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Standing on the beach of Sagres early the next morning, I watch as Leo waits patiently in the water to choose his wave.

When he eventually makes a decision, he begins to paddle forwards before popping up, gracefully etching lines across the curve of the wave with his board.

My mouth hangs open in awe at such skilled, confident surfing.

‘How does he know ?’ I find myself asking hoarsely.

‘Know what?’ Adriano asks next to me, eyes locked on his son’s performance.

‘That that was the wave to choose,’ I explain, gesturing out at Leo. ‘There were loads of waves before that one that looked good to me, so I didn’t understand what he was waiting for. But he was right to wait – that was the best wave so far.’

Adriano chuckles. ‘It’s like everything, Iris: practice. In a set of waves, you have to find the best one. Leo has learnt to look at the waves and know what they are going to do.’

‘So, when he’s bobbing on his board out there, he’s studying the waves coming in?’

‘Studying is maybe the wrong word,’ Adriano muses. ‘When you’re as good as Leo at surfing, when you’ve spent as much time in the water as he has, it’s intuition. He doesn’t study the waves, he… understands them.’

‘That makes sense,’ I say quietly, as Leo dismounts and makes his way out of the ocean. I try to ignore how I instinctively straighten and my heart rate quickens at the sight of him approaching. ‘Two things that are always important to an athlete: practice and intuition.’

Adriano nods. ‘And for the best athletes, you must add one more: courage.’ He waits for me to turn to look at him, his eyes glinting in the early morning sunshine. ‘The courage to go after what you want.’

*

I’m going to pop up on a surfboard today.

The sureness doesn’t come from me, but from Leo. He keeps telling me that it’s going to happen as if he knows, as if there’s not a hint of doubt in his mind that I can do this.

And I believe him.

‘Falling is part of it,’ he warns, as we stand on the beach, preparing to paddle out. ‘And timing is absolutely crucial. You’re not going to get it the first time, but that’s a good thing, because you learn how to read the waves.’

‘You’re preparing me for failure.’

‘Failing is important in surfing. You’re learning to feel the movement of the sea whilst also commanding a board, which is awkward and heavy.

No wave is the same; you can’t memorise bullet points on popping up and expect to do it,’ he smiles to himself, ‘but with time and commitment, it will happen.’

I nod, too nervous to speak. My stomach is twisting itself into knots as I look out at the waves, however gentle, and I’m doing everything I can to focus on the confidence I discovered yesterday in the water.

I focus on slowing my breathing, trying my best to control the fear and panic threatening to stop me in my tracks.

‘Remember, London,’ he says, turning to face me, his voice low and steady. ‘I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’re not alone, I’m right here next to you. We’re not going too far out and when you fall off that board, I’ll be there. Every time.’

It turns out, he really is a man of his word.

At first, I really do struggle. Beginner boards are so long and heavy, it takes me a while to feel in control of it. Then when I do feel like I’m getting the positioning better and paddling well, I have to feel confident with my balance and the swell of the wave to take the chance to stand.

The first time I roll under the water, I feel sick with panic but as I come up for air, there’s Leo finding his way to me, reaching for my hands and pulling me towards him so I can rest my arms on his as he takes my weight.

‘That was brilliant!’ he exclaims as I wipe the salt water from my eyes. ‘I swear to God, London, you almost had it. You okay?’

I nod, my breathing heavy and laboured.

‘Hey,’ he says through a gentle smile, forcing me to look at him as my hands remain gripped to his strong arms, ‘you’re all right. You’re all right, London. You’re good.’

He’s right. I am good. I’d gone underwater, but I’d come back up. He was there alongside me to help pull me up, just like he said. I can trust him. I’m starting to understand I can trust myself too. Something has lit up inside me, a rush that I can’t ignore.

I know that I don’t have to be here doing this. I can give up if I want to.

‘You need a moment?’ he asks, his eyes searching mine.

‘No,’ I say determinedly. ‘I want to stand up today.’

He smiles as though something has just been confirmed for him. ‘Let’s go then,’ he says, and we begin the whole process again.

It takes a few more falls to get there, but then, by some miracle, it happens.

I manage to stand up on the board as it moves with the wave.

My legs are shaking, my heart frenziedly racing; I feel the chilled wind on my face, and I can hear Leo’s cheering just before the board slips out of my control and I fall backwards into the water, the roar of the ocean slamming against my ears.

It isn’t until I come up and gulp in the cold, salty air that it dawns on me just how exhilarating that moment was.

I did it. I surfed! Me. Iris Gray. A woman who thought I’d never set foot in the sea again. To anyone else, it’s a person wobbling up onto their feet on a surfboard, not very elegantly or brilliantly. But to me, it’s extraordinary.

Such a small achievement that makes me feel like I’m the most powerful person on the planet, like I can do anything.

I have to do it again. And again.

I fall many more times. I stand three more times.

Each time better and more confident than the last. And then in the last few minutes of the lesson, I paddle out with Leo and we sit in the water, straddling our surfboards, looking out at the vast ocean stretching out before us.

It feels like we’re the only people in the world.

‘I’ve never felt like this,’ I tell him quietly after a few moments of silence.

‘It’s not bad, is it,’ he replies, bobbing next to me.

I turn to look at him, barely able to feel my feet, they’re so cold in the water so long, but I don’t care. ‘I understand now. How you couldn’t stay away from it when you came to live here. It makes more sense to me.’

He doesn’t say anything, but he smiles, gazing out ahead of him.

‘This is why I love my job,’ I continue, the adrenaline pumping through my veins making it hard to stop saying exactly how I feel.

‘The thing about athletes is that they often get defined by what they achieve. How many titles or trophies or medals. But when I do big profile pieces, I get the chance to see what it takes to get there: the passion, the hours, the commitment, the sacrifices, the drive.’

I turn to grin at him and find him already watching me.

‘What does it matter what you win if you get to feel like this on the way?’ I gush, wiping away the droplets of water on my forehead trailing from my hair. ‘This is what sport is about. It’s a way of life. And I see that now for you with surfing. The sheer love of it.’

He smiles at my enthusiasm, but I don’t care if I’m embarrassing myself.

I mean every word.

‘It’s so peaceful out here,’ I say, twirling my pruned fingers in swirls through the water. ‘Being out here on the water puts things in perspective. How amazing to get to do this every day. It must be… I don’t know… it must become…’

‘Part of your soul,’ he finishes for me. ‘That’s how you put it the other day.’

‘A wanker thing to say.’

‘But an honest one.’

We smile giddily at each other.

He’s right. The ocean is part of his soul; he couldn’t turn his back on it even if he tried, which I think, at one point, he did.

Surfing is who he is, but it’s not all he is.

These are the thoughts running through my mind as I watch him, floating on top of the water with me, our legs dangling in the ocean.

These are the things I’ll write about him.

His chest rises as he takes a deep breath. ‘I want to tell you about what happened.’

‘When?’

‘In Australia,’ he says. ‘For the article. I’ve decided I want to talk about what happened to me and why I left. If you’re ready to hear it.’

A swell of excitement ripples through me. It worked . The best way to get to know Leo Silva is on a surfboard. There’s no one else out here. It’s him, me, and the ocean.

‘I’m ready.’

He hesitates, frowning. ‘Although you don’t have your phone on you to record.’

‘I’ll remember,’ I assure him. ‘You can always check it to be sure.’

He shrugs. ‘I trust you.’

I nod. I trust you too, I want to say. But I stay silent, waiting for him to speak.

‘When you said just now that it’s easy to define athletes on their achievements, you basically put into words something I struggled with every day at the peak of my career,’ he says pensively, his brow furrowed.

‘You become so focused on the next win, you forget why you started competing in the first place: the love of the sport.’

A shadow of sadness crosses his expression and he takes a moment to collect himself before he continues, his chest rising as he inhales deeply.

He turns to look at me.

‘When I was learning to surf in Victoria, I was surrounded by some great people. Everything was easy and fun; we all loved surfing. But when I started getting attention, signing sponsorship deals and earning competition winnings, things changed. It felt good to be so admired; I’d grown up thinking I was going nowhere.

My grades were terrible, my academic motivation non-existent.

The only place I felt happy was out on the water.

I’d grown used to feeling like a disappointment, which was… difficult, considering who I was.’

He looks pained, his eyes falling to his board. I think he might be talking about his mother, but I don’t want to ask. This isn’t the right moment for interjections.