Storms

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2017

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

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Text copyright © Chris Vick 2017

All rights reserved.

Cover photographs © Aleksandar Nakic/Getty Images 2017

Chris Vick asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

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Source ISBN: 9780008158354

Ebook Edition © 2017 ISBN: 9780008158361

Version: 2017-03-17

For Julia, Lucy, Steve and Janine. You know why.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Part One: Before the Storms

Jake

Hannah

Jake

Hannah

Jake

Hannah

Jake

Part Two: September – The First Storm

Jake

Jake

Hannah

Jake

Hannah

Jake

Hannah

Hannah

Jake

Hannah

Jake

Part Three: Between the Storms

Jake

Hannah

Hannah

Jake

Jake

Jake

Hannah

Jake

Hannah

Jake

Jake

Hannah

Part Four: Storms

Jake

Hannah

Hannah

Hannah

Jake

Hannah

Jake

Jake

Hannah

Jake

Hannah

Hannah

Jake

Jake

Hannah

Jake

Part Five: After the Storms

Hannah

Hannah

Hannah

Hannah

Jake

Hannah

Jake

Hannah and Jake, Jake and Hannah

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

Books by Chris Vick

About the Publisher

www.Eye-Sea-Surfcheck.com

Forecast

Winds: light-variable

Conditions: calm

Waves: clean, fun, 2ft

Blue skies, calm seas.

No major swell, people. A few 2 or 3 ft peelers on the more exposed beaches.

But hey, it’s summer. The sky is blue.

Enjoy the balmy weather.

Get on a longboard.

Drink beer.

Have fun.

THE PLAN WAS to get to the beach for a sunset surf, then sit round the fire with some other idiots and their girlfriends, talking shit and sinking beers. When he’d had his fill of it, he’d fall on his sleeping bag, drunk. After a few hours’ kip, he’d be woken by the dawn, and the crash of waves.

Surf. Party. Dawn surf. Home for Mum’s fry-up. That was the plan. Not falling for some girl.

*

He got there late. People were already arriving for the party, lugging blankets and cases of beer across the sand to the nook below the rocks. There were surfers in the water, getting some half-decent waves.

‘Bastards!’ Jake dumped his gear on the rocks, changed quickly and pelted into the water.

The surf was good. Summer-small, no more than chest high, but clean and peeling nice, giving long, smooth rides, with a fast, steep wall before they died on shore.

He surfed till he was out of juice and it was near-dark. At the back of the beach, tucked in a crescent of rock, a large bonfire was burning, with a smaller fire nearby, for cooking. Gangs of people stood around them. Fag and spliff-ends lit the dusk like fireflies. The air was filled with laughter, music, the sizzles and smells of fish and burgers cooking. It was going to be a good night.

As he walked over the sand he saw a girl. She was sitting by the smaller fire, taking mackerel out of a cool-box. Her blonde hair hung down, hiding her face.

‘All right?’ he said, as he walked past.

‘Hi,’ she said, looking up. ‘Good surf?’

‘Uh, yeah.’ In the light of the fire he saw her eyes. Oval sea-pools. He reeled, like he’d been thumped. The girl’s eyes had delivered the punch. Those eyes, and her sunshine smile.

He climbed on the rocks, in the near-dark, to find his gear, thinking, What just happened? No girl had ever done that. Not with one look, one smile.

Jake watched her from the shadows. He felt like a stalker, but he couldn’t help it. She had freckles, a tan, silky straight hair. She dressed plain. Jeans, hoody, a T-shirt, flip-flops. She had a slim, tight bod. She was gorgeous. Some girls wore prettiness like a new dress, like they knew what they had and needed to show it off. Not this one. She looked a good sort too. Kind. Could he tell that just from how she looked? Yeah, maybe.

He forced himself to stop bloody staring. Hung his suit on a rock and towelled his hair.