The Ginger Man (20 page)

"It's so very good, Miss Frost Now there's another shop on the Pembroke Road that sells a meat that would put ten years on your life. Need a little garlic"

"O no, Mr. Dangerfield. Garlic?"

"Why yes, Miss Frost, garlic, of course garlic."

"But it smells."

"That's what we want, Miss Frost We want that smell. O I'm going to see some times yet I'm thinking seriously of buying a large new cup for the breakfast. I love breakfast Going to be a few changes made. A lot of changes. Some big. Some small. Miss Frost, can I rely on you not to spill a bean or utter a word? Can I? Even though they take the hook to you and other Irish instruments as well, yes?"

"Yes."

"Miss Frost, this is top secret, an affair of state the like of which would finish Ireland were it ever to get out, and me as well. I'm going to London on Friday."

"You're not"

"lam."

"What will you do?"

"A few little things. General clearance. Need a little rest from tension. Few matters need clearing up, tiny grains of sand in the vaseline. Miss Frost, I like you very much. Do you know that?"

"O Mr. Dangerfield. But I don't know about all that's happened. I like you."

''Know what, Miss Frost?"

"Between us and things"

"Tell me."

"I don't know. Sometimes I feel I'm right and then I don't know what's going to become of me. In my church it's a mortal sin. God forgive me I wish it weren't true and that it was all a pack of lies. And they watch me in the shop. If it's ever found out, I think I'm going to die and with this sin I'd be doomed forever to hell."

"Have a little more, Miss Frost."

Filling her glass with brandy.

"No more than that, please."

"Tell me now."

"And a country like this has nothing for a girl like me. That I won't be able to get married until I'm too old and they want so much money and a farm and anything they can lay their hands on. That's all they ever look for is the money. You're one of the first people I've ever met for whom money doesn't mean everything."

"Well, I don't know, really, I wouldn't say that was entirely true, Miss Frost."

"This isn't a country for women."

"I would say that was true."

"And I've had horrible dreams. They frighten me. I don't think we should do it ever again. I wish I could go away. I know they are talking about me at work."

"Now Miss Frost, don't let these little things upset you. Don't let them do that."

"But it's more than that."

"Nothing is more than that."

"If someone gets word that I'm living alone with you in this house without Mrs. Dangerfield here, it would be the end of me. And they find out, they don't miss anything. They would go to the priest, and he would be down here in a minute."

"So long as there's drink, we're right for him, Miss Frost Take it from me."

"I've seen people watching"

"When?"

"For a long time from across the street"

"Strollers."

"O spies, Mr. Dangerfield. I know."

"Now, now, a little of this sausage. Everything is going to be all right, Miss Frost. Not a thing to worry about, good days ahead. Beep beep. Days of richness."

Sebastian leaned back in his chair and looked at the eyes of Miss Frost. Short hairs growing from the sides of her head. And around your nose the flesh turns up. Something I've never noticed before. I think you are just a little girl, Miss Frost. That's what you are. You need to be held, that's all. Come let me hold you in my own little forest where the crows are crying down all the trees. And into the big doors of my house. O they're thick to keep them out. Because you don't want people, trust none of them. I think I want it in bronze for weight and looks, with good quality brass hinges. See it. Dangerfield. Big S.D. on it. Keep people like Skully away. I say, Skully, would you mind awfully getting out of the way while my man closes this good door. Clang. What relief. No one will ever know the great relief to have these people shut out. Or a walled-in garden. Walls forty feet high and I think the three-foot thickness for strength. Hundred acres of it. Boxwood mazes for me to get lost in. Monkey trees. Magnolias and odd yew. My heart is mended and splendid under the yew tree. And then there will be lots of bells. And bells are balls. All balls bells. Big ones and little ones hanging all over. Ring them. Ring them out like mad. Me the mystic maniac. Fill my wholesome little garden with sound and the child in me crawling around the garden floor while my bells ring and birds sing and all the fluttering in me dances down, filled with all the silences and I'll sit thinking in the rare light and this part of me I can hang in the trees.

"Mr. Dangerfield, why don't you believe in hell and things like that?"

"Hell is for poor people"

"Hee."

"Miss Frost, I think I am a man with a future. What do you think ? Do you think I have a future ?
"

"Of course, I think you have a good future. You'll be in law"

"And the jigs and jail and incognito. All those"

"I think you would do well in almost anything, Mr. Dangerfield. I think business would especially suit you"

"I think we will get on with the meat, Miss Frost I have a hunger on me that has me belly screaming my throat's cut"

"O Mr. Dangerfield."

"Thank God up there for codes, Miss Frost Get down there now on your knees and thank him and for the meat as well. All down on our knees. But never hit a man when he's down. Wait to see if he tries to get up and then by God, let him have it The sledge between the eyes. I think my unlimited faith is killing me, Miss Frost I want to chop this house down."

"I don't believe a word you're saying."

"A little underdone. Rawness of all types is for me."

Miss Frost moving the pan, circling it over the fire. Exhaling sound of gas. At the peak hours. The despair of the fading pressure. These damn people in the gas works. No one wants to do a decent day's work anymore.

"You're so strange to be with,
Mr.
Dangerfield."

"You can't mean that, Miss Frost"

"You're not like other people."

"Well, geek, geek and all that. Perhaps there is some truth in what you say."

"Mr. Dangerfield, would you pass me your plate. Why do you water that little plant in the front with an eye dropper?"

"Miss Frost, you've been spying on me. On me in my secret moments."

"O I haven't But why do you do such a funny thing?"

"I'm poisoning the plant"

"Lord save us."

"Now look at that plant out there, Miss Frost Would you say it was much longer for this world?"

"O Mr. Dangerfield I don't know what to say. That poor plant"

"It's something in me, Miss Frost I thought to myself why don't I slip this plant something to kill it"

"You don't mean that"

"I'm a killer"

In the air the smell of spiced meat and brandy. A soft slow whistle of wind bleeding under the doors. And in my heart a sorrow. First sorrow of the end. Of this strange week of things. Of plans and movements. Of seeing the wild beast O'Keefe. Of these uncanny bedlam moments in the streets. Everything fruiting in a cold winter week. Months of being in the bed with the bedclothes all twisted with my anxiety. The wild things that were going through my mind like storms, I'd wake up my legs spinning round in the freezing air. I need another body with me. I've tried the hot towel on the eyes and made meself some balm but with these trickly chemicals you've got to watch it. I tried mustard plaster all over me and I won't forget that blunder in a hurry or even ever. But I'm not badly off. Not complaining really. Just wouldn't mind a complete change.

Miss Frost and Sebastian Dangerfield sat in this cold dining room eating sausage meat from Bray and drinking a pot of tea. Across from one another, looking up and down to food and back to each other's face. Smiles.

Is this no longer home ? I feel all my homes are behind me. Only a house here because I think I must have nearly pawned everything in it except Miss Frost. The Rock gone. The Balscaddoon. The Rock, The Doon and Trinity. And that first day there when I got off at the back gate out of the green upholstered tram. And there was the university through my apprehensive eyes. A chill wind blowing. My new suit, white shirt and black tie. I felt all dressed up for failure, but feeling important because they were looking at me. There's the porter's lodge and a parking lot and in this building I see the contortions of glass, bubbling pots and skylights poking out of the root I want so much to learn. To know what you do with acids and esters and make my experiments go pop at the right time like the rest of you. From the very first word you tell me I'm going to remember. On my way to my tutor. Through these playing fields, flat green and velvet. How lovely with benches where I can sit watching, reading, or anything under these old trees. I think late summer is still hanging in the sky. And by these flower beds still smelling, into this pretty square where the opulent members of college live behind granite and big windows. That's for me. I see a man filling a pail of water from a green pump. He salutes me with a wave. How can I make a good impression, tuck my tie in, smile perhaps. I hope they will see I'm eager, ardent to listen, ready to take notes for all four years. That building there must be the library because I can see the stacks and stacks. I will borrow and read. I promise. What luck has brought me here because it's so beautiful. I'm told scholars can play marbles on the dining hall steps and shoot birds in college park. Got some great rules. Perhaps some day will see me shooting with the best of them. There are little clusters of students and I can hear their beautiful voices as I go by. And I can't help but look from face to face seeking out those who will also fail. The rest of my natural life without a degree. I almost wish now some little white angels would flutter down and take me or my dread away. Across the cobbled square a bell ringing and into this building number eight. Up the foot carved stairs where I see an open door. I'll knock lightly so's not to be rude. Hands out of pockets. Do the right thing. Always wait till asked. Come in. From behind the door he's telling me to come in. How shall I do it without making noise with my heels. I said as best I could that I was Dangerfield and he said ah delighted, do come in. Piles of papers everywhere and books. Must have been like this since God. Great waves of hair on this man's handsome head, a scholar in Greek and Latin for sure. Ah Dangerfield, I'm very glad you're here and I trust your trip across the Atlantic was pleasant My God, this gentleman is telling me he is glad I'm here and what can I say. I can say nothing, there's no chat in me because I'm trembling. I hope it won't mean some awful thing is to happen. He's only being nice and saying, now Dangerfield, I would like you to meet Harrington, it is Hartington, isn't it? And this tall person standing in a shadow stepped out, said yes and offered me his hand. You're to attend the same classes together. I tried to say splendid, couldn't and said safely how do you do. Our tutor rustled in the papers, came out with pamphlets and said I hope you will be very happy with us here Mr. Dangerfield. And now what could I say, trapped on this casual note of friendship. I did so want them to know that I knew I would be, but it was too late, no space left to tell them I was overjoyed to silence. On that cold morning in October I came away from that old room filled with books and paper with this strange tall person walking beside me who asked softly and slowly won't you come and have coffee. I was scarcely able to say thank you I'd like to but I was smiling so pleasantly willing to please.

If there were music all the time. I can hear the tap in the bathroom. Miss Frost washing her hair. I'm finishing the brandy, I guess teetering on the edge of this chair. London a big city. I'll manage. Just let me get there, that's all. Just bring toothpaste. Pack it safely in a little bag. On the corner of Newton Avenue and Temple Road there is erected a cross to mark the end of the Pale. And I'm outside it now in more ways than one. I just hang my head forward, lick my lips because they are so dry and I see that the edge of this carpet has been destroyed by feet. My hand to my brow, and over my eyes. I've forgotten so much. Too much going on, too much confusion.1 just feel numb having fertilized. A moment of fatherhood comes at the birth. Malarkey told me all about it I think he'd like to see me fertilize more often, told me what a joy it was to have kids. Now I know. What a joy.

The bathroom basin gurgling out its water. Must be going down the Geary Road under the street and it will pour into Scotsman's Bay, Miss Frost will be twisting water from her hair. I know she uses vinegar in the rinse. From the bathroom, the shuffle of her slippered feet across the hall. Her door banging against the green chair. Dark furniture in her dark, damp room. Used to go in there and just look. So hidden away. Unrelated room. Touch the fabrics. This house at the end of the street. Little do you know out there, you strollers and spies perhaps, how much despair and yelling for love goes on in this shrouded house.

Miss Frost standing at the door in her thick, woolly robe, her green pajamas, her red slippers. Sebastian looked up slowly.

"You're so tired, Mr. Dangerfield. You look so tired."

Sebastian smiled.

"Yes. I am."

"Let me get you some chocolate before you come to bed."

"Miss Frost."

"Yes?"

"Miss Frost, you're kind."

"No."

"Miss Frost, I'm weary. What will you do when I'm gone? I'm worried about you."

"I don't know."

"Move somewhere else?"

"I guess so."

"Leave Ireland?"

"I don't know."

"Leave."

"It's a bit of an undertaking."

"Come with me, Miss Frost"

"You don't want me."

"Now don't say that."

Sebastian fell forward on his face. Miss Frost caught him beneath the arms and half lifted this light body to his feet She led him slowly and carefully to her bedroom. Lowering him to the edge of the bed. He sat there elbows on his thighs, hands hanging from his wrists.

Dreaming out this sunset Tacked up on a cross and looking down. A cradle of passive, mystifying sorrow. Flooded in tears. Never be too wise to cry. Or not take these things. Take them. Keep them safely. Out of them comes love.