J. Donleavy - The Destinies of Darcy Dancer, Gentleman

‘I can call you Kildare. Can’t I.’

‘Yes Kelly.’

‘Please. They were seen earlier. And I hear they are still lurking around. You must address me properly.’

‘Who were seen.’

‘The Presidium members of course.’

‘I don’t in the least care if they are around Kelly.’

‘You should you know. Last term a boy got hung up by his wrists and ankles for two hours from an attic rafter. And there are even much worse things than that.’

‘What.’

‘I’ll tell you later I think.’

‘Why not now.’

‘Well. I think it’s so sinful.’

‘What is sinful.’

‘They make you masturbate while they all watch and you’ve got to do it three times in quick succession in order to be let off a beating or hanging.’

Darcy Dancer opening suitcases. Lights out. Boys going back and forth to the wash room with towels toothbrushes and toothpaste. Blackness on the windows. Someone passing down there with a lantern. Fog outside. The new moon would be long set now. Be such a black black night. Awfully Stupid does really seem awfully stupid. But harmless. Sitting as he does, his face wretched with anxiety, cracking the knuckles of his fist again and again. Licking his lips. As he thinks up some new question. Then scratching his head. Then frowning. Before finally leaning forward to speak.

‘Are you fearless, Kildare.’

‘No. I have fears, Kelly.’

‘You don’t seem to.’

‘Well I do. But bullies don’t frighten me. Fear can be quite good for you. It makes you watch out.’

‘O you’re so absolutely right, you really are. I’m bloody well watching out all the time.’

‘That’s jolly good then Kelly.’

‘You know I wish you were going to stay here next to me. I really do. I hardly have any real friends. I really am all alone down here in this corner now. That was Dunster’s bed. He got pneumonia. And it wasn’t long after he got the tub treatment too. I think that’s what gave it to him. But you’ll probably get your own room soon. Wish I had one. Even though locks aren’t allowed. I’d lock it right up. They hate me because I’m a shopkeeper’s son. Only they won’t admit. But so are some of them. I come from County Kildare the same as your name. Where do you come from.’

‘Kelly I think it is time for you to go to sleep. And conserve your energy for your fight against your torturers.’

‘It’s no joke Kildare, the way you make it sound. What are you doing. Putting on all those layers of underclothing.’

‘Just underwear, I’m easily chilled at night. Doctor’s orders.’

‘O.’

‘Goodnight Kelly.’

‘Goodnight Kildare.’

An owl hoot. Some whispering. Stare up at this ceiling. Till all is sleeping. And a dog barking. Somewhere far out there in the darkness. Be sheep dogs chasing me cross country. If only I had Kern and Olav. They would merely snap their necks one by one. As they did with any dog venturing into Andromeda Park. How many miles will I have to go. Without boots my feet will get awfully wet. But they slow you down when you have to run. From farmers bulls and dogs. Poor old little Kelly. Sat there tonight the side of his bed as if he were in prison. Awaiting execution in the morning. He’d be absolutely no use out roughing it. Terrified of shadows. Chewing his fingernails and cracking his knuckles the way he constantly does. And now his bed squealing as he tosses and turns.

Silence growing in the dormitory. Whispers hushing. Only a snuffle and a cough here and there. But that was a whimper. A torch light flashing in the door and down the beds. Must be a master. Checking the inmates. See if any have escaped. Just wait perhaps a little longer. This morning Mr Arland said, just as we went by that alley down which Lois took me, that we were all in our own little ways on a treadmill but that he hastened to add that it was prudent to consider one’s position there fortunate. But my monotonous presence here clearly will be unblest. If only I had had time to reconnoitre the ground floor. Should have ate more of my supper. Feel gnawing pangs of hunger now. Even stuffed as I was in the Grafton Cinema Café. Kelly would conclude I was permanently departing if I inquired of him where stores are kept. Kitchens just in back beyond the dining hall. Borrow a bit of bread cheese and butter. The more butter the better. None served at supper. Poor old Kelly there just releasing a snore. Only grown up thing he seems able to do. Nannie nannie, some other little boy has just cried out. Shadows. The end of the dormitory. One two three four. And now five. Tiptoeing. Creaking. Coming down this end. Best to appear asleep.

Figures stopping at Darcy Dancer’s bed. Two moving up one side, two the other. One standing at the foot. And a hand reaching. Pushing Darcy Dancer on the shoulder.

‘Kildare. Wake up. We are the Presidium. I am the spokesman. We have come to invite you to an inquisition.’

‘What inquisition.’

‘Your inquisition. Get up. And come with us.’

‘I won’t get up and come with you.’

‘You will if we make you.’

‘Well then try and make me.’

‘There are five of us. And one of you. Don’t be so daft now to challenge us.’

‘I don’t care how many.’

‘Keep your voice down. I suppose you plan to shout and wake everyone up. A cowardly call for help. Is that it.’

‘No.’

‘Well then. We see you’ve made a friend of Awfully Stupid there. To start with that’s awfully stupid of both of you. At least Awfully Stupid is not that stupid that he would refuse to come. Are you Awfully Stupid.’

‘No Supreme number one.’

‘We of course, Kildare, will merely take Awfully Stupid in your place, if that’s the kind of thing you prefer. We’ll let you listen to his agonizing screams through the ceiling. Awfully Stupid has the most god awful scream you can imagine. Ah that’s better. You are getting up. We thought you would not want harm to befall your new little friend. You may put on socks trousers and jacket. But no shoes. For silence sake. There is much stealthy creeping to be done.’

Darcy Dancer, preceded by two in front and followed by three behind, walking out the dormitory door. Turning left into a small corridor. And up three steps into another. Under an archway to a landing. And up a tiny narrow staircase. Another door. Opening into a water closet. A ladder being brought in. The door closed. And latch secured. The suspended electric light bulb pulled aside by a string.

‘You see Kildare. We post a guard here during daytimes. Should someone want to use the water closet he then soon hears within the unpleasant sound of yawking and even viler sounds should such be necessary to defer further inquiry.’

The spokesman climbing the ladder rungs up to the top and pushing open a small wooden cover in the ceiling. Darcy Dancer signalled to follow. And the last member of the Presidium tugging up the ladder and closing back the tiny trapdoor. Candles lit. Vast rafters across the ceiling. Sound of dripping water into a great tank. Dusty wood wormy floors covered with little black beads of mouse dung. Stack of newspapers and magazines. In a circle, boxes draped with black cloth. Each with a numeral. One to seven. A chair with a high back emblazoned with a red skull and bones.

‘Now Kildare. You sir, shall be there placed in the middle. So the inquisition may begin.’

‘I’ll stand where I am.’

‘O dear you are difficult. How many pairs of underwear are you wearing.’

‘None of your business.’

‘Strange. Indeed if not even suspicious. Were you expecting us and wanted to keep warm. Surely you are not that cold here. Now the purpose of this convening is to find out exactly why, when given a friendly invitation to challenge for a place in supremacy among us and maybe even become one of us, you are instead defying us.’