Meanwhile, the ancient musician, dressed, Vince now understood, like an undertaker, was picking out ‘El Condor Pasa’. His moustached face, that so much resembled the photos of the old men on the tombs in the little churchyard on the hill, was completely impassive. The computerised keyboard added the accompaniment. I’d rather be a hamma sandwich, Max had begun humming, than an escargot! Spearing two bread rolls, he made his knife and fork dance together on a dirty plate. A deer with shabby antlers gazed across the bright glassware. The Chicken Song, Caroline cried, let’s ask the bloke to play the Chicken Song! The fat girl burst into uncontrollable giggles. A stuffed fox bared his teeth. It is too much, Vince whispered.
Rather be a banana than a … a … Phil was tone deaf. Oh shut up! Tom told him. Than a what, may I ask? Max wanted to know. A dildo? Brian suggested. Oh do leave off. Tom seemed livid. He turned to Vince and asked in a low voice: Have you any idea why she did it? There was an explosion of laughter from a group of men drinking schnapps. Obviously locals, they sat with their dark — red cheeks and heavy moustaches mirrored in the shiny black slabs of the windows. The curtains hadn’t been drawn. Never had Vince been so struck by life’s coloured density.
You see, the young man confided, something strange happened last night. He looked around to check that none of the others were listening. Without a flicker of expression, the keyboard player switched to ‘Sweet Little Sixteen’. He was seventy if he was a day. A condom than a bog roll, Phil howled. Kids! Adam said sharply. It was really weird, Tom insisted. Vince tried to pay attention. You mean you and Michela, I suppose? he asked. The young man’s soft eyes were full of anxiety. Did everybody see? Pretty much, Vince said. I feel bad, came Mandy’s voice over the buzz, us going away without even saying goodbye to her! At moments it seemed to Vince he might just fade into all the bright surroundings. Perhaps this is the effect of shock. The earnest Tom was looking hard at him: I mean, it’s so strange her doing that with me and then the next day, well …You see? He’s pleased with himself, Vince realised. He’s dying to tell someone. Trying to close the conversation, he said: She must have been going through a crisis, you know, and whatever happened with you was just part of it. But Tom became more intimate and agitated. You don’t think it’s in any way, I mean, at all, my fault?
Vince drained his beer. A sense of irritation helped him to focus: You certainly ruined Amelia’s holiday, he said abruptly, though actually the girl had her head down beside Brian’s now over a plate of profiteroles they were sharing. The really strange thing, you see, Tom lowered his voice even further, is that she didn’t say a word. You know. Nothing! I felt so stupid. This wasn’t in fact quite true. Over and over Michela had kept repeating something in Italian, fierce words that meant nothing to Tom, as if he wasn’t really there. I mean, if she’d said she was depressed or something …
Kids! Kayakers!
It was Keith’s voice. Standing up, the group leader banged a spoon on the table, then lowered the volume a little when other people in the restaurant looked round. A tampon than a loo — brush, someone whispered. Kids! Keith sighed. Bright with emotion, his eager, glassy eyes looked round the table. Tonight was supposed to be a big celebration, of course. And normally, as you know, I’d have asked everyone to sum up what you thought of the holiday and we could have voted the Wally of the Day and so on. Adam! muttered a voice. Keith half smiled. But that doesn’t really seem appropriate, does it? With what has happened. Now he got silence. In fact— the speaker bit a lip— the truth is we all deserve the Wally award today. Yes. He scratched his beard. The whole point about Wally, when we invented him, was that he goes to someone who’s been careless. They have to protect Wally for the day, and that, that protecting, I mean, that not being careless, is what protects us all. We remember we have to look out for each other. I’m sure those of you who did the upper Aurino today will have seen how important that is. Instead, the fact is that we’ve all been incredibly careless, because nobody realised that one person among us, okay, not really part of our group, but still certainly with us, one person was feeling bad, very bad. To the point that she tried to kill herself, and, doing that, like it or not, she selfishly put the lives of two other members of the group in danger. Clive and above all Vince.
Following the old musician’s arbitrary repertoire, the keyboards had launched into ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’. The schnapps drinkers were roaring. Yet it seemed to Vince, as at certain moments on the river, that there was a deafening silence around the table as Keith delivered this layman’s sermon, at once inescapably true, but embarrassing too, and somehow pointless.
And when you go home now, Keith continued, and inevitably you talk about this, to your mums or dads, or whoever, obviously I want you to make sure they understand that this wasn’t, strictly speaking, a kayaking accident. That’s important. In nearly twenty years of activities, Waterworld have never lost anyone in a kayaking accident. We’ve never even been close. You all know how many precautions we take.
Looking up from an inspection of his bandage, Vince found Adam staring at him diagonally along the table. And his eyes were saying: Today anything could have happened. He has his mobile, Vince saw, lying on the table before him. He’s in touch with his crippled wife. But getting it right on the water, Keith finished lamely, doesn’t let us off looking out for each other in other areas of life. Dead right, Mandy said. She too looked at Vince. Which is the lesson I’d like you all to take away from this trip. Mark, Vince realised now, had his hand on Louise’s leg beneath the table. The boy’s face was radiant.
To close on a more cheerful note, though, Keith’s voice suddenly reverted to its ordinary authoritative jollity, I want to extend my warmest congratulations to Max, Phil and Brian who’ve all earned their four — star awards with flying colours. And special congratulations to Max, who, from what I’ve been told, scored top marks for group awareness and river rescues. Well done, Max! Mandy started to clap. He’s a he — man! Brian shouted into the general applause. A jolly good fellow! To everyone’s surprise, young Max, with lemon shirt and green cravat, had tears in his eyes.
I’ll drive you, Mandy told Vince at the door. You can’t hold a steering wheel with your hand like that. In the restaurant’s small car park the others were piling into the minibus. Two or three couples had decided on a last romantic walk. In the car, the small woman adjusted the driving seat, ran her hands quickly and practically over the controls, found the headlights. Actually, I was just thinking, you’re going to need someone to drive you tomorrow too. It’s over eight hundred miles. When Vince began to object, she said. After all, we live so near each other, don’t we? At the end, I can drop my stuff off at my place, drive you home and just walk back. Again Vince protested that he thought he would be okay by tomorrow. Most of the journey would be motorway with just one hand on the wheel. Mandy didn’t appear to have heard. Louise’ll be wanting to travel in the bus with Mark, I bet, she chuckled. We can have some adult conversation at last. You get fed up with all of this group and kiddie stuff after a week.