The Turn Of The Tide

JASPER, come back here! Leave the gulls alone!”

- Lydia Jones

The wind snatches my words as our Jack Russell terrier snaps at birds gliding with teasing grace over the waves.

I don’t know why I bother. Asking a terrier to stop chasing gulls is like telling the tide not to come in. Jasper streaks away and I follow.

He sprints over rocks that are hurdles to me, along the shore and past the wooden surf school building. Intent on pursuit, I don’t spot the large wave.

“Argh!”

I’m soaked up to my waist. From his perch beachside, Jasper wags his tail. I squint against the low sun to see if Rhys Morgan has seen.

“You want to watch those waves.” He smirks and I scowl in return.

“You think?”

I can see his shoulders shaking with laughter from here.

“You want a towel or something?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

What I absolutely don’t want or need is any ribbing from Rhys. I’m a big girl now and more than a match for him.

I turn and stalk back down the beach, my trainers squelching with each step. I feel him staring at my back, but I don’t turn.

“Nice of him to offer, though, Nia,” Mam says when I tell her.

“Yeah. Only so he could carry on laughing at me.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Mam purses her lips and opens the Aga door with oven-mitted hands. “I always thought he was a lovely boy whenever he came round with your brother. Nice manners.”

“Well, he’s not a boy any more.”

“I know that. We haven’t seen much of him in the pub since he came back, but enough to see he’s turned into a bit of a hunk.”

“Mam!” I give an outraged giggle.