“Why did you put hot water in the ouzo?” asked Leslie belligerently.
“Because we have no cold,” said the barman, surprised that Leslie should not have worked out this simple problem in logic for himself. “That is why we have no ice. This is the maiden voyage, kyrie, and that is why we have nothing but hot water in the bar.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Larry brokenly. “I just don’t believe it. A maiden voyage and the ship’s got a bloody great hole in her bows, a Palm Court Orchestra of septuagenarians, and nothing but hot water in the bar.”
At that moment Mother appeared, looking distinctly flustered.
“Larry, I want to speak to you,” she panted.
Larry looked at her. “What have you found? An iceberg in the bunk?” he asked.
“Well, there’s a cockroach in the cabin. Margo threw a bottle of Eau de Cologne at it, and it broke, and now the whole place smells like a hairdresser’s. I don’t think it killed the cockroach either,” said Mother.
“Well,” rejoined Larry. “I’m delighted you have been having fun. Have a red-hot ouzo to round off the start of this riotous voyage.”
“No, I didn’t come here to drink.”
“You surely didn’t come to tell me about an Eau de Cologne-drenched cockroach?” asked Larry in surprise. “Your conversation is getting worse than the Greeks for eccentricity.”
“No, it’s Margo,” Mother hissed. “She went to the you-know-where and she’s got the slot jammed.”
“The ‘you-know-where’? Where’s that?”
“The lavatory, of course. You know perfectly well what I mean.”
“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” said Larry. “I’m not a plumber.”
“Can’t she climb out?” enquired Leslie.
“No,” said Mother. “She’s tried, but the hole at the top is much too small, and so is the hole at the bottom.”
“But at least there are holes,” Larry pointed out. “You need air in a Greek lavatory in my experience and we can feed her through them during the voyage.”
“Don’t be so stupid, Larry,” said Mother. “You’ve got to do something.”
“Try putting another coin in the slot thing,” suggested Leslie. “That sometimes does it.”
“I did,” said Mother. “I put a lira in but it still wouldn’t work.”
“That’s because it’s a Greek lavatory and will only accept drachmas,” Larry pointed out. “Why didn’t you try a pound note? The rate of exchange is in its favour.”
“Well, I want you to get a stewardess to help her out,” said Mother. “She’s been in there ages. She can’t stay all night. Supposing she banged her elbow and fainted? You know she’s always doing that.” Mother tended to look on the black side of things.
“In my experience of Greek lavatories,” said Larry judiciously, “you generally faint immediately upon entering without the need to bang your elbow.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake do something!” cried Mother. “Don’t just stand there drinking.”
Led by her, we eventually found the lavatory in question. Leslie, striding in masterfully, rattled the door.
“Me stuck. Me English,” shouted Margo from behind the door. “You find stewardess.”
“I know that, you fool. It’s me, Leslie,” he growled.
“Go out at once. It’s a ladies’ lavatory,” said Margo.
“Do you want to get out or not? If you do, shut up!” retorted Leslie belligerently.
He fiddled ineffectually with the door, swearing under his breath.
“I do wish you wouldn’t use bad language, dear,” protested Mother. “Remember, you are in the ladies’.”
“There should be a little knob thing on the inside which you pull,” said Leslie. “A sort of bolt thing.”
“I’ve pulled everything,” rejoined Margo indignantly. “What do you think I’ve been doing in here for the last hour?”
“Well, pull it again,” suggested Leslie, “while I push.”
“All right, I’m pulling,” said Margo.
Leslie humped his powerful shoulders and threw himself at the door.
“It’s like a Pearl White serial,” said Larry, sipping the ouzo that he had thoughtfully brought with him and which had by now cooled down. “If you’re not careful we’ll have another hole in the hull.”
“It’s no good,” said Leslie panting. “It’s too tough. We’ll have to get a steward or something.”
He went off in search of someone with mechanical knowledge.
“I do wish you’d hurry,” said Margo, plaintively. “It’s terribly oppressive in here.”
“Don’t faint,” cried Mother in alarm. “Try to regulate your breathing.”
“And don’t bang your elbows,” Larry added.
“Oh, Larry, you do make me cross,” said Mother. “Why can’t you be sensible?”
“Well, shall I go and get her a hot ouzo? We can slide it in under the door,” he suggested helpfully.
He was saved from Mother’s ire by the arrival of Leslie, bringing in tow a small and irritated puppet-like man with a lugubrious face.
“Always the ladies is doing this,” he said to Mother, shrugging expressive shoulders. “Always they are getting catched. I show you. It is easy. Why woman not learn?”
He went to the door, fiddled with it for a moment, and it flew open.
“Thank God,” said Mother, as Margo appeared in the doorway. But before she could emerge into the bosom of her family, the little man held up a peremptory hand.
“Back!” he commanded, masterfully. “I teaches you.” Before we could do anything intelligent, he had pushed Margo back into the lavatory and slammed the door shut.
“What’s he doing?” squeaked Mother in alarm. “What’s he doing, that little man? Larry, do something.”
“It’s all right, Mother,” shouted Margo, “he’s showing me how to do it.”
“How to do what?” asked Mother, alarmed.
There was a long and ominous silence, eventually broken by a flood of Greek oaths.
“Margo, you come out of there at once,” ordered Mother, considerably alarmed.
“I can’t,” wailed Margo. “He’s locked us both in.”
“Disgusting man,” cried Mother, taking command. “Hit him dear, hit him. Larry, you go for the Captain.”
“I mean, he can’t open the door either,” said Margo.
“Please to find Purser,” wailed the little man. “Please finding Purser for opening door.”
“Well, where do we find him?” asked Leslie.
“It’s too ridiculous,” said Mother. “Are you all right? Stand well away from him, dear.”
“You find Purser in Purser’s office, first deck,” yelled the imprisoned man.
The ensuing scene, to anyone who does not know the Greek temperament and their strange ability to change a perfectly normal situation into something so complicated that it leaves the Anglo Saxon mind unhinged, may find what followed incredible. We, knowing the Greeks, did also. Leslie returned with the Purser, who not only added to the redolence of the Ladies’ with his garlic, but in quick succession complimented Larry on drinking ouzo and Leslie on his Greek accent, soothed Mother with a large carnation plucked from behind his ear, and then turned such a blast of invective on the poor little man locked up with my sister that one expected the solid steel door to melt. He rushed at it and pounded with his fists and kicked it several times. Then he turned to Mother and bowed.
“Madam,” he said, smiling, “no alarm. Your daughter is safe with a virgin.”
This remark confused Mother completely. She turned to me for explanation, as Larry, knowing this sort of fracas of old, had repaired to the bar to get drinks. I said I thought he meant she would be as safe as a virgin.
“He can’t mean that,” she said suspiciously. “She’s got two children.”
I began to lose my bearings slightly as one always seemed to do when confused by the Greeks. I had just taken an unwisely deep breath to embark on an elaboration for my Mother, when I was mercifully stopped by the arrival of three fellow passengers, all large, big-bosomed, thick-legged peasant ladies, with heavy moustaches and black bombazine dresses three times too small, smelling of garlic, some sickly scent, and perspiration in equal quantities. They elbowed their way between Mother and myself and entered the lavatory. Seeing the Purser still dancing with rage and pounding on the door, they paused like massive war-horses that have scented battle.