J. Donleavy: Schultz

“Hey holy shit honey here’s few quid, go out and buy yourself something decent.”

Somehow blue eyed Greta understood these words better than she did Schultz’s sign language. She also brought back dusters and a washing up mop. Not of course remotely realising that Schultz got really nervous not to say hysterical at the least signs of domesticity. However, the girl’s jumping to action each morning at Schultz’s first eye opening and then laying an appetizing laden breakfast tray and newspaper in front of him, made him delay issuing walking papers. But when she sat contentedly darning holes in his socks until three a.m. one morning, Schultz lost control.

“Hey what the fuck are you doing, darning my socks, and always cleaning and dusting. Why don’t you go out to the movies once in a while.”

He was at this crucial point and on a sombre London Sunday afternoon with Schultz still in his pyjamas while enjoyably perusing a vicar and choirboy scandal in a Sunday newspaper, that a fatal never to be forgotten moment came. At precisely the toll of Big Ben booming four o’clock. Reverberating out westerly across the quiet empty streets of Westminster. Over the Royal residence of the Sovereign. And beyond the roof tops of the once great old mansions of England’s once great rich. And right to the white painted elevation of Schultz’s town house in Belgravia. This venerable bell knelled. As Schultz bounded down the stairs to the ringing telephone.

“Hey that you Sigmund. It’s me Al.”

“Hi Big Al. What’s new.”

“Sigmund. Let me tell you.”

“Sure.”

“Sigmund she’s standing here. Right next to me. She is so beautiful it hurts. I’ve tried everything, haven’t I honey. To enter you. And Sigmund she’s turned me down flat. Now I told her. O.K. so you don’t want to fool around with these old guys. I’m thirty four minus my four years I got for good behaviour. But still I’m too ancient. So I got a nice young guy for you. Twenty one. Right. You listening Sigmund.”

“I’m pushing thirty and feel like I’m pushing forty but I’m listening Al.”

“She’s gorgeous. Really gorgeous. So I’m sending her over. If I was just ten years younger I wouldn’t do it. I’d keep fighting. Now you treat her right. She’s a good girl. And she’s a real lady.”

“Hey Al for christ’s sake wait a minute. Thanks a lot but I got a surplus supply already here right down in the basement.”

“Sigmund. Have I ever lied to you.”

“No.”

“Well I’m going to repeat for you just once more. She is the most lovely creature who has ever put foot over my threshold. So don’t make me say it again.”

“Send her over Al, for christ’s sake, but not till Wednesday.”

“It’s got to be right now Sigmund.”

“Now, Jesus, what’s the hurry.”

“The hurry is her gorgeous beauty. Before someone else discovers it. So let me ask her first. Hey honey you want to go over right away. She’s thinking about it Sigmund.”

“Well tell her to fucks sake make up her mind. I already got a job trying to kick this au pair out and after what I’ve been going through, my prick’s not exactly knocking the plaster out of the wall.”

“She says O.K. Sigmund. And I’m putting her straight in a taxi. Now you treat her right. Remember she still works for me. You got that.”

“Got it Al.”

Locking the Dutch au pair in the basement with a whole new batch of holey socks, Schultz tore off his dressing gown as he rushed up three steps at a time to his bathroom to shave, shower and dress. When the taxi let the promised gorgeous creature out, Schultz was at his front bedroom window watching the jet black Ambassador across the street board his black chauffeured limousine in his best striped bow tie. And Schultz could see nothing of her under her wide brimmed deep purple head gear.

“Jesus christ almighty she’s dressed like she’s going to a funeral.”

Checking to see his fly was closed, Schultz rushed down two steps at a time to let this female person smilingly in. She was not exactly what Schultz had expected. Dressed as she was in shiny black high heels, a black suit, frills on her purple blouse front and her hat big enough for Ascot. But with her face framed with black gleaming wavy hair to her shoulders and the most amazing large green almond eyes set in the softest creamiest skin, she was as Big Al had said, really gorgeous.

“I’m Sigmund Schultz, come on in.”

“I’m Pricilla and I’ve heard so much about you.”

Schultz sat her on the edge of the just barely discernibly imitation reproduction Louis the Fifteenth gilt wood chair in his panelled drawing room. Her nice round knees held together carefully under her skirt and her long pleasant curvaceous legs leaning and overlapping to the side.

“This is a very nice place you have here, Mr. Schultz.”

“Well it’s just a kind of temporary convenience to rattle around in.”

“I think it’s very very nice.”

“Let me get you something to drink.”

“Well just something like a mineral water please.”

“Sure.”

Schultz who did not dare to unlock the door to the basement kitchen gave this increasingly gorgeous looking creature a sulfurously stale orange flavoured drink fetched out of the dining room cupboard. Which solitary bottle astonishingly had not been overlooked by the owners in their long itemised list of furnishings. Plus one dare not go down into the kitchen for fresher stuff where, while sewing her fingers to the bone, the poor Dutch au pair was also sobbing in despair.

“I especially Mr. Schultz, like your decor and objets d’art.”

“Well it serves the purpose I guess.”

“No I really like it. But isn’t this awfully big, this house for just one person.”

This was this gorgeous creature’s remark as she looked up from her poisonous drink and at the mellow illuminated panelling. And Schultz catching his breath at the swellings as her jacket opened, took her on a brief tour of the library and dining room, where her appreciative attitude continued. Schultz reassured when she stopped to glance at four icons which were genuine, having been bequeathed to Schultz by his mother’s grandfather who had brought them to Woonsocket from Prague.

“I do honestly like the old atmosphere.”

They went that evening to dine at the Savoy. Arriving sheltered from the rain, under this hotel’s gleaming blue and green neon lighted entrance. Ushered across the soft carpeted spaciousness. To a table where, as the lights of tugboats passed on the river, Schultz discovered this stunning dish had an equally stunning and expensive appetite.

“Hey honey, don’t worry a bit, I mean it, go right ahead. The caviar is delicious here. Have a third helping.”

And upon returning to the environs of Belgrave Square he also discovered that the Dutch girl had a temper. Thumping and pounding as she now was the kitchen ceiling with a broom handle. Just as Schultz was pushing and pulling his new honey baby, as he temporarily called her, along the hallway and up the stairs towards the bedroom. As Big Ben chimed midnight.

“Come on honey baby. I’m not going to hurt you.”

And it took till the booming bell tolled a solitary one a.m. for Schultz on the way to his bedroom, to reach the first landing. Where he stood, panting, with one hand inside her blouse and his other up her skirt.

“Honey baby, come on. You’re gorgeous. You really are. Don’t let’s waste a night like this.”

A last desperate frenzied assault upon her virtue was made by Schultz when he tripped her backwards and they both fell. She suddenly flailing and writhing, and not only kneeing Schultz in the testicles but kicking a pilaster upon which a white marble bust of some Roman Emperor perched.