by Chris Vick
“Nah. Let him stew. He shouldn’t have let you take the blame, should he? How about the tor?” she said. The sky was dark, boiling with grey clouds that looked like they would burst any second.
“What about the den?” I said. She shook her head.
“I need to get out too. Dad knows what’s gone on. Sort of. I can’t take you round mine, not unless you want a load more questions.”
I didn’t. Mum came out of the door then. She must have sneaked back down. Had she been listening? How much had she heard?
“We’re going out,” I said.
“No you’re not, Sam,” Mum said, hanging on to the door like it was holding her up.
Stalemate. Again. I didn’t want to just run off. But I wasn’t going back inside. I think Mum could see that.
“All right,” said Mum, sighing. “All right, go. Go and see your grandma. You can’t get in trouble there.” Mum had had enough of arguing with me. For that day at least. She went inside.
“You coming?” I said to Jade, as casually as I could, but really hoping she could see how much I needed her to say yes. How much I needed her.
“Yeah, course,” said Jade, softly. And she kissed me again. On the cheek this time.
We went to get our bikes, before Mum could change her mind.
*
We stood at the front door, waiting.
“Woooow, you’re proper posh, aren’t you?” said Jade, looking up at the blue-framed windows and cloud-white walls. She had her hood up, to keep off the rain that had started up. I leant over and pulled it off her head.
She was about to complain, but then the door opened, and there was Grandma.
Sometimes she seemed small and grey. Other times busting with life and energy, not like a sick person at all – this was one of those times. As usual, she wore a scarf on her head and one of her smocks, covered in flecks of paint.
She held a hand out for Jade to shake. Jade held a hand out too. She was like a mouse, small, and holding back, suddenly unsure of herself.
“You’re Jade?” said Grandma.
“Yes.”
“Ah, the siren,” said Grandma.
“Um… what?” said Jade.
“The girl who has led poor innocent Sam into so much trouble.” Jade looked scared for a second. It was the only time I ever saw it. Grandma put her hands on her hips and looked down at Tess. “And you… a foul, scraggy mutt to mess up my clean house. Hmmm. I suppose you want a biscuit too?”
Tess was cowering a bit. She wasn’t sure what to do either. But she wagged her tail when she heard ‘biscuit’.
“I know all about it, Sam. Your mother rang ahead. I think to make sure you did actually end up here and not go off getting into more trouble. Now come in. I want to know everything. But let me assure you, I am with your mother on this.”
She disappeared, leaving us to let ourselves in. I’d been hoping for a soft landing, letting Grandma know in my own time, in my own way. I had hoped Grandma would be less uptight than Mum; she seemed to be about most things. Clearly not drugs though.
Jade was bug-eyed. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” she whispered. But Tess slipped in the door, looking for that biscuit.
“You can go if you want,” I whispered back.
“Nah. I ain’t leaving you to face any more of this shit alone.”
We went in, glad to be out of the wind and the rain that was now lashing down. Grandma was walking up the stairs.
“I’m going to lie down. I don’t need to, I just feel like it. You make the tea and biscuits and bring them up.”
Me and Jade and Tess went to the kitchen and I got busy with the kettle and teapot.
Jade was like Alice in Wonderland, curious and more curious, nosing around the kitchen, then going into the lounge with me following her, checking out the paintings, the furniture, the books on the shelves, picking up vases and little statues on the shelves and examining them.
She knew all about Grandma, and the whole family situation. But I hadn’t really told her about the house. Everything about it was so different from the cottages. More space. Cleaner, fresher. More expensive. I was a bit embarrassed about it, really. Jade and her dad weren’t ever going to live anywhere like this.
When the kettle whistled, we went back into the kitchen.
“You won’t want to know us lot when you move in here,” said Jade. “Posh boy.”
She said it like a joke, teasing me, but she wasn’t smiling.
“Yeah, I will,” I said. We looked at each other. Each of us dead serious about what we’d said.
“Kettle’s whistling,” she said.
*
Grandma lay on the bed. There was a wicker table and two chairs next to it. It was like she’d planned us coming round and having tea in her room. Perhaps she had. She patted the bed beside her, and Tess leapt straight up and snuggled up by Grandma, waiting for her first biscuit.
“So, Sam, what happened?”
“What did Mum say?”
“Everything she knows. But I suspect that isn’t the half of it.”
I told her about the cafe, and the police station, said I’d tried weed a few times. But I wouldn’t do it again. She put her cup down and shook her head.
“You’re no drug dealer. You’re not a troublemaker. Not like Jade here. She looks like trouble on a stick.” Jade smiled weakly, then found something on the floor to look at. I was hoping for the Grandma I was beginning to know. Mischievous, sarky, but warm-hearted. That was the Grandma I wanted Jade to meet. That Grandma wasn’t there today though. This one was pissed off, and she knew Jade was one of the gang of mates that had got me into trouble.
Grandma sighed.
“Well. At least you took the flak. You have been loyal to your friends. Some small consolation.”
“Mum’s not very happy.”
“Of course she isn’t. Any mother would be the same.”
“She says I have to stop surfing. Or else she might take us back to London.”
“Noooo!” said Jade in horror. “What about the Horns?”
“The what?” said Grandma.
Jade shot me an oh shit look. Grandma glared at me for an answer.
“It’s a surf spot, down the coast.”
“Horns? Devil’s Horns?”
“Um. Yes. You know it?” I said, trying to sound calm.
“It rings a bell. Your father mentioned it a couple of times.” Grandma sighed again. “Anyway. Look. Your mother is very upset right now. She may say things she doesn’t mean. And as for the surfing… She lost her husband to the ocean, Sam. This little drama is the perfect excuse to get you out of the water. I’m sure she will relent, because if you don’t do this, it’ll just be some other sort of stupid thing teenagers do. I mean, there are no more wolves to kill, are there?”
“What, Grandma?” What did she know about wolves? I’d never told her about the graffiti.
“Rites of passage, Sam. In old times, you became a man by killing a wolf, or a tiger, or some such beast. That’s how you proved yourself. Well, there are no more beasts to kill. You have to make your own wolves. Or travel to find them. Listen, I’ll talk to Jean when she’s calmed down. But you have to prove to her that you won’t do anything else stupid or dangerous. Do you think you can do that?”
Me and Jade looked at each other. Surfing the Devil’s Horns was pretty high on the list of stupid and dangerous things we could do.
“I’ll look after him,” said Jade. Grandma put her hand on Jade’s arm. She gripped it like her hand was a claw.
“You’ll keep him safe?” said Grandma, suspicious.
“Yeah. I promise,” said Jade.
I DIDN’T SEE the others till I was back at school. Jade had got a text telling me to meet them in the boys’ bogs.
Big G was leaning against the sinks; Skip and Rag stood by the far wall, under the frosted window. They all had downer looks. Arms folded, frowns on their faces. Rag looked like he hadn’t slept for a month.
/> “Well?” said Rag.
I waited, holding out for a few seconds, just for a bit of sick pleasure.
“I didn’t tell them anything,” I said.
Rag came away from the wall. He put his hands on my shoulders, stared into my eyes.
“You took the blame,” he said slowly, to make sure we both understood what was being said. And what it meant. “They think it was yours? Seriously?”
“Yeah,” I said, “they pretty much knew I was covering, but I said it was mine.”
“You know what, Sam. I fucking love you and I want to have your babies!” He threw himself at me. “You are a legend, Kook!!!!!” His stubble rubbed my cheek. “Thank you, Sam. Thank you.”
“Jesus, Rag, you are a massive pussy,” said Big G, then patted me on the back like I was a good dog. “Well done, dude. Seriously, that’s huge; you didn’t have to do that.” Skip came and patted me on the back too.
The sound of laughing brought Jade in. She rolled her eyes at the sight of me being hugged by Rag, and the others, almost joining in.
“You lot are cosy,” she said. She pulled a face. “Ugh. Stinks in here.”
“So what happened?” said Big G, ignoring her.
Once I’d peeled Rag off me, I told them. How I’d been charged with possession. How I had to go to juvenile court, but I’d probably get away with a warning, and a bit of community service. How they knew I was covering. How it was really Rag and Ned they were after, and that they’d made threats as to how bad it was going to be for me if I didn’t grass.
“Rag was set up then,” said Big G, punching the wall. “Billy’s dead already.”
“Sam,” said Rag, “come round mine tonight. I’ve got a present for you. A big one.”
“If it’s a bag of weed, I don’t want it,” I said, laughing.
“No, Kook. It’s way better than that.”
*
I texted Mum that I had to stay back after school to talk to a teacher about science homework.
If me and Jade weren’t too long at Rag’s, we could get on the next bus and be home an hour later than normal.
I didn’t know if Mum would buy it or not. I didn’t care.
Above the garage was that choice bit of art-graffitti I’d seen before. Fear makes the wolf look bigger.
Ned was in the Aladdin’s cave garage, working on a board with a sander. He was wearing a kind of mask over his nose and mouth, and was covered in white dust. He took it off, put it on top of the board. He wiped his hand on his jeans and offered it to me.
“Rag texted me, told me what you did, Sam. That’s big. I’ve got a bit of form and Rag’s been in trouble too. Police, school. We can’t afford any more aggro. So you taking the heat … it means a lot, yeah? You didn’t have to do that.”
“What about this present then?” said Jade, sounding excited, like it was for her.
Ned went through the rack, till he found what he was looking for.
He handed the wetsuit to me.
The suit was sheer, matt black neoprene. It had a fresh rubber smell, a gleaming chunky zip. There were no holes, no worn patches. It had a big square tag on it, with a picture of a guy riding a thick winter barrel of near-black water.
It was new.
“Try it on,” said Ned.
There weren’t any changing rooms in this shop. Jade turned away, getting very interested in the boards. I kept my boxers on. I wasn’t about to get naked in front of Ned and Rag, even if Jade hadn’t been there.
The wetsuit was a nightmare to put on. I had to squeeze myself into it, pulling and stretching at the rubber, inch by inch. It sucked at my skin, not letting me in unless I really heaved and pulled. When I was in it, I couldn’t get the zip at the back up. I had to ask Ned to do it.
I started getting hot, even though I wasn’t moving. It was tight, but not too much. Ned nodded his approval.
“Good fit. Don’t piss in it unless you really, really have to,” said Ned, “and if you do, do it right at the beginning of a sesh.”
He stood back then, sizing me up, just like when him and Rag had given me Old Faithful.
Ned asked me a bunch of questions. About how I rode a board, what kind of waves I liked, what turns I could do. When he was happy he knew what he needed, he went and got a board from the ones lined up against the wall. He handed it to me.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“I’m giving you this board.”
I stood, wondering at the thing I held, wanting it more than I had ever wanted anything. But feeling guilty too. It was a reward for not grassing. And it was too much.
I wanted to say, I can’t take it, but the longer I held it, the harder it was to get the words out. Or let go of the board.
I was on fire, I was so happy.
It was a different beast from Old Faithful. Shorter, lighter. It had a pointed, upturned nose.
It wasn’t new. It was covered in dirty wax. But it didn’t have loads of fixed dings. It was more like the boards the others rode. In my head, I was surfing it already, imagining what it could do, how fast it would go, how it would carve up the wave.
“It’s thick in the middle, plenty of volume, so it catches waves easy,” Ned explained. “Not a high-performance board, but you’ll be able to do proper bottom turns. Off the lip too. It’ll take a bit of getting used to; don’t expect much in your first session.”
“I dunno what to say,” I said, standing there, grinning like a kid at Christmas who got his dream present. “It’s too much, Ned. I can’t take it.”
“You don’t mean that,” said Jade. And she was right.
Rag and Jade took turns to hold it, feeling the weight of it, feasting their eyes on its lines and shape, comparing it to their own boards, talking about what it could do.
“You could surf the Devil’s Horns with that board, if the waves weren’t too big,” said Jade.
Ned shook his head. “I heard about that. You’re chasing a myth. Not that you groms’d be up to the job, even if you could find it,” he said.
“Really?” said Jade. “Ned, do you know anyone with a boat?”
NED DID KNOW someone with a boat.
A rotten-toothed, leather-skinned old fisherman called Pete.
He picked me and Jade up at Penzeal harbour the next Saturday morning in his fishing boat Sunrise. It was even older and more knackered than he was, and stank of mackerel and creosote.
“Nice,” I said to Jade. “Reckon it’ll get us home?”
Pete helped us aboard. Us, our boards and bags, and two plastic barrels filled with firewood, bottles of water, blankets and cans of food that we planned to leave at the islands. If we found them.
My old board and suit were still at our house. Not chucked out, but not being used either. I’d told Mum we were going fishing.
“Staying there long?” Pete said.
“We’re looking for a surf spot,” said Jade, giving him a photocopy of the chart. “We might go back there sometime.”
She showed him the surf mag. The lighthouse, the massive wave.
“I seen those islands,” said Pete. “There ain’t no lighthouse there. The light that keeps boats away from them rocks is a mile further off. Southwest.”
“What? Where?” said Jade. “Show us on the chart.” She glared at me, eyes blazing. “Maybe that’s it, Sam. The one he’s talking about. A mile off the islands.”
“Nah,” said Pete. “It don’t look anything like that one. It’s a modern thing, sat on a tiny rock, not a proper island. Nothing like that picture.”
“Take us anyway,” said Jade, sounding flat. She dumped her board with the barrels and went and stood at the front of the boat, with her arms crossed, looking out to sea.
“It’s thirty quid,” Pete said, with his hand out. I gave him a plastic bag full of notes and coins, a lot of it loose change from Jade’s money box.
He started the engine. I went and joined Jade. She was staring into the mist, looking for something that wasn’t the
re.
“You heard him,” I said. “What my dad wrote on the chart, it could mean anything, not Devil’s Horns at all. You’ll be disappointed.”
With the chart, I thought. With me.
“We have to know. We won’t know till we go.”
Jade was quiet after that. She wouldn’t talk. The only sounds were the chug of the engine and the odd gull crying out. The sea was green-oil calm. Misty, with no wind.
*
The mist cleared when we got near. We could see the islands. A circle of them. Three islands at the further edge of the circle, the biggest about a quarter of a mile long, the other two a bit smaller. Between them and us was a scattering of rocks, sticking out of the ocean like shark’s teeth. The smaller rocks were bare, apart from strands of seaweed. They’d be covered by water at high tide. But the three larger islands had tufts of grass and rocks stained white and grey by gulls’ shit.
I couldn’t see any lighthouse.
I looked at Jade. She shrugged and spat over the side.
The sun began to shine through in columns, lighting up the sea. In the water, in front of the boat, I could see smooth, almost white rocks, like round tables under the surface, and gardens of seaweed and turquoise sandy shallows. Pretty. But around the circle of islands and rocks, nothing but deep, dark-blue ocean.
Pete put Sunrise in reverse, then killed the engine. He came and joined us at the front of the boat.
“This is as far as I can go. See them rocks? More’n a few boats gone down ’ere. It’s a graveyard, see. Lot of bones ground into the sand… I’ve never put a pot down there. Nor cast a line. Never will. I stay clear most of the time.”
I thought about Dad. Not for the first time, I played with the idea that this was where he died.
But he’d have known about this place. He’d have known the dangers. He’d never have come here.
But then Grandma had said he’d been caught out in…
“What’s it like in a storm, Pete?” I said.
“I never been near it in a storm. I ain’t stupid. I only come ’ere today as it’s mostly calm.”
Mostly.
There was no wind, no swell rocking the boat. But there was a wave. It was breaking on the other side of the smaller of the three islands, twenty yards offshore. Not huge, no more than shoulder-high, but peeling smooth and even into the shallows.