J. Donleavy - Leila - Further in the Life and Destinies of Darcy Dancer, Gentleman

‘How are you boss, it’s good to see you again.’

Darcy Dancer turning. To confront this shyly smiling face and mischievously sparkling eyes. Last seen so many years ago, hungry, cold, bedraggled and shunned by the world. And now in a smart, perhaps too checked jacket, his hair slicked back, cavalry twill jodhpur trousers. A rather overly colourful and overly shiny tie that one suspects might be American. And his shirt and collar not exactly pure white or ironed to perfection. But it is, none the less, Foxy Slattery himself.

‘Foxy what a surprise.’

‘I was to seeing the father over in the hospital. Only for the sake of the mother. And if you don’t mind me saying, he’s still the same old mean cruel bastard he always was. And I was just now down there for a look in the stables. A right old mess they are. In the care of me little brother. Worse than when I was looking after them. Dirty bad old hay. Dung everywhere but on the manure heap. Hear he’s a bit of a devil like meself. I’m training the odd horse now. Over at the Curragh. And I sell a motor car or two on the side. SAI three eight nine, eight seven nought six ZC, five two four two LI.’

‘Ah I don’t think I quite understand what you’re saying Foxy.’

‘Ah that’s the registration numbers on the cars parked outside. Now I’d be able to tell you the history of each one of them.’

‘Well Foxy, not really knowing of course but I suppose that is useful to know. And you do look as if you have little to complain about.’

‘Had a few tough times. But for the moment, there’s not a bother on me. Made a bob or two. I wasn’t exactly a saint, but sure when the world with everyone in it was against me, you always treated me right. I’ll not forget you bringing me a sup of food out there beyond. When no one in this place cared whether I starved or died. I’ll remember that. Didn’t think you’d mind me stopping in a moment. I wouldn’t but for you treating me well, come into the big house like this otherwise. And I had to laugh. Crooks over there still got an eye on me and nearly fainted at the sight of me when I walked in. But the Kraut Miss von B, you’d think never clapped eyes on me before. But we did clap eyes on plenty of her in our time. But if there’s anything I can do for you now, legal or illegal, I’d want you to let me know.’

‘Thank you Foxy.’

‘Not much has changed in the old place. But there’s an odd face here now I’d know from Dublin. But I won’t outstay my welcome.’

‘Foxy you’re entirely welcome. Please, do have a drink.’

‘Ah I’m on me way now. And you’d already have your hands full with the lot of them here. And I’m keeping people away from talking to you. I’ll maybe grab a nip of something and say goodbye now and good luck. And any time you want to do business in the way of a motor car you know who to come to. And I’d have plenty of petrol for your tank and rubber for your wheels.’

Darcy Dancer watching Foxy Slattery stride away. Heels clicking on the tiles. And we did indeed the pair of us clap eyes on the beauteous Miss von B, lying stretched bosoms floating in the steaming bath water. And over there. Rashers Ronald. Wearing a more contented enthusiasm on his face. Sizing up the paintings and objets d’art with the practised eye of the pawn shop habitué. Dear me. He sees me. Of course he would know what one is thinking. He and the Mental Marquis would make a great pair. And here he comes smiling.

‘You are kitted out, my dear boy. Quite kitted out. Totally possessing all the nice appurtenances which allow for an unrivalled, nay an utterly unassailable role in life. At the very top. I mean I haven’t had a chance to fully count your servants yet. But I mean all, everything is very nicely splendid, thank you. If it were not utterly ignoble of me to do so, I would ask for my two fivers back. But the gentlemanly thing requires me to instead borrow them back from you. May I.’

Darcy Dancer taking the two crinkled white five pound notes from his side jacket pocket. Where they had been so contentedly crumpled. Placing them in this apologetic but none the less deliberate hand.

‘Damn decently sporting of you, Kildare. It really is. It’s a damn denomination so prized by serious race goers. And I mean do you think, I might also presume a little further on your splendid hospitality. You must say no of course, if it is of the slightest even of the teeniest weeniest slightest inconvenience to you. But as a matter of damn fact I’ve been chucked out of my wretched basement. And into another worse basement. In the catacombs. And frankly dear chap. In that place. The rodents, mayhem, murder and perversions are the very least of it. I just simply can’t take the irreverence. To the principles of behaviour one upholds. I don’t mind the physical insult, constantly assaulting one, it’s the social maim and injury one can’t stand. Having to rub more than one’s elbows with gurriers and newsboys. Who wouldn’t know an ode from an QX. Imagine one of them greeting me as an intimate on Grafton Street. And then with other collected awful tramps in abundance, having to spend the night in their filthy disgusting proximity. Foul personal habits appal me. Is it too much to ask. Just to be away a sojourn from all that. I will sleep on the floor. Just show me some hearth rug in some little out of the way corner. And my dear chap I only speak as fast as I do, not wanting to let you say no, until I’ve made, I hope, clear how desperate my absolute desperation actually is. Need just a few moments to simply my dear boy gain my confidence back to face my dear betrothed. While her accountants are persuaded in my favour to fund my efforts in taking up my professional duties as a bookmaker. Or rather, turf accountant, as those residing in Foxrock would better have it.’

My mouth when it opened first, simply did not speak. The stricken look again so overtaking poor Rashers’ face. How to tell him. That this oasis he perceives is a mirage. On the most disappointing of deserts. And just as Sexton would say. Ah it’s a great morning for delusions of grandeur. Plus I did nearly the handing him back his ten pounds. After the utter pleasured relief of putting in instead of taking money out of one’s pocket. A symbol of what was happening in my life. Wages for three for a week. And now. To add the thirst of one more throat to slake. The hunger of one more mouth to feed. How does one make that rare display of perfect manners which shields the truth behind it. Yet I know his discerning wits would find me out. Simply must gather up all my resources of firmness and even cruelty. But search all over one’s brain for the most uncruel words. To say the most cruel thing.

‘I’m terribly sorry Rashers, but I think that that would be a rather difficult idea at the moment. You see.’

One stopped. So utterly in one’s tracks. And in the din of other voices all around one’s ears. To see the vast tears aflood in his eyes. Their shiny tiny spheres breaking over the lids. Streaking down on his red ruddy cheeks.

‘I understand. And why I may not be wanted. I know I’m a chancer. A fraud, hoaxer, fortune hunter. And that our past acquaintanceship is trivial. I am sorry that I have asked you. What clearly I should not have asked.’

Rashers’s shoulders folding forward. His head slumping on his chest. His voice breaking into racking sobs. Tears spilling blotting their dark spots on his bright orange tie. My own heart welling up. With the only words. That could come to my mouth. And there remain mute. For only my mind to hear.

In the solemnity

Of pain

In the bright

Key

Of E major

Let music

Reign

I led Rashers into the front west parlour. Dead flies falling out as I opened the shutters of that dusty unused museum of a room. Smelling of musky damp. Full of its glass cases of porcelain and bric à brac. I’m sure one was mistaken but I thought the tears did dry rather quickly as Rashers’s eye swept round the statuettes and bowls, the trinkets and cups. Nonetheless I did give him an Andromeda Park best linen napkin to mop up any remaining grief.