Tim Parks - Rapids

Vince found a place between Amal and Tom. Can I ask you a question? Adam had asked, driving him back from the hospital. They had taken Vince’s car. Adam had waited two hours and more while Vince was X — rayed and medicated. He had gone back and forth between Casualty and Intensive Care where Clive sat with a sort of furious patience in a busy corridor. As long as it’s not about money supply, Vince laughed. He was exhausted and aching. When we came running along the bank and saw you there, on that rock, and started calling you … Adam hesitated. And you didn’t reply … Yes? Maybe I’m wrong, I don’t know, I had the impression, well, I thought I saw you doing something with your hands. He stopped. I threw my wedding ring in the river, Vince told him. He stared out of the windscreen. After the day’s rain it was a softly transparent evening of deep shadow and brightly lit road signs. Steering the long bends up the valley towards Sand in Taufers, their headlights swept this way and that across the hill to the left, the trees that screened the river to the right. Vince sighed. Anyway, the answer to your question is: I don’t know why I did that. Oh. Adam waited. Then he said: I thought perhaps it had caught in a wound or something. Vince didn’t reply.

At the table, he ordered a ham and mushroom pizza. Then Mandy appeared at his shoulder. She had left her place beside Keith and walked round the table. She bent to speak in his ear. You risked your life, Vince! she said. Amal was talking across the table to Phil about a stunt kayaker who had shattered his pelvis trying to run a huge waterfall in Kenya, a hundred — foot drop. Vince was obliged to look up at the woman’s kindly face. It was criminal of her to put you in danger like that. I’m okay, he told her. An odd feverish quiet had fallen on him. He was impatient for the parenthesis of this holiday to be over, so he could know how he really felt. If Adam hadn’t insisted he eat, he would just have gone to lie in his tent and wait for tomorrow.

Now Mandy was bending to push a kiss on his cheek. I’m so glad you’re okay, she said. It was disturbing to see the brightness in her small brown eyes, the smile on her weathered cheeks. She was wearing lipstick. A toast to Vince! She stood up and raised her glass. Most improved paddler! Louise shouted: You’re a hero, Dad. The whole table yelled, To Vince! Adam’s cheers were particularly loud. The admirable Vince! Then Keith was explaining that a coma was normal in these circumstances: a sort of defence mechanism, actually: It only gets dangerous if it lasts more than about forty — eight hours. Vince’s pizza appeared. I’ll cut it for you, Amal offered. Mandy was taking a photo. The amazing thing is that there were no fractures. Once again Vince met his daughter’s warm eyes across the table. Her hand and Mark’s were touching. Thank you everybody, he said vaguely.

The others had already finished their first course, and were ordering sweets. As Vince bowed his head to his plate, the noise level rose around him. Under the influence of a couple of beers, the long table was breaking up into a series of conversations shouted across each other. Subdued concern about what had happened to Michela dissolved into a last — evening excitement. When all was said and done, the Italian girl was not one of their group. Nobody was missing her. Yeah, she just chucked away her helmet! Mark was repeating to Louise. And, like, we’re all staring, thinking, Wait a minute …

Clive always had a negative effect on his women, Mandy was telling Adam. She spoke harshly, almost angrily. Both Adam and Keith seemed uncomfortable. Remember Deborah, she demanded, who used to teach two — star preparation? The group leader muttered something about not being one to throw the first stone. Then in response to a question from Amal, he announced: Ten sharp tomorrow morning, everybody. That means tents and gear all packed and the trailer hooked up and ready to roll. Otherwise we won’t make our ferry. So much for Wally protecting us, Caroline was complaining. It’s hardly his fault, poor little thing— Amelia pulled the creature from out of her T — shirt— if people go trying to get themselves killed. Is it? The pretty girl was beside Brian, but darting occasional glances at Tom. I feel a bit guilty, she confided.

Slowly chewing his pizza, Vince’s mind drifted. He began to notice the restaurant. It was a large room with space for a hundred and more. The walls were a light varnished pine, the upholstery pink and flowery, the tablecloths red with white flowers in white vases, white candles, and everywhere there were ornaments and trophies dangling from the ceiling, hanging on the walls, perched on ledges and along the backs of the long sofa — benches that divided the tables.

How bright the room is! Vince was suddenly aware. On different lengths of wire, scores of plastic lampshades were designed to look like pieces of old — fashioned parchment stitched together. To the right of their group, suspended on three taut pieces of twine, were a dozen carved wooden hearts. There were aluminium tubes in the form of elongated bells, wooden cats and dogs and squirrels and fish, all hanging from the varnished cross — beams and swinging very slowly in the smoky draughts of opening and closing doors. A stuffed owl raised its grey wings on the wall behind Brian’s head. An eel was pinned in a coil beside the red and white banner of the Tyrol.

Meanwhile, the ancient musician, dressed, Vince now understood, like an undertaker, was picking out ‘El Condor Pasa’. His moustached face, that so much resembled the photos of the old men on the tombs in the little churchyard on the hill, was completely impassive. The computerised keyboard added the accompaniment. I’d rather be a hamma sandwich, Max had begun humming, than an escargot! Spearing two bread rolls, he made his knife and fork dance together on a dirty plate. A deer with shabby antlers gazed across the bright glassware. The Chicken Song, Caroline cried, let’s ask the bloke to play the Chicken Song! The fat girl burst into uncontrollable giggles. A stuffed fox bared his teeth. It is too much, Vince whispered.

Rather be a banana than a … a … Phil was tone deaf. Oh shut up! Tom told him. Than a what, may I ask? Max wanted to know. A dildo? Brian suggested. Oh do leave off. Tom seemed livid. He turned to Vince and asked in a low voice: Have you any idea why she did it? There was an explosion of laughter from a group of men drinking schnapps. Obviously locals, they sat with their dark — red cheeks and heavy moustaches mirrored in the shiny black slabs of the windows. The curtains hadn’t been drawn. Never had Vince been so struck by life’s coloured density.

You see, the young man confided, something strange happened last night. He looked around to check that none of the others were listening. Without a flicker of expression, the keyboard player switched to ‘Sweet Little Sixteen’. He was seventy if he was a day. A condom than a bog roll, Phil howled. Kids! Adam said sharply. It was really weird, Tom insisted. Vince tried to pay attention. You mean you and Michela, I suppose? he asked. The young man’s soft eyes were full of anxiety. Did everybody see? Pretty much, Vince said. I feel bad, came Mandy’s voice over the buzz, us going away without even saying goodbye to her! At moments it seemed to Vince he might just fade into all the bright surroundings. Perhaps this is the effect of shock. The earnest Tom was looking hard at him: I mean, it’s so strange her doing that with me and then the next day, well …You see? He’s pleased with himself, Vince realised. He’s dying to tell someone. Trying to close the conversation, he said: She must have been going through a crisis, you know, and whatever happened with you was just part of it. But Tom became more intimate and agitated. You don’t think it’s in any way, I mean, at all, my fault?