The Corfu Trilogy (53 page)

‘Charming old boy,’ said Leslie. ‘Couldn’t have been nicer. I promised to get him some stamps. Who do we know in England who collects them?’

‘Well, your father used to,’ said Mother. ‘He was a very keen philatelist when he was alive.’

‘Gollys, don’t says that Mrs Durrells,’ said Spiro, in genuine anguish.

A short pause ensued while the family explained to him the meaning of the word philatelist.

‘I still don’t see how this is going to help the case,’ said Larry, ‘even if you inundate him with penny blacks.’

‘Never yous minds, Masters Larrys,’ said Spiro darkly. ‘I said I’d fixes it and I will. You just leaves it to me.’

For the next few days Leslie, convinced that Spiro could obstruct the course of justice, wrote to everybody he could think of in England and demanded stamps. The result was that our mail increased threefold and that practically every free space in the villa was taken up by piles of stamps which, whenever a wind blew, would drift like autumn leaves across the room, to the vociferous, snarling delight of the dogs. As a result of this, many of the stamps began to look slightly the worse for wear.

‘You’re not going to give him
those
, are you?’ said Larry, disdainfully surveying a pile of mangled, semi-masticated stamps that Leslie had rescued from the jaws of Roger half an hour previously.

‘Well, stamps are supposed to be old, aren’t they?’ said Leslie belligerently.

‘Old, perhaps,’ said Larry, ‘but surely not covered with enough spittle to give him hydrophobia.’

‘Well, if you can think of a better bloody plan, why don’t you suggest it?’ inquired Leslie.

‘My dear fellow,
I
don’t mind,’ said Larry. ‘When the judge is running around biting all his colleagues and you are languishing in a Greek prison, don’t blame me.’

‘All I ask is that you mind your own bloody business,’ cried Leslie.

‘Now, now, dear, Larry’s only trying to be helpful,’ said Mother.

‘Helpful,’ snarled Leslie, making a grab at a group of stamps that were being blown off the table. ‘He’s just interfering as usual.’

‘Well, dear,’ said Mother, adjusting her spectacles, ‘I do think he may be right, you know. After all, some of those stamps do look a little, well, you know, second-hand.’

‘He wants stamps and he’s bloody well going to get stamps,’ said Leslie.

And stamps the poor judge got, in a bewildering variety of sizes, shapes, colors, and stages of disintegration.

Then another thing happened that increased Leslie’s confidence in winning the case a hundredfold. We discovered that the turkey man, whom Larry constantly referred to as Crippenopoulos, had been unwise enough to subpoena Lugaretzia as a witness for the prosecution. Lucretia, furious, wanted to refuse, until it was explained to her that she could not.

‘Imagine that man calling me as a witness to help him,’ she said. ‘Well, don’t you worry,
kyrié
Leslie, I’ll tell the court how he forced you to swear at him and call him…’

The family rose in a body and vociferously informed Lugaretzia that she was not to do anything of the sort. It took us half an hour to impress upon her what she should and should not say. At the end of it, since Lugaretzia, like most Corfiotes, was not very strong on logic, we felt somewhat jaded.

‘Well, with her as witness for the prosecution,’ said Larry, ‘I should think you’ll probably get the death sentence.’

‘Larry dear, don’t say things like that,’ said Mother. ‘It’s not funny even in a joke.’

‘I’m not joking,’ said Larry.

‘Rubbish,’ said Leslie uneasily. ‘I’m sure she’ll be all right.’

‘I think it would be much safer to disguise Margo as Lugaretzia,’ said Larry judicially. ‘With her sweeping command over the Greek language she would probably do you considerably less harm.’

‘Yes,’ said Margo excitedly, struck for the first time by Larry’s perspicacity, ‘why can’t I be a witness?’

‘Don’t be damned silly,’ said Leslie. ‘You weren’t there. How can you be a witness?’

‘I was almost there,’ said Margo. ‘I was in the kitchen.’

‘That’s all you need,’ said Larry to Leslie. ‘Margo and Lugaretzia
in the witness-box and you won’t even need a judge. You’ll probably be lynched by the mob.’

When the day of the case dawned, Mother rallied the family.

‘It’s ridiculous for us all to go,’ said Larry. ‘If Leslie wants to get himself into prison, that’s his affair. I don’t see why we should be dragged into it. Besides, I wanted to do some writing this morning.’

‘It’s our duty to go,’ said Mother firmly. ‘We must put on a bold front. After all, I don’t want people to think that I’m rearing a family of gaol-birds.’

So we all put on our best clothes and sat waiting patiently until Spiro came to collect us.

‘Now, don’ts yous worrys, Master Leslies,’ he scowled, with the air of a warder in the condemned cell. ‘Everything’s going to be OK’s.’

But in spite of this prophecy, Larry insisted on reciting ‘The Ballad of Reading Gaol’ as we drove into town, much to Leslie’s annoyance.

The court-room was a bustle of uncoordinated activity. People sipped little cups of coffee, other people shuffled through piles of papers in an aimless but dedicated way, and there was lots of chatter and laughter. Crippenopoulos was there in his best suit, but avoided our eye. Lugaretzia, for some reason best known to herself, was clad entirely in black. It was, as Larry pointed out, a premature move. Surely she should have reserved her mourning for after the trial.

‘Now, Master Leslies,’ said Spiro, ‘you stands there, and I stands there and translates for you.’

‘What for?’ inquired Leslie, bewildered.

‘Because you don’ts speaks Greeks,’ said Spiro.

‘Really, Spiro,’ protested Larry, ‘I admit his Greek is not Homeric, but it is surely perfectly adequate?’

‘Masters Larrys,’ said Spiro, scowling earnestly, ‘Master Leslies mustn’ts speaks Greeks.’

Before we could inquire more deeply into this, there was a general scuffling and the judge came in. He took his seat and his eyes roved round the court and then, catching sight of Leslie, he beamed and bowed.

‘Hanging judges always smile like that,’ said Larry.

‘Larry dear, do stop it,’ said Mother. ‘You’re making me nervous.’

There was a long pause while what was presumably the Clerk of the Court read out the indictment. Then Crippenopoulos was called to give his evidence. He put on a lovely performance, at once servile and indignant, placating but belligerent. The judge was obviously impressed and I began to get quite excited. Perhaps I would have a convict for a brother after all. Then it was Leslie’s turn.

‘You are accused,’ said the judge, ‘of having used defamatory and insulting language to this man and endeavouring to deprive him of rightful payment for the loss of five turkeys, killed by your dog.’

Leslie stared blank-faced at the judge.

‘What’s he say?’ he inquired of Spiro.

Spiro hitched his stomach up.

‘He says, Masters Leslies,’ and his voice was so pitched that it rumbled through the court-room like thunder, ‘he says that you insults this mans and that you tries to swindle him out of moneys for his turkeys.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Leslie firmly.

He was about to go on when Spiro held up a hand like a ham and stopped him. He turned to the judge.

‘The
kyrios
denies the charge,’ he said. ‘It would be impossible for him to be guilty anyway, because he doesn’t speak Greek.’

‘Christ!’ groaned Larry sepulchrally. ‘I hope Spiro knows what he’s doing.’

‘What’s he saying? What’s he doing?’ said Mother nervously.

‘As far as I can see, putting a noose round Leslie’s neck,’ said Larry.

The judge, who had had so many coffees with Leslie, who had received so many stamps from him, and who had had so many conversations in Greek with him, stared at Leslie impassively. Even if the judge had not known Leslie personally, it would have been impossible for him not to know that Leslie had some command over the Greek language. Nothing anyone did in Corfu was sacrosanct, and if you were a foreigner, of course, the interest in and the knowledge of your private affairs was that much greater. We waited with bated breath for the judge’s reactions. Spiro had his massive head slightly lowered like a bull about to charge.

‘I see,’ said the judge dryly.

He shuffled some papers aimlessly for a moment and then glanced up.

‘I understand,’ he said, ‘that the prosecution has a witness. I suppose we had better hear her.’

It was Lugaretzia’s big moment. She rose to her feet, folded her arms, and stared majestically at the judge, her normally pale face pink with excitement, her soulful eyes glowing.

‘You are Lugaretzia Condos and you are employed by these people as a cook?’ inquired the judge.

‘Yes,’ said Lugaretzia, ‘and a kinder, more generous family you could not wish to meet. Why, only the other day they gave me a frock for myself and for my daughter and it was only a month or two ago that I asked the
kyrios
…’

‘Yes,’ interrupted the judge, ‘I see. Well, this has not got much relevance to the case. I understand that you were there when this man called to see about his turkeys. Now tell me in your own words what happened.’

Larry groaned.

‘If she tells him in her own words, they’ll get Leslie for sure,’ he said.

‘Well,’ said Lugaretzia, glancing round the court to make sure she had everybody’s attention. ‘The
kyrios
had been very ill, very ill indeed. At times we despaired for his life. I kept suggesting cupping to his mother, but she wouldn’t hear of it…’

‘Would you mind getting to the point?’ said the judge.

‘Well,’ said Lugaretzia, reluctantly abandoning the subject of illness, which was always a favourite topic with her, ‘it was the
kyrios
’ first day up and he was very weak. Then this man,’ she said, pointing a scornful finger at Crippenopoulos, ‘arrived dead drunk and said that their dog had killed five of his turkeys. Now the dog wouldn’t do that,
kyrié
judge. A sweeter, kinder, nobler dog was never seen in Corfu.’

‘The dog is not on trial,’ said the judge.

‘Well,’ said Lugaretzia, ‘when the
kyrios
said, quite rightly, that he would have to see the corpses before he paid the man, the man said he couldn’t show them because the dog had eaten them. This is ridiculous, as you can well imagine,
kyrié
judge, as no dog could eat five turkeys.’

‘You are supposed to be a witness for the prosecution, aren’t you?’ said the judge. ‘I ask only because your story doesn’t tally with the complainant’s.’

‘Him,’ said Lucretia, ‘you don’t want to trust him. He’s a drunkard and a liar and it is well known in the village that he has got two wives.’

‘So you are telling me,’ said the judge, endeavouring to sort out this confusion, ‘that the
kyrios
didn’t swear at him in Greek and refuse payment for the turkeys.’

‘Of course he didn’t,’ said Lucretia. ‘A kinder, finer, more upstanding
kyrios
…’

‘Yes, yes, all right,’ said the judge.

He sat pondering for some time while we all waited in suspense, then he glanced up and looked at Crippenopoulos.

‘I can see no evidence,’ he said, ‘that the Englishman behaved in the way you have suggested. Firstly he does not speak Greek.’

‘He does speak Greek,’ shouted Crippenopoulos wrathfully. ‘He called me a…’

‘Will you be quiet,’ said the judge coldly. ‘Firstly, as I was saying, he does not speak Greek. Secondly, your own witness denies all knowledge of the incident. It seems to me clear, however, that you endeavoured to extract payment for turkeys which had not, in fact, been killed and eaten by the defendant’s dog. However, you are not on trial here for that, so I will merely find the defendant not guilty, and you will have to pay the costs.’

Immediately pandemonium reigned. Crippenopoulos was on his feet, purple with rage, shouting at the top of his voice and calling on St Spiridion’s aid. Spiro, bellowing like a bull, embraced Leslie, kissed him on both cheeks, and was followed by the weeping Lugaretzia who did likewise. It was some time before we managed to extricate ourselves from the court, and jubilantly we went down to the Esplanade and sat at a table under the trees to celebrate.

Presently the judge came past and we rose in a body to thank him and invite him to sit and have a drink with us. He refused the drink shyly and then fixed Leslie with a penetrating eye.

‘I wouldn’t like you to think,’ he said, ‘that justice in Corfu is always dispensed like that, but I had a long conversation with Spiro about the case and after some deliberation I decided that your crime was not as bad as the man’s. I hoped it might teach him not to swindle foreigners in future.’

‘Well, I really am most grateful to you,’ said Leslie.

The judge gave a little bow. He glanced at his watch.

‘Well, I must be going,’ he said. ‘By the way, thank you so much for those stamps you sent me yesterday. Among them were two quite rare ones which were new to my collection.’

Raising his hat he trotted off across the Esplanade.

What seest thou else in the dark backward and abysm of time?

– S
HAKESPEARE
,
The Tempest

Not very long after Leslie’s court case, Margo was beset by another affliction to keep company with her acne. She suddenly started to put on weight and before long, to her horror, she was almost circular. Androuchelli, our doctor, was called in to view this mystery. He uttered a long series of distressed ‘Po, po, po’s’ as he viewed Margo’s obesity. He tried her on several pills and potions and a number of diets, to no effect.

‘He says,’ Margo confided to us tearfully at lunch one day, ‘that he thinks it’s glandular.’

‘Glandular?’ said Mother, alarmed. ‘What does he mean, glandular?’

‘I don’t know,’ wailed Margo.

‘Must we always discuss your ailments at mealtimes?’ inquired Larry.

‘Larry dear, Androuchelli says it’s glandular,’ said Mother.