Elinor shrieked loudly as felt herself falling with a resounding smack onto the water. Bitter, salty seawater entered her mouth and nose. She rose up to the surface, choking and spluttering and pushing back her hair. She quickly flung her two arms over the surfboard and lay there exhausted and immobile, letting the water rock her.
She noticed all the lads surreptitiously trying, but failing, not to stare at her.
She had no dignity left. The other four boys had all managed, by now, to stand up on their boards. She hadn’t managed to get her balance on the board once. Let alone allow a wave to carry her towards shore. Mick had done his best, holding her board for her so she could ‘pop up’ onto it, but she still couldn’t get her balance right.
Despondently, she’d decided by the end of her lesson that surfing was not for her. Her swimsuit had ridden up uncomfortably into the crack between her buttocks, her ribs were sore from banging on the board as she launched herself onto it and paddled out to the ocean. Astonishingly, her toes were also killing her. She hadn’t realised how much they’d be used as she tried to ‘pop up’ onto the board.
‘OK, guys, good work. That’s it for today. Remember to keep practising your surfboard position at home, so it becomes second nature. Well done, all of you,’ shouted Mick.
Elinor had laid her head on her arms and didn’t feel like moving. But it was the end of the lesson. The others were all making their way onto the beach, to dump their surfboards before heading for home.
She started to kick her legs in the water, manoeuvring herself towards the shoreline.
Tony Reece was making his way towards the water with his troop of young surfers. From a distance, they looked like little ducklings following their leader. The Dolphin Surf School was definitely running a conveyor belt of apprentices today.
By the time Elinor was wading tiredly through the surf at the shoreline, Tony Reece was encouraging his group into the water.
‘Hi Elinor. How did you get on?’
Elinor looked at him crossly.
‘Surely you must have heard me? I haven’t managed to keep my balance once during the lesson. The other little tikes who were in there with me have all managed to get on their boards. I’m afraid I don’t think this surfing malarkey is for me.’
‘Hold on, Elinor! You can’t give up that easily.’
‘Give up that easily? Are you having a laugh? I’m going to be black and blue with bruises tomorrow. I can’t even feel my toes any more, they’ve been wrenched that much. I’ll be lucky if I’m able to walk in the morning. Believe me, I’ve tried.’
She could see Tony was trying not to laugh. She was now feeling worn out but she could feel a bubble of hysteria forming in her too. She sternly repressed it. This was all Tony’s fault, after all. He was the one who’d challenged her to learn.
‘Look Elinor, there are exercises that you can do at home to improve your balance. All it takes is a little practice. If you can wait for half an hour, while I finish with this lot, I can show you.’
Elinor paused for a moment. She was unsure if she still wanted to be sucked into the crazy world of addicted surfers. She saw Tony looking anxiously at his group, waiting patiently for him in the shallows.
‘Oh, OK then. It’s probably going to take me half an hour to get myself out of this wetsuit, anyway. I’ll wait until you’re finished,’ she conceded.
‘Great. See you then,’ said Tony, already making his way out to join his class.
Elinor stretched back her shoulders and walked across to the surfing stand, dumping her surfboard next to the others.
‘Thanks, Mick.’
Mick looked up from his phone and smiled.
‘No worries. I look forward to seeing you next week.’
‘I don’t know about that, Mick. I mean, I couldn’t even get up on the board today.’
‘You’ll do it, Elinor, you really will. I mean it. It takes us oldies a bit longer to learn, but we all get there in the end. I tell you, once you’ve ridden your first wave you’ll be hooked,’ said Mick, with what Elinor was beginning to recognise was the look of a surfer fanatic.
‘OK. I’ll definitely think about coming back. Thanks anyway,’ said Elinor, not feeling strong enough to commit herself to any more surfing torture.
She walked quickly off to the changing cubicle. Taking off her wetsuit was such a painful procedure that she started to wonder if she’d done more than bruise her ribcage. She sat down for a moment to allow the pain to ebb.
It was a relief to feel the soft, dry layers of her clothing touch her body but her jeans felt tight and uncomfortable. She made a mental note to bring her joggers with her next time. If there was a next time...
Ten minutes later, she wandered out onto the beach to watch Tony as he taught his young students to balance on their surfboards. She wondered why he bothered doing this. After all, working as a GP he must make a tidy sum. What could possibly be the appeal in teaching people to balance correctly on a surfboard? She didn’t get it. Tony Reece was a mystery to her.
Before long, Tony’s surf lesson finished and Tony walked up to her, signing for her to follow him. She walked behind him as he made his way determinedly up the beach. He stopped for a moment by the surfing stand, to pick up a tennis ball, and then carried on walking.
Elinor, stoically ploughing through the sand in his wake, started to wonder where they were going. They walked on until they reached the edge of the road. Once they were on the road itself, Tony turned around to face her.
‘Right. There are two exercises you can work on to improve your balance. Stand, feet hip-width apart, and distribute your weight evenly between both legs. Like that. Now, shift your weight to the right and lift your left foot off the floor.’
Elinor tried to hold her left foot up, but within seconds she found she was tumbling forward. Tony quickly caught her arms and propped her upright again.
‘OK? Got the balance again?’
Elinor nodded, unable to speak as her leg wobbled with the strain of holding her upright.
‘OK. You hold that for thirty seconds and then you do the same with the other side. You keep repeating the exercise, every day, until you feel fairly confident.’
Elinor put her foot down again and breathed a sigh of relief.
‘That’s it? That’s what you do to get better balance?’
‘Well, I’m afraid that’s not all you’re supposed to do. The next stage for this exercise is that while you’re balancing on one leg, you throw a tennis ball up in the air and catch it. Like this,’ Tony said, demonstrating by balancing on one leg and tossing the tennis ball up and down.
‘You know, there’s no need to show off. I’ve already had my face rubbed into it,’ said Elinor with a sniff.
Tony grinned at her and stopped.
‘Finally, you need to build up your core strength for surfing. It’ll make a huge difference to your ability. That means wide press-ups, diamond press-ups, staggered press-ups, tricep press-ups and, of course, sit-ups.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me! What on earth are diamond press-ups?’
Without another word, Tony threw himself on the ground and demonstrated how to do a diamond press-up.
Elinor rolled her eyes up to the heavens. She looked humorously at Tony as he stood up again.
‘I’m going to have to write all this down. It’s clear you surfers have quite a repertoire of exercises to do. How on earth do you find time for it all?’
‘You just fit it into your daily schedule,’ said Tony, taking it all completely seriously. ‘If you send me a text, I can send you a return text later on, with a link that explains all those exercises.’
Elinor took her phone out of the bag and saved to her address book the mobile number Tony reeled off to her. Not so much because she had any serious intentions of following through with his advice, but because he was a good-looking man and she wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to take note of his contact details.