sitting on a lily-pad, his throat distendedand pulsing with his queer little song. His body was fat and freckled, like a laurel leaf by moonlight, and the light struck back from eyes bright as blackberry-pips. Close by him sang another, and then another …
Amused and interested, I stood very still. Growing every moment in volume, the chorus gobbled happily on.
Silence, as sudden as if a switch had been pressed. Then my frog dived. All around the lily-pads the surface ringed and plopped as the whole choir took to the water. Someone was coming up the path from the bay.
For a moment I wondered if Phyllida had been down to the beach to find me; then I realised that the newcomer was a man. His steps were heavy, and his breathing, and then I heard him clear his throat softly, and spit. It was a cautious sound, as if he were anxious not to make too much noise. The heavy steps were cautious, too, and the rough, hurried breathing, which he was obviously trying to control, sounded oddly disquieting in the now silent woods. I let the bushes slip back into place, and stood still where I was, to wait for him to pass.
The dimming light showed him as he emerged into the clearing; Greek, someone I hadn’t seen before, a young man, thick-set and broad-chested, in dark trousers and a high-necked fisherman’s sweater. He carried an old jacket of some lighter colour over one arm.
He paused at the other side of the pool, but only to reach into a pocket for a cigarette, which he put between his lips. But in the very act of striking thematch, he checked himself, then shrugged, and put it away again, shoving the cigarette behind his ear. He could not have indicated his need for secrecy more plainly if he had spoken.
As he turned to go on his way, I saw his face fairly clearly. There was a furtive, sweating excitement there that was disturbing, so that when he glanced round as if he had heard some noise, I found myself shrinking back behind my screen of leaves, conscious of my own quickened heartbeats.
He saw nothing. He drew the back of a hand over his forehead, shifted his coat to the other arm, and trod with the same hasty caution up the steep path towards the Castello.
Above me a sudden gust of wind ran through the treetops, and chilly air blew through the trunks with the fresh, sharp smell of coming rain.
But I kept quite still until the sound of the Greek’s footsteps had died away, and beside me the frog had climbed out again on to his lily-pad, and swelled his little throat for song.
6
Methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him
.
I . 1.
F OR some reason that I never paused to examine, I didn’t tell my sister about my visit to the Gales, not even when next morning she decided that for once she would go down to the bay with me, and, as we passed the pool, pointed out the path that led up to the Castello.
The clearing looked very different this morning with the high clear light pouring into it. There had been a sudden little snap of storm during the night, with a strong wind that died with the dawn, and this had cleared the air and freshened the woods. Down in the bay the sand was dazzling in the morning sun, and the wake of the wind had left a ripple at the sea’s edge.
I spread a rug in the shade of the pines that overhung the sand, and dumped our things on it.
‘You are coming in, aren’t you?’
‘Sure thing. Now I’m down here, nothing will stop me from wallowing in the shallow bit, even if I do look like a mother elephant expecting twins. That’s a smashing swimsuit, Lucy, where’d you get it?’
‘Marks and Spencer’s.’
‘Good heavens.’
‘Well, I didn’t marry a rich man,’ I said cheerfully, pulling up the shoulder-straps.
‘And a fat lot of good it does me in my condition.’ She looked sadly down at her figure, sighed, and dropped her smart beach coat down beside the hold-all containing all the sun-lotions, magazines, Elizabeth Arden cosmetics and other paraphernalia without which she would
Amused and interested, I stood very still. Growing every moment in volume, the chorus gobbled happily on.
Silence, as sudden as if a switch had been pressed. Then my frog dived. All around the lily-pads the surface ringed and plopped as the whole choir took to the water. Someone was coming up the path from the bay.
For a moment I wondered if Phyllida had been down to the beach to find me; then I realised that the newcomer was a man. His steps were heavy, and his breathing, and then I heard him clear his throat softly, and spit. It was a cautious sound, as if he were anxious not to make too much noise. The heavy steps were cautious, too, and the rough, hurried breathing, which he was obviously trying to control, sounded oddly disquieting in the now silent woods. I let the bushes slip back into place, and stood still where I was, to wait for him to pass.
The dimming light showed him as he emerged into the clearing; Greek, someone I hadn’t seen before, a young man, thick-set and broad-chested, in dark trousers and a high-necked fisherman’s sweater. He carried an old jacket of some lighter colour over one arm.
He paused at the other side of the pool, but only to reach into a pocket for a cigarette, which he put between his lips. But in the very act of striking thematch, he checked himself, then shrugged, and put it away again, shoving the cigarette behind his ear. He could not have indicated his need for secrecy more plainly if he had spoken.
As he turned to go on his way, I saw his face fairly clearly. There was a furtive, sweating excitement there that was disturbing, so that when he glanced round as if he had heard some noise, I found myself shrinking back behind my screen of leaves, conscious of my own quickened heartbeats.
He saw nothing. He drew the back of a hand over his forehead, shifted his coat to the other arm, and trod with the same hasty caution up the steep path towards the Castello.
Above me a sudden gust of wind ran through the treetops, and chilly air blew through the trunks with the fresh, sharp smell of coming rain.
But I kept quite still until the sound of the Greek’s footsteps had died away, and beside me the frog had climbed out again on to his lily-pad, and swelled his little throat for song.
6
Methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him
.
I . 1.
F OR some reason that I never paused to examine, I didn’t tell my sister about my visit to the Gales, not even when next morning she decided that for once she would go down to the bay with me, and, as we passed the pool, pointed out the path that led up to the Castello.
The clearing looked very different this morning with the high clear light pouring into it. There had been a sudden little snap of storm during the night, with a strong wind that died with the dawn, and this had cleared the air and freshened the woods. Down in the bay the sand was dazzling in the morning sun, and the wake of the wind had left a ripple at the sea’s edge.
I spread a rug in the shade of the pines that overhung the sand, and dumped our things on it.
‘You are coming in, aren’t you?’
‘Sure thing. Now I’m down here, nothing will stop me from wallowing in the shallow bit, even if I do look like a mother elephant expecting twins. That’s a smashing swimsuit, Lucy, where’d you get it?’
‘Marks and Spencer’s.’
‘Good heavens.’
‘Well, I didn’t marry a rich man,’ I said cheerfully, pulling up the shoulder-straps.
‘And a fat lot of good it does me in my condition.’ She looked sadly down at her figure, sighed, and dropped her smart beach coat down beside the hold-all containing all the sun-lotions, magazines, Elizabeth Arden cosmetics and other paraphernalia without which she would
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