Surf School (4 page)

But Sam didn't answer. His head lolled back on the seat – he was fast asleep.

Night had fallen before they were firmly ushered out of the ward by the head nurse.

‘You two can't stay here another night. Your father's going
to be fine, we'll take care of him,' she said gently. ‘Go home and get some rest. He's going to need you when he's fully conscious.'

They shuffled along to the waiting room where Shane and Kyle were waiting. ‘Thanks for coming,' Sam said.

Tears shone on Shane's leathery cheeks. He cleared his throat, ‘How's he going?' he asked, his voice husky.

‘They think he'll be okay but he's got head injuries and a broken leg.' Sam looked at Shane apologetically. ‘He won't be working for a while.'

Shane put an arm around each of them and directed them to the car park. ‘Don't worry about that. I lined up another instructor today. The best ones have already got gigs for the summer but this guy said he could help out so we'll be fine. Why don't you kids come and stay with us? We've got plenty of room.'

‘Nah, she's right,' Sam said. He glanced towards Tilly for confirmation. ‘We want to be at home.'

T
he street light wasn't very strong, but if Marlee angled her book around she just had enough light to write. The news about Phil had travelled along the beach like a summer bush fire and as soon as she'd heard, Marlee raced back to Tilly's, understanding now why the door was shut, why her phone was off. The step was cold and her bum was numb but Marlee refused to leave in case she missed her friend. She'd nearly finished her homework when Shane pulled up, dropping Tilly and Sam in their drive. Kyle gave her a quick wave but she pretended not to notice, laying her textbooks down slowly.

Worry had whittled Tilly's face into sharp lines, and her hair hung down her back, a limp rope, and her pyjamas clung to her body – a faint whiff of unwashed skin stronger than the salty air. Marlee recoiled slightly as Tilly threw her arms around
her, letting out a loud sob, then felt guilty for hanging back. This scene had been played out so many times in reverse and Tilly had never once flinched, turned away or withheld understanding. It was Marlee's turn now and she held onto Tilly, stroking her hair as she cried, hoping she could give her friend the support she needed. Sam, his face pale and tired, unlocked the door and together they took Tilly inside. Marlee put her arm around Tilly's shoulders, waiting quietly until her sobs subsided.

‘It's so horrible, Marls. It doesn't even look like him. His head's blown up like a football. He sounds like Darth Vader on that breathing machine and he's got tubes stuck in him sucking things out, dripping stuff back in.' She shook all over at the thought, and ran her fingers backwards and forwards along the hem of her T-shirt, unable to look at Marlee or Sam. ‘I know this sounds pathetic, and I want to be there for him, but just the thought of going back in there makes me feel like being sick.'

Marlee nodded, understanding that this was more than just Tilly's aversion to blood. ‘He knows you're there for him, Tilly. You know what Phil's like, he's so fit he'll probably be home next week.' She picked up the phone. ‘Hey, you hungry? Why don't I order pizza?'

‘Starving.' Sam yelled from the shower.

Tilly eyes were red and bulgy. She blew her nose and gave a ragged laugh. ‘Of course, the human compost bin is hungry. Hey, Marlee.' She put her hand over the phone to stop her. ‘I appreciate the offer but I'm sure there's cash here somewhere.'

‘No. I've got it,' Marlee said, determined. ‘Let me help.'

Tilly clung to her tightly. ‘You being here is enough. Can you stay?'

‘Just a bit longer. I've gotta do my pamphlet run. Sorry.'

Tilly flopped back on the couch, feet in Marlee's lap, eyes closed. Marlee tickled her feet.

‘I'll stay tomorrow. For as long as you want.'

When the pizza arrived, they ate it quickly but Tilly was asleep before they finished it. Marlee packed the cartons away while Sam fielded phone calls. Then she guided Tilly towards her bed, rolling her into the middle and covering her up, sticking the Blood Book under her pillow.

Tilly woke late in the night with the arrival of the southerly. The wind tore around the house and garage so the bells on the big chime in the garden clanged wildly. She was too tired to get up and take it down. As minutes ticked into hours she listened to it ring, her thoughts colliding like comets.

Marlee planted her foot on the sidewalk, skidded the back wheel of her bike in a half circle and faced the surf, pulse racing. Nice even sets were lined up like corduroy, the wind clipping smoke off the crests. The air, misty with spray, frosted house and car windows, stiffened beach towels and settled in Marlee's hair, unbrushed and tangled at the back into the flat shape of a plate.

She hit speed dial. ‘Hey, Pink, it's going off,' she yelled. ‘Are you coming or what?'

Pink groaned. ‘It's barely past midnight and we're going to pick Mum up today – besides, you've got my wetsuit remember?'

Marlee looked at the sickly pink wetsuit wrapped around the handlebars. What is it about surfwear retailers that make them think all girls love pink.

‘Sorry. I was going to give it back.'

‘No problemo. Enjoy.' The phone went dead and Marlee hit speed dial again.

There was shuffling then Tilly's sleepy voice. ‘Yeah?'

‘Sorry to wake you, Til, but you'd never have forgiven me if you'd missed out. It's magic down here.' A set roared in and a groan went through the surfers as wave after wave curled over into perfect tubes. ‘It's a day sent by the surf gods: six foot, glassy, tubing,' Marlee yelled. ‘I know you've gotta go to the hospital but come for a surf first. It'll make you feel heaps better. Fran's gone to get her stuff. Should we wait for you?' she said more softly, the silence on the other end making her anxious.

Tilly groaned and Marlee pictured her turning over, poking the pillow in the middle with her shoulder.

‘I'll try. Don't wait.'

Sunrise had done little to push up the temperature and Marlee squeezed herself gratefully into Pink's gaudy wetsuit, her arms and legs jiggling as though they'd already headed into the water without her.

Three days of average surf to be rewarded with one like this – on a Sunday too. Sets thundered into the bay, fanning
out to give three, maybe more, excellent breaks and the beach buzzed with activity. Waves cracked like whips and all Marlee's electrical circuits responded, running through her body until she couldn't wait for Fran any longer and hit the sand running, throwing her board into the water and diving in alongside it, relishing the tiny brain freeze as her head went under.

She pushed her board through the shallows, counting four bandaids along the left rail, not to mention the twenty fin chops she'd fixed over the years. There was a new cut in the fibreglass and Marlee knew she should fix it before the water seeped through to the foam inside. The last thing she needed was for her board to snap, especially before she could win a new one.

She paddled out, pushing each arm in deep, pulling it back as far as she could to get the maximum distance and speed. Big swells, southerly winds and clear green water were winter traits, not so frequent in summer, and she was determined to catch every wave she could until she couldn't stand any more. She saw Jamie rip down the face of an oncoming wave and Marlee paddled harder, desperate to reach the lineup.

Sienna, a Diamond Beach local, skimmed by on her thruster, the board short, fast and built for high performance. Marlee nodded, envious of Sienna's sleek new board, hating her own board all the more. How much better could she surf on a hot board like that instead of her old log? One day, she promised herself, one day I'll have so many boards they'll need a room of their own.

‘Hi, Marlee.' Fran's mum cut across to her, paddling alongside.

‘Hi, Evelyn.' They ducked as a wave curled over them, coming up together.

Evelyn shook her head, water spraying in arcs from her hair. ‘Every time I look out the window I see you doing some kind of training. Keep it up, it'll pay off. You going in the club contest?'

Marlee nodded. ‘Yup. I'm going to win that board.'

‘Good for you. Let me know if I can help,' Evelyn called out as Marlee pulled away.

When Marlee rang, Tilly's body had moulded a warm burrow in the soft curve of her bed, so soft and so comfy that she was asleep moments after switching off her phone. The sun was well up by the time she rolled sideways out of bed, her toes wriggling into the soft carpet. The sudden memory of her father's accident and their time in the hospital jolted her to full awareness with an ache that filled her body with concrete.

She stretched wearily, trying to get her body moving, and threw some cereal into a plastic bag before heading across the road to the beach. Every part of her body felt heavy and seemed to operate separately. She tripped on the pavement then stopped at the crossing to check her mobile. Three missed calls and one text:
‘Old man's picking up. Will stay with him. Come when u can. Sam.'
A car hooted impatiently. Tilly jerked her head up, noticing it for the first time, and jogged over the crossing towards the crowd gathered at the seats.

Waves crashed hard onto the sand, their energy and shape mesmerising the rows of people who were wrapped in towels,
sitting on car bonnets, sand or seats, waiting for the next set. Tilly's heart spun like a weather vane. She swallowed to keep it inside her body.

‘It's your dream day, Dad. Next wave's yours,' she whispered, then climbed over the back of a bench to sit between Marlee and Fran. They eased sideways to let her in, eyes trained on the surf, then snuggled into her warm body, reaching hungrily into the bag for the cereal as though it were popcorn.

‘How's your dad?' Fran asked. Tilly stared dully ahead.

‘Any news? Is he okay?' Marlee asked.

Tilly nodded, eyes brimming with tears and Marlee squeezed her hand tight.

Fran tried again. ‘Hey, Til, you missed the best surf. I even got tubed.' She held her thumb and finger so they were almost touching. ‘Just that much.' Her face glowed.

‘Yeah, Til, it's
so
hot.' Tears filled Marlee's eyes. ‘If Phil was here it'd be perfect.'

‘Well thanks for pointing that out, Captain Obvious,' Tilly snapped, even though she'd just thought the same thing. ‘My dad's in hospital, broken up in bits and all you two can talk about is the surf he's missing.'

Marlee bit her tongue and counted the baby lambs frolicking along the leg of Tilly's pyjama pants. Her best friend sat curled inwards like a shell, eyes glassy and shadowed from lack of sleep, her face hard, unfamiliar. Marlee put an arm around her shoulders. They felt brittle and thin.

‘Hey, bedhead,' she said gently. ‘We're just trying to cheer you up.'

Tilly put her head onto her knees. ‘Sorry,' she groaned. ‘I'm just so worried about Dad.'

‘We know that,' Fran rubbed her back. ‘Have you had any more news?' She dipped her hand into the bag for more cereal.

‘Sam's with him now. He says he's picking up.' Tilly pulled herself upright, squinted her eyes against the sun. She winced as the wave chomped Jamie, his board spiking out the top of the wave as he disappeared. ‘Ouch. Bet that hurt.'

‘Come for a surf with us,' Marlee urged. ‘You'll feel so much better and then,' Marlee glanced wistfully at the new set lining up, ‘I'll catch the bus to the hospital with you.'

Tilly squeezed her hand. ‘Thanks but I can't. It doesn't seem right somehow, Dad stuck in the hospital and me going surfing. Can't,' she said again quietly, rolling up her pyjama legs.

‘Guess what?' Fran held up a damp business card and nodded at a woman taking photos. ‘She's from
Surfing Life.
We might be in the magazine. How cool would that be!'

But Tilly was staring along the pavement towards the Surf Club.

‘What the —?' She jumped to her feet.

Marlee followed her gaze. ‘What?'

‘The Surf School sign. It's practically midday and it's not on the pavement.' Tilly sprinted along the boardwalk and down the steps to the school, almost running into a group of people crowded around Kyle. The reservations book was flopped open across his knees and he had a pained look on his face, as though the whole thing was giving him a headache.