Page 27 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“Get in the front,” Mike told Jonty.
Jonty slid into the seat.
“You’ll have to sit in the back,” he heard Mike say to Devan. “Kiteboarding in an offshore wind?” He whispered, but Jonty still heard. “Are you fucking crazy? You could have both drowned. He isn’t—”
“Shut up, Dad,” Jonty called before Mike said something he didn’t want to hear or didn’t want Devan to hear.
Mike slammed the rear doors, dropped into the driver’s seat and slammed that door too.
Jonty heard Devan shuffling up behind him. There were no seats in the back. Mike used it to transport sports equipment from one beach to another.
“Dad?” Devan asked from behind Jonty’s head.
“No, I am fucking not his dad. Do I look old enough to be this little shit’s father?”
“It’s my pet name for him.” Jonty put his hand on Mike’s knee. “And Little Shit is his pet name for me. Devan guessed that one.”
Mike muttered under his breath and Jonty felt Devan’s sudden warm exhalation at the back of his neck.
“If you call me Dad again, you’ll be walking back,” Mike said. “And move that hand off my knee before I have to confess to Willis. You know he makes me tell him everything.”
Jonty laughed and removed his hand. “Only warming my fingers.”
“That sea came out of nowhere,” Mike said. “It was the wind howling that made me go and check if you were okay.”
“Did I say thank you?” Jonty asked. “I don’t think I did. Thank you, Mike. You are a prince among men.”
“You stayed out there too long.”
“No arguing with a rip. It’s a like a stalker. It won’t let go.” Jonty shuddered. “But I rode a double header. It was awesome. I was awesome. And no one saw me. But I was so awesome. I might try for the Olympics. Not this time, obviously.” He yawned.
“Don’t go to sleep,” Mike snapped.
“God! What is it with guys telling me that? Devan, then Brian, now you.”
“Who’s Brian?” Mike asked.
“One of the lifeboat crew,” Jonty said. “He’s a prince among men too.”
“Now I feel special,” Mike said.
Mike pulled up next to the Aston Martin, which was at the far end of the car park, so no wonder Jonty hadn’t spotted it. Would it have made any difference, though, to where he’d chosen to surf? He’d have still gone into the water even if he’d known Devan was out there.
“Can we have showers, please?” Jonty asked.
Mike looked over his shoulder at Devan. “You going to give him a lift home after?”
“Yes,” Devan said.
“Okay then. Put your stuff in your car.”
After Devan had pushed the board, kite and mess of tangled lines and his helmet into the boot of the Aston, he grabbed his bag and climbed back into the van.
Mike drove over to the shop. “Get your board out, Jonty, while I turn off the alarm.”
But when Jonty went to the rear of the van, Devan had already propped the surfboard against the side.
Mike unlocked the door of the shop and went in. A few seconds later, he beckoned them. “I’ll stow the board. Want a hot drink? Coffee?”
