Page 126 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“I really don’t think it was, but even if it was him, he must have a key so it doesn’t matter that I’m leaving these here.”
“That sand wasn’t there,” Jonty whispered.
“You want me to ask the agents to change the locks?”
Jonty hesitated, then nodded.
“Then I will. Want me to ask then now?”
Jonty sighed. “No. Later will do. Thank you. Sure you wouldn’t rather use your kite?”
“I’d rather surf with you.”
“Even though there’s a lot of hanging around?”
“You can entertain me. But not by talking about sharks.”
“Piranhas, then.” Jonty grinned.
“There are no piranhas in the North Sea, but I really don’t want hear about any flesh-eating animals or viruses.”
They headed down over the sand. “Anything to worry about in the water?” Devan asked.
“You’re not going to let me talk about flesh-eating fish, so no.”
“I was thinking of rocks, rips, underwater volcanos.”
Jonty laughed. “We’re fine. All sand.”
They waded out into the water and paddled out.
“The waves are pretty good today.” Jonty heaved himself onto his board. “And only us out here. Need me to show you how it’s done?”
Devan glanced over to see him grinning. “I think I can remember.”
He shouldn’t have been so confident. He grabbed the next wave, but wiped out a few seconds later and came up spluttering.
“Has dementia set in?” Jonty shouted. “Look and learn, Grandpa.”
As Devan sat on his board, Jonty caught a perfect wave perfectly.Perfect, perfect, perfect.Yeah, he is.Devan watched Jonty ride all the way to the beach and felt like a lump in comparison. As Jonty paddled back out, Devan was so desperate not to fuck up the next run that he mistimed the catch and had to paddle hard, then didn’t cut left as fast as he should have, and was pushed under.Shiiit!
When he surfaced, Jonty was there, holding onto his board. “Okay?”
“Show me how it’s done.”
“My rates are forty pounds an hour. Fifty for friends.”
Devan floated and watched for a while. He’d not surfed since he’d taken up kiteboarding and he’d never been as good as Jonty. He made it seem effortless.
When Devan finally spotted a wave worth going for, he saw Jonty point at it.
“Ride that fucker, cowboy,” Jonty yelled.
Devan lay flat, looked round and waited.
“Now, now, now!” Jonty’s voice came over the roar of the surf and Devan paddled furiously.
He had to time this right, get on his feet in one smooth movement, plant himself in the perfect spot on the board. Then he was up and riding. It felt good as he cut through the water, the wave rising up behind and around him. He didn’t get all the way in, but far enough to make him whoop. He paddled back out to where Jonty was waiting, his white hair sticking out, looking darker than usual at the roots, a broad smile on his face.
