by Chloe Rayban
I lingered on the terrace. What I really wanted were some pictures of Ben, to show Migs and Louisa. I could impress them with the talent on my holiday if nothing else. He was down below on the beach messing around with the windsurfers. I homed in on him, focusing the camera so he looked really close. He was stripped to the waist and he had such a yummy body. These pictures were really going to put my rating up at school…
Mum came up behind me.
‘What are you taking?’
‘Nothing!’
‘That’s going to be interesting.’
‘I thought I saw some dolphins in the bay.’
‘Dolphins! Where?’
‘Quite a long way out…’
‘Oh damn and blast! Where are my glasses?’
I ranged the camera over the sea, peering through the lens. ‘But I think they’ve gone now.’
‘Did you got some shots of them?’
‘Umm… not sure.’
‘Are they still out there?’
‘No, they’ve definitely gone.’
‘Oh well, you can take some nice views of the bay to show Dad, anyway.’
I focused in on the shack.
There was a new sign today, chalked up on a board:
Windsurfing lessons
Instructor: Ben Bernard
Now that was a thought!
‘Mu-um?’
‘Mmm?’
‘How much money have we got left?’
‘Oh I don’t know…’ Mum yawned and settled down on a chair in the shade. ‘Why?’
‘I just wondered…’
‘Ye-es?’ (She obviously recognised my tone.)
‘Since this place is so much cheaper than the other place, we must have some money over.’
‘I don’t think I want to hear this.’
‘Yes you do – you know you’re always trying to get me to try new things?’
She raised her eyebrows and smiled at me. ‘Like kohlrabi?’
‘Well, kind of…’
‘Come on, out with it. What’ve you set your heart on this time?’
‘I just wondered whether the budget would stretch to a windsurfing lesson?’
Mum propped herself up on one elbow. ‘Windsurfing? Do I sense an “ulterior” here?’
‘No! You know I’ve always wanted to learn. And it would be much cheaper here than at the gravel pit back home.’
‘Well, I suppose that’s true.’
‘Thanks Mum!’
‘I haven’t said yes yet.’
‘But you’re going to, I can tell.’
‘Well, as long as it’s not too expensive. Check it out with Stavros. And don’t commit yourself to anything until you’ve agreed it with me – please!’
Stavros said a lesson was ten thousand drachmas. Which I calculated was really good value compared with back home.
I bought Mum an orange juice and took it to where she was sitting reading.
‘Ahh – I see you’ve brought a bribe. What’s the damage going to be?’
‘Ten thousand drachmas.’
‘Sounds extortionate!’
‘No, that’s under twenty pounds. It’s a real bargain.’
‘Is it?’
‘Please Mum. It’d be much more expensive back home. I’d have to hire a wetsuit and everything.’
‘OK, you’ve talked me into it.’
‘Thank you, thank you! Can I go and tell Stavros?’
Stavros was predictably delighted and ambled off to find Ben. I was glad I’d bought a swimsuit; much better than my bikini for windsurfing. I had a brand new white one with high-cut legs – made my legs look really long. A real windsurfing lesson – and with Ben as my instructor. I could see myself now, skimming across the water – and Ben shading his eyes, watching me from the shore, kind of amazed and impressed at the same time. And then maybe he’d surf out to join me – and we’d glide out over the water side by side…
Ben materialised at the top of the steps just as I was imagining him coming across the water, leaning towards me and our lips just touching…
‘I hear you want a lesson,’ he called out.
‘I’ll probably be hopeless.’
‘What time?’ he asked.
‘When it suits you.’
‘How about in half an hour? That’ll give me time to get a board set up.’
He swung round and I caught sight of his eye. It was all red and puffy – looked as if he’d been in a fight.
I moved closer. ‘What happened to your eye?’
‘Had a bit of a disgreement over the ownership of a certain possession,’ he said.
I stared at him in disbelief. The knife. The Albanian boy’s knife. Surely he couldn’t have had a fight with him? He was half Ben’s size.
‘That’s awful. Who with? What happened?’
‘It’s a long story, see you on the beach – OK?’
I stared after him as he loped down the steps in his usual way, two at a time. He seemed dead keen. I wondered if he got the money for the lesson or whether Stavros pocketed it. By all rights it should be the Albanian boy – Ari – who was working here right now. And the money would have gone to him. All those doubts flooded back into my mind again.
I went back to our room to change. Mum was standing holding my camera.
‘How do you work this zoom thing?’
‘You’re not going to take photos, are you?’
‘Why not? Could be a – historic moment. Your first windsurfing lesson.’
‘No – please. I’ll feel really self-conscious.’
‘Your dad’ll want to see this. Go on or you’ll be late.’
‘Well, if you must…’
Ben had the board out on the sand. He’d built a kind of mound and had it balanced on top.
‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Where do we start?’
‘Right here,’ he said, pointing at the board.
‘What? Not even in the water?’
‘It’s better this way. Step on and get the feel of it.’
This was a bit of a let-down, but I supposed he knew what he was doing.
It was really difficult to balance on the board. I thought I was doing quite well. But then Ben started wobbling it from side to side – there was no way anyone could be expected to stay on while he did that. I reckoned he was doing it on purpose.
I started to lose patience with him.
‘I’m sure I’d be much better on the water,’ I pointed out.
‘No, it’s better to master the basics on dry land.’
A few more wobbles and I landed hard on my bum on the sand. It really hurt. This wasn’t fair. I’d seen people windsurfing – they had a bar thing to hold on to. It must be a lot easier in the water. I reckoned he was just trying to make it as difficult as possible to prove how superior he was – you know the way boys do.
‘Oh, this is crazy. I’ve had enough. Let me try in the water.’
He put on this doubtful look, as if I was a hopeless case or something. ‘Well, if you really think you’re ready.’
‘Yes, I do as a matter of fact.’
‘Well, I don’t.’
‘Look it must be much easier when you’ve got that bar thing to hold on to.’
‘It’s called a wishbone. And it’s not easier. It’s much harder, as a matter of fact.’
‘It can’t be.’
‘It is. You have the wind to contend with as well.’
‘Well, I just know I’d feel more confident on the water.’
‘You wouldn’t, you know.’
‘You can’t know how I’d feel. I’m the one who should be able to judge if I’m ready or not.’
‘Well if you want to be like that. Go ahead, try. See for yourself.’
‘Thank you.’
He put the board in the water but he kept it tethered to the shore by a rope. It was really difficult to get on. Personally I think the board he’d chosen was extra slippery. I fell off three times before I even got to kneel on it. He just stood on
the shore, watching me as if I was the dumbest thing on two legs and telling me to stand up. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was practically impossible. I was barely on the board before he started going on about the wind direction. How was I meant to know which way the bloomin’ wind was coming from?
Then, just as I’d got upright and had the board kind of round the right way, he shouted out that my feet were in the wrong position so I wobbled and fell off again.
With difficulty I hauled myself on to the board again and managed to stand up straight in spite of my wobbling knees. He wasn’t even impressed. He just kept on shouting technical stuff about getting the rig into the lee of the wind, or something.
‘I am!’ I shouted back.
‘No you’re not. You’re about five degrees off.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘By the way the board’s acting. And you should be able to tell by the feel of it.’
‘OK, I’ve only just started – give me a chance.’
‘I am. Why don’t you come back on the shore like I suggested in the first place, and learn to keep your balance?’ (Oh, now he was being really condescending.)
‘Why don’t you just let me be?’ I shouted back. ‘I can’t concentrate with you criticising the whole time.’
‘I’m not criticising, I’m trying to teach you.’
(Bollocks!)
‘If you’ll just leave me alone, I know I’ll be able to do it,’ I said between gritted teeth.
‘Look Lucy…’ he started. He sounded just like Dad in one of his bad moods. It put me right off – I fell off backwards for around the twentieth time.
‘Don’t you “Look Lucy” me!’ I retorted.
‘Look, the thing is, I don’t think you’re really trying to do what I…’
‘Trying!’ (This just wasn’t fair.) ‘I don’t think you really know how to teach windsurfing,’ I shouted back to him.
‘How can I teach you, when you won’t listen?’
‘How can I learn when you’re telling me three different things at once?’
‘OK – have it your own way. I won’t say another word.’
He stood on the shore with his arms crossed, just willing me to fail. I could tell he was getting a real kick out of this.
With dignity, I climbed on to the board again. I carefully stretched up to my full height. Good. There you are – simple! I eased the board round until it was sideways to the wind. This was it. Any moment now I’d be away, skimming across the water. I was a natural. I hoped Mum was ready up on the terrace with the camera poised.
‘Right – cast the rope off. I’m ready,’ I announced.
‘No way!’
‘Let go!’ I insisted. If he didn’t let go of the rope it would stop me before I’d even started. The sail was coming up out of the water now – beautifully.
‘Oh Lucy, be realistic…’
What was he waiting for? The sail was billowing out in the wind.
‘Who’s paying for this lesson?’ I snarled.
‘Who’s giving this lesson?’ he replied. ‘Look, you haven’t got the faintest idea…’
‘Stop being so bloody superior,’ I shouted back.
‘Superior? Right! OK. Have it your own way – here goes.’
As the sail caught the breeze – bliss – I started to move. I cast a knowing look in his direction. Huh! I was right all along, you see.
SPLASH!
Water was filling my eyes and ears and rushing up my nose. I thought for a minute I was going to drown. I surfaced coughing and choking.
He was standing there laughing. He wasn’t the least bit repentant. He’d made me fall off. He’d kept hold of the rope. It had stopped the board in its tracks, just as I’d got under way. No wonder it had flung me off. And now I had weed – horrible green slimy yucky weed – dripping down all over me. Oh yes, very funny, I’m sure.
‘You did that on purpose.’
‘No I didn’t.’
‘You pulled on the rope. You must’ve done.’
‘No I did not!’
‘Liar!’
‘Look Lucy…’
I was wading out of the water now. A fine lesson this had turned out to be. I’d never felt so humiliated in all my life. I felt tears of anger starting up in my eyes. ‘You enjoyed every minute of that, didn’t you…?’
I thought I was due for an apology. But no… Instead, he ranted on about me doing everything wrong. Me! This was totally out of line. I just blew my top.
‘If you weren’t so bloody arrogant, you might be able to teach…’
‘If you weren’t so bloomin’ pig-headed you might be able to learn…’ he shouted. He was standing in the water now, fiddling with the board with his back to me.
‘Pig-headed! Who’s talking?’
‘Oh Jeesus – women!’
He strode out into the water and said in a really sarcastic way: ‘Come on. You can at least learn how to get the board out on to the shore.’
That really did it.
‘You can get the damn thing out of the water yourself,’ I said, and I left him to it.
Chapter Thirteen
I went back to the taverna fuming. If I’d had a decent instructor I’m sure I would’ve been OK. Ben had been putting me off right from the start. I reckon it was his way of proving his male superiority – how pathetic.
‘How did it go?’ asked Mum.
‘You were watching, you should know.’
‘Oh, don’t be like that Lucy – you can’t expect to be brilliant right from the start.’
‘As far as I’m concerned you can take all the windsurfers that have ever been made and build a giant bonfire and set light to them – and you can put Ben on top.’
‘It’d make an interesting alternative to Guy Fawkes.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Don’t sulk, darling.’
‘I’m not sulking. I wish you wouldn’t say that.’
‘Would you like a nice cool drink?’
‘Not if he’s serving it.’
‘Oh really – don’t be so childish.’
‘I’m going for a shower.’
‘Good idea – maybe you’ll feel better afterwards.’
‘I’m feeling absolutely fine, thank you.’
‘Good.’
The shower didn’t work. The water was off again. Typical! And it was broiling. It was the hottest day we’d had yet. I stomped back on to the terrace feeling really angry.
‘There’s no water.’
‘Oh well, I expect it’ll come back on later.’
I was feeling hot and cross. Ben would come up to the terrace any minute. I didn’t want to have to face him right now.
‘Let’s go somewhere else for lunch. Can’t we go to another beach?’
‘What, in this heat?’
‘It’s not that hot.’
‘Oh Lucy honestly. Don’t be such a pain.’
‘Pain! Pain! I’m only asking for a bit of variety for once. We’ve been stuck here for days.’
‘Look. I just want to finish my book and have a nice quiet siesta.’
‘You can be really boring and middle-aged sometimes.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Well I’m not staying. I’m going to the next beach where there’s some life.’
‘On your own?’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, I don’t know. I suppose you could go on the bus.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I’ll give you some money for lunch and you can get some more factor ten, we’re almost out. And we need another film for the camera and you could see if you can find a recent newspaper…’
‘Anything else? I’ll have to dash – the one o’clock bus is due soon.’
‘Oh, and Lucy – don’t go out in the sun before three, will you?’
‘Don’t fuss!’
It was a relief to get away from the Paradisos. It was a relief to get away from everyone. Talk about claustrophobic! No wonder we were all getting
on each other’s nerves.
When I arrived at the next beach it was like another world. Civilisation! The people sitting at the pavement cafés were wearing clothes with a bit of style to them. One of the cafés was even serving cappuccino. And there were proper beach loungers and parasols for hire. I walked along the front looking in the shops.
I did all Mum’s chores – even found a one-day-old Times for her. Then I considered lunch. A glance at the menus told me that all the restaurants were really pricey so I bought myself a sandwich and a Coke and decided to splurge the rest of the money on hiring a lounger.
I ignored Mum’s advice about the sun. She was really pathetic about sunbathing. Everyone on this beach was incredibly tanned – I felt really self-conscious being a mere kind of pale beige. At this rate I’d go home looking as if I hadn’t had a holiday at all. I’d put the afternoon to good use and remedy the situation.
I rubbed plenty of sun lotion on and stretched out on my lounger.
I spent a nice civilised afternoon, in comfort, watching all these hunky windsurfers sailing in the bay. They had amazing gear. I reckoned Ben was a bit of a loser. He only had one of Stavros’ funny old hired boards and he didn’t use a harness or anything. I bet it was easier windsurfing with a harness. I reckon if I’d had one this morning, it would’ve been a doddle.
Ben had been so arrogant. I could hear his voice now: ‘Oh Lucy, be realistic’. Huh! I turned over and forced myself to stay a full half-hour on my front. By tomorrow I was going to look so brown and so beautiful he wouldn’t know what had hit him!
Without Mum to interfere, I spent four whole hours out in the sun.
I was on my way back in the bus when my skin started to tingle. OK, maybe I’d overdone the sunbathing – but at least I’d have a tan to show for it when I was back at school. But by the time I reached the taverna my skin felt as if it was on fire. I stalked over the terrace, hoping not to meet Mum, and shot into our room. She wasn’t around. I stripped off and went into the bathroom and turned the cold tap on.
My body! I gazed down in horror. I was a horrible combination of strawberry and vanilla stripes. Steeling myself, I let cold water run down my body. ‘Yow!’ I didn’t actually sizzle, but pretty nearly.