Page 108 of One Summer

‘They’re my way back, because all those worst times of my life? I have to remember them every day. My manager got me a book deal and I’m locked into a deadline I have no chance of making.’

‘Wait, you have a publishing deal?’

‘Yeah, I have to tell readers how I became a joke in the surf world for trying to ride the world’s heaviest wave and dying for twelve minutes before being resuscitated on the beach in front of the world’s press.’

I remember the news clip. I saw it shared all over social media. A little rubber man the size of an ant falling through the lip of a giant wave. That was Caleb?

‘You’re not a joke. People were amazed you even tried.’

‘It was ego. Desperation. I thought if I could do it, I’d get big money sponsorship, but all that happened is I got injured and lost all my other deals – my only source of income. I had an opportunity to do something amazing and I messed it up. This book is my last chance of clawing back any money… and I can’t even write it.’

‘But you own this amazing house. Can’t you downsize and take the pressure off yourself?’

‘Not mine. I’m renting it cheap off a mate.’

I sit down on the box opposite his chair and try to find the words, but I’ve got nothing except platitudes.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, reaching out my hand and placing it on top of his.

This gesture makes him look up at me and I see a hunted look in his eyes. Some deep pain that I can’t touch. There is something else there, too, as he looks at me.

He rubs his hand across his eyes, as if he’s in a world of hurt, and I rise to get closer to him, drawn by a force I don’t understand. At the moment I stand, he does the same thing, and then we’re in each other’s space, his mouth an inch from mine, and I don’t know how we got here, but I don’t want it to stop.

A crash booms and a cloud of dust rises from the corner of the room, where a stack of kayaks has just fallen. Trotting out of the dust cloud, completely unharmed, and with a bright twinkle in his eyes, is Maurice the rat.

Before I can say anything, Caleb is leaving the storage space, and all I can see is his squared shoulders and the back of a T-shirt that urges me to ‘check myself before I wreck myself’.

Touché, T-shirt. Touché.

Ninety

Signals

I lie in bed, feet on different wiggling schedules, fingers fizzing with what I suspect is restless hands syndrome. Somehow, and I can’t believe I’ve let this happen, I have fallen head over heels in love with my grumpy next-door neighbour, who it turns out is a former professional athlete coming off a serious injury.

I can’t stop thinking about him. Even when he’s at his most annoying, I can’t help wondering what his mouth would feel like if I kissed him. I could just do it. I could just lean forward and kiss him, except I can’t. I can’t cross the invisible divide between us. If we were meant to kiss, it would have happened. We wouldn’t have been interrupted by a free-roaming rat.

*

The next evening, I get a message from Caleb.

It’s the first time he has ever texted me – he’s always just turned up at my door. I didn’t even give him my number, so he must have got it from Betty.

I’m at the arcade for the book club. My nan told me to come, but there’s nobody else here.

There’s a note here, though. For you.

The arcade? Why is he there? Of all the places on the island? This is clearly another ruse engineered by Betty, but what is she up to?

When I get to the arcade, I see it’s lit by strings of white fairy lights and candles set in hurricane lamps. In the centre of the room, there’s a table set up with a white cloth, a cheeseboard, glasses, a bottle of wine and a note with my name on it. Caleb hands it to me, looking as confused as I am.

I open it and see what Betty has written. One line.

Give him a chance or you’ll never know.

He waits for me to tell him what’s in the note, but that’s between me and his nan.

I look at him, really look at him, and then lean forward and kiss him.

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