‘How long will it be?’

‘A few days.’

‘A few days? It is not good enough,’ said Zoltan.

‘It’s Sardinia,’ said Smiler with a shrug.

As he said this, a rope slipped on the cradle holding one of the crates and a warning shout went up from a crewman as the net swung out crazily over the water.

Zoltan swore loudly and colourfully, calling his men every name he could think of, and thankfully they got the crate under control and lowered it gently to the quay.

Smiler watched. Was he amused? It was hard to tell.

10

You Can’t Eat a Picasso

Victor’s table was set with the weirdest food James had ever seen.

There was the figure of a naked woman sculpted out of food – her body made of cheese, her skin ham, her hair salad leaves and her lips cherries. There was a bowl of pasta dyed dark blue with cuttlefish ink, a loaf of bread baked in the shape of a motor car, two stuffed cats for decoration and a live lizard that crawled slowly over the table. There were bright-red lobsters and spiny crabs with long spindly legs. There was a tray of tiny fish with their heads and tails still attached, and scooped-out sea urchins containing little orange stars. There were edible flowers, vegetables carved into the shape of flowers, the fruits of a prickly pear cactus, a bowl of green jelly with toy soldiers suspended in it, and, in the middle of it all, on a gleaming silver platter, an octopus with purple tentacles.

‘Welcome, James,’ said Victor as they sat down. ‘This is a surrealist feast created by the great Poliponi.’

‘It is food as art, and art as food,’ said the artist teasing, the pointed horns of his black hair. ‘You cannot eat a Rembrandt,’ he said, ‘or a Picasso. You cannot fill your stomach with a Michelangelo statue! But tonight you will devour a genuine Poliponi.’

He broke off a piece of bread and popped it in his mouth. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘in the true spirit of surrealism, we will start with the dessert and finish with the soup.’

He took a scoop of jelly and slopped in on to James’s plate.

‘Please don’t think me stupid,’ said James, fishing a soldier out with his spoon. ‘But what exactly is “surrealism”?’

‘It is the greatest artistic movement of the century,’ said Poliponi. ‘From now, realism is dead. Why would I want to paint a picture of a vase of flowers, or a sunset? If you want a picture of the real world, then take a photograph. My art goes beyond reality. I paint the world of dreams, of fear, of desire. Everything that goes on inside your brain. The purpose of my art is to free the conscious mind and express the subconscious. To show you that the world we live in is ABSURD!’

The food may have looked absurd, but it all tasted good. Victor showed James how to crack open the lobster to get at the juicy flesh inside its claws and tail. And, once he’d overcome his squeamishness, he found the tiny fish were crispy and full of flavour. He discovered that the orange stars inside the sea-urchin shells were their eggs. He scooped them out with a spoon and tried them. They were gritty and tasted of the sea but not unpleasant. The only thing he wasn’t sure of was the octopus. Poliponi put three pieces of tentacle on to his plate, saying he must eat them.