J. Donleavy - The Destinies of Darcy Dancer, Gentleman

I nearly collapsed backwards laughing. For I had just taken the drape still hanging half off where someone had attempted to put it back up and I threw the dusty heavy brocaded folds right over him. Lashing out as he was now at everything. And distinctly getting out of breath.

‘There you are you stupid bully find your way out of that.’

Darcy Dancer leaning in close to shout his words into the rising dust and shape changing drape. And suddenly to try to jump back as he felt his ankle caught by a big strong hand. Upending his leg. And then a thumb and finger sinking deep into the side of my neck. As we grappled and crashed back again into the sideboard, knocking off another decanter or two and scattering the broken pieces of dishes among the salt and sugar grains under foot. Mixed with the greasy fare of the breakfast plate now off the table. Lowering my head I butted him. And twisted free of his hand. He fell backwards, holding on to the table and catching his breath. The sound of his angrily hissing voice. Silenced when I opened and slammed shut the door of the dining room. In the hall my hand going up to my face, wet and cool as I ran. My fingers covered crimson. Blood pouring in a cascade. On my chest and pumping knees. As I raced up the grand staircase.

Miss von B hysterical as she saw me. Coming into her room. Throwing myself in her arms. There beside her bed. Packing her luggage. And I felt my own few tears between her sobs. She cleaned the wound. A deep gouge down my cheek. And covered it with gauze and bandage. Which went right round my head and under my nose. Her photograph album open on top of a neat stack of her clothes on the floor. Two pictures removed from their mounts. One of her as a tiny child and another I had not seen before. Of her side faced and laughing. Her hair shortened in curls at the side of her head.

‘I want you to have these please of me.’

And on that morning, grown grey and cold again after a sunny sun, the pictures in my hands, I begged her not to go. That this was my house if she would but wait. But then I knew and could understand. What she meant when she said the drums were beating. That throughout the household were furtive frightened looks. From Norah and Sheila, rushing past just nodding their silent heads. And Crooks quickly exiting from rooms and Catherine the cook working behind a closed kitchen door that was usually always open. The breakages still left in the dining room. Crooks’s crossed eyes seemed now heaven and hellwards turned instead of in their usual east and west directions. And Miss von B said I should have careful stitches in my face. But I would not let her have the doctor summoned. That I was quite content to be scarred for life. And then I heard her voice. Down in the north east parlour. Shouting. As I was descending the grand staircase.

‘Haven’t you done enough to the poor boy. To cut and disfigure his face. When he has only been recently out of his sick bed. You brute.’

And I could not hear what he said. But it was something that made Miss von B shout all the louder.

‘How dare you, how dare you say such things to me.’

By the time I got to the north east parlour door, Miss von B was opening it and slamming it behind her. Tears again welling in her eyes. Her face and neck all flushed red above the edge of her grey sweater and string of pearls. Her hand reaching out for my arm.

‘Come. We both shall go. Leave this place. I will take you away with me.’

And the parlour door opening behind us. And there he was in the same brown tweed with its faint line of red squares. His monocle back in his eye. Miss von B her arm around my shoulder standing together in the middle of the hall. Under my every important ancestor’s eye.

‘And Miss von B I will have you arrested for kidnapping.’

‘And you squander this boy’s birthright.’

‘It is none of your damn business what I’do. And the quicker you can get the hell out of here the better.’

‘I shall go. I shall go instantly. I am packed. You need not worry.’

‘Damn good riddance to you too.’

The door slammed. My stupid so called father gone back into the parlour. Miss von B and I went to her room. All the work she’d done mending and fixing, dusting and cleaning. And I tightened some leather straps around her bags. Of this woman. Who’d stopped the whole place from completely tumbling down. If only I could see Uncle Willie to ask his advice. Or even Sexton. Who regrettably imparted even more dismal news when I came across him in his potting shed. Separating out bulbs.

‘Ah Master Darcy, now, it’s a pretty kettle of fish. None of my business. What goes on in the big house. It’s not for the humble likes of me to comment upon. But they’ve got the guards alerted to keep an eye out at the station and around the roads. Sure now the disgraceful accusation is that it was yourself who took the master’s horse that led the gallop into the gossip concerning that poor innocent girl.’

Crooks was standing on the front steps as Luke came up the hill from the farmyard with the float. Miss von B in a long grey wool coat, a dark blue boubouska tied around her head. She seemed so suddenly really scared that she could be accused of kidnapping.

At the station, we waited for the train. Under the eggshell blue of a cold evening sky. Tiny clusters of clouds grey and underlined in pink. The sun setting. The trees’ branches so stark. The fields a faded green in the dying light. And two great swans coming overhead, their wings beating their white powerful strokes.

‘Look swans. Flying together. I hope that’s like us.’

‘I too my sweet, hope they are like us. Flying together.’

And chugging around the turning a little faster than usual came the train. Thundering and blowing and hissing steam into the station. Kern and Olav had run behind us on the drive out to the gates. And they sat really looking sad as we went down the road. Miss von B said to say goodbye to Sexton. And Crooks in parting clearly had tears in his twisted eyes. Luke looked all solemn and furtive. And all the way taking me back, to my every desperately cheerful comment he would say, ah now you’ve said it. Till I said nothing at all. And Miss von B with her four bags. None of which were awfully grand. Or marked with coronets. But I had made them at least secure with the big leather straps’ I tightened around each. And helped stack them over her head in the carriage. Silk stockings on her legs. Which curved she said in the true manner of an aristocrat. And as her skirt lifted getting her into the carriage, a gentleman already in the compartment was falling all over himself to help her in too. I was quite ready to punch him. But with my bandage attracting so much attention I thought best not to attract any more.

I held her gloved hand in each of mine, feeling through the thin kid skin the heat of her fingers. I was now going to say goodbye. My face looking up at hers as she leaned forward and down out of the compartment window. The wind and fresh air of the drive had brought a new freshness to her skin and colour to her cheeks. And it may have been the evening light but something seemed lost in her eyes. As if they looked over my shoulder and far away into the past. Or even remembering how she found me unaristocratically peeing that night off the front steps of Andromeda Park. But maybe it was because she had said goodbye on other trains. Even sadder than this. And all now that would be left of her would be the smell of pine and lavender she used in her cupboards and drawers.

‘My sweet, my sweet, my sweet. Just kiss me.’

In the scent of turf smoke to put my lips upraised towards hers. And feel the softness of their flesh. And suddenly the train was gone. I couldn’t somehow believe it. That I would see its lights going away down the tracks. And leave everywhere I looked so empty. Hearing the engine growing fainter now. Puffing and chugging and pulling. To roll. Big steel wheels clicking and clacking on this track. Out of this grey station to go past the miles of empty winter countryside. Over which the hounds give tongue. The scent taken. Watching from a hillside. Their distant white specks running across the low land of a valley. As they did one day. When Miss von B and I were gaily hunting. Standing with all the horses sending up a cloud of steam so that we all vanished from sight. Till away we went again. Over the beige rushes against the green. Find him. Run. Flying. Out under the scattered clouds. Gallop thundering on the endless green. Find him.