The Ginger Man

  Dangerfield snapping his fingers, O'Keefe twisting his glass round and round on the table.

  "Don't let it get you down, Kenneth."

  "I've never felt so damn screwed in all my life. I've now commenced my last twenty four hours in the ould sod. When I went back to the Catacombs they were all congratulating me. Can you imagine that?"

  "I think it's possible."

  "Tony can't seem to understand."

  "Perhaps he's thinking about the food you'll be eating over there."

  "I'll say one thing for him. He's generous. That's one thing about the Malarkey household. Nothing's too good when you come to visit. Go in there to that cellar and they haven't got a penny but everything is neat and clean and when they invite you to eat something, even though it's potato cakes, heavy as lead, you feel you're getting a meal. As tough as this country is I hate to leave it but if I don't I'll die."

  "It's a pity about Percy. He could have fixed you up in the Iveagh House."

  "It's all over now anyway, and what are you going to do?"

  "Kenneth, the mail boat, Friday night."

  "I don't get it. Your affairs are so fouled up that I don't think you know what you're doing. What are you going to do in London?"

  "Rest from the eyes. Ever notice the eyes along the street Ever notice them? Looking for something. And in this fine cultured city it's me. Marion's in Scotland with baba. O having a fine time, great girl is Marion. Of course I'll have a chance to get down to my studies and perhaps a little ballet in the evenings."

  "On what?"

  "Kenneth, do you know I think you have the arse of a servant"

  "Have I now. Do you know there's something just a little fishy about this business. I was talking over your affairs with Malarkey and he says that rumor has it that you're taking off and that Marion's left you, and that there's a little irregularity and carnal knowledge going on in the Geary. Also that you're socked in with a woman in Rathmines who works in the laundry in Blackrock and another one in Cabra. As Tony says it's just gossip but isn't it always true?"

  "I can see your faith is so strong in Malarkey there's no point in saying anything. But I would like to point out that my life is an open book. Yes, open book."

  "Dangerfield, you're not fooling me. I leave this setup tomorrow so it doesn't make a bit of difference how you screw yourself up but let me tell you one thing. Women, drink and the general chaos will ruin you and this crazy dancing in the street. I think you'll end up in the Gorman"

  "Have it your own way, Kenneth."

  Two glasses were placed on the table by a smiling waitress.

  "Your brandy, sir."

  Dangerfield with a twitch,

  "Ah."

  O'Keefe with a sigh.

  "How much, how much ? "

  Waitress bowing concernedly.

  "That's seven shillings please, sir."

  O'Keefe with sadness.

  "And here's a shilling from a poor man because I'm leaving Ireland and won't need it anymore."

  Smiling a blossom of blush.

  "Thank you, sir, very much. I'm sorry you're leaving Ireland."

  O'Keefe looking at her.

  "What do you mean sorry? You don't even know me."

  Waitress intently.

  "O yes I do. You used to be in here a lot last year. We all remember you. You didn't have a beard then. I think it suits you"

  O'Keefe astonished, leaned back in the creaking wicker chair. He smiled.

  "Do you know I really appreciate that Thanks"

  The waitress reddening, walking away.

  "God damn it, Dangerfield. I'm a hard son of a bitch but do you know I think I'd get down on my hands and knees and kiss a Jesuit's arse if it meant I could stay"

  "I'll take up the collection if you do"

  "Jesus, people are interested in you here"

  "Foreigners"

  "Even so, they shit on them in U.S. This morning I got up early and walked down Fitzwilliam Street. It was still dark. I heard a clip clop coming along and the milkman singing. It was lovely. Jesus, I don't want to go back."

  "In the land of the big rich. The monstrous rich. Over there the quids."

  "I feel every minute spent in U.S. is wasted."

  "Now, now, a fine great place of opportunity for the young spirit such as yours, Kenneth. Maybe a bit of that unhappiness and people whoops out of the windows. But there are the odd moments of joy. May even solve your problem."

  "If I can't solve it here I'll never do it there."

  "How will you bear it being waved in your face. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say bodies over there are beautiful"

  "I can wait."

  "And how's Tony?"

  "Makes his kids toys all day. Gets up in the morning and yells for his tea. Then he goes out and sees his accountant and places a shilling bet. Then he gets keyed up till the horse loses. And then, as he says himself, when the horse loses I go home and pick an argument with Clocklan. When I was there I tried to get Tony interested in taking the North by force. And Tony was telling me about a time when they went over the border. Everyone going to shoot a policeman, couldn't hold them back, going to declare the North under the tricolor. They get over the border, pockets filled with homemade bombs, hand grenades and gelignite. Then they meet a policeman. There are forty of them and one policeman and he comes over and says, 'ere, 'ere, this 'ere is King's land, now behave yourselves or I'll have to lock the whole lot of ye up. They all get long faces, roll up the tricolor, put away the bombs and go into the first pub and get drunk, with the policeman with them as well. It was good. Do you know I don't think they ever want to take the North. Barney says they're the finest people on the earth. Do you know perhaps the North ought to take over the South."

  "At least we'd have contraceptives then, Kenneth"

  "What about these women of yours when you go to London?"

  "Do you think I keep a harem, Kenneth? I lead a life of spartan self-denial. Miss Frost is one of the finest people I know, good Catholic and in every way leads a gainful respectable life."

  "Malarkey says the neighbourhood is in disgrace over this affair."

  "Miss Frost and I would never stoop. Or set upon one another lasciviously. Within the bounds of good taste and dignity. Furthermore I'd like to point out that Miss Frost is joining the nuns."

  "You awful bastard."

  "Have you ever known me to involve myself in anything not above board or on boards or anything? I say, out with it, O'Keefe. Geek. You're so starved for it, Kenneth, that you're imagining things. You think I sin. Not me."

  "You're socked in there like a banana in the peel. Tony says that you give her so much that she can barely crawl to work in the mornings."

  "Absolutely outrageous. Miss Frost tiptoes through the tulips."

  "You think you're getting away with a lot It's drink"

  "And sure it's only the sociability that makes me drink."

  "Do you know what my ambition is when I get money? To move into the Shelbourne Hotel Strut in through the front door and tell the porter would you garage my Daimler for me please"

  "No, Kenneth. Would you garage my car"

  "Jesus you're right That's it. My car. Would you garage my car. And into the Shelbourne rooms. They say it's the most beautiful bar in the world. Have Malarkey come and meet me. How do you do, Tony, how are things in the Catacombs?"

  "Yes, Kenneth, you have the arse of a servant"

  "You mean for riding. Built for a horse. Do you know that if it weren't for the British this place would be so many wild savages."

  "I'm glad you've come to see it that way."

  "The Irish feel that children are brought down upon them by the wrath of God for screwing. All you hear is that if it weren't for you kids life would be rosy and we could have a good time. But we worked and slaved ourselves to the bone to give you a little more than we had and now look at you, won't bring a penny into the house. No-good loafer wasting your time with these books when there a
re good jobs on the railroad."

  "Geek."

  In the eight o'clock sound and smell of Jury's lounge, they sat with stretched legs and toes twitching in their shoes, thawing damp bones in the centrally heated air. Priests scattered through the room, red faced, watery eyed and smoldering. Immaculate collars choking their scarlet necks, clerics in pain. With waitresses, young, black and round. Potted palms. It was not what was inside but what was outside that made what was inside so good and desirable. Because outside there is the gray wet over everything. And it came up through the shoes, soaking socks and squealing between the toes. Near here is the Bank of Ireland. So great and round and granite. Outside it a whore and a beggar.

  "Well Kenneth it is fitting indeed that we should have the comfort of this fine room for our last day"

  "That waitress, did you notice her teeth? They were white."

  "Her eyes very fine too."

  "Why can't I feel I could ever marry one of these girls?"

  "Nothing more fashionable these days than to marry down, Kenneth."

  "Be marrying one of my own, that's the trouble."

  "I like your blood, darling."

  "Yeah. My whole sexual life depends on the nuances of wealth. Come back from a good hard ride around the edges of the estate looking for poachers."

  O'Keefe leaning back in this sudden glory, continuing with mellow aplomb.

  "I pass the scullery out back and call, I say, Tessie, what's for dinner and Tessie scurries into the cook. Lady O'Keefe has already told me what's for dinner but in my little democratic way I have a banter with the scullery maids. Lady O'Keefe at one end of the table and I'm at the other and we discuss the estate and horses. I ask her what she did at the flower show and if any of our blossoms took a prize. After dinner to the library for expresso with a twist of lemon and a bottle of Hennessy. She reads me a play till ten. Goes; up to her room. I wait in the library for about ten minutes and go up to my own. I notice that the door between our rooms is slightly ajar. I wait a discreet ten minutes, tiptoe over, give a delicate knock, may I come in dear? Yes dear, do. Ha."

  "Eeeeeee. Kenneth, if you're ever rich it will be an anticlimax."

  "By God."

  On O'Keefe's head a brown dirty tweed cap. Women in this lounge looking at the two of them with their legs stretched all over the place. And they were cocking their white ears to hear that bearded man go on about such fantastic things with that awful accent of his and who is that man with his haughty ways and county voice, flicking his fingers exquisitely and rolling his head back to belch laughter. So sure of themselves.

  And between priests and pouting matrons were business men from Manchester who made furniture to sell to the civil servants for the sitting room and they were a little red faced, with a touch of proud overtone in their voices. They wore striped blue shirts with white stiff collars and their gent's natty suiting with white pin stripe and short coats where underneath it all were braces, red, blue, green and overlaps of wool and buttons here behind and everywhere. And men from Bradford and Leeds looking out of conservative corners of eyes. I know you are rich, in silk underwear and have finished a fine cut of meat with a small mountain of mushrooms, carrots, peas and other things.

  Kenneth O'Keefe told the waitress he wanted coffee. He looked around the room to see who was watching or listening. Bent his head forward, removed his cap and scratched the back of his light brown head. Dangerfield semi-supine, his chin resting on his chest looking out broodingly at O'Keefe.

  "This is our last night audience, Kenneth"

  "Yup."

  "After this the curtain comes down."

  The business men from Bradford and Leeds who live between the brownstone buildings in sunless smoky streets, feeling and pricing cloth with darting eyes, spending long afternoons over tea and fittings for suits, with winter fogs outside their dark stone mansions. These men lean back in their chairs, pulling from their pockets silk, feathery handkerchiefs, and removing their glasses, pass the fine cloth sensuously back and forth, round and round, hard and then very softly touching the exquisite glass, holding them to the light and with rare, long fingers put them back over their eyes. In the throes of prices and bottoms dropping out of the market they are smiling, thinly but smiling, the richest men in the world.

  "Kenneth, I'll walk as far as the quays with you."

  "Suits me."

  Kenneth O'Keefe gave a last smile to his charming waitress. They finished their coffee and stood up. The lights in the room grew brighter. Everyone stopped talking. In the silence, the two walked across the lounge. Waitresses in their black garb stood along the wall by the serving hatch. One of them nipping her head smartly in the hole and said they were going. Three more faces appeared with sparkling eyes. As they neared the door all faces were on them. All on their feet clapping. Shouting out of their mouths bravo. The lights brighter and clapping swarming up from their hands louder. The gentlemen from Bradford and Leeds cornering silk handkerchiefs in the tears in their eyes, twisting with an index finger, then blinking and watching. The priests up at last. I know they think us glorious. And uproarious. Our backs go out the swing door, pass into this street, narrows of warehouses and brokerages by day filled with the making of money and a deserted lane by night

  "When you come back, Kenneth, I'll walk naked wearing a green bowler to greet you at the boat. With a donkey cart flying green streamers and shamrocks imported from Czechoslovakia and a band of girl pipers blowing like mad. Did you know that they imported the English Sparrow into America to eat the horseshit off the streets ? "

  "No."

  "Look into it. Got to fight, Kenneth. Must resist or go down in the pile. And perhaps there'll be a little richness for one of us soon. And when you're out there on that high sea I want you to remember to pray. Because I'll be in that city of London and London is groaning with lust. What do you think of that?"

  "Nothing. I hate the place. One look out of Victoria Station was enough for me. What the hell, maybe you'll make out."

  "Must fight. There are books, Kenneth, that tell us that we must. And also about the animals who gave up the ghost 246 No fight They put a little word at the bottom of the page to tell you something. Extinct. To be avoided"

  "Here's where I leave you"

  "Well, Kenneth, it's ironic Taking leave of you in the North of Dublin. Never thought this would ever happen to us"

  "Give my regards to Tony and everyone. Although I think it unlikely, I hope to see you on your arse in the Old Bailey"

  "Count on it Kenneth"

  "Good luck"

  "Take care"

  O'Keefe sauntered sadly off and disappeared down this gray dark street called Seville Place. Dangerfield walked back across Butt Bridge, a finely divided rain falling. My body has blue joints. Ireland is heaven bound with this low weather. Rub my knuckles because this climate is only for brains. Cranes and masts down the river. On Aston Quay the last buses leaving for the country. And clusters of men hunched in black overcoats sucking cigarettes, spitting and mean. With tongues of shoes hanging out like dogs' hungry mouths. I'd give anything for a drink now. Wearing this rag of despair and sorrow. Full of holes and dirty. Across my shoulders wet and cold. They say nothing lasts. It's all gray. Gray for what? Gray for rain. And pink for poodles. Colors for everything. They say, green for work. Now what is it? For Idleness? I think the black. You there below decks, run up me little black ensign. Well? For lust. What are they going to say? Red? No. Not red. I think the brown. Brown for lust Red is for money and blue for deads.

  Take deads

  Away.

  Play music

  Please.

  22

  Miss Frost was lying upon her back, her head supported by two nice white pillows. There was a grayness under her eyes. Near to tears. Her hand divided over the back of her book, holding it face down on the covers. Mr. Dangerfield, arbiter of wisdom, stood erect at the bottom of her bed, concerned and loving. Looking at her eyes as they flashed sorrow and asked
him to come to her for now. And they were in their little room together shut off from the rest of the house and world out there ready to axe them. How to get out of it And Dangerfield. And Miss Frost.

  "I am going to call you Lilly"

  A shy smile tightened upon her lips, her eyes turning away and back and tight lips and the edge of her teeth coming to nip her mouth and her face up to face his.

  "O."

  "I think it's time I called you Lilly. Lilly"

  "O well."

  "Lilly"

  "Dear me"

  "Are there eats, Lilly?"

  "Just some bacon and tea but take that ten shilling note, Mr. Dangerfield, and get some eggs."

  "No. I couldn't."

  "Do. Please. I insist"

  Dangerfield to the dresser. Slipping the note in a pocket

  "Won't be a minute."

  Yet I stoop to menial things. But there just hasn't been enough money. However, in the flux. Keep one's eyes wide and never know when or what might come up. Live off the environment Take fruit from my trees. Fine shirts from counters and charge them. Ton of turf from my fuel merchant and bill me later. Take one large turkey, rat trap and rare cheese, pound of Robert's best coffee and bit of salami, oh and a quick quart of sauerkraut and would you mind frightfully putting it on my account Air filled with certainly sir. O it was good. Creamery butter? How many pounds sir? I think the three. Rashers? A nice bit of back please. A ton if you will. Picture me walking up Grafton Street. I am passing Mitchell's Cafe and the doorway where I have always looked carefully to see aristocratic faces poised out of necks of flowery, sweet-smelling dresses and looked at their noses and rather lovely nostrils, racehorses for sure and eyes sparking with vitamins always hoping one would smile at me. And one speaks. O Sebastian wherever have you been? What? Not really. You mean you're hungry. Ghastly. O you're joking. Shocking. But do come and have tea with me. Of course I'm paying. Whatever are you wearing? That thing. Yes, that thing. My God, it's a blanket. Rakish. Only thing I can think of. Frightfully LA.F. I mean it's sort of R.A.F. sort of thing. I.A.F. ? Irish Air Force, of course, stupid. Do come and have tea. O no, wear it I like it Suits you. Frightfully exciting. You do some rather weird things, everyone says so. And there I am with this girl, by the window upstairs. She's paying. Me under my brown blanket Brown for lust. Eating my cake she bought for me. Eat one. Steal two. Eat one. Steal another. After tea. I go to the lavatory and flush my blanket in the toilet I take a cardboard sign and fashion it in a stiff collar. Use my black shoelace. Black for private means. I return wearing this and nothing else. You might say making an obvious gesture of indecency. But fed.