Storms

As she watched, she wondered about Hawaii and the weeks between now and then. About the boy, Jake. Which was crazy. She didn’t know if they’d have breakfast, let alone a relationship.

But somehow … she did know. They would have breakfast. They would see each other again. She wasn’t kidding herself. This was quick, but real.

She wondered what Dad would make of him.

Jake (#u144a9bc1-6c85-54b0-9e9d-e64db0dfcb9d)

HE LIKED THIS. The girl sitting on the beach, him surfing the high-tide breakers.

The waves were big enough for him to chuck the board about. But not so big he’d get punished for it.

He pulled tricks: sharp bottom turns, up the wave, smack the board off the lip, drop back down into the power pocket. Up: float over the white crest, run back on the green. Pump the board for speed. Tuck in a tiny barrel as the wave closed on shore.

He took a bigger one, got some speed till the wave was almost closing, launched off the top and spun in the air, then tried to stick the board back into the wave. It was crazy to try a 360. He needed onshore wind that wasn’t there. He nose-dived the board in a foot of water, somersaulted and head-butted the sand.

He stood, spinning.

The girl – Hannah – laughed. Jake spat sand. He regretted making a tit of himself. Hannah stopped laughing and gave a sympathetic ‘argh’, then clapped and whistled. Her eyes were smiling. She wasn’t taking the piss.

‘I don’t know much about surfing,’ she said, ‘but that looked great.’

‘Even the wipe-out?’ he said, and winked. He walked up, leant over – careful not to drip on her – and kissed her.

She stood up.

‘My dad says you’ve got to fail and fall. And then get up again. In order to learn.’

‘A surfer is he?’ said Jake.

‘More of a yachtee.’

He put the board down. She opened the blanket and closed it round them both.

‘I’m soaking wet,’ he said.

She pushed against him and the warmth of her was like an unmade bed. Her hair was messed, her eyes raw and sleepy.

God. She was beautiful.

Her lips met his. Her tongue too. She tasted of toothpaste.

He wanted her. She writhed a little under the blanket, feeling him there. She unlocked her lips from his and leant back, meaning: Enough. For now.

He picked up his board.

‘So. What happens next?’ she said.

Did she mean right this second, or something else?

‘Um, breakfast?’ he said.

Hannah looked up at the blue-filling sky.

‘What time is it?’

‘Early. Won’t be anywhere open yet. Goof might have brekky stuff. Coffee leastways.’

She frowned. Her perma-smile dissolved.

‘I need to get a signal. Send some texts. I wasn’t exactly meant to be out all night.’

‘Where you supposed to be?’

‘Phoebe’s. In her spare room. It’s no biggy. Just parents, you know. They’ll want to know I’m okay.’

‘What will you tell them?’

‘That I’m at Phoebe’s. They’d freak if they thought I was out all night. With some boy. Who they don’t know. That’s three big bads. Besides …’ She frowned, and acted a gruff voice, ‘… Pete Lancaster’s daughter doesn’t sleep on a beach.’

‘Hannah … Lancaster. Goofy does stuff for your dad …’ It all clicked inside Jake’s head. ‘Pete Lancaster’s your dad?’

‘Yes. Is that … er, okay?’

‘Of course. I’m just … well. He’s a big cheese around here. He’s got a … rep, you know?’ Jake couldn’t find the words. Not honest ones. He’d never met the guy. But he knew plenty who had. And there was the time Lancaster had tried to buy their cottage off their landlord. That had been ugly. Too ugly to tell Hannah about right now.

‘He’ll want to know I’m okay,’ she said. ‘If I can get a message or two out, we can, you know, spend some time together? … If you’re not busy.’

‘Sure. I’d like that.’

Her smile came back. The sun, from behind a cloud.

They walked back to the dunes. Hannah sat on the bedding while Jake searched the sea of bodies.

Goofy was lying on his board bag. His jeans and pants were halfway down his bum, his mouth wide open and snuffle-snoring.

‘What a sight,’ said Jake. He picked up a seagull feather and wedged it down Goofy’s butt-crack.

‘Gerroff,’ Goofy slurred. ‘You’ve got your wetty on. You’ve been surfing and you didn’t wake me. Bastard. How is it?’

‘Decent. It’s got a bit of—’

‘N’er mind. What happened with you and that Hannah? Vanished, you did.’

‘She’s sat over there.’

Goofy looked over, and nodded his approval. ‘You be nice to this one, you hear?’

‘I’m always nice.’