J. Donleavy - The Destinies of Darcy Dancer, Gentleman

‘You liar.’

‘That’s a challenge.’

‘You bet it is.’

‘Shush. Good lord listen. It’s roaring. The fire is beginning to roar. Isn’t that marvellous how it can do that.’

‘It may be marvellous Supreme number five but upon my great grand aunt Queen Victoria, I am, gentlemen, not remaining to listen but am about to say toodle ooo. And upon decamping out of here where it’s already beginning to piss down from the ceiling I’m going to watch this conflagration from the front ruddy lawn in relative ruddy comfort.’

‘Come back here number four.’

‘Fuck you number one.’

‘By god, you sod I’ll see you flogged before the main mast.’

‘Well I’ll see you, my good man, barbecued before the school assembly.’

‘Someone’s got to yell fire. Quickly. We must rouse the school.’

‘Come on number two, and Kildare, get down.’

Darcy Dancer helping to guide Supreme number two clutching at the rungs. His eyes blinking and blinded by smoke. As these two last escapees descend spluttering and choking. Supreme number three holding the ladder at the bottom while shaking his head sidewards to dislodge water out of his ears. His soaked clothes clinging and a puddle collecting at his feet. Supreme number two wiping his eyes with a handkerchief.

‘I’ll say one thing for you, Kildare, you’re quite sporting. Thank you.’

‘No reason to abandon someone just because his closest colleagues do.’

‘Yes, well thank you again. I won’t, I promise forget it. But God they’re all gone. Leave the ladder. And we had better not stand here on ceremony.’

‘Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire.’

A voice shouting down the halls. Supreme number two running with one hand holding up his trousers. He trips and falls flat on his face just as the lights come on. And promptly go off again as I feel my way along this wall to retrace steps down the tiny narrow staircase. Take deep clean breaths of air. The sound of more running feet echoing. Ahead a bit of light. Move along this corridor. Here’s the archway and landing. Down three steps. Turn right. A door slamming. Shouts of fire now. Everywhere. Just time to get into this dormitory before anyone sees me. And let out my own little shout.

‘Fire. The school is on fire.’

Darcy Dancer as the light switches on. Running down the centre aisle between the grey tubular iron framed beds. Pulling on again his jacket just removed. And all these heads pop up from their pillows. And start to stare with blinking and rubbed eyes.

‘Where. Where.’

With Awfully Stupid, most alert of all sitting up on his elbows. A deep frown on his singularly pasty unattractive face.

‘Kildare, is there really a fire.’

‘Yes.’

‘O my goodness. I must save my chocolate fudge.’

Awfully Stupid jumping out of bed. Rummaging in his locker. As a scream emits further up the dormitory room.

‘Look at that Kildare. What’s happened. The ceiling, the water is pouring down out of the ceiling over there.’

‘By jove, so it is, Kelly. How observant of you.’

‘Look, the plaster’s coming away, it really is pouring. And good lord right down on Pratt’s bed, and he’s still asleep poor sod.’

A master at the entrance of the dormitory in long white night cap. Tightening the belt of his dressing gown. A blanket clutched and pulled over his shoulders. Holding an arm out. Halting the first of the eagerly departing. And shouting down the line of beds.

‘Remember your drill, remember your drill. File out now, in an orderly fashion boys. To the left to the end of the corridor and down the kitchen stairs. Quickly. The school I regret to say is on fire. Leave belongings behind. But no need to panic. In orderly fashion now. Quick march. That’s it. Count you. As you go. Thirteen fourteen fifteen.’

Darcy Dancer, pushing many stockinged feet into his shoes. Painfully squeezing my metacarples into where they won’t fit with all these woolly layers. Awfully Stupid’s eyes bulging. A tin flowered box under his arm.

‘O dear kildare, there really is a fire.’

‘Of course there is, can’t you see everyone is leaving.’

‘I want to stay with you. Why are you putting on all those clothes and things.’

‘Because in the two or so hours it takes to watch the school burn down to the ground, it’s going to be awfully cold outside.’

‘You’re so right, you’re so absolutely right Kildare.’

‘Come on don’t dawdle.’

Darcy Dancer pushing Awfully Stupid in front of him. The master as they approach counting them twenty six and twenty seven.

‘You’re the new boy. That should be all of you. Go quickly now. Catch the others up. Good grief that groaning sound is that the ceiling.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Why it’s about to come down. Good lord it is coming down.’

The master, Darcy Dancer and Awfully Stupid all taking a step backwards. A cat scurrying past in the hall. Clearly everyone’s making a run for it. Lights grow strangely bright. As a great massive span of white dripping plaster, bellied downwards, yawns, creaks and cracks. Breaking and splintering from laths and joists. To plummet on beds, lockers and across the aisle. Thunderously followed by volumes of water pouring down on the rubble. The master putting his hands up to the sides of his face.

‘O my god. We’re ruined. O my god. Go on boys, go on. Out with you.’

A master standing now in front of each little group ranged over the soggy lawn. Lights on in all the school windows. Flames shooting from the roof of the north wing, reddening the smoke ascending into a descending fog. Bell ringing. Boys in pyjamas trembling in the chill. Older boys and members of the Presidium rushing in and out and up and down the front steps. Carrying portraiture. Others lugging chairs. Some unsportingly grinning. A little voice piping up behind one.

‘This is jolly good fun.’

‘Ruddy right but wish the flames would spread faster and keep us warmer.’

Motor car lights coming out along a road. An old man hobbling in big black boots and overcoat and carrying a pail of water towards the entrance. A cheer going up. A master pushing the old gentleman back with his pail. And a boo erupting. Awfully Stupid giving me a blow by blow description as he chews insanely on his cubes of delicious smelling chocolate fudge without offering me one.

‘That’s old Conners, the cricket pitch groundsman, and they won’t let him go in to fight the fire.’

‘He’d hardly get anywhere with merely a bucket of water, Kelly.’

‘Goodness Kildare, I guess you are so absolutely right, he wouldn’t would he. Look. The flames. The slates are falling through and the flames are coming right out. Right over our dormitory nearly reaching our beds.’

‘It’s not very good for the school, is it Kelly.’

‘I should say not Kildare, I should certainly say not. Look the headmaster. He hasn’t combed his hair. Getting up on the steps. lie must be going to make an announcement.’

‘All right attention everybody. Attention now. Cease the idle chatter. Now I want all of you. To listen carefully. There’s a long night ahead of us. And a cold one. Some of you may of course not have seen a school burn down before.’

‘Ha ha.’

‘But I don’t think there is any question but that many of you have not wanted to see one burn down.’

‘Ha ha ha.’

‘Alright cease the laughter. We are presently awaiting the arrival of the town fire brigade. Meanwhile our own school fire apparatus is being employed. We may be able to confine the fire to the north wing. In such case you boys from the north wing will double up. And I want no larking. We will serve a hot drink soon from the kitchens.’