Where’s Wally? Phil demanded.
Vince couldn’t find the thing. He searched everywhere. He was upset. I can’t believe how seriously you’re taking it, Louise said. It’s only a cheap toy. Mark came to their tent to tell the girl she was supposed to be helping with dinner. The Louts are on. Vince just couldn’t find the stupid puppet. He was sure he had tied it to his cag.
Vincent has lost Wally! Phil shrilled. He ran from tent to tent. Wally missing believed drowned! Re — drowned! Stock market’ll be tumbling, Adam remarked. He was hanging out the wet kit. Wally wasn’t on Vince’s cag, nor in his dry — bag. Enormous fines, the chinless man insisted, shaking his head, smiling wryly, if only to pay the increase in our insurance premium. A grave breach of trust, Max mocked. Unspeakable punishments. There were decades of literature on Wally, Keith said. He was a mythical figure, a patron saint of river communities, the archetypal paddler. Went over Niagara, Mandy joined in. His disappearance presages disaster. Vince looked everywhere. The boat, the minibus, the tent. There’ll have to be a funeral, Amelia announced solemnly. Ask not for whom the bell tolls. Someone who’s lost Wally, Caroline announced, has to buy a substitute and wear it for the rest of his life. She tried to hold a gloomy face, then burst into giggles. It was time to eat spaghetti bolognaise.
We have a new feature on the landscape, Mandy announced as the meal was finishing. Let’s drink to Keith’s Rock, a remarkable underwater geological feature discovered by the Yorkshire man Keith Graham. There was applause, and a toast: To Keith’s Rock! but immediately followed by a chant, from all the children, Where’s Wally, Where’s Wally? They were sitting in a circle on the ground, their plates on their laps. The sun had long since gone behind the mountain beyond the town, but the evening was still bright, the air warm. Then Michela stood up from beside Clive and came round the circle to whisper in Vince’s ear, They’ve stolen it, silly. They’re teasing you.
May I say a word? Vince asked. He cleared his throat. Pigs, Slobs, Louts. He paused. It is with regret that I must inform you that while the eminent discoverer Mr Graham was in hospital after the christening of his remarkable rock, I was unfortunately obliged to go to the police station, to report a, er, serious theft. Indeed a kidnap. Wally, a character, or rather a spirit, a haunting presence, whom we all agree, I think, is the ghostly heart and soul of our commu — nitty, without whom, etc. — Wally, or at least the effigy he is obliged to inhabit following his untimely decease, has been taken from us and is presently being held against his will. Now I must warn you all that the Italian carabinieri, if not the Austrian Polizei, will be arriving in just a few moments to question everyone and search all the tents. The criminals face summary execution. You have just a few seconds to own up.
His daughter, he noticed, was smiling. Then suddenly Wally was flying up in the air in the middle of the circle. The tiny bear wore a small red and white scarf. Who had it? Who stole it? It fell without a bounce beside a stack of dirty plates. Nobody owned up. The creature was awarded then to Max who had forgotten to replace the drain plug in his boat after emptying it at lunchtime and had almost sunk before he realised what the problem was. I shall cherish our patron paddler and protector, he announced, more carefully than has my predecessor. Oh aren’t we affectionate, Brian said. His prede — what? Phil demanded. As on every evening, the boy had returned his food almost untouched.
Serious note now folks, Keith interrupted. Serious announcement to finish the evening. No doubt word has got around that our two illustrious instructors had a bit of a barney yesterday evening. About politics, would you believe? Politics! Brian groaned. What’s that? They’ve made it up, of course, but from now on, the rule is, no discussion of politics for the rest of the trip. Okay? Anyone caught discussing anything that could remotely be considered to be political will be obliged to run round the whole campsite in just their underpants. Yes, please! Max shouted. Oh shut up! What matters here is us, our paddling, learning to help each other, making the group work. Is that clear? Any outside or personal interests, however noble, must be sacrificed to those goals for as long as we’re together. Now, tomorrow will be a half day; we’re going to drive out to a slalom course for the morning and do two or three runs to sort out who will be able to do the tough trip on the last day. Then it’s rest time for the afternoon. You can go into town or take the cable car up to the glacier.
The Pigs were on washing — up duty. Amelia and Tom stood side by side at the big sinks outside the bathrooms. You’ve left a bit, the girl complained. She had tied her hair in a ponytail. It’s a mark on the plate, Tom said. In the plastic, look. They bent their heads over it. No it isn’t. Yes, it is. They nudged elbows and pushed each other and giggled, both clutching the plastic plate. Beneath the inevitable straw hat, Max made faces to Vince. I think I love you, he began to croon, but that’s what life is made of. The boy did an excellent imitation of the hamster’s mechanical movements, imaginary microphone in one hand, drumstick in the other. It’s a manufacturing defect, can’t you see! Tom shouted, but he let the girl hold his wrist. They were tugging, laughing in each other’s eyes. And it worries me to say that I’ve never felt this way. Max dropped his tea towel over their heads. Idiot, Tom yelled, but the economics student seemed perfectly happy with the situation.
Someone tapped Vince on the shoulder. Dad? Louise had put a skirt on, and a short top. She wore earrings. Can I have some money to go to the bar? Just behind her, Mark was hovering nervously, a polite smile on his face. Handing over a note, Vince felt old and disorientated. The Pigs were now occupying three sinks with piles of dirty dishes and the kids doing nothing but fool around. Come on team, he told them, let’s get going and do it properly. Tom. Amelia! Come on now. When Amelia started carrying the plates back to the kitchen tent, Tom suddenly became earnest again and asked Vince how far it was really possible for a government to establish the true volume of the money supply. A professor at LSE had shown them an unbelievably complex calculation. Discovering the exact quantity of the supply was largely irrelevant, Vince said. What mattered was to establish whether it was going up or down, which actually was all too easy. Ooh, I know, Max laughed, I know!
Afterwards, weary of company and conversations, Vince went for a walk around the large campsite on his own. A Jaguar with Dutch plates was parked in front of a luxury caravan. Through the window he glimpsed an elderly couple and, on the table between them, a goldfish in a bowl. He stopped and looked again. Why would anyone drive from Holland with a goldfish? A tiny child on a tricycle circled a waste bin. Somewhere out of view Italian voices were singing to the accompaniment of guitar and accordion, while behind the surface buzz of the site, thunder rolled faintly in the peaks.