Rapids (19 page)

Hey! Micky!
Micky!
Apart fromVince, only Max had seen. What are you doing? This is the get—out. It’s here! Micky! Come back!

Everyone looked. The girl was still well within striking distance. She could still regain the slack water. And in fact she had swung her boat round to face them now, about ten yards down, but drifting rather than paddling. For Christ’s sake, Clive called, get to the bank! Sitting erect, the girl lifted her paddle and tossed it away into the stream.

Vince has never thought of himself as courageous. He is not a man of action. But with no caution now, he veered away from the eddy and set off straight for the girl’s boat. A clamour of voices rose behind him. Vince had no idea what warnings were being shouted. He knew what was waiting if he crossed the water’s horizon line, shimmering in the mist up ahead. But it seemed to him that since she had no paddle he must catch up with the girl before the drop, he would drag her to the side, somehow. Reach forward, was all the voice in his head was shouting. Reach forward! The kayak surged.

Using her hands in the cold water, Michela was keeping her boat turned upstream towards the others. Now she raised her arms, pulled off her helmet and dropped it in the water. She shook the water from her short hair. Vince was almost there. The girl’s drifting kayak began to spin. Grab the sling, he shouted. He released the thing from round his waist. Clip it on! He would tow her. But the girl had put her arms straight down by her sides. Her eyes are closed, Vince saw. It was the concentration of the diver on the high board. She leaned her head away from the approaching rescuer and capsized.

They were only a few yards away from the rapid now. The boom of the rushing water had drowned out any cries behind. Yet to the very brink the river was flat and calm, sliding mud—brown under a bright strip of surface mist. Two ducks flapped up as the red boat tipped over. They raced for the trees. Vince leaned to grab at the upturned hull. There was nothing to hold. He rocked it. She hadn’t pulled out. Now the stream was accelerating. There is no time. Leaning on the hull, he reached right under the water, found an arm and tugged. She wasn’t helping. Her hands were stiffly at her sides.

Quick! He pushed the boat away. For a few moments he back—paddled furiously, but only to get his bearings. He knew he was beyond the point of no return. The capsized hull went over. Turning his head a split second before taking the plunge Vince saw another paddler approaching rapidly. It would be Clive. Then he was on the brink looking down into a chaos of spray and stone. There was no time to choose a line. Relax, a voice sang in his brain. Don’t fight the water.

He fought. What else can you do? For two or three seconds he held his own. He had come over at a good spot. He planted the paddle way out to the left to drag the kayak away from a rock, tried to force it into an eddy as the water crashed between two boulders, failed, then leaned right out again to brace as the boat was dragged down in a deep hole of foam. Suddenly upside down, he rolled up at once. He was careering backwards now. The sight of the flood of water rushing towards him shook what confidence he might still have had. He thrashed the paddle. He was over again. A rock slammed against his helmet.

It was all frenzy now. His knuckles and wrists are scraping on the bottom. A desperate swinging of arms and hips unexpectedly tossed him upright. The boat was thrown against a wall and he was down again, pinned, head under water, the river piling onto his deck. I’ve lost it. Blindly, his fingers felt for the tab. Mustn’t panic. The spraydeck popped but the sheer pressure of the water had him trapped in the boat. He panicked. Yaaaah! Vince screamed away his last breath and every last ounce of energy to force himself out of the boat. Air. I need air. In the flood his knee took a tremendous knock. Boulders and branches rushed by. There was the log they’d seen. He was falling, then abruptly trapped against another rock, arms and legs outspread, stomach crushed on stone. But he had his head above the water. He could think. He found a hand hold. Clinging and slithering and fighting, he pulled himself up onto the round, rugged top of a boulder.

Vince was in the very midst of the torrent. Had anything been broken? Chunks of flesh were gone from his knuckles. Every muscle was trembling. I’m alive, I’m alive. His wetsuit was in shreds at the knee, the leg completely numb. His teeth chattered. His boat was gone. There’s something wrong with my neck. Can I move it. Yes, yes. Just stiff. Then Clive appeared. His yellow kayak shot down the rush from above. The man’s big torso and hands were moving rapidly, the shoulders swaying, the paddle flashing left to right, back and forth. But it was perfectly deliberate, even graceful. Vince saw the bearded face beneath the helmet. Clive! he shouted. Clive! Their eyes met. But there was no acknowledgement from the canoeist. The face was in a trance of concentration and as he slewed the boat around the rock Vince was on, leaning hard on his paddle, Vince saw that a sort of grim smile was playing on Clive’s lips. He plunged down the rush and was gone. Only then did Vince remember the girl. Clive was going after Michela. She must be dead, he thought.

Vince crouched on all fours. It didn’t seem safe to sit. He would have to put his legs in the water. He was afraid it would snatch him away. He was afraid if he stood he might faint and fall. I must wait for the others. How cold it was! He felt sick. How long would they be? I might pass out. They would have to throw him a rope. How will I hold it? Try to stop your body shaking, he ordered himself. Relax. Breathe. Breathe deeply.

The water thundered above and below. Even the foam was brown with mud. What is taking them so long! Then Vince realised that he was happy. He was euphoric. Something has shifted. He smiled. He couldn’t worry about the Italian girl. In a strange flood of emotion, he felt grateful to her. He was weeping. Grateful to his wife too. Gloria gave you this, he whispered. She died and I took her place on this trip.

Still crouching, shaking, he looked at his hands. They were bluish—white. The cold had stopped the bleeding. All the skin on the knuckles of the left hand was gone. He could see a bone. It was uncanny. Vince took hold of the ring on his fourth finger. It hardly pained him now to pull it off. The pale gold lay on the dead white palm and in a gesture he couldn’t understand, he let it fall into the fast brown water.

Oy! Vince! Wake up. Hey, Vince! It turned out they had been shouting at him for ages. Adam was in the brushwood on the bank, about ten feet above the water. Max was beside him. They had secured a line to a tree and were tying themselves to it in case someone should get pulled in. At the third attempt they managed to land a throw—bag directly in Vince’s hands. But his fingers wouldn’t move. He couldn’t tie it. Yelling over the sound of the water, Adam repeated his instructions. Pass an arm through a loop. Now, hold on tight and jump. Vince hesitated. Wrists and knees and feet and neck were all so stiff and numb. Trust me, Adam shouted. Vince looked across at the man. Trust me, do it.

Vince jumped. His head plunged into the dark water, but already strong arms were dragging him across. His face came up. He felt a surge of energy and when his feet banged into the rocks at the edge he was able to use the rope to climb out and up. Michela? he asked. He went down on his knees. Adam was looking at him curiously. I called the ambulance, he said. On the mobile. Max was opening a space blanket. He draped it over the kneeling figure. Wrap it round you. Come on. And he laughed. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to use this. I thought I’d never get my money’s worth.

P
eople had to eat and so they were in a restaurant ordering pizza. Nobody really knew Michela. Had anyone spoken to her, really spoken? Tom had made love to her the night before, but they hadn’t talked. He had talked all week to Amelia. Made love is the wrong expression. She had forced it on him. She had been brash and abrupt, acting a part that wasn’t hers. He knew he was too young to understand. You thought that was what you wanted, then it wasn’t. Now Amelia and Louise both seemed far too young for him. He was eager to confess, but didn’t know whom to speak to. He sat silent and shocked. He felt old.

On the other side of the table, it was hard for Mark not to shout his excitement with the day’s achievement. He has run a wild river. With his father present. He has overcome fear. In other circumstances there would have been a buzz of euphoria. Now high spirits were forbidden. She was definitely alive when they put her in the ambulance, Mandy insisted. The adults took refuge in the technicalities: that Clive had dragged her out of the boat so quickly was the crucial thing, even if it meant swimming the last part of the rapid himself. He had done everything possible. And her being unconscious would actually have helped, Keith thought. The buoyancy aid is designed to keep your mouth out of the water. The guys at the rafting centre had given her mouth—to—mouth as soon as they pulled her ashore. Impossible to know how long she had been without oxygen. But why did she do it? Amelia demanded guiltily. I hate you, she remembered screaming. She hadn’t acknowledged Michela’s apology. She’s so pretty, she protested. So intelligent. They all had the impression that the Italian girl was very intelligent. Never heard a foreigner that spoke English so well, Caroline gave her opinion. I thought she was a happy person, Amal muttered.

Then Adam and Vince arrived from the hospital. The Waterworld group were sitting round one long table in the Meierhof in Sand in Taufers. They had booked of course. The space was large and noisy. It was Saturday night. On the level beneath them, a burly boy with a ponytail was at work beside the pizza oven, while across the restaurant beneath tall pink curtains an improbably old musician, stiff in suit and tie, stood behind a keyboard cranking out the predictable favourites: ‘Santa Lucia’, ‘Lily Marlene’, ‘Spanish Eyes’. She’s in coma, Adam announced solemnly, but stable. Nobody understood whether this was good news or bad. Clive says we’d better leave tomorrow as planned, he added. Vince had his left hand bandaged. There was a dull pain in his hip. Get your orders in, folks, Keith told the new arrivals, or we’ll be here all night. It was ten already. Tomorrow they must drive eight hundred miles.

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.