"I've touched myself with it"
"My back's killing me, Mary. Move over"
"There. Is that better?"
"Mary, my bottle of stout has leaked all over the floor"
"I've kissed it"
"My stout"
"It's not poison, sure?"
"Easy, Mary. That can hurt"
"You're sweet I like you. I'll go away with you if you want me to."
"Be nice for a little trip. Can you save any money? Money's important, Mary"
"I only have this thirty pounds. I'm not able to save any"
"With a little care. Eke is the operative word, Mary."
"Kiss me, please."
His hand desperately clutching a bottle of stout, he kissed Mary's feverish mouth and she opened his shirt and kissed his chest. Rolling around with the flesh of it My problems come with me wherever I go, even on detours. At least Mary and I would have enough to live on in London. A holiday for me. A job for her. Shake off a few of these Erse chains. So long as I keep out of Wales and jail. Because there I'd have cover. Eight million others. From this forlorn back cellar with Mary's bare backside pumping all over me. A time to make decisions. Set up a trip wire for Skully with a sack of you know what waiting to flop on his head. And secrecy, more silently and at night With experimental Mary. The vision of it is almost too much. A belly of joy. Anyway, you, Mary, take what you want from me so's you won't have to be asking for more. A sexual feast if need be, anything I can give you, because I'm getting out. Let me at them. With my new tongue. I'm going to be a reality.
"I love you, Sebastian."
"Your nice little eyes, Mary."
"I want to go away with you."
"Need money for both of us."
"I have four pounds saved for my suit too."
"Better bring it"
"When am I going to see you again?"
"Not for awhile, Mary."
"Why not?"
"I've got to make plans."
"But why can't I see you?"
"My wife."
"She doesn't have to know."
"Must take precautions, Mary."
"But I want to stay with you."
"All right but we must be careful and not rush things. I can go to London first and then you can come. I'll need a little money."
"I'll give you some."
"I might need quite a bit"
"I can give you half."
"Won't need that much but we'll see."
"I want to go with you."
"I'll write to you. Care of the post office."
"All right You will?"
Trust me, Mary. Don't want your father to know. We want to avoid anything unpleasant"
"He's a bastard."
"Mustn't say that, Mary. He's a man who's a little confused. A lot confused like him. But never be bitter. Just remember, it's hard but it's fair. The way things are meant to be. And I don't want you to make a mistake, Mary. I'm going to give you a week or two to think it over and if, at the end i85 of that time, you still want to come, send me ten pounds. It might be difficult at first"
"I don't care, so long as you let me stay with you,"
"Mary, just see if there's another bottle of stout before I go. A little sup to see me right on the long journey. See if there isn't one or two I could be carrying. Makes me think better."
"You're very fond of stout."
"Fond, Mary, is not the word. It's in me blood and a few other things as well. I want you to write to me care of The Geary Post Office. But don't use my name. I want you to use Percivil Buttermere. The spelling's important. P-e-r-c-i-v-i-l B-u-t-t-e-r-m-e-r-e."
"This is fun."
"This, Mary, is a matter of playing who lives the longest."
"You're sweet. And will we have a room together and you'll do all of it? Will we?"
"We will."
"I don't care if we die."
"Don't say that. Give God ideas. We must discourage that attitude. Just put these bottles in some paper."
"Kiss me once more."
"And don't forget Percivil Buttermere. That's very important. And I'll tell you when to send the money. And not a word to anyone."
"I won't tell anyone. I don't have anyone to tell anyway."
"Got to go."
"Once more with your tongue."
There was yelling going on in Mary's house and no screams from her. I got out of the street fast. Passed by the cattle market. And men growling at the bullocks. Which is which. They were prodding moaning beef through the gates and they'll shoot them in the head or put them on the ship. This night's over. Means waiting for another.
A fresh, new morning. A few souls in the streets. He went into a public house where old men sat, hands around pints of cider, spitting narrowly in the sawdust. Conversation ceased as Dangerfield came in. Each took a turn to look around.
There was a man
Who made a boat
To sail away
And it sank.
17
My eyes are glued together. Feet blistered. What have I done?
At least I'm not in jail. Lay a bit to get the latitude and longitude. I'll never do this again. Seems I had something to do with cattle. And with drink. And with several parties. And pints of cider. Claws the brain apart. I don't like this when I don't even know what month it is. Who's been meddling with the dresser and pulling out the drawers? And I've only got a sheet and coat over me. Marion? Just a mattress on her springs.
He sat up. Rubbed the flakes out of the eyes. The door bell ringing. Close the watertight compartments. Latch the hatches. Seal up, we're going down you mad bastards. The back door.
Sebastian crawled naked through the morning room into the kitchen. Turned the key and scrabbling back to the morning room, waiting under the table. Through the mirror on the opposite wall he saw the cap of the mailman pass by. I've got to see the postman. Get a blanket off Miss Frost's bed.
The mailman coining around the side. Dangerfield opening the door.
"I say there"
"I was just around the back. Thought you might not hear the bell. I have a registered letter for you, sir. There was no one in yesterday."
"Been out. I was just taking a bath."
"Will you sign here, please? Sorry to disturb you, sir. Be a bit warmer today."
"I sincerely hope so. Thank you very much. If ever you don't find me in, just put it under the door."
"And there's one more."
"Right."
"Thank you, sir."
"Good day"
Good mailman that Write to the Minister of Posts and Telegraphs and have that man moved up. Just get a knife and slit these.
Dear Mr. Dangerfield,
I have tried, without success, to get in touch with you at your present address. I am sending this letter by registered post in the hope that it will finally reach you. I have a great number of things to do and I find it hard to spare time trying to get in touch with you.
As you know you were fifty-four pounds in arrears with your rent and also that you have violated your lease which is not up until November next year, leaving fourteen months and one week and four days. I will gladly cut off one week four days if you would be considerate and send me all or part of the sum this week. My wife is not feeling too well since we have had so much trouble dealing with this property. And when we went to see the house I was sorry to find it in such a condition as to make my wife feel sick to her stomach.
I want you to know, Mr. Dangerfield, that I did not disturb anything nor look in anything that appeared to be your property. But I feel that you should know that there is a large frying pan and boiling pot missing out of the kitchen. There is only one cup left of the four supplied and two dishes, one badly cracked and needing repair, of the four supplied. The sofa is needing repair and the old, antique chair with the round knobs is gone completely from the drawing room. The Axminster rug is covered in soup stains and other stains which my wife, thinking of your wife, wishes me not to dis
close. I had the plumber in at considerable expense to myself to see the lavatory and he claims the lead pipe was hacked apart with an object which may have been an axe, and found other holes of a suspicious nature. 189
It is not for me to advise concerning your living methods, Mr. Dangerfield, but it causes my wife great grief that an American gentleman such as yourself should perhaps not keep up the standards we mutually know as Americans, but my wife and I are still proud of the citizenship we acquired in that land across the seas.
Before closing, I will mention that the ceiling in the bedroom has fallen down to a great extent which would be such a blow to my wife that I did not let her go upstairs in the house. The two mirrors are gone, one which was antique and hard to come by and a lace curtain from the front room and nine pieces of assorted cutlery. I would be glad to overlook such minor things as stains on the rug and of grease on the stove if I got satisfaction in the way of some payment this week. My wife has been making a number of visits to the doctor since she has been feeling so ill over the breaking of the lease and I have been put in the way of a great deal of expense. I know, Mr. Danger-field, that you will come through and I would appreciate it if you would let me know when you are in, as it is a long drive when I don't get satisfaction. I do not want to get in touch with my solicitor yet as I feel perhaps you have just been a little busy with your little baby and have happened to overlook the little debt now outstanding between us. My regards to your wife, who both my wife and I hope is enjoying her good health.
Respectfully yours,
Egbert SKULLY.
Dear Mr. Skully,
I have caught my neck in a mangle and will be indisposed for eternity.
Yours in death,
S.D.
Why can't we all be little friends. Friends of Jesus. Not a sound in the house, must be made of rubber.
He put on the gas, filling the teapot. Miss Frost was always good for a shilling in the meter. Now what's this from O'Keefe? Kenneth, what news? What fearful news have you? Don't tell me anything unpleasant, will you now, nothing unpleasant Just nice things. I think I'm going to go bye bye. All alone in this house. And afraid of getting that last and final chill, the one to be avoided at all costs. This world which has caused me so much distress and indignity. I'm heartbroken and frightened. But before I go down, pack up, dry up or waste away, a few people are going to know about it Kenneth, don't be unkind.
Dear Phony,
No money. As I expected. Right. I know your affairs are in a mess. I can't stick it here any longer—as you say, funt Now I would like to make this arrangement with you. Don't send any money here to me because I am coining back to the ould sod, arriving next Monday. Three weeks ago I wrote to the Irish Times to send a paper. And I got a job. Ever hear of Lady Eclair, Roundwood, Co. Wicklow? Well evidently Lady Eclair wants to do the thing properly and wants a French Chef. You can gather the rest For all practical purposes, I am now a frog.
I feel that there may be opportunities in the kitchens of Lady Eclair for romance with the scullery maids who will be under my lascivious thumb. Now I don't know for sure whether I have this job but Lady Eclair says she will pay my fare to Ireland and this is where you play the lead. I want you to arrange to have seven (7) pounds waiting for me so that I won't starve in that agricultural country.
I find that hunger puts one at a disadvantage when dealing with people who eat three times a day. I'm depending on you.
I have abandoned homosexuality for it has only succeeded in complicating my life further. I have been satisfying myself by hand as usual but find it very boring. However, I had written what I called "A Beginners Guide to Masturbation" in Greek to add sophistication, but gave it up in despair. That was when I decided to try to get back to the ould sod. If I must be celibate I may as well live where celibacy is a virtue. I speak French enough to be phony. I've told Lady Eclair I was educated in England and have travelled extensively in America.
Have that seven quid. Or else I'll be kaput and at the conversational mercy of Lady Eclair whom I want to impress with my command of the English language and also any items of interest I should spot around the house. I also want to appear temperamental as this will give me a certain amount of leeway and perhaps I can meet some of her rich guests after they have feasted on the food from my well run kitchen. If things go wrong I can always suggest that Lady Eclair sail a nate in a sauce boat. Don't let me down.
God bless you,
Kenneth O'KEEFE
Acting Duke of Serutan.
Kenneth, we all want wampum. And as you must know, if only I had some I would be only too willing to share. But the only thing I have here is a pile of business magazines which I am going to burn for a fire.
Day is covered in clouds, high gray sea and white horses. Be wild and fretful all along the coast. A day like this when I used to watch the brave men out on the grave water. And seals popping up. If a yellow light bobs on the end of land that means a fearful thing. Out there, death and disaster.
Sebastian went looking for aspirin. The house looks unusually empty. The closet. Marion's clothes are gone. Just my broken rubbers on the floor. The nursery. Cleaned out. Bare. Take that white cold hand off my heart
Feverishly around the house again. Pulling out all the drawers, tearing through the closets. Sewing kit gone, and balls of yarn. No message, no sign. Into the desk. Locked. He took the poker and smashed it through the smooth veneer. Curled his fingers round the side and ripped off the cover. Inside, neat and clean, and empty. But for a few of my calling cards. Through the kitchen. Looking in the garage. Gray puddle of water coming in under the door. No pram. An empty shell of concrete blocks.
Back to the pot boiling on the stove. Tea and aspirin. Auburn is tea. And tea is about all there is. This is a day when they put the clods on the pine box. Jesus, where are the warm moist winds from the Atlantic and the tropical plants in profusion. I'll die of cold. Do something. Shave. Is it true that women are frigid because men don't have beards? Marion, you've taken your hairy tits away. For butchered Christ, I'm finished. No blades. Shave with the edge of the tub. Miss Frost, I must borrow your towel, criminal, but these are desperate times. I'm going to sprinkle nitric acid on Mr. Skully's Axminster rug.
On the mantelpiece is one of my treasured possessions, my stoical statue which has a cross on the belly. I must now lie without movement, eyeballs frozen in my head. Absolute zero. So Marion has left me holding the bag in which there are two leases. There's a game called cricket And this is a wet wicket
Sebastian went to sleep in the supine chair. At five forty five, Miss Frost came in. In my dream I had just given orders to lower lifeboats, to start singing and a few other things and I went to the bow to lower myself into an unsinkable rubber raft. This was April 14th, 1912. And the sea was icy. The light on. Miss Frost standing in the doorway. Looking. Embarrassed.
"O, Mr. Dangerfield."
"Excuse me, Miss Frost, I'm afraid I fell asleep"
"O."
Dangerfield sweeps the rug around, covering his exposed parts.
"I'm sorry for all this mess, Miss Frost"
"That's all right, Mr. Dangerfield."
"I hate to ask for such a thing, Miss Frost, but I wonder, could you ever let me have a cigarette ? "
"Certainly, Mr. Dangerfield, I'd be glad to, here,"
"I really am very grateful—very grateful indeed."
"I don't know how to say this, Mr. Dangerfield, but Mrs. Dangerfield told me to tell you that she's not coming back.0
"Can you tell me where she has gone?"
"She was very upset and she left without saying exactly, although I understood that she was taking the Liverpool boat and she had a ticket on the train to Edinburgh"
"Rash"
"She was disturbed"
"Couldn't have gotten my gram"
"I don't think she got a telegram"
"No. More's the pity. Avoid this misunderstanding. Rash."
"I'll clean up a little here, M
r. Dangerfield."
"O don't bother, Miss Frost. Leave it to me. I'll take care of it. Desk was a little stuck."
"O no, Mr. Dangerfield, you look so tired. I'll do it. It will only take a minute. I bought some bread and sausages. 1 think there are a few tomatoes in the cupboard. Would you like to share them with me, Mr. Dangerfield? You must be very hungry."
"I couldn't, Miss Frost, it's not fair"
"Please do, Mr. Dangerfield"
"Well, it's extremely kind of you, Miss Frost"
"O it's nothing at all, really."
"God damn, arse hole, bitch."
"Is something the matter, Mr. Dangerfield?"
"O no, Miss Frost—my leg a little itchy. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll change for dinner."
"Certainly, Mr. Dangerfield."
Swathed in blanket, Sebastian crept from the room. I'm an Iroquois for sure.
He put on his corduroy trousers, kept hidden and damp in a drawer. And difficulty buttoning the fly. Don't want any pink penis showing or Miss Frost will think I'm being suggestive for sure. And I could never bear another night- mare due to exposure of part or parts. Must be careful of my approach to Miss Frost Rather nice. Fine. And there weren't many of them these days. All after foul wampum. O where is the dignity? Old families and estates? Carriages and footmen? The vulgarity that has come to pass. Put them back down. Back down. And Marion with them. Sneak off, go ahead. Get out, stay out. Wouldn't give me a chance. Some day you'll show up when I'm back where I belong in this world. When I have what I ought to have. My due. And when you do. My gamekeepers will drive you out and away for good. Out. Away. Out
He was yelling.
"Is there anything wrong in there, Mr.Dangerfield?"
"Quite all right. Everything's all right"
"Whenever you're ready, Mr. Dangerfield."
"Thank you, Miss Frost"
The Ginger Man Page 17