Flamingo Flying South

by Joyce Dingwell

  Georgia said nothing, but Kate was enthusiastic.

  'I always wanted to be a—' she began to plan.

  'Hush,' Grip reminded her. 'Strictly secret!'

  Because he had missed a day's work, he asked Kate to work now, and the two of them retired to the office, where, thought Georgia unkindly, he could not stand at the window at night and snoop.

  Olympia loved entertaining, and she came to Georgia the next day with a list of dishes from Yiannis they both thought would be nice for the gentleman. Georgia nodded rather listlessly. She wished tonight was over; she was not looking forward to talking to Justin while Grip Smith sat listening to what was said.

  After she had put the boys to bed, still excited over the approaching gala, she bathed and dressed, choosing a colour Justin had always liked. When she came out into the pass­age, it was to see Kate coming down the stairs in the same colour.

  'Snap!' Kate called with a laugh.

  'I'll change,' offered Georgia.

  'No, I will.'

  'Neither of you will,' said Grip Smith, joining them. 'That gold suits Kate as well as gold suits you, Miss Paul. I think we'll be having a very rich night.'

  He instructed Yiannis about the wine temperatures, then, hearing a car climb the hill, went out to the wide patio.

  Justin swung his car to the steps, asked would it be all right there, then got out.

  'Gigi, you look a million,' he greeted. 'Good evening, Grip'… so he, too, was on first names with the great Agrippa Smith… 'and may I introduce myself to—'Why—Katherine!' He stood as though turned to stone.

  Kate, who had followed the others to the patio, stood incredulous as well.

  As Grip Smith said, 'So you two know each other,' Geor­gia remembered Justin's 'Katherine', Katherine whom he had been engaged to, Katherine because of whom he had not been able to respond when Georgia had said, 'In our home later.'

  Katherine… Kate. The same girl. The same very lovely, violet-eyed girl.

  She stepped aside as Kate stepped forward, as Justin came out of the night to take her extended hand in his.

  CHAPTER NINE

  But that was all there was. Just a handshake. No—'We've met before.'—'It's been a long time, Katherine.'—'How have the years treated you, Justin?' Simply a nod of ac­knowledgment, and then light talk as Grip led the way to the lounge for pre-dinner drinks.

  Here, the conversation flowed easily enough. There was the boat for Justin to account for, how the tugging off had gone, how there had been no more mishaps. Then Medi­terranean affairs became the next topic. Was Grip using any of the current happenings in his latest book? As a specialist in world affairs what did he think of the present position? That took them until Olympia came to the door and an­nounced dinner.

  The charming arrangement of the table diverted them through the first course. Olympia had availed herself of the present grape harvest, now keeping the pickers and the haul­age trucks busy, by forming a horn of plenty as the main decoration. The huge single bunch of large purple grapes extending along the entire length of the festive board was festooned with ribbons and had been cunningly lit, by Geor­giou, with small coloured lights. Resting as it did on the exquisite Lefkara lace cloth, lace learned by the Cypriots from the Venetians many centuries ago, it made a con­versation piece that Georgia felt was needed, though, she told herself, glancing at Kate and Justin who were smiling and talking airily enough, we are matured, we are no longer young and green.

  It was she who was young, Grip said indulgently, when, in a lapse of the conversation, she called, as the boys had: 'Karnivali! Karnivali! Karnivali is coming!'

  'Karnivali is for young and old,' she defended.

  He simply raised his brows paternally upon her, and his amicability irritated her much more than his usual astringency could have.

  'The boys are masking,' she said. 'They're very excited. It's taken in earnest here. It's a secret affair, not just eye concealment, or some semi-disguise.'

  'All the Mediterranean play their games seriously,' came in Grip. 'The adults will dress up, too, and be just as sec­retive. How about it, Kate and Justin? I thought we might form a foursome and join the port festivities. The Con­tinental is putting on a gay evening. Shall I book?'

  They both agreed, if not as gaily, considered Georgia, as the gay occasion seemed to demand.

  'It must be secret, though,' warned Grip. 'If we know in advance it would spoil the intrigue.'

  'Now who's a child?' Georgia pounced with triumph, but, there was never any triumph to be won from Agrippa Smith, he now simply shrugged and made a joke of his serious­ness.

  The rest of the meal, the remainder of the evening, went smoothly and uneventfully. Even after Justin had departed, Kate said nothing, and apparently felt nothing. She called lightly, 'I'm ready for bed. Good night, both of you.' She went upstairs.

  For a few moments longer Grip Smith smoked his pipe. If he had been aware of anything, he made no mention of it, but then unless you had known, as Georgia had known, of a Katherine who undoubtedly was Kate, you would not have noticed any difference in an atmosphere designed strictly to be social and keeping strictly to that plan.

  'See to the youngsters that they get what they want for this shindig, Miss Paul,' Grip Smith directed.

  'Karnivali' she nodded.

  'Fix up your own thing, too. I think'… he said the name of the firm at which he had opened an account on her behalf… 'should be able to accommodate you.'

  'And you?'

  'Oh, I'll participate,' he assured her.

  'Can I help?'

  'It's secret, remember.'

  'Yes, but if you need assistance—'

  Grip was at the other end of the room, pipe in his mouth. He took it out and laid it down. His eyes were levelled on her.

  'Assistance? No. No, it's not assistance I want from you.'

  Georgie took it literally. Her cheeks burning, she said 'Good night,' and went to her room. Soon afterwards she heard him mounting the stairs to his room at the end of the hall… from Kate's.

  It was a long time before Georgia slept.

  The next day the school vacation began, though as the boys had so many friends now, Georgia knew a lot of the school activities would continue up in the hill house. Which was good. Although Bish and Seg got on well together, she did not wish them to become the introverted small couple com­pletely dependent on each other that they had been prior to their enrolment in the village school.

  Since there was no need to drive them to classes, they begged to be driven instead to the shop on the by-pass where the best masks were. Fortunately it was the store her charge plate covered, so the three of them set out after breakfast in the small car.

  As they rimmed the looking-glass sea, peacock blue this morning, Georgia remarked how a pirate's mask, or even one portraying Richard Coeur de Lion who must still haunt these shores, would be in keeping, but, like all the Karnivali participants, their little lips were buttoned.

  Both boys loved a day in Limassol. They always visited the zoo and aviary, always examined the shops. But one thing they insisted on, and Georgia sighed now as she had hoped the mask-buying would divert them from it, was a soda at the Yellow House in St. Andrew Street, which bore a sign: 'We will answer any query free of charge.'

  It had appealed to the pair. Every time they came to town they had a soda and made a query. Georgia was becoming a little embarrassed, though the soda shop lady, like all Cypriot Greeks dedicated almost passionately to the young, did not seem put out, even when Seg had asked her once: 'Were you here, too, when Paul and Barnabas were?'

  'No, little one.'

  'You're not charging for that, are you, it says so on your sign.'

  'No, little one. What is more, you can have this sweetmeat if your mother permits.'

  'She's not our mother.'

  The proprietress had looked inquiringly at Georgia. The Cypriots had a warm interest in all humanity, but this ques­tion was not going to be answered
, Georgia had decided, neither freely nor for reward.

  She hoped the boys would keep their questions simple today.

  They did. They simply asked did the proprietress think it would be fine weather for Karnivali?

  'But yes. It is always fine weather for Karnivali.'

  She answered confidently, and Georgia knew she had centuries of foundation to answer like this behind her. For here it was Camelot, and rain, and cold, and snow only came when ordered.

  'It will be starry. There will be a big moon,' said the lady.

  'You're telling us a lot more than we asked,' said Seg dubiously. 'Will it still be free?'

  'Yes, my little ones.' To Georgia: 'Ah, the delights of children!'

  Sometimes, Georgia thought.

  They drove to the store, and there Georgia was ordered to remain in the car and watch Seg while Bish chose, then when Bish emerged with his purchase well wrapped she was to watch Bish while Seg chose.

  After that they sent Georgia in, checking with each other that neither peeped on her. Laughing at the absurdity of it, but still sufficiently a child herself to enjoy the fun, Georgia went into the shop.

  The Cypriots certainly took Karnivali seriously, if one could be said to take amusement seriously. The usual goods like wearing apparel, saucepans and pans, had been pushed aside, and now fancy dresses, dresses of all nations, every mask Georgia could have dreamed about, from bird, animal, nursery rhyme, public figure, king, queen, fairy princess, gnome and monster… many monsters, from benevolent spectacled ones to really gruesome offerings… hung on every wall, were arranged on every rack, offered themselves on every table.

  Georgia felt lost. She did not fancy a bird or animal for herself, though she had no doubt that Grip Smith would have chosen that Bugs Bunny for her, and queens and prin­cesses were also not for her rather unregal type. She did not want a monster, even a kindly bespectacled one. Then she saw Alice, and knew that Alice in Wonderland would be quite all right in any company. She made the purchase and came out again.

  The boys looked longingly at her paper parcel, they were childishly consumed with curiosity. Not so Georgia over them, for she could see the shape of a beak in Bish's parcel, and had no doubt he was to be some type of bird at the children's Karnivali on the day before the celebration for the adults, and that Seg, judging by that ear peeping out of his purchase, was to emulate Peaceful, the donkey.

  But—'Karnivali, Karnivali!' that once blasé pair shouted, so nothing mattered, smiled Georgia.

  She called 'Karnivali', too.

  As the Yellow House lady had said, Karnivali was a fine day. It was the time of the sirocco wind, that kind southerly breeze that blew across from the Sahara, bringing with it a feel of sunsoaked sand, ripe dates, whispering palms. It would be perfect for the festival.

  The procession was in the morning, but on the night pre­vious the boys had dressed and masked and joined other dressed and masked confederates… sheiks, sultans, stone age men, ghosts, robots, monsters in profusion… jingling their pocket in the hope of mils for Karnivali spending. Georgia found, as Grip had found, nothing outrageous in this now, it was simply children's day, and children out to snare as much as they could for the kiddie cars, the hooplas, the spun sugar stall, most of all the stall with the long grape confectionery, which comprised a string that had been lowered into grape syrup time after time until it formed a toffee-hued, sausage-shaped sweetmeat.

  It was difficult to pick Bish and Seg; like their friends they never once removed their masks for air. They took it all very gravely. Georgia put the bird down as Bish, the donkey head as Seg, but knowing that crafty pair, quite likely they were fooling her, and masking the other way about. Just to make sure of confusion they could have changed with any of the boys. Voices could not help, either, not emerging as they did from papier maché.

  In the end, Kate, Grip and Georgia stopped trying to crack the mystery, and handed over coins instead, small value coins to a pair who only a month ago had calmly signalled and taken a taxi, who had probably, drawled Grip, lit their chocolate cigars with a banknote.

  The children got into the procession, and Grip drove the girls to a hotel whose verandah had been offered to him.

  It was an exciting parade. The skirl of the bagpipes of a visiting Scottish regiment led it, then an army band helped out, local bands, groups of singers and serenaders. The floats were ambitious, the clowns on stilts hilarious. Karnivali, Karnivali—it was everywhere. Everyone clapped and was glad. Balloons soared, streamers were flung.

  'You have pink snow on your hair,' Grip said to Georgia as they pushed through the crowds to the car again. 'Can't you ever get away from that colour?'

  She put up her hand to remove the confetti.

  'No,' he said abruptly, 'don't.'

  She looked at him, surprised.

  'Karnivali,' he said.

  The boys were put to bed before tea that night, a tray taken to them. They were absolutely exhausted.

  'Did you guess who we were?' they giggled at Georgia as she sat at the end of the bed.

  'Yes, I think both of you changed with Mathos and Christophus to fool me, I think you were the sheik that everyone thought was Mathos, Bish, and you were the monster every­one thought was Christophus, Seg.'

  They laughed triumphantly. 'We knew you would,' they said shrewdly, 'so we were just what we brought, a bird and a donkey.'

  'Tomorrow,' said Seg, 'we're going to dress up for Buttons, Purr, Peaceful and the Pink One. Do you think they'll know we're humans?'

  'We'll see,' said Georgia. 'Tomorrow I dress up, too.'

  'Don't tell us, let us guess.'

  'Yes, darlings, but it's been a long day. Sleep now.'

  She need not have directed it, the boys had already slipped off.

  There were more masked visits the next day. As Grip said feelingly of an emptied pocket, empty of jingle: 'The young never know where to stop.'

  Georgia, who had had a hilarious morning with the boys as they had tried to fool the menagerie, and was in Karnivali mood herself, retorted: 'Tonight we won't know where to stop.'

  'What do you mean, Miss Paul?' he said in mock scandal, and, as ever, her flags of embarrassment had shown in her cheeks. He had laughed as she had gone off.

  They were to dine in the Continental at eight, but to keep up the secret spirit of the frolic there were to be no pre-drinks, no pre-conversation. The big car would be drawn up at the steps, and the girls were to get in and be driven to the hotel. The men were going separately and would meet them at the reserved table.

  By half past seven, Georgia was ready, and she ran to the boys' room to let them see her.

  She was a little deflated at their silence. Either they did not like her get-up, or could not recognize it, yet it was still attractive, and they were pretty knowledgeable small fry.

  She stood waiting… and waiting… Then:

  'We don't know who you are,' said Bish.

  'You're Alice in Wonderland,' said Seg, 'but which?'

  Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed, and becoming Cinderella instead of Alice, Georgia ran out, leaving the boys to their wonder, even though it made her wonder. Then she stopped wondering. Coming down the stairs was another Alice, which made for sense, for all the masks, though varied in type, were similar. Kate, too, had chosen to be Alice.

  'Snap!' called Kate, as she had before.

  'What do we do?' laughed Georgia.

  'Too late to do anything, and anyway, it should make for fun.'

  Giggling, they went out to the car.

  It was a magic night. The Cypriots, always akin to nature, to the time and the tune of the year, had selected full moon, a great gold cut-out of a moon. The stars were magnificent.

  The streets teemed with people. It was as though every adult had watched the children at play and resolved that it was their turn tomorrow. It took a long time for Georgiou to get the car to the Continental's canopied front.

  The girls got out, received a cannona
de of confetti as they ran up the red carpet, then into the hotel.

  From that moment, it was a mad, mad whirl.

  A table had been booked, but Georgia only saw it once in the entire evening. As soon as she entered the candlelit in­terior, she was seized upon by revellers, the other Alice the same, and from then on it went a merry way.

  In the short period when she did visit their reservation it was to discover with amusement that the same as had hap­pened to Kate and herself had happened to the men. For the girls had two sheiks as escorts. It was not surprising, really, Georgia thought, for when it came to male masks, if one was not a comedian, or monster addicted, there was not so much choice.

  She had no chance to think about that, though, she was grabbed by a pirate and whirled away in a waltz.

  Whirled then by a cutting-in space man to perform a rhumba, by a king to do a tango, after that all the foot-tapping dance tunes the two alternating bands supplied.

  Then a third band was rendering bouzouki music, and Cypriots… men only as was the tradition… were taking the floor in Zorba style. They danced seriously, even gravely, very emotionally, and Georgia felt her senses accel­erating with the accelerating rhythm.

  She had seen it before, and had swayed then, as now, to the intoxication of it, to the strange experience, for experi­ence was all she could call it, of arm-entwined men moving as if impelled not by themselves but by some other source backwards and forwards to the haunting notes. That they wore odd clothes now only added to her deep impression, and she was not aware until a hand drew her to her feet and led her to the dance floor again that the bouzouki theme had ended, that a waltz again was drifting round the room.

  She danced in the sheik's arms a little drunkenly, drunk from the gipsy strains of the bouzouki… a little drunk, she thought, too, from the sweet Aphrodite wine that had been pressed on her.