The Ginger Man

by J. P. Donleavy

  Marion clasping the child to her breast. Sobbing, she lay her long English body and child across the bed. The room echoing the hesitations of her wailing voice. Sebastian walked white faced from the room, slamming the broken door, cutting off the sound of suffering from a guilty heart

  Dangerfield took a late morning bus to Dublin. Sat up the top side in front, clicking the teeth. Out there the mud flats and that windy golf course. North Bull Island shimmering in the sun. Cost money to leave Marion. Vulgar blood in her somewhere, may be from the mother. Mother's father kept a shop. Bad blood leaks out. I know it leaks out. And I ought tc get out. One way on the boat. She doesn't have the nerve for divorce. I know her too well for that Never gave me a lousy chance to explain the account Let her rot out there, I don't care. Got to face the facts of this life. The facts, the facts. Could square things with her. She's good with the cheese dishes. Few days without food will weaken her. Maybe I'll come back with a tin of peaches and cream. She's always airing the house. Opening up the windows at every little fart Tells me she never farts. At least mine come out with a bang.

  Fairview Park looks like a wet moldy blanket. Feel a little better. O'Keefe broke a toilet bowl in that house. Fell into it when he was trying to sneak a look behind a woman's medicine chest. Long suffering O'Keefe. bent over tomes in the National Library studying Irish and dreaming of seduction.

  Amiens Street Station, Dangerfield stepping down from the bus, crossing and using the ostrich step up the Talbot Street My God, I think I see prostitutes with squinting eyes and toothless mouths. Don't relish a trip up an alley with one without wearing impenetrable armour and there is no armour at all in Dublin. I asked one how much it was and she said I had an evil mind. Invited her for a drink and she said the American sailors were rough and beat her up in the backs of taxicabs and told her to take a bath. She said she liked chewing gum. And when she had a few drinks she got frightfully crude. I was shocked. Asked me how big it was. I almost slapped her face. With it Provocation I calls it And told her to confess. Dublin has more than a hundred churches. I bought a map and counted them. Must be a nice thing to have faith. But I think a pot of Gold Label run from the barrel in the house of the aspidistras. Settle the nerves. No time to be nervous now. With youth on my side. I'm still a young man in the late twenties, although the Lord knows I've been through some trying times. A lot of people tell you, caution you. Now young man, don't get married without money, without a good job, without a degree. E. E. E. They are right

  Into the pub with stuffed foxes behind the potted plants. And the snug stained brown. Reach over and press this buzzer for action,

  A young man's raw face flicked around the door,

  "Good morning, Mr, Dangerfield,"

  "A fine spring morning, a double and some Woodbines"

  "Certainly, sir. Early today?"

  "Little business to attend to,"

  "It's always business isn't it,"

  "Oaye,"

  Some fine cliches there. Should be encouraged. Too many damn people trying to be different. Coining phrases when a good platitude would do and save anxiety. If Marion wants to make the barbarous accusation that I took the milk money, it's just as well I took it,

  A tray comes in the discreet door,

  "On your bill, Mr, Dangerfield?"

  "If you will, please,"

  "Grand to be having some decent weather and I think you're looking very well,"

  "Thank you. Yes, feel fine,"

  I think moments like sitting here should be preserved, I'd like friends to visit me at my house and maybe have a cocktail cabinet, but nothing vulgar. And Marion could make nice little bits. Olives, And kids playing on the lawn, Wouldn't mind a room a bit on the lines of this. Fox on the mantelpiece and funereal fittings. Outside, the world, I think is driven. And I'm right out in front. To keep friends, photographs and letters. Me too. And women stealing alimony for young lovers. Wrinkled buttocks astride rose wood chairs, weeping signing each check. Become a lover of women over fifty. They're the ones that's looking for it. Good for O'Keefe. But he might balk, A knowledgeable man but a botcher. And now get that check, I want to see dollars. Thousands of them. Want them all over me to pave the streets of me choosey little soul.

  "Bye, bye,"

  "Bye now, Mr, Dangerfield, Good luck."

  Across the Butt Bridge. Covered with torn newspapers and hulking toothless old men watching out the last years. They're bored. I know you've been in apprenticeships and that there was a moment when you were briefly respected for an opinion. Be in the sight of God soon. He'll be shocked. But there's happiness up there, gentlemen. All white and gold. Acetylene lighted sky. And when you go, go third class. You damn bastards.

  And walking along Merrion Square. Rich up this way. Wriggle the fingers a bit. American flag hanging out there. That's my flag. Means money, cars and cigars. And I won't hear a word said against it.

  Spinning up the steps. Big black door. With aplomb, approaching the receptionist's desk. Unfallow Irishwomen of middle age and misery. Belaboring poor micks headed for that land across the seas. Giving them the first taste of being pushed around. And ingratiating to the middle western college boy who bounces by.

  "Could you tell me if the checks have arrived?"

  "You're Mr. Dangerfield, aren't you?"

  "I am."

  "Yes the checks have arrived. I think yours is here somewhere. However, isn't there some arrangement with your wife? I don't think I can give it to you without her consent"

  Dangerfield warming to irritated erection.

  "I say, if you don't mind I will take that check immediately."

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Dangerfield but I have had instructions not to give it to you without the permission of your wife."

  "I say, I will take that check immediately."

  Dangerfield's mouth a guillotine. This woman a little upset. Insolent bitch.

  "I'm very sorry but I will have to ask Mr. Morgue."

  "You will ask no one."

  "I'm terribly sorry, but I will have to ask Mr. Morgue."

  "What?"

  "You must remember that I am in charge of handling these checks"

  Dangerfield's fist swished through the air, landing with a bang on the desk. Receptionist jumped. And her jaw came down with a touch of obedience.

  "You'll ask no one and unless that check is given me this instant I'll have you charged with theft Do you understand me? Am I clear? I will not have an Irish serf interfering in my affairs. This irregularity will be reported to the proper authorities. I will take that check and no more nonsense"

  Receptionist with mouth open. Trickle of spittle twisted on her jaw. An instant's hesitation and fear forced a nervous hand to deliver the white envelope. Dangerfield burning her with red eyes. A door opening in the hall. Several bog men, watching from the staircase, slipped hurriedly back to seats, caps over folded hands. A final announcement from Danger-field.

  "Now, God damn it, when I come in here again I want that check handed to me instantly."

  From the door,a middle western accent

  "Say buddy, what's going on here?"

  "Twiddle twat"

  "What?"

  Dangerfield suddenly convulsed with laughter. Spinning on his heel, he pushed open this Georgian door and hopped down the steps. The rich green of the park across the street And through the tops of the trees, red brick buildings on the other side. Look at these great slabs of granite to walk on. How very nice and solid. Celtic lout. I'm all for Christianity but insolence must be put down. With violence if necessary. People in their place, neater that way. Eke. Visit my broker later and buy a French Horn and play it up the Balscaddoon road. About four a.m. And I think I'll step into this fine house here with ye oldish windows.

  This public house is dark and comforting with a feeling of scholarship. With the back gate of Trinity College just outside. Makes me feel I'm close to learning and to you students who don't take the odd malt Maybe I put too much faith in atmosphere.
>
  Put the money away safely. A bright world ahead. Of old streets and houses, screams of the newly born and grinning happy faces escorting the lately dead. American cars speeding down Nassau Street and tweedy bodies of ex-Indian Army officers stuttering into the well-mannered gloom of the Kildare Street Club for a morning whiskey. The whole world's here. Women from Foxrock with less thick ankles and trim buttocks shod closely and cleanly with the badge of prosperity, strutting because they owned the world and on their way to coffee and an exhibition of paintings. I can't get enough. More. See Marion like that. Going to make money. Me. A sun out. With Jesus for birth control. This great iron fence around Trinity serves a good purpose. World in resurrection. Yellow banners in the sky, all for me, Sebastian Bullion Dangerfield.

  And dear God

  Give me strength

  To put my shoulder

  To the wheel

  And push

  Like the rest.

  5

  Spring warmed into summer. In Stephen's Green, actors were sitting in three penny chairs getting a bit of tan. Here there are great rings of flowers and ducks sliding around the sky. And citizens riding the late trams to Dalkey for a swim. On this June morning, Dangerfield came in the front gate of Trinity and went up the dusty rickety stairs of No. 3 where he stood by the dripping rust-stained sink and banged on O'Keefe's door.

  A minute passed and then the sound of padding feet and latches being undone and the appearance of a bearded, dreary face and one empty eye.

  "If s you."

  The door was swung open and O'Keefe plodded back to his bedroom. A smell of stale sperm and rancid butter. Mouldering on the table, a loaf of bread, a corner bitten from it with marks of teeth. The fireplace filled with newspapers, old socks, spittle stains and products of self pollution.

  "Christ, Kenneth, don't you think you ought to have this place cleaned up?"

  "What for? Does it make you sick? Vomit in the fireplace."

  "Don't you have a skip?"

  "I've better things to spend my money for than having a footman. I'm leaving."

  "What?"

  "Leaving. Getting out. Do you want some ties? Bow ties."

  "Yes. Where are you going?"

  "France. Got a job."

  "Doing what?"

  "Teaching English in a Lycée. Besançon, where Paul Klee's mother was born."

  "You lucky bastard, you're telling the truth?"

  "I'm leaving in exactly an hour from now. If you watch me very, very carefully, you'll see me fill this sack with four packs of cigarettes, a pair of socks, two shirts, a bar of soap and a towel Then I put on my cap, spit on my shoes and give them a wipe with my sleeve. I'm out that door, drop my keys off at the front gate and I'm into Bewley's for a cup of coffee, alone I might add, unless you have money to pay for yourself. Then if you're still watching, I'll saunter down O'Connell Street past the Gresham and take a sharp right at the corner and you will see my slender form disappear into a green bus marked airport and finis. Do you see what I mean?"

  "I can only say I'm delighted, Kenneth"

  "See ? System. The well ordered life."

  Dangerfield waving a hand around the room.

  "Is this what you call ordered? Hate to see you in dis-order."

  O'Keefe tapping his skull.

  "Up here, Jack, up here."

  "What are you going to do with that jug on the dresser? Still has the price on it."

  "That? It's yours. Do you know what that is? I'll tell you. A year ago when I got into this hole I was full of big ideas. Things like rugs and easy chairs and maybe a few paintings on the wall, have some of these pukka public school boys up to tea to have a look at my objets d'art. I thought things would be like Harvard only I'd be able to crack into a few of the clubs as I was never able to do in Harvard. I felt it would be best to start the furnishing with a few bedroom items, so I bought that jug for one and four as you can plainly see, and that was that. Needless to say I never cracked or rubbed shoulders with these public school boys. They talk to me but think I'm a little coarse."

  "Pity."

  "Yeah, pity. I'll give you the jug to remember me when I'm gone from the ould sod, sacked in with some lovely French doll Jesus. if I had your accent I'd be set here. That's 36 the whole thing, accent I'm beat even before I get my nose in. Anyway it won't stop me in France"

  "I say, Kenneth, I don't want to be personal—"

  "Yeah, I know. Where did I get the money. That my friend is an affair of state which is top secret"

  "Pity"

  "Come on, let's go. Take the ties if you want them and the jug, anything that's left for that matter. This is the last I'll ever see of this dreary setup. Never even had a fire in my fireplace. I'm twenty-seven years old and I feel like sixty. I don't know, I think I'd die before I'd go through this again. Wasted time. No degree. I think I got to four Greek lectures and two in Latin in the last six months. This place is tough, not like Harvard. These boys work day and night"

  "How about these used razors?"

  "Take anything. I'll be as poor as a church mouse for the rest of me days."

  Sebastian gathered the bow ties in his fist and stuffed them in his pockets. Pilled a wash cloth with razor blades and several slivers of soap. On the table, a pile of penny notebooks.

  "What are these, Kenneth?"

  "Those are the fruits, rotten ones I might add, of my efforts to become a great writer."

  "You're not leaving them behind?"

  "Certainly. What do you want me to do?"

  "Never know."

  "I happen to know. One thing I'm sure of, I'm no writer. I'm nothing but a hungry, sexstarved son of a bitch."

  Dangerfield turning the pages of the notebook. Reading aloud.

  "In the ordinary Irish American family this would have been a very happy occasion of hypocritical and genuine gaiety, but the O'Lacey's were not the ordinary Irish American family and the atmosphere was almost sacrilegiously tense—"

  "Cut it out. If you want to read it, take it Don't remind me of that crap. I'm finished writing. Cooking is my trade"

  Two of them passing out of the bedroom with newspapers spread on the mattress springs. Imprint of the body. January in here and June outside. Sad rat, O'Keefe, the hunk of bread gnawed. And the scullery a blackened vestibule of grease. Under the gas ring he bacon rinds the color green and a broken cup half full of dripping; O'Keefe's first move, no doubt, to open up a highbrow restaurant. Lives punctuated with shrewd business deals, quick flashes of happiness ending in dismal abortion. Keeps one awake at night and poor as well.

  They tripped and bounced down the worn stairs. Walked across the cobbles. O'Keefe leading, hands plunged in pockets, lilting, a caterpillar walk. Followed austerely, nervously, by the twitching Dangerfield on his bird feet. Into No. 4 to urinate.

  "Pissing always gives me a chance to think. It's all the good this thing has ever done me. But I'm out. On the move again. Best feeling in the world. How does it feel to be loaded with wife and child, Dangerfield? It's a problem for you even to get out the door."

  "One manages, Kenneth. Be better days. I promise you that."

  "Be Grangegorman."

  "Did you know, Kenneth, that Trinity graduates get preferential treatment in the Gorman?"

  "Good, you'll be murdered. But you know, Dangerfield, I don't dislike you as you might think. I've got a soft spot somewhere. Come on, I'll buy you a cup of coffee even though it's bad to encourage tenderness."

  O'Keefe disappearing into the porter's lodge with his keys. Porter looking at him with a grin.

  "Leaving us, sir?"

  "Yup, for the sunny Continent, yours truly."

  "The very best of luck, always, Mr. O'Keefe. We'll all miss you."

  "So long."

  "Goodbye, Mr. O'Keefe."

  Prancing out to Dangerfield waiting under the great granite arch, and swinging around the front gate to West-moreland Street They entered the smoke and coffee scented air and sat in a cozy boot
h. O'Keefe rubbing his hands.

  "I can't wait to get to Paris. Maybe I'll make a rich contact on the plane. Rich Yankee girl coming to Europe for culture who wants to see the points of interest."

  "And perhaps your own, Kenneth."

  "Yeah, if she saw that I'd make sure she saw nothing else. Why is it that I can't have something like that happen to me? That guy who came around to my rooms who was over from Paris, a nice guy, told me once you cracked a clique in Paris you were set. Like the theatrical crowd that he knocked around with, a lot of beautiful women looking for guys like me who haven't got looks but brains and wit Only one drawback he says, they like to ride in taxis."

  Waitress comes over and takes their order. Two cups of coffee.

  "Do you want a cream cake, Dangerfield?"

  "Most cordial suggestion, Kenneth, if you're sure it's all right"

  "And waitress, I want mine black with two, two remember, full jugs of cream and heat the rolls a little."

  "Yes, sir."

  Waitress giggling,remembering a morning when this short madman with glasses came in and sat down with his big book. All the waitresses afraid to serve him because he was so gruff and had a funny look in his eyes. Sitting alone all morning turning page after page. And then at eleven he looked up, grabbed a fork and started banging it against the table screaming for service. And never took his cap off.

  "Well, Dangerfield, in less than an hour I'm off in search of me fortune. Jesus, I'm excited, like I was going to lose my cherry. Woke up this morning with an erection that almost touched the ceiling."

  "And they're twenty feet high, Kenneth"

  "With spiders crawling all over them. Jesus, a couple of weeks ago I was desperate. Jake Lowell came to see me, pukka Boston from Harvard but he's colored. Gets women like flies but having a slack period at the moment Said I ought to go queer. Said it was more intellectual and more down my alley. So he gave me my debut one night It was just like going to a dance at Harvard. I got shaky all over and my stomach in a panic. And we went to a pub where they hang out He gave me all the coy dope to let them know you're on the make. Said all the invitations that mean anything come when you're in the jacks."