Storms. Chris Vick

his hands up. ‘I am so, so sorry, man. Lancaster owes me loads for bits and bobs, but he takes ages to pay.’

      ‘Yeah,’ said Jake. ‘Three hundred’s huge. Massive. I’ll find the rest. Somehow.’

      ‘Not being funny, like,’ said Goofy. ‘But you have had all summer to save, Jakey. Just saying.’

      ‘Yeah, right.’ He stared at the floor, wanting to lie down, and never get up again. He could barely speak; he felt like crying. ‘I’m not … stupid, Goofy. I did have some saved. Thing is …’ He sighed heavily. ‘Like I say, I’ve had to help Mum. She’s got debts. She couldn’t make the rent. I didn’t have a choice. That’s why I needed to borrow. She’s in a bad way. I need to get her sorted before I go.’

      ‘Oh, I see. Look, chin up, mate. I’m still here for your mum – you know I am. And there’s a while yet. We’ll figure something out. Together. Yes?’

      ‘Okay,’ Jake whispered.

      ‘I said, yes?’

      Jake looked up. ‘All right. Yeah, there’s a bit of time, isn’t there?’ But there wasn’t. Not really.

      ‘Come o’er here,’ said Goofy, waving him towards the window. ‘See those clouds? There’s a storm coming.’

      They went and sat, looking out of the bay window at the sea and sky. Goofy rolled a cigarette and talked about the storm, about the wave-fest headed their way. But Jake didn’t hear.

      He was already going to be living off Hannah till he got work. How could he tell her he couldn’t even buy his ticket? He imagined her saying it was okay, saying they’d Skype every day. That they’d make it work till she got back.

      Yeah, right.

      ‘How come Lancaster won’t front you, anyway?’ said Goofy. ‘I mean, you are boning his daughter.’

      ‘Watch your mouth, cheeky bastard. Anyway, that’s exactly why.’

      ‘He could pay,’ said Goofy. ‘Seriously. Easy. Make his daughter happy.’

      ‘I wouldn’t take his money.’

      ‘Why not? The guy’s made a wad with that fleet, breaking the backs of honest fishermen. And renting out cottages to tourists. He’s got himself to a place where he can literally do what he wants. A better hotel in the Caribbean, another frock for the missus. You’re a better use of the cash if you ask me. His life? It’s all one big straitjacket.’ Goofy tapped his head. ‘How does his brain work? I’ve seen him down his boathouse. He pays people to mow his lawn, but there he is, on a Saturday, painting an already-white fence even whiter. Fucking nuts if you ask me. Done all right with his missus, though. See where Hannah gets the looks from. I would, you know. I definitely would.’

      ‘That’s my girlfriend’s mum, you sicko.’

      ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.’

      ‘I haven’t thought about it.’

      ‘You have now, though. You won’t be able to stop thinking about it, next time you’re with Hannah … ouch!’ Goofy winced from the jab in the ribs Jake gave him.

      ‘You are twisted,’ Jake said. He was laughing, though. He couldn’t help himself.

      ‘I’m sure her mum’ll give you the money, for a special payment.’ He winked and rocked his hips.

      ‘Shut up!’ said Jake.

      ‘See. You’re laughing. Better already. Fancy a can?’

      ‘Bit early.’

      ‘Too late for sleeping, too early for beer. You want to be careful with these rules, Jake. You’ll end up like Lancaster.’

      ‘No chance of that,’ said Jake.

      Goofy went and got a beer. Jake slurped his tea. They watched the distant wall of cloud out to sea. Jake sank into arms-folded silence.

      ‘A storm like this churns everything up,’ said Goofy, clearly trying to change the subject. ‘All sorts come out the water. I seen it back ’ome in Wales too. Old wrecks, dead dolphins. A live one once. You’d be amazed what I’ve found down coves. A crate of beer. A life jacket. A container full of top trainers, once. Offerings from the sea gods, like.’

      ‘Where was that, then?’

      ‘Oh, you know, various surf spots.’

      ‘No. Where was “back home?”’

      ‘Here. There. Moved around a bit, I did.’

      That was Goofy. Dodging the question like always. Jake knew better than to push it.

      ‘Look at that storm brewing,’ said Goofy, pointing to sea.

      Jake loved an autumn storm. The best surf all year. But he couldn’t feel hunger for it now. He was gutted, too worried about not getting on that plane.

      ‘You gonna surf it tomorrow?’ said Goofy.

      ‘Maybe.’ He doubted it. He needed to talk to Hannah. He’d arrange to meet. He’d break the news.

      Unless he could find a way to get the money.

       Jake

      IT HAD BEEN light for an hour, but it felt like night out there, with the sky caked with cloud, and the wind screaming.

      Normally he’d lie in bed with a cuppa, listening to the storm batter the window.

      Or go surfing.

      But today he needed to talk to Hannah.

      They were supposed to meet up for a walk, but what could he say?

      So far he didn’t have any ideas about how to get the money. Not even bad ones.

      Maybe a surf would help him think.

      ‘What the hell.’ He poked an arm out from under the quilt, found his phone and texted:

       Hi Gorgeous. Weather no good 4 walking. Give yrself lie in. Going qk surf. Best in ages. Meet up later, yes?

      He snoozed, waiting for a reply. When none came, he crawled out of the sack and tiptoed downstairs. He made a steaming coffee, thick as soup, and ate an energy bar. He put his wetsuit on, got a board from the shed and headed out.

      It was cold. The wind and rain had bite. They meant business. It was more like winter than the end of summer. The wind was so hard he had to hold the surfboard tight under one arm and steady the front with the other, just to stop it taking off.

      Ten minutes later he was there. It didn’t look good from the cliff. Great white horses were rising out of the sea, raging and disappearing. Huge waves, bouncing and twisting with wild energy. Impressive, but no good for surfing. Maybe he’d wasted his time. He played with the idea of heading back. But then again … he couldn’t see the cove, and the forecast website had said:

       It’s going to be special today, guys. It’s going to be wonderful … if you know the right spots.

      Wonderful. That was weird. Jake had never seen that word on a forecast before.

      If it was bad: Pony. Blown to shit. Or: Flat as road-kill.

      If it was good: Cracking. Thumping. Off the scale.

      Something like that. But wonderful?

      Wonder-ful. Full of wonders. An offering from the sea gods.

      There was a steep path, tucked into the cliffs, leading past a boulder and by a stream. No one used it apart from brave dogs and nudey sunbathers in summer.

      Jake took that