Tim Parks - Rapids

Clive had his lips set. A glazed look has come over his eyes. Think what you like, but I have to go.

Vince sighed. Show me the keys and things, he said.

Outside, the night had finally grown chill. He used the bathroom again, then walked back to his tent. Louise still hasn’t returned. Lying down, without even bothering to take jeans and sweater off, Vince tried to decide if he was pleased with this turn of events. Louise would be happy to sit beside Mark in the minibus. I have escaped Mandy, he thought. In the end, he had been lying awake waiting for something to happen, for some improbable transformation. The sparrow rather than the snail. Stupid words. You want to stay, Clive said. Do I? As before an exam in the distant past, or the night before his wedding for that matter, he had been keeping himself awake to avoid entering the gorge, the moment when all choice was gone. I’m a chubby chicken waiting for the chop! So now you’ve delayed it a few days, he told himself, a week. Big deal. I haven’t thought about Michela at all, he realised. I certainly didn’t jump at staying because of Michela. Unless Clive had guessed something about that moment when he and she had been together under the waterfall. How long was it? Thirty seconds. A minute? Why did I shout those things? You’re not betraying anyone, Clive said. He asked me because he senses I like her, perhaps. It was odd how strong and fragile the bearded man was. I chose you! As if he was Jesus after disciples. No, it was hardly, Vince thought, because of that kiss, that brushing of lips, that I threw away my wedding ring. Last place on earth, she had said of the waterfall. Now Vince remembered the photo of the girl who’d died up on the glacier. What was her name? Suddenly the obvious occurred to him. He jumped to his feet, crawled out of the tent, slipped on his sandals. His car was parked beyond the kitchen tent, beneath a tree. Sure enough, there they were. He peeped through a steamy back window. Only for a second. The seats were down and he could just make out their heads poking from beneath the old blanket he kept in the boot. It was pointless to wake them now. They’re not in love, he thought. They had wound down a window an inch to breathe. Should he wake Adam? The sound of a Jeep starting over by the chalets was star — tlingly loud. Headlights moved up the track, turning the tents to blue and orange transparencies. Clive escaping. No, I’ll pretend I don’t know. He waited until the noise had faded and the hushed flow of the river rushed back into the silence from beyond the trees. It was all a pleasure, he decided, going back to his tent. Gloria would have been furious.

No, I’m not her uncle, Vince said. He wanted that clear at once. It was a scandal, a complete scandal, Mandy had raged when he explained the situation. The mad morning bell — ringer was at work. The valley was full of sound. Vince smiled and kissed her cheek. Seven a. m. You’re a disgrace, Adam told his son. Your mother will kill me. You don’t tell her everything you do, the boy said. His nose was blocked from the swimming he had done yesterday. Everybody’s nose is blocked. Vince packed up the tent to clear their pitch, then set off to the hospital while the others were still having breakfast. Thanks Dad! Almost at once his daughter texted him. He had said nothing to her about her night out. Despite not having used it all week, his phone was down to its last bar. And almost at once she sent a second message. Can’t believe you’re not hurrying back to the office!

He hurried to the hospital. It had occurred to him Michela would need clothes, pyjamas, toiletries and so on. He unlocked the chalet and searched. Clive hadn’t tried to tidy or left any notes. How different from their own home where everything had always been ironed and ordered, where Gloria always left explanatory yellow Post — its on cupboard and fridge. Vince wasn’t even sure if the things he found had been washed. The intimacy excited him. There were toiletry products with Italian and German names. A complete scandal, Mandy repeated, running over to say goodbye again. I wish I’d been there to give him a piece of my mind. She was angry. She took both Vince’s hands. She is jealous of the girl, Vince knew. It was silly. Of a girl who had tried to kill herself. Our families are indissolubly linked, Adam said wryly. The man offered his hand. Steady on, Vince smiled. He wouldn’t open to him. Don’t worry, I won’t fight the water, he told Keith. The paunchy man had a twinkle in his eye. Wish I was staying, mate. He was enjoying Mandy’s rage. Please, Tom whispered, give her my love. This— he handed over a beer — mat with a scribble— is my e — mail address.

And now Vince was repeating to some sort of ward sister that he was not Michela’s uncle. He spoke very slowly and clearly. It was important to have that farce out of the way. I — am — not — her — uncle. No. The truth was he had only just learned her surname: Donati. But I would like to see a doctor about her. Yes. She hasn’t woken up, the nurse warned. The woman was grim. She shook her head under a green cap. Not voken, she repeated. And not all the staff were here on Sundays. Vince waited more than an hour in a corridor before a doctor took him into a small office to insist that they must inform the girl’s next of kin. They couldn’t discuss the matter with a stranger. As always, Vince explained the situation truthfully. He had put on the most serious clothes he had with him. Cotton trousers, a battered linen jacket. The doctor didn’t agree: On the contrary, I think it is very probable that she really wants her mother to know most. He too spoke with a strong accent. She wants to say, look, Mutti, I can kill myself too. For some children, this is a way of showing they have become adult.

Vince was polite. I can only tell you the very little I know, he said. His whole career had been built on a habit of complete candour. He didn’t trust himself to lie. From the one personal conversation I had with her, he said, I would say that seeing her mother might be counterproductive. She might react very badly. She was very angry with her family. The doctor pursed his lips, played with his pen. He was a small earnest man in his mid thirties. No doubt he knows the regulations. Her boyfriend, Vince repeated, the man she lives with, will be back on Thursday. He had to go to Berlin. The doctor shook his head. I don’t think so, Mr, er, Marshall, yes? I don’t think the partner of a pretty woman goes away at a time like this. What could be more important?

Vince offered no comment. They looked at each other across a metal table — top. You have hurt yourself too, I see? Just a couple of stitches, Vince admitted. Aren’t you a bit old for falling in rivers? This was irritating. I don’t think age has much to do with it, doctor. The doctor played with a pen. You have only known her a week, then? Five days, Vince said. And why are you the one to stay now? Her boyfriend asked me to; I was the only person with my own car. So you have no special relationship with her? Vince sighed. A friend, nothing else, a member of the same group. Then he added: People have a strong sense of solidarity, you know, doctor, when they do these things together. I’m sure that is true, Mr Marshall. Now, you will please inform the mother of this accident, or you will find the telephone number so we can inform, okay? Okay, Vince said. He hesitated. Can I see her, though? Should I leave my own phone number? I have a mobile.

To his surprise, he was allowed to sit by the bed. There was a cabinet to put her clothes and things in, but Vince decided first he would find a laundry. Michela lay as if deeply asleep. Her breathing seemed normal enough; the face, with its high cheeks and tanned skin, was transformed by a huge bruise beneath the eye. She’s sweating, he noticed. He wondered if perhaps they had covered her up too much. Gloria always had stories about the incompetence of nurses. I’m on Gloria’s territory, he thought. He picked up a hand and said, Michela. Michela? He wouldn’t call her Micky. Funny, her hands were quite unscathed. She hadn’t grabbed at anything. She hadn’t tried to save herself. The skin was cool and soft. Not the heavy cold Gloria’s had been.