J. Donleavy - Schultz

His Lordship one side, Binky the other and Schultz luxuriating in the flashing beams of sunshine. Down Sloane Street and humming along the King’s Road. So named for a monarch who once made his way to the edge of Fulham to mount a lady friend. Before there were these drab house and shop fronts. A pottery, cemetery and church. And over the Thames at Putney Bridge. Its mud flats along the river black and shiny at low tide. Playing fields and the greenery of Barnes Common. And the larger more affluent suburban houses. Mortlake and Sheen. And beyond at a mile a minute through Sunningdale. Until at four o’clock they agreeably took tea in a cozy oak tea room of a village. Schultz leaning way back in his chair as he slowly pushed a cream bun into his pleased expression and regarded the tweedy rose growing ladies.

“Jesus, England. Look at this quaint fucking place. Like a magazine advertisement for the good life. Well bred people just hanging around in here eating this Devon clotted cream, hot scones and clover honey and drinking tea in the middle of this secluded picturesque countryside without a single fucking worry in the world.”

“Ah Schultz his Royal Grace and I did so think you might like it all.”

“Like it, I’m fucking well utterly enchanted. But with this kind of bliss no wonder the country is ruined.”

Schultz constantly jerking around in his seat enquiring about nearly every item in the passing landscape. Hubert directed to make a little detour to a tiny village where, nervously hopping out, his Lordship bought cheese and tongue.

“Now Schultz try a bit of cheese wrapped up in this calves’ tongue.”

“Hey this is really delicious. Jesus to think I was screwing around years in the fucking States missing all this. When are we reaching your cottage your Lordship. We’ve been heading down this winding narrow road over these hills and through these valleys for half an hour.”

“Not long Schultz. In fact just over this bridge and up through the village.”

“Hey this is really beautiful. And christ. Did you see her. That girl. Did you see her. She turned around looking at us. Gorgeous. Shit. Everyone is turning around and looking at us.”

“Schultz I must warn you. You are not to spread your clap around this place, where I unfortunately happen to be known.”

“Hey you have to remind me of that just when I’m enjoying myself. All I’m doing is remarking on the incredible beauty. But don’t worry about a thing your Lordship, my prick is temporarily safely bandaged up inside my zipped up fly. Till I start using it on this fantastic girl I met today in the lobby of Gayboy’s building.”

Up through the high street. A bakery, a grocery, a pub and neat grey stone houses. A saddlers. Seed and grain merchant. A book shop. Tall elms surrounding a triangular green. A hotel The Lord Nectarine. Past some ancient stone cottages. And at the outskirts of this ancient village a high wall on either side of the road. Beyond which beeches towered and the deep green leaves of rhododendrons shined in the sun. The two motor cars turning left into an entrance.

“Hey where are we going.”

“We’re here Schultz.”

“Hey that’s what I thought, back there I noticed a hotel, The Lord Nectarine, is that you.”

“Schultz you do have sharp eyes don’t you.”

“You bet I do. Those were some kind of gate lodges we passed there.”

“They were Schultz.”

“Jesus they’re big enough to live in. Hey Jesus look at that. Cattle. Cows. Sheep. Horses. Hey this is beautiful. Christ a river. What are those your Lordship. Those big hill tops of trees.”

“Ah Schultz your curiosity is insatiable. Binky do tell Schultz, you know so much more about these things than I.”

“Those my dear insatiable Schultz are the park arrangements. Set out in such fashion by a chap Capability Brown who had rather a flair for that sort of thing. Placing trees, hills and various vistas so that they would be agreeable to the eye and bewitching by moonlight to the ladies.”

“Jesus you guys. As if you didn’t have enough bewitchingly agreeable already, now you got to have a guy shifting the whole landscape and countryside around so you get your rocks off if you even look sideways. Hey where’s this cottage. We’ve gone a couple of miles. There’s a church. And a cemetery. Don’t tell me you have your own church and cemetery too.”

“I’m just counting these cows Schultz. Binky I’m sure will explain.”

“Ah Schultz unlike you brash rushing Americans we Brits do like to equip ourselves for life. One must upon occasion be seen to pray you know. And even, in due course get buried. One does however attempt to delay that event by pursuing one’s comfortable habits as long as possible.”

“What’s that Binky. Up on top of that hill.”

“The ruin of the old cottage Schultz.”

“Cottage. That’s an old castle.”

“Now Schultz if you wait but a moment, you will see just as we cross this little bridge and rise up this hill, the new cottage. Ah. There.”

“Jesus christ almighty, your Lordship, that’s not where you fucking well live is it.”

“Survive is a better word Schultz.”

“But it’s fucking massive. What has it got a thousand rooms or something. Jesus look at the turrets and towers. And all them windows. Hey wait, it’s gone out of sight now.”

“Be back in view in just a minute Schultz.”

“Jesus I hope so, I want to see that again.”

“Just as we get up this little hill now. And just around by this clump of trees.”

“Wow. Look at that. It’s like out of a fairy tale or something. What the hell do you do in there all by yourself for fucks sake.”

“Ah Schultz you have asked a most marvellously pertinent question. Which of course I think I can answer. In one word. Cower.”

“Jesus cower. I wouldn’t cower. I’d go fill the place up with pieces of fucking ass and screw my brains out.”

“Of course Schultz being already familiar with your personal habits, we both fervently believe you.”

“Hey some guy’s running up a flag on that turret. This place is fucking incredible. What a film set. I mean Jesus, for porno films, your Lordship. You’d make a million.”

“Ah Schultz I knew the time would finally come when you would provide me with a solution to my life.”

Crossing a moat, the motor’s wheels rumbling over a drawbridge. The cars swinging around on pebble stones to draw to a halt in front of a great oaken door. The castle’s long shadows spread out beyond its dikes across sweeping lawns and pasture and reaching up to a forest edge of trees. Where two great birds, their vast black shiny wings flapping gave deep cries as they flew swooping out over the parkland.

“Christ your Lordship you got a team of fucking retinue waiting.”

A tall austere butler his grey hair parted in the middle and combed flat back on his head stood flanked by two footmen in livery. The shortest of whom stepped forward, opened the car door and bowed to his Lordship alighting. The butler’s chin rising as he tweezed a fingertip of one hand with the fingertips of his other, intoning into the moist soft late afternoon air.

“Welcome home my Lord, I trust your journey was pleasant.”

“Yes thank you Batters. Schultz this is Batters. Mr. Schultz. And of course Batters you know Mr. Sunning dale.”

“Mr. Schultz, sir. And Mr. Sunningdale, so good to have you back with us again.”

Schultz led to his room by a young footman in dark green livery. Toting Schultz’s bag between two brass cannons and across the stone paved floor of the enormous pillared hall. Up the Jacobean staircase. A mullioned window looking down on the moat and out over more parkland. Massive gilt framed portraits. Some folk in their ermine and scarlet robes staring dolefully down. Along an arched corridor to a doorway entrance which went through six feet of masonry from the hall. Inside the outside door an inner door covered in a soft green damask silk opening on this pine scented perfumed high ceilinged room.