J. Donleavy - The Destinies of Darcy Dancer, Gentleman

‘And what did my father say to you.’

‘Kildare, it would do no good to tell you.’

‘You are no longer my tutor.’

‘That’s correct.’

‘What will you do.’

‘Find a teaching post I suppose.’

‘Will you like that.’

‘Not really.’

‘Isn’t there something else you could do.’

‘Yes. But I probably won’t.’

‘Why.’

‘O I don’t know. There’s much to recommend merely remaining a stick in the mud.’

‘Sir, this is one of the saddest days in my life.’

‘Come Kildare, buck up.’

‘I can’t sir jump up and down in joy and be jolly.’

‘I know you can’t Kildare. I know you can’t.’

We were passing the cinema where last night I saw the cowboy film with everyone being shot off horses and gentlemen in saloons downing whiskeys while pulling out their guns and between the briefest of insults blasting each other to death. Well pardner if you don’t reckon to get yourn head shot clean off you’d all better vamoose. Any normal person would be exhausted losing their tempers so often on the brink of death. And most of the film was quite utterly silly. But they were amazing good horsemen. And following some amusing cartoons and at the end of a travelogue concerning a trip to Mexico I went by myself to have supper. In the cinema’s cosy café upstairs. Upholstered seats and little lamps on the tables. Five different teas you could order on the menu. Among which were The Tasty, The Savoury and The Epicure. All consisting of tea, bread and butter but with the variation of eggs boiled, fried or poached and with either tomato, sausage or bacon. The girl who served me had a big freckled cheeked country face and spied from behind a cupboard watching me eat. To rush out smiling the instant I finished anything on my plate, asking would I be wanting more. Before I could say no, with my mouth still full, she said sure you’ll have another helping. Rushing away and returning with more sausage, tomato, poached egg, tea, bread, jam and butter. Out of politeness for her hospitality I kept on eating as best as I spiritually could. Till I was physically gorged groaning. But I knew she knew I was from the country, and out of that comradeship she was only trying to give me the best of service and hospitality. As well as clearly depriving her employers of a profit.

Ten thirty by the blue dial of Trinity’s clock. As we crossed this wide street and went by the big grey bank. The clanging roaring trams. The street aswarm with bicycles. Big rumbling horse carts stacked with barrels. Replenishing Mr Arland said, the empty cellars of the pubs following the weekend. And getting ready for Monday night which would leave them even emptier. The pavements astir with expressionless faces on their way. A blond young man on the bridge holding out a tin cup and stoically turning the handle of a street organ. Who had also stood there as a young boy through Mr Arland’s undergraduate years. Past an ice cream parlour of cold faces seated inside the windows. And further on under the gloomy granite portico of the post office. Where we turned down a street called Henry. To buy me a suitcase and two blue blankets. And with all my new supplies packed in, we took a train.

In the empty chill first class carriage, Mr Arland spoke of Clarissa’s friend Rashers Ronald who, aided and abetted by the actress, was in feverish hot racing pursuit to marry a very fat, dyed blonde lady widow who owned four pubs, an eighty acre farm, two newsagents and a tobacconist’s shop. From the latter of which Rashers was already collecting a daily ration of twenty free cigarettes of a brand nicely named Mr Arland said Passing Clouds.

In a drizzling rain, six stations down the track, a motor car met us. To take us further cross country several miles from this town and up a winding drive to a big stone country house. From which as we mounted its wide bleak steps, I swore instantly to run away. Mr Arland I thought had moisture in his eyes as he shook my hand in this large barren cold front hall. He said he’d just been to put in a good word with a master he knew. And I felt a shuddering in my breast and globules in my own eyes hearing the motor car door shut, the engine rev and the wheels move away over the pebbles. Two small boys carrying my bags took me back through a long passage and up stone winding stairs into a long dormitory. The day now darkening out the windows. Parklands and fields. A lake. Over which I could see the distant slow progress of swans flying. And as I stood, my bags stacked next to a mattress doubled back on the bed another larger boy my size came up to me.

‘You are in our form. I’ve come to present the compliments of Supreme number one. What’s your name.’

‘Kildare.’

‘And your christian name.’

‘Reginald.’

‘Reggie.’

‘I’m afraid I do not want to be called that.’

‘Alright then. Kildare. Well Kildare, you look a good sort. Who would you like to challenge for supremacy. There are those ranking from one down to twenty seven.’

‘No one.’

‘Well then you shall be everyone’s slave.’

‘I shall not be anyone’s slave.’

‘O well we shall see about that. Unless you challenge for supremacy you are at the bottom of the ladder. Where have you been before this.’

‘That is my business.’

‘You are, aren’t you, a rather cheeky fellow. Especially coming brand new here. I am second in supreme here. That is how we rank each other. With a number. First second and so on. There’s a mediocre chap Jones from Wales. You could I think just pop him one straight in the kisser and you would then be fourth in supreme.’

‘I would like nothing better than to be nothing in supreme here.’

‘O it is like that is it. Come come now. You are being a most tedious fellow you know. I think you may be nervous in your new surroundings. Are you anyone who matters.’

‘What do you mean by that.’

‘O I mean does your father have a title or own estates. The usual sort of thing. It helps you know if you are of the right sort. Are you the right sort.’

‘Don’t be impertinent.’

‘Ah you are of the most brazen sort. Dear me. Don’t be impertinent. You know that is a misdemeanour to speak to me like that. You’re not a potato digger are you. Or a boggie. Or a shopkeeper’s son.’

‘I said don’t be impertinent.’

‘And what Reggie are you going to do about it if I am.’

‘I shall sock your jaw off in quick fashion.’

‘Ah you challenge me to supremacy.’

‘I challenge you to nothing. I will merely do as I have just said if you continue along with your stupid little childish game.’

‘Well let me warn you. I am the sixth best fighter in this whole school. But you are a spunky. My name is Purejoy. And of course as you prefer I shall call you Kildare. But Kildare if you want my honest opinion, I think you are very much a type usually referred to as a curmudgeonly fellow. If you are scholarly enough to be familiar with the word. And perhaps should be left to your own sad devices. And miss out completely on all the goodies that the influential top members of this school are in the habit of enjoying. Including, of course, having your own private personal room and slave. O well maybe you’ve been sent down from another school for being similar to how you are now. But if you have any brains at all, you will change your tune.’

‘Goodbye.’

‘Certainly, goodbye. But you may be wishing all too soon that you had said something quite else.’

Darcy Dancer sat by the mattress. Looking again out on the fields as darkness fell. Until the lights of the dormitory were switched on. As somewhat smaller boys charged in. And whispered putting books back in lockers. At the sound of what seemed an evening dinner gong, they charged out again. Another boy came in and said he was delegated to escort me. And that until a better name was allowed him by Supreme number one I would have to address him as Stupid.