41 Snails

41 Snails

The doctor glanced out of the window and saw Captain Corelli creeping up on Lemoni in order to give her a surprise. At the same time Psipsina leapt foursquare onto the page he was writing about the French occupation, and this combination of circumstances inspired him with a wonderful idea. He set down his pipe and his pen, and ventured out into the incandescent sunlight of the early afternoon.

`Fischio!' exclaimed the captain, and Lemoni squealed.

`Excuse me, children,' said the doctor.

`Ah,' said Corelli, straightening up sheepishly, `Kalispera, Iatre. I was just...'

`Playing?'

He turned to the small girl, `Koritsimou, do you remember when you found Psipsina when she was very little and was hanging on the fence? And you made me come along to rescue her?'

Lemoni nodded importantly, and the doctor asked, `Are all the snails still there?'

`Yes,' she said. `Lots. Big ones.' She pointed at Corelli, `Bigger than him, even.'

`When is the best time to find them?'

`Early and late.'

`I see. Can you come round this evening and show me again where they were?'

`After dark's best.'

`We can't go out after dark, there's a curfew.'

`Before dark,' she agreed.

`What was all that about?' asked the captain, when Lemoni had departed.

Stiffly the doctor said, `Thanks to you there's almost no food. We're going out this evening to find snails.'

The captain bridled, `The blockade is British. They have the idea that they can best help you by starving you. As you know very well, I have done my best to help.'

`Your borrowings at the expense of the Army are very much appreciated, but it's a pity that the situation even arises. We need the protein. You can see what we've been reduced to.'

`At home snails are an expensive luxury.'

`And here they are a regrettable necessity.'

The captain wiped the perspiration from his forehead and said, `Permit me to come and help.'

So it was that in the evening, an hour before the setting of the sun and shortly after the cooling of the day, Pelagia and her father, Lemoni and the captain, found themselves crawling through the impossible tangle of animal runs and briars, having climbed the crumbling wall and negotiated their way beneath the branches of ancient and neglected olives.

The doctor was crawling behind Lemoni, and suddenly she stopped and looked round at him. `You said,' she reproached him, `you said that if you went round looking for snails, you'd be taken somewhere and locked up:

`Piraeus,' said the doctor. `I said I'd be taken to Piraeus. Anyway, we're all locked up nowadays.'

It became apparent in that dingy light that upon the undersides of the lower leaves there were legions of fat snails, competing with each other for variegation of design. There were tawny snails with almost invisible markings, there were light snails with whorls of stripes, there were snails of ochre yellow and bright lemon, and snails of red speckles and black dots. In the upper branches the Sicilian warblers cocked their heads and flitted about, listening to the dull clacks and pings as the harvest was gathered and dropped into the buckets.

The child and the three adults became so absorbed in their task that they did not notice themselves becoming separated. The doctor and Lemoni vanished down one tunnel, and the captain and Pelagia down another. At some point the captain found himself on his own, and paused for a second to reflect upon the curious fact that he could not remember ever having felt so contented. He carelessly deplored the state of the knees of his breeches, and squinted up at the reddening sun as its crimson light softened amongst the twigs and leaves. He breathed deeply and sighed, relaxing back upon his heels. He poked with a forefinger at a snail that was attempting to crawl out of the bucket. 'Bad snail,' he said, and was relieved that there was no one near to hear him utter such inanities. In the distance an anti-aircraft gun cracked, and he shrugged his shoulders. It probably was nothing.

Horrified by the terrible thought that perhaps she had been struck by falling shrapnel, the captain fell to his hands and knees, and crawled quickly back along his tunnel towards the place from which the exclamations had come.

He found Pelagia, apparently paralysed into a contorted posture that had left her neck ticked backwards. She was on her hands and knees, a long thin streak of

blood was beading diagonally across her cheek, and she was clearly in a state of extreme irritation.

Corelli reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, and dabbed at the graze. He showed her the blood and said lightly, 'I'll treasure this forever.'

He was obliged to reach his hands over her shoulders and peer past her ear in order to see what he was doing. She found her face pressing into his chest, and she took in the rough texture and dusty aroma of his uniform. `You're squashing my nose,' she protested.

Corelli sniffed appreciatively; Pelagia always smelled of rosemary. It was a young, fresh scent, and it reminded him of festive meals at home. 'I might have to cut this,' he said, pulling futilely at the black strands that had wound themselves about the thorns.

`You're in a very vulnerable position,' he remarked, 'so just try to appear grateful.'

He tugged it out, piece by piece, ensuring that he let no hairs slide between his fingers to cause her any pain. His arms began to ache from being held so much in a stretched and horizontal position, and he rested his elbows on her shoulders. 'I've done it,' he said, pleased with himself, and began to draw back. She shook her head with relief, and as the captain's lips passed by her cheek, he kissed it gently, before the ear, where there was an almost invisible, soft down.

She touched her fingertips to the site of the kiss, and reproached him, 'You shouldn't have done that.'

He knelt back and held her gaze with his own. 'I couldn't help it.'

They looked at one another for a long moment, and then, for reasons that even she could not fathom, Pelagia began to cry.

She smiled pitifully, and set once more to crying. He took her in his arms and patted her back. She felt her nose begin to run, and became anxious that she might leave mucus on the epaulette of his uniform. She sniffed hard in order to preclude this eventuality. Suddenly she blurted out, 'I can't stand it any more, not any of it. I'm sorry.'