“Hmmm,” he said. “What else have you got in this shop?”
He seemed genuinely interested and so I told him about what we had in the shop and about Mr Romilly, and I was wondering whether to tell him about Mr Bellow, but I had been sworn to secrecy on that so I decided not to. When we reached my stop I got to my feet.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said. “I’ve got to get off here.”
“Hah,” he said. “Hah. Yes, so have I. So have I.”
It was perfectly obvious that this was not his stop and that he wanted to continue talking to me. We got down on to the pavement. My rather liberal and eccentric upbringing had left me in no doubt as to the arts and wiles of a pederast. I knew, for example, that even military-looking gentlemen with monocles could be thus inclined, and the fact that he had got off at a stop that was not his argued an interest in me which I felt might possibly turn out to be unsavoury. I was cautious.
“Where’s your shop, then?” he said, swinging his cane between his finger and thumb.
“Just over there, sir,” I said.
“Ah, then I’ll walk there with you.”
He strolled down the pavement gazing intently at the shops as we passed.
“Tell me,” he said, “what do you do with yourself in your spare time?”
“Oh, I go to the zoo and the cinema and to museums and things,” I said.
“Do you ever go to the Science Museum?” he inquired. “All those models, and things like that?”
“I like that very much,” I said. “I like models.”
“Do you? Do you?” he said, screwing his monocle in and glaring at me. “You like to play, do you?”
“Well, I suppose you could call it that,” I said.
“Ah,” he said.
We paused outside the door of the Aquarium.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, sir,” I said. “I’m... I’m rather late as it is.”
“Wondered,” he said. “Wondered.”
He pulled out a wallet and extracted from it a card.
“There’s my name and address. If you’d like to come round one evening, we could play a game.”
“That’s, er..., very kind of you, sir,” I said, keeping my back firmly to the wall.
“Don’t mention it,” he said. “Hope to see you, then. Don’t bother to ring up... just call. I’m always there. Any time after six.”
He strolled off down the street, very much the military man. There was no trace of mincing or of effeminacy about him but I was not so innocent as not to know that these were not essential manifestations of homosexuality in a person’s character. I stuffed his card into my pocket and went into the shop.
“Where have you been, you naughty boy?” asked Mr Romilly.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said. “But... but I... I had a little accident on the bus. The bottom fell out of the box and all the terrapins got out, and a Colonel chappy helped me to pick them all up but it delayed us a bit, I’m very sorry, Mr Romilly.”
“That’s alright, that’s alright,” he said. “It’s been a very quiet afternoon. Very quiet... very quiet. Now, I’ve got the tank ready for them if you’d like to put them in.”
So I put the baby terrapins in the tank and watched them swimming about, and then I took out the colonel’s card and looked at it. “Colonel Anstruther” it said, “47 Bell Mews, South Kensington ” and it had a telephone number. I mused on it for a bit.
“Mr Romilly,” I said. “You don’t know a Colonel Anstruther, do you?”
“Anstruther? Anstruther?” said Mr Romilly, frowning. “I can’t say that I do... Ah, but wait a bit, wait a bit. Where does he live?”
“Bell Mews,” I said.
“That’s him. That’s him!” said Mr Romilly, delighted. “Yes, yes... yes. That’s him. A fine soldier. And a very fine man, too. Was he the person who helped you pick up the terrapins?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Ah, just like him. Always a man to help a friend in need,” said Mr Romilly. “They don’t breed them like that nowadays, you know. They don’t breed them like that at all.”
“So he’s..., um..., well-known and, er..., respected?” I said.
“Oh, yes, indeed. Yes, indeed. Everyone knows him in that area. They’re all very fond of the old Colonel.”
I pondered on this information for some time, and then I thought that perhaps I would take the Colonel up on his invitation. After all, I thought, if the worst came to the worst I could always scream for help. In spite of the fact that he had told me not to ring I thought I had better be polite, so a few days later I phoned him up.
“Colonel Anstruther?” I asked.
“Yes. Yes,” he said. “Who’s that? Who’s that?”
“It’s, um..., my name is... Durrell,” I said. “I met you on the bus the other evening. You were kind enough to help me catch up my terrapins.”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “Yes. How are the little chaps?”
“Fine,” I said. “They’re... they’re doing fine. I wondered if, perhaps, I could... take you up on your kind offer of coming round to see you?”
“But of course, my dear chap. Of course!” he said. “Delighted! Delighted! What time will you be here?”
“Well, what time would be convenient?” I asked.
“Come round about six-thirty,” he said; “come to dinner.”
“Thank you very much,” I said. “I’ll be there.”
Bell Mews, I discovered, was a short, cobbled cul-de-sac with four small houses on each side. What confused me to start with was that I did not realise that the Colonel owned all four houses on one side which he had knocked into one, and he had, with a brilliant display of the military mind, labelled each door “ 47”. So after some moments of confusion I finally knocked on the nearest door marked “ 47” and waited to see what would happen. While I waited I reflected upon the stupidity of having four houses in a mews a hundred feet long all labelled “ 47”, and if it came to that, where were all the other numbers? They were presumably scattered round the various roads and other similar mews in the vicinity. The postman’s lot in London, I felt, must be a very unhappy one.
At that moment, the door marked “ 47” that I had knocked on was flung open and there stood the Colonel. He was dressed, to my consternation, in a bottle-green velvet smoking jacket with watered silk lapels, and he brandished in one hand a carving knife of prodigious dimensions. I began to wonder whether I had been wise to come after all.
“Durrell?” he said inquiringly, screwing his monocle into his eye. “By Jove, you’re punctual!”
“Well, I had a little difficulty,” I began.
“Ah!” he said. “The forty-seven foxed you, did it? It foxes them all. Gives me a bit of privacy, you know. Come in! Come in!”
I edged my way into the hall and he closed the door.
“Good to see you,” he said. “Come along.”
He led the way, at a brisk trot, through the hall, holding the carving knife in front of him as though leading a cavalry charge. I had a brief glimpse of a mahogany hatstand and some prints on the wail, and then we were in a large, spacious living-room, simply but comfortably furnished, with piles and piles of books everywhere and colour reproductions on the walls of various military uniforms. He led me through this and into the large kitchen.
“Sorry to rush you,” he panted. “But I’ve got a pie in the oven and I don’t want it to get burnt.”
He rushed over to the oven, opened it and peered inside.
“Ah, no, that’s alright,” he said. “Good... good.”
He straightened up and looked at me.
“Do you like steak and kidney pie?” he inquired.
“Eh, yes,” I said, “I’m very fond of it.”
“Good,” he said. “It’ll be ready in a moment or two. Now, come and sit down and have a drink.”
He led me back into the living-room.
“Sit you down, sit you down,” he said. “What’ll you drink? Sherry? Whisky? Gin?”
“You, er..., haven’t got any wine, have you?” I said.
“Wine?” he said. “Yes, of course, of course.” He got out a bottle, uncorked it, and poured me a glass full of ruby red wine which was crisp and dry. We sat chatting, mainly about terrapins, for ten minutes or so and then the Colonel glanced at his watch.