted. I had sorted things. I was a fucking hero.
Wolf? What wolf? This was easy. All we had to do now was scarper. Go and have a victory surf.
But Jade was in the corner, sat with Mick, looking settled in. Drinking.
Mick. I didn’t even know him and I hated him. He looked pretty much as he had done at the beach. Smart, clean threads, perfect blond hair. And very, very interested in every word that came out of Jade’s mouth. Bastard.
I didn’t want to go and demand we left. So I waited, talking to Tel and his mates.
They all talked about surfing. What else? And were going on about some trip they had planned to Morocco. I don’t remember who, but someone had the mag with the pic of the Horns on its cover.
“Don’t need to travel to Morocco this winter,” said Tel, grabbing the mag off the table and pointing at the cover. “We got this right here!”
“Yeah, but you have to find it,” said one of the girls.
“I’ll bet we find it and surf it before you lot,” Jade shouted, coming out of the little Jade-and-Mick bubble that existed in the corner.
The older, wiry guy spoke up then. He spoke slow and quiet, but everyone listened.
“I been in a boat all round every island between here and the Scillies, fishing like. Spooky, some of those spots. You any idea how many ships and boats are lying on thebottom? Any case, there’s no island looks anything like that, not with a lighthouse on it. Take my word for it. And anyways, that’s not an English wave. Ireland at least, maybe Portugal.”
“We’ll find it,” said Jade. I noticed her glass was almost empty. She must have necked that pint. “Me, G, maybe Skip,” she said.
But she didn’t say “and Sam”. Why not? I didn’t have the years under my belt like the others, but I was learning fast. Why not me too?
“It ain’t real,” said Billy, scoffing. “You heard Bob.”
“It’s real,” I said, loudly.
“Yeah, cuz you’d know,” said Billy.
Mick was pouring some of his drink into Jade’s glass. Then he patted her thigh with his hand. She pulled her leg away, pushed his hand away. But gently, smiling.
“We’re going to surf it. Right, Jade?” I said, loudly.
She looked up.
“Right on, Sammy boy. I’ll drink to that…” She picked up Mick’s lager and swigged it. She sounded a bit pissed.
“This is all bull,” said Tel. “It’s not real, and if it was, no one’s going to surf it.”
“We are,” I said, louder still, staring at Jade. I stood up, grabbed my board and bag. I didn’t want to hang out there any longer, watching Mick get Jade drunk. If she came with me, great, but if she stayed, that was her choice.
“Got a map, have you?” said Billy. There were a few laughs at that. I kept looking at Jade.
“A chart. Yeah.”
They stopped talking, stopped laughing. No one had expected me to say that. Jade looked at me, saw how serious I was. She got up. She’d suddenly forgotten all about Mick. She’d suddenly forgotten about everything. It was like we were the only ones there.
“Hey, where you going?” said Mick.
Jade walked over, till she stood right in front of me. Close. She whispered. “You got a chart?”
I nodded. It was like on the tor, when I told her about energy. But it wasn’t just a switch that had gone on now. I’d lit a fire. And it was raging in her eyes.
Jade picked up her kit.
“Let’s go,” she said.
I walked out of there buzzing. My skin was on fire I was so happy. We’d made the peace. We were going to surf the Horns.
Everything was sorted.
WE DIDN’T GO surfing in St Wenna. The waves weren’t good enough to distract Jade from what I’d told her. All she wanted to do was get home and see the chart for herself. On the bus she talked about it non-stop for five minutes, firing questions at me. But then she was quiet, pretty much the whole rest of the journey.
When we got back, I went and got the chart and the book, then went and joined Jade in the den. She was pacing round. Tess too. Poor dog thought we were going for a walk.
“Well?” she said.
I unfolded the chart, and laid it down on the floor. Carefully, because it was fragile. Jade got down on her hands and knees and looked over every inch of the faded ink and sun-washed paper.
“You’re sure?” she said. “DH. Devil’s Horns.”
I knelt beside her, showing her the book, then pointing to different bits of the map. Her hair trailed over my arm. Her breath brushed the back of my hand.
“The initials are islands,” I said, my voice wobbling a bit. “The names are shipwrecks. I’ve looked up everything I can on the net too. I wanted to be sure before I told you. There’s records of the wrecks, and there’s mentions of some of the islands and rocks. I can’t know for certain, as they’re just nicknames fishermen and sailors gave them. Sometimes two different islands have the same name, or one island has two names. There’s lots of mentions of Devil’s Horns, but no exact location. But my dad, he was a scientist. That’s what he was trying to do, put some proper mapping down. Sort truth from myth. For some reason, he thought the ship that went down at the Horns was in that exact location. Maybe he found something off the wreck.”
She sat back, kneeling. I did the same.
“Wow, you’re a one, ain’t you?” she said, wide-eyed, with her mouth open.
“What d’you mean?”
“You go and rescue a dog when you can’t even swim proper. You learn to surf, by yourself. In secret. You’re some kind of science professor. You don’t bottle smuggling weed, sorting a fight… And now you find the one thing everyone round here is looking for. Anything else I don’t know about you, Kook?”
I just smiled.
“Did you see their faces, when we walked out of that pub?” she said. “Shit, that was cool. It’s gonna start some talk. I’d look after that chart, if I was you. And don’t tell anyone where the Horns are. Only us. Swear.” She spat on her hand and held it out. I spat into my palm, and we shook. We looked hard into each other’s eyes, holding on to each other’s hands a moment too long. Then we let go and both turned away, a bit embarrassed, and wiped our hands on our jeans.
“We’re really going to surf it?” I said.
“Dunno. Now it’s real… actually happening, I don’t know if we’re ready,” she said. “We can tell the surf mags though. They’ll send some pros, cameras, jet skis. We’ll get a mention as the kids who told them wher
e it was. Hey, maybe they’d let us come and watch?”
“Um, really?” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “No, shit-brains. Not really. Course we’re gonna fucking surf it. And… what? What? Why you looking at me like that?”
Jade all fired up. She looked hot; I couldn’t help it any longer. I put my arm round her, pulled her in towards me, and kissed her.
At first she looked terrified, eyes wide and staring. She raised a hand and put it on my chest, keeping me where I was, stopping me getting closer, looking up at me. But she didn’t push me away.
I kissed her again.
I felt her soften, the hand on my chest coming up, round my shoulder.
Her mouth opening.
For a moment, our tongues touched… Then she pulled away. Breathless.
“I got to take Tess. I’ll see you later, yeah?” And she was gone, running away from me as fast as she could. Down the steps, out the door, over the moors. Leaving me wondering.
*
The following morning, me, Jade, Rag and Skip sat in the Old Chapel cafe, fuelling up for the day’s surf on toast and mugs of tea. Only Big G was missing. I was glad about that. It was always that bit less intense when he wasn’t around. Jade was drinking Red Bull as well as tea. Gallons of it. She was fired up about the Devil’s Horns and begging me to show the chart to the others.
Apart from that, she wasn’t any different. There was nothing in the way she looked at me, or acted, that said… We kissed yesterday.
I laid the chart out carefully on the table. It seemed so fragile it might break up like dry leaves if I didn’t treat it right.
“Wow,” said Skip, “that’s the real deal. Where’d you get it?”
“In my dad’s stuff,” I said.
Jade looked at me, when I said about Dad. Her eyes were sad, but she gave me a little smile and squeezed my leg under the table. And suddenly it was like we were together again.
I decided not to say anything about what had happened to my dad right then. I didn’t want to freak Skip out. I didn’t want to scare anyone, or spoil the mood.
Jade and Skip leant over it, reading Dad’s writing.
“DH. Devil’s Horns,” said Skip.
“Told you,” said Jade. “Rag, take a look.”
“What? Yeah, sure,” said Rag, lazily. He didn’t even glance at the chart. He just looked round the cafe, smiling stupidly at the families eating their breakfasts.
“Well we don’t know it’s the Horns, do we?” said Skip. “Not for sure, not till we go and have a look.” But even if he had doubts, he couldn’t hide how excited he was. He drummed the table with his fingers, then he put his glasses on, leant right over, so his nose was almost touching the paper. “That land bit, that’s Nanjizal, just south of Land’s End. These islands are a few miles south. Surfwise, it’s looking good.”
“What do you mean?” said Jade.
“See these?” He traced lines on the chart that ran to the islands in long curves. “Those are contours on the seabed. See where there’s a load bunched together? That’s a trench. Most swells would go over it, sideways. But say there’s a storm bringing in a swell from south-south-west, a mean mother that sits out there for a week, kicking up twenty-foot waves. The coastal shelf takes the punch out of it. Saps it. That’s why Hawaii gets big waves. No coastal shelf, see? Same size storm in the Atlantic, we’re lucky to get six foot. But this –” he tapped on the chart – “this trench is a swell funnel. You wouldn’t know it was there, but, like I say, if you had the right angle…” His fingers walked up the trench, then he made a cup with his hand like it was a wave. A wave that buried the island.
“Hawaii?” said Jade.
“On our doorstep.”
“We can do this; we can totally fucking do this,” said Jade. Her eyes were busting out of her skull. She was high as a cloud on Red Bull and sheer stoke.
Skip laughed. “I dunno about doing it. I might come and just watch you, make sure you don’t kill yourself. What about you, Rag?”
“Yeah, whatever,” said Rag. He was still looking round the cafe, not looking any one of us in the eye when we spoke to him. Under the table, one of his legs was bouncing up and down like it had a motor in it. I figured he’d smoked too much weed that morning. Maybe being in this public place was freaking him out a bit.
“I think we should check out the island,” said Jade. “Take supplies out there and leave them. Get ready for the day.”
“It needs the right kind of storm,” said Skip, “and we’ll need the right kind of kit. Big wave boards, proper guns, GoPro cameras to get proof. We’ll need a couple at least, so we can film the surfing in the water and from the island. Some serious camping gear, cans of food and bottles of water, firewood… Oh, and we’ll need to get there a day before the big swell hits or the waves’ll smash up the boat and spread us over the reef like jam.”
It was tricky, but we could do it. If we were lucky, it’d be a weekend when the big waves came. If not, we’d bunk off school.
None of this worried Jade.
“I’m going to ride a big wave and get filmed doing it. That’s it.” She necked some more Red Bull.
“What do you mean, ‘it’?” I said.
“We put the place on the map, and I get famous. Mag covers, sponsors. I’m made.”
For Jade, it was that simple. I don’t think she was too worried about GCSEs.
“Dunno why you don’t just enter contests,” said Skip. “You’re good enough.”
“Too slow,” said Jade, waving away the idea. “Takes forever to get cred. But if we surf this place… just one wave, that’s all it takes. From now on we’re chasing big waves every time a storm hits. We don’t run away from swell. Screw surfing sheltered spots, we go full-on wherever there’s decent size waves, right? We’ve got to get in shape. We’ve got to get used to taking big wipeouts. Get ready for the day.” She banged the table. She was totally serious, totally fired up about the plan.
Rag checked the clock on the wall, then stood up. “I’m going for a slash. When someone comes in looking for me, I’m in the bogs.”
“What do you mean when…?” Skip looked at me, frowning. Worried. “You’re doing a deal, aren’t you?” said Skip through his teeth, kicking the table leg. “Shit!”
“No biggy,” said Rag. “The St Wenna lot liked the gear; they want some more.” He shrugged, and walked off quickly.
I was as pissed off as Skip. I’d gone all the way to St Wenna with a bag of weed stuffed down my pants. But I’d chosen to do that. This was different. I didn’t like how we were suddenly involved in Rag’s ‘business’.
Jade shrugged. “Nothing to do with us,” she said. She didn’t give a shit. She was all about the chart right then. She had another good look at it, like just staring at it would make the storm come. Like it was a piece of magic that would make all her dreams come true.
She kept asking me and Skip questions, getting into how we’d follow the weather reports, the surf forecasts, stuff like that. But I only half listened. Now I was constantly checking the door to see who’d come in. And so was Skip. I told myself it would be okay. At least Rag wasn’t doing the deal at the table.
Who was it going to be? Tel, Billy, someone else?
We waited.
One minute.
Two minutes.
“I don’t like this,” said Skip. “This isn’t our shit to deal with. What’s Rag playing at?”
Then the door opened.
It wasn’t Billy that walked in. It wasn’t Tel. It was two policemen.
EVERYTHING RUSHED IN at me. Everything was razor sharp. The step of their boots on the flagstone floor. The ticking of the clock on the wall. The coffee machine gurgling. The bright yellow strips on their jackets. Their calm, serious faces as they talked with the woman at the counter. Looking at us, back to her, back to us. I felt and saw everything, but at the same time was totally out of it, like I wasn’t me any more.
It was Rag who was in trou
ble. But we’d all get searched and questioned. We were all involved. And I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all.
Everyone in the cafe was looking at the police, then at us, but pretending not to.
“It’s probably nothing to do with Rag, right?” said Skip. But I knew. I just knew. And so did Jade.
“Sam,” said Jade. Her voice was soft and clear. “Sam. Don’t look at them; look at me. Look. At. Me.”
The police were still at the counter, still talking to the woman. I forced myself not to stare at them in wide-eyed horror; forced myself to turn and look at Jade.
“Go and warn Rag. Flush the gear. Don’t look at them. Just go.”
I tried to stand, but my legs didn’t want to. I was heavy and cold, made of stone. I got up. Somehow.
It was dreamlike, walking to the bog, thinking I was going too fast but walking in slow motion too. I had no idea what speed I was walking, or how I looked. It was hard just remembering how to walk, without falling over or banging into anything.
In the bog, Rag was standing in the corner. The world got real again, super fast.
“Police,” I whispered, “two of them.”
Rag’s face fell apart. “Pigs! What do we do?”
“What do you mean we? You flush it. Get rid, Rag. Quick.”
Rag shook his head. “No way. They’re probably not even here for me.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I properly could not believe it. “You reckon? You’ve been set up, Rag. It’s obvious. Flush the fucking drugs. Now.”
He pulled the stuff out of his trousers. A packet like the one I’d taken to St Wenna. The size of a large green pebble, held in his hand. He offered it to me. I held my hands up, backing away from him, shaking my head.
“What you doing?” I said.
“That favour. When we gave you the board, the suit. You promised.” Rag begged me. “You owe me, Sam. Shove this down your trousers. They’re looking for me. I’ll go out there, keep ’em busy. You follow in a minute, sneak out the door.”
“No way, Rag, no way.”
“Please, man, come on.” He was holding it out to me, jabbing at me with it, desperate for me to take it.