‘My name is Reginald Darcy Thormond Dancer Kildare. And not Dancer Thormond.’
‘O. Good gracious. And dear me. But I believe that such a slight variation as that is referred to in legal circles as being de minimis.’
‘You don’t, do you, Kildare know what that means.’
‘It means to be of a significance so small as to be deserving of no remedy.’
‘Dear me, you are a clever sort. But anyway one could be forgiven for getting names like yours a little mixed up. Now tell us, what do you know of the death of the Viscount Horatio Nelson. He is you see our patron, absent in death of course. Our members learn everything there is to know about the noble admiral’s life. And it is the required duty of any of our members to once each term climb to the top of Nelson’s pillar in Dublin.’
‘I know little of him and care less and would not climb a mouse’s back in his honour.’
‘Ah just as Supreme number two has mournfully reported to us. You are cheeky, irreverent but spunky. And handy with words aren’t you. What if we were to tell you that we cannot tolerate such remarks.’
‘Don’t.’
‘Don’t. O dear. Kildare, if you are not merely chancing your arm, you are for someone so recently arrived very much assured. But as you have yet to prove yourself to us you are not entitled to such haughty behaviour.’
‘I shall be as haughty as I damn well please.’
‘You mean that you are asking us to employ methods sanctioned by the Presidium and usually reserved for boys in lower forms, to make you see the light. I mean come come don’t for heaven’s sake try to make seeming shocking cads of us. We want to give you every chance. We want only to have a trim well run ship. And avoid floggings. We all benefit that way. Things are then conducted in a predictable manner. There are our circle wanks. A prize for those who can come off first. We have, as well, for those desiring, our own personal female slut. You would wouldn’t you Kildare like to know what it’s like to fuck a female. Or if one has made close friends with a boy of a lower form and you wish to have shall we say further and better particulars of his attractions. Well. Nothing could be simpler. Your privacy is ensured. Doesn’t that make sense to you.’
‘If you’re finished I should now like to return to my bed.’
‘We are not finished, not by a long chalk. Is that not so Supreme number two.’
‘Quite so Supreme number one.’
‘And so, Kildare, imagine, here you are. Totally at our mercy. And you choose to continue to behave like this. O well. I think the time has come to show you who is boss. And I hereby direct as empowered under the Presidium that the sanctions be imposed for infractions under the syllabus of punishments as constituted. Take his arms and legs Supreme two three four five.’
‘Touch me and each of you will regret it in turn.’
‘Grab him.’
‘Let go of me.’
‘Hold him, for god’s sake, hold him.’
‘Christ he’s strong.’
‘Hold him, get his head in a lock. Get him down, down.’
‘Bloody hell, don’t let him loose, knocking over the candles.’
‘Get him, the fucking bastard.’
‘O Christ, where the hell is everyone.’
‘I’ve got him.’
‘No you haven’t, you’ve got me you stupid bastard.’
‘A newspaper is alight.’
‘Put it out you sod.’
‘I can’t while this fucking Kildare is loose.’
‘I’ve got him.’
‘You’ve got me again, you sod.’
Crunching splintering timber. Of feet plunging through the worm eaten floorboards. A box sent bouncing. And one last candle sent flickering out. The smell of burning. And brightness once more. Of the pile of newspapers alight. And a box as well. Allowing all to see once again in this attic darkness. The milling bodies, grabbing twisting tugging and tumbling one on top of the other.
‘Something’s burning.’
‘Of course it is you stupid sod, put it out.’
‘Good lord somebody, there really is a fire, it’s going.’
‘Get this wretched Kildare first, get him.’
‘Eeeeke. Who’s got me. Someone’s got my balls.’
‘No need to scream about it.’
‘The ruddy wretch, stop him, he’s pulling my balls off.’
‘A randy devil like you will soon grow another pair.’
‘Voices down, you awful dumb ninnies, you’ll wake the dead.’
‘Well the place is ruddy well burning down, and that will ruddy well roast the dead.’
‘This is what it must have been like for Nelson at the battle of Trafalgar.’
‘Stop. This is Supreme number one speaking. Stop. I order it. The ruddy fire’s spreading. Let him go. Put the fire out. Put it out for god’s sake.’
‘There’s nothing to put it out with.’
‘Use jackets, anything.’
‘Good lord. The school is on fire. It’s ruddy well on fire. It ruddy well is.’
‘Let’s then get the ruddy hell out of here.’
‘Get water out of the tank.’
‘How, you stupid wretch.’
‘Climb in. Overflow it or something.’
‘You overflow it. I’m not drowning in there.’
‘We can’t let the whole school burn down.’
In the orange licking light, Supreme number three, climbing up and over the sides of the tank. Splashing in the water. Supreme number two coughing and eyes smarting.
‘That’s no fucking good. It’s not reaching the fire.’
‘Break the pipe.’
‘You can’t.’
‘Well you can’t get water like that.’
‘O God. The fumes. This is awful. I can’t breathe.’
‘Raise the alarm.’
‘Shut up, I’m giving commands. Quick all grab the pipe. Come on Kildare. You’re in this too. Break it. Altogether. When I count to three. One. Two. Three. Heave. Christ.’
The pipe wrenched from its join at the foot of the tank. Water shooting out in a jet across the attic floor, and splashing up against a joist supporting the roof.
‘Good God all that’s going to do is flood the entire school.’
‘Let’s get out of here. And anyone who breathes a word about this will answer to the Presidium.’
‘Look at it, the flames are spreading right along those dead ivy leaves. Right down the whole attic. There won’t even be a Presidium if you don’t get out of here fast.’
The trapdoor to the water closet pulled open. A whoosh of air coming in along with the electric light. Flames suddenly waxing brighter. Feverish hands grabbing. Count the silhouette of heads. Five figures crouched. The ladder lowered down. Supreme number one clambering into this much sought after aperture. To take an instantly ill appreciated precedence in exiting.
‘I say Supreme number one, that’s not awfully exemplary, leaving the rest of us behind. Certainly not in the spirit of Nelson who would be the last to leave his sinking ship.’
‘Shut up number three, this is a ruddy burning school not a ruddy ship. Besides with you stupidly soaking wet and diving in the water tank, I have to be at the bottom of the ladder first to count to make sure no one else has followed your feeble minded example and is left behind drowning.’
‘You liar.’
‘That’s a challenge.’
‘You bet it is.’
‘Shush. Good lord listen. It’s roaring. The fire is beginning to roar. Isn’t that marvellous how it can do that.’
‘It may be marvellous Supreme number five but upon my great grand aunt Queen Victoria, I am, gentlemen, not remaining to listen but am about to say toodle ooo. And upon decamping out of here where it’s already beginning to piss down from the ceiling I’m going to watch this conflagration from the front ruddy lawn in relative ruddy comfort.’
‘Come back here number four.’
‘Fuck you number one.’
‘By god, you sod I’ll see you flogged before the main mast.’
‘Well I’ll see you, my good man, barbecued before the school assembly.’
‘Someone’s got to yell fire. Quickly. We must rouse the school.’
‘Come on number two, and Kildare, get down.’
Darcy Dancer helping to guide Supreme number two clutching at the rungs. His eyes blinking and blinded by smoke. As these two last escapees descend spluttering and choking. Supreme number three holding the ladder at the bottom while shaking his head sidewards to dislodge water out of his ears. His soaked clothes clinging and a puddle collecting at his feet. Supreme number two wiping his eyes with a handkerchief.
‘I’ll say one thing for you, Kildare, you’re quite sporting. Thank you.’
‘No reason to abandon someone just because his closest colleagues do.’
‘Yes, well thank you again. I won’t, I promise forget it. But God they’re all gone. Leave the ladder. And we had better not stand here on ceremony.’
‘Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire.’
A voice shouting down the halls. Supreme number two running with one hand holding up his trousers. He trips and falls flat on his face just as the lights come on. And promptly go off again as I feel my way along this wall to retrace steps down the tiny narrow staircase. Take deep clean breaths of air. The sound of more running feet echoing. Ahead a bit of light. Move along this corridor. Here’s the archway and landing. Down three steps. Turn right. A door slamming. Shouts of fire now. Everywhere. Just time to get into this dormitory before anyone sees me. And let out my own little shout.
‘Fire. The school is on fire.’
Darcy Dancer as the light switches on. Running down the centre aisle between the grey tubular iron framed beds. Pulling on again his jacket just removed. And all these heads pop up from their pillows. And start to stare with blinking and rubbed eyes.
‘Where. Where.’
With Awfully Stupid, most alert of all sitting up on his elbows. A deep frown on his singularly pasty unattractive face.
‘Kildare, is there really a fire.’
‘Yes.’
‘O my goodness. I must save my chocolate fudge.’
Awfully Stupid jumping out of bed. Rummaging in his locker. As a scream emits further up the dormitory room.
‘Look at that Kildare. What’s happened. The ceiling, the water is pouring down out of the ceiling over there.’
‘By jove, so it is, Kelly. How observant of you.’
‘Look, the plaster’s coming away, it really is pouring. And good lord right down on Pratt’s bed, and he’s still asleep poor sod.’
A master at the entrance of the dormitory in long white night cap. Tightening the belt of his dressing gown. A blanket clutched and pulled over his shoulders. Holding an arm out. Halting the first of the eagerly departing. And shouting down the line of beds.
‘Remember your drill, remember your drill. File out now, in an orderly fashion boys. To the left to the end of the corridor and down the kitchen stairs. Quickly. The school I regret to say is on fire. Leave belongings behind. But no need to panic. In orderly fashion now. Quick march. That’s it. Count you. As you go. Thirteen fourteen fifteen.’
Darcy Dancer, pushing many stockinged feet into his shoes. Painfully squeezing my metacarples into where they won’t fit with all these woolly layers. Awfully Stupid’s eyes bulging. A tin flowered box under his arm.
‘O dear kildare, there really is a fire.’
‘Of course there is, can’t you see everyone is leaving.’
‘I want to stay with you. Why are you putting on all those clothes and things.’
‘Because in the two or so hours it takes to watch the school burn down to the ground, it’s going to be awfully cold outside.’
‘You’re so right, you’re so absolutely right Kildare.’
‘Come on don’t dawdle.’
Darcy Dancer pushing Awfully Stupid in front of him. The master as they approach counting them twenty six and twenty seven.
‘You’re the new boy. That should be all of you. Go quickly now. Catch the others up. Good grief that groaning sound is that the ceiling.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Why it’s about to come down. Good lord it is coming down.’
The master, Darcy Dancer and Awfully Stupid all taking a step backwards. A cat scurrying past in the hall. Clearly everyone’s making a run for it. Lights grow strangely bright. As a great massive span of white dripping plaster, bellied downwards, yawns, creaks and cracks. Breaking and splintering from laths and joists. To plummet on beds, lockers and across the aisle. Thunderously followed by volumes of water pouring down on the rubble. The master putting his hands up to the sides of his face.
‘O my god. We’re ruined. O my god. Go on boys, go on. Out with you.’
A master standing now in front of each little group ranged over the soggy lawn. Lights on in all the school windows. Flames shooting from the roof of the north wing, reddening the smoke ascending into a descending fog. Bell ringing. Boys in pyjamas trembling in the chill. Older boys and members of the Presidium rushing in and out and up and down the front steps. Carrying portraiture. Others lugging chairs. Some unsportingly grinning. A little voice piping up behind one.
‘This is jolly good fun.’
‘Ruddy right but wish the flames would spread faster and keep us warmer.’
Motor car lights coming out along a road. An old man hobbling in big black boots and overcoat and carrying a pail of water towards the entrance. A cheer going up. A master pushing the old gentleman back with his pail. And a boo erupting. Awfully Stupid giving me a blow by blow description as he chews insanely on his cubes of delicious smelling chocolate fudge without offering me one.
‘That’s old Conners, the cricket pitch groundsman, and they won’t let him go in to fight the fire.’
‘He’d hardly get anywhere with merely a bucket of water, Kelly.’
‘Goodness Kildare, I guess you are so absolutely right, he wouldn’t would he. Look. The flames. The slates are falling through and the flames are coming right out. Right over our dormitory nearly reaching our beds.’
‘It’s not very good for the school, is it Kelly.’
‘I should say not Kildare, I should certainly say not. Look the headmaster. He hasn’t combed his hair. Getting up on the steps. lie must be going to make an announcement.’
‘All right attention everybody. Attention now. Cease the idle chatter. Now I want all of you. To listen carefully. There’s a long night ahead of us. And a cold one. Some of you may of course not have seen a school burn down before.’
‘Ha ha.’
‘But I don’t think there is any question but that many of you have not wanted to see one burn down.’
‘Ha ha ha.’
‘Alright cease the laughter. We are presently awaiting the arrival of the town fire brigade. Meanwhile our own school fire apparatus is being employed. We may be able to confine the fire to the north wing. In such case you boys from the north wing will double up. And I want no larking. We will serve a hot drink soon from the kitchens.’
‘Hear hear.’
‘Cease those remarks. All of you are to stay where you are until instructed to do otherwise. And on no account is anyone to re-enter the school. That is all. Except that a full investigation is to be carried out. As to the cause of the fire. I want any of you with any information to come to me and disclose such.’
‘Kildare do you think someone started the fire deliberately.’
‘I’m sure I don’t know Kelly.’
‘Gosh that would be really not nice.’
‘No Kelly it would not be nice at all if someone did set the school alight.’
‘Someone must have done it.’
‘Kelly who is that girl who made my bed.’
‘O she is called Slut. Out of her hearing of course. The Presidium members take turns with her on a mattress they have behind the water tank in the attic. She’s quite k
indly you know. She was put up the pole by a big landowner. And was sent to do penance in a convent after she had a baby. The Presidium are always snatching feels of her. And pushing her up the ladder into the attic. She sometimes slaps them. But mostly she giggles. Goodness that’s where the fire is. Right where the Presidium meets. Was that where they were holding your inquisition, Kildare.’
‘O no, we held that quietly in the library.’
A long file of boys moving off. Circling now around the school, heading on the gravel path, for the back kitchen. Sound of a sputtering motor vehicle. Must be the school’s personal fire engine. Lights fading and then brightening as the beams cut through the foggy darkness out across the park land. Its ancient wheels pulling to a stop at the front steps. Part of it painted red. Three men kitted out in long rubber coats unwinding a hose. Running up the wide grey entrance of the school. One carrying an axe. A moment later all coming back out again to say the hose won’t reach. The engine pumping water. Pointing the hose nozzle at the north wing. Driblets coming out as rain begins to fall. A cheer rising from all the assembled pyjama clad sneezing and shivering boys. Seems appropriate at this juncture that one should now just slowly slip away. And ask this stingy Kelly for some of his fudge.
‘Where are you going Kildare.’
‘To relieve myself Kelly. And might I ask you to have a piece of fudge.’
‘Certainly you may. But only a little piece.’
‘Let me have the box so I may choose something suitably small.’
‘Hey where are you going Kildare with my box.’
‘I’ll bring it back. In just a moment. Don’t panic’.
Darcy Dancer crossing over the soft mossy lawn. And further out into the wide wide darkness. Look back at the lines of assembled heads. The fire’s flames licking from the roof top up into the falling rain. Shouts and arguments as staff members assisted by older boys continue to lug out paintings and furniture. Mr Arland’s kind friend in a pair of boots and covered sensibly in a sou’wester. Directing the traffic of objets d’art. Had I hidden under the bed till all were gone from the dormitory, they might think I had perished in the flames. Then in my own living flesh I’d be off now in the world and be entirely somebody else. Except there would have to be a black charred skeleton left. If bones don’t burn. With perhaps only Mr Arland to mourn my departure. And maybe Miss von B too. And Uncle Willie. And now as I vault this stud rail fence. Clutch niggardly Kelly’s box of chocolate fudge tightly. That woman’s face. Staring at me making my bed and serving the soup. Seen her before. Down in the kitchens of Andromeda Park. She was a girl then. During my mother’s life. When the household’s senior members had their own servants to serve them under the big vaulted ceiling of the staff dining room. Closed up now all these years. Remember her on the stairs. And heaving big platters to table. When I sat with Crooks, Norah, Sheila and Kitty. She had then big mounds of glossy black hair. Rosy cheeks and blue eyes. Face all pale and thin now. Her hair all dull and greasy. Climb over this stone wall. The rain coming down in buckets. If it puts out the fire, it will also fatally warp all the school’s antiques. Uncle Willie said to me once. That if ever I should come upon hard times that I should go to him. And instead here I am. On this lake shore. Tripping over the stones. Hear the long beep of a plover. Go around till I can cut again back across fields. O god now I’m trodding in bottoms. Squelch of water. Coming up the sides of my shoes. Feet already wet. Must reach dry land. Over this ditch. Got to jump. Sexton said there may be a little water on top but it can be six feet deep in mud underneath. What’s that. A massive shadow. Moving. Big white curly head. Two horns nicely curving down. On a Hereford bull. Dear God. Although I don’t believe in you, here is an opportunity for you to prove to me you exist. If you will just not let that beast come after me, trapped as I am here on all fours on the edge of this bank.
The Destinies of Darcy Dancer, Gentleman Page 20