Page 120 of Ride the Wave

‘Speaking of images, we must get a photo together, Leo,’ Michelle says, reaching out to straighten his bow tie, a moment that the camera team bristle with excitement over, darting around to get the best angle to zoom in on it. ‘My team are very keen for one.’

‘Sure,’ he mutters. ‘If the team want one.’

‘Ah, Peter,’ Michelle says, looking over my shoulder at someone who has appeared between Leo and me. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’

‘Wouldn’t bloody miss it, Michelle,’ replies our new companion, an Aussie in his sixties with a mop of grey-speckled brown hair, bold eyebrows and a neatly trimmed beard.

His loud voice and zealous mannerisms instantly bring a fresh energy to our circle that clashes with Michelle’s – he’s lively, jolly and his eyes glint with excitement as he looks up at Leo towering over him.

‘Leo Silva, what a privilege,’ he says, holding out his hand to shake Leo’s vigorously. ‘I’m a big fan of yours, mate. Watched you from when you were a grom.’

‘Leo, may I introduce Peter Davis, a titan of innovation and technology projects for a long list of forward-thinking companies,’ Michelle says plainly.

‘You’re a master of flattering introductions, Michelle,’ he chuckles, shoving his hands back in his pockets, before beaming back at Leo. ‘You, sir, need no introduction. I’m a bit of a surfer myself – not to your level, that doesn’t need to be said,’ he barks with laughter, and I smile warmly at him, grateful for his interruption to our stilted conversation, ‘but I do love it when I have the time. You’re retired I know, but do you still get out there?’

Leo opens his mouth to answer, but Michelle gets there first.

‘Oh, Leo does nothing but surf,’ she says, a hint of disapproval in her voice, adding with a sigh, ‘That’s all he’s done for years.’

Aware that there’s cameras still fixed on us, it takes all my control not to let the muscles in my face form the frown they’re crying out to do. She’s good at this – saying what she means without saying what she means. But it’s all there, her blatant criticism seeping through her meticulously constructed words.

I can feel it, and worse than that, I know Leo can.

‘Leo is currently competing at Bells Beach,’ I say proudly to Peter. ‘He won this morning – he’s through to the Quarterfinals.’

‘Crikey! Brilliant, mate.’ Peter reaches for Leo’s hand again to give it a vigorous shake, causing Leo to laugh despite himself. ‘I didn’t know you were back on the Championship Tour again. I haven’t had time to keep up with it this year, but if you’re there, I’ll be sure to look out for you. What’s Bells? The fourth stop on the Tour?’

‘He’s not competing in the World Championship,’ Michelle states. ‘He’s only back for this one contest by special invitation.’

‘Ah, well, that must be a bit of an upset for the younger surfers on the Tour,’ Peter says excitedly. ‘Showing them how it’s done, eh? You were unbeatable then; I’d say you’re even better now.’

‘Iwasbeatable then,’ Leo concedes modestly. ‘Ethan Anderson proved that, and I’m not the only one providing an upset for the pros – he’s not been doing badly himself at Bells.’

‘Where have Ibeen? Under a bloody rock, it would seem!’ Peter exclaims, slapping the palm of his hand against his forehead. ‘He’s back as well, is he?’

‘Came out of retirement to face Leo again.’ I say.

Peter nudges Leo with his elbow. ‘He was never really a match for you. He had power, but he didn’t have your technique. I’ll be putting money on you, mate.’

‘Thank you.’ Leo smiles, his cheeks flushing.

‘What a comeback!’

Michelle gestures to me. ‘Yes, Iris Gray is the journalist who is chronicling his journey forStudio.’ Her eyes fix on mine as she offers a thin-lipped smile. ‘She’s clearly very… committed to the project.’

Fucking hell.

There are a few ways to react to someone when they treat you like this. When their looks and comments drip with poison to make you feel small, to embarrass or shame you. It’s easy to shrink away from it, maybe even start to believe that they’re right about you.

But I’ve never been one to run from a fight. Michelle might think she’s got me down, but she can bet her arse that I can read her like a fucking book. I’m not daunted by the formidable. I was raised by them.

I hold her gaze and smile right back at her.

‘Oh, there’s nothing that motivates me more than a good story,’ I say directly to Michelle, Peter and Leo no longer a part of this. ‘When it comes to one of my articles, you can always count on me to be as thorough as possible.’

There it is: so quick anyone else would miss it, but I see the flicker of fear in her eyes. I know exactly who I’m talking to. It’s time she realised who she’s dealing with too.

‘A journalist, eh?’ Peter chuckles, oblivious to our stand-off, his chipper tone drawing both of us back into the room. ‘And a Brit! You lot have always been the most ruthless when it comes to the media, isn’t that right, Michelle?’

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