‘Just a little pain behind my eyes.’
‘We’ll attend to that. Here now, let me put this wet cloth to you.’
Charlene putting a compress on Clementine’s forehead. Smell the moist thick wool of her skirt. Hear a clatter of wheels out over the countryside. One lies still with the lids down to receive this tender attention. Far off tomorrows. Please come. Without servants drowning. Our guests whipping out their tools. Haven’t the fortitude to go back down there and tell this lady there’s no sign of Percival never mind petrol. One’s head about to explode. Must stop myself sliding into decline. Already stretched out on a bed. Always a bad moment. When the first compresses get put to the brow. Just what I did in auntie’s house, the pale light out those three windows overlooking the street. The squeal of the post box on the telephone pole at night when someone mailed a letter. Sending hello through midnight hands, stamped and sealed, tucked in cubby holes, sliding down chutes, speeding over land. Please do not bend. A loving thought is inside.
‘Charlene does Percival have next of kin.’
‘Not a soul sir as far as I know is belonging to him.’
‘If we find his body there will have to be a funeral.’
‘No problem. Sean the blacksmith in the town will knock up a box. Sure you have your own cemetery out there ready for him. Wash him down with a few bottles of whiskey. There’s an awful chill here now. I’ll light up these few pieces of turf and put some warmth into things. Sir, it’s the bell in the courtyard someone must be at the front door, shall I see to it.’
‘Please.’
To stare up at the ceiling where a black beetle crawls. Could feel Charlene’s breath on my face, sweet and warm. Read in an etiquette book that cohabitation with servants breeds insolence leading to the eating of the master’s smoked salmon and the liberal downing of his potables. And even to shot gun blasts. Dare the squire wet his wick where masters should fear to dip. Wanted to reach up and drag Charlene down. I am enamoured of your eyes. Globes of one sort leading to globes of another. Arse white as the cheeks of her face. Like two lamps lit outside auntie’s house. The bugs bombarded all night. When terror went crouching through the streets. Citizens shot dead on lawns for wallets. And when I could walk faster after I was cured I packed the gladstone bags. Booked on a steamship line and took the train to the coast. Nearly ran on the thick echoing boards down the pier shed. Auntie for six months of every year for five years lived on a ship. Said she liked the routine. Man in a little green kiosk stamped my passport. Seagulls wheeling and screeching overhead. Sailors lifting hawsers off capstans. Ship gave a whistle blast. Auntie said it’s the kind of world which will suit you over there. Give you something to fight for. Keep up your standards. They were serving tea in the garden verandah on D deck, all second class passengers welcome. An ancient ship with narrow bows. I sat alone at a table. Saw a girl with blond curly hair and powdery blue eyes who smiled. I thought my God this is going to be swell. And never saw her again. She lay deathly sea sick down in the bowels of the ship the whole voyage. Three hours out we were hit by a hurricane. The seas rose up black watery moutains in the darkness. The stern where I clutched looking out through the lashing spray went up and down like an elevator. Giant propellers rising from the water, shaking and trembling the vessel. I stood bundled in my racoon skin coat. Death finished stalking me on land. Now dancing with it up and down the ocean waves. Two potted palms stood either side of the restaurant entrance. A sandy haired gentleman sat across from me at my table, seating fourteen. Passengers one by one making runs for the nearest bucket. One little boy heaving right out on the table. Twelve bewildered ashen green faces hurrying away. Leaving this man and myself. He had an appetite. Polished off twelve plates of smoked salmon. Giving me a shy smile and bow of the head as he swept another helping on his plate. I wrote him a short note explaining that I had temporarily lost my voice. He again nodded and smiled. Asked if I played chess. He was an impetuous player, overflowing with confidence. Slowly with a positioning of knights and bishops I annihilated him. Prior to some final moments in these blood baths he would leap to his feet and pace the decks outside to revive his strategy with fresh sea air. His aggressiveness in early moves always decided me to not let him win. The few passengers who could still walk on the tilting ship crowded round. Amateur chess masters gave him advice from an elbow. Still the slaughter continued. Still he rose and raced to the fresh air outside, slapping his cheeks and shaking his head. To return and with grimaces preceded by indulgent smiles he’d move his queen into the attack. Caboom. My knight merrily shoved a spear right up the personal interior of his bishop. And his fists would clench and whiten. At one moment I thought he was going to reach across and take my silent neck into his hands and prevent me from ever taking up residence in auntie’s castle. Instead he leaped to his feet and gavotted in silent hysterics across the room. Later in the second class lounge up by the ship’s smokestacks he became a sympathetic companion happily quaffing pints of bitter beer. He said he had tried his luck in the new world and been bested. Wore his shoes out looking for work. Stuffed newspapers to stop the soles of his feet from burning on the hot pavements. He said everyone aboard the ship had been bested by the new world. And were now being thrown deathly ill to the decks vomiting. Half the crew were out of action. And the captain put into port. While we waited below a town once levelled by an explosion. A fort up on a hill overlooking the harbour. I went ashore with this gentleman. In an old wooden church we attended Sunday services. He borrowed a coin from me to put in the passing collection tray. Some strange sadness took me and I felt tears running down my face. World so lonely. Voices in song. Raised in thanksgiving. Off key I croaked out a note or two. In transit between lands. Tiptoeing between the gouging‚ testicle kicking greed. Had I but just a house and lawn. Sit in during the snowy winters. Lie out in a hammock by summers. But when I came out of the navy the dirty bastards said they had an opening in the stock exchange. Running messages. And something in my father came out in me. I stood up from my seat at the interview and said come on you god damn pen pusher put up your dukes. Mr Clementine he said, are you out of your senses. He wore glasses, his hair cut short and sticking up all over his head. He was no shoulders and all hips. I felt sure violence would upset him. He said it is quite clear from our interview that you are unsuitable for the position. That summer I spent at the beach. Sifting the sand through my toes. Clocking in at an hotel along the shore. To drink tinkling glasses amid dreams of how the world should always be. Told in words brave. Agreed with nods solemn. And fairness for patrons of this bar above all. Not a bad guy here. The piano player is really president of a big corporation. What can you do but just play along. With the graft. Down down the steps to the lonely boarding house room. But hope to die first at a cotillion in the last second of a treasured moment caught at the end of an elegant woman’s voice, isn’t he, that man, the masterful one, isn’t he the cat’s whiskers. Madam not only that but I have three balls to chime. Should you like. To hear bells. Or just feel. Balls.
‘Sir it’s a four in hand to take you to Mr and Lady Macfuggers’.’
‘Thank you, Charlene.’
The lady out of petrol standing in the great hall at the edge of Franz’s excavation in the corner. Turns with a girlish twirl at the sound of my footsteps. Charlene kept her eyes averted and retreated to the antchamber as I dressed. Pumped galloping flames into the fire with a long handled bellows. Steamed my socks with the heat. Cooled again when put over my ice cold feet. A little elegance upon the person buoys the spirit. Needed to face the lady out of petrol. Last confronted across the pale pole of Erconwald.
‘I’m awfully sorry but my man Percival is missing. We fear the worst.’
‘O that’s quite all right. As a matter of fact it is rather a strange coincidence. I understand you are on your way to the Macfuggers. Actually it’s precisely where I was going. And if you wouldn’t mind, perhaps I could come along and pick up my car later. My name’s Veronica as a matt
er of fact.’
Two coachmen in shiny black top hats and green coats. Gleaming windows of the carriage. Clementine climbing aboard after this woman who had a rather musky smell The darkening day and Rose standing glaring from a parapet. Poor Elmer downcast as I closed the door against his big black nose. Pall of doom. Percival gone.
‘As a matter of fact I’m an old friend of the Macfuggers. But apropos of nothing at all do you mind if I ask, who are you.’
‘Me red skin.’
‘What.’
‘Me from tribe.’
‘I don’t think I follow you.’
‘Me brave.’
‘Are you having me on. Good lord this contraption is rather uncomfortable. Driver, you out there, do please be more careful.’
‘Yes madam.’
‘They are the limit you know, these natives. Impossible to impart manners to. Several louts standing about in a village refused to push my car to get it started. Of course I do enjoy it when I see them pounding each other’s faces in the pubs. At least they keep each other down. Sexually of course they are extremely interesting. I quite like the ring of sun around farm labourers’ necks. It does more for me than I can say. But you appear to be inclined towards having your little games with male companions. As a matter of fact our brief encounter today is the very type of thing I most fancy, I hope I don’t embarrass you, but that’s an awfully cute penis on your friend. I wanted to photograph it for my album. He was so pleased. Said he has a laboratory back in town with details concerning a gentleman’s organ quite outsize. One always hears of these men but never meets them. Why don’t they come knocking on my door. I’m divorced from my first husband. He was in the Colonial Service. We often went on elephants up into the hills. What whoppers they’ve got. But they’re a far more comfortable journey than this.’
Mountains rising up purple in the evening sky. Clouds pressing darkly from the sea. Horses’ hooves clattering on the stony rutted road. Brown bog lands. Heather and gorse. Tiny spots of yellow flowers. Spring lies somewhere. Hiding butterflies who will skip over the countryside. Rain streaks the carriage glass. Breezes blow up through the floor. My chess playing friend aboard the ship had a gallon of wine in his cabin. He often asked who I was. Said he suspected me of being a deposed monarch and that I would not speak again until I got back on my throne. I grew to like him and chalked in his name as victor of the ping pong competition. He won by default as no one could stand up to play. Tug boats guided us through the channel when we set sail out of the port to ride the great swells of the sea. Still lashed by the tail of the hurricane. And down went the passengers into their bunks again.
‘I hope you’ll pardon my saying so, but you are a very presentable young man. I like young men. I’d be less than frank not admitting to nearly getting hysterical with desire back there in your fire department or whatever you call it. I think my body might amaze you. Sorry if I’m being tactless. I’m simply mad about pricks. You rich young men are all alike. I hope you’re not sitting there being smug. While I just go on talking. You’ve hardly said a word. I think you’re awfully pretentious. Me red skin, me from tribe, me brave. How dare you. I’m not attacking you. But I suppose you spend your time with all those lovely young innocent things who’ve never had a cock in their mouths in their lives. Precious little buttercups shepherded by their mothers. How dare you own that marvellous castle. How dare you.’
‘Madam I’ve just got out of hospital. My great aunt gave me the castle to recuperate in. I’m trying to make a new life for myself.’
‘I’m sorry, I had no idea you were an invalid.’
‘I’m not.’
‘I love cats you know. I detest your dog. That great ugly monster.’
‘I don’t mind what you say about me but please don’t insult my dog.’
‘The very wrong people are getting the upper hand these days. I think it’s an affront that you have that castle. When my class are suffering such indignity. Do you know that my ancestors have been officers in the Colonial Service for more than three generations.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t know.’
‘It’s not that I need it known, I’ll have you know.’
Rocking swaying and bouncing, horses churning hooves as the carriage mounts these hills. Galloping around turns, crashing over ruts. By barren bog lands. Sheep running from the path of the rumbling vehicle. Veronica with her legs crossed. A strong pair of hands folded in her lap. A sweet perfume she wears. Offers me the rug to put over my knees. Gold embroidered coat of arms, a boar with a sabre in its mouth. Veronica tucking herself in. The cold gripping tight around one’s bones. Past a broken roofless stone ruin of a cottage. Mounds marking old boundaries on hillsides. Bracken withered. I went to the library and studied books about this land. Flora fauna and climate. The grass full of frogs. Holds the world’s record for loneliness and rainfall. Out there the spirit would dissolve on the wind swept granite. Streams cutting down the hillsides spilling brown water. Fading light. Sea out of sight. Something interfering in the area of my lap. The hand of Veronica. Wonder if my eyeballs are oscillating. Cleverly she has penetrated the fly buttons. The backwards on underwear will bedevil her. Goodness she’s got through it. With the dexterity of a seamstress. Her haughty profile as she looks out her window. Just about old enough to be my mother. Whom she resembles. Somehow folk on this side of the ocean seem not to stand on ceremony. By God her hand is cold.
‘Do you mind awfully. Helps ha ha keep my hand warm. And I’d quite like to get to know you better. You dear boy. You’ve such brazen nerve to fly a flag on top of your castle. How dare you. I think you’re devilishly sweet if you really want to know.’
Heading downwards, horses sliding as they dig in. Sparks from the brakes. Veronica is pulling away on it possessed. Auntie said life over there will give you backbone. When I asked for an increase in my allowance she decreased it. Said strength comes from struggle. Formulate a code to live by. Stand on your principles. They make money. Find a young woman who’s not afraid to get the gloves on her hands dirty with a little gardening. And never marry a woman dear boy who’s not fond of flowers. Even better if you can find one who likes to grow vegetables. You bring the girl to me and then we’ll see about an increased allowance.
Dark shadows of trees sheltering up narrow glens. A high wall. Smell of steaming horses. The carriage turning between two high stone piers topped with bronze falcons’ wings outstretched shining in the moonlight. A candle flickering in the window of the gate lodge. The road descending and bending through a tunnel of rhododendrons. Great boughs twining up into a thatch of leaves. Scent of mouldering wood. Hooves and wheels becoming loud. And fainter across a level road between sloping parkland pastures of grazing beasts. Over a bridge and up again to turn before a sprawling granite mansion.
Lights electric go on. Faintly and slowly growing brighter. Wide stone steps. Four tall pillars. Nails Macfugger evening clothed grinning legs astride. And coming down the steps. Hand held out. Coachman opening door.
‘Veronica dear girl. Began to wonder what happened to you. Ah. By God. There you are Clementine. Damn good of you to come. You two not up to any tricks together. Veronica old girl can take it like a trooper in any damn orifice you care to elect or if you fancy, all of them at once and still hum the west’s awake. We’ll have a disgustingly filthy night of it. Come on in. I say Gail, they’ve arrived together. And give the men some beer.’
Into a long hall flanked by two roaring fires. Stand full of bull whips on the black and white tiles. Lady Macfugger embracing Veronica. A kiss lingering between their lips.
‘Stop that this instant in my house you god damn lesbians.’
‘Jeffrey shut up we were only kissing.’
‘I damn well know what you were doing. Won’t have any flagrancy in my front hall. This is no bawdy house. Now I’ll tell you Clementine, you know how Ballsbridge came to be a name. Giant built a bridge who did not want to get his testicles wet crossing the canal. Maybe that??
?s not damn funny but by God it made me laugh. Now is everybody ready for sherry. Knock the chill for six.’
‘Veronica would like to change, Jeffrey.’
‘Take it off, that’s a change.’
‘Please Jeffrey.’
‘You know Clementine I got back here today. I say to the Mrs let’s rip off a piece, I had her by a haunch and she was up there clinging to the banister and she says why don’t you take your dirty wants to whores once in a while. Come on we’ll go in here while they powder their arses.’
Large white kid skin sofas. Stuffed with swan’s down. A room of glass cabinets filled with china. White thick rugs on gleaming mahogany floors. Heaped turf fire glowing and a scented sweet air of smoke. Faces round the walls, some chubby cheeked and fair like Macfugger. Others of thin faced women.
‘Ah you see the ancestors do you. Interesting lot. All the damn Macfugger men fat faced fortune hunters. And there they are, the victims. One narrow arsed bitch after another. By God if I don’t think I’m carrying on the tradition. Had a cable just as we got back today. Ruddy aunt of Gail’s dropped us sixty thousand right out of the sky just as God was lifting her into heaven. Smack into my lap dear boy. Doesn’t half give one hope for the future. Man must have a pot to piss in, be it ever so humble as imitation jade. Now tell me did Veronica grab it on you.’
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘Nonsense, she must have tried to get hold of it.’
‘She ran out of petrol for her car. I went searching for Percival to get some. He couldn’t be found. He was fishing and might have been drowned.’
‘What a dashed nuisance. Lose a good servant like that. You know, let me tell you something boy, that woman has the finest physique I’ve ever seen. Summers she goes swimming down there in the lough. Never seen anything like it. The whole stable was down there lurking in the shrubbery watching just like myself. Had me they did, couldn’t tell them to bugger off or we’d give the whole show away. And she’s a ruddy glutton for it. Had a black man back in her flat and the poor chap crawled away in tears after four days.’