Swell (35 page)

Ricky shook his head.

‘No. No I think I’ll just watch from here.’

As it turned out there was nothing to watch. By the time Jason wrestled his way through his well meaning, adoring fans, stumbled over the sharp reef and paddled out through pounding surf to the line-up, Rock O’Rafferty had begun the countdown for the
end of the heat. The three other surfers in the water stared gobsmacked at Jason who had never been known to miss a heat, such was his professionalism. Missing the most important heat of his life was unfathomable.

‘Five, four, three, two, one.’

The hooter sounded.

‘It’s a tragedy, ladies and gentlemen. Jason Cross did not get the chance to catch a wave. We don’t know what happened there but we will get that story for you.’

The roars of celebration drowned out Rock’s commentary when the Tiger Sharks realised the enormity of what had just occurred. Cain Ohana was the world champion. He was through to the next round and on points alone he could not be caught. The final competition result was irrelevant.

I hugged Izel who burst into tears. Ricky and Chuck hung their heads. Wyatt and Ben consoled each other, their pain real.

‘It’s not fair,’ said Ben. ‘It can’t just end like this.’

‘Contests aren’t fair,’ said Wyatt soberly. ‘That’s life.’

I walked away from them, past Oli who was screaming into his Blackberry. His pain was real but it was pain for himself. Jason was an asset that had just plummeted in value and Oli, his team manager, would be held responsible.

I stopped under the shadow of the front porch and rested my head back against the cool wood. I closed my eyes, suddenly overcome by a feeling of exhaustion. For the previous fortnight I had been negotiating a fierce rollercoaster of emotions, which all at once closed in on top of me. I had tried my hardest to help Jason through the gloom and
we had almost made it, but it was over. There would be no world title and no glorious showdown. I slid down the wall, curled up against my knees and let the tears flood out.

‘I let you all down.’

Jason awkwardly lowered his surfboard down beside me. I glanced at the writing scrawled along the wooden stringer in the centre of the board.

Lucky 13
.

It was the board I had signed in the shaping bay with Seb.

‘I jinxed you,’ I said with a weak smile.

‘No, you tried to inspire me and you did. I just took a bit too long to catch on.’

He slid down beside me and held onto his knees. His skin was dripping wet.

I laughed weakly.

‘Funny, I always wanted to inspire people but I thought it would feel better than this.’

‘But you do inspire people, all the time,’ said Jason. ‘I’m sorry. It was me who messed up.’

I rubbed his knee.

‘Don’t be. You gave it your best shot.’

‘But that’s not what I’m about. I’m a winner, just like you.’

‘Like me? I don’t feel like a winner right now.’

‘Bailey Brown, I haven’t seen you be self-pitying before.’

‘It’ll pass,’ I shrugged. ‘Just let me indulge myself for a moment. It’s been a tough year.’

‘It’s not over yet.’

Jason leapt up and outstretched his hands.

‘There is one more thing we can try.’

‘Really? Because I am out of options.’

‘Luckily,’ Jason winked, ‘I’m not.’

He took my hand and almost dragged me back towards the beach. His face was animated when he spoke.

‘When I was out there in the water I could hear Rory cursing me for being such a fool. “You dickhead,” he was saying, “after everything we’ve been through. How can you just give up?” He was there with me. I could feel it.’

‘Great,’ I said in bemusement, ‘could he just throw the big man upstairs a couple of quid to turn the clock back?’

Jason laughed and held my hand tight as he forced his way through the crowd.

‘Sorry, I can’t sign autographs right now but I’ll be back,’ he said politely to the adoring faces around us. ‘I will be back.’

We stepped up onto the judging tower and I stopped to catch my breath above the sea of fans.

Jason gazed intently at me, his eyes flashing.

‘Unlike Cain I have been professional and respectful my whole career. Now I am going to see if all that respect has done me any good. Are you with me?’

I smiled up at his youthful looking face and felt a thrill when I realised Jason was indeed back and more determined than ever.

‘I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,’ I beamed, ‘but yes I’m with you.’

Munroe pulled his shock of white hair back from his face and frowned.

‘I’m sorry, guys, I really don’t think I can bend the rules on this one. It’s too important.’

‘Exactly, Munroe, it is important. Too important to stick to the rules. Come on, you don’t want to let the people down and not give them the showdown they’re all waiting for, do you? A damp squib of a finish to a world title race is hardly great for publicity.’

Munroe scratched his head in the manner of Laurel and Hardy and sucked air through his teeth.

‘You missed your heat, Jason.’

‘I know. For the first time ever in my career. I have never caused you guys trouble, Munroe. I have never questioned the decision of the judges, even though sometimes they get it wrong.’

Munroe smiled wryly and Jason continued.

‘And I realise I’m asking a hell of a lot but our team has been through so much in the last couple of weeks and we just lost it for a minute there but we’re back. All of us.’

Right on cue, Chuck stumbled in the door dragging Ricky behind him. Our motley crew huddled behind Jason and watched Munroe pleadingly. He shifted his eyes.

‘You want me to reinstate you, which means the next heat will have five surfers. They might not like that especially when I tell them who it is. You’re not easy to beat.’

Jason blushed and struggled to find an answer.

‘Why don’t you ask them?’

Everybody looked at me.

‘Yes, put it to a democratic vote, Munroe. The surfers voted to run the contest so why don’t you ask them to vote on whether Jason can be given a second chance? That way you wouldn’t be stepping on anyone’s toes.’

‘Yeah, dude, let’s have a vote,’ Chuck hooted. ‘I vote yes!’

Munroe chewed his lip and scratched his head again before he slowly began to nod.

‘I guess it can’t hurt. We’ll have a break at the end of the next heat and take a vote. I guess the public will be happy if you’re allowed back in. And I do mean if.’ He shook hands with Jason. ‘Good luck and between you and me, I hope they let you surf.’

‘Thanks, Munroe. I guess I’m about to find out how popular I really am.’

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Munroe’s office behind the judging tower was crammed with every surfer and official from the world tour, reflecting the international nature of the professional surfing circuit.

The burly Brazilians congregated in one corner talking over each other at top volume in their native tongue. Their exchanges always sounded like furiously heated arguments until they doubled up with laughter and then continued with equal vehemence. The stylish French surfers, which included Tahitians and surfers from Reunion Island, surrounded Petit Sylvain who had qualified for the following year and was their clear leader despite his youth. They were smartly dressed to a man, well coiffured and lean. The Australians were a rather more rowdy bunch with relaxed beach hair and stubble. They tended to swear every second or third word and spent most of the time before the meeting comparing stories of bikini girls they had spotted that morning. Two South African surfers, one of whom had enjoyed an ear lick from the BB girl back in France, sat alone engaged in a serious discussion about the democratic process about to take place.

The Americans were a divided collection of Californians, Floridians and tattooed Hawaiians. Jason was surrounded by those from the west coast, including the big wave surfers from the San Francisco area who were a more tenacious bunch than their sprightly So-Cal peers and the fresh-faced locals of Daytona and Cocoa Beach. The Hawaiians were another breed entirely, their bodies buff and thick-skinned enough to withstand daily punishment in some of the world’s most violent waves. Despite being California born, Cain held court in the centre of the Hawaiians, his skin burned darker than almost every one of his brothers.

Every face in the room was familiar to me now and I found comfort in being surrounded by all the people I had come to know over the year. We were a close-knit community, which was not to say we all saw eye to eye all the time. Like a dysfunctional family we travelled the world’s beaches, changing each other’s lives along the way. I would miss it terribly.

Cain’s face was set in a grim line when Munroe got the proceedings underway by announcing Jason would make his case and then the surfers would vote by a show of hands. Chuck, Oli, Ricky and I stood at the back of the room quite literally with our fingers crossed. Ricky had his cowboy hat pulled firmly over his eyes and appeared nervous among the surfers. I wondered whether he was feeling regret for not having been able to follow his own dream as a talented young surfer to compete at this level.

Jason’s tone was resolute when he took the floor.

‘I realise I am asking a big favour of you all. I won’t go into the fine details of why I missed the heat today. I admit I have been suffering since Rory died. We all know how it feels when a fellow surfer dies. We are reminded of the dangers of our career and of how close we are every day to surfing our last wave when we paddle out in waves as perilous as we do for this tour.’

A murmur of acknowledgement spread around the room. Cain glanced around and lowered his head.

‘I’m afraid when Rory, my closest friend, lost his life at Pipeline I focused on those negatives. I felt the fear and I lost my direction. I failed to focus on the reason we do this job and that is because ultimately the ride is worth the risk. Rory told me that over and over and when I paddled out there today I heard him reminding me of that fact.’

Jason took a minute to gather his thoughts. Cain, meanwhile, shuffled his feet impatiently.

‘I was a mess this morning,’ Jason carried on, ‘but my team’ – he nodded at me and I blushed when every face in the room followed his gaze – ‘they got me going. I was not prepared, I broke a board, and my back-up board wasn’t ready. I missed my heat. The first heat ever.’

‘Shame,’ Cain sniffed.

‘Quiet,’ ordered Petit Sylvain firmly.

Cain’s mouth dropped open but he said nothing.

‘I am asking you for the chance to let me honour my friend by competing for the title at Pipeline as I should have this morning. I am asking you to bend the rules just this once. I know whoever I come up against will have to surf a five-man heat but there is no other way around this. I am asking for your support. That is all I can do.’

Jason sat down on the edge of Munroe’s desk and Munroe took the stand.

‘Does anybody have anything to add?’

Cain raised his hand.

‘Yeah, Brah. Cain Ohana, current world champion,’ he said sarcastically, ‘I have something to add. I won that title fair and square and I don’t see why we suddenly go changing the rules because Jason’s a bit upset.’

‘The circumstances are extenuating,’ pointed out a surfer from San Francisco.

‘Hey we’ve all had people die,’ Cain replied. ‘So we’re gonna let a guy back in when his dog dies huh?’

Two of the Australians jumped to their feet.

‘Take that back, mate, you’re disrespecting one of us.’

The Tiger Sharks stood up to retaliate but the rest of the Australians joined the confrontation.

‘Yeah, in fact disrespecting is all you guys ever do,’ one of them hissed.

The Brazilians were next to stand.

‘Yes you look down on all of us who are not in your gang,’ one growled, ‘and we won’t stand for this anymore.’

‘Hear hear,’ the South Africans added.

‘Jason has always played fair,’ said Petit Sylvain, ‘and he is a worthy champion. We want to see him surf.’

‘Oui!’ his friends shouted.

Cain banged his chest.

‘I am a worthy champion. I won this fair and square. I fought for this.’

‘You got that right,’ tutted a Floridian, ‘you fight. That’s what you do. You don’t know what fair means.’

Cain panicked when he realised he was losing the one fight he needed to win. A fight involving words instead of fists was not his forte. He glanced back at the Hawaiians.

‘Back me up, Brahs.’

The Hawaiian surfers who competed on the circuit were not the Tiger Sharks. In fact, Cain’s henchmen did not have the right to vote.

I held my breath when the largest of the Hawaiian locals, a man whose arms were entirely covered in tattoos, which was a significant surface area considering the size of his biceps, stepped forward and placed his hand on Cain’s shoulder.

‘I respect you as Kama’aina,’ he said in a voice so deep it sounded like thunder, ‘and we respect you as a champion but here in da islands, surfing is in our blood.’

‘It’s in my blood,’ Cain protested.

Beside me, Ricky clenched his fists. He related to the theory.

The Hawaiian moved his eyes slowly around the room, taking in every person in front of him. The discussion had become a dangerous melting pot of issues based on personal relationships and national pride. I was worried the pot was about to boil over but the big man’s voice had a calming influence. One by one the surfers sat back down to listen.

‘In Hawaii surfing is the sport of our kings, of our ancestors. We must not let that sport be tarnished by violence and fighting. We do not want the sport that founded our culture to be based on threats and intimidation. The waves are intimidating enough, huh?’

A murmur of agreement buzzed around the room.

He placed his other hand on Jason’s shoulder. His biceps flexed.

‘There is much talk of what happened to your friend.’

Cain’s face twitched with nerves. His eyes were fierce.

‘And we will never know for sure whether the rumours are true or whether our God of the ocean Hui decided it was Rory’s time. Whatever, I believe we owe it to our surfing brother to honour his name and end this year with a fair fight. A fight in the water. I say we let the waves decide.’