It’s the bank holiday. One of our busiest times. The weather has just been getting hotter. Everyone says there has to be a storm soon, that it can’t last. It’s all as per normal down by the river: kids playing, babies crying, people picnicking. There’s the smell of onions from the hotdog stand. I’m wondering whether to go over and get one, and for once I’m not thinking about her, when, suddenly, there she is. All sounds, all other senses recede, as I watch her walk down from the bridge, bag slung over her shoulder. Her skin is brown, as though she has spent the intervening time sunbathing. She’s wearing dark glasses against the sun’s glare and a short dress with thin straps and bright red flowers all over it, made of some silky material that ripples in the breeze coming up from the river. She looks wonderful, mysterious and glamorous but I’m not ready to forgive her, even when she walks up and kisses me on the cheek, just like we are the couple I wanted us to be. She puts her hand on my arm and whispers, ‘Are you for hire?’
‘No,’ I say, trying to keep myself steady. The boat is rocking, water slapping against the side of the dock. ‘If you really want to go on the river, you’ll have to take one of the other boats.’
I load up and push off.
When I get back, she’s still there, waiting. Sitting on a bench, eating an ice cream. Vanilla. It’s her favourite. She doesn’t like other kinds. She always has vanilla.
She comes down to the station to meet me.
‘I’m next in line and I’ve paid my money.’ She steps into the punt. ‘What are you going to do? Throw me out?’
I want to. I think about it. That’s what I should do. But I don’t. We do need to talk and it would be better to go somewhere quiet. It’s way too crowded here. I push away from the bank towards the middle of the river.
‘What do you want, Caro? What are you doing here? Why don’t you leave me alone?’
‘Because I want to talk to you. I don’t want us to finish that way.’
‘What us are you talking about, exactly? I didn’t think there was an us – you’ve made that clear enough. You can’t have everything you want, just because you want it, Caro. When are you going to learn that?’
‘The thing with Rob. It’s not what you think.’
‘Isn’t it? Seems clear to me.’
‘That thing at his house? Just a booty call.’
‘And I’m supposed to put up with that? You going to see him whenever you fancy it? He’s my brother.’
‘It means nothing.’
‘To you, maybe.’
‘It’s different with you. More . . .’ She pauses, trying to find the right word. ‘Meaningful.’
‘Oh, really?’ This is all bullshit and I’m not having any. ‘You could have fooled me.’
‘I never wanted to hurt you, Jamie.’
‘Well, you did. You have. If you’d thought for a month, you couldn’t have done a better job. I really loved you, y’know? And you did that to me.’
‘I don’t do love.’
‘You’ve made that crystal.’
I narrowly miss a dinghy. I’m poling so hard, the punt is moving through the water like it’s turbo-charged.
‘Let’s go to the ait.’ Water is slopping into the shallow craft, splashing her arms. ‘You’ll have us both in the river at this rate.’
‘Not a bad idea.’ I plunge the pole in with a vicious thrust. ‘Perhaps I’ll take us straight over the weir.’
But, of course, I don’t. I land at our usual place.
I moor the boat and follow her through the curtain of willows towards the further island. Her step across the weir is as light as ever, firm and sure. I follow. I hop over the displaced stone, too angry to feel any fear. The river water pools behind it, clear and deep. I remember when we swam there. It’s full of God knows what crap. I must have been mad.
‘What do you want?’
‘I want you back.’
She pulls me to her and we don’t do much talking after that. I hate myself, hate myself, but she’s so close and so near and I can’t resist her. It’s over almost before it has begun. She has her eyes closed, her face turned away from me. It’s always been the same way with her. I realise that now. At the moment when you’re supposed to feel the ultimate togetherness, I end up feeling most alone.
She wants me back, does she? Things are never how you want them to be. I strip off the condom and throw it into the bushes to join the others. Just like the river water – the ait looks clean but it isn’t. It’s full of all kinds of trash: empty cans, faded plastic bags, bleached and wrinkled scraps of paper. It’s not exactly a paradise. It’s a hot day, but suddenly I’ve got gooseflesh creeping over me. I pull on my clothes.
‘Summer’s nearly over,’ she says. ‘It always makes me sad.’
The poplars have that tired, dull green look, the leaves crisping at the edges, and the willows are already turning brown and yellow. The shops in town are full of back-to-school displays. Pencil cases to be replenished, calculators and memory sticks purchased, along with trousers and shirts that no one would be seen dead in and cheap polyester blazers that some poor sods still have to wear. In July, it always seems like the summer will go on for ever. There’s always going to be plenty of time.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asks.
‘I was thinking you’re right. Summer’s nearly over.’ I get to my feet and help her up. ‘We’d better be getting back.’
Out on the river, the water is the colour of gunmetal. The atmosphere is heavy and humid. The clouds banked above the town are slaty purple. The storm is near.
‘Have to hurry if we’re not going to get a soaking.’
Just as I say it, there is a lurid scribble of lightning and the crack of thunder, like a branch breaking. Big drops of rain splash down on the wood of the punt and dimple the water. I pole us back down the river as fast as I can. The other boats are in and Alan is beckoning. A thunderstorm is not a good time to be out on the river.
I help her out. The others are all huddled in the hut, but I don’t invite her to shelter there. She has no coat, or umbrella, but she doesn’t dash for cover – she walks away slowly, her dress clinging to her. Her flimsy, high-heeled sandals wobble on the slippery cobbles. She looks lonely, vulnerable in the rain-swept world. I want to run after her, give her shelter, but I don’t do that. I just watch as she rights herself and continues on her way, up the steps to the bridge.