Now he banged again on the hull. Another boat must have followed him. Clive was turning it over. He sensed noise and laughter and people scrambling out of the water. He was underneath, unseen, shut away. If he’d come in with his paddle he could have rolled up. But he hasn’t. People can’t hear, they can’t see. I could die, he suddenly thought. He started to claw with his fingers, trying to pull the elastic from the cockpit rim to expose the tab and pull the deck. Nothing. Did they imagine he was showing off staying under so long? He put both hands on the cockpit, tried to pull his knees to his chest to force the deck off. It wouldn’t pop. They are made not to pop. It is new and stiff and tight. Then he threw himself violently from side to side, twisting his head for air, shouting into the water, banging on the side of the boat. There was splashing all around. Firm hands grasped him and turned the boat. As he came up, blue — faced, he was looking straight into Adam’s grey eyes. The man was shaking his head like some disappointed schoolmaster.
Wally! his daughter yelled. Dad’s going to be Wally tonight!
What a fool! Vince shouted. He was furious. I’m such a fool! Damn and damn. He was taken aback by the violence of his own reaction. The youngsters were watching him. Respect, someone said.
Holding his boat on the other side, Michela said quietly, Better in fun than when it’s for real. This was another thing that came from Clive.
The sun was hot, as it had been all summer. They used the slack of the meander to get used to the boats and paddles. Clive had bought good paddles of a new nylon material, light and fast. Altogether it was a big investment. The instructors checked that everybody could roll. Capsize, kids. Go for it. Only Tom had difficulty. It was strange that such a strong, apparently expert boy should be the one to fail. In his eagerness to breathe, he tried to bring his head up too soon. Your head is the last part to come up, Keith repeated. But everybody knows this. Amelia and Louise stationed their boats beside his and gave advice. Tom is so handsome, a slim, straight, powerful young man with a good jaw, deep eyes. He tried again. His head struggled out of the water too soon and sank back. Amelia prodded her boat against the red hull. Tom felt for the bow and pulled himself upright holding that. His strong torso came up, dripping water, his fine face clouded with annoyance. Don’t worry, Louise chirped. It took me ages.
Meantime the younger boys were turning their boats over and over in every possible way. Phil capsized, passed his paddle from one hand to the other over the bottom of the boat, head under water, then rolled up. All the time he was chewing gum. Can you do a helicopter roll, Bri? A reverse screw roll? Mark, Adam’s quiet son, seemed particularly expert. Look at this one, Dad. He rolled up with the paddle behind his head. Adam watched. Anyone can do that kind of thing in calm water, he said soberly. In calm water anyone can be an expert. Amelia knew how to roll her boat with just her hands, no paddle. You sort of sway your body, like, from one side right to the other, she explained to Vince. He shook his head. It seemed impossible. I don’t panic, Tom repeated to Keith. Really I don’t. I used to be able to do it. Swimming away from his boat, his young manliness seemed to be deserting him.
The kayaks spread out across the meander, tipping over and popping up.
What about the other side, Clive approached Vince.
Sorry?
Can you roll the other way round, with your paddle on the other side?
Never tried. As soon as Vince was alone, his mind lapsed back, not so much into thought, but a sort of intense, wordless inner paralysis. There are moments, Clive explained, in white water when it’s only possible to come up on one side of the boat, because of the current, or you’re stuck against a rock maybe. Vince tried it. He tipped over. Under water, instead of thrusting the right hand forward and across to his left side he did the reverse. His paddle felt for the surface. He pushed the arms far up and away towards a glow of daylight. It is strange how different it feels making a movement you know well, but with the other side of the body. He is disorientated. Like writing with the left hand. Or walking arm in arm with someone you’re not used to. Concentrating, upside down in the glacier — fed water, he pulled the left arm through a wide arc and leaned his head back. To his surprise the boat turned, his body came up. For a moment it stopped, it seemed he might fall back. Vince thrashed with his paddle and suddenly he was upright. He felt proud. He had done the right thing to come on this holiday. Clive was sceptical. See if you can do that in turbulence, he said.
They picnicked. On the bank people peeled off closed smock jackets with tightly sealing rubber cuffs and necks. Everybody has strips of neoprene hanging off them, or wet T — shirts, or towels round their necks. It is uncomfortable. At the back of the Kent County Council van where the sandwiches have been stored, Vince found himself beside Michela. There are cheese sandwiches and crisps and melting chocolate, bottles of water. To his surprise, the Italian girl came to sit beside him on the grass. She had pulled down the top of her wetsuit so that the shoulder — straps hung round her thighs. Vince felt vaguely embarrassed by the thought that his daughter would see them sitting together. But this was ridiculous because now all the adults came to eat in one group, the adolescents in another. Your daughter is relieved to be out of your company, he thought. I am relieved too. They would never live together again.
Clive said how hard it was to predict river levels with this global warming. The glaciers retreated each year. The hot weather came too soon. This summer more than ever. The full melt was on you before you expected it. By now they were paddling on the snows of centuries back, the blizzards of the Middle Ages. There were more thunderstorms, perhaps, but less of the same steady release of the winter’s snow. The river could be bony or even dry before you knew it. It’s amazing they do nothing about the greenhouse effect, he went on. What was the temperature in Milan during the demonstration the other day? Thirty — six degrees? Thirty — eight? No wonder people went crazy.
He was sitting on a rock beside Michela. She leaned her back against him. I can’t believe, he insisted, how enthusiastic they are when car sales are up. Keith nodded, eating. The world cooks and dries up and they worry about car sales! There was a silence. Mandy was rubbing sun cream into her shoulders. I should take a picture, she said. You wonder, Clive went on, if they will ever really open their eyes before something major simply forces them to.
Like what, Adam asked coolly.
A drought, Michela said at once. A flood.
Well, which? He had a wry smile.
Vince was not following. His eye had again been drawn upward to the hugeness of the mountains above them. The majesty of the place was crushing. It appeased some obscure desire in him. At the same time he was intensely aware of the young woman, of the fact that her belligerence now, saying something about multinationals, was to do with her being together with this bearded instructor, this strong capable man. Suddenly, he was stumbling to his feet.
We’ve bored Vince to death, Keith said.
Hearing his name, he managed to turn. He shook his head. Not at all. He tried to smile. Just need to cool my feet in the water. He had kept his wetsuit on.
The climate changes anyhow, Adam was saying. This whole thing is being exploited by people who have an axe to grind and time on their hands.