Tony introduced Elinor to the table and rapidly reeled off the names of the seventeen people sitting there. They passed over Elinor’s head in a blur – she’d never been very good at remembering names anyway – but one name caught her attention.
Richard Glynn.
Looking across the table she realised that Richard Glynn was the scowling young man who’d stomped past her a few weeks ago when she’d been photographing the surfers at Treyarnon Bay for the first time.
Tonight he was dressed smartly in a shirt and tie, his black hair combed back and glistening with some kind of hair gel. His harsh features weren’t scowling tonight. In fact, the deep bark of his laughter was repeatedly booming across the table.
Richard Glynn...
The grumpy farmer Leo had warned her about. And clearly a surfer too.
Assimilating this interesting bit of information, Elinor sat down in a bit of a daze next to Tony, wedged in tightly between him and the blonde girl he’d been talking to earlier. She drank her beer absent-mindedly, listening to the chat around her and gradually realising, belatedly, that they might as well have been talking in Mandarin for all the sense she could make out of the conversation.
‘Yeah, Michael’s a Benny,’ said the girl next to her dismissively.
‘And a complete Barney,’ agreed Mick. ‘He’s totally clucked. I really don’t know why he keeps turning up. He’s a frube and I don’t see that changing any time soon. He’s been out there for five days now and nothing’s happening.’
‘Have you had your board fixed yet, Mick?’ asked Tony, noticing Elinor’s complete bewilderment and changing the subject.
‘No I haven’t fixed the crease yet... I was hit by a total bomb in the impact zone the other day,’ Mick said, turning to the others briefly. ‘It was so grim. I was totally worked. I’ll get the board down to Jim’s shop in Newquay on Monday. By the way, Elinor, I wanted to say to you that I think you’re ready to join us in Constantine Bay. In fact, I really think you should give it a try.’
The girl next to Elinor turned to her in surprise.
‘You’re a dude?’ she asked.
Elinor gazed back at her confusedly, not understanding her question. She noticed that the girl’s face was bare of make-up but that she was still a very striking young woman, with large, dark blue eyes and a quirky pattern of dark freckles on her tanned skin. She looked to be in her early twenties.
‘I haven’t seen you out there before,’ said the girl, perplexed.
‘She’s a grom, Jennifer. She’s still on the ankle busters in Porthcothan at the moment,’ elaborated Mick helpfully.
‘Oh right! A quimby,’ said Jennifer, losing interest. Elinor felt her hackles rise.
One of the other men laughed.
‘Don’t bother with Jennifer, Elinor. She’s a radical surfer, always charging the waves. She’s only stoked when she meets her match.’
‘Oh shut up, Ed,’ said Jennifer impatiently. ‘Don’t you listen to him, Elinor. He’s just a junkyard dog.’
‘Hey, that’s out of order!’ protested Ed, after the others near them laughed.
Elinor couldn’t help but feel their banter was incredibly juvenile, even though she couldn’t follow half of what they were saying. Despite her incredibly short skirt, Elinor could tell that Jennifer was a thorough tomboy and would have little respect for someone like her who was always beset by her fears and anxieties.
She felt extremely out of place amongst these experienced and knowledgeable surfers and, despite her fascination with them as a group, she was longing to be elsewhere.
Jennifer, having lost interest in Elinor, was now talking to someone on the other side of the table, leaving Elinor to look down miserably at her empty pint glass.
She felt a warm hand place itself over hers and squeeze it reassuringly. She looked up to find Tony looking at her apologetically.
‘I’m sorry, Elinor,’ he said kindly, bending down and talking into her ear. ‘I can totally see how it’s a bit overwhelming listening to these idiots. I’m sorry for bringing you into the group. They really don’t mean any harm but we’ve all become a bit cliquey, I’m afraid. We spend most of the winter together, which isn’t necessarily a healthy thing. Come on, let’s get up and get another drink at the bar. It’s the least I can do to make up for it all.’
They both stood up and made their way to the bar unnoticed by the others who were now all arguing vociferously about something, with none of them showing any willingness to listen but instead shouting over one another with practised ease.
Tony and Elinor climbed on to the tall bar stools and waited for the barman to attend to them.
‘Do your friends talk like that all the time?’ asked Elinor after a moment.
‘I guess they must do. I’m so used to the way they speak I don’t really notice it.’
‘It’s really confusing. Like they belong to some elite club or something.’
‘That’s utterly ridiculous! For one, surfers aren’t an elite club. We’re morons really, if you think about it. Who else would risk their life and limbs surfing on the waves?’
‘It seems to me to be more of an adrenaline addiction than an act of stupidity. I mean, I totally get it. I really do. I’d like to be able to do the same but the more time I spend around surfers the more I realise I’ll never get there. I’m too different and I’ll never be good enough.’
Tony gave her a puzzled look and waited patiently while Elinor asked the barman for a gin and tonic. He ordered another non-alcoholic beer.
‘Why aren’t you having anything to drink? Are you a teetotaller?’ asked Elinor, curiously.
‘No, I’m not teetotal actually. I just have to be careful on a Friday night because I’m on dawn patrol.’
Elinor stared at him.
‘Dawn patrol?’
‘Sorry. That’s surf speak again. I’m going surfing first thing in the morning, so I need a clear head. Look, what you just said about not being good enough is complete and utter rubbish. You heard Mick. He thinks you’re ready to try the waves at Constantine.’
‘I know, it was nice of him. But in reality I’m so clueless and fearful. I’ll just have them all mocking me, like they were mocking that other guy tonight.’
‘So? Why should you care what they think?’
Elinor gave Tony a steely look.
‘It’s easy for you to say that when you surf as well as any of them.’
‘We all started as newbies. All of us.’
‘They certainly don’t behave like it,’ said Elinor, indicating their table with her thumb.
‘You know, one of the things you need to be able to surf well is balls. If you’re going to join us, you’re going to have to forget about your fear and what people think of you, and just go for it.’
‘That’s just it. You don’t understand,’ said Elinor, sensing herself getting lightheaded and looser in tongue with every passing minute but somehow unable to stop herself. ‘I’m afraid of everything. Every single little thing... I’m on the highest dose of Sertraline you can be on, all because I’m afraid of everything. I’m a total coward, in fact.’
Tony watched her avidly, as though she was a rare species of bird that had suddenly landed in his back garden.
‘Don’t you get it?’ said Elinor, annoyed by his silence, and talking louder and louder in her vehement effort to be understood. ‘That’s why I’m so fascinated with surfing and with you surfers. I envy you all that freedom and fearlessness. I’ve been a prisoner to my anxiety for over a year now. It feels like it’ll never leave me. And with all the encouragement your friends give to people who aren’t as good as them, what chance have I got? I’ll always be a nervous wreck no matter what I try and do.’
Tony cleared his throat.
‘Despite what you’re saying, I still think you should keep at it, Elinor. You’ve put so much work into surfing.’ He glanced at her glass, with a look that said he was starting to guess she was getting tipsy. ‘Tell you what, why don’t you do a dawn patrol with me in a week’s time? Weather permitting, of course. There’s rarely anybody else there at the crack of dawn on a Saturday.’
While Tony calmly polished off the remains of his beer Elinor thought about his suggestion, moving her fingers up and down her glass meditatively. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Leo making his way towards her, torch in hand.
She smiled to herself. Only Leo would think it normal to turn up at a pub with a torch. When she saw Tony peering at Leo’s torch with a bemused eye she started to giggle.
‘Elinor, how are you doing? Alastair’s ready to go now and take us home. Are you coming with us?’ asked Leo jovially.
‘Leo, this is Tony Reece.’
‘I gathered that,’ said Leo complacently, shaking hands with Tony. ‘She’s told me a lot about you.’
To Elinor’s annoyance she felt herself begin to blush.
‘All good, I hope!’ joked Tony, looking amused and flattered at the same time.
‘Oh yes! Absolutely,’ said Leo, wilfully ignoring Elinor’s frantic and pointed glare. ‘She has a thing for surfers, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.’
‘Leo, please don’t let me hold you back. I’ve still got a drink to finish. I’ll catch a taxi and meet you back at the house,’ said Elinor, talking rapidly, striving desperately to find a way to shut her outspoken uncle up.
‘Don’t worry, we can wait for you to finish your drink,’ said Leo obstinately, clearly reluctant to let Elinor come home on her own.
‘Leo, I’m very happy to drop Elinor off,’ offered Tony, intervening in what was becoming a fraught conversation between the two of them. ‘I’ll be going soon anyway and it’s not far out of my way. I know the roads around here like the back of my hand. It’s the least I can do after subjecting Elinor to my friends tonight.’
‘Well that sounds like an offer we can’t refuse, doesn’t it?’ replied Leo, with what Elinor thought was a crass wink. ‘OK, I’ll leave you two to it, then. See you back at the house, Elinor.’
Leo turned and walked back to his table where his friends were all unabashedly staring with interest at Tony and Elinor.