Authors: J. P. Donleavy
They parted at the station. Where the red trains went in went out. An Earl's Court for sure. And I ride along on these nice cars looking at everyone.
Back at the hotel crawling weary on the heavy bed. Face on the pillow, covers up over me. And cars squealing around the corners out there.
I set sail all right. Saw the lights of Holyhead. The black Liverpool. And the still birds standing up on top of that building. Cotton, meat and grain. I look down from the deck into the faces terrified of recognition. Safe only at sea. I got breakfast, a three-penny paper, and looked at all those girls in red lips and curlers. I'm alone. And took the train. The land was gray. And when I got here all the others were taking big cars and taxis everywhere and I had no one and just walked down the platform wondering what to do. I see them all greeted with kisses.
And not
One
For me.
Upon London Sunday, Sebastian Dangerfield went by advice of MacDoon to a place in the Bovir Road where he took a room on the top floor of this yellow Victorian house. Tiny tidy room. A soft bed covered with green ticking. In the corner by the large window an oak table, a chair and another of basket weave. Twisted electric fire in the wall and a shilling meter by the door. A basin and a bath across the hall where on a chair you can see down on the tracks and station.
Every morning a rap on the door by an Indian woman. Breakfast. Reach out and on with the electric fire. Into the clothes. Down these dark stairs. Come in where they all smile and say hello and others good morning. Cozy trimming and pots of dried flowers. Always been partial to them. I know these people are from the Commonwealth. That woman says her son has a new job. Yes, you know they decided to move him up. Madam, that's just great.
Every morning it's like this. Porridge with lashings of milk and sugar. Then the bacon and eggs. Bring them on. OI tell you. And the Indian woman bringing in the pots of tea. And every morning I go back up the stairs and look out the window while they go by in the street with little umbrellas. And that woman over there who delights in it. I know she does. Standing naked and unabashed by her window with a certain hauteur looking back at me from between the towel drying her face. Don't think I don't see you, sister. You've got a good husky body. But if I saw you in the street dressed I think perhaps you would be different with your white lace coming out at various places from your suit.
Come down the stairs and look for my name on any of the letters. Up the street and stop to look in the pit of a bombed out building where a cat prowls. Buy a paper from the woman in the newsagents. Go back and sit with legs up
on
the window ledge. O I think there's going to be a sign. Big one. And it's going to say Dangerfield Lives.
On late Monday there was the guilty letter to Mary, O me ould tired, tried and true love, come to London and bring fifteen pounds and I'll meet you at the station and take you back to my little womb.
Wednesday night Having come up frightened of the dark on the stairs. A telegram on the bed.
ARRIVING HUSTON FRIDAY FIVE P.M. LOVE MARY
Thursday. Dangerfield up the road cutting a fine figure and putting his hand in the animal mouth and giving a tug on the tongue. In the steamy air MacDoon twisting a wire to make a kangaroo tail. This man Parnell holding an end of it with pliers. MacDoon reaches and pulls a yellow envelope from behind a mirror. Hands it to Dangerfield.
"For you Danger, arrived this afternoon."
Sitting, Dangerfield opens the envelope with nervous fingers. There was silence. All waiting. A frown and smacking of lips.
"Mac, would you ever pour me a cup of tea with a twist of lemon?"
"Bad news, Danger?"
"Remains to be seen. My father's dead."
"Sorry to hear that"
MacDoon hopping to the pot, pouring the tea. He swept out a narrow of lemon into the cup with his gouging chisel. To the bottom of the iodine tinted tea. Sebastian leaning back in the chair. Parnell turning the wire with the pliers. MacDoon going up in the air at the other end. Dark outside. Watching the blue flame eating up the gas and reddening the tiny asbestos nobs. Perhaps no time to face the future. They say there is good in everyone. If you just give them a chance. And a good boot in the arse.
"O.K. out out out Everybody. Quick. To the Bear Pit Mac. Whiskey, whiskey."
MacDoon drops a shoe he was fitting into the foot of the kangaroo. Parnell adjusting his glasses with a certain academic flourish, clearing his throat several times. And a whimper from the little babe in the box.
"Mac will you let me some day take your son away with me for a little trip I intend to make to the Isle of Man for a rest. I'm considering having a small chapel built on the top of Snaeffell. And perhaps you'll say a little mass for me there."
"Certainly, Danger"
"Parnell, would you look up a reputable tailor in the Row for me?"
"Sure, Danger."
"Something like a prewar Humber with a luggage carrier might suit me. Would I see one of those in Mayfair, Mac? Would I?"
"For certain."
"Good. Yes. Yes. That's very good. See a lot of things. Brass name plates. They're in there. In there behind that brass. And I think I will go to live in Old Queen Street"
"Danger, do I smell richness coming into your life?"
"You might put it that way, Mac. Yes. I think you could put it that way. Would you ever say now that this room had the universal twitch. Could we say that?"
"You could say that Danger."
"I've known Mondays come on a Friday. Thursdays on Tuesdays. But Sunday is a day I can never accept. Can I put it this way? I think we all need a drink."
"Danger, Parnell and meself have been driven to agree. And now if you will all kneel down I'll give you me black blessing and sprinkle the holy juice over your young innocent heads, a fine bunch of pagans you are anyway."
"Mac, you'd say I was conceived in idolatry. Parnell here by mistake and you yourself not even at all."
"Aye."
There was a certain amount of giggling. Dangerfield squeezing into the kangaroo. Parnell attaching the wire tail. Danger was lifted to the street A strange crew. The kangaroo head rolling the little blobs of eyes around in the cellophane sockets. Red bearded MacDoon supporting himself with a shepherd's staff. Parnell beating an empty tin with a spoon. Procession of saints and beasts. Fourteen wild stations of the cross. Pagans.
The bar was awash. Uncontrolled pints. It was said in the pit that there had never been a night like it. Dublin brought to London. Some say the Romans were Kerry men in disguise. Talk about resting and seeing everything a little more clearly and arranging affairs. Conclusions were reached. Better with than without. And if without better here than there. Thirst.
Dangerfield sitting with the kangaroo head off looking a sight with the pregnant belly Mac had put to the animal and the little baby hanging its confused head out of the pouch. There was talk about MacDoon getting inside the little one and Dangerfield carrying him in the pouch so as to make it cheaper traveling to Soho. Tonight it was decided they must see the Soho.
People out of the pub to watch them walk down the street Parnell beating out the death rhythm. MacDoon dancing the Bali dance to lead the way for this kangaroo.
Moving slowly along the center of the streets. Windows opening to watch this strange spectacle. MacDoon cuffing the kangaroo with his long staff. Parnell out front walking backwards up the Kensington Church Street where a girl threw a flower from a top window. To Notting Hill where they tried to close the gate and Parnell stopped it with his foot Bayswater road. O this was wild. Dance of the idiot trinity. A bobby said 'ere 'ere now, a little quiet and they said by appointment to His Majesty the King and this giant bobby stopped the traffic so they might safely pass. MacDoon doing the leprechaun tumble. A laugh for tired England. And out with a hat which was filling with pennies. At the Marble Arch, groaning under the money and pouring it into the kangaroo's pouch so that they were only fit to be dragged on so laden down with gold and success. Maddest street circus the world has ever seen.
At the Arch they boarded a bus. A woman, touched with a long furry lapping ear, turned and saw this animal sitting behind her and screamed and all the heads on the top of the bus looking at this beast At the Tottenham Court Road with the pouch dripping pennies they had to drag the beast out with the help of the conductor. MacDoon said there was nothing like it since the night they let all the cattle out of the markets before dawn and Dublin was aswarm with the moos of bullocks and the city came to a standstill and some have said that Dublin has never been the same since.
They walked around the Soho Square and then in the Greek Street they went into a public house.
The kangaroo was talking at the bar. It raised its voice in song.
Tell me Britons
How do you know
You like it
In the Soho ho.
No joy no juice
You pigs no use
I want to know
How you like it
In the Soho ho.
There were some grunts and growls and MacDoon said now Danger these people here are good people enjoying their pints.
Grunt and growl
Spit and scowl
You poor pigs
Are just foul.
They were up. Fourteen in all moving toward the kangaroo which was singing come all ye faithful. The black brute Parnell was at them. It was on.
Parnell picking up the front man and holding him an instant above his head flung him against the advancing crowd. MacDoon rotating his staff over his head and they said get that little bastard of a helicopter and Mac neatly broke the man's nose. The kangaroo reached behind the bar and was draining a bottle of gin when a chair was lowered on his head from behind. The kangaroo fell spread-eagled to the floor. Parnell attacked from all sides with MacDoon pulling them off with the hook of the staff and beating them to the floor. The building trembling. Eight left of the fourteen, six unconscious under the trampling feet. MacDoon went down and they were kicking him and he was catching them by the ankles with the hook and tripping them to the ground. They were driving Parnell out the door and they were yelling these damn Oxford intellectuals think they can tell us we're pigs. They had Parnell out and drew the latches. They were dragging the unconscious figure of MacDoon to fling him on the street, saying we fixed that big fella, he'll not try that again. Outside a great war whoop. They turned to the door. Another war whoop and a voice yelling I'm coming through. The brown vomit-tinted door parted with a squeal of hinges and splintering wood. The door came asunder into the room. Parnell, face covered in blood, clothes in tatters, launched his ferocious counter attack and three of the remaining eight fled up the stairs crying the man is insane, call the bobbies. They were holding him off with chairs. A crowd gathering on the street. The sound of the police. A half-revived MacDoon and Parnell dragging the stricken kangaroo out the door stumbling into the street. Flinging the beast into a taxi and yelling into the terrified man's ear, away you Cockney bastard like the hounds of hell before we deliver the wrath of the Celts on your English skull.
The kangaroo groaning that it must have a drink or die. That life was not worth living without a lash of something. The taxi man was saying he would get the police if they didn't stop fighting in the back and that they better get to the hospital because they were covered in blood.
They came to a stop and hobbled into the white smells of this hospital Crippled trinity. Down the warm halls. The nurses coming out of closets everywhere to see the spectacle of the limping kangaroo.
In the hot head he could see out of the pinhole eyes the buxom nurses and the kind nun who got the Chinese doctor. And this nun said whatever is it? Did you go to a pub with it? We did. We've never had patients like you before and you are, you know, rather beat up, but the doctor will do an especially good job on his face, a serious wound. Parnell is a fierce man. O a brute man and Mac here, by God, could lay waste a Cockney hoard in his prime were it not for the fabulous thirst of your young English maidens and even others for a sup of his Irish juice.
The hospital called another taxi and together with the Chinese doctor, compassionate nun and thirteen nurses called from their beds they stood watching the tragic trinity troop out the gate. But the kangaroo, touched with a slight madness what with being poisoned by his own wind accumulating in the animal head and other things like this shower of lovely silver dollars, shot out the door and came in the other until they were racing around the taxi in one door and out the next. The nurses' quarters alive with popping heads until these three weary wastrels set upon each other choking and collapsed and were taken away. The hospital people waving goodbye.
Dangerfield turned up the gas flame and rubbed his hands at three o'clock on this gray Friday afternoon. He took a bottle of gin from the pouch of the crumpled kangaroo. From the bed the stricken voice of MacDoon.
"What in God's pukka name have you got there, Danger?"
"E. Just e. Holy water. A little fast blessing for all of us. Parnell, wake up. Up I say. MacDoon for God's sake see if he's dead in there. Don't want to smell up the room with corpses."
Parnell wreathed in bandages stirs, looks out from under the covers and goes in again.
"Danger, come over here with that."
"O I had this neatly tucked away in the bedlam. Looting is part of the battle. You think now MacDoon that this is going to be a time of richness. Do you think that now. Or that from over there the motor birds are bringing me an egg. Big. Big. Nothing like that land of the big big rich."
"Danger, Listen to me. I want you to know your friends will stand by you during delivery of egg. Never let it be said I deserted in an hour of wealth."
"Mac, I think a bit of the Algeria for a breather. We destroyed the city of London in one mighty blow."
"I'd say however, there was a bit of the counter attack somewhere."
"There was that. Mac, one of these days I'm going to tell you the story of how I joined the Legion of Mary. The things of the inner struggle. Intestinal and other things. But got to spruce up. First little bit of the Parnell's peanut butter. Nothing like the nut butter. O I've had the speedy trip to the broker with the ungreased pram. I've had the pride. You wouldn't believe it Mac but at one time I wouldn't stoop to the pram greased or ungreased. Or live on woman's earnings. But through all this, the battering, shell shock, detours and even falling into the minor traps of Egbert Skully, I've come through with part of the inner man still there. Onward you crazy Christian soldiers. Just call me Major Dangerfield"
"Major bring me the bottle"
"And Mac only once. Once, mind you, have I ever had the ignominy. I'll take all the rest but not the igno."
"Danger, let nothing more be said to spoil or foul the beauty you have released into this room. Give us the bottle"
"Parnell. Up out of the covers. I've a request to make. Would you ever now have a clean shirt for my urgent appointment at five which demands I present myself without stains of blood or battle."
"A shirt in my closet there I wore in the nick"
"The very thing."
"Behind the door. The only dignified thing I possess these days."
"O handsome shirt. The cut is everything. Some day, Parnell, we must hear more of this nick. B. Berry maintains three years in the Borstal good as four at Harrow. What have these British prisons?"
"Ten years lose some of the advantages."
"Inclined to believe that a bit long even for the Ph. D. O I say, rather fine shirt this. How do I look? I think it suits me. Now a little something for under the pits. Must have something for the pits. Must be no odor of body."
"Danger go out in the hall and slip in the second door on the left. Landlady's bedroom. Might be a little something for the pits."
Dangerfield returns.
"Very nice. I've always been partial to the fragrance as opposed to the unfragrant."
MacDoon propped and prostrate on the bed.
"Danger do I see a woman of blackberry stained lips, raven hair and haughty teeth? Do I?"
"Gentlemen, in due time. In due time there will be an announcement"
He stepped out in the cold twilight along this road with the triangular park. Nice room Parnell has in this pleasant street Now any one of these houses would do for me. Mary wash the windows and sweep out the path and make me ould porridge of a morning. Import sausages from the Pembroke Road in the Dub. She's stuck by me. Trusted me. And if there's one thing it's faith. I'd even suffer the igno for faith. And whatever else, I've got to see her right. I know they think me hard because I've not shed the tears over the death. But I'm not There's just nothing I can do. Well Marion. Now you know but you were too fast. That's the trouble with people, too fast. Don't wait, see you down and think you're going to stay there, might even use the heel on you. But what ho, as I've said, no bitterness in me. Nothing like that in my heart any more. Marion will find out soon enough. Little note to the solicitor and perhaps we will see a little investment here and there. Small and conservative at first
Down into the Underground. Standing on the platform with a few afternoon people going somewhere. The glassy, smooth train parks neatly. Stepping in and gliding away. I am told whatever else I do in this fantastic Underground, to stay off the Circle Line.
He walked along the windy tunnels. Up and out into this vast station. Throngs. Where is she? I'm late. Track seven. Watch for an Irish face. I couldn't have forgotten what she looks like. Spot me anywhere because I look Victorian from behind. Must greet her with gladness.
In a black coat she came shyly down the platform bent with a large leather bag, biting her lips.
"Hello, Mary."
"Hello, I thought you might not come."
"Not a bit By God you've lost weight Have you been ill?"
"I'm all right I wasn't well for a while."
"Give me the bag. Good Christ what have you got in it? Rocks ?"
"I brought some things to cook with and some plates. And part of a sewing machine. I hope you don't mind?"
"Excellent. Not a bit. We'll check it. I think those are the things we want these days. Now we go over here and take care of this."
Dangerfield led her out of the station. And turned her around to see the building. Take a tour by Danger. See up there and the big pillars. That's architecture.
"Now what do you think of that Mary? What about that?"
"I don't know what to say. I suppose it's nice."
"It's the size Mary, the size. And who paid for it. But we'll go along here now and find a nice restaurant"
"I brought twenty pounds."
"Wow."
Into the warm room with tables along the wall. Danger-field told the boy to bring a little something from the château and a chicken and cheroot too.
"Isn't this expensive, Sebastian?"
"He, eeeeee."
"Why do you laugh?"
"Because the word expensive is no longer in my vocabulary. No longer in use. I think I can safely say that"
"Why?"
"Later on, Mary. Later on for that"
"Well tell me what you've been doing. You look thin. And nothing of mine fits me and I've had to alter this old black dress. I got so worried when I was ill because you didn't write."
"Give me your hand, Mary."
"This is a nice place. I'm glad to be shut of Dublin."
"Lot say that."
"When I got ill and told him I wasn't going to jump for him anymore he was soon up out of his bed."
"What did he say about London?"
"Said he'd have the Guarda. But I told him to go to the devil and if he put another finger to me that I'd have the Guarda."
"What did he say?"
"He'd get the priest to me. I was fed up. I told him his own soul was covered with lies. And that the boys were well away not to have to listen to him again. He's had his own way for long enough. Told me he was an old man and didn't have long to go and that I shouldn't leave him alone. And I said you want me to stay now. Me who has been out with men. Then he said his heart was ticking its last and to call the priest for him before I left the house."
"O I wouldn't be too hard now. Poor man. Perhaps the only little comfort he's after is to poison the Pope.'"
"I'm glad he's had to suffer. And to be shut of it all. The Tolka was the only thing I enjoyed anymore. To walk across Phoenix Park to Chapleizod and Lucan Road. And go into Sarsfield. It's so lovely along there by the river in the trees. I used to think of you there. Don't laugh, I really did."
The smell of wine and sweet chicken meat. The waiter bringing sprouts and baked potatoes. Whee. Were it not for my tram rides through sleep when I got off at the stops called despair and had to get up out of the cozy bed to make myself a cup of milk and honey and sat on the wobbly kitchen chair. O that thing called food. Or as Malarkey used to say, Jesus, Sebastian if I ever had money I'd have all my friends to a place of mine in the country where we would sit to a table an Irish mile long with our fists greasy with the lashings of beef and turkey and our women coming from the fire groaning under the weight of the wild berries and plover plucked from the sky, and beat bulls' heads for sport and pick up a whole field and flip it over on its back for planting and Jesus, cover it with a foot thick of chicken shit and rotting kelp and then lash it with ten tons of peaches black decay. O have you ever heard of oats. Or spuds fit to put heathen desires in ye for the rest of your life. Mary leave some chicken for me.
Over there sit three secretaries. And two bald men. I think I like this. Healthier than the pub. OI may give up the pub. And just keep the cheroot, slippers and sewing machine.
"Mary, will you excuse me while I make a phone call?"
"Yes."
Now Landlady, me dear Mrs. Ritzincheck, be big hearted. Put down foul caution and reserve that these limes tell you is playing a sunny wicket
"Hello, Mrs. Ritzincheck?"
"Yes."
"Mrs. Ritzincheck this is Mr. Dangerfield. I'm in a rather difficult position. My fiancee has just arrived in London. Of course I know this is rather an abrupt and perhaps unusual request but I know you will understand and I wonder would you mind awfully if I were to share my room with her. She's a very fine girl."
"Well, Mr. Dangerfield, it's against the rules of the house. I'll have every gentleman requesting to have a lady in his room overnight. I'm sorry."
"Now, now. I know it's asking a bit much but I thought I'd be honest with you since you've been so straightforward with me. But I assure you everything will be conducted with the utmost decorum and perhaps you could explain. My wife, you know. Well, it's only a few weeks till the day. We do so want to be together. And we've been so cut off and she's come all the way from Ireland. And Mrs. Ritzincheck I'd never dare make such a request if I didn't feel you were a woman of sensibility and experience."
"Well, Mr. Dangerfield you certainly have a way of putting it and if there's no disturbance and mind you, if it's a different woman every night there will be no more of it."
"You don't know how grateful I am to you Mrs. Ritzin-check. You have no idea."
"I have an idea all right."
"That's excellent. Thanks again. We'll be arriving in a short while."
Dangerfield austerely at the pay booth saying indeed I will when they said I hope you will come again sir. And he 3o8 pivoted exquisitely to usher Mary out before him. Taxi sweeping up. Mary holding his hand as they went for the bag, looking out the window in the crowded streets. Bury me on neutral soil. Perhaps in Austria with simplicity and subdued colors and faces. With my children around me. I want my last moments to have some dignity. Mary sit right up close. Don't be scared of me because I'm all right.
Mrs. Ritzincheck smiled at the door and wiped her hands in her apron. I always say be straightforward when you can.
Up the stairs and finally in this little room. Mary sat down on the bed. Sebastian laid the bag on the floor.
"Well Mary here we are."
"I like it. It's nice to see from such a height. I like London, everything is so exciting. So many interesting looking people."
"There's that"
"And so many strange ones you would never see in Dublin. All the blacks and those Egyptian fellows. Some of them are terrible good looking and they've got such white teeth."
"Mary show me this sewing machine"
"Kiss me."
"The machine, Mary. The machine."
"Kiss me."
Mary upon him with arms and legs. Back to the bed. Down. Please. You know how I feel about direct assault What a tongue. All I wanted to do was take a look at the machine.
Outside it's night And they're all pulling the curtains across. And going to sit in their chairs. Mary at least let me up to take a quick plunge in the bath.
"I want to have it together, Sebastian."
"But we mustn't set a carnal example for the other guests."
In the tub she said the water was terrible and no lather and it looked all gray and dirty and you'd think she didn't have a wash in a tinker's age. She smiled up out of the tub. Pulling him down for another kiss. Dangerfield's feet slipping on the soapy floor. Watch it for Christ's sake, I'm falling. A roar of water over the side. Mrs. Ritzincheck will think we're up here at it hammer and tongs, hanging from the chandeliers and divers bathroom fittings. And that causes jealousy. Everybody will be wanting it.
"You look a sight, Sebastian"
"We've got to go easy, Mary.
0
"Take off your clothes, I want to see what you look like"
"Mary, please."
"You've got no chest."
"Wait a minute. Just look at this. There. See?"
"It's so funny."
"I beg your pardon."
"But you're thin."
"Now Mary look from behind. Give you some idea of the breadth of me shoulders. I'm deceptive."
"I'll admit you're broad."
"But you've got a chest there, Mary."
"But you mustn't look, I know they're too big."
"Not a bit."
"But they're smaller than they were."
Dangerfield stepping into the tub. Must control myself. Keep it down. Mary will stop at nothing. Somebody come break down the door and catch us at it in the tub.
"Sebastian, you're queer looking when I see you like this in the light."
"Don't grab, I'U get drowned."
"Isn't it an awful death?"
"O I don't know, Mary. Out there on the waves with the ships at sea."
"Rub me with the soap."
"Melons, Mary."
"Don't say that. Take me to the sea."
"We'll go and live by the sea."
"And I'll go naked on the beach."
"What ho, Mary. We'll see that"
"I read about these French painters. Awful men, they were drawing without clothes and it must be nice to be able to pose for them"