Page 24

‘By controlling the controllables. I practise every day: my balance, the manoeuvres, reading what I can of the water. I’m always learning, often falling.

That’s how surfing goes. You can’t be the best at surfing, only the best that day on that wave in that moment.

You never know how it’s going to go. That’s part of the thrill. ’

I tear my eyes from him to look back out at the rippling blue water.

‘Without that sense of fear, you wouldn’t get the same adrenaline when you catch a wave,’ he continues.

‘When you surf, you have to give in to the movement of the water. That’s a huge part of surfing: letting go.

You can’t fight against it; you let the water carry you with it as it travels.

It’s like nothing else, that feeling: a real rush.

It’s addictive. Once you’ve experienced it, you won’t forget it. You want more.’

‘You make it sound… spiritual,’ I murmur.

‘It is. Bet you’re wishing you had your phone recording now.’

‘You have no idea.’ I swallow. ‘Leo, I’ve never been good at letting go.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me, London,’ he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

‘I read this cool thing once that I reckon might help. Something like, “There’s a freedom found in forgetting to stop and wait at the edge of a ridge, peering down at what’s to come – instead, you keep going, fully present in the moment, conquering and falling all at once.

”’ He hesitates. ‘I may have got some of the words wrong.’

Closing my eyes, I break into a smile. ‘You got most of them right.’

‘I’ve never quoted a line to its author before.’

‘I’ve never been quoted before.’

‘Now that does surprise me,’ he says. ‘That ski article really was something. I hope the surf one will measure up. Guess a lot of that is down to me.’

My eyes flash open as a fresh rush of determination runs through my body.

Swivelling to face him, I clench my fists, taking a deep breath. ‘Leo, I need to tell you something. Something… personal. But I think you need to know.’

‘Okay.’

‘When I was fourteen, I was on holiday in Cornwall with my family. We used to go there a lot in the summer and we’d go with family friends, so there was a crew of kids my age. We used to hang out a lot, chill at the beach, swim in the sea. I was a strong swimmer; I loved it.’

I take a moment to steel myself in telling the story, but Leo doesn’t flinch. He waits patiently.

‘I… I was trying to impress this guy. There was this dare to swim out to the furthest buoy and swim back. No one wanted to go out that far. The sea wasn’t calm, we shouldn’t have even considered it. But we were idiots, and it turned out I was the biggest one.’

A muscle in his jaw twitches. He knows what’s coming, but he waits for me to tell it.

‘I thought I could do it. I was the best swimmer in the group. I ignored the warnings and I went out and I kept going. But I got into trouble.’ It’s hard to get the words out as a lump rises in my throat, the memory seeping into my head.

‘I don’t remember exactly what happened, but I remember being dragged under and that feeling of powerlessness.

I couldn’t breathe, I wasn’t sure which way was up, it was disorientating and terrifying and so… dark and quiet and…’

I have to stop for a moment to gulp in some air, my mind racing. I press a hand against my heart as it pounds heavily.

‘Hey, it’s okay,’ Leo says in barely more than a whisper. ‘Deep breaths.’

When I look in his eyes, I notice something different about them – a tenderness that wasn’t there before. I’m determined to finish. It’s the only way I have a chance of moving on from this, so I keep going with my story, no matter how much my chest aches.

‘I thought I was going to die there alone, swallowed up into nothingness. Obviously, you can see that everything turned out fine.’ I attempt a nervous smile, lifting a shaky hand to push my hair back from my face.

‘I managed to come up for air and the lifeguard came out to help me back, but since then I… I haven’t been able to go in the sea.

I look out there and,’ I gesture at the water, ‘all I feel is panic. The same panic I felt then.’

I drop my head.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the story sink in.

‘Thank you for telling me,’ he says eventually in a tone that I’m not sure I’ve heard him use before: low and protective. ‘I’m sorry that happened to you. Iris, you don’t have to go in the water. Just by being here, you’ve done brilliantly already.’

‘No, that’s not… that’s not why I told you that,’ I say, bringing my eyes up to meet his. ‘I want to try. I want to find a way of going in the water again. I just don’t know how.’

He nods, putting his hands on his hips and squinting out at the ocean with a pensive expression while I catch my breath.

‘You think I’m a hopeless case?’ I ask, nudging the board on the sand with my toe.

‘No,’ he says firmly without a moment’s hesitation. ‘I think we go about this differently, that’s all.’

‘How?’

‘First, we re-introduce you to the water. Then when you feel a little more confident, we see how you feel about getting on the board. One step at a time. Sound good?’

I nod.

He holds out his hand.

I stare at it. ‘What?’

‘Take my hand,’ he says gently.

‘Why?’

‘I’m going to lead you into the water.’

‘You won’t pull me in,’ I say, folding my arms across my chest and tucking my hands away, the panic rising up my throat once again. ‘Or throw me in there.’

He shakes his head. ‘We’ll go in together, we’ll focus on our breathing, and we’ll just put one foot in front of the other. The water is calm today; it’s a good place to start. Hey, London, look at me.’

My breathing has quickened, and he’s ducked his head to come down to my level. I force myself to bring my eyes up to his.

‘I won’t let you go unless you ask me to,’ he tells me.

I swallow. ‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

I slide my hand into his, instantly finding comfort in his warm grasp.

His hand is much bigger and stronger than mine, gripping it tightly, promising security and safety.

He’s over-emphasising his breathing for my benefit, encouraging me to copy his deep breath in and long breath out.

As I fall into the same rhythm, he gives me a small nod and edges forward with one foot.

I do the same, slowly and carefully moving towards the water.

When the cold water first laps over the skin of my foot, my breath catches.

Leo can sense my hesitation and his hand squeezes mine, reminding me that he’s right here with me. Focusing on him and keeping my breathing as steady as possible, I let him lead me further into the water, feeling the water swirl around my ankles and slowly edge up my legs with every step forward.

As we get deeper, the resistance of the water grows, slowing us down, and it’s harder for me to keep calm as the break of the wave hits against my thighs. But I’ve come this far. That in itself drives me onwards, looking back to see how far I’ve come.

I don’t even realise I’m smiling until I hear his chuckle carry in the light breeze.

‘Feels good doesn’t it?’ he says. ‘Realising what you’re capable of.’

I nod, unable to express what I’m feeling right now: relief, elation and fear all at once.

‘You want to try having a little swim?’ he asks lightly.

‘That would mean letting go of your hand,’ I point out nervously.

‘Yes,’ he says, ‘but I’ll stay within reach.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise. And I won’t let go until you ask me to.’

It takes a good few moments for me to build up the courage to give him the go-ahead and free my hand from his.

He keeps his hovering near mine until I’ve fully pulled away and then waits patiently for me to lower myself into the sea.

I wasn’t lying when I told him that I used to be a strong swimmer; I was good at it and I loved it too, that feeling of weightlessness as you move through water, the way it stretches out your body and works your muscles.

I don’t expect to simply plonk myself into the sea and return to the confident swimmer I once was, but my body hasn’t forgotten.

The instinct kicks in, I want to swim to keep warm in the chill of the water as it soaks my wetsuit despite the fear running through my veins and how a small, panicked voice in my head is crying out in protest, begging me to put my feet back on solid ground.

But Leo is there, right beside me, talking to me the whole time, reminding me I’m not alone.

‘Bet this beats the lidos you’ve got back home, London,’ he’s saying, floating along nearby. ‘How are you feeling? You good?’

‘Yeah,’ I say, my blood pumping through my body as I swim back towards shore, before I stand up in waist-height water, clutching my heart, unable to believe it.

He’s there at my side as I stand.

A grin breaks across my face, my breathing heavy as I try to wrap my head around what I’ve done. I reach out to take his hands in mine, still not entirely confident. ‘Leo… I can’t believe it. I can’t… Thank you. Thank you for today.’

‘The lesson doesn’t need to finish yet if you don’t want it to,’ he says, his eyes twinkling, keeping one hand clasping mine as he slowly leads me ashore. ‘You know what feels even better than swimming?’ He points at my surfboard, waiting for me on the sand. ‘What do you think?’ he asks.

‘I think… I think I could go for a paddle,’ I say breathlessly.

‘Yeah,’ he grins, his hand still holding mine as though he’s forgotten to let go. ‘Me too.’