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The Lake of Lilies






 

 

THE Magenpies were most indignant at their imprisonment, in spite of the large size of their quarters. Suffering from insatiable curiosity as they did, they found it most frustrating not to be able to investigate and comment on everything that happened. Their field of view was limited to the front of the house, and so if anything happened round the back they would go almost frantic, cackling and chucking indignantly as they flew round and round their cage, poking their heads through the wire in an effort to see what was going on. Confined as they were, they were able to devote a lot of time to their studies, which consisted of getting a solid grounding in the Greek and English language, and producing skilful imitations of natural sounds. Within a very short time they were able to call all members of the family by name, and they would, with extreme cunning, wait until Spiro had got into the car and coasted some distance down the hill, before rushing to the corner of their cage and screaming 'Spiro... Spiro... Spiro...' making him cram on his brakes and return to the house to find out who was calling him. They would also derive a lot of innocent amusement by shouting 'Go away I' and 'Come here' in rapid succession, in both Greek and English, to the complete confusion of the dogs. Another trick, out of which they got endless pleasure, was deluding the poor unfortunate flock of chickens, which spent the day scratching hopefully round the olive-groves. Periodically the maid would come to the kitchen door and utter a series of piping noises, interspersed with strange hiccoughing cries, which the hens knew was a signal for food, and they would assemble at the backdoor like magic. As soon as the Magenpies had mastered the chicken-food call they worried the poor hens into a decline. They would wait until the most awkward time before using it; until the hens, with infinite effort and much squawking, had gone to roost in the smaller trees, or, in the heat of the day, when they had all settled down for a pleasant siesta in the shade of the myrtles. No sooner were they drowsing pleasantly than the Magenpies, would start the food call, one doing the hiccoughs while the other did the piping. The hens would all glance nervously round, each waiting for one of the others to show signs of life. The Magenpies would call again, more seductively and urgently. Suddenly, one hen with less self-control than the rest would leap squawking to her feet and bounce towards the Magenpies' cage, and the rest, clucking and flapping, would follow her with all speed. They would rush up to the wire of the cage, barging and squawking, treading on each other's feet, pecking at each other, and then stand in a disorderly, panting crowd looking up into the cage where the Magenpies, sleek and elegant in their black and white suits, would stare down at them and chuckle, like a pair of city slickers that have successfully duped a crowd of bumbling and earnest villagers.

 

The Magenpies liked the dogs, although they seized every opportunity to tease them. They were particularly fond of Roger, and he would frequently go and call on them, lying down close to the wire netting, ears pricked, while the Magenpies sat on the ground inside the cage, three inches away from his nose, and talked to him in soft, wheezy chucks, with an occasional raucous guffaw, as though they were telling him dirty jokes. They never teased Roger as much as they teased the other two, and they never attempted to lure him close to the wire with soft blandishment so that they could flap down and pull his tail, as they frequently did with both Widdle and Puke. On the whole the Magenpies approved of dogs, but they liked them to look and behave like dogs; so when Dodo made her appearance in our midst the Magenpies absolutely refused to believe that she was a dog, and treated her from the beginning with a sort of rowdy, jeering disdain.

 

Dodo was a breed known as a Dandy Dinmont. They look like long, fat, hair-covered balloons, with minute bow legs, enormous and protuberant eyes, and long flopping ears. Strangely enough it was due to Mother that this curious misshapen breed of dog made its appearance among us. A friend of ours had a pair of these beasts which had suddenly (after years of barrenness) produced a litter of six puppies. The poor man was at his wits' end trying to find good homes for all these offspring, and so Mother, good-naturedly and unthinkingly, said she would have one. She set off one afternoon to choose her puppy and, rather unwisely, selected a female. At the time it did not strike her as imprudent to introduce a bitch into a household exclusively populated by very masculine dogs. So, clasping the puppy (like a dimly conscious sausage) under one arm, Mother climbed into the car and drove home in triumph to show the new addition to the family. The puppy, determined to make the occasion a memorable one, was violently and persistently sick from the moment she got in the car to the moment she got out. The family, assembled on the veranda, viewed Mother's prize as it waddled up the path towards them, eyes bulging, minute legs working frantically to keep the long, drooping body in motion, ears flapping wildly, pausing now and then to vomit into a flower-bed.

 

'Oh, isn't he sweet? cried Margo.

 

'Good God! It looks like a sea-slug, ' said Leslie.

 

'Mother! Really! ' said Larry, contemplating Dodo with loathing, 'where did you dig up that canine Frankenstein? ’

 

'Oh, but he's sweet? repeated Margo. 'What's wrong with him? '

 

'It's not a him, it's a her, ' said Mother, regarding her acquisition proudly; 'she's called Dodo.'

 

'Well, that's two things wrong with it for a start, ' said Larry. 'It's a ghastly name for an animal, and to introduce a bitch into the house with those other three lechers about is asking for trouble. Apart from that, just look at it! Look at the shape! How did it get like that? Did it have an accident, or was it born like that? ’

 

'Don't be silly, dear; it's the breed. They're meant to be like that.'

 

'Nonsense, mother; it's a monster. Who would want to deliberately produce a thing that shape? ’

 

I pointed out that dachshunds were much the same shape, and they had been bred specially to enable them to get down holes after badgers. Probably the Dandy Dinmont had been bred for a similar reason.

 

'She looks as though she was bred to go down holes after sewage, ' said Larry.

 

'Don't be disgusting, dear. They're very nice little dogs, and very faithful, apparently.'

 

'I should imagine they have to be faithful to anyone who shows interest in them: they can't possibly have many admirers in the world.'

 

'I think you're being very nasty about her, and, anyway, you're in no position to talk about beauty; it's only skin deep after all, and before you go throwing stones you should look for the beam in jour eye, ' said Margo triumphantly.

 

Larry looked puzzled.

 

'Is that a proverb, or a quotation from the Builders' Gazette? ' he inquired.

 

'I think she means that it's an ill-wind that gathers no moss, ' said Leslie.

 

'You make me sick, ' said Margo, with dignified scorn.

 

'Well, join little Dodo in the flower-bed.'

 

'Now, now, ' said Mother, 'don't argue about it. It's my dog and I like her, so that's all that matters.'

 

So Dodo settled in, and almost immediately showed faults in her make-up which caused us more trouble than all the other dogs put together. To begin with she had a weak hind-leg, and at any time during the day or night her hip joint was liable to come out of its socket, for no apparent reason. Dodo, who was no stoic, would greet this catastrophe with a series of piercing shrieks that worked up to a crescendo of such quivering intensity that it was unbearable. Strangely enough, her leg never seemed to worry her when she went out for walks, or gambolled with elephantine enthusiasm after a ball on the veranda. But invariably in the evening when the family were all sitting quietly, absorbed in writing or reading or knitting, Dodo's leg would suddenly leap out of its socket, she would roll on her back and utter a scream that would make everybody jump and lose control of whatever they were doing. By the time we had massaged her leg back into place Dodo would have screamed herself to exhaustion, and immediately fall into a deep and peaceful sleep, while we would be so unnerved that we would be unable to concentrate on anything for the rest of the evening.

 

We soon discovered that Dodo had an extremely limited intelligence. There was only room for one idea at a time in her skull, and once it was there Dodo would retain it grimly in spite of all opposition. She decided quite early in her career that Mother belonged to her, but she was not over-possessive at first until one afternoon Mother went off to town to do some shopping and left Dodo behind. Convinced that she would never see Mother again, Dodo went into mourning and waddled, howling sorrowfully, round the house, occasionally being so overcome with grief that her leg would come out of joint. She greeted Mother's return with incredulous joy, but made up her mind that from that moment she would not let Mother out of her sight, for fear she escaped again. So she attached herself to Mother with the tenacity of a limpet, never moving more than a couple of feet away at the most. If Mother sat down, Dodo would lie at her feet; if Mother had to get up and cross the room for a book or a cigarette, Dodo would accompany her, and then they would return together and sit down again, Dodo giving a deep sigh of satisfaction at the thought that once more she had foiled Mother's attempts at escape. She even insisted in being present when Mother had a bath, sitting dolefully by the tub and staring at Mother with embarrassing intensity. Any attempts to leave her outside the bathroom door resulted in Dodo howling madly and hurling herself at the door-panels, which almost invariably resulted in her hip slipping out of its socket. She seemed to be under the impression that it was not safe to let Mother go alone into the bathroom, even if she stood guard over the door. There was always the possibility, she seemed to think, that Mother might give her the slip by crawling down the plughole.

 

At first Dodo was regarded with tolerant scorn by Roger, Widdle, and Puke; they did not think much of her, for she was too fat and too low slung to walk far, and if they made any attempts to play with her it seemed to bring on an attack of persecution mania, and Dodo would gallop back to the house, howling for protection. Taken all round they were inclined to consider her a boring and useless addition to the household, until they discovered that she had one superlative and overwhelmingly delightful characteristic: she came into season with monotonous regularity. Dodo herself displayed an innocence about the facts of life that was rather touching. She seemed not only puzzled but positively scared at her sudden bursts of popularity, when her admirers arrived in such numbers that Mother had to go about armed with a massive stick. It was owing to this Victorian innocence that Dodo fell an easy victim to the lure of Puke's magnificent ginger eyebrows, and so met a fate worse than death when Mother inadvertently locked them in the drawing-room together while she supervised the making of tea. The sudden and unexpected arrival of the English padre and his wife, ushering them into the room in which the happy couple were disporting themselves, and the subsequent efforts to maintain a normal conversation, left Mother feeling limp, and with a raging headache.

 

To everyone's surprise (including Dodo's) a puppy was born of this union, a strange, mewling blob of a creature with its mother's figure and its father's unusual liver-and-white markings. To suddenly become a mother like that, Dodo found, was very demoralizing, and she almost had a nervous breakdown, for she was torn between the desire to stay in one spot with her puppy and the urge to keep as close to Mother as possible. We were, however, unaware of this psychological turmoil. Eventually Dodo decided to compromise, so she followed Mother around and carried the puppy in her mouth. She had spent a whole morning doing this before we discovered what she was up to; the unfortunate baby hung from her mouth by its head, its body swinging to and fro as Dodo waddled along at Mother's heels. Scolding and pleading having no effect, Mother was forced to confine herself to the bedroom with Dodo and her puppy, and we carried their meals up on a tray. Even this was not altogether successful, for if Mother moved out of the chair, Dodo, ever alert, would seize her puppy and sit there regarding Mother with starting eyes, ready to give chase if necessary.

 

'If this goes on much longer that puppy'll grow into a giraffe, ' observed Leslie.

 

'I know, poor little thing, ' said Mother; 'but what can I do? She picks it up if she sees me lighting a cigarette.'

 

'Simplest thing would be to drown it, ' said Larry. 'It's going to grow into the most horrifying animal, anyway. Look at its parents.'

 

'No, indeed you won't drown it I' exclaimed Mother indignantly.

 

'Don't be horrible” said Margo; 'the poor little thing.'

 

'Well, I think it's a perfectly ridiculous situation, allowing yourself to be chained to a chair by a dog.'

 

'It's my dog, and if I want to sit here I shall, said Mother firmly.

 

'But for how long? This might go on for months.'

 

'I shall think of something, ' said Mother with dignity.

 

The solution to the problem that Mother eventually thought of was simple. She hired the maid's youngest daughter to carry the puppy for Dodo. This arrangement seemed to satisfy Dodo very well, and once more Mother was able to move about the house. She pottered from room to room like.some Eastern potentate, Dodo pattering at her heels, and young Sophia bringing up the end of the line, tongue protruding and eyes squinting with the effort, bearing in her arms a large cushion on which reposed Dodo's strange offspring. When Mother was going to be in one spot for any length of time Sophia would place the cushion reverently on the ground, and Dodo would surge on to it and sigh deeply. As soon as Mother was ready to go to another part of the house, Dodo would get off her cushion, shake herself, and take up her position in the cavalcade, while Sophia lifted the cushion aloft as though it carried a crown. Mother would peer over her spectacles to make sure the column was ready, giving a little nod, and they would wind their way off to the next job.

 

Every evening Mother would go for a walk with the dogs, and the family would derive much amusement from watching her progress down the hill. Roger, as senior dog, would lead the procession, followed by Widdle and Puke. Then came Mother, wearing an enormous straw hat, which made her look like an animated mushroom, clutching in one hand a large trowel with which to dig any interesting wild plants she found. Dodo would waddle behind, eyes protruding and tongue flapping, and Sophia would bring up the rear, pacing along solemnly, carrying the imperial puppy on its cushion. Mother's Circus, Larry called it, and would irritate her by bellowing out of the window:

 

'Oi! Lady, wot time does the big top go up, hay? ’

 

He purchased a bottle of hair restorer for her so that, as he explained, she could conduct experiments on Sophia and try to turn her into a bearded lady.

 

'That's wot your show needs, lady, ' he assured her in a hoarse voice - 'a bit of clarse, see? Nothing like a bearded lady for bringin' a bit o' clarse to a show.'

 

But in spite of all this Mother continued to lead her strange caravan off into the olive-groves at five o'clock every evening.

 

Up in the north of the island lay a large lake with the pleasant, jingling name of Antiniotissa, and this place was one of our favourite haunts. It was about a mile long, an elongated sheet of shallow water surrounded by a thick mane of cane and reed, and separated from the sea at one end by a wide, gently curving dune of fine white sand. Theodore always accompanied us when we paid our visits to the lake, for he and I would find a rich field of exploration in the ponds, ditches, and marshy pot-holes that lay around the shore of the lake. Leslie invariably took a battery of guns with him, since the cane forest rustled with game, while Larry insisted on taking an enormous harpoon, and would stand for hours in the stream that marked the lake's entry into the sea, endeavouring to spear the large fish that swam there. Mother would be laden with baskets full of food, empty baskets for plants, and various gardening implements for digging up her finds. Margo was perhaps the most simply equipped, with a bathing-costume, a large towel, and a bottle of sun-tan lotion. With all this equipment our trips to Antiniotissa were something in the nature of major expeditions.

 

There was, however, a certain time of the year when the lake was at its best, and that was the season of lilies. The smooth curve of the dune that ran between the bay and the lake was the only place on the island where these sand lilies grew, strange, misshapen bulbs buried in the sand, that once a year sent up thick green leaves and white flowers above the surface, so that the dune became a glacier of flowers. We always visited the lake at this time, for the experience was a memorable one. Not long after Dodo had become a mother, Theodore informed us that the time of the lilies was at hand, and we started to make preparations for our trip to Antiniotissa. We soon found that having a nursing mother in our midst was going to complicate matters considerably.

 

'We'll have to go by boat this time, ' Mother said, frowning at a complicated, jigsaw-like jersey she was knitting.

 

'Why, by boat it takes twice as long, ' said Larry.

 

'We can't go by car, dear, because Dodo will be sick, and anyway there wouldn't be room for all of us.'

 

'You're not going to take that animal, are you? ' asked Larry in horror.

 

'But I have to, dear... purl two, cast off one.... I can't leave her behind... purl three... you know what she's like.'

 

'Well, hire a special car for her then. I'm damned if I'm going to drive about the countryside looking as though I've just burgled Battersea Dogs' Home.'

 

'She can't travel by car. That's what I'm explaining to you. You know she gets car-sick. Now be quiet a minute, dear, I'm counting.'

 

'Its ridiculous...' began Larry exasperatedly.

 

'Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, ' said Mother loudly and fiercely.

 

'It's ridiculous that we should have to go the longest way round just because Dodo vomits every time she sees a car.'

 

'There! ' said Mother irritably, 'you've made me lose count. I do wish you wouldn't argue with me when I'm knitting.'

 

'How d'you know she won't be sea-sick? ' inquired Leslie interestedly.

 

'People who are car-sick are never sea-sick, ' explained Mother.

 

'I don't believe it, ' said Larry. 'That's an old wives' tale, isn't it, Theodore? ’

 

'Well, I wouldn't like to say, ' said Theodore judicially. 'I have heard it before, but whether there's any... um... you know... any truth in it, I can't say. All I know is that I have, so far, not felt sick in a car.'

 

Larry looked at him blankly. 'What does that prove? ' he asked, bewildered.

 

'Well, I am always sick in a boat, ' explained Theodore simply.

 

'That's wonderful! ' said Larry. 'If we travel by car Dodo will be sick, and if we travel by boat Theodore will. Take your choice.'

 

'I didn't know you got sea-sick, Theodore, ' said Mother.

 

'Oh, yes, unfortunately I do. I find it a great drawback.'

 

'Well, in weather like this the sea will be very calm, so I should think you'll be all right, ' said Margo.

 

'Unfortunately, ' said Theodore, rocking on his toes, 'that does not make any difference at all. I suffer from the... er... slightest motion. In fact on several occasions when I have been in the cinema and they have shown films of ships in rough seas I have been forced to... um... forced to leave my seat.'

 

'Simplest thing would be to divide up, ' said Leslie; 'half go by boat and the other half go by car.'

 

" That's a brain-wave! ' said Mother.” The problem is solved.'

 

But it did not settle the problem at all, for we discovered that the road to Antiniotissa was blocked by a minor landslide, and so to get there by car was impossible. We would have to go by sea or not at all.

 

We set off in a warm pearly dawn that foretold a breathlessly warm day and a calm sea. In order to cope with the family, the dogs, Spiro, and Sophia, we had to take the Bootle-Bumtrinket as well as the Sea Cow. Having to trail the Bootle-Bumtrinket's rotund shape behind her cut down on the Sea Cow's speed, but it was the only way to do it. At Larry's suggestion the dogs, Sophia, Mother, and Theodore travelled in the Bootle-Bumtrinket while the rest of us piled into the Sea Cow. Unfortunately Larry had not taken into consideration one important factor: the wash caused by the Sea Cow's passage. The wave curved like a wall of blue glass from her stern and reached its maximum height just as it struck the broad breast o£ the Bootle-Bumtrinket, lifting her up into the air and dropping her down again with a thump. We did not notice the effect the wash was having for some considerable time, for the noise of the engine drowned the frantic cries for help from Mother. When we eventually stopped and let the Bootle-Bumtrinket bounce up to us, we found that not only were both Theodore and Dodo ill, but everyone else was as well, including such a hardened and experienced sailor as Roger. We had to get them all into the Sea Cow and lay them out in a row, and Spiro, Larry, Margo, and myself took up their positions in the Bootle-Bumtrinket. By the time we were nearing Antiniotissa everyone was feeling better, with the exception of Theodore, who still kept as close to the side of the boat as possible, staring hard at his boots and answering questions monosyllabically. We rounded the last headland of red and gold rocks, lying in wavy layers like piles of gigantic fossilized newspapers, or the rusty and mould-covered wreckage of a colossus's library, and the Sea Cow and the Bootle-Bumtrinket turned into the wide blue bay that lay at the mouth of the lake. The curve of pearl-white sand was backed by the great lily-covered dune behind, a thousand white flowers in the sunshine like a multitude of ivory horns lifting their lips to the sky and producing, instead of music, a rich, heavy scent that was the distilled essence of summer, a warm sweetness that made you breathe deeply time and again in an effort to retain it within you. The engine died away in a final splutter that echoed briefly among the rocks, and then the two boats whispered their way shorewards, and the scent of the lilies came out over the water to greet us.

 

Having got the equipment ashore and installed it on the white sand, we each wandered off about our own business. Larry and Margo lay in the shallow water half asleep, being rocked by the faint, gentle ripples. Mother led her cavalcade off on a short walk, armed with a trowel and a basket. Spiro, clad only in his underpants and looking like some dark hairy prehistoric man, waddled into the stream that flowed from the lake to the sea and stood knee deep, scowling down into the transparent waters, a trident held at the ready as the shoals of fish flicked around his feet. Theodore and I drew lots with Leslie as to which side of the lake we should have, and then set off in opposite directions. The boundary marking the half-way mark on the lake-shore was a large and particularly misshapen olive. Once we reached there we would turn back and retrace our footsteps, and Leslie would do the same on his side. This cut out the possibility of his shooting us, by mistake, in some dense and confusing canebrake. So, while Theodore and I dipped and pottered among the pools and streamlets, like a pair of eager herons, Leslie strode stockily through the undergrowth on the other side of the lake, and an occasional explosion would echo across to us to mark his progress.

 

Lunch-time came and we assembled hungrily on the beach, Leslie with a bulging bag of game, hares damp with blood, partridge and quail, snipe and wood pigeons; Theodore and I with our test-tubes and bottles a-shimmer with small life. A fire blazed, the food was piled on the rugs, and the wine fetched from the sea's edge where it had been put to cool. Larry pulled his corner of the rug up the dune so that he could stretch full-length surrounded by the white trumpets of the lilies. Theodore sat upright and neat, his beard wagging as he chewed his food slowly and methodically. Margo sprawled elegantly in the sun, picking daintily at a pile of fruit and vegetables. Mother and Dodo were installed in the shade of a large umbrella. Leslie squatted on his haunches in the sand, his gun across his thighs, eating a huge hunk of cold meat with one hand and stroking the barrels of the weapon meditatively with the other. Nearby Spiro crouched by the fire, sweat running down his furrowed face and dropping in gleaming drops into the thick pelt of black hair of his chest, as he turned and improvized olive-wood spit, with seven fat snipe on it, over the flames.

 

'What a heavenly place! ' mumbled Larry through a mouthful of food, lying back luxuriously among the shining flowers. 'I feel this place was designed for me. I should like to lie here forever, having food and wine pressed into my mouth by groups of naked and voluptuous dryads. Eventually, of course, over the centuries, by breathing deeply and evenly I should embalm myself with this scent, and then one day my faithful dryads would find me gone, and only the scent would remain. Will someone throw me one of those delicious-looking figs? ’

 

'I read a most interesting book on embalming once, ' said Theodore enthusiastically. 'They certainly seemed to go to a great deal of trouble to prepare the bodies in Egypt. I must say I thought the method of... er... extracting the brain through the nose was most ingenious.'

 

'Dragged them down through the nostrils with a sort of hook arrangement, didn't they? ' inquired Larry.

 

'Larry, dear, not while we're eating?

 

Lunch being over we drifted into the shade of the nearby olives and drowsed sleepily through the heat of the afternoon, while the sharp, soothing song of the cicadas poured over us. Occasionally one or other of us would rise, wander down to the sea and flop into the shallows for a minute before coming back, cooled, to resume his siesta. At four o'clock Spiro, who had been stretched out massive and limp, bubbling with snores, regained consciousness with a snort and waddled down the beach to relight the fire for tea. The rest of us awoke slowly, dreamily, stretching and sighing, and drifted down over the sand towards the steaming, chattering kettle. As we crouched with the cups in our hands, blinking and musing, still half asleep, a robin appeared among the lilies and hopped down towards us, his breast glowing, his eyes bright. He paused some ten feet away and surveyed us critically. Deciding that we needed some entertainment, he hopped to where a pair of lilies formed a beautiful arch, posed beneath them theatrically, puffed out his chest, and piped a liquid, warbling song. When he had finished he suddenly ducked his head in what appeared to be a ludicrously conceited bow, and then flipped off through the lilies, frightened by our burst of laughter.

 

'They are dear little things, robins, ' said Mother. " There was one in England that used to spend hours by me when I was gardening. I love the way they puff up their little chests.'

 

'The way that one bobbed looked exactly as if he was bowing, ' said Theodore. 'I must say when he... er... puffed up his chest he looked very like a rather... you know... a rather outside opera singer.'

 

'Yes, singing something rather frothy and light.... Strauss, I should think, ' agreed Larry.

 

'Talking of operas, ' said Theodore, his eyes gleaming, 'did I ever tell you about the last opera we had in Corfu? ’

 

We said no, he hadn't told us, and settled ourselves comfortably, getting almost as much amusement from the sight of Theodore telling the story as from the story itself.

 

'It was... um... one of those travelling opera companies, you know. I think it came from Athens, but it may have been Italy. Anyway, their first performance was to be Tosca. The singer who took the part of the heroine was exceptionally... er... well developed, as they always seem to be. Well, as you know, in the final act of the opera the heroine casts herself to her doom from the battlements of a fortress -or, rather, a castle. On the first night the heroine climbed up on to the castle walls, sang her final song, and then cast herself to her... you know... her doom on the rocks below. Unfortunately it seems that the stage hands had forgotten to put anything beneath the walls for her to land on. The result was that the crash of her landing and her subsequent... er... yells of pain detracted somewhat from the impression that she was a shattered corpse on the rocks far below. The singer who was just bewailing the fact that she was dead had to sing quite... er... quite powerfully in order to drown her cries. The heroine was, rather naturally, somewhat upset by the incident, and so the following night the stage hands threw themselves with enthusiasm into the job of giving her a pleasant landing. The heroine, somewhat battered, managed to hobble her way through the opera until she reached the... er... final scene. Then she again climbed on to the battlements, sang her last song, and cast herself to her death. Unfortunately the stage hands, having made the landing too hard on the first occasion, had gone to the opposite extreme. The huge pile of mattresses and... er... you know, those springy bed things, was so resilient that the heroine hit them and then bounced up again. So while the cast was down at the... er... what d'you call them?... ah, yes, the footlights, telling each other she was dead, the upper portions of the heroine reappeared two or three times above the battlements, to the mystification of the audience.'

 

The robin, who had hopped nearer during the telling of the story, took fright and flew off again at our burst of laughter.

 

'Really, Theodore, I'm sure you spend your spare time making up these stories, ' protested Larry.

 

'No, no, ' said Theodore, smiling happily in his beard; 'if it were anywhere else in the world I would have to, but here in Corfu they... er... anticipate art, as it were.'

 

Tea over, Theodore and I returned to the lake's edge once more and continued our investigation until it grew too shadowy to see properly; then we walked slowly back to the beach, where the fire Spiro had built pulsed and glowed like an enormous chrysanthemum among the ghostly white lilies. Spiro, having speared three large fish, was roasting them on a grid, absorbed and scowling, putting now a flake of garlic, now a squeeze of lemon-juice or a sprinkle of pepper on the delicate white flesh that showed through where the charred skin was starting to peel off. The moon rose above the mountains, turned the lilies to silver except where the flickering flames illuminated them with a flush of pink. The tiny ripples sped over the moonlit sea and breathed with relief as they reached the shore at last. Owls started to chime in the trees, and in the gloomy shadows fireflies gleamed as they flew, their jade-green, misty lights pulsing on and off.

 

Eventually, yawning and stretching, we carried our things down to the boats. We rowed out to the mouth of the bay, and then in the pause while Leslie fiddled with the engine, we looked back at Antiniotissa. The lilies were like a snow-field under the moon, and the dark backcloth of olives was pricked with the lights of fireflies. The fire we had built, stamped, and ground underfoot before we left, glowed like a patch of garnets at the edge of the flowers.

 

'It is certainly a very... er... beautiful place, ' said Theodore with immense satisfaction.

 

'It's a glorious place, ' agreed Mother, and then gave it her highest accolade, 'I should like to be buried there.'

 

The engine stuttered uncertainly, then broke into a deep roar; the Sea Cow gathered speed and headed along the coastline, trailing the Bootle-Bumtrinket behind, and beyond that our wash fanned out, white and delicate as a spider's web on the dark water, flaming here and there with a momentary spark of phosphorescence.

 


 

 


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