The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

  "Dear boy, I don't know what the Violet Infanta's advisors and principals want. Fve told them granny will go to her maker any day and I will be immortally rich. They say they are advised from confidential sources my granny will go on living for years and years, the reports say she has the heart of a twelve year old girl. It is all simply too too sad. The Infanta when I roger her says she's got to wank. Asked me if I minded her tickling herself off in that manner. I said don't be a miserable so and so, of course I don't mind. Of course you may wank if it gives an extra pleasure. Full steam to orgasm. Sometimes the Infanta wears an expression of staggeringly splendid stupidity on her face, utterly endearing. I'm frightened I may be becoming more fond of her than her money. She has an awfully beautiful back. Ah my God Balthazar, you're a father. I'm not even a husband yet. And from last week no longer an elevator operator. Too awful. I am about to reveal my address to the world as the Savoy Steps, a nice crooked little street behind the Monarch's church where there's no doorway to deliver an envelope to."

  Beefy with his strangely delicate fingers playing with the stem of his glass. Boats entering, lifting up another bottle laid down in the ice. His hands shaking as he undid the wire over the cork. Which hit him on the forehead and nearly knocked him out. We sat there stilled by Boats' lofty elegance as he silently withdrew. And I asked Beefy, who has so often sailed through my life, yawing and heaving, cutting through the waves under a brisk following breeze, how had he lost command of his lift.

  "It happened most unexpectedly. I'd been taking chaps up to the top floor throughout the afternoon. Had this Chinese coin with a hole in it in the palm of my hand. If I had a chap with me travelling alone, I'd mumble an aside that this was the tip the last passenger gave me. Worked marvellously time and again in producing a couple of bob. Anyway, I'm as usual conducting a most well run lift. Giving smart salutes to those passengers deserving it. And slipping out a morsel of a fart at others meeting with my displeasure, mostly of the untutored talkative variety addressing me without invitation. This is marvellously good champagne Balthazar. So good to see you sitting there. Happy in your own little buzzing home. Nice. But me alas. I sped my elevator to the top floor. To take down some of the day's last passengers. There they were, an even dozen gents. Although all short, all extremely wide. They were pushing, all wanting down at once. Well I mean to say, one has had authority over a company of men in the field. I said gentlemen, the capacity of this machine is seven, the first seven please only. The entire twelve instantly crushed forward. I announced over the heads that we would plummet to the bottom of the lift shaft and if one gentleman would step back he could laugh himself sick at the sight. Well it was quite clear that they were not about to let one of their number get to the bottom first. A most horrid group. Fuck-pigs of multiplicities, distinguished as they were by jug handled ears and halitosis. They mocked my safety precautions. I announced once more that the capacity was seven. The pushing became even more prevalent. I was poohpoohed in an aggressive manner. Their cigars were starting to stick into the back of each other's necks. I thought you saucy chaps, you're all fiddling with each other's genitals at the closest of quarters. The lift was already swaying and groaning with the weight. Again I announced the risk. No one could bear to be the chap to step out and be left behind. The last bugger who finally squeezed himself aboard had his arse stuck in the doors. Wouldn't close. There was a general exhaling and he was fitted in. The mixture of smells was sickening. By the time they all got on they could have walked down. I thought well, stand by my post. A guardsman always. Of course I reckoned we were quite safe. I manoeuvered the power handle over to descend. Slowly. But we were picking up speed. The sixth floor passed by. The fourth flashed by. And the rest simply didn't exist at all. Not nice. I pressed and pulled and switched the emergency yokes. The whole gang of them shouting, what's wrong, stop it. I braced myself for the moment of impact at basement level. Or perhaps lower. And my lift which I had run without the loss of single life was suddenly a load of moaning trembling sweating jelly. Screams of legal steps and negligence and we want out. My God, I thought wistfully of my pedigree. And my most modest position. The alarm bell now ringing. Stifling smoke from cigars. Like a crematorium. One accusing another that he was breathing his area of air. A third that his lawyers would already be looking into his disappearance. Two chaps just behind me however were engrossed in discussing percentages of a deal. Thirteen of us trapped for twenty five minutes. Finally in the lobby there were police, fire brigade, lawyers, all taking dispositions from the lift travellers who had suffered moral disfigurement and spiritual bitterness in the disastrous descent. And would sue for damages. Each one pointing a finger at me. Balthazar. My dear man. Here you are, in life, where I should so much like to be."

  Gallantly through dinner Beefy lightheartedly tickling the fancies of nurse and nannie. Through the somewhat long pauses as Boats got stuck outside the dining room door. His shoes far too big for him. The tray too heavy. Until the yells from cook brought us all running. Boats in the scullery covered in gravy and mint sauce. Beefy and I lifting the dear old gentleman bodily. Up to his bed. Putting compresses softly on his brow. As I had to rush to meet Alphonsine, an au pair arrived from France. In her soft grey suit, short cropped hair and pretty eyes. And quite extraordinary arse, much callipyge.

  But again we were all nice and settled. Cook laying a place for Alphonsine. As she sat shy with her wine, slabs of lamb, rhubarb custard, port and cheese. Which Beefy and I brought up to Boats and he lay propped with pillows in bed, a purple tasselled night cap on his white head. His faint blue eyes and delicate long fingered hands. We poured his port and held it for him to his lips and slowly he revived and indeed was rather animated and cheerful. Spoke of his great old days with Uncle Edouard and before that in the grandnesses of Wales. When he went shooting and fishing. And met his first love. Until he finally fell asleep and gently snored.

  Beefy and I sat there with the sleeping Boats. Quaffing a decanter of port. Quite silent. Tonight in England. Across all the stiff upper unmustached lips. Men not clever, not overly endowed with carnal prowess, but of normal pleasant appetites, only asking to enjoy their pudding in peace. Some with a quiet evening erection browsing through their erotica. Secure in their postal districts, or preferred counties. At slipper footed ease in their castles. And here in Crescent Curve where Boats busted the cut glass bowls one by one. To my cheered relief to see the last of these seventeen wedding presents purchased at the same sale finally disappear.

  "Of course Balthazar. I was so depressed. Nothing seemed dandy randy and delightful anymore. Wondering if the sun would ever come up again. To be witnessed solitary in London. Known that one's diary entries are nil. That one's life doesn't merit having the hours booked up. I chose some fluff from the Bayswater Road. And announced my desires. She said that will be two guineas extra. I said guineas. She said yes, Fm not like the other girls, my fees have always been in guineas. Very cheeky she was. I said peruse my organ and pull it gently for me please. I sang my repertoire of Irish ballads. She said aren't you the straightforward darling though. I said usually I was rather more craven but wasn't at my best tonight. She had a quite nice little place. She asked me if I wanted to watch her ride for two more guineas her rocking horse in her transparent macintosh. Of course, I screamed, I want to see you ride. Then she asked me to give her a little fluttering of the whip across her what for. I said madam that will be exactly three guineas. She was furious. But you know, suddenly again I was awfully cheered. At that moment. And my God. What happens. The floor was quivering. And shaking. As I laid on the lash. I knocked her over. Both of us fell. And one's one leg and a knee of the other went right through a blasted cardboard patch in the floor. Came out through the ceiling below, in a room where they were showing the second house of a dirty film. Well I scratched my head. I really did. And calmly looked down upon the scene. Not nice. Boats dear man is snoring there, I may be giving him dreams. But upon my word, the debacle of the lift was m
ost minor. There they were below. Dirty film goers. About fifteen of them. Trying to get out the door. Some through a blocked up window. I could catch a glimpse of the untoward film still flickering on its moth eaten screen. Of course they thought it was the police. Attacking from the top. I must confess I did myself whisper such a word. Thought it would frighten away complaints from below. Said this is the chief detective superintendent Beefy, everyone stay as you are. The thing was the chaps below were locked in. Pure murder. I recognised a titled cousin struggling in the dust and broken chairs to get out between someone's legs. Packed with peerage it was. One shouting out that he wished to call attention to the lack of sanitary provisions in a place of entertainment and was present there officially investigating the matter. Marvellous ruddy cheek of the chap. But enough Balthazar. I must go. Look how Boats sleeps. After his long gentle life. My God it makes one wish one had been born a butler."

  Quietly leaving Boats' room. Past Alphonsine's door. Where Beefy bent to peek in the keyhole and put his hand up to his amazed lips. As I dragged him away and down the stairs. To bid him a fond goodnight out my front door. Standing between the two little statues of doggies. Beefy patting them on the head. I watched him walk away down the street. Until the shadow of his jaunty shoulders turned the corner. After this April third day. Back in there the little family I'd founded. To look up at the sky. Mountains of cloud tumbling across the tree tops down the street. Rain beginning to fall. I sigh. When suddenly one is left without a complaint.

  The silent house. To pass back into my study. The wall now lined with volumes treating of the whole of the animal kingdom. Of the birds and snakes, of the monkey and the horse. Port left in the decanter on my desk. Sit at last for a little read of the paper. Sip the sweet splendour of this ancient fortified wine. And lay out the page. Of The Times. Announcing marriages, births and ruby weddings. And rows of deaths. Of all these pleasant ringing names. Adams, Blyth, Clutterbuck, Donoghue, Eliot. And.

  FITZDARE. On March 3ist, peacefully at The Manor, Co. Fermanagh, Elizabeth Astrid Benedicta Fitzdare, beloved only daughter of Raphael Fitzdare, in her twenty fourth year. Funeral private at The Manor. No flowers please.

  28

  I do and say nothing all these days. As I sit taking my meals silent and alone in my study, watching out on chill winds and sudden April snows. Beefy went to Scotland for another desperate and unsuccessful bid to prise loose funds from his granny. On his return I met him at his club. Sitting away in a corner. Suddenly I couldn't hold my sorrow. Pouring from me like a great ghost. And just as Beefy was that crushing day my Tillie was torn away. He put his arm across my shoulders. And walked me home across the park.

  Poor old Boats went back into retirement. When he regained his feet again. And left me his knife sharpener and shoe horns as a gift. Nurse said goodbye in her big hat. Said she would miss all the wine. Nannie sat rigid and correct day in and out. Her narrow compressed lips and bustling starchiness through the house driving me out of my mind. Saved by the laughing and pleasing Alphonsine. Who went happily cleaning and telling me about her Paris boyfriend Jacques. Sometimes she wheeled the little fellow out in his pram. I could go and talk with her when I followed them to the park. And Millicent hearing me come one early evening into my room, stood at the dressing room door.

  "You never take me out anywhere."

  "I'm sorry."

  "I'll bet. Where were you all afternoon. Fll tell you where.

  Talking to Alphonsine in the Dell in the park."

  "I'm sorry but I don't care to get into an argument."

  "I could kill you."

  "Another time perhaps. I want to change."

  "You're going to the ballet again."

  "Yes."

  "What right have you got to tell my mother to stay away from this house."

  "Possibly a legal right. I'm not sure.' "I could kill you."

  "Yes."

  "Why don't you be a man.' "I want to change my clothes please."

  On that occasion Millicent knocked over the furniture in my room. Broke the mirror with an ashtray. And heaved other glass through the air. Until Alphonsine came rushing in to see what the matter was. When a hair brush bounced off the side of my head and I saw stars. A cut across my brow. As Milli-cent charged, her fingers drawn up to scratch my face, and Alphonsine intervened.

  "Madam you must stop, there is blood on Monsieur."

  I sat on a righted chair. Millicent ran from the room. Went down the stairs and slammed out the front door. Alphonsine bathed my eye. And put a bandage neatly there. One further trial of strength was over. With a letter reaching me two days later. From her solicitors. An injunction would be sought restraining me. Not to molest my wife. With another letter a day after from my trustees, enclosing an envelope marked personal and postmarked Belfast.

  The Temple

  London E.C.4

  Dear Mr. B,

  Herewith a letter of which we are in receipt with the request that it be forwarded to you.

  We should be glad if you will attend a meeting, convened by the undersigned trustees, in order that compensation paid to the trustees may be varied with regard to increased expenses now found incurred by the many recent contingencies. Please advise us of a time suitable to you.

  Yours faithfully,

  Bother, Writson, Horn,

  Pleader & Hoot

  Part this other envelope, black ink penned neatly on the cream paper. My hand atremble and my heart thumps hard. To see again this address.

  The Manor

  Co. Fermanagh

  My dear Balthazar,

  I know this letter will find you far away in your own life. And it is with the greatest sorrow that I write. But I feel you would have wanted to know. Elizabeth died the thirty first of March. And was buried here beside her brother and mother.

  It is extremely hard to know how to say something when one learns that out of a desperate love there can come cruel things. It broke my heart to withdraw from my daughter's wedding plans. Elizabeth had an accident taking a hedge with her horse being caught by wire and she was thrown violently hitting her head. I could not face the doctor's verdict. Elizabeth after the accident never fully regained her complete self. But in her limited way she begged me not to say anything in the hope that she would get well. Neither of us could bear the thought that the possibility of marrying did not remain. Her love meant so much to her. And therefore to me. It was the only thing still perfect she had. Now that it is over I somehow feel that it would have been fairer to you had you known. And that I was wrong in a hopeless way. It was a father's love for his only daughter that made me not say for her sake. And I do most hope you will understand. She also asked as a final wish I should send you this enclosed.

  Yours sincerely,

  Raphael Fitzdare

  Inside the pink envelope Balthazar withdrew a sheet of paper with a large lettered scrawl of two words headed, The Manor, Co. Fermanagh.

  Dear Balthazar

  And that night when finally I could sleep I dreamt a dream. I had had so many times before. In the darkness and night wind of that green land. Under the tall trees and waving grasses. Fitzdare sat by moonlight on her little brother's tomb stone in a wedding dress. And I would climb the hill up from the lough and cross to her and try to take up the white splendid vision in my arms. And wake with tears.

  I had breakfast at my desk each morning brought by Alphonsine. Weather wanning across London. The skies clean and blue. And sat with my feet up over the steaming delicious coffee and croissants. Which I covered with blackcurrant jam. Staring out my window over the lilac trees and across the walls at windows where perhaps there move other sad lives. When my private phone rings. The one man who knows its number. Pick up the black handle. And hear Beefy.

  "Dear boy, joy. It is announced. Just as I finally threw in the towel. Put on your hat and coat and rush to the Edge-ware Road. Meet me the north east corner of Praed Street. Sorry to give you such sudden news. You know how one might pick up t
he best newspaper of a morning only to read that the Swedes are legalising incest. But for me I regain my rank. Valued by one's equals and honoured by one's inferiors. Of course I may add I am really a one orgasm man but I do guarantee some tempestuous thrustings in between."

  "What's happened Beefy."

  "It has happened. New shirtings, smoking jackets and kimonos are on the way. The Ritz first stop. The Infanta and I have a little passionate caprice I'd like you to cultivate. Called the regal rapture. Balthazar you will think me entirely without humility. But you know I stand in front of the mirror now and I must say when I look at it, it's fully ready for rosy rogering in deep solitude. Corsica perhaps for the honeymoon."

  "Beefy I can't understand what you're saying."

  "We are marrying, the Violet Infanta and I, today. Awfully rush and much hush hush. You are best man."

  And Balthazar B rushed to change his clothes. Gathering money from the bank. Only thing one has for a present. Put it in a brown bag with two apples they can eat wherever they go. Jump into a taxi heading to the meeting place up this straight grim road. The Violet Infanta in a blue suit and blue hat. Beefy in grey double breasted pin stripe and Trinity Dublin tie. In a panelled room four of us stand before this pleasant smiling man. Who frowned a little and looked up as Beefy convulsively exploded a helpless laughter out his lips. And said as we went to a nearby hotel, I hope no one minded, my laughter was all relief.

  Outside there was a din of pneumatic drills and I bid them goodbye with a wave and kiss from my lips. The dark shadow of Beefy through the opaque taxi window. I shook hands with the Infanta's friend who boarded a bus. People part. One does not want to grow old in misery. Trickle down to death. Carry always with me now. My Fitzdare I married. Long ago in my heart. Her smile and all the rest of her. Walks with me. Told to one's face. By a wife who has trapped you. Because of your money. Stroll along this road through a thronged street. Lady shoppers testing tomatoes on the stalls. Past this female hospital. And over the canal. No taxis anywhere. Just wait and look. Before one goes into the tube. Watch that weary old dog bent up crapping in the gutter between two cars. Poor doggy having such a struggle. Like Beefy he may have piles. But codes as well because he doesn't foul the footpath. Pity there are not more doggies like him. My God he's taken umbrage at my watching.