Fillets of Plaice, by Gerald Durrell (2 page)

“What on earth are you doing?” I asked. “You know Mother doesn't want that moved.”

“Now, you shut up and don't interfere,” said Leslie. “We've got everything under control.”

“Just go
away
,” said Larry. “Go
away
and don't get in the way. Why don't you go down to the jetty and see whether the benzina's come?”

I left them sweating and heaving on the giant ice-box and made my way down the hillside, across the road and onto our jetty. Standing at the end of it, I peered hopefully out towards the town of Corfu and there, sure enough, heading along the coast, came a benzina. I watched it as it drew closer and closer and wondered why it didn't come in to shore towards the jetty. It was quite obvious that it was going to go straight past. Spiro, I thought, couldn't have given the right instructions. I jumped up and down on the end of the jetty and waved my arms and shouted, and eventually I attracted the attention of the man in the boat.

In a leisurely fashion he turned the benzina's nose in and brought it up to the jetty, flung his anchor over the back and let the nose of the boat bump gently against the woodwork.

“Good morning,” I said, “are you Taki?”

He was a little, fat, brown man, with pale, golden chrysanthemum-coloured eyes. He shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I'm Taki's cousin.”

“Oh,” I said, “oh, well, that's alright. They won't be a minute. They're just bringing the ice-box down.”

“The ice-box?” he asked.

“Yes, the ice-box. It's rather large but,” I said, “I think it'll go
there
.”

“Alright,” he said resignedly.

At that moment, at the top of the hillside, appeared the sweating, panting, arguing group of peasant lads carrying in their midst the ice-box, with Larry and Leslie dancing around them. They looked like a group of drunken dung beetles with a monstrous great ball of dung. Slowly, slipping and sliding and almost falling, and at one point almost dropping the ice-box so it rolled down the hill, they made their way down to the road, paused for a rest, and then got on to the jetty.

The jetty was constructed out of weather-beaten planks and the upright struts were of cypress wood. It was a strong enough jetty in its way, but it had been in existence for some considerable time. It had not, however, been designed to carry ice-boxes of the calibre of this one, and so as the panting, sweating crowd of peasants got to the middle of it there was a roaring crash and they and the ice-box fell into the sea.

“Bloody fools!” shouted Larry; “Bloody fools! Why didn't you look where you were going!

“It's not their fault. The planks have given way,” said Leslie. Yani had fallen so that both his feet were under the ice-box, but fortunately the bottom of the sea was very sandy at this point, so instead of his legs being crushed they were just pressed into the soft base.

With considerable effort and much shouting and altercation they managed to get the ice-box onto the jetty again. And then, using the round cypress poles from the broken part of the jetty as rollers, they rolled it down and, with much heaving and panting, got it on board the benzina.

“There,” said Larry, “quite simple. I told you it would be. Well now, you hang on here, Gerry, and we'll go back to the villa and fetch the rest of the things.”

Laughing and triumphant, the peasant boys went up the hillside with Larry and Leslie to fetch the rest of our equipment. I was watching them go and so wasn't taking much notice of the benzina. Suddenly I heard a rattle. I turned round and found that the men had pulled the boat well out from the jetty and was just hauling his anchor on board.

“Hoy!” I cried. “What are you doing?”

“Pulling in my anchor,” he said. He seemed to be a fairly literal sort of bloke.

“But where are you going?” I asked.

“Gouvia,” he said, and started the engine.

“But you can't go to Gouvia,” I shouted. “You can't. You're supposed to take us to the mainland. And you've got our icebox!”

But the noise of the engine was too loud and, in any case, even if he heard me he ignored me. He turned the bow of the benzina seawards and chug-chug-chugged off along the coast. I watched him with dismay. What on earth could we do now?

I ran back along the jetty, jumped over the broken part, and scampered up on to the road. I felt I must get up to the villa as soon as possible and tell Larry what had happened. Just at that moment they appeared at the top of the hill, carrying picnic baskets and various other things. And almost at the same moment Spiro's car drove up along the road with Mother and Margo in the back.

Larry and Leslie and their peasant helpers arrived at the road simultaneously with the car.

“What are you doing, dear?” said Mother, getting out of the car.

“We're just bringing the things down to put them in the benzina,” said Larry. And then he glanced at the jetty.

“Where the hell is it?” he asked.

“That's what I was trying to tell you,” I said. “He's gone.”

“What do you mean, he's
gone
?” said Leslie. “How could he have gone?”

“Well, he has,” I said. “Look, there he is.”

They peered and saw the benzina disappearing down the coast.

“But where's he gone
to
?” asked Larry.

“He said he was going to Gouvia.”

“Well, what's he going to Gouvia
for
?” He's supposed to take us to the mainland.”

“That's what I told him but he wouldn't take any notice of me.”

“But he's got the ice-box,” said Leslie.

“He's got the
what
?” asked Mother.

“The ice-box,” said Larry irritably. “We put the bloody ice-box on board and he's got that.”

“I told you not to touch that icebox,” said Mother. “I told you not to move it. Really, Larry, you do make me angry.”

“Oh, Mother, do stop fussing,” said Larry. “The thing is to get the damn' thing back again now. What do you think this fool is up to, Spiro? You employed him.”

“That's not Taki's benzinas,” said Spiro scowling thoughtfully.

“No, it wasn't Taki,” I said. “It was his cousin.”

“Well, what are we going to do?” asked Mother, distraught.

“We'll have to go after him,” said Larry.

“I'll takes your mothers up to the house,” said Spiro, “and then I'll goes to Gouvia.”

“But you can't bring the ice-box back in a car,” said Larry. Just at that moment the sound of another benzina engine made itself heard and, looking round, we saw a second boat approaching from the town.

“Ah,” said Spiro, “that's Taki's benzinas.”

“Well, let him give chase,” said Larry. “Let him give chase. As soon as he gets here, tell him to give chase and get that bloody ice-box back. I don't know what that fool was playing at, taking it away like that.”

“Didn't he show any surprise,” asked Leslie of me, “when you asked him to put the ice-box on board?”

“No,” I said, “he just looked blank.”

“As well he might,” said Mother. “I would look blank, too, in similar circumstances.”

When Taki's boat eventually made the jetty we explained the predicament to him. He was a nice, wiry little man and grinned amicably, showing large quantities of gold teeth.

“Here, these boys had better go with him,” said Larry. “Otherwise we'll never get the ice-box from one benzina to the other.”

The six peasant boys, delighted at the idea of a sea trip, clambered on board chattering and laughing excitedly.

“Leslie, you'd better go with them,” said Larry. “Airight,” said Leslie, “I suppose I'd better.” He got on board the boat and it chugged off in pursuit of the first one.

“I simply can't understand it,” said Mother. “What did the man think he was doing?”

“Oh, Mother,” said Margo, “you know what it's like in Corfu. Everybody's mad.”

“Yes, but not
that
mad,” said Mother. “You don't bring a benzina in and pick up a complete stranger's ice-box and go off with it, just like that.”

“Maybes he's comes from Zante,” said Spiro, as if this explained everything.

“Well, I don't know. Really!” said Mother. “What a start to the whole thing! You children do make me angry.”

“Now, I think that's unfair, Mother,” said Margo. “After all, Larry and Leslie weren't to know they'd put it on the wrong benzina.”

“They should have asked,” said Mother. “We might never get it back.”

“Don'ts yous worrys, Mrs Durrells,” said Spiro, scowling, “I'll gets its backs. Yous comes ups to the house.”

So we all went up to the house and waited there. After about three and a half hours Mother's nerves were in shreds.

“I'm sure they've dropped it into the sea,” she said. “Really, I shall never forgive you, Larry. And I explicitly told you not to move the ice-box.”

At that moment we heard dimly, far away, the put-put-put of a benzina. I ran out with the field glasses and peered out across the sea. Sure enough, there was Taki's benzina coming towards the jetty, with the ice-box carefully installed on it. I ran back with the news to Mother.

“Well,” she said, “that's something, I suppose. Now perhaps we can get off Really, I feel as though I've aged another year even though I haven't had my birthday.”

So we carried all our things once more down to the jetty and packed them on board the benzina. Then we piled into the car and drove into town.

In town we found our friends gathered together having a drink under the cool shade of the columns on the Esplanade. There was Sven, who looked like a great, moon-faced baby with his almost bald head and his tattered wispy fringe of grey hair, clasping his precious accordion — an instrument without which he never travelled. There was Theodore, immaculately clad in a suit, with a Panama hat, his beard and moustache twinkling golden in the sun. Beside his chair he had his cane with a little net on the end of it and his box containing his precious test tubes and bottles for collecting. There was Donald, who looked pale and aristocratic; Max, tall and gangling, with curly hair and a brown moustache perched like a butterfly on his upper lip; Leonora, blonde, nubile and very beautiful; and Mactavish, a stocky man with a brown, lined face and thinning grey hair.

We apologised for being late, which nobody seemed to have noticed, had a drink while Spiro collected some of the more perishable goods, and made our way down to where the benzina awaited us.

We climbed on board, the final parcels of foodstuff were packed away in the ice-box, the engine was started and we cruised out across the placid water.

“I've bought some, um…, you know…, seasick pills,” said Theodore gravely, casting a suspicious glance at the water, which looked as though it had been painted. “I thought perhaps there might be a little motion, you know, and as I'm such a bad sailor I thought I'd take the precaution.”

“Well, if there's any motion, you can give me one,” said Mother. “I'm a very bad sailor, too.”

“Muzzer von't get seasick,” said Max, patting her on the shoulder. “I von't let Muzzer get seasick.”

“I don't see how you're going to stop it,” said Mother.

“Garlic,” said Max, “garlic. It's an old Austrian remedy. It is excellent.”

“What do you mean, raw garlic?” said Margo. “How disgusting.”

“No, no, Margo dear, it is not disgusting,” said Max. “It is very good for you, very good indeed.”

“I can't stand men who smell of garlic,” said Margo. “They simply blow you to pieces.”

“But if you took de garlic too,” said Max, “den you could blow
dem
to pieces.”

“Danmed bad form, eating garlic,” said Donald. “Damned bad form. Only Continentals do it.”

“It's supposed to be, um…, exceedingly good for one,” said Theodore, “according to medical evidence.”

“Well, I always put it in the food when I'm cooking,” said Mother. “I think it adds to the flavour.”

“But it's such a terribly dreary smell,” said Leonora, draping herself like a Persian cat on the deck. “I travelled on a bus out to Perema the other day and, my dear, I nearly suffocated, Everybody was chewing the most enormous cloves of garlic and breathing it all back at me. I felt quite faint by the time we got there.”

Sven unhitched his accordion and hung it round his waist.

“My dear Mrs Durrell, what would you like me to play?” he inquired.

“Oh, er…, I don't mind, Sven,” said Mother. “Something gay.”

“How about ‘There is a Tavern in the Town'?” suggested Theodore. This was the one tune that he could hear incessantly with great pleasure.

“Very well,” said Sven, and started playing.

Leslie and Mactavish were up in the bows. Periodically Mactavish would do a few knee-bends or press-ups. He was a health fiend, among other things. He had been in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police at one time during his career and very seldom let you forget it. He always endeavoured to be the life and soul of the party, and the thing that he was proudest of was the fact that he was in tip-top physical condition. He would slap his stomach and say, “Look at that, look at that! Not bad for a man of forty-five, eh?”

So the benzina chugged its way across the channel that separated Corfu from the mainland, with Theodore vigorously singing “There is a Tavern in the Town”.

The trip over seemed extraordinarily short for me. There was so much to watch for — flying fish, seagulls — and I was constantly having to drag Theodore away from the adult company to ask his erudite advice on bits of seaweed and similar things of interest that were passing the boat.

Then, eventually we reached the extraordinary brown and eroded coast between Albania and Corfu which spread on into Greece, and as we drew closer and closer to the coast we passed towering pinnacles of rock like the carunculated, melted remains of a million multicoloured candles. Eventually, as night was falling, we discovered a bay that looked as though it had been bitten out of the hard rock by some gigantic sea monster. It was a perfect half moon, and here we thought we would make landfall. The sand was white, the cliffs tall and somehow protective, and so gently the benzina was brought in, the anchor was thrown over the side, and we came to a halt.

This was the moment when the ice-box came into its own. Out of it Mother and Spiro unpacked an incredible assortment of foodstuffs: legs of lamb stuffed with garlic, lobsters, and various extraordinary things that Mother had made which she called curry puffs. Some of them were in fact curry puffs but others were stuffed with different delicacies. And so we lay around on the deck and gorged ourselves.