Fillets of Plaice, by Gerald Durrell Read Online Free PDF

could give you any one of a number of interesting diseases.
    “They do not seem very happy in dis village,” observed Max.
    “What do you expect?” said Donald. “Lot of damned foreigners. Now, if this were England it would be different.”
    “Yes,” said Larry sarcastically, “we'd be doing Morris dancing with them in next to no time.”
    Although the concentrated stare our male audience had not really changed, it had now in our nervous state begun to look positively malevolent.
    “Music,” said Sven, “it soothes the savage beast. I will play you a tune.”
    “Well, for God's sake, play something cheerful,” said Larry. “If you start playing Bach to them I can see them all going and getting their muzzle-loaders.”
    Sven hitched his accordion into position and played a very charming little polka which should have softened any Greek's heart. But our audience remained unmoved though it seemed as though there was a slight lessening of tension in the air.
    “I really do think that Margo, Leonora and I ought to go back to the boat,” said Mother.
    “No, no, my dear Mrs Durrell,” said Mactavish, “I assure you I know this situation so well. It takes time for these primitive people to adapt themselves to you. And now, since Sven's music has had no effect, I think the tune has come for magic.”
    “Magic?” said Theodore, leaning forward and gazing at Mactavish intensely, deeply interested. “How do you mean, magic?”
    “Conjuring,” said Mactavish. “In my spare time I'm a bit of a conjuror.”
    “Dear God,” groaned Larry. “why not give them strings of beads?”
    “Oh, do shut up, Larry,” hissed Margo. “Mactavish knows what he's doing.”
    “Well, I'm glad
you
think so,” said Larry.
    Mactavish strode off purposefully into the cafe and reappeared with a plate on which were four eggs. He placed these carefully on the table and stood back so the silent audience of villagers could observe.
    “Now,” he said, gesticulating in a professional conjurer's manner, “my first trick is the egg trick. May I borrow some sort of receptacle from one of you?”
    “A handkerchief?” inquired Donald.
    “No,” said Mactavish, giving a glance at his audience of villagers. “I think something a little more spectacular. Mrs Durrell, would you be kind enough to lend me your hat?”
    Mother, during the summer months, used to wear a large straw hat that, in view of her minuteness, made her look somewhat like an animated mushroom.
    “I don't want egg all over it,” she said.
    “No, no, I assure you,” said Mactavish, “there's no danger.”
    Reluctantly, Mother removed her straw hat and handed it to Mactavish. With a great flourish he placed it on the table in front of him, glanced up to make sure the villagers were watching, took an egg and placed it carefully in the hat. Then he squeezed the brim together and gave it a resounding blow on the side of the table.
    “If we save all the bits,” said Larry, “I suppose we could have an omelette.”
    Mactavish, however, unfurled the hat and displayed it to us in such a way that the villagers could see that it was completely empty and egg-less. He then took a second egg and did precisely the same thing and again the hat was empty and egg-less. As he did the same again with the third egg I saw animation starting to creep into the eyes of our village audience, and after the fourth egg one or two of the men were actually exchanging whispered remarks. Then, with great flamboyance, Mactavish showed us all the completely empty and egg-less hat and showed it also to the villagers. He then placed it on the table and folded up the brim once more, then opened it and with perfect timing took out four absolutely intact eggs and placed them on the plate.
    Even Larry was impressed. Of course, it was a simple job of what conjurers call palming; that is to say, you appear to put a thing into something, whereas in actual fact it is in your hand and you conceal it on some part of your anatomy. I had seen it done with watches and other