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Usually, it’s around now that I’m feeling sick with nerves, but maybe it’s been the build-up to the Final that has actually been the most stressful bit.

But he’s here now; he made it. He doesn’t have anything else to prove.

Aside from the crowded stretches of sand either side of me, it feels like one of those calm mornings in Burgau when I’d watch him head out with his friends to surf.

He looks relaxed, flicking the water out of his hair after duck diving through a wave, paddling just ahead of Ethan.

Despite the time difference, I’ve had a flood of messages from people asking me to wish Leo luck.

Flora and Kieran, Naomi, Toni, and Marina, who has set up a projector and is screening it live at the bar.

She sent me a picture of everyone earlier; it may be the middle of the night over there, but the place is rammed, all the locals out to support Leo.

My mum is currently making her way here from Tasmania where she’s been for several days.

‘Tell Leo I’ve had a surf lesson!’ she told me on the phone yesterday.

‘You what ?’ I said, unable to even picture my mum on a surfboard.

‘My teacher said I’m a natural,’ she informed me proudly.

‘That’s… that’s brilliant! Mum, I didn’t know you were going to have a go at surfing.’

‘I thought it would be a fun thing to get into. Then the three of us will be able to go surfing together some time.’

It was one of the nicest, most moving things Mum’s ever said to me.

Glancing around the excited surf fans crowding the beach, I turn to look back at where Adriano is positioned halfway down the steps to the beach. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, before peering out at his boy, rubbing his hands together apprehensively.

That’s when I see her.

My lips part with surprise. Michelle Martin standing near the top of the steps, Jenna tucked just behind her.

I don’t think Adriano knows she’s here. There’s no camera crew surrounding her; there’s been no fuss made about her arrival.

She’s easy to spot in her cream, tailored trouser suit and oversized, designer sunglasses, but it would seem that she’s making every attempt to blend in and not cause a scene.

As she surveys the beach, she spots me gaping at her.

I think about waving, but can’t quite bring myself to do it.

It might be a trick of the light, but for a moment, I think I catch a glimpse of her giving me a nod.

But I blink and she’s turned away, her eyes fixed on the contest.

Following her lead, I return my attention to the waves, a warmth filling my stomach. I may strongly dislike that woman, but I’m glad she’s here.

The forty minutes on the clock has begun – they have that bit longer for the Final.

The waves look big out there and forty minutes gives Leo and Ethan plenty of opportunity to show off what they’ve got.

When Leo pops up for his first ride of the heat, taking a smaller wave than Ethan, he seems perfectly balanced and connected, looking as though he’s barely trying as he puts in four brilliant turns with perfect rhythm, before throwing in a rotation at the end, hopping down into the white foam to an eruption of gasps and applause from the crowd.

The scores come in: a seven-point ride, compared to Ethan’s starting four point six.

It’s a strong start, but if Bells Beach has taught me anything, it’s that the tide can change. On these waves, anything can happen.

The competition carries on and no one around me is able to stay composed. There’s an incredible buzz on the beach, the crowd making a lot of noise at each turn they put in, and it feels like both Ethan and Leo can feel that energy.

It might be the encouragement from the spectators or maybe he’s a little inspired by Leo, but Ethan starts to push that bit harder.

He’s fighting back. His scores creep up and Leo is no longer dominating the Final; he’s winning but not by much.

It’s two unbelievable performances with one difference – it’s clear that while Ethan is so focused, he’s stiffer, perhaps that bit more nervous, the dream of winning again after all this time within his grasp and dampening his fun.

Where he’s climbing the face of the wave, Leo is floating.

Ethan returns to playing it safe; Leo is playing with flips.

You can see it in their movement, in their expressions, even in the way they paddle back to position after a wave: Ethan wants to win Bells, Leo’s just happy to surf it.

There’s not much time left and Ethan makes a decision to take a wave that Leo either hasn’t noticed or isn’t interested in, because he doesn’t even attempt to move with it.

He turns his head in surprise when he sees Ethan go for it.

It’s a mistake on Ethan’s part: he’s trying too hard, forcing turns, he tries to add in a rotation, but his foot slips and his board leaps out of his control, jutting upwards into the air.

The crowd groans as Ethan is forced to dive into the wave, resurfacing and wiping the water off his face, crestfallen.

It won’t affect his points – he has two much better scores up there – but time is running out and Leo is now in a brilliant position, while Ethan has to paddle his arse off to get back in time for a chance at another go.

‘Leo’s going to win,’ I whisper, my breath shaky. ‘Oh my God. He’s going to do it.’

He floats out there in the water, waiting for his chance. Serene and hopeful.

When I accepted this commission, I never thought I’d end up here. There are so many things that have led to this moment that I never could have envisioned.

I never thought that I’d find myself right at home in a small former fishing village on the Algarve coast. I had no idea that I would find the courage to face my fears and swim in the ocean once more, that I would stand up on a surfboard and glide in, however bumpily, with a wave.

I didn’t consider I might return to London and feel like I was in the wrong place, that I might belong somewhere else.

I didn’t predict that the retired athlete I was interviewing would be just as good as any current ranked surfers, that he would still be the best here at Bells Beach and prove as much.

I never could have foreseen that I would stand up to Michelle Martin and risk future work to fight someone else’s corner.

I would have laughed if you’d said that I would end up making my way to Australia and not on my own, but with my mum, who had finally taken the jump and was travelling.

Just when she thought things were over for her, it turns out they were only just beginning.

And I would never have believed you if you’d told me in Toni’s office, as I gazed at the photograph of Leo Silva on her desktop screen, that I was going to fall in love with him.

Because I am. It hits me like a fucking tonne of bricks as I gaze out at him alone in the water, on the cusp of winning Bells Beach.

I love him . All of him. And I couldn’t give a shit what happens in this competition, I just want him to get his cute, absurdly firm arse back on this beach so I can tell him that.

I break into a wide grin, my hands round my mouth.

I can’t believe this. I really am in love with this guy.

Head-over-heels, delirious-with-giddiness, too-happy-to-breathe love. Fuck me. I didn’t see that coming.

Before I flew to Burgau, Mum reminded me that people can surprise you.

I just didn’t think I could surprise myself.

‘This is going to be a good finish, I can tell,’ someone says on the blanket next to me on the beach, getting to their feet.

Everyone is standing up. I join them, my heart racing.

There’s forty seconds left on the clock.

Ethan is only just making it back to Leo now.

His arms must be tired, his chest must be aching, his legs must be burning.

But the swell is the best it’s been, and he’s doing everything he can to get there.

‘Fuck, that’s going to be a good wave,’ another person says.

‘Watch Leo Silva show them how it’s done,’ their companion replies.

Standing on my tiptoes, I can see Leo is shouting something at Ethan.

He’s… he’s waving frantically for Ethan to move with him.

My smile falters as I peer into the distance trying to work out what’s going on.

Everyone else seems to be doing the same, a ripple of confusion washing over the crowd.

Somehow finding the energy, Ethan is doing everything he can to paddle up next to Leo, who is nearest to the peak of the breaking wave.

‘What’s Silva doing?’ someone cries, as Leo looks back to check Ethan is there. ‘He has priority!’

But Leo doesn’t take it. He’s still yelling something at Ethan as he hangs back and Ethan flies forward, moving to pop up.

It’s the best wave so far, no doubt about it.

It’s a huge face to play on and Ethan makes the most of it.

He glides and carves, cutting through the water and putting in turns with such drama and power, it draws a chorus of awestruck gasps from all of us lucky enough to see it playing out live in front of us.

The wave seems to go on forever, giving him time and room to dance across it, and when it finally comes to a close, he throws in a rotation with such flair that the roar of noise from the spectators almost bursts my eardrums. It’s going to be a big score. Big enough to put him in the lead.

The buzzer sounds. The Final is finished.

Ethan Anderson has won Bells Beach.

I look to Leo, still far out in the water. He must have heard the siren, but he looks unfazed, paddling calmly with the water and surfing in on a small wave.

‘Silva made such a big mistake,’ a man sighs to his friend next to me, before joining the crowd surging towards the water to greet the surfers when they come out.