The California Club (12 page)

I grin and hug her, closing my eyes as I press my cheek to her bony shoulder and whisper, 'I'm so proud of you!'

'Don't – I'll cry!' Sasha laughs.

'God – imagine staying at Marilyn's Beach House!' My mind leaps ahead.

‘Everyone!' The others have returned and Helen reconvenes the meeting before I can get too carried away. 'Do you have a verdict?'

All eyes are on Elise. She knows she holds the casting vote and she's milking it for all it's worth.

'Well?'

I cross my fingers, Sasha gnaws a nail, Zoë scrunches her eyes closed. Nothing. Elliot nudges Elise into making a response. She makes a big show of crumpling her brow like she's in pain then concedes, 'All right …' with a look of supreme martyrdom.

We all charge across the room and pile on top of her in a noisy, boisterous hug. Not a scene I visualized happening in this lifetime.

'That's wonderful,' Alex claps his hands together. 'I just have to go back to base and confirm the arrangements and then we can meet again at about 4pm.'

'Is that when you'll tell us where we're going?' Zoë asks.

'That's right,' Alex confirms.

'Oh my god!' Zoë bounces with glee.

'Well, enjoy your afternoon. I know Helen has got something special planned…’

'Am I okay in this?' I nudge Helen and tug at yesterday's travelling outfit 'Only my suitcase hasn't arrived yet.’

She gives me a sympathetic smile. 'Don't worry, where we're going you won't need clothes.'

As she marches ahead towards the door, the rest of us exchange concerned looks. No clothes? Oh god! Not only is Helen part of a cult – turns out it's a nudist cult!

Elliot leans close and whispers: 'Gives a whole new meaning to the term "Moonies", doesn't it?’

‘You can go naked if you prefer,' Helen chuckles when Elliot tells her what we were expecting. 'I just meant you didn't need any of
your
clothes: we supply every thing here.'

We're at La Jolla Shores. About to brave the waves. In wetsuits. I feel somewhat daunted.

'Helen, are you sure about this?' I ask, kneading the dense black foam.

'Yes, yes – put it on. I've worked out the sizes, they should be a good fit.'

Zoë's already in hers, zipper straining over her cleavage like she's doing a rubber fetish shoot for Playboy, Sasha is sleek Catwoman, Elise is refusing to join in and Elliot is falling about laughing at himself – 'I look like the stick of licorice in a Sherbet Dib-dab!'

In actual fact he looks divine. His tousled hair and lean physique suits the surfer look. He's even got the right stance. I remember him saying he used to go to Newquay as a kid, before he got pale and into computers.

With a helpful hoik from Helen I manage to squirm into mine. It feels tight and restrictive yet bendy and pliant. Strange. Part of me wants to claw it off, but as I begin to calm down from the effort of getting it on, I adjust to the sensation of having a second coarser skin and reach out to shake Elliot's hand, 'Hi, Licorice Man? I'm Lara – the Human Tire!'

Elise is not amused. 'I don't know why we couldn't just stay by the hotel pool.'

‘There's no better cure for jet lag than surfing,' Helen insists. 'You'll feel

totally revitalized after, I promise.'

'She's right,' Elliot agrees. 'In fact I think I'm going to brave it in my shorts – I want to feel the water on my skin …'

I experience a flutter of lust as I watch him peel himself free of the wetsuit – it's all a bit slo-mo after-shave ad for my delicate sensibilities.

'What color rash guard do you want?' Helen nudges me, emptying a bag of stretchy surf T-shirts on the sand. 'You're supposed to wear them under your wetsuit but if you put them on top I'll be able to keep track of you.'

Zoë nabs the pink, Sasha green, Elliot blue, Helen opts for yellow and hands me the red. Red for emergency. Red for STOP!

‘Helen, I don't know if I can,' I bleat, noticing a surfer lose his footing and get whisked into a foamy froth out at sea. It's all too easy for me to imagine the pounding-drumming-glugging pressure as he claws his way up to the surface, gasping for air.

'You can stay with me:' Elise offers. 'I'm not going in.'

Suddenly I'm hurdling the waves like a Baywatch babe. What's a little light drowning compared to death by Elise?

'Okay,' Helen commands our attention. 'Before we get in the water there's some basic stuff you should know. I could tell you myself but instead I want you to meet the woman who taught me and totally upgraded my life – Isabelle Tihanyi, she's co-owner of—‘

‘The California Club?' Zoë jumps in.

'Actually no, she's the woman who started Surf Divas – the world's first surf school for women.’

'Um, Helen.' Elliot tugs at her elbow with a wry look. 'There's something I've been meaning to tell you… ‘

‘That's fine,' Helen assures him. They make allowances – Guys on the Side, they call it. Besides, you're so pretty all we need is pop a couple of clams in your suit,' she teases, grabbing his pecs.

'Get off!' he laughs, batting her away.

'She's over in the parking lot so I'm just going to help her with her gear, back in a mo.'

'Helen!' I call after her.

'What?' She turns back.

‘Are we allowed to tell each other our wishes yet?'

Helen grins broadly. 'I was wondering when you'd get to that. Go ahead – you've made your commitment. Spill!'

We huddle up.

Zoë jumps straight in with her wish: 'I want to swap lives with a Hollywood actress!'

No surprises there. Not sure how The California Club can pull that one off without kidnapping some Oscar contender, but it's a good wish with high glamour potential. Nicely played.

Zoë tags Sasha.

'I want to find the one place in California where looks don't count! Oh, it makes me sound so vain!' Sasha cringes.

'No, it doesn't,' we assure her, not envying her wish. She could easily end up in Death Valley with a load of sun-parched skulls, or maybe trampling grapes in the Napa Valley. Hmmm, all that aromatic wine, maybe not such a bad option.

'Elliot?' I prompt.

'Get me to a theme park!'

‘Reassuringly predictable.’

'I don't really know how they're going to string that out into a week-long activity,' he frowns. 'I'll just end up with massive osteopath bills from all jiggering rollercoaster rides and probably get done for stalking Cinderella.’

'Were those your exact words?' Elise checks the small print. ‘Get me to a theme park?’

'More or less. I did say something about it being the
biggest
theme park, because I had Magic Mountain in mind, but really I'd be just as happy with Universal Studios.'

'What was your wish?' Zoë asks Elise.

'I don't want to talk about it.'

'Don't be silly, you can tell us.'

'Look it's bad enough I have to do it without dwelling on it ahead of time.'

Sounds intriguing. And unpleasant. Jolly good.

'Lara?'

'I can't remember my exact wording,' I lie. 'I just said I wanted to hang out with you guys.'

'Awww, you old softie!' Zoë pulls me into a hug. 'What a waste of a wish!'

'So basically, there's no mystery with what Zoë and I are going to get – she's doing the movie star bit, I'm doing rollercoasters,' Elliot summarizes. 'Sasha – who knows? But it won't be LA, that's for sure.' He turns to me. 'Lara, I don't really see how your togetherness thing is going to work if we're all whizzing in different directions.'

‘That's true,' Sasha looks concerned.

'And Elise—‘

‘Don't!' she warns.

'You may as well—'

'Aloha!'

We turn to find ourselves greeted by Helen's mentor – a voluptuous nut-brown surfer woman wearing a red sarong and straw cowboy hat that’s creating a lattice effect of light and shade on her smiling face. 'I'm stoked to meet you all!'

She digs her surfboard in the sand and shakes our hands. 'You ready to rip up those waves?'

'We'll give it a go,' I offer, feebly.

'We're not expecting you to turn pro in a couple of hours, we just want you to enjoy yourselves,' she encourages. 'Our motto at Surf Divas is:
"The best surfer in the water is the person having the most fun!"'

'Isn't that great?' Helen twinkles, clearly dying for us to get a taste of what has become her ultimate pleasure.

I’ll give it a go for her sake but at the same time I suspect that one woman's euphoria is another woman's snot-streaming nose and salt-stinging eyes.

As Isabelle takes us through the basics, I wonder if this is a deliberate ploy to distract us from dwelling on what we've just agreed to do with The California Club – there's so much more to take in than I anticipated: when entering and exiting the water do the jellyfish shuffle (shuffle the sand between your feet so you don't splodge down on one of the slippery suckers and get stung); don't pull the board by the leash; if you lose it shout, 'Loose board!' to warn other surfers but don't feel obliged to be a board caddy if you see someone separate from theirs; no tailgating; no tea parties (sitting round chatting in groups); always keep your eye on the horizon so you know what waves are coming your way …

But before we even get in the water we have to master the vital art of 'popping up' – going from lying stomach flat on the board to jumping into your classic crook-kneed surfer pose. Not nearly as easy as it looks. I've got the board anatomy down pat – the 'deck' is the part you stand on, the 'rails' are the sides, the 'nose' 'tail' are self-explanatory – but I can't pop-up for the life of me. Isabelle tries telling me that as a girl I should understand that getting ready to go out is half the fun but my legs are getting all wobbly from the exertion.

Despite this bit being on dry land, Elise still won't join in, preferring to tell us what we're doing wrong: 'Lara, you're too far forward/Lara, you've got something just above your knee – oh it's cellulite!' That kind of thing.

Isabelle discovers my problem is that I'm 'goofy', which isn't slanderous, merely the name for people who should have their left foot forward, as opposed to their right.

‘Come on, go again!’

As one we all ‘pop up’. We look like a group of superheroes adopting our fight-ready pose.

‘Yes!’ she cheers.

Finally it's time to get wet.

‘We want you to stay good-looking when you're fifty so lather on the sunscreen,' Isabelle instructs, inviting us to press down on an industrial-sized pump. 'Don't forget your hands and the tops of your feet,' she adds, slicking such a thick layer on her face she could do a passable impression of Casper the Ghost.

'Let's go!'

'What am I supposed to do?' Elise whines.

'You can set up camp and guard our clothes.' Helen refuses to pander to her sulk. Instead she dives straight in and powers out to sea, turning the board over and ducking under the waves she can't glide over. I still can't quite get my head around her being so skilled at something I've never even see her try before. It makes me wonder what hidden talents we all might have if we were just given the chance to try something new every week. Perhaps I missed my calling in stone-sculpting or falconry. You just never know…

We’re barely waist deep in white wash when Sasha gets hit on by her first surfer dude. We make out the words 'narly' and 'hot' but advise him to take his sharking elsewhere because we don't
speaka da lingo
. Poor Sasha – she's not even safe from suitors out at sea. As we get into deeper waters I half expect Neptune himself to rise up and ask her for a date.

For at least an hour we mess around paddling like fury, only to tumble before we've even got semi-upright. Isabelle and Helen make great cheerleaders, encouraging us to get back out there but only Elliot has any real success. I watch him catch a wave and then fall back and break its glassy arch. Seconds later he surfaces, a little disorientated, shakes his head to right his internal compass, and clambers back on his board. This time he pulls it off and looks absolutely triumphant. It's the most active I've seen him in years and it's undeniably sexy.

‘He's doing a great job, isn't he?' Helen paddles over to me.

'Amazing,' I beam, unable to take my eyes off him.

'Still?' Helen says simply.

I look back at Helen. 'Always.'

She takes a deep breath and flips on to her back so she's using her board as a lilo. 'I don't know why he can't see it's you.'

'Me?'

'You,' Helen repeats. 'I thought he was nearly there and then Elise comes along.’

‘Nearly there? What do you mean?' I swish closer.

'It was just a feeling I had. Before I left, you two seemed to be closer than ever.'

'We were.' I feel a twinge of sadness. 'Then she …' I tail off. 'So, you were the first to know about the engagement!' I have to bring this up.

'Don't read too much into that, they had a reason for telling me, I just can't say what.'

Oh god I pray they’re not planning on getting married out here. No, it can’t be that. It wouldn’t happen so soon after the engagement, surely?

'It feels weird, him having so many secrets from me,' I confess.

'Well, hopefully you'll get a chance to talk on this trip. Get back to how you were.’

‘Do you think that's even possible now?'

'Anything's possible,' Helen insists.

I sit quietly for a moment.

‘What do you think of her?' I venture, trying to sound casual though Helen has always been able to see straight through me.

'You want me to say something bad, don't you?'

'If you could!' I joke.

'I'm not going to,' Helen sets me straight. 'I made a No Negativity pledge to The California Club.'

'Oh. Okay.' I look down at my board, feeling a little bit told off.

'But if I did have to …'

'Yes?’

‘I'd find it
really
easy!' she teases.

I grin back at her. That's all I need to know. I gingerly match Helen's belly-up position – it feels like I'm lying on an extra firm water bed. Every time a wave sloshes me, I spasm like I'm about to tip up but Helen just rolls with it.