Surf School

by Laurine Croasdale

  Sam said he’s going into the hospital again tomorrow so I’ll come and give you a hand at the School. You don’t have to pay me ANYTHING. That is not why I am here.

  I’m now going to hide the Blood Book in a new spot so you will find it in your travels.

  Mermaid Marlee

  The fridge is such a dumb place to keep books. Their little pages go all crispy and stiff. Anyway – der – the fridge is the first place I go at 3 am when I can’t sleep, which is every night at the moment. I thought you might leave me a bit of pizza (so much for the ‘no junk food’ rule – that didn’t last a week) but no, you and the compost bin polished it off, leaving me a red capsicum and a bit of cheese. What am I meant to do with that?!

  Dad’s more awake now but he’s gone kind of loopy, imagining all these weird things. I tried to tell him that no-one’s trying to hurt him (someone already did that) but he’s totally paranoid. The nurse said that it’s the pain relief drugs he’s on and he’ll calm down.

  Sam asked Dad what he remembered about the accident and he said he saw stars. He might be totally off his dial but he’s still telling really lame jokes! That’s got to be a good sign.

  I was a bit better at the hospital today – well, until the end of the visit when they wheeled some guy back into the ward after an operation. I got all panicked again and had to wait outside for Sam. Sam suggested that from now on I help at the School and he’ll go into the hospital and look after Dad. I didn’t even have to say anything!! I think he’s sick of looking after me at the hospital as well as Dad.

  I can imagine you as a mermaid. Maybe that’s a career after pro surfing. Marlee Finn, Mermaid. Available for corporate events, rock festivals (sorry lame jokes run in the family) and fish ponds.

  Best friend 4 eva,

  Tilly

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Tilly gritted her teeth as the roller door screeched along the track. She made a mental note to oil it. How could her dad plan on upgrading the School and overlook something so obvious? It was cool inside and she went about her routine: turning off the alarm, switching on the jug, checking phone messages. It was something she’d never done without her dad and now she was glad Marlee was there. She smiled gratefully at her. ‘That surf was brilliant, even if the waves weren’t great. I’m glad you got me up.’

  Marlee spooned hot chocolate into mugs. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ Marlee grinned. ‘It’s not the same being out in the surf without you.’ She poured in the boiling water, slopped in some milk and pushed a cup across the desk to Tilly. ‘Guess training’s off the agenda for the time being?’ She broached the subject carefully, not daring to look at Tilly.

  Wisps of steam rose towards the low ceiling. Tilly blew gently into her cup. ‘For a while,’ she said guiltily. ‘I’m sorry, Marlee. It doesn’t matter what I do at the moment, I feel like I’m letting somebody down. If I’m helping at the School, I’m not with Dad or I’m too tired to train and I feel bad about that.’

  ‘You’re not letting me down, Tilly,’ Marlee said loyally. ‘I know it’s hard. It’s just that …’

  ‘That doesn’t mean you can’t keep going with the plan though,’ Tilly said hurriedly, sensing Marlee’s disappointment. ‘Keep training and I’ll get back to it as soon as I can. Did you find out about the wildcard entries for next year?’

  Marlee stirred her hot chocolate so the froth chased her spoon in an endless circle. The wildcard entry forms were tucked into her back pocket. ‘Nah, maybe I’ll leave it for now, but yeah,’ she said, vaguely, ‘I’ll keep training.’ She sipped her drink, the froth forming a moustache on her upper lip. ‘Of course I’ll keep training.’ She chuckled. ‘There’s not much choice at school anyway. They have you going all the time. Maybe you were smart not to take up your spot there.’

  ‘Do you remember that fight we had about it?’ Tilly shook her head. ‘That was so bad. I cried for days. I thought you’d never talk to me again. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t turned it down. Your surfing’s getting better all the time while mine’s stagnating, but if I went there I’d have to leave home earlier, get home later, and you know me, I just like walking to school, seeing Dad when I get home, surfing the local – good ol’ home girl.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Marlee smiled, resigned. ‘You sure are. Doesn’t go with our plan for the World Circuit though.’ Marlee licked the hot spoon and then held it under her bottom lip. ‘There’s no short cut through the training and you can’t come home every night.’

  Tilly collected their cups, nudging Marlee with her hip. ‘Don’t write me off yet, Marlee girl. I might be hard to budge but we made an oath – drops of blood are in the book, remember. I don’t take that kind of stuff lightly. Just watch me. I’ll surprise you yet.’

  After a couple of days at the School, the jobs formed a pattern: bookings, payments, set up, help students, pack up. During the quiet moments Tilly broke the jobs down into areas: Marlee and Fran set up, Pink cleaned equipment and helped the kids, while Tilly concentrated on bookings and payments.

  When the latest class had gathered their gear and headed along the beach towards Shane, Tilly plopped onto the car seat that was shoved up against the wall, taking a minute to text Sam at the hospital.

  ‘Hello.’

  She hadn’t noticed the well-dressed woman standing at the back of the group.

  ‘Hello,’ the woman said again, tiptoeing towards Tilly, trying to keep her neatly pressed trousers out of the sand.

  The woman was the colour of honey: dark honey hair, creamed honey blouse, golden honey skin and a bright smile.

  ‘Is Phil here?’ As she glanced past Tilly, her smile faded slightly and Tilly followed her gaze, seeing the School through a stranger’s eyes for the first time – grey concrete walls, a shabby line-up of blistered, chipped boards, wetsuits that hung limp like bloated bodies and a floor permanently covered in wet sand.

  Tilly picked up a broom and began sweeping the floor. ‘Not right now, but can I help you? I’m Tilly, Phil’s daughter.’

  The woman passed her business card over. ‘I’m Barb Cook from Corporate Training. I’ve got an appointment with Phil to discuss classes for corporations – team building kind of stuff.’ Tilly looked blank and the woman laughed. ‘You know, an “outside the square” kind of thing for the average office animal.’ She hooked her fingers around the words as she spoke.

  ‘I get the corporate team building thing. It was the appointment bit I didn’t get,’ Tilly joked. ‘I didn’t know Phil ever made appointments.’

  The woman laughed and relaxed a little, scanning the beach. ‘You certainly have the best office location I’ve ever seen. Phil told me I should come and see it for myself.’

  But Tilly wasn’t looking at the view. She was still looking inside the School, thinking how badly prepared they were for a corporate-type group.

  ‘Do you have a brochure?’ Barb asked.

  ‘Brochure,’ Tilly repeated, thinking quickly. ‘They’re at the printers but I can send you some next week. You say you had an appointment with Phil, Ms Cook?’

  ‘Please, call me Barb and, yes, we did make an appointment, and Phil seemed to be totally across the concept.’ Her smile was warm and Tilly grinned. ‘He’s a good salesman; almost had me booking classes on the phone, but I thought I’d like to meet him in person – come and see the set-up first, maybe discuss the classes over lunch. Will he be back soon?’

  ‘No. He’s not feeling well,’ Tilly said, then added quickly. ‘He sends his apologies.’

  Barb looked disappointed. She stepped closer to Tilly, concerned. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Is he okay?’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ said Tilly, sounding more confident than she felt.

  ‘Well, that’s a shame,’ said Barb, letting her trouser hems drop into the sand. ‘About lunch, I mean,’ she added hastily. ‘I’d been looking forward to meeting him. He seems quite a character, your dad.’ She shoved her shoes into her bag and scanned the beach, then turned back to Tilly with a quick smile.
‘Well, I’ve got a bit of free time now so may as well walk back to the car along the beach. Tell your dad I hope he’s well soon and to give me a call as soon as he can.’

  ‘I will. Thanks,’ Tilly said, wondering if the visit was personal or professional. ‘I’ll send you a brochure, too.’ Tilly smiled sweetly, watching Barb struggle through the sand. I’m totally on to you, she thought. You don’t get my dad that easy.

  Marlee threw her hands up in frustration. ‘Why didn’t you just tell her that Phil was in hospital?’

  ‘I didn’t want to blow it. If I can get something together she still might go for it.’

  Marlee shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Did you see her face when she looked inside the “office”?’ Marlee hooked her fingers around the word, mimicking Barb Cook.

  ‘Well,’ Tilly admitted, ‘she has a point. It is totally grotty.’

  ‘Nothing a bit of colour couldn’t fix,’ said Fran walking through the door and throwing her bag into a locker.

  ‘And no reason we can’t start using the new boards. They’re all in the garage.’ Tilly jotted a few notes in the reservations book. ‘Unbelievable.’ She flicked through the pages. ‘Dad’s got notes scribbled everywhere. He needs a database like we have in Business Studies to sort them all out. You know what, I’m going to do that for him – the database and tidy up the office. When Dad gets back he won’t recognise the place.’

  ‘I don’t know much about business but I can help with the painting,’ Marlee offered.

  Fran smiled. ‘And I can pick the paint colours.’

  A mulch of untouched food lay on Phil’s tray. Tilly extracted a soggy chip from the congealed gravy. Marlee dived in then too, picking up a couple of chips, and Phil smiled.

  ‘Hungry?’

  He pushed the plate towards them, leaning back against the pillows.

  Tilly nodded and reached for another handful. ‘I missed lunch.’

  ‘Yeah, well you don’t want to do that too often if you’re in training. Look at you, you could both do with a decent meal. How’s the training going?’ There was a long pause. Phil opened one eye, swinging his neck slowly to look at Tilly, then Marlee, and back to Tilly. ‘It’s gone awfully quiet.’

  Tilly squirmed, her face red. ‘Not doing much at the moment,’ she said finally, not looking at Marlee.

  ‘So what are you doing for meals, Tilly?’ Phil asked.

  ‘Hmmm, pizza mostly. I’ve tried to cook a couple of things but as soon as I get a pan out of the cupboard it all starts to go wrong.’

  Phil chuckled quietly. ‘We never were much good as cooks in our family. Argggh …’ He grimaced as Tilly sprang up off the bed, making it wobble as she reached for the camera. ‘Tilly, sit still will you.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, looking at the sheen of perspiration across his brow. ‘Just thought I’d get a photo for the web page.’

  Phil closed his eyes, rubbing the greying prickles on his chin. ‘Not today. How about tomorrow morning. I’m better in the mornings.’

  ‘I help Shane in the mornings,’ Tilly said. ‘It’s busy at the School.’

  ‘He told me that. Thanks for helping.’ He looked at Marlee. ‘You too, Marls,’ then closed his eyes again.

  Tilly ran her hand through Phil’s hair. ‘Any idea when you’re coming home, Dad?’

  ‘Not until they get this thing off.’ He waved his arm connected to the IV drip. ‘And when I’ve done a bit of physio so they know I can get around. But when I do, girls, look out. We’ll start planning our next surf trip then, okay?’

  Marlee finished off the last of the chips and poked a finger in the congealing gravy. She pulled a face. ‘Blah, how can you eat that?’ She held a homemade and photocopied flyer up to Phil. ‘I made up some flyers to see if anyone knows anything about the accident and dropped them off on my pamphlet run. The police said they’ve had a couple of calls already.’

  Phil smiled gratefully, his eyes still closed. ‘Is that right? Thanks, Marlee.’ He felt across the sheets for her arm and gave it a weak squeeze.

  ‘And the local paper’s been running stories too, Dad. Someone out there knows something. I’m sure of it,’ Tilly added. ‘Dad?’ She leaned forward. Phil’s breathing was low and steady. ‘He’s asleep again.’ She kissed his cheek and said to Marlee, ‘Have you got it?’

  Marlee unrolled the Surf School poster and together they attached it to the wall behind Phil’s bed.

  ‘C’mon,’ Tilly said, ‘let’s get out of here.’

  The bus home was empty and Marlee and Tilly took over the back section, putting their feet up on the seats, windows opened wide.

  ‘He’s going to be there for ages. He looks bad doesn’t he?’ Tilly searched Marlee’s face for some reassurance that she was wrong, but Marlee didn’t know how to answer. In all the years she’d known Phil he’d been fit and full of energy, driving them up the coast to surf, running the School. Seeing him pale and limp made her want to cry but she pushed herself to say something positive.

  ‘He’s doing really well. The doctors said that themselves. He’s just tired and like he says, the afternoons aren’t his best time. Let’s go back in the morning.’

  ‘Can’t. We’re fully booked tomorrow.’

  ‘Why don’t I help with the classes? I’ve got my first aid certificate, surf-lifesaving training and my swim badges, and I know the warm-up exercises. I can do the warm-ups, that’ll give Shane more time, then I can help him in the surf with the actual lessons.’

  ‘Sure,’ Tilly looked pleased. ‘But let me talk to Shane first.

  Maybe you could start on the littlies class later in the week?’

  Marlee punched the air. ‘That’d be great.’

  The wind whipped foam tops off the waves, sent umbrellas cartwheeling along the beach and sand stung the children’s legs so they jumped and squealed, trying to outdo each other. Marlee loved the littlies class. It was always the most fun. The kids wriggled and giggled as Pink painted sunscreen across their noses, dishing out tickles when they weren’t looking. Lined up, they resembled a squealing caterpillar of excitement and Marlee thought back to her first surf classes with Tilly, Pink and Fran.

  ‘Marlee, Pani and Kyle, can you take the littlies down to the tiny shore break?’ Tilly asked.

  Marlee’s face clouded over as Kyle put his arm up. ‘Let’s get a line happening here.’

  The kids stomped in the sand, forming a wiggly line in front of Kyle, breaking formation with each stinging gust of wind.

  Marlee glanced at Tilly trying to hide her disappointment. This was her gig. She and Tilly had discussed it.

  There was a desperate appeal on Tilly’s face. ‘Sorry, Marlee. It’s a full class and there’s a big surf. I really need all three of you there.’

  Marlee nodded but couldn’t meet Tilly’s eyes. ‘Sure.’ As she brushed past Kyle, she added crossly, ‘But this is my class. Be useful or be quiet.’

  Marlee jogged down to the water, finding a suitable spot and waved the kids towards her. This was her first time doing the warm-up and she wanted to get it right but Kyle had other ideas. He took off down the beach towards her followed by a wild line of over-excited children. He ran them in a wide circle, then back into a line. Then he stopped suddenly and the kids piled into the back of him, giggling and shrieking as boards and bodies flew in all directions. The more the wind blew, the louder they shrieked and Marlee marvelled at how such a racket could come out of these tiny bodies.

  But there’s only one thing worse than a pack of eight year olds on a windy day – a hyper two year old in a sixteen-year-old boy’s body. Kyle circled the kids, trying to get them to form a group around Marlee.

  ‘Okay,’ she yelled over the wind, ‘let’s warm up.’ She stretched her arm behind her back, catching it with the other hand. The kids copied as best they could with Kyle moving from child to child, correcting their stretch, giving them headlocks, hamming up Marlee’s stretches but stopping whenever she turned around, so the kids
laughed even more. Marlee felt like the straight guy in a pantomime act and scowled at Fran who was laughing too.

  Kyle yelled, ‘Let’s go!’ He picked up his board and raced to the water, followed by a screaming tribe of eight year olds. Fran brushed the sand off her knees and caught up with Marlee.

  ‘Spot the kid,’ Marlee said, glaring at Kyle. ‘He makes me feel like the parent. I hate that.’

  As Kyle hit the water, four kids climbed onto his board, hung around his neck and jumped off into the waves. Kyle lined a couple of kids up on boards, pushing them into the small shore break. Fran smiled. ‘At least he’s making it fun. It’s far too rough for them to do much else.’

  A little girl squealed loudly, lifting her board, tongue stuck out in concentration as she manoeuvred it back to the water. Kyle scooped her up and tossed her into the wave. It could have been the world’s biggest roller coaster judging by her scream. The sound cut above the waves, uninhibited and packed with a joy that made Marlee feel like she was eight again, being thrown over the wave by her dad, the higher the better, over and over until the sun set and she had to be coaxed out of the water. She felt sure Kyle was thinking the same thing and when he grinned at her she grinned back.

  ‘Lighten up,’ she told herself, forgiving him a little, then ran down to the water to help him out.

  Tilly arrived near the end of class with the School’s new camera to take photos as the kids played in the surf, knelt on their boards, wrapped themselves around Kyle, stood next to Marlee. Finally she nodded to Marlee.

  ‘Time to come out,’ Marlee called reluctantly. ‘You can all come back tomorrow.’

  The wind blew harder and they retreated to the warm, calm side of the club house working hungrily through the pile of sandwiches Tilly had bought. She passed the camera around, showing photos of sandy bottoms, half a nose, a tongue poking out and one or two of a child standing on a board, their arms out wide, eyes bulging, mouth always open.

  ‘I didn’t think it was possible to take an out-of-focus shot with a digital,’ said Fran.