Page 35 of Ride the Wave

He shrugs. ‘I don’t remember. My dad surfs.’

I wait for him to embellish his answer, but he seems to think that’s good enough.

‘What’s the next question?’ he prompts when I continue to stare at him expectantly.

I sigh, sitting up and making a point of turning off my Dictaphone.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks, brow furrowed.

‘It’s not working.’

‘What’s not working?’

‘This. Me asking you questions this way,’ I attempt to explain vaguely, shoving the Dictaphone back in my bag.

‘You haven’t asked many.’

‘Enough for me to know we have to do this differently,’ I say, waving him off. ‘Let’s just sit here and talk.’

He swivels towards me slightly. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ I insist, before returning to my position of lying back propped up on my elbows. Time to try another tactic. I breathe in the salty sea air. ‘Can I tell you something?’ I pause for dramatic effect, before blurting out, ‘I don’t like the beach.’

His jaw falls open. ‘What?’

‘I don’t like the beach,’ I repeat.

‘How can anyone hate the beach?’ he asks me in disbelief.

‘I likelookingat it! Don’t get me wrong, I love the view of a beach. But I don’t like being on it. The sand gets everywhere, and I hate the feeling of it between your toes.’ I shudder, glancing at his toes as he scrunches them on purpose. ‘I hate going into the sea because it’s cold and salty and you can’t tell if you’re going to step on a crab – which, by the way, happened to me as a kid – or if slimy seaweed will wrap around your ankles. And I hate coming out of the sea because it’s even colder and the sand sticks to the edges of your feet no matter what you do and you can taste the salt on your lips which makes me want to be sick…’

The whole time I’m talking, he’s watching me intently, stunned into silence.

I heave a sigh. ‘So yeah, in conclusion, it’s not for me.’

There’s a beat of silence before he bursts out laughing.

‘What’s so funny?’ I ask, frowning at him.

‘Everything you’ve said is true,’ he says, ‘and that’s why I love the beach.’

‘Youlikeall those things?’

‘Love them. Maybe not stepping on a crab, although I can’t say I’ve experienced that so far in my career.’

‘Lucky you. Have you ever been stung by a jellyfish?’

‘Yes. I wouldn’t recommend it.’

‘Where did it sting you?’

He winces. ‘Just beneath my butt, actually.’

‘Ouch, that must have been sore. Did someone have to pee on you?’

‘No, luckily I made it through without that remedy,’ he says, breaking into a smile as he leans back on his hands. ‘It was nasty, though.’

‘Did a shark give you that scar on your wrist?’ I ask, nodding to the faint line I’d noticed in yoga earlier.

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