Rapids Read Online Free Page A

something.
    Michela waited. Clive continued to potter about the room. Now he was sorting out clothes. This isn’t the right world, Micky, he eventually told her. Not for us. He had found his sleeping bag in the big cupboard. Be strong, he said. Squatting, he unrolled it on the floor. She sat on the bed and stared. They had been lovers for two years. What are you doing? she demanded. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, he said. His voice was low and tired. We can’t sleep together anymore.
    She sat still. He was fiddling with the zip on the bag. Bastard thing! It had snagged. He wouldn’t look up. What did I do? she asked. Her voice quavered. What’s happening? Clive wouldn’t speak. He had coaxed the zip past its snag. Slowly, as if he were squeezing into a new kayak, he sat down on the floor and put one leg after another into the sleeping bag. You hit the light, he said. The switch was just above the bedside table. Michela threw back the bedclothes and stood to grab a dressing gown hanging from the door. She pulled the waistband tight. What ‘ave I done? There was an edge of disbelief in her voice. She felt sick. What in the name of God ‘ave I done? She was standing over him. He lay face up, but his eyes were fixed on the ceiling. Nothing, he said. It’s me. You haven’t done anything. Look, don’t worry, Micky. Everything will be just the same, the kayaking and the camp and the money and so on. But this isn’t the world for us.
    Don’t slam the door! Vince stopped the car. It would wake people, he said. The need to respect others seemed to have snapped the driver out of his unhappy reverie. He let the car roll along the dirt track, passenger door still open. Louise trotted beside, making little forays among the pitches to check the vans for the Waterworld logo. It was almost two a. m. The autostrada had been jammed for hours. The sleeping campsite was illuminated only by the neon glow from the bathroom block. Everything was tied down and zipped up. Where are they? Louise rushed off between two tents again. Sweeping slowly round the corner at the bottom of the site, the car’s headlights picked out a slim figure in silhouette sitting beneath a pine, back bent, face in hands. Vince touched the brake and the passenger door swung forward.
    If he leaned back a little, he saw a head of dark hair framed against bushes.
Mi scusi,
he began. Dad! Louise came running, then tripped and fell heavily. Vince climbed out. Don’t yell! They’re over there! The girl was dusting herself off.
    Are you looking for the English kayak group? The seated figure had got to her feet now. A young woman offered a wan smile of welcome. I’ll show you to your pitch.
    Vince parked beside a screen of trees that sloped steeply down to darkness. The night was quiet, but you had a distinct impression of the proximity of moving water, of a strong pull beneath the stillness of the branches. They haven’t left you much room, Michela apologised. Heaving out their camping stuff, Louise tripped again. A torch shone out through orange nylon beside them: If this tent collapses, a posh voice announced, you’ll hear from my lawyer!
    Vince was surprised that the young woman appeared to be staying to help. You weren’t waiting up for us, I hope? he said in a whisper. But Louise had the giggles now, trying to sort out tangled guy—ropes. Maximilian, or perhaps it was Brian, was making an obscene shadow play with torch and fingers on the tent wall.
    Kids! Don’t wake everyone up, Vince hissed.
    I’m Michela, the woman said. I’m responsible for arranging things this end. But please call me Micky.
    Oh come on Dad! Louise was laughing helplessly. We’re on holiday! The girl’s solid body had turned to jelly. We’re supposed to be having fun. She laughed madly.
    Michela took the guy—ropes from the younger girl’s hand and untangled them. She seemed to know exactly how their tent was to be put up. The ground’s too hard to push the pegs in with