2
Unluckily our hotel was opposite the cemetery. As we sat in our rooms looking out of the windows we saw lots of funerals go by. For each funeral six or seven black cabs pulled by black horses and full of crying family and friends dressed in black made their way into the cemetery. Then came the coffin on a cart also pulled by horses. Some coffins were white others were black. They all looked like big birthday cakes covered in a sea of flowers. The people of Corfu clearly thought that the best part of dying was the funeral and when I saw their funerals I had to agree. Mother did not see it the same way.
I’m sure it’s an epidemic!’ she said. ‘So many of them all at once. It’s not natural
‘Mother. There’s nothing unnatural about dying. People do it all the time!’ said Larry.
‘Yes but so many of them at the same time. I’m sure something’s wrong.’
‘Perhaps they save them up and bury them together’ said Leslie unfeelingly.
‘No I’m sure it’s the toilets here. Haven’t you noticed the smell? And there’s no paper in them! Most unhealthy!’
Margo’s face went green. ‘I think I feel ill! Perhaps I’m getting it’ too.’
‘Don’t be silly dear. Maybe it isn’t the kind of illness you can catch easily!’
‘But an epidemic is always an illness that people catch easily!’ said Leslie sensibly.
‘Well said Mother ‘then we’ll have to move. We must find a house in the country at once.’
The next morning we went looking for houses.
Mr Beeler’ a fat little man who worked at the hotel went with us. He looked full of life when we started out but after showing us a number of villas in different places on the island he began to look very tired.
‘Mrs Durrell’ he said. ‘I have shown you every villa that I know and you do not want any of them. What is the matter?’ Mother looked at him in surprise.
‘But didn’t you notice ? None of them had a bathroom.’
Mr Beeler’s eye grew big and round.
‘Mrs Durrell ‘he said. “Why do you need a bathroom? Haven’t you got the sea?’
We went back to the hotel in silence.
The next day Mother decided that we should take a taxi and go looking for houses by ourselves. She still wanted a villa with a bathroom.
When we got to the big square in the centre of the town the taxi drivers all got out of their cars stood round us and began shouting at us. To us it seemed like an argument but in fact each man was only trying to get us to choose his taxi. ‘Do something!’ said Mother helplessly. ‘Tell them that we don’t understand them.’
Margo stepped forwards smiling.
‘English! English!’ she shouted. ‘We don’t understand Greek!’
At that moment a deep voice behind us call out.
‘Hey! Way don’t you choose someone who can speak your own language?’
We turned and saw an old Dodge car with a short fat man at the wheel.
He got out and came towards us. Then he stooped and stared at the other drivers angrily.
‘Are they worrying you?’ he asked.
‘No no’ lied Mother. ‘We just couldn’t understand the,.’
‘They are very bad men’ he said. ‘They sell their own grandmothers for the right price. Excuse me!’
He turned and shouted at the other drivers in Greek and they went back to their cars. Then he turned
Back to us. ‘Where do you want to go?’ he asked. ‘We are looking’ said Mother ‘for a villa with a bathroom’ ‘Sure. I can take you’ he replied. ‘Get into the car.’
We climbed into the car and he drove round carts donkeys and dogs and past groups of village women. And as we hurried on our driver spoke to us.
‘You English? Thought so. English people always want bathrooms. I have a bathroom in my house. Spiro’s my name. Spiro Hakiaopulos . I learnt my English in Chicago. Went to make money. Then after right years I came back to Corfu with this car.’
We were now driving hurriedly along a dry white country road – past olive trees and fields of vines – and we suddenly stooped at the top of a hill.
‘There you are’ said Spiro looking down the valley. ‘ That’s the villa with the bathroom just like you wanted.’ Mother who had kept her eyes shut during the drive now opened them and looked. The sky was bright blue. The sea was shining the olive trees were silvery-green and there was a small pink villa halfway up the hill in the middle of the valley in front of her. It looked like a lovely pink strawberry lying on a green plate. The minute that we knew that we wanted to live there.
So we moved into the strawberry-pink villa and we soon felt at home there in our different ways. Margo put on a tiny swimsuit and went to lie in the sun among the olive tree. In this way she made friends with a number of handsome young men from the nearly village who came out of nowhere to help her when her chair needed moving or when a fly was worrying her.
Larry unpacked his books and tried to write. But on the second morning he found it difficult to concentrate because someone from the village had tied a donkey to a tree outside his bedroom window. In the end Mother and I had to untie the donkey and take it away down the hill so that Larry could have some quiet.
Leslie had unpacked his guns and from his bedroom window he was now trying to shoot an old tin off the garden wall. Larry got very angry at this because the loud bangs were once more stooping him from concentrating on his writing. So Mother made Leslie go and do his shooting some way from the house which helped a little.
Mother too was feeling at home busily cooking and looking after the garden. And Roger and I felt very happy looking round the garden for hours.