*
He walks down the tarmac to the bridge, which hangs suspended high above the water, a strange grey arch against the starry sky. The road takes a long curve and Danny climbs up a steep path worn into the grass, with ferns on either side. At the top, he pulls himself over the railing and stands in the middle of the bridge. There’s a campsite on the other side. Silhouettes of tents and caravans run down to the riverbank. Lights are on in a few of the tents and he can see shadows moving around inside them.
He goes down to the riverbank opposite the campsite, where the water babbles softly. Downstream, it foams and hisses over the stones. He walks over rough pebbles to the bank and sits down on a big rock. He sits there for a long time, just watching and listening. Then he hears a sound on the other side of the water. Feet crunching on pebbles. Against the backdrop of the tents and the caravans, he can see a fragile figure. A woman. She has a bath towel around her shoulders. She’s walking gingerly, in a straight line, down to the water. Her back is bent. When she reaches the river, she lays the towel on the stones. She puts on a swimming cap and walks into the water, still tucking long strands of hair into her cap. After just a couple of steps, the water comes up to her knees. She bends down, splashes it onto her arms and chest, takes another few steps and plunges into the water. She swims into the darkness and soon reaches the middle of the river. Her swimming cap bobs on the water, a patch of grey. She turns onto her back and swims against the current, stays floating in almost the same spot. Hands at her sides, her legs kicking slowly, confidently.
After a while, the woman turns onto her stomach and swims in his direction. She reaches the riverbank with just a few powerful strokes. She rises up out of the water and steps over the shingle, keeping the same calm pace, heading for the rock. When she sees him, she stops.
Je ne t’avais pas vu, she says.
Pardon?
Tu ne parles pas français?
No.
Anglais?
Yes, he says, standing up.
Non, non, the woman says. She gestures that he should stay where he is, but Danny steps away from the rock and says in English: Sit down. Please. He points at the rock. The woman hesitates and then sits down.
Merci.
Only now does he notice how old and frail and thin her legs are. There are flowers in the pattern on her swimsuit.
I swim every night, she says. Now that they’ve exchanged a few words, she’s speaking more slowly. She has to think about her English. She brings her hands together in front of her chest and then holds them to her cheeks.
He crouches beside her, his eyes fixed on the river.
Always this late?
Oui. In the dark, before I go to sleep.
Aren’t you cold?
Oh, no. I always have a little rest here. I watch the river and after a while I go back. The river is beautiful at night. Calm.
He nods.
You can think, she says. When you sit here, you can think.
He nods again.
I have a little house there, on the other side. I come here every summer. Forty years now.
Forty years, he thinks.
She dries her legs. And I still swim. I hope I can keep on swimming for a long time.
Hmm.
Are you staying at the campsite?
No. We’re just stopping for the night.
Are you here with your girlfriend?
In spite of the darkness, he can make out her eyes. Lively old eyes that gleam in the faint light of the stars. He shakes his head. The woman looks at him and he can tell from the way she says she’s sorry that she knows his girlfriend is no longer his girlfriend.
She looks at the water and smiles, a smile meant only for herself.
I met the love of my life in this place.
At the campsite?
Non. Here by the river. The woman shivers. She places her hands on the rock. I was swimming and he walked by. That’s how we met. What about you? Who are you travelling with? A friend?
He hesitates for a moment. Yes.
That’s good.
He nods.
Nice speaking to you.
She stands up and walks back to the water.
What about your husband? Is he here too?
She turns around, takes a step towards him and says: No, he’s not. He was my first love, a whole summer long, but after that summer he went back to Paris. That’s where he lived. I never saw him again.
Never?
Never. Not a letter, not a postcard. Nothing. But I return here every year.
Her eyes sparkle against the dark sky, as though there’s moonlight reflected in them, but there is no moon. Her eyes are sparkling all by themselves.
She says good night to him and walks to the water. He hears the quiet splashing of her feet. She lowers herself into the water, calmly swims to the opposite bank, steps out of the river, crosses the shingle to her towel and walks through the dark campsite with it wrapped around her shoulders. Her shadow disappears among the tents.
He sits there for a long time, listening to the gentle gurgling of the river. For a moment, he thinks he can hear the sound of the swimmer, but the river is dark and empty. He stands up and looks at the rock. He bends down, puts his hands around it, shifts them, wraps his forearms around the rock and tries to lift it. It doesn’t budge.
*
On the way back, the bridge proves an obstacle. When he gets to the top, he looks down the river to where Robert should be. He can’t see anything, not even the glow of the fire. He walks along the parapet and, when he spots the path between the dark ferns, he climbs over the railing and heads back down. Long grass brushes against his trousers. He reaches the road and sees two headlights approaching. He lets the car go by and then starts walking along the tarmac. Before long, he reaches the picnic table. The fire’s died down to an orange glow, hidden in the earth. Robert’s sitting with his back against the table, his legs out in front of him. When he hears Danny, he turns around.
You’ve been gone a while.
Danny sits down in the same place as before. Beside the jumper. He can smell fish. There are two tins on the table. One of them is open, its lid bent upwards. A small fork is sticking up out of it. The tin opener is lying beside a piece of baguette.
Robert turns around, pushes a cup over to him. Danny drinks. The whisky takes his breath away.
Someone was out there swimming, he says.
At this time of night?
Yes, a woman.
That’s why you were gone so long. Robert says with a laugh. Peeping Tom.
It was an old woman.
That doesn’t matter, says Robert. Kim Wilde’s getting on a bit too.
It wasn’t her.
No, that’d be something, eh?
It was a French woman.
Ah, une française.
Yeah, whatever.
Robert pushes the open tin to the middle of the table. Want some fish?
Tuna in tomato sauce. Danny identifies a pea in the mush. No, he says.
Robert picks up the tin, has a few mouthfuls, and puts the fork down on the table. He shakes his head and chuckles: Kim Wilde. She really was something.
Danny nods.
You ever seen the video for ‘Cambodia’?
Don’t think so.
It begins with her tossing around in bed and, if that’s not enough, she goes off and starts crawling through the jungle. That bit’s really great. She’s down on the ground and she just keeps looking at you. With those eyes, you know.
Danny looks at him.
Robert laughs. That was a really great video.
Really great, Danny echoes coolly. He thinks about her and he thinks about Cambodia.
They sit there for a while and a dog comes running up to the table. It sniffs at Robert’s leg.
Sod off, he says, pushing the dog away.
The dog walks around the picnic table to Danny, who holds out his hand. It’s a big old black sheepdog with a friendly face. It
pushes its shoulder against Danny’s leg and licks his hand. Robert watches. Can’t stand them, he says. Dogs. Specially not big ones like that.
The dog lies down in the grass at Danny’s feet. He strokes the dog’s head and its back and as he runs his hand through the long fur he looks at the road to see if the dog’s owner is coming. He can’t see or hear anything. He strokes the dog. Its stomach is warm and its legs are wet. It’s been in the river. He talks to it quietly.
It’s a French dog, says Robert. It can’t understand a word you’re saying.
Dogs understand everything.
Robert bends down and looks under the table at the dog. Seems to like it here, he says. I don’t know what it is with these creatures, but they’re so dumb. It’s humans who have made them that way.
They need people.
Exactly, says Robert.
Danny rubs the dog’s head.
And obedient, says Robert. I think that’s what gets me the most. They’re so damned obedient. Chasing after balls, fetching sticks.
He gave you a fright though, didn’t he? Suddenly standing there beside you.
Don’t you speak too soon. Let’s see what you do when those bulls are coming.
The dog hears something. It lifts its head and then lies back down.
Dozy creature, Robert mumbles. He scratches behind his ear and his earring twitches and gleams dimly in the candlelight.
In the distance, they hear a man shout something in French. The dog sits and pricks up its ears. The voice shouts again in the distance. Danny looks at the river, but there’s nothing to see. He pats the dog and says: Go on. Go and find your owner.
Another shout and Danny taps the dog on the back. It walks towards the river, disappearing into the darkness. Soon he hears it barking and, a little later, there’s a series of gunshots.
Hunters, says Robert. He spits on the grass. Getting a dog to do their dirty work, he says. It’s cruelty to animals.
You go fishing, don’t you?
Not with a gun.
Danny expects to hear more gunshots, but the night is silent. It’s colder now. He pulls over the jar with the candle in it, cradles it in his hands.
Why don’t you put on that jumper?
Danny takes the jumper and pulls it over his head. It has a big collar with a zip. He does up the zip and folds down the collar. Robert blinks and nods approvingly.
*
He was standing at the door of the boxing school, waiting for Ron. He watched the cars and bicycles passing the building and the people walking along the pavement on the other side of the road. He stood at the door for a long time. He paced to the corner of the building and back again. Ron came down the street and raised his hand. He was carrying a sports bag in his other hand.
Thought you’d be here earlier.
Yeah, that was the idea.
Lot of traffic?
Yeah, that was it.
They headed inside and got changed. Danny opened the door for Ron and they walked to the lockers together. They said hello to a young trainer called Khalid, who was working with a group of boys. All of the children had dark hair except for one red-headed boy. They were standing in a row with their fists up to their faces. The boys all looked over at Danny.
Hey, I’m over here, said Khalid. The boys looked back at their trainer. Ron went over to the punch bag in the far corner, put his hand on it, gave it a gentle push, waited for it to swing back and said: Just the usual routine, mate?
They warmed up and Danny did the same exercises he’d done with Pavel, but not as many and not at the same pace. Halfway through the session, he looked at Ron. Ron nodded to say that everything was fine.
After an hour, they sat down on the bench for a rest. The boys had got changed and then stood in the doorway watching for a while. Now they shyly came down the steps towards Danny.
Are you fighting in another competition? asked a boy with short dark hair. The biggest and the heaviest of the young boxers, he was squeezed into a red T-shirt with the name of the boxing school on it.
Yes, Danny replied.
Who you fighting?
An Argentinean. He’s called Ramos.
Is he any good?
Of course he is.
The boy thought about this. Then he said: I think you’re going to win.
Thank you.
One of the other boys said: I think so too.
Now run along home, said Ron. Tell your dads you have to pay by the end of next month. And your mums.
The boy with the short dark hair held his fist out to Danny and Danny bumped it with his own. The others copied him.
They trained for about another half hour after that. When the bell went for the last time, Ron pushed the button on the timer, fetched a bottle of water from his bag, had a drink and passed the bottle to Danny.
I’m done in, he said.
Danny poured the water into his mouth through the sports cap. He held his hand under his chin to catch the water that missed his mouth and then splashed it over his face.
What do you think?
Nothing. Too shagged to think, said Ron.
They went out into the corridor. As they reached the changing room, the outside door opened and someone pushed a bike inside. The handlebars got stuck on the door handle and it took a while to free it. It was Ragna. Ron went and held the door open for her. She leant her bike against the wall.
Already finished?
We’re going to carry on in a bit, when the others get here.
Okay, she said. I was just passing.
We don’t usually let anyone watch, said Ron. He went off to the toilet. She pointed at her bike and said to Danny: My lock’s broken.
Danny could feel the cold from outside. He looked at Ragna. She was wearing dark red lipstick.
Did it go well? The training?
Yes, he said.
Her mouth changed and so did her expression. It felt like ages before she said: I’ll come in the afternoon next time.
She fetched her bike. Danny held the door open and she disappeared outside. He waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps and then let the door close with a bang.
Isn’t she staying? Ron said when he came back.
Not if you’re going to talk to her like that.
Like what?
Yeah, said Danny. Like what?
They drank water and when the other boxers got there they trained with them for a while. After the session, Danny pulled off his T-shirt, took his towel out of his bag and went to the showers. He turned on the taps. He took off his underpants, hung them on a heating pipe, gave the cold tap another twist and stood under the shower. The water was hot. He washed his hair. Then he held his face beneath the pulsating stream, closed his eyes and put his hands over his face.
As he was drying himself, he heard Ron talking to someone. He went back into the changing room and found Ron dressed and sitting on the bench with Aaron. The two men fell silent when they saw him.
Don’t let me disturb you, Danny said.
Neither of them replied.
Danny got dressed and they headed outside together. Aaron cycled off and Danny walked with Ron to the tram stop. They waited in the shelter.
You really want to win this fight, don’t you, mate?
Yeah.
The tram was approaching in the distance. Ron switched his bag over and shook Danny’s hand. See you tomorrow.
Yeah, tomorrow.
I’ll be on time.
Danny smiled. I’ll hold you to that.
Ron turned away.
What was all that about just now? said Danny. That little chat with Aaron?
Nothing.
Ron stood there in silence, just looking down the tramline. You see the way she was looking at you?
What about it?
That’s the way women usually look at Sando. Just before they ask if his knob’s really as big as they’ve heard.
Piss off.
Danny turned away. So she works for V
aron? he heard Ron say.
Yes.
Since when?
I don’t know.
Ron sighed. He tilted his head. Two black guys came and stood beside them. Then they looked at Danny and moved to the next shelter. The tram reached the stop and the doors opened.
She been round before? said Ron. He was standing on the step of the tram, holding onto the pole.
Once.
What a bloody mess.
What do you mean?
Ron looked at him.
What do you mean, man?
Before Ron could answer, the tram doors slid shut.
*
Above the gentle noise of the river comes the occasional crack of a plastic cup, the glug of a bottle, the sound of Robert putting the bottle back on the table and slurping his whisky.
Danny lets Robert pour him a drink. The whisky warms him and makes his thoughts flow smoothly. He says: You sleeping in the car?
There’s room for two. Or would you prefer to sleep outside?
I don’t know.
It could get cold, says Robert. He hesitates. You’re not scared to sleep in the car, are you?
A cold breeze blows across the small of his back. He tugs down the jumper.
I’m not scared.
Or would you rather snuggle up under the sheets with that old biddy?
What old biddy?
The one who was swimming.
No way.
Robert rubs his forehead. Then he blinks at Danny and says: If you want to sleep under a tree somewhere, go right ahead.
Robert stands up and walks over to the car. Danny rests his head on the tabletop and thinks about the bulls. The breeze blows through the grass, accompanied by a quiet humming. Robert repeats the tune three times. Then he comes back to the table and hands Danny a rolled-up mat. Here, he says, you can sleep on this. I’ll go and get you a blanket.
Robert bangs and clatters around in the back of the car and comes back with an old blanket and a torch. He turns on the torch and a powerful beam illuminates the riverbank and part of the river. The water splashes and sparkles in the light.
You could use that to catch rabbits, he says, putting the torch on the table. The wood lights up. Something for that pheasant shooter, he adds.
Tomorrow Pamplona Page 7