Gerald Durrell - Fillets of Plaice

What I had not noticed, and it was very remiss of me, was that both the terrapins and the moss which Mr Van den Goth had put in the box were excessively moist. During my wanderings round the shop this moisture had soaked through the bottom of the cardboard box with the not unnatural result that as I climbed up the stairs to the top of the bus and was just about to take my seat, the entire bottom of the box gave way and a cascade of baby terrapins fell on the floor.

It was fortunate for me that there was only one other occupant on the top of the bus and he was a slender, military-looking man, with a grey moustache and a monocle, wearing a very well-cut tweed suit and a pork-pie hat. He had a carnation in his buttonhole and a malacca cane with a silver knob. I scrabbled madly on the floor collecting the terrapins, but baby terrapins can move with extraordinary speed when they want to and I was heavily outnumbered. Suddenly, one of them rushed up the central alley of the bus and turned in by the military-looking man’s foot. Feeling it clawing at his well-polished shoe, he glanced down. God, I thought, now I’m for it! He screwed his monocle more firmly into his eye and surveyed the baby terrapin which was making a laborious effort to climb over the toe of his shoe.

“By George!” he said. “A painted terrapin! Chrysemys picta ! Haven’t seen one for years!”

He looked round to see the source from which this little reptile had emanated and saw me crouched, red-faced, on the floor with baby terrapins running madly in all directions.

“Hah!” he said. “Is this little chap yours?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I’m sorry, but the bottom has fallen out of the box.”

“By George, you’re in a bit of a stew, what?” he shouted.

“Er..., yes..., I am, actually.”

He picked up the baby terrapin that had managed to get on the toe of his shoe and came down the bus towards me.

“Here,” he said, “let me help. I’ll head the bounders off.”

“It’s very kind of you,” I said.

He got down on his hands and knees in the same position that I was in, and we crawled together up and down the bus collecting baby terrapins.

“Tally-ho!” he would shout at intervals. “There’s one going under that seat there.”

Once, when a small terrapin approached him at a run, he pointed his malacca cane at it and said, “Bang! Bang! Back, sir, or I’ll have you on a charge.”

Eventually, after about quarter of an hour of this, we managed to get all the baby terrapins back into the box and I did a rough splinting job on it with my handkerchief.

“It was very kind of you, sir,” I said, “I’m afraid you’ve got your knees all dusty.”

“Well worth it,” he said. “Well worth it. Haven’t had sport like that for a long time.”

He screwed his monocle more firmly in his eyes and gazed at me.

“Tell me,” he said. “What are you doing with a great box full of terrapins?”

“I... I work in a pet shop and I’ve just been down to the wholesalers to get them.”

“Oh, I see,” he said. “Do you mind if I come and sit near you and have a chin-wag?”

“No, sir,” I said. “No.”

He came and planted himself firmly on the seat opposite mine, put his malacca cane between his knees, rested his chin on it and gazed at me thoughtfully.

“Pet shop, eh?” he said. “Hmmm. Do you like animals?”

“Yes, very much. They’re about the only thing I do like.”

“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.