Schultz

by J. P. Donleavy

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of god, and in the face of this congregation.”

  Stifled coughs erupting in the hush. A child’s voice. I must I must nanny, do wee wee. Holy shit, down to earth human nature has intruded at last. Binky with all these important people around looks like he’s up there shaking with laughter or nervousness. Who wouldn’t be, watching his Lordship get tied up like this. After all the time they’ve been wantonly satisfying carnal lusts and appetites like brute beasts in Sperm Productions, they then, just like magic go get spliced to creatures of quality.

  “I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed that if either of you know any impediment.”

  The echoing vowels of the grey headed bishop. The figures before him. Wow is he kidding, I ask you, who could find an impediment. Jesus the difference between people in this world. In the early struggling days of my father’s first store a customer came in near closing time after a whole day of hardly any turnover and between my mother and father tearing her to bits between them reducing the price to sell her something the woman could hardly escape she was having so many bargains pushed in her face.

  “Basil, Andrew, George, Albert wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife.”

  The voice resonating in all this ancient history. A child whimpering. Jesus. I love the words. Wilt thou obey, serve, love, honor, keep him in sickness and in health and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him. Just like having a stray au pair at your mercy. His Lordship real close now. Wilt thou, Violet, Elizabeth, Alexandra, Felicia take thee, Basil, Andrew, George, Albert, to thy wedded husband, for good times and better times, for richer or millions, for healthier holidays, castles and estates. Any second now. With this ring I thee wed. And it’s curtains. With all my endless goods I thee smother. In the name of his Lordship’s forests, railroads, ranches, mines, distilleries, amen. Jesus what women won’t do to get up that fucking aisle. They’ll even sacrifice the man they love.

  “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.”

  The organ thundering. The choir in full voice bellowing. This moment I can’t forget for the rest of my life. It’s just too beautiful. Makes me want to cry. The new radiant Countess beaming. Coming along the aisle. Marching out on his Lordship’s arm. Whispering nodding little hellos to the smiling faces in the rows of pews.

  Schultz on the aisle. Giving the pale as a ghost bridegroom the Woonsocket hi sign and then promptly tripping over an armorial emblazoned kneeling pad to stumble out of the pew altogether. Bumping into a naval suited disembarking reigning foreign sovereign. Who politely sidestepped as an immediate small commotion was triggered off among security personnel at the back of the Abbey. Binky’s face slightly blue with bottled up laughter turning to look back.

  In the sunlight and blaze of cameras the newlyweds stood on the Abbey step. The bridge ecstatic and the groom stretching his neck in his collar frowning at requests from photographers to smile.

  In a snug courtyard environ of St. James’s another cavalcade of cars disgorging. Schultz ducking out of his limousine, hopped up the steps to jerk thumbs at his carnation as the major domo stepped to intervene.

  “Invitation sir.”

  “It was destroyed. My carnation is the password.”

  “Sorry sir.”

  “Hey I got a right to go in there.”

  “Sorry sir. Other guests are waiting. Step aside please.”

  “Like hell I will.”

  Schultz striding forth into the massive marble interior festooned with flowers. The gleamingly smooth staircase balustrade ahead between which guests slowly ascend. Schultz bounding up three steps at a time towards the din of voices. The blue uniformed beribboned commissionaire above on the landing. Jesus my name is going to be announced.

  “Excuse me fella, you don’t mind if I just squeeze by incognito.”

  “Sorry sir. I must announce you.”

  “Whisper will you. Sigmund Schultz is the name.”

  “I know who you are sir.”

  “You do.”

  “You’re Mr. Schultz, the well known impresario.”

  With a gentle ushering by the elbow and friendly nod from the commissionaire, Schultz steered into the receiving line. Waiting behind a monocled Field Marshal who looked around once like I was trying to steal a decoration off his chest. Jesus but what a relief somebody at last knows who the fuck I am out of this fucking collection of big shots. No sign of his Lordship. Gloved hands held out. One lemony smile after another. The bride’s highly fuckable mother with a lorgnette, yet. And her lemony smile.

  “How do you do Mr. Schultz.”

  “Hi.”

  “So glad you could come.”

  Into the crescendo beneath this vast gold embellished ceiling. Wandering past the talkative little groups. Massive portraits around the walls. Whiffs of perfume. Clink of glass. Cutlery clonking on plates. High pitched vowels everywhere. Eyes looking down their noses. And Jesus christ right now the side view of my face is more than ever out of place. With not a single soul I can talk to. My god. Except that.

  Schultz stopping stunned and transfixed. Through a gap between two naval uniforms, stood an awe inspiring tall tanned silken limbed ash blond female. Her fruity body engloved in a raw silk orange dress. Holy cow, now that is exactly what I’ve been looking for all my life.

  Schultz giving his lapels a quick brush down with his fingers, straightening his shoulders and moving towards the lady. Just as four dark suited security men increased their speed and quietly closed in behind him with a tap on the shoulder.

  “Sir if you wouldn’t mind coming with us.”

  “Holy shit when is somebody going to leave me alone for christ’s sake.”

  “Now come along quietly now please sir.”

  Schultz, flanked by two broad shouldered gentlemen, was led by another and nudged from the rear by a fourth gent and guided through the babbling assembly towards a distant door in a distant wall.

  “Hey come on, don’t for christ’s sake exasperate me.”

  “Quietly now please sir, we must warn you. One false move and you will be shot.”

  “Shot. Hey come on. This is a joke.”

  “Quietly sir. No joke. This way now.”

  “What, are you trying to throw me out. Look at the colour of my carnation for christ’s sake.”

  “I’m afraid sir, the colour of your carnation is a deeply suspicious shade. And we would appreciate your helping us, sir, with the making of our further enquiries.”

  “Enquire for christ’s sake right here, I’m not moving another fucking inch.”

  The bride in white silk, her veil held under a diamond and pearl tiara, stood a mere ten paces away, her hand to lips, as Schultz, wrenching his arm free from one dark suited detective, bolted. Knocking a high ranking clergyman’s champagne splashing on his black toggery, as a security guard made a grab. Only to rip open Schultz’s tailcoat seam down the back as he spun around loose in a move practised from previous unwanted apprehensions.

  “I say there, stop sir, stop.”

  Schultz sailing through a group of pages and bridesmaids and across an open space on the parquet. Chased by the detective who’d taken up the rear of the proceedings and who now flung himself in a horizontal rugby tackle to hit Schultz from behind just below the knees. Both engripped bodies flying face first across the polished floor amid the oooing and ahhhing of the rapidly space making guests. Schultz’s head coming to rest face up between the feet of a tall languid pink Chantilly lace encrusted lady lifting her lorgnette and eyebrows, staring down.

  “Dear me, the incredible cheek of gatecrashers these days. It does make one yearn. Doesn’t it. For previous and more decent times.”

  Madam

  I couldn’t

  Agree with you

  Fucking more

  18

  At the commotion on that fatal mid
day, Binky had in an ante room excused himself from his Lordship’s presence, being as his Royal Grace was more than surrounded by two of London’s leading dentists both trying to get a good look with pencil torches into his Lordship’s mouth as well as a throat specialist peeking into his Lordship’s trachea where it was believed a toothbrush bristle lay lodged.

  Binky spying the altercation just a mere thirty yards away near the room’s main vast rose marble chimneypiece, hurriedly made his way through the nearly hysterically animated assemblage, while bracing himself to dispense suitable vowels to quell whatever disquiet had arisen. Until catching sight of the starring participant. Binky’s striped trousered knees buckling, his elbows gathering tightly into his ribs as his sides helplessly split with a silently cataclysmic laughter.

  An apprehended red faced Schultz nailed to the floor by several knees. A detective’s hand over his mouth, an arm across his throat, feet shaken out of his shoes, one toe twitching whitely out of a considerable hole in his black sock. Binky’s pained face, eyebrows contorted to erase the glee, his hands held limp and helpless as he struggled walking backwards further and further away from the pinioned Schultz who at last managed to sink his teeth into one of the detective’s fingers as both of them howled out loud.

  “Binky, Binky, for christ’s sake this isn’t funny, get them off, they’re trying to castrate me.”

  Binky, mirth exploding through his teeth, taking a deep lungful of air and finally rigidly straightening his back to slowly march, chin raised with parade ground splendour, towards the pinioned Schultz. To stand tiptoe over him.

  “My dear chap I have never seen you before in my life.”

  “I swear Binky I’ll never forgive you for this.”

  “Take the wretch away.”

  “You son of a bitch, Binky.”

  “And I must say to you gentlemen of our Metropolitan Police Force, such a splendid job you’ve done at downing this imposter.”

  “Only doing our duty sir.”

  The monocles and lorgnettes up over eyes looking distinctly the other way. A wide space opening wider around the red faced Schultz. Detectives lifting him by the armpits to his stockinged feet. As Binky feigned a presto pronto wide eyed surprise.

  “O my goodness gentlemen. O dear me. But I do think there may be some misunderstanding here. Upon my word, it’s the well known impresario, Mr. Sigmund Franz Schultz. I simply did not recognise him in his floored horizontal position. You must not bring him to the tower for execution as he is, I fear, a very special guest and an acquaintance of some duration of Lord Nectarine’s.”

  “Boy, Binky thanks a lot, you really know how to ruin friends and influence people, don’t you.”

  Faces flushed and ties askew. Schultz sticking his foot back into his one shoe as security men with a litany of murmured apologies brushed and patted him and went searching for the other of his missing footwear. Binky, a hand on his strained stomach muscles now making a space for Schultz through the newly collected circle of interested folk. Pushing past a moustachioed eagle nosed chap with the conspicuously low rank of major who not only was assuming an instant vigilante posture but who also cleared his throat to loudly boom.

  “A good bang with the broadside of a sword across the backside is what some of these wretched wogs need these days.”

  “Ah Schultz, did you hear that. What on earth are we going to do with you. First nearly causing an international incident stumbling out at passing royalty in the Abbey. And now dear me here you are tail coat in tatters, shoe missing, with hysterical security men thinking you a terrorist assassin. One even overheard a thoroughly alarmed relative of the bride ask if you were related to the groom.”

  “Christ Binky, I went the fuck out my door this morning to this wedding with a song in my heart.”

  “When in fact Schultz as his Royal Grace might say, you should have gone out with a built in steel jock strap over your balls.”

  “It’s all the result of what that bitch you made me visit in the hospital did to me, ripping up all my mail, my photographs, my invitations. So now I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Jesus don’t they have any drink here.”

  “Schultz, can’t you hear. Champagne corks going off like shotguns at the shoot. Ah waiter. Allow us to lighten your tray.”

  “And you fucker. I saw you when you saw me when I was down. Look at this carnation you gave me. Everytime someone sees it I get suddenly jumped on by secret police.”

  “Ah Schultz perhaps the hue is a little dark. But we do love you. We really do. You must never, even in your own most worst stricken abyss, think that we don’t. You’re the only man I know who can reduce dull reality to the sublimely ridiculous in a trice. One understands now why you’re sent Royal invitations to the palace.”

  “For the confidence bolstering thanks a lot Binky. Boy do I need this drink. But before all this violence, the solemnity of that whole church ceremony really got me. No shit. I was nearly in tears. A nice guy like his Lordship tied up for life. Thank God I’m still married to the theatre. And nothing else.”

  “And dear Schultz although you do sometimes sound like a colonel in a dud regiment, one does so admire your resolve and especially the way you so easily combine your social, emotional and theatrical activities.”

  “Activities. You mean tragedies. Jesus where’s his Lordship so I can say something nice to him.”

  “His Royal Grace, poor old devil, is at this very moment being attended upon in an ante room by a bevy of specialist chaps.”

  “Holy shit he’s not clapped up or something.”

  “And well you might Schultz, think such a dire thought. But an impacted molar is I believe the difficulty. And some little trouble in the trachea. One does I suppose so hate to see him sail off into what may be sometimes questionably referred to as wedded bliss. But then such disruptive things do befall one in life. Nevertheless let me propose a toast Schultz. To that stunningly inspired batsman and bowler, one of Oxford’s and England’s most revered cricketers, that dear dear old skin, his Amazing Grace Master of Foxhounds.”

  “Sure, to his Lordship.”

  “And Schultz to you. To finding your other shoe. And to victory. Both in showbizz and in matrimony.”

  “Holy shit leave the matrimony out will you.”

  Schultz downing two glasses of champagne one after the other, and watching over the rim of his tilted glass the dazzlingly handsome grey swallow tailed figure of Binky now followed by several ladies’ eyes as well as those of a rather slack wristed gaitered clergyman, as he strode away out across the polished parquet under the gilt and multi hued ceilings of this vast room. His quietly pleasant countenance smiling. His assuring fingers firmly shaking the outstretched hands. His lips dispensing his softly spoken whimsicalities, as he passed leaving these loud haughty echoing voices in his wake. Admirals, Bishops and holy cow his Excellency the Ambassador from across the street. Who’s got one of his Lordship’s gorgeous married sisters in deep conversation. And what perfume is this at my shoulder. And christ this orange fabric of real raw silk.

  “Your shoe sir.”

  “O hey gee thanks.”

  “I hope you will forgive my amusement but you know you did really give a rather good account of yourself.”

  “I rather to hell I didn’t if you want to rather know the truth. But if someone like you turns up with my shoe, holy christ, I wouldn’t mind losing both feet.”

  “You’re much too flattering sir. But from your expression standing here alone just now, one would have thought the whole world had fallen in on you.”

  “Do I look that bad.”

  “Well perhaps not quite that bad.”

  Schultz bending to tie his shoelace. And at the same time taking an eye straining gander at this creature’s splendid gaskins.

  “Hey who are you.”

  “I’m Basil’s sister.”

  “What another sister. I thought I met all his Lordship’s sisters.”

  “I’m the si
ster about whom little is said.”

  “Well let me tell you straight off the bat I’d say plenty about you. You’re absolutely gorgeous. What’s your telephone number.”

  “Mr. Schultz, you are rather quick off the mark.”

  “Sure I am, where have you been all my life.”

  “Well for the last awfully dull six months I’ve been sitting lonely abandoned in Monte Carlo watching the yachts come and go.”

  “Well Jesus honey, thank god you got back. I got to have your phone number.”

  “Are you Mr. Schultz meaning to have me over to that notorious town house of yours. Where ladies are seen by dawn’s early light running for their lives out the door.”

  “Hey who said that. Notorious. Not a thing happens there. Hey don’t go. I’m in love with you.”

  “Ha ha, I must Mr. Schultz, ha ha. I must.”

  “Hey I beg of you give me your phone number.”

  “Ha Ha, Mr. Schultz, ha ha.”

  Schultz watching her silken shimmering hair, her small waist swelling to splendid hips, as this aloof twinkling eyed lady departed. And suddenly feeling a hearty lung contusing clap on the back. Schultz’s mouthful of champagne sputtering out over the floor as the rotund figure of his ever present neighbour the Ambassador parked elbow close, his ebony face ablaze in his usual smile.