‘Are you not going to allow me to touch you.’
‘No.’
‘Why.’
‘It is that time of the month when ladies don’t.’
‘But you would otherwise.’
‘Ah, who knows.’
‘Are you no longer in love with me.’
‘Love. My god. Love.’
‘Yes. Love. Or are you now frightened that we may be spied upon.’
‘Love. That is such a silly word.’
‘Why.’
‘Because love is a future and what future is there. For me. For you. Ladies must think always of the future. Her beauty is her future. It is that which makes men want you. When it is gone all is but beautiful memories. You must then have things which replace the attentions of men. It is most important.’
‘Like doing embroidery you mean.’
‘Yes.’
‘You will always be beautiful. My mother was. And I could hire you forever. Then you could go and sit with Edna Annie down in the laundry and do embroidery. It’s warm there mostly.’
‘You want a sock in the jaw.’
‘No please.’
‘Anyway you would not want me around forever, I assure you. As every little lady in the countryside is beaucoup busy counting your acres, your horses and grooms. Even already I notice how they are riding at your back at every hunt. Keeping close and following you like the hounds do the fox. Just waiting for the moment when she can toss her head and attract your eye and procure you.’
‘Your English madam has improved marvellously but procure, I think is hardly the word.’
‘Ah perhaps the word is then conquer, snare, make a grab. Catch you. I practise my English. But two hours every day is not enough. And I will need to be expert to find another job.’
‘Are we now discussing the down to earth probability that you and I shall be departing soon.’
‘I think so, yes. I mean but a day or so ago you were gone.’
‘But I am here. And I may be deeply in love with you.’
‘You would be certain if you were.’
‘Well perhaps I yet will be. When I’ve thought extensively enough about it. But I could be already. Other men are attempting to befriend you I suppose.’
‘Ah of course, there are always men. Who are maybe bored trying putting it up the sheep. There is the Major, the agent, Murphy the farmer. There is hardly a shortage. Even the Mental Marquis.’
‘You are sometimes a little brutally blunt madam. But what did the Marquis do.’
‘O he let me know when he saw my long magnificent legs that how do you say, that he fancies me.’
‘That does not become you to brag like that.’
‘Ah you are angry.’
‘He fancies Baptista.’
‘Dumb minded little bitch.’
‘Well she may be quite stupid in brains but the Marquis it would appear was quite happily content to ravish that part of her body not containing them. The whole of the Moonhound Mad Hatters hunt came upon them in the woods. Stark naked on top of one another.’
‘I do not believe it.’
‘It is absolutely true, ask Sexton.’
‘Ah then who was on top. Baptista or the Marquis.’
‘The Marquis as a matter of fact. And you may think it’s all a joke but there are many witnesses should there be any doubt as to the accuracy of the matter.’
‘How very unsporting. The Marquis crushing such a small girl into the grass. And how indiscreet of the Marquis in front of people. But how typical of the little bitch. To choose to open her legs in such a theatrical place where the hunt would find them. And how very inclement and how very unfastidious to know no better than to be on the wet ground. It serves her right.’
‘And now madam, it is you who is angry.’
‘Certainly not. But the hunting field is not the proper situation for the parting of a lady’s lower limbs other than upon her saddle. And even then it is not preferable for her to be mounted astride.’
‘Do you not agree that their blood, madam, must have been up. Or if they were leisurely doing gates together, I do believe they may have grown rather familiar. And then as often happens in our mild wintry countryside, a lady and gentleman so delegated, are pausing also to build back up walls, with the lady bending over and her behind flattened by tight breeches, does thereby give a gentleman the opportunity to take an unpremeditated fancy and that the parties then promptly, even in the deep mud, disrobe, and there entangled go splashing and sloshing.’
‘Sweet one I do wish the time of the month for me were different and then I would have you do more than to pull my leg.’
‘Madam honestly I do not pull your limb as enchanting as that should be to do. Quite seriously often when one is jumping a wall in chasing a backtracking fox one does find that there, sheltering in the lee of the boulders, there are pumping pairs of nude bottomed hunt members absolutely lust embroiled out of their minds and crazed with a lasciviousness that would be hard to believe.’
‘And how would you Master Kildare, like if I should give you a nice bath before you try to tell me any more tall stories. If you do not mind the little smell the water has of dead mice who rot in the water tank.’
‘Dead mice tend to sweeten the water madam. But do you really mean that madam. You will give me a bath.’
‘Yes I do really mean that. But do not let your eyes pop out.’
‘They are not popping out. But that would be most cordially splendid of you. And I do really most marvellously appreciate your so beautifully refurbishing my suit. You are, aren’t you, a really clever lady. You really are.’
‘Well really. Then you really come. And really flattery will get you far. And really right into the bath which really I shall as you say really draw for you. Which really stinks of dead mice.’
‘You mustn’t madam. I can’t help it if I really get excited.’
‘But ah I really like it when you do. I really do.’
‘And I shall never say that word again.’
‘Unless of course you are. Really excited.’
Darcy Dancer in his mother’s racing colours. Behind this bathroom door firmly locked. Candles burning in the chill steam rising from the copper. Disrobing before Miss von B. Was throbbingly thrilling. It really was. To have one’s penis stand up towards the ceiling pointing at her belt buckle. It felt distinctly ticklish, for want of a better word to use. And I do believe Miss von B was casting brief admiring looks at it. As I made it twitch up and down. She seemed to take such instant open hearted interest in such things. As often she would remark quite casually upon the enormity of Thunder and Lightning’s engorged penis when we had occasion to be together near that now sadly departed stallion. Who got an erection immediately any lady came within sniffing distance. Madam also had a certain fearlessness which was devilishly attractive. That she might do whatever I might saucily off the top of my head suggest to her.
‘Would you grab it madam. Please.’
‘Ah you are always so in readiness with that, are you not.’
‘It is I think merely the gush of blood to that part due to the bathroom chill.’
‘It is just as I say, your randiness. And you are twitching it.’
‘But your merely taking hold of it might calm it down.’
‘You devil.’
Although my penis kept mightily rigid I pretended that one was not in the least excited. After all one had posed this way for artists. But I was most embarrassed just as I, while lifting my leg to climb into the bath, without warning, hopelessly unintentionally but loudly and at length, farted. One bang followed about four others. And in utter anguished mortification I lowered myself to nearly drowning in the water and watched as she sniffed and then brought her finger pinching both her nostrils closed.
‘Peewewew.’
‘I do, my god, madam apologize. Honestly. I really do. It just came out.’
‘Ah but I really think at least you did it with a certain aristo
cratic charm. That is what matters my darling. My Darcy. My Dancer. It was just perhaps a trifle too big a bang for it to be royal but it was aristocratic enough.’
‘I do thank you for letting me off so easily. You could have pretended to be quite offended and I wouldn’t have in the least blamed you.’
‘Such things my dear darling are the real music of love. And often such tunes play long after the kisses have stopped.’
‘My goodness that is madam an awfully nice turn of phrase. You really are a one. Aren’t you. O dear that word again.’
Miss von B had with her a most elegant pedicure outfit in a black crocodile case, vaguely resembling one belonging to my mother. Pearl handled silver little instruments. Each with a coronet on the handle. Which did appear to be that of a Duke. But one has had enough of that thorny subject and that’s when I think I expanded my chest in order to present a muscular image to her which exertion put pressure on my belly and made me break wind. Serves me jolly right for showing off. I should have been enough content to enthrall Miss von B with my elevated penis. As the tip top of it was now doing as a periscope, lying back in these hot waters. Miss von B leaning over me smiling. Taking each of my hands in hers and with my wrist over the edge of the bath resting on a towel as she clipped my nails one by one. Pushing back the skin to show, she said, a little bit of moon. Then filing each gently round. Such divine deliciousness of the pressure of her fingertips on mine. Then taking each foot up over the side of the bath. And from each toe the nail was trimmed. She had rather to struggle a bit to cut my main ones.
‘Like elephant tusk these are.’
‘But that’s what we Irish use to dig our potatoes with.’
Miss von B flicked bath water in my face and then frowned and made a mock funny expression with her mouth. It was quite damn easy to keep her amused in fact. And the muscles flexed along her forearm and the white neat scar there. She’s so absolutely right. They were indeed rather long and thick. Resting my head back against the soft slipperiness of the copper I could see Miss von B was really putting her all into pressing together the scissor handles. And when she leaned back on her heels to take a much needed rest she was more than somewhat impressed with the Thormond coat of arms emblazoned on the bath. At least it was a little evidence of our ancestral haughtiness that one must not lightly overlook. One did not want to resurrect our social fencing match but I thought it was as well that it was made known especially in view of her coronet on her pedicure instruments.
‘Ah I shall agree my sweet fellow it is quite haughty. And of course it has the simplicity of those escutcheons which carry the most ancient distinctions.’
Quite obviously one must accept that one is the product of one’s antecedents and Miss von B had previously rather made one feel rather socially less esteemed. So her observation certainly made me feel much much better. Although good god, with one so lazily warm in the bath, I was feeling so damn good anyway. Recovered from death. Clonking the gunman and nearly committing my first murder. A temporary horse thief and highwayman. But then one must suppose that everyone really is trying to knock or demean you somehow. And whatever it is one may profess to be. How pleasant for a change, to have a little social flattery. So many have so little of anything. Like poor Lois. All she wanted she said, was someone to love and love her. And good lord, it seems that simply everyone is running around looking for that. Makes for such a ruddy mêlée. With people bumping indiscreetly into each other all over the place.
‘And now shall we wash your hair.’
‘Yes please, indeed do.’
‘And we hope we shall not get too much of Edna Annie’s strong soap in your eyes.’
‘Madam when you were in Dublin, what was your life like.’
‘It was work. It was sometimes funny, sometimes sad and sometimes highly irritating. Now just put back your head.’
‘When was it irritating.’
‘When these women come in for their hats who think they are the cat’s whiskers. Now close your eyes.’
‘Surely that must have been unpleasant, having social inferiors in a position to command you about.’
‘O perhaps. How is one to mind about such things. If you want their money, then you must give them what they want. And you cannot then pretend to be better than them.’
‘And did you have gentlemen friends.’
‘Ah but that is none of your business. Back again with your pretty head please.’
‘I am merely inquiring about your life. In which, if you don’t mind my saying, it is not in the least unusual, considering our relationship, that I should take an interest.’
‘Ah well then. My life. I shall speak of. But not the gentlemen in it. For there is a rule which women are unwise to break. And that is to talk of men to other men. There were of course parties. Every night. They bring back drink from the pub. Everyone becoming drunk. So boring. They sing, then they argue. Then they fight. Then they wash off the blood, shake hands. And drink again. And then fight. Night after night it is like that.’
‘Dear me.’
‘The next afternoon they meet in the pub to talk of the night before. Of how much they drink, about who was fighting, about how many teeth knocked out or fingers broken. It is like a race they are in. Who has drunk the most. Who slaps his wife the hardest. It is like a club. Which the members have joined so that they all go to hell together. They are all so proud of the hangover they say that morning they wake up with. Like it was a halo. How they give their wife a fist in the gob. Or they say a boot in the hole if she protest that they broke down the front door to get in the house. So many such simple sad little people. Who read the gas meter. Who own a shop. Who have maybe some business. Or uncle who leave them money. And there is a crazy lady artist always inviting them to her studio to paint their privates.’
‘Are these people not what one calls Bohemians.’
‘Bohemians. Ha ha. They say they are poets when they are pigs. Pee everywhere and shit anywhere. They are imbeciles. They say they write books. When they only sharpen pencils and pull corks out of bottles of stout. Their moments of glory are when they can find someone they can insult.’
‘You do madam, don’t you, rather paint an unpretty picture.’
‘Well perhaps it might only have been like that on Saturdays, Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays.’
‘What about Thursday.’
‘They sleep that day.’
Miss von B rinsing Darcy Dancer’s hair. Pouring glasses of mouse tainted chilly water out of the tap. Sweeping back the wet locks from my forehead. Kissing me moistly on the brow. And just staring down at me peeping up out of the bath. I did not let her kiss me on the mouth for fear of my disease and she kissed me on the neck shoulders and bosoms. Then soaped me all over with Edna Annie’s nearly dissolved big bar of yellow soap. That that ancient lady made every month down in her laundry. Who was now said to be beyond a century in age but could still see a wren at a hundred yards or hear a pin drop at fifty.
‘Now my darling. Keep your head up out of the water.’
‘Madam, I do hope you never grow old.’
‘Ah but I shall. Isn’t it sad.’
‘Yes.’
Miss von B’s hand pushed up over me. Making big hills of suds on the water. As I arched up my back for her to make suds all over my privates as she whispered.
‘Ah my darling my past might be unhappy but this, this is all so very exciting.’
Her hand pressed over my mouth when my moaning suddenly turned to screaming. In what must have been a death defying tumult, furore, fuss bother and frenzy of a thunderstorm of the emotions as I writhed in certain ecstasy. Nearly I do believe flapping like a fish out of water. Clearly Miss von B was a past master at this kind of pleasure giving. But I did not want to sound too desperately thankful, feeling as I was rather like a libertine in my licentious life. But my god it did feel so awfully utterly good.
‘Ah my little one it is like a gushing fountain.’
r /> And the warm waters. Her soft soothing touches of fingers and hands. The smooth wondrous skin of her throat. The velvet pink lips parting across her teeth as she smiled. And the tiniest of golden little hairs on her flesh. Who could care a tinker’s curse about the low morality rampant across Ireland. Or of Lois painting privates. Or of hunt members taking each other by the ears or arse and entangling goodo upon the grass all over the ruddy countryside. Where one in spite of sighting the fox, was quite liable to be compelled at almost any time to rein up and shout, hark, what new wantonness do I perceive with rear cheeks naked in yonder copse. To make the innocent stars dance in consternation.
And the
Fox
Run
In shame
17
Stars afloat in the deep black sky. The night grown cold. From bathroom to bedroom shivering we went. Over the rattling floorboards. Miss von B drying, powdering and pampering me and now tucking me up in bed as I grabbed, felt and squeezed her in a playful manner.
‘There you are now like a good boy. My special, my most dear little bog trotter, as you say.’
‘Madam, when you call me such things there is nothing about you that I can love. I am at least as much of an aristocrat as you are. Because I don’t believe you enjoy any distinctions to which I may not be entitled myself.’
‘O my goodness we are again once more back on this battleground.’
‘Only because of your slightingly unnecessary reference to me. Anyway, I don’t care about the chimneytop of Andromeda Park not touching your uncle’s chandeliers. I am equally as aristocratic as any.’
‘Ah my sweet, my potato digger. Do you even know what an aristocrat is.’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Well then what is an aristocrat.’
‘An aristocrat is one who drinks wine with dinner in a large dining room and is served by a butler and who plays billiards and into whose windows others not so distinguished want to look and see how they live.’