‘Yes. I’m referring specifically to Beau receiving a lot of attention at the pre-season training ground in Saas-Fee recently. Some people were even suggesting he might be better on the snow than Kit. Do you think Kit would ever step aside and support his brother in a wingman capacity, in the way that Beau does for him?’

Ari looked back at her with a first trace of uncertainty. ‘I know Kit would always support Beau. And if Beau decided to go pro too, then he would treat him with equal respect as a fellow competitor on the snow; they’d always be brothers at home.’

That wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping for.

She switched direction, wanting to hop about, keep him from seeing where she was trying to get to. ‘Tell me about Kit’s transition to snow. He’s made it look effortless.’

Ari’s shoulders softened again. ‘Well, there’s a lot of crossover between the two sports. He didn’t choose it by accident. And of course, he’d actually learned to snowboard back in New Zealand before he ever learned to surf, so he had some experience in the memory bank. But as I said, he’s a competitor. If he puts his mind to something, he won’t stop till he can do it.’

‘Do you think he loves it in the same way as surfing, though?’

Ari’s mouth opened but the words didn’t come immediately. ‘. . . Honestly? No . . . I don’t think anything could ever be for him what surfing was. I think he felt it saved him, at a time when things were falling apart. It was his therapy. As long as there was another wave, there was always another chance to transcend to that place where only surfing takes you . . .’ He grinned. ‘Look at me, getting all dopey on you. But it’s true. Surfing has a spiritual element to it that you don’t necessarily see watching competitions.’

‘So then why did he leave it?’

Ari’s chin lifted up, his eyes hardening suddenly as they found themselves, suddenly, in the territory they had all been skirting for the past month. ‘You know why.’

‘You mean the incident with Cory Allbright at Peniche?’ she said, angling her head slightly to remind him to answer his questions for the benefit of the camera.

‘Yes.’ His body language was instantly closed, reminding her of their first morning here. ‘He retired after the incident with Cory Allbright.’

‘Although he didn’t retire immediately, did he?’ It was a rhetorical question. ‘He went on to win the next season after Cory’s accident. He got his ninth World Tour Championship title, the most ever. He broke the record and then retired,’ she said levelly. ‘I suppose the point I’m putting to you is that he didn’t retire because of Cory’s accident; he retired because he’d broken the record for most ever Championship titles.’