"What's the matter, Kenneth? You're as white as a sheet."
O'Keefe staring at the ceiling with a half chewed chicken leg hanging in his fist.
"Didn't you hear that? Whatever that scrabbling in the ceiling is, it's alive."
"My dear Kenneth, you're welcome to search the premises. It moves all over the house. Even wails and has a rather disconcerting way of following one from room to room."
"Jesus, stop it That scares me. Why don't you look up there?"
"Rather not."
"That noise is real."
"Perhaps you'd like to look, Kenneth. Trap door in the hall. I'll give you an axe and flashlight."
"Wait till I digest my meal. I was just beginning to enjoy all this. I thought you were kidding."
O'Keefe at one end, carrying the ladder to the hall.
With axe cocked, O'Keefe advancing slowly towards the trap door. Dangerfield encouraging him on. O'Keefe pushing up the door, peering along the beam of light No noise. Not a sound. Bravery becoming general again.
"You look frightened to death. Dangerfield. Think you were the one up here. Probably just some loose papers blowing across the floor."
"Suit yourself, Kenneth. Just give me a whistle when it gets you around the neck. Go in."
O'Keefe disappeared. Dangerfield looking up into the descending dust. O'Keefe's footfalls going towards the drawing room. A wail. A scream from O'Keefe.
"Christ, hold the ladder, I'm coming down"
Trap door down with a slam.
"For God's sake, what is it, Kenneth ?"
"A cat With one eye. The other a great gaping hole. What a sight How the hell did it get up there ? "
"No idea. Must have been up there all the time. Might have belonged to a Mr. Gilhooley who lived here only he fell off the cliff out there one night and was washed up three months later on the Isle of Man. Would you say, Kenneth, that maybe this house has a history of death?"
"Where are you putting me to sleep ?"
"Cheer up, Kenneth. You look terrified. No need to let a little thing like a cat get you down. You can sleep wherever you like."
"This house gives me the creeps. Let's build a fire or something."
"Come into the drawing room and play a little tune on the piano for me."
They walked along the red tiled hall to the drawing room. Set on a tripod before the baywindows, a large brass telescope pointing out to sea. In the corner an ancient upright piano, its top covered with opened tins and rinds of cheese. Three fat armchairs distorted with lumps of stuffing and poking springs. Dangerfield fell back in one and O'Keefe bounded to the piano, struck a chord and began to sing.
In this sad room
In this dark gloom
We live like beasts.
The windows rattling on the rotten sills. O'Keefe's twisted notes. There you are, Kenneth, sitting on that stool, all the way from Cambridge, Massachusetts, freckled and fed on spaghetti. And me, from St. Louis, Missouri, because that night in the Antelope I took Marion to dinner and she paid. And a weekend after to a hotel. And I pulled down her green pajamas and she said she couldn't and I said you can. And other weekends till the war was over. Bye bye bombs and back to America where I can only say I was tragic and lonely, feeling Britain was made for me. All I got out of old man Wilton was a free taxi to our honeymoon. We arrived and I bought a cane to walk the dales of Yorkshire. Our room was over a stream at this late summertime. And the maid was mad and put flowers in the bed and that night Marion put them in her hair, which she let down over her blue night gown. O the pears. Cigarettes and gin. Abandoned bodies until Marion lost her false front teeth behind the dresser and then she wept, wrapped in a sheet, slumped in a chair. I told her not to worry for things like that happened on honeymoons and soon we would be off for Ireland where there was bacon and butter and long evenings by the fire while I studied law and maybe even a quick love make on a woolly rug on the floor.
This Boston voice squeaking out its song. The yellow light goes out the window on the stubs of windy grass and black rocks. And down the wet steps by gorse stumps and rusty heather to the high water mark and diving pool. Where the seaweeds rise and fall at night in Balscaddoon Bay.
3
The sun of Sunday morning up out of the sleepless sea from black Liverpool Sitting on the rocks over the water with a jug of coffee. Down there along the harbor pier, trippers in bright colors. Sails moving out to sea. Young couples climbing the Balscaddoon Road to the top of Kilrock to search out grass and lie between the furze, A cold green sea breaking whitely along the granite coast A day on which all things are born, like uncovered stars,
A wet salty wind. And tomorrow Marion comes back. And the two of us sit here wagging our American legs, Marion, stay away a little longer, please. Don't want the pincers on me just yet. Greasy dishes or baby's dirty bottom, I just want to watch them sailing. We need a nurse for baby to wheel her around some public park where I can't hear the squeals. Or maybe the two of you will get killed in a train wreck and your father foot the bill for burial, Well-bred people never fight over the price of death. And it's not cheap these days. Just look a bit glassy eyed for a month and take off for Paris, Some nice quiet hotel in Rue de Seine and float fresh fruit in a basin of cool water. Your long winter body lying naked on the slate and what would I be thinking if I touched your dead breast. Must get a half crown out of O'Keefe before he goes. I wonder what makes him so tight with money.
Late afternoon, the two of them walking down the hill to the bus stop. Fishermen in with their chugging boats unloading catches on the quay. Old women watching on thick chilblained ankles with heavy breasts wallowing,
"Kenneth, is this not a fine country?"
"Look at that woman,"
"I say, Kenneth, is this not a fine country?"
"Size of watermelons,"
"Kenneth, you poor bastard,"
"Do you know, Constance had a good figure. She must have loved me. How could she help it. But wouldn't let it stand in the way of marriage into some old Yankee family. Many are the days I sat on my cold arse on the steps of Widener just to watch her go by and follow her to where she was meeting some jerk with not an ounce of joy in him"
"Kenneth, you wretched man"
"Don't worry, I'll manage"
Sunday. Day set aside for emptiness and defeat Dublin city closed, a great gray trap. Only churches doing business, sacred with music, red candles and crucified Christs. And the afternoons, long lines of them waiting in the rain outside cinemas.
"I say, Kenneth, could you see your way dear to lending me half a crown repayable Monday at three thirty one o'clock? Check tomorrow and I could pay you at the Consulate"
"No."
"Two shillings?"
"No."
"One and six?"
"No. Nothing."
"A shilling is nothing."
"God damn it, Dangerfield, don't drag me down with you. For Christ's sake, my back's to the wall. Look at me. My fingers are like wet spaghetti. Get off my back. Don't doom us both."
"Relax, Kenneth. Don't take things so seriously."
"Seriously? This is a matter of life and death. What do you want me to do? Shout with joy?"
"You're upset."
"I'm not upset, I'm prudent. I want to eat tomorrow. Do you honestly think these checks are going to be there?"
"Quite."
"When you're sitting on your arse in the poor house screaming for drink I don't want to be next to you. Let one of us go down, that's enough. Not both. I want to eat tonight"
"I want some cigarettes"
"Look, here's my bus, I'll give you three pence and have it for me tomorrow"
"Kenneth, I want to tell you one thing before you go. You're a jewel among men"
"Look, don't bother me, if you don't want the three pence, I'll take it back. It'll pay half my fare"
"Kenneth, you lack love"
"Ass and money."
Bus pulling away. O'Keefe's head vanishing on the to
p deck and over a green sign, Guinness is good for you. How true.
Turning up the hill. Sunday on the desert of Edar. Great to know the old names. Do a bit of deep breathing. Lately been having the dreams of arrest. Come up from behind and grab me for committing a public nuisance. So long as it isn't indecency. Go over to this shop and have this good man fetch me up some cigarettes.
"A fine day, sir."
"Aye."
"Forgive the impertinence, sir, but are you the new gentleman living up on the rock?"
"O aye."
"I thought so, sir. And is it to your liking?"
"Splendid."
"That's fine, sir."
"Bye, bye now."
OI tell you. I tell you, names and numbers. Want to wear a sack over the face. Why don't you come up and watch me eat? Steam open my letters and see if I wear a truss. And I like to have my wife in bare feet. Good for a woman. They say it's great for the frigidity. I'm all for wiping that out Come watch me through any window.
Walking up to the Summit and down there is Gaskin's Leap, Fox Hole and Piper's Gut And the Casana Rock which is great for the sea birds. Bit of warmth in the air. How I like it. Lonely and Sunday. Faced with the cat. Should have locked O'Keefe up there with it. Take the ladder away. Give him a lesson in courage.
A girl approached.
"Mister, could I have a light 1"
"Certainly."
Dangerfield striking a match, holding it to her cigarette.
"Thank you very much."
"You're welcome on a lovely evening like this"
"Yes, it is lovely."
"Quite breathtaking."
"Yes, it is breathtaking."
"Are you out for a walk?"
"Yes, my girl friend and I are walking."
"Around the head?"
"Yes, we like it. We've come out from Dublin."
"What do you do for a living?"
"Well, I guess I work."
"At what?"
"My girl friend and I work in Jacob's."
"Biscuit factory?"
"We label tins."
"You like it?"
"It's all right. Gets boring."
"Walk along with me."
"All right. I'll get my girl friend."
Three of them walking along. Some trivia. Names, Alma and Thelma. And telling of the steamship Queen Victoria, wrecked off here at 3 o'clock on the morning of February 15th, 1853. Tragic disaster. And there is the quarry. See the stones. Built the harbor with this rock. Oh I tell you Alma and Thelma, Howth's the great place for the history. And I might say I'm adding to it meself. In my own little way. And they thought he was having them on and they were Catholics and giggled at this Protestant face.
Little dark now. Just let me take your hands now. O a dangerous place, this Howth at night. Young women want protection. And I'll hold your hand Alma and it's a nice hand in spite of the work. Thelma walking ahead. Mind Alma? Thelma away in the dark. Stop here now, like this. If s better, a little arm around you. Keep you. You like that? Well, you're a fast worker, and kissing a stranger, what will my girl friend think? Tell her I'm such a lonely gent and you couldn't resist a little innocent embrace. My house is here, come in? O no. A drink? I'm a member of the Pioneers. Have a glass of water then. I could come next Sunday. I'll be in Africa in the middle of the Congo. You have a nice bosom, Alma. You shouldn't make me do those things. Now Alma, come in for a little while and I'll show you my telescope. Don't be rude, besides I can't leave my friend. Honesty never gets me anywhere. Let me kiss you goodbye, Alma. Don't think I didn't like it but my girl friend would go back with a tale to my sister. Bye.
Alma running away through the evening. With her new-warmed heart touched by a stranger and I know you are thinking I would have seen your nice new underwear. Go in the drawer tomorrow for a week. And for a nice Protestant like him and there would have been chocolate and taxi rides and dances. Torturing chances, may not ever come again. Thelma, wasn't he a smasher.
Through my green haunted door. Into this house of sounds. Must be the sea. Might even come up through the floor. The cat. Just like O'Keefe with one eye. Says he can't catch a ball. And when they took him to the hospital and took it out they never told him he had only one left Kenneth, I love you all the same. And even more if you could have buried the axe in the cat, just behind the ears. I think the drawing room the safest tonight. Don't want to crowd the demons. And have a little nightcap. And read my nice fat American business magazine. No one will ever know what it's done for me in my sad moments. My bible of happiness every month. Open it up and I'm making sixty three thousand big bucks a year. Odd three thousand makes it more authentic And must drive into my office from Connecticut I insist upon that And repair evenings to my club. Difficult in New York with the Irish getting into everything. Imitating the Protestants. And I'll have a nice little family of two children. Use the best in contraception. Never should let the lust sneak up on one. Passion of the moment, a disaster over the years. Must not bungle more than twice. Could be fatal. Marion making that sucking noise with those front teeth. Sucking them in and out, surely it's not done. Just not done, that sort of thing. On and off her gums. Little circle of hair round her nipples, tickle the baba's mouth. O she'll live a long time. They'll put me to rest. But not before I've seen a bit of the corporation law and maybe later a bit of investment banking. Sebastian Bullion Dangerfield, chairman of Quids Inc., largest banking firm in the world. Then I would act Change the interest rates in the pawn shops. Lower them? No, make them higher. People shouldn't be pawning anyway. And send O'Keefe to the Sudan so he can run naked.
Dangerfield settled with feet up and back against the wall. Wind shaking the windows. A sudden long haunted wail from the ceiling.
"God's teeth."
Must keep a grip. Won't do to lose courage. And moaning under the floor. For the love of Jesus.
Fetching the axe, going into his room. The sea air, a great wet ghost, coming in the open window. Slamming it shut Tearing the covers back from the bed. Make sure of no rattlesnakes. Go flush the toilet now, take the edge off the fear. And straighten out the room, make the bed. And another sup of the good Cork Gin. Wallop a little freshness into this pillow. Good grief. The room filling with floating feathers. Well God damn it. For the love of Jesus, if that's the way you want it. Off with this damn mattress.
And Dangerfield lifting the axe above a wild head, driving it again and again through the pillow. Screams of money, money. Dragging the mattress out the door, along the hall to the kitchen. Up on the table with it And the axe is right here ready to cleave the first imposter who sets foot in this room. One more good swig of this. I'm sure it's good for the bowels and at least hurry me to bye byes. Left my soul sitting on a wall and walked away, watching me and grew cold because souls are like hearts, sort of red and warm, all like a heart
4
There was a tugging at his leg. Slowly opening eyes to see the irate face of Marion looming over him on this Monday morn of chaos.
"Good God, what's happened to the house? Why weren't you at the station to meet me? Look at you. Gin. This is horrid. I had to take a taxi out here, do you hear me? A taxi, fifteen shillings"
"Now, now, for Christ's sake have some patience and let me explain everything"
"I say, explain? Explain what? There's nothing to explain, it's all quite evident"
Marion holding aloft the gin.
"All right, I'm not blind, I see it"
"O dear, this is frightful. Why you honestly are a cad. If Mommy and Daddy could only see what I've got to come back to. What are you doing on the table ? "
"Shut up."
"I won't shut up and don't look at me like that. What are these feathers doing all over the place? Dishes broken on the floor. What were you doing?"
"Goat dance."
"How frightfully sordid it all is. Disgusting. Feathers in everything. You damn, damn drinker. Where did you get the money? Didn't meet me at the train. Why? Answer me."
>
"Shut up. Be quiet for the love of Jesus. The alarm didn't work."
"You're a liar. You were drinking, drinking, drinking. Look at the grease, the mess, the filth. And what's this?"
"A sea bird." .
"Who paid for all this? You had smelly O'Keefe out here. I know you did, I can smell him."
"Just leave me alone."
"Did you pay the milk?"
"Yes, now sweet Jesus shut up, my head."
"So you paid it, did you? Here it is. Here it is. Exactly where I left it and the money gone. Lies. You blighter. You nasty blighter."
"Call me a bugger, I can't stand the gentility on top of the yelling."
"O stop it, stop it. I don't intend to go on living like this, do you hear me? Your brazen lies, one after the other and I was trying to get Father to do something for us and I come back to this."
"Your father. Your father is a sack of excrement, genteel excrement, as tight as they come. What has he been doing, playing battleship in the tub?"
Marion lunged, her slap landing across his jaw. The child began to scream in the nursery. Sebastian up off the table. He drove his fist into Marion's face. She fell backward against the cupboard. Dishes crashing to the floor. In tattered underwear he stood at the nursery door. He kicked his foot through and tore off the lock to open it. Took the child's pillow from under its head and pressed it hard on the screaming mouth.
"I'll kill it, God damn it, I'll kill it, if it doesn't shut up."
Marion behind him, digging her nails into his back.
"You madman, leave the child alone, I'll get the police. I'll divorce you, you blackguard, coward, coward, coward."
The Ginger Man Page 2
