Tim Parks: Rapids

You can’t spend the whole summer in a tent.

Why not?

Not at your age.

Go to hell. Now, would you like me to stay or not?

And afterwards? When summer’s over?

I don’t know. I haven’t thought. I want to do something different. I’ve got enough money in the end. I don’t need money. I’ve decided I want to do something different. Work for a cause even. I don’t know.

Not because of me?

Vince hesitated. Maybe partly because of you. Does it matter? I know there can’t be anything serious between us.

Why not?

You’re in love with Clive. He’ll be back in the end. You just said how old I am. And there are thousands of nice young men.

Michela sank back on the bed. She shook her head, then giggled. Funny if he arrived now.

So? Vince asked.

I won’t say, she said. It’s your decision, regardless of me.

But you won’t stop me.

I’ll tell you after you’ve phoned the bank and resigned.

Vince thought about this. Fair enough, he says. I’ll call as soon as someone’s in.

They lay in silence for perhaps five minutes, then Vince got up to go to the loo. He closed the window and let himself out. The night was bright with stars and the gleam of a crescent moon. The glow of the sky made the mountains loom darker. Vince stopped and gazed. Was it that all life until now had been a tired spell, from which he was suddenly released? Or was it this situation that was snatching him from reality? The lights of the bathroom came on as he approached. He emptied his nervous bladder. Or each state was a form of enchantment, worth as much or as little as the other. Every place is its own spell, Vince thought. Walking back, something again forced him to stop and look around. The sheer bulk of the mountains imposes a sense of awe, he thought, looking away to the jagged silhouette of the peaks. I’m impressionable, he decided.

Entering the chalet, he found to his surprise that Michela had fallen asleep. She has invaded his side of the bed. He climbed in and lay beside her. He is cramped. I’ll never sleep. What if Clive had killed himself. It must be so horrible for her. Very lightly, he allowed his fingers to push her short fringe across her forehead. We haven’t really taken this in yet. The skin round the eyes tensed, wrinkled, relaxed again. Michela, he whispered, not to wake her. It is impossible to imagine the girl will ever be his lover. She is playing with me. She likes to mock. To lose such a woman would be terrifying, he thought. Yet, Clive had thrown her away. Clive, Clive, Clive. His mind drifted. You were always awed by men like Clive …

Then, towards dawn, there was a sudden explosive clatter and the door banged open. A hot wind rushed in. Vince is sitting up, rigid, staring. Clive! The man seems appallingly dishevelled, grizzled. Wally is swinging from his neck. Vince, what the hell are you doing here? Vince looks down. The girl is still asleep. Vince can’t open his mouth. He shook his head. We haven’t. It’s not … Clive swung off his backpack and banged it on the floor. He was laughing, a loud, booming laugh. Well, you should have, mate. While you had the chance. And he began stripping off his clothes. He is going to get in the bed too. There is a strange smell in the room, Vince noticed. Rather boldly, he said: So you didn’t blow yourself up, then? Clive stopped. Yes, I did. Of course, I did. Vince stared. What do you think that smell is? It was burning. Clive’s hair is smoking. Wally too. The air is full of ash. Gefahrlich! he shouts. Draussen! His clothes are black. His legs slipping out of his jeans are charred stumps. There is ash on the floor, ash on the bed. You throw a handful of ash in the river and it comes back in clouds. Vince can taste it on his lips. Do you think, Clive laughs, I’d be afraid of blowing myself up? Thrust close to him now, the face is blackened bone around gum — less, grinning teeth.

Vince! For Christ’s sake. His waking eyes met Michela’s. She’s leaning over him. God, I thought you were having a heart attack. Vince breathed deeply. Stupid nightmare, he told her. What about? He collected himself. Nothing. The usual angst. She is on her elbow, smiling. Without thinking, he said, You’re beautiful. I beg your pardon? Beautiful. She laughed: No sooner do you show a man you trust him than the flattery begins! Vince shook his head. I’m sorry, if I woke you. No problem. She resumed a sleeping position, turned her back to him. Then she said softly: I do know you’re only after a nurse for your decrepitude. Yes, I’m ancient, he told her. Like the planet. Well, she was still teasing, I can’t look after both of you.

Vince lay still. Outside the light was brightening. What time was it, five, six? Soon the bells would ring. In just a few hours he would have to make that call. The fact is, she went on, an old guy like you could pop off any minute. I could wake up with a corpse in the bed. He found this too cruel. Don’t worry, I’ll be in the tent tomorrow. Oh I don’t mind, she laughed. Better than a man who sleeps on the floor. After a moment’s silence, thinking of his dream, Vince said: He probably just had a problem with the car or something. I don’t know, a flat tyre. Please, she said. Please. Let’s sleep.

Vince knew he wouldn’t sleep now. Again he found himself looking at her. Above all, the long neck, the soft V of glossy hair growing on the nape. How careful, it suddenly occurs to him, how careful I’ve always been! With what caution his life had been planned, his career. How they had gone back and forth, back and forth over the business of Louise’s school, the possibility of a move to London. Then Gloria was taken. She was there one minute and gone the next. Just the one phone — call. Those thirty seconds of intimacy. I’m so, so sorry, she said. They had blocked out everything that came before. Vince gazed at this white neck, the wonderful pattern of that cropped hair. It is a miracle. Do you think, he asked then in a low voice— do you think it would be crazy of me if I asked if I could hug you? She didn’t reply. She must be sleeping. Michela? he whispered. After thirty seconds or so there came a low chuckle. Sorry, I thought you must be talking to someone else. Well? Hmm. On reflection, yes, I think it would be crazy. The light was growing steadily now, sharpening the angle of her shoulder, colouring her hair. Yes, it would definitely be crazy, Mr Banker. You promised to stop calling me that. Only when I see you’ve phoned the office and resigned. I’m a sceptical modern girl. Hug me, he said then. She lay still. Oh, did you say something? Hug me. Sorry, what was that? Hug me! Just a hug, mind, he added. She turned and all at once her arms are round him, her cheek pressed against his. Vince held the girl quite tightly and waited.