“You’ll have to take that off!” He gestures at my anorak in amusement. “Can’t surf in a coat!”
“I’ll … I’ll take it off for the lesson,” I say.
“That’s good. That’s good.” He nods vaguely. “Beginner group, are you?”
“I … yes. I’m a beginner.”
“You’ll make a fine surfer!” he says encouragingly. “You’ll do well.” Then his eyes roam over the beach again in confusion. “But where are the others? They’re all late! Go and tell them, will you?”
“I … um …”
“Sandra, how many in the first class?” he calls, then seems to wait for an answer. He heads across the deck to the closed door, surveys it for a full minute, then shakes his head as though in bemusement. “Don’t know where she’s got to,” he mutters after a bit. “Ah well …” He looks at me and his faded gaze refocuses. “Oh, it’s you!” he exclaims in sudden animation.
“Yes!” I say, feeling a clutch of relief. “It’s me, Sasha! Remember my sister, Kirsten? We used to—”
“Now, I’ve had to put you in the first class,” says Terry, without appearing to hear me. “The ten o’clock class. I know you’ve surfed before, but …” He pauses, looking surprised. “Love, where’s your board? You’ll need a board!”
I can’t find a reply. I’m gripped by sadness, by shock. As I gaze at Terry’s kindly, inquiring face, I feel two tears trickle down my face. When Tessa said her father wasn’t himself, I thought …
The truth is, I didn’t think. I didn’t imagine. I wanted Terry to be like he was in my memory, forever.
By now Terry has spotted my tears, and he shakes his head sorrowfully.
“Oh dear! You’re in the wars, my dear, aren’t you? Now, look,” he says, stepping toward me. “Look, look, look.”
I wait breathlessly. This is how he began every pep talk. “Look, look, look,” he’d say, before dispensing some nugget of wisdom. But how’s he going to give me a pep talk about this? How can he?
For a few seconds, Terry also seems nonplussed as to how to continue. But then his brain seems to click into gear, and he smiles kindly at me.
“You took a tumble. The sea had some fun with you, that’s all. But remember this.” He turns and points out to the gray sea. “You’re never failing, you’re learning. Learning how to manage the sea and how to manage yourself. Everything you did today, right or wrong, was experience. Experience! Can’t beat it. And you’ll learn from it, just you wait. Now, did you get any injuries? Any cuts, bruises?” His gaze roams over the vestiges of the bruise I got from running into the brick wall, and he clicks his tongue. “Does that hurt?”
“No, it doesn’t hurt,” I tell him quickly. “It’s better now.”
“Good!” He looks pleased. “So it’s just inside here we have to fix.” He taps his head.
“I’d love that,” I say. “Believe me.”
“You know what you’ve got to do?” He leans forward, his blue eyes suddenly cogent and intent. “Trust yourself. Believe in yourself. Will you do that?”
“I … OK.” My voice is choked. “I’ll try.”
“Oh, my dear.” Terry’s eyes cast around the beach again, as though he’s trying to work out the reason for my distress. “Look, look, look,” he resumes eventually. “I know your friends laughed at you. And I’m going to have a word. But what you must remember is this. No one remembers the wipeouts. They don’t! People remember the triumphs!” His blue eyes give a hint of the old twinkle. “They’ll remember all the times you caught that wave and you rode it into shore. I’ve seen you do it,” he adds encouragingly. “I know you can do it.”
I can’t move. I can’t reply. His words are hitting me deep inside.
“Now,” adds Terry knowledgeably, “you want to know why you wiped out?”
“Yes,” I say, desperate to hear his answer. “Tell me. Why did I wipe out?”
“Because you tried,” says Terry simply. “You tried, my dear. And that puts you above most people.” He lifts his hand for a high five, and as I gently slap his hand, he clasps mine, his fingers dry and papery. “Believe in yourself. You’ll do well.”
“Thanks, Terry.” Two more tears spill down my face, and I wipe them away. “For … everything. Everything.”
“It’s my pleasure!” Terry looks pleased, and a little confused. “Always a pleasure. You did well today!” His eyes dim, as though he’s losing his own train of thought, then he adds more decisively, “Now, you can leave your board on the beach or take it away for the day. But let Sandra know, won’t you? Oh, hello!”
A broad, bulky woman with a kind smile is approaching us over the sand.
“Time to go, Terry,” she calls, and greets me with a friendly wave. “Hello, there. I’m Deirdre.”
“Hi,” I say, hoping my face isn’t too tearstained. “I’m Sasha. I’m … I used to know Terry.”
“Teach you surfing, did he?” she says.
“Yes. I hadn’t seen him for twenty years. Till now.”
“Ah.” She meets my eyes with a smile of sad understanding. “Well, he’s changed. But still Terry inside, aren’t you, my love? Ready for some tea? And Tessa’ll be round later!”
Terry gives her a docile nod and takes the arm she holds out.
“He’s often here on the beach, if you want to say hello again,” she adds, as she leads him off.
“Thanks,” I say eagerly. “I will. I do. Bye, Terry. It was lovely to see you.”
“The thing you must remember is …” Terry replies intently, as though we’re mid-conversation. “The thing is …” He trails off and blows out, as though in frustration at himself.
“Don’t worry, Terry,” says Deirdre reassuringly. “No rush. Take your time.”
For a moment there’s silence except for the waves and the wind—then Terry seems to recall what he was going to say.
“The thing you must remember is to enjoy the ride.” He looks at me with a sharp blue gaze, and just for an instant I’m looking at the old Terry. “Enjoy every moment. Because if you don’t, what’s the point? The ride is it.”
“I know.” I nod, smiling, even though my eyes are wet. “The ride is it.”
“Exactly.” He nods, looking satisfied, then points at the forbidding gray surf. “All right. Enough talk. Go get it!”
“That’s right,” says Deirdre comfortably. “She’ll go and get that sea. And we’ll go and have some cake. Bye, love.” She smiles at me. “Nice to meet another pupil of Terry’s. There are so many of you, turning up here and there! He must have taught a lot of lessons.”
“Yes,” I say simply. “He did.”
Terry gives me a sweet smile over his shoulder, then walks away with Deirdre, and I sink down onto the deck of the Surf Shack, lost in a mishmash of thoughts and memories.