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When he messages to say he’s not going to make the interview while I’m sitting waiting for him at Marina’s Bar on Wednesday afternoon, I’m not surprised.

Am I pissed off? Yes.

Do I think he’s a selfish jerk who wants to make this as difficult as possible? Yes.

But am I surprised? No.

At least this time he’d had the decency to let me know he wasn’t going to come; he had my number because I messaged him this morning confirming our appointment.

He didn’t reply to that, but hey, he’s messaged.

A marked improvement from yesterday. Maybe next time, he’ll make even more progress and cancel before we’re supposed to be meeting.

God. What an arsehole.

I’ve dealt with athletes reluctant or nervous to talk to me, but it’s the first time I’ve been stood up. It’s not very nice.

I stare at his message, trying to work out my next move.

‘Marina,’ I call out while she’s wiping the table of someone who’s just left, ‘could I switch my order from an iced tea to a white wine again please?’

‘Next time you come, I’m going to get you a white wine no matter what you order.’

‘You already know me very well.’

She bursts out laughing and I return my attention to my phone.

Steeling myself, I start typing.

No problem. We could do tomorrow instead?

Blue ticks. He’s typing back straight away. That’s got to be a good sign.

Maybe. I’ll let you know.

I roll my eyes. Fucking hell, he’s so annoying. I know what he’s doing. He knows when my flight is booked back to London and that I have a limited amount of time here. He’s going to keep putting things off until the last minute so everything will be a big rush.

But I won’t let him win. For now, I have to keep my cool.

Great, thank you. If you’re busy surfing, it would be great if I join? Just to observe your training. I wouldn’t get in the way

Grey ticks. And now he’s offline.

Fuck.

‘Boy trouble?’ Marina asks, setting the glass down in front of me and putting her hands on her hips.

‘Leo can’t make our interview.’

‘That’s why I said “boy” and not “man”,’ she tells me with a wry smile. ‘He can act like a spoilt child sometimes.’

‘He wants me to give up and leave, but I won’t.’

‘I know that. I could tell when we met that you were a woman who gets shit done.’

I break into a smile. ‘You’re very observant, Marina.’

‘How are you liking Burgau?’ she asks, gesturing out to the beach. ‘I know the weather is not as good at this time of year, but I personally prefer it in the down season. Not for my business obviously,’ she nods to the empty tables, ‘but the town itself is quieter. More relaxed.’

‘So far, I love it,’ I reply earnestly. ‘I’ve been exploring today and there’s such a nice atmosphere here. The village is so beautiful, there’s great coffee, great food—’

‘Great people,’ she tags on.

‘And yes, that.’ I grin at her. ‘I’d like to come back in the summer when all the bars and restaurants are open, but you’re right, it’s nice when it’s quiet. It suits the setting. I’m not a beach person, so I wouldn’t be lounging around in the sun or swimming in the sea anyway.’

She raises her eyebrows. ‘Not a beach person. No wonder Leo is upset with you.’

‘He doesn’t like me because of my job,’ I sigh, throwing my hand up in exasperation. ‘In his head, I represent the entire British press.’

She watches me curiously as I drink my wine. ‘I said he was upset with you; I didn’t say he doesn’t like you.’

‘It’s okay, Marina, my feelings aren’t hurt,’ I assure her. ‘I’m used to it. It comes hand in hand with this kind of work. Certain journalists give the rest a bad name; my best friend is with a tennis pro and he has told me exactly what he thinks about reporters. Obviously, I’m an exception.’

‘Obviously.’

‘If Leo would give me a chance then maybe he’d agree. I’m on his side. This article is about his big comeback and how exciting that is. I’m not here to make him look bad. I’m here to… I don’t know…’ I throw my hands up in the air ‘…be inspired?’

She nods pensively.

‘Sorry,’ I mutter, taking another sip of my drink. ‘I don’t mean to rant.’

‘It’s okay,’ she assures me. ‘I know what he’s like. He’s stubborn.’

Glancing over her shoulder to check she’s not needed, she quickly pulls out the chair next to mine and perches on the edge of it.

‘He is also scared,’ she says simply, her seriousness prompting me to lower my glass to show I’m listening properly.

‘People like Leo don’t like to let others in.

He’s mistrusting at first, guarded – but once you get to know him, he’s sweet and easy-going.

He knows his mum wants this and I think he does want to help.

But now you’re here and maybe… maybe you surprised him. ’

‘You think I came in too strong?’

‘No. What I mean is, it’s obvious you can’t be fooled.’

I sit back in my chair. ‘What was he expecting? A journalist who would accept a couple of soundbites and hop on a plane back to London?’

She shrugs. ‘Maybe. He hadn’t even told me about the interview. I think he was trying to convince himself it wasn’t a big deal.’

‘Then I show up and freak him out completely. Okay, so what do I do?’ I ask, frowning at her. ‘How do I get him to trust me?’

‘That I can’t help with, mainly because I have no idea whether he can trust you myself.

We only just met.’ She smiles mischievously at me, jumping to her feet and tucking her chair in.

‘But I can help in giving us the opportunity to get to know you. My girlfriend’s birthday is this weekend and I’m throwing a party here Saturday.

You want to come? It would be nice to have some new blood. ’

‘Really? Yeah! I’d love to,’ I say warmly. ‘Thanks.’

‘Leo will be there,’ she assures me. ‘He’s said he’ll show up at some point.’

‘From my experience, I’m not sure that means much,’ I warn, gesturing to the empty chair on the other side of the table.

She waggles her finger at me. ‘See? You’re wrong there. If Leo says he’ll show up, he’ll show up.’

‘Not today.’

‘When it matters.’

‘Marina,’ I sigh, leaning forward on the table and looking up at her, ‘that’s the Leo I’m desperate to meet. That’s the one I want to write about. I’m writing this feature whether he talks to me or not, and right now, the Leo Silva that’s going to appear in it isn’t that great.’

‘I’m not going to persuade him to talk to you, Iris,’ she says sternly. ‘All I want to do is make your stay a little more comfortable.’

‘Well, you’re definitely succeeding there,’ I tell her gratefully, tipping my glass at her. ‘And I get that you can’t help me with him. It’s frustrating, that’s all. I want to do him justice. I don’t believe that he’s a lone wolf, or whatever he was going on about yesterday.’

She looks confused. ‘Lone wolf?’

‘Apparently, surfers don’t need anyone but themselves,’ I mutter. ‘He’s out there alone and that’s it. But I’ve followed sport all my life, and I know that that’s not how it goes. Nobody gets that far alone, not really.’

Marina watches as I knock back the last of my drink and then she takes a deep breath.

‘Have you been to the surf shop yet?’ she asks.

‘No, not yet.’

‘I think you should go. You should go to the surf shop.’

‘Leo finished at four; he won’t be there.’

‘I know, but still, you should go.’

I look at her strangely. She stares me down.

‘The surf shop,’ I repeat, pushing my chair back and getting to my feet.

‘You might find what you’re looking for there.’

‘Thanks Marina,’ I say, grabbing my bag and phone.

‘Nothing to thank me for. I always recommend Adriano’s surf shop to tourists,’ she says with a shrug, sauntering away. ‘It’s not far from here. You should get there in time before it shuts.’

*

The bell above the door rings as I push it open and step into the surf shop and school.

It’s a small, white, unassuming building down a narrow street close to the beach front, and according to the sign at the front, it closes in half an hour. The shop is silent and empty.

‘Hello?’ I call out.

No one responds.

Wandering towards the back, I run my eyes along the four framed charcoal sketches on the wall: drawings of surfers riding waves. I realise that a similar one hangs in Marina’s Bar too. Must be a local artist.

‘Hello, can I help you?’ A man’s voice says behind me, making me jump.

‘Hi!’ I smile, turning round to see an older gentleman emerging from the back room and coming to stand by the counter. He looks familiar but I can’t place him. ‘I… Marina recommended I come here. I’m Iris.’

‘Yes, the journalist from London.’

My heart sinks. ‘Ah. I take it Leo has told you about me.’

‘He mentioned you.’

‘Oh dear.’ I grimace, before holding out my hand for him to shake. ‘You are…?’

‘Adriano.’ He smiles, taking my hand. ‘Leo’s father.’

I inhale sharply, my fingers still grasping his.

He chuckles, patting the top of my hand before releasing it and turning away to go back to the counter. ‘He hasn’t told you about me , then. Welcome to my shop, Iris.’

‘I… sorry, I knew you lived in the area but he didn’t say you owned the shop where he worked,’ I explain hurriedly.

Now I know why he seems familiar. He was on the beach watching Leo surf yesterday morning. Why didn’t I think that’s who he could be?!

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Silva,’ I repeat, moving over to the counter where he’s now putting on some glasses to read the till screen. ‘I should have known this was your shop and that Leo worked for you.’

‘I’m working for him, too,’ he tells me without looking up.

‘Leo was insistent that he is an employee here at the shop and surf school you run.’

‘Yes, he works for me in here, but out there,’ he gestures in the direction of the beach, ‘I work for him. I’m Leo’s surfing coach.’

I blink at him. ‘You’re his coach.’

‘Yes.’ He lifts his eyes up to meet mine. ‘It’s a recently appointed position.’

‘I see. I was under the impression that he didn’t have a coach. That he was… alone.’

‘Surfers are never alone,’ he says coolly. ‘And certainly not my Leo.’

‘Nice to know I’m right about something,’ I murmur, glancing around the shop. When I return my attention to him, I notice he’s still watching me. I plaster on a smile. ‘I know that this is a longshot, but is Leo here, Mr Silva?’

‘Adriano, please. No, he’s surfing.’

‘I didn’t see him out there.’

‘He doesn’t just surf here; he goes to several places along the coast,’ he explains. ‘He goes where he wants, wherever has the best waves.’

‘Do you think he’ll be back soon?’

He shakes his head. ‘He didn’t leave too long ago and he seemed… agitated. Was he meant to be meeting you?’

‘We can rearrange.’

‘Probably a good thing. He wasn’t so easy to talk to today,’ he says with a shrug. ‘He was angry at himself after our session this morning. He thinks he surfed badly.’

‘ Can you surf badly? You mean he fell a lot?’ I ask earnestly.

‘You can read the water wrong. Sometimes, you ignore your gut; sometimes, your instincts lead you awry. Leo puts a lot of pressure on himself to always be the best and that’s when he makes mistakes.

He should be out there for the love of it.

It’s my job to remind him of that when he gets inside his head. ’

‘And what’s it like? Coaching Leo?’

A knowing smile spreads across his face. ‘I can tell from the way that you ask that you haven’t seen the best side of him yet.’

Damn it . I’m usually good at masking my feelings about someone.

‘The most complex subjects tend to be the most interesting ones,’ I say coolly.

He laughs. ‘I like that. Complex, eh? A nice way of saying he’s been a shit to you.’

I grin at his bluntness. ‘He’s… nervous. How do you feel about him doing this feature?’

He leans an arm on the counter. ‘Are you asking me that as his coach or as his father?’

‘Depends on how you answer.’

He looks satisfied with my response. ‘I have read your other articles, Iris. You must be good at getting people to talk about themselves.’

‘It’s not that difficult. People like to talk about themselves.’

‘That is true.’

‘What about you? Would you be happy to talk about yourself and your son for the piece?’ I ask cheekily, going straight for my chance to secure him.

He takes a moment to consider my request.

‘Despite what Leo may have told you, I promise I haven’t come here to write an article that in any way upsets your family,’ I insist. ‘I just want to hear his story. Maybe you can help with that.’

Stroking his chin, he finally nods. ‘Yes, I am happy to talk to you. I’m very proud of Leo; he deserves a bit of good press.’

‘Great! When would it work for you to meet? Shall I come here tomorrow?’

He brushes the idea off with a wave of his hand. ‘No, no. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it properly. I shall take you to lunch at my favourite restaurant.’

‘No, Adriano,’ I say, beaming at him. ‘ Studio will take us to lunch.’

‘I won’t say no to that.’

‘Thank you.’ I pause, a question on the tip of my tongue but hesitant to push my luck.

‘Yes, Iris?’ he says, tilting his head at me and looking at me expectantly.

This guy really is good at reading people.

‘As his coach, would you be happy for me to observe some of his training sessions?’ I ask hopefully.

‘I don’t think Leo is going to be very forthcoming about when and where he’s surfing.

I don’t want to do anything to distract him of course, but this feature is centred on his big comeback.

I need to build in the work in the lead up to it. ’

‘I understand. Of course. I can let you know where we’re going to be and you are welcome to come watch him surf.’ He shrugs. ‘It’s not like you’re out there in the water with him, getting in the way.’

I shudder at the thought. ‘Exactly. Thank you, Adriano.’

After exchanging numbers and saying goodbye, I leave the shop in a completely different mood to when I walked in. I’m uplifted by his warmth and willingness to cooperate.

It finally feels like I’m getting somewhere.

Tonight, I’m taking myself out for dinner.