Turn Us Again (32 page)

TWENTY-SIX

F
inally summer school ended, Sam investing the usual absurd amounts of time and worry in correcting papers. Despite the stress, he struggled to remain patient and loving with his family. He got into the habit of asking Madelyn's opinion about some of the papers, asking her to read one paper and then twenty papers later verify whether his marking system was consistent.

“If you're so conscious of the possibility that your marking standards might change, then how could they?”

“Easily. For example, what happens if I start with some weaker papers, and then mark a run of solid papers, followed by another weak one? How can I ensure that my standards haven't wavered, giving the poor bugger following the run of solid papers a worse mark than the first weak papers received?”

So Sam read all the B's out loud to Madelyn, then all the A's.

“Do these two papers both deserve an A? Are they equal in quality?”

“Yes, I think they are. They are both much better than the B papers you read me yesterday.”

“Yes, but the ideas in this paper are more original.”

“The other paper is better written.”

“Are you sure? They both deserve an A?”

“I think they do.”

Sam would totter off to his study happily, leaving Madelyn pleased at his respect for her opinion, all the more intense because she felt like a fool so often.

There were also pleasant hours spent discussing plans for the rest of the summer. Sam had been impressed by the lonely beauty of the Canadian campsites and suggested they take a camping holiday. Madelyn wanted to drive down to California, which enticed Sam (despite the added cost) because they had recently obtained driving licences and bought a tiny, secondhand British car. Sam was inordinately proud of it, and seemed oblivious to the fact that it was dwarfed by the huge cars that everybody else seemed to drive. Madelyn was also pleased to have a car, though she wouldn't have minded a bigger one — Sam's huge head touching the roof of the miniscule vehicle looked odd.

Driving lessons almost disintegrated into hostilities, mainly because they both had the same tester, who passed Madelyn first time around and failed Sam twice.

The first failure was accepted with equilibrium, resulting in detailed analyses of miscalculated parallel parkings. Sometimes benevolent acquaintances (never the same person twice) gave them lessons together, and Madelyn would sit in the back while Sam drove, eyes fastened on the white knuckles of the teacher as he clasped the dashboard in fear. Sam seemed incapable of concentrating on his driving for any length of time and would chat without cessation, pointing out interesting landmarks and turning his head ninety degrees to look at his terrified teacher while the car veered towards the shoulder.

“Watch the road!” the teacher screamed, and Sam's eyes dragged reluctantly to the forefront. As soon as he deemed the condemnatory silence had endured long enough (and could no longer bear the mindless activity of quiet driving), he resumed his chatter, turning his head and looking at his companion for seconds at a time, despite the fact that the teacher's eyes remained fixed on the road.

Third time around the tester passed Sam just to get rid of him, muttering that driving with Sam was taking years off his life. Madelyn then moved into the front seat and took over the teacher's role, watching the road while Sam's massive head swivelled around. Three times he returned from solo trips with new dents in the car.

“A person cut in front of me,” he protested. “People here don't know how to drive at all.” More often, he had no idea how he had got the dent. When Madelyn pointed it out, he'd scratch his head in perplexity.

They set out on their trip enthusiastically, with Gabriel squeezed into the back seat amongst the luggage. Sam bought a rack for the top of the car so they could pile things on the roof, and Madelyn tried to ignore people turning to stare after the little car, chugging along like a mushroom with its huge cap of gear lilting dangerously on the turns.

It was a wonderful holiday. At first they stayed in different campsites across Vancouver Island. The isolation of these huge, beautiful spots never ceased to amaze them after the crowded conditions in England. Often, they were the only people staying at the campsite, and Sam and Gabriel indulged in after-dinner screaming competitions, just because it was so delightful.

When they arrived at a new campsite, it became Madelyn's task to unpack, sort out the food, erect the tent and lay out the sleeping bags. Meanwhile, Sam cut wood for the fire. He loved doing this with a passion, claiming it made him feel primitive and at one with nature.

The tent was a patched, floorless affair of thick green canvas that maintained a peculiar smell even after days of airing in the sun and wind. Madelyn gathered pine needles to cushion their bed and alleviate the odour, resisting Sam's suggestion that she may as well gather firewood for him to chop while she was about it. They had little mats and thick sleeping bags and were cosy enough snuggled up together.

Every morning Sam disappeared for a few hours — walking and swimming, while Gabriel and Madelyn compiled collections of shells or made fairy houses among the trees, complete with pine cone sofas and pebble beds.

After lunch Sam looked after Gabriel while Madelyn escaped for a few hours. She loved to walk, though she didn't quite dare to swim alone. The wildness of the places suggested the presence of animals watching her invisibly, and the water's murky depths no doubt contained its share of eels, leeches and other strange creatures. The glorious scenery made walking sufficient pleasure, with masses of huge old trees in the wild greenness and just enough danger to make one start at rustling noises, and then laugh at a squirrel leaping up a tree.

In the evenings they ate from a variety of cans and fruit that they picked up en route from one campsite to the next. Madelyn and Sam sat up long after Gabriel was in bed, drinking and smoking and feeling happy.

One day during the first week Madelyn noticed that Gabriel was covered in angry red spots and bumps, which he scratched furiously.

“I think it's chicken pox, Sam, but it does seem to be a rather vicious outbreak. Do stop scratching, Gabriel dear, it just makes it worse.”

Gabriel desisted for at least two seconds and then succumbed to a frenzy of rubbing.

“I think we should have a doctor check him.”

Sam lay back. “I seem to have a few red spots as well. Maybe you should drive into town by yourself. I wouldn't want to exacerbate my condition by over-exertion.”

It took all morning to drive into town and find a doctor, but Gabriel's spirits did not seem affected by the red spots. Indeed he seemed more ravenous than usual. Madelyn was bewildered by this lack of symptoms and prepared to hobnob with the doctor for quite some time until they figured out what the strange ailment might be.

The doctor blew angry snorts through his nose as he pulled off different articles of clothing, revealing more and more spots.

“The poor child is covered. This is outrageous!”

Madelyn smiled with a trace of contempt. These Canadians didn't know how to use words. “Yes, it is a nasty outbreak. Do you think it might be an allergic reaction of some kind?”

The doctor looked at her in amazement. “An allergic reaction? If this kid was allergic to mosquitoes he'd be dead by now.”

Madelyn smiled with puzzlement. “I wasn't thinking of an allergy to mosquitoes. Perhaps to some type of tree or vegetation, since we're camping in the wild?”

“These are mosquito bites. Your child is covered with mosquito bites. I have never seen such … negligence.”

“I beg your pardon! I'm not from here and I don't know anything about mosquitoes. If you give me something to repel them, you can be sure I'll use it every day.”

The doctor looked at her as if he didn't believe her, which was infuriating. Madelyn soothed herself and Gabriel with a nice hot meal of baked ham and salad in a local restaurant before heading back.

“Mosquitoes?” said Sam, “So that's what was biting me. I'll have some of that ointment you got for Gabriel, if I may.”

After a couple of weeks of camping they headed towards California. Sam didn't realize it was so far, or he wouldn't have agreed to go. They drove on and on — the road was never-ending. Sam drove in the morning, when he was fresh. By the time his driving shift was finished Madelyn was already exhausted from entertaining Gabriel and the stress of watching the road, clenching her hands around an imaginary wheel and pressing her foot on the brakeless floor.

“There's a car coming,” she would say when it was necessary in order to avoid an accident. So long as she kept her voice very quiet and calm, and it was blatantly evident that their lives had been saved by her intervention, all was well. Otherwise Sam would bawl, “I'm the driver, aren't I?”

They'd stop for lunch at the first little town that materialized at the appropriate time, and Sam would force them to walk up and down the streets for ages, trying to find the cheapest restaurant.

Madelyn drove in the afternoons, exhausted from the tension of Sam's awful driving, the long walk and the heavy lunches, while Gabriel and Sam slept. In the evenings they found a campsite. It was also delightful to meet other people at the campgrounds. Everyone was friendly, and they often ended up sitting at one campfire or another, drinking and listening to travel anecdotes. One couple taught them how to cook marshmallows over the fire. Sam thought they tasted disgusting, but Gabriel loved them.

The marshmallow couple joined them on the beach the next day, waving in a friendly fashion and crossing a huge expanse of empty beach in order to sit beside them.

“That's the problem with people,” Sam stage-whispered in the direction of Madelyn's frozen, welcoming smile, “you feel like a chat for a few minutes one day and you're condemned to spend the next twenty-four hours with them.”

He lay down and put his book over his face, while Madelyn stood up to provide a welcome over her comatose husband.

They came and sat. People tend to do what they are inclined to do. Besides, who could imagine that yesterday's expansive English gentleman would metamorphose into a grouch overnight?

“Why doesn't your little boy swim?” they asked Madelyn.

“He doesn't know how. I would like to teach him but I think I'll start in a swimming pool.”

“Oh no, it's nicer learning in a place like this. We have just the thing,” and the man disappeared in the direction of his campsite, returning a few minutes later with a huge rubber ducky.

“See here, son. This ducky won't let you drown — just hold it all the time in the water.”

Gabriel emitted squeals of joy and rushed down to the water with his ducky. Sam took the book off his face to watch him leap about.

“Do you think there are jelly fish or anything that could hurt him?” Madelyn asked.

“Don't you worry so much, honey. I know that's like telling a cat not to hunt. First children always make the mother anxious.”

A discussion of how attitudes change with subsequent children ensued, while Madelyn tried to keep an unobtrusive eye on her son.

“Sam! I think Gabriel's in trouble! Swim out to him!”

Everybody's eyes turned to Gabriel, now flailing the water with both hands, the rubber ducky drifting away.

“Quick Sam! He can't swim.”

Sam and the man rushed down to the water's edge and plunged into the water, swimming towards Gabriel. A few minutes later they emerged, the man half-carrying a coughing Gabriel and Sam clutching the rubber ducky, which he waved triumphantly in the air as they approached the women.

Madelyn dissolved into hysterics on the beach. The kind American woman thought she was crying and patted her back in a motherly fashion. “Now honey, everything's A-OK.”

Madelyn lifted up her streaming face, and they saw she was laughing. “That is so like my dear husband,” she gasped. “Such incompetence!”

Sam frowned uncertainly. “This gentleman is a much better swimmer than I am, Mummy. It was obvious he was going to get to Gabriel first.”

There was a silence, while Madelyn buried her nose into Gabriel's wet hair and tried to stifle her hilarity. Gradually, Sam's face relaxed into a smile. “I managed to save the ducky.”

One night they stayed in an atmospheric redwood park by the river.

“I can almost feel the red men paddling down the river,” Sam said.

“I hope they had more protection against the rain than we do. It's supposed to pour buckets tonight.”

“I'm sure we'll be fine in this excellent tent I bought for you.”

They woke up in the middle of the night with their feet in pools of water. Emerging like wet rats, they formulated the vague intention of begging shelter from one of the families they had met the evening before. However, the campsite was deserted. Everyone had cleared out as soon as the deluge began. Sam and Madelyn packed everything wetly up and drove to Oregon, rivulets of water streaming down the windshield from the soaking sleeping bags and tent piled on top of their mushroom car. They couldn't even tell when the rain stopped.