Authors: J. P. Donleavy
I'll do your head."
"Can I stay here tonight."
"Yes. I think you ought to have a bath."
"I've got to get out of this damn country. Honest to Christ."
"Any pennies?"
"None."
"You'll have to have a threepenny bath."
Helping him to take off his clothes. Out into this damp bathroom with the bathtub up on lion's paws and the cold sticky floor. In blub, gurgle slub dub glub. Foamy white face, no one to recognize me. Forever to walk backwards in the streets. The yellow light and green cracked ceiling. All last year you were in here in the tub while I was haunted and sad on Howth.
"Come away with me, Chris"
"You've had too much to drink. Say that when you're less confused."
"What? I say, confused."
"Turn around and let me dry your back."
"I want you to."
"I just can't suddenly decide something like that."
"You want to?"
"Where? And your wife and child?"
"We'll all manage."
"And your degree?"
"Have to wait till I can regain my senses. I am in an awkward position."
"You are."
"You're giving me the evil treatment. Now I don't deserve that"
"Pull the light. I'll make you some chocolate."
No way out except the big way. I have put myself into a most unfortunate position. I hope to God that they don't catch me and put me in prison. They saw me ride madly through all the streets of Dublin. Please don't put me in Mountjoy prison, unless I'm given charge of the library. To be married to you, my dear Chris. But what has confounded me is blood. I was such a believer in blood, establishing the dynasty of Dangerfield, honorable kings of kingdoms and I have gotten as far as i Mohammed where the shit falls from the ceiling in a most sickening way and the bread is a week old and the tea like iron filings. I desire to be away in a more civilized country. What's to happen to me when I am old. And bent and busted.
Chris bringing two white cups to the table. She is all undressed wearing a robe. My head feels better. And she fills the hot water bottle. I can only say roll up the carpet of the earth and put it away till next summer, things will be better then. We two in the bed together. I think this is the only peace I have had for years. My dear Chris, to put my hand on your bare arse is such a pleasure. And to touch and feel you're near, for both of us are protection. All together in here. And we are, aren't we? Let us pray. To St. Jude for the impossible or is it allowed to pray for an orgasm?
I can't bear to get out into the chill air with my legs all stiff and head hard with some of the things that have been on my mind all night
Sound of Chris dressing. She put a tray beside his bed before leaving. Of toast and one piece dipped in dripping, a slice of bacon and cup of coffee. She kissed him on the head, tucked him in, whispered his breakfast was there and was gone.
Spending the afternoon reading and worrying. A look, now and again, out the window to see what was to be seen. Police or informers. But just casual persons. Mostly bent and carrying. But it would terrify the life out of me were I to see the squad cars out there. My only hope is to lie low and maybe grow a moustache.
The bed is pleasant With my head resting. If I had the things which are in this room. Lust brought us together. But a horrid word. I think love. But what puts us apart in the bed at night I turn over on my shoulder away from her and her back and go to bye byes trying to be alone. I can't even remember what I do with Marion. Being the sort of person I am, I make life pleasant for everybody. I'm not hard to live with. No bad breath or secret vulgarities. My dear Chris, I hear your feet
"Hello, Chris."
"You're an awful liar"
"What?"
"Here in the paper"
Chris hands him the paper. Center and fat and black with the size of print and reading:
MAN AMUCK IN PUBLIC HOUSE
Chase through streets
What was reported by a witness to police as a most savage attack took place in Kelly's Garden Paradise, licensed premises, yesterday evening.
A man described as "foreign looking" with an English accent was reported to have entered above premises in a threatening mood and to have set upon the occupants in a wild way.
Witness to the attack told police that he was having a quiet drink with friends when there was shouting and commotion. He turned to see a man throwing a bottle of whiskey at the head of the bartender who ducked and went down through a trap door in the floor. The man then vaulted over the bar and smashed everything in sight. He turned upon occupants who had no alternative but to escape to the street
The accused then ran away and was followed by witness who alerted Guards. He found the man hiding in a hallway but was threatened with violence and told to give up his hat and coat. Culprit then escaped on a bicycle. Several Guards and citizens gave chase to the top of Stephen's Green but all trace was lost in Cuffe Street where it is thought he may still be in hiding.
Guard Ball, who returned to the scene of attack for evidence, stated that the general condition of the premises gave every indication of being that of a battlefield.
Witness, whose four fingers were broken in the attack, was treated at St. Patrick Dunn's Hospital and allowed to go home. The search for the culprit, described by police as being tall, of light complexion, wearing tan trousers and sports coat, is being continued as it is thought that he may be insane. His eyes were given as very wild.
"Libel."
"Sound as if you were attacked."
"I was, and set upon viciously."
Chris silent, bending over the gas ring. Dangerfield sits strained and pitiful on the edge of the bed. The
Evening Mail
hangs open between his knees, eyes tearfully seeing that big print O there was a man amuck.
Sebastian stands and walks to Chris's side. He puts his hand on her rump, taking up flesh in his fingers. Her head turns away from his mouth and pushes down a hand from her breast
"If that's the way you want to be, Chris"
"It is"
"All right"
He goes to the door, opens it quickly, closes it quietly, steps into the drizzle and street, bleak and black.
Dear Blessed Oliver, martyred, quartered and generally chopped up, I'll tell you one thing, see me right out to the Rock without a horde hounding me and I'll publish thanksgiving in the
Evening
Mail,
On the empty evening bus coming down the curving hill into the Rock. Neon lights. Little line of figures waiting at the cinema. A delightful little place.
Stepping off the bus, walking swiftly to the green door of i Mohammed. Knocking. Nothing. A few knuckles on window. No sound, no light inside. He went back to the door. Pushed it and pulled. Locked and stuck. He withdrew a pace and lunged. The door fell down. Gingerly into the hall, he picked it up and pushed it back in place. He yelled. Nothing. Up the stairs, the bedroom empty. Nobody home.
And the weather was so dreary and dark. All night now. The only thing the rain does is to keep down the dust and me. Now Marion, you blue blood from Geek, wife and washer, slave to all me dirty little wants, where and what have you done and gone.
He came downstairs into a barren sitting room and kitchen. A white paper on the stove held down under a tin of beans.
As you can see, I have moved.
11 Golden Vale Park
The Geary
Co. Dublin.
I don't know what to do except this sounds like a house with running water and I could do with a bath. Perhaps it's nice. Get the hell out of here before Skully sticks his thick skull in for rent or. some other repulsive request The Geary, A rather posh area I gather. Golden Vale Park. O lovely. Say that again. Golden Vale Park.
There was one last house in the road of houses squat, semi and detached with concrete blocks dividing off front gardens of tiny lawns and flower beds. Passing number seven and nine, houses of caution and saving and iron gates to stop dogs' befoulment. People who lived here owned cars. My God has she only taken a room and maybe nowhere for me.
He paused in front of the little green gate to examine the latch which was quite tricky. In the garden were choice rhododendrons and the odd laurel. At the side a garage attached to the house. What in heaven's name have you done this for or why and you didn't tell me. I won't have it The rain running off the leaves and bing in puddles. I'll just walk up this concrete path and make believe I've come to the wrong house. Looks like a garden in the back, a path around the side. This calls for indignation. I won't have it, I say, I just will not stand for this.
Could hear the bell ringing inside. And the steps coming. Can't see a thing through this frosted glass.
Door comes ajar.
"Let me in for God's sake, Marion."
Door slams.
"I say, Marion, are you alone? Really, this is ridiculous behavior. You can't do this"
Circling the house with great care looking for flaws. The lavatory window open. Sebastian scrabbled up the wall, knees knocking out the stuccoed stones and he fell, head first into the washbasin. Marion was in the door.
"Why don't you leave me alone. You desperate bastard."
"Don't call me a bastard when I'm breaking my damn neck trying to get in this house. For Christ's sake help me on to the floor. Why didn't you let me in the door?"
"Because I don't want you in the house. This is my house and I can call the police and have you thrown out"
"For the love of God, Marion, have you no mercy? Look at me, I'm soaked to the skin"
"And you weren't home last night"
"Delayed"
"What happened to your head"
"A frightfully decent chap asked me to play squash and I busted my head on the wall. A damn good player, but I just managed to beat him"
"O get out why don't you"
"Just for playing squash? I say, let's play the game, A most influential chap. His father owns—"
"Get out I spent all day packing and moving and I'm not going to listen to you lie."
"Forgive me. It's such a nice house. Just let me look around. Are you here alone. All this ?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"My business"
"But Skully."
"You can still live there."
"O Jesus. Come on. Look, just five minutes' peace. It's got a hall. This is very nice, Marion. Can I see in here?"
Sebastian moving around the house followed by Marion, teeth clenched and silent. A sitting room with these divan beds, one of them along the wall and a definitely pre-war radio. Three chairs to sit in and a carpet and some pictures of horses and hounds racing across the wall.
"Wow."
"I'm not going to let you ruin this for me."
"Not at all. I'll leave. Just let me have a quick bath. I'll die with a case of death."
"Die, but this is my house."
Sebastian bent with inquiry looked in the rooms. A morning room with a desk and table and fire. A pleasant wooden statue with a cross on the belly on the mantelpiece. A win- below, in one of your operas. Perhaps a little chorus after each act
Down in Dingle
Where the men are single
Pigwidgeon in the closet
Banshee in the bed
An antichrist is suffering
While the Gombeen man's dead.
Down in Dingle.
Your friend,
S.D.
dow overlooking the back garden with rows of good things. Must get in here at all costs.
"Where do you sleep?"
"In there"
Marion pointed to the door.
"Let me stay, Marion. Please. I promise to abide by anything you say but I've just got to get a little security—"
"Ha. Ha"
"That's true. Just because I'm big and strong. Just look at this muscle. But it doesn't mean that I can't be stricken by the insecurity that's in it Please."
"If there is even the suspicion of drink I'm having you put out."
"You're wonderful, Marion. This is frightfully good of you—"
"That's enough of that"
"Anything you say, Marion."
"And be quiet, Felicity is asleep next to the bathroom."
"Mum's the word."
Great splashing in the suds. And after a pot of tea. Marion with arms folded, hiding her breasts from his beast's eyes and watching the disappearance of a loaf of bread and package of margarine. He put his arm around her shoulders, a hand over her wrist Naked in a blanket, he pointed to the garden, a gray weird wave of leaves.
"Marion, there's food out there for sure."
On the land
A plant
On the plant
A leaf.
This man
Ate
The leaf.
By the use of delusive enticements, Sebastian dug in at 11, Golden Vale Park. Several nights after ten thirty, he went by circuitous routes to i, Mohammed Road to quietly pilfer divers articles. These were carried in gray bags for parcelling stout. One large mirror was traded for a bowler hat at his broker, a ruse to avoid recognition. And arrangements made with the
Evening Mail
for publication of thanksgiving to Blessed Oliver.
The landladies called to tea. An elderly Protestant couple, sisters, of a class living on investments. They hoped that Sebastian and Marion would keep up the garden, because they had several rare Himalayan plants given by a cousin, a member of the Royal Horticultural Society. And they would leave their Wedgwood, finding them such a delightful couple, Mr. Dangerfield a student at Trinity, well, it really made them feel secure right from the start. And we were so upset about renting at first, the sort of people one might get these days, Dublin isn't as it used to be of course, people making money with shops and these people running the country.
Sebastian with votive eyes, their loyalist words, tender drops of balm. I am deeply delighted to be dealing with these people of Protestant stock. Their spinster eyes glistening with honesty. Yes, the front gate, clumsy boors moving their things had broken it, careless bounders indeed, have a reliable man deal with it forthwith, it's been such a pleasure to have you both. Do come again. And I'm having a load of manure laid on the garden. Bye, bye.
This house was in a dead end. It was both secret and trapped. Can't have everything. And I prefer to have the coal bin out of doors. Doesn't do to hang suits over the coal. I can breathe again, grow flowers and eat for nothing. Almost
Marion said they ought to let the sitting room and it would pay half the rent. She wasn't going to slip back into poverty again and be hounded day in and out by lecherous moneymongers. Sebastian volunteered putting in the ad, on condition that they rent to a Catholic.
"I won't have a Catholic living in my house. They can't be trusted. Nor do they bathe."
"Marion. That's absolutely preposterous. Let's have a little democracy here, I say"
"I hate Catholics."
"Must forgive a little spiritual scruffiness."
Marion gave in. Sebastian sat down at the desk in the morning room and on a clean piece of paper composed:
Bed-sittingroom. The Geary. Quiet and select. Conveniences. Business girl preferred, N.D., R.C., T.T.
Simplicity. Non-dancer weeds out the fancy and flippant T.T. is always good for the respectability. However, have it understood that this is a house of freedom.
Saturday evening both notices appeared. Under Thanksgiving:
Grateful thanks to Blessed Oliver for deliverance. Publication Promised.
Monday afternoon, Sebastian collected the answers. They were good gas. Three with enclosed photographs, one rather risqué. But I shall not tolerate indecency. God forgive the Catholics.
It was a matter of selecting a good name. There was a Miss Frost. Lilly Frost. A straightforward inquiry. Send a letter and ask her to come see the room.
Miss Frost arrived wearing a tweed coat and hat. A botanist for a seed company. Of medium build and suggestion of the middle thirties. Sebastian offered that if Miss Frost were interested, the back garden was available for her work. The curtains of the morning room were parted and Miss Frost said the ground looked to be in good heart
Can see her out there after work with the spade. Wouldn't mind seeing a few bits of the food coming free. They say that gardening is good for you.
Miss Frost agreed to take the room and said she would like to move in immediately as she would be glad to be out of the place where she was. Miss Frost seemed an interesting person. Showing the first signs of age, slight belly under the chin, nervous smile, mouth thin and bit drawn, living out the last years of fertility. And respectability.
After she had gone, Sebastian sat in a chair he called his own with an adjustable back. Could lie supine and watch the ceiling. After awhile it moved. Time to take stock. Look at things in retrospect. Come a long way. From Rock to Geary, from low to the middle, from coal in the closet to coal in the bin, from the tap outside to the tap inside, from cold to the hot. Away from the broken doors and walls to carpets and Wedgewood. My broker will be surprised. I only miss the trams, lovely trolley that took me by stiff track to Dublin and back. No doubt Mr. Skully will be a little upset to find us gone due perhaps to the lease and maybe the odd pound outstanding, O dear, it's a selfish world. But I'd say Skully will have his hands full to find me now. It's so pleasant here. And I think I'm going to enjoy having little talks with Miss Frost about the garden.
On Wednesday evening Miss Frost arrived in a taxi with her things. Sebastian came smiling to the door. The room was ready. A lamp engineered by the bed for reading. It was grand. Furniture dusted and polished with lavander wax. A runner fixed on the curtain. It was a fine room. Plenty of shrubbery outside the window keeping out the light. My favorite room. Darkness gives a sense of security but nothing's too good for the boarder.
Me and Marion have twin beds. Better that way. Don't want lust and fecund congress. I went into chemists for those things when I first came to Ireland. I said, may I have a dozen. The man said to me, how dare you ask for such a thing and he hid behind the counter till I left. Naturally I thought he was mad. I went further up the street. Man with a great grin, how do and what not, I let me teeth out for second. I noticed his were a little black. I put it to him pleasantly, asking for the American tips if possible. I saw his face go down, slouch of the jaw, hands twitch and a bottle break on the floor. The woman waiting behind me indignantly swept out of the shop. The man in a hoarse whisper said he didn't deal in things like that Also to please go away because the priests would put him out of business. I thought the gentleman must have something against the American tips which I prefer. I entered another shop and bought a bar of Imperial Leather for the class standing that was in it Quietly I put it to him for a half dozen with English tips. I heard this man utter a low prayer, sweet mother of Jesus, save us from the licentious. He then blessed himself and opened the door for me to leave. I left thinking Ireland a most peculiar country.
I took to studying again and found having that splendid beverage made from the cacoa bean, most pleasant with Miss Frost Marion said she had to get her sleep, so Miss Frost and I would sit for an hour talking of an evening.
"Miss Frost, forgive me my question, but I'm intensely interested in Irish boarding houses. You did stay in one?"
"I did, Mr. Dangerfield. It doesn't bear repeating, but one gets used to them."
"Now, how is that Miss Frost?"
"Well, Mr. Dangerfield, some of them are nice enough people but it was hard to get a proper night's rest with the goings on."
"Now what sort of goings on, Miss Frost ?"
"It would be embarrassing to tell you, Mr. Dangerfield."
Miss Frost with her slight, shy smile and pale lids dropping over her eyes. I think her lashes were gray. She had worked in England as a land girl. Saved money. Wanted to go into business for herself. She said she was go-ahead.
Miss Frost would sit across from him at the kitchen table. At first they had their drink in the morning room but as they got to know each other a little better, the air relaxed and they sat around the kitchen table. One evening she said she hoped Mrs. Dangerfield would not object to her talking with her husband alone, the way they were.
There were a few weeks like this. Weeks with a sunny security. Until one morning. Alone in the house. Chilly and clouds stuffing the sky. squeezing out the rain. There came a suspicious knock on the front door. Action stations. Sebastian quickly to Miss Frost's room for a hasty look out on the steps. My God, I am indeed a cooked geek. Surveying sullenly. hands angelically twisted. the rain dripping from his black hat. stood the malcontent. ingrate, Egbert Skully. Suck in my breath so as not to make a sound. Use the tip toe. I hope desperately that the front bloody door is locked. Take a chalice and get to the back fast
Sebastian turned the key in the kitchen door. He pulled the curtains of the morning room. There was another knock at the front door. then steps down and steps coming round the side of the house. Sebastian went to the front door. Locked. Returning to Miss Frost's room, drawing the curtains tightly across with an inch to see out from and wait A rapping on the back door. That nosey bastard. I have been tracked down. I have been found out. Travel only at night, under heavy disguise with trinkets and trash and crippled and otherwise incapacitated. The pity.
Sebastian gave a squeal
"Eeeeeee."
Skully rapping on the window just on the other side of those curtains and they were vibrating with the awful concussion of it. I'm a fool. I pulled the curtains. Skully has noticed it. You dirty little bastard. Thank the Jesus the doors are locked. Must be calm. Fear a state and condition of the mind, maybe. In theory I'm here but really I'm gone. Use the mental telepathy, as good as anything in a situation like this. Mr. Skully. Mr. Egbert Everad Skully. Listen to me. Mr. Dangerfield, Mr. Sebastian Balfe Dangerfield, has gone to Greece. I tell you he's in Athens playing a drum. He left a month ago on the Holyhead boat because he didn't want that tiresome trip to the Liverpool He's not behind this green curtain with the red flowers as you think he is, terrified and ready to cough up a few quid to get rid of you. Go away from this house and forget him. What's fifty quid anyway. It's nothing. You're well rid of this bastard, Dangerfield. Mr. Skully, can't you hear me? I tell you, I'm in Greece.
More raps on the window. Telepathy having no effect This Irish animal can't have any brain to receive the message. How long can this pig keep it up. Boor. Philistine most odious. Right now I would like to become a particular Percival Buttermere O.B.E. and come to the door complete with walking stick and pajamas, look out, see Skully, step back and with a great deal of British nasality, I say my good man, are you mad? What, just what are you trying to do. Would you mind awfully not rapping on my windows and getting off my front porch. Are you the coal man? Then go around to the back, my cook will deal with you, if you're not, would you mind frightfully removing yourself, you're most suspicious looking.
Suddenly Skully turned. He fiddled with the front gate. Closing it carefully behind. Giving it that unopened look.
Jittery, Sebastian went for a rest in the supine chair. Please, God, don't let Skully meet Marion or my goose will be cooked beyond recognition. I'm a man sitting here discovered. Only thing for it is to get a few quid to him. Mail them from East Jake. That black beast will be here, morning, noon, night and the hereafter and times between. O tis a world filled with woe and misunderstanding. Get the rent from Miss Frost and send off a few bob. Must now take precautions and everything organized for the siege.
And the fear. It's coming up from my toes and makes me feel empty and sick. I feel I'm standing before a blackness. Have to jump it and I won't make the other side. Blessed Oliver I put it to you again, get me through these exams. You may think me only a conceited Prod but there is more to me than that. And they judge me. Just with a paper with those little questions. And I can just see myself coming to the notice board O dreadful day. Looking at the paper with the names neatly on it Naturally I start with the first honors and then second and the last names of the third honors. No Sebastian Dangerfield. And the small note of damnation at the bottom of the white paper. One candidate unsuccessful. What do I know about law. Can't park in the middle of the street or make too much noise or present a state of undress to the public. And I know no man would ravish a maiden within age, neither by her own consent, nor without her consent, nor a wife or maiden of full age, nor other woman, against her will on penalty of fine and imprisonment either at the suit of a party or of the King.
O there are a few things I know all right And make up the odd case, never check up. Geek versus Gook. Why do you hound me so, Skully.
Marion arrived in through the garage with an armful of groceries.
"Sebastian?"
"What?"
"I thought you were going to do these dishes?"
"Couldn't"
"Why not?"
"Skully."
"What do you mean?"
"He was groping around the house all morning."
"O no."
"O yes. I told you."
"I knew it wouldn't last"
"Nothing, my good Marion, lasts"
"O dear."
"Quite."
"Will our lives ever be free."
"Cheer up, the worst's over."
"O shut up—we're back where we started."
"Not at all. At the end, Marion."
"And you tell me how we're going to explain all this hiding and not answering the door and things, to Miss Frost ?"
"You're forgetting Miss Frost is Catholic How do you think they survive in Ireland ? "
"And
when he's snooping about ?"
"I'll send him a money order from the North of Dublin. Enclose a note telling him I'm staying there with friends"
"He won't be fooled"
"But must try. Any and every ruse. We must warn Miss Frost"
"Don't for heaven's sake"
"We've got to"
"Why?"
"Suppose Skully comes around some evening, pulling at doors and rapping on the windows. We can't sit here and do nothing. I'll just explain to Miss Frost that I met one of those people who go on outings from Grangegorman, mad as a hatter, bought him a drink and he's been after me ever since. She'll understand. This city's full of them."
"What a dreadful business it all is."
"Now Marion, cheer up. Have heart. Everything is going to be all right. Just leave it to me."
"I've made that mistake before. Why did we have to sign that lease. We'll have to pay the rent till it's up."
"A custom of the country. Just relax. Change our schedule of living. Tell Miss Frost about this crazy man—Catholics have great respect for the insane—and tell her we have to have the front of the house blacked out."