The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [105]
God
Bless
The
Poor.
"Mac, I hope it won't embarrass you if I just kneel down here and offer up a little prayer from the pavement. That's a very fine thing. If more people felt that way would we have strife? Would we? I ask you would we have strife?"
"I can only say Danger that I have been driven to designing bras the uplift of which will put a new lust into the hearts of these citizens"
The mellow lights through the frosted windows. Entering into the saloon bar with its flowers and decks of sandwiches. The polished chairs and tables. People of a class with dogs. MacDoon brought over the two pints and laid them on the shiny table. Thirst was general.
Dangerfield leaned back in his chair, folding his legs far away under the table. He smiled.
Sitting talking of Dublin when it had been the Rome of the world. O it's little pitfalls and despairs. Of Clocklan who abandoned ship. MacDoon told of the hard demands made by woman, of how he was beginning to wish he had none at all or that it was so big as to be carried by the London Fire Brigade for use on major fires.
And these dogs. Happy hungry animals. If only I owned one. I know they foul the streets and are at times disgusting with others on various village greens. Despite indelicacy I want one. Preferably of a fine breed and pedigree to go with my own. And MacDoon I must admit you're extraordinarily handsome with fine hands and here you are tinkering in this endless city. Perhaps Mary can pose for you when you design the large sizes. And bring home the bacon to some nice airy room with a fine gas ring and rugs hanging on the walls where I can sit like a detective smoking a pipe and resting feet. I'll read books. Polish my fingernails. I don't care about the other greedy ones. I think I'll have another bath before I go bye bye to my bedi bo.
They parted at the station. Where the red trains went in went out. An Earl's Court for sure. And I ride along on these nice cars looking at everyone.
Back at the hotel crawling weary on the heavy bed. Face on the pillow, covers up over me. And cars squealing around the corners out there.
I set sail all right. Saw the lights of Holyhead. The black Liverpool. And the still birds standing up on top of that building. Cotton, meat and grain. I look down from the deck into the faces terrified of recognition. Safe only at sea. I got breakfast, a three-penny paper, and looked at all those girls in red lips and curlers. I'm alone. And took the train. The land was gray. And when I got here all the others were taking big cars and taxis everywhere and I had no one and just walked down the platform wondering what to do. I see them all greeted with kisses.
And not
One
For me.
26
Upon London Sunday, Sebastian Dangerfield went by advice of MacDoon to a place in the Bovir Road where he took a room on the top floor of this yellow Victorian house. Tiny tidy room. A soft bed covered with green ticking. In the corner by the large window an oak table, a chair and another of basket weave. Twisted electric fire in the wall and a shilling meter by the door. A basin and a bath across the hall where on a chair you can see down on the tracks and station.
Every morning a rap on the door by an Indian woman. Breakfast. Reach out and on with the electric fire. Into the clothes. Down these dark stairs. Come in where they all smile and say hello and others good morning. Cozy trimming and pots of dried flowers. Always been partial to them. I know these people are from the Commonwealth. That woman says her son has a new job. Yes, you know they decided to move him up. Madam, that's just great.
Every morning it's like this. Porridge with lashings of milk and sugar. Then the bacon and eggs. Bring them on. OI tell you. And the Indian woman bringing in the pots of tea. And every morning I go back up the stairs and look out the window while they go by in the street with little umbrellas. And that woman over there who delights in it. I know she does. Standing naked and unabashed by her window with a certain hauteur looking back at me from between the towel drying her face. Don't think I don't see you, sister. You've got a good husky body. But if I saw you in the street dressed I think perhaps you would be different with your white lace coming out at various places from your suit.