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She stared at him. So why didn’t you tell me?

He shrugged his shoulders. Why should I?

But this is even weirder. You go and do something completely suicidal and you don’t even tell me. Her hands were shaking with the lighter. He used an old paraffin thing from at least twenty years ago.

It’s suicidal to smoke, he said.

Yeah, I set myself alight and die. It’s different, and you know it.

I didn’t want you to worry about me, he said. You had worries enough with your mother. They gazed at each other across the cabin. The space was lit with a naked, 40—watt bulb. He was cross — legged, swaying slowly backward and forward, smiling softly. He seemed to have regained all the confidence, the slightly mystical impenetrability that had been threatened that evening with Adam. She was on the bed. It’s clear she isn’t a real smoker. She rolls cigarettes because she is with Clive. I go kayaking because I’m with Clive, she thought. She knew that. I say a thousand things Clive says. I share his opinions. Seeing the shake of her hand, she felt her closeness to her mother. It had been a disastrous visit. My hopeless, hopeless mother. I hope you understood, she finally asked, what I meant when I said you must do something serious. Did you? I think you owe it to me.

He seemed to relish the distance that had been established between them. Swaying, he pressed his lips firmly together. Yeah, I understood. He tapped the thin ash of the roll — up into his cupped hand. But I’ve been thinking the same thing myself, for years. Obviously, I have to do something serious.

So what are you going to do? Not just these stupid demonstrations. They do nothing. Or are you just going to start hitting idiots like Adam?

Why are you so aggressive? he asked.

If you don’t understand that then you’re really stupid!

The demonstrations are important, he said calmly. It’s important the world is constantly reminded that there are people who care. You know that. Over the years I think they have a cumulative effect. More than people admit. But, I am thinking of something bigger.

Like what?

I’m working on it.

Like paddling down a grade — five river on your own and getting your spine smashed. You’ll be a photograph on a wet rock. What good is that going to do anyone?

They stared at each other. There was a soft look in his eyes. Suddenly she feels sure that he loves her. Somehow this is worse. He loves her but it makes no difference. You said we would live together and have children. I believed you.

He held her gaze. I meant it, Micky, but this isn’t the world for us. Leave be, now.

What world, then, she demanded. When will there be a world for us? This is the only one we’ve got.

Clive was silent.

She stood up and went to pull on her shoes by the door. You’re weird, she said. I’m going to go out and fuck someone else. Okay?

He sat still, watching and smoking.

I said, okay?

Go.

She walked through the campsite. I’ve lost control now, she decided. Good. At least something would happen. Her mind was feverish. Everywhere there was barbecuing or the clatter of washing — up, or singing, the hum and rhythm of people at ease and pleased with themselves at the end of another day away from home. A curse on them! A young man and woman were arm in arm on the ground by a gas stove. Under her breath Michela began to mutter in Italian. Maledizione! Siate maledetti e stramaledetti!

The scene at the bar was the same as on all the other evenings: the second — rate band with their rhythm machine, the desultory karaoke. At a couple of tables pulled together, Adam and Vince and Mandy were sitting with Tom, Amelia, Caroline, Phil, Brian and Max. Overdoing the English accent, Michela asked, Anybody need topping up? What are you having? She stood behind them, wallet in hand. She has so little money. The kids clamoured for beers and Adam and Mandy tried to deter them. I told your parents no. Let’s say you didn’t see, Phil protested. You thought it was apple juice. We disobeyed you. Like, we’re impossible, aren’t we? Unmanageable.

The tall girl turned to the bar. Vince saw at once that she was excited. Tom stood politely to help her. Michela slipped an arm around his and smiled straight into his eyes. At the bar she switched to Italian and ordered eight beers and a gin and tonic for Max. It was more than she had spent all week. Sounds lovely when you speak Italian, Tom told her. Again she smiled warmly. Want me to teach you a few words, Tommy? Hardly that much time now, he said stolidly. I’m not even going to be with you tomorrow, which is a bit of a bugger. The nights are long, she said coolly. She was purposeful. For a moment she put a hand round his waist. Tom seemed unable to respond. Le notti, she repeated, sono lunghe. Think you can repeat that? Lunghissime.

Back at the table the Italian girl squeezed in between Tom and Brian. Amelia was on Tom’s other side. The children grabbed their beers. Adam was sending messages again. My wife, he explained. Text messages had been the bedridden woman’s salvation. Is Clive not coming out this evening? Amelia enquired. The girl has smelt danger. Mandy was talking to Vince about her son’s motorcycling obsession. Single parents should form a club, she said, for mutual support. Michela had downed her beer in a gulp. I don’t know what Clive’s up to. She looked dazed. Why? Amelia didn’t reply. Phil and Caroline were sharing a cigarette. Hope it rains, the fat girl was giggling. She clearly has a problem with chapped lips. Oh not the mad bell — ringer again! Max laughed. Brian leaned across the table towards Amelia: You know you look like you’ve got three tits. He was referring to Wally. Except the one in the middle is the biggest! Phil shouted. He slapped a hand on the table and laughed. Shut up! Amelia was on the brink of tears. She was chewing a strand of hair. Michela now had a leg pressed against Tom’s. Anyone could see.

Adam stood up and offered to go and fill Michela’s glass. As soon as he set off for the bar, Tom began to talk excitedly. Can anybody really understand why I’m not going tomorrow and Mark is? The young man has a pretty dimple in his chin, a square jaw, high cheekbones. He is handsome, virile and vulnerable. Because Adam’s his dad, Phil said, puffing on his cigarette. Kids! Mandy intervened. The instructors know best on these matters. They can’t take any risks. I’m not a kid, Tom protested. In his ear, Michela whispered, You can say that again. Vince saw her lips move. Her eyes are too shiny. Mark doesn’t even want to go himself, Caroline remarked. He just does it for his dad. Actually, Tom, Max leaned across the table, the real reason for your exclusion is, Mandy’s got the hots for you. She wants to have you all to herself tomorrow. Oh for God’s sake, Max! Mandy was laughing. Then just as Adam returned with the beer, Amelia pushed back her chair. The girl was so abrupt it fell over. Without stopping to right it, she turned and hurried away across the empty dance area. What’s wrong? Melly! Brian dragged himself up and began to hobble after her. Ow! He had to hop. Max got up after him. There was a vigorous flounce to Amelia’s backside as she crossed the brightly lit space. Tom half stood. Michela put a hand on his arm. I’d better go and see what’s going on, Mandy said.

In just a few confused moments, Vince found himself at the table with just Adam, Phil and Caroline. From the corner of an eye he was aware of Michela and Tom standing together on the far side of the dance floor where the bright light of the terrace and the dark of the field beyond seemed to fizz together. The band leader was introducing the next song with weary cheerfulness. What was all that in aid of? Adam asked. His phone beeped the arrival of another message. Vince was conscious of a desire to watch, to follow them even.