The Onion Eaters (17 page)

‘Keep your eyes off that.’

‘Only a minute ago you were panting telling me to pull on it.’

‘What’s that laughing.’

‘It’s not me I can assure you.’

‘I heard something. Over there beyond in the orchard.’

‘It’d be some old beast having a cough from worms.’

‘That’s laughter now. That I’m hearing. By God I’ll fix that.’

Padrick buttoning and hitching up trousers. Tying tight the twine around his coat. Heading out crashing through the briars and up over the wall. The shadow of Clarence loping like a kangaroo beyond the trees. And speedily upwards
into the grey veils of mist hanging on the mountainside. Pursued by Padrick roaring.

‘I’ll break every last bone in your body youse.’

Two figures hurtling away feet throbbing on the rabbit clipped grass. Imelda spitting on her shawl and wiping the white stain with her knuckles. A grey blue sad beaked heron flaps up into the sky. Flying somewhere to spear up more fish. Away from the roars of this recent holy ghost.

Moist balmy sea winds and stray sunshine. Pastures
exploding
green and the brown dark mountain turning blue. Cobwebs wiped from the library windows. Mushrooms
removed
from desk drawers. Newly sharpened pencils in an old caviar jar. And often one referred to the pair of
terrestrial
and celestial globes standing gleamingly polished between the windows. To find out where in god’s name I am.

Behind these locked library doors letters drafted to stave off evil demands for money. An inventory made of
candelabra,
fancy cushions, figurines, enamelled glass sweetmeat jars, copper cooking moulds, crystal goblets and silver tureens. And a gentleman called. Shown in by Percival. Kept folding his hands across his waistcoat and rocking gently on his heels.

‘Naturally we won’t know their value until we’ve had much of this examined by experts. But of course should you like to sell straight off unburdening yourself as it were of unwanted gewgaws and leaving the risk to us, we’d present to you a round figure.’

Percival following us through the state rooms past the worm eaten Sheraton, Chippendale and fading tattered tapestries. Under the crystal chandeliers of anterooms, over the thread worn carpets, cabinets, bureaux and stools. Past carved chimney pieces, panelling and galleries hung with paintings. A clock chimes mid morning another late
afternoon.

‘Of course it is very difficult to separate the better
imitations
from the outright fakes. But again if you’d rather get shut of the stuff, in a heap so to speak, and leave the risk to us, we would quote you a round sum.’

The gentleman sour and superior appraising the armour, crossbows, spears and shields in the great hall and raising his eyebrows over Franz’s excavation out of which a most sulphurous smell arose. He put his notes carefully in an inside pocket and regarding my tennis sneakers with some disdain, lifted his chin and lofted out the vowels.

‘Of course you know were you titled that would help
considerably.’

Erconwald feeding frogs to the mambas saw us passing through to the servants’ hall and beyond to the stables and harness room to examine brass and leathers once
resplendent
on the now demolished state coach mouldering in the courtyard. He came knocking on my locked door after the gentleman’s departure. Moisture welling in the eyes.

‘Ah good person. My word is humble but I hope no less listened to for that. I could not help but overhear a
discussion
concerning the sale of some of the treasures
adorning
this ancient historic residence.’

‘I’m cleaned out financially Erconwald. And I’m up to my skull top in debt. And I’ve got to sell.’

‘Noble kind sir, debt is merely a token of another’s early esteem bestowed upon the promise of later riches which I know deservingly will come your way. I exhort you not to sell.’

‘Erconwald. There is a constant cascade of whole meal bread, barmbrack, bacon, ham, eggs and mineral waters into this castle which as soon as it arrives is descended upon by the inmates with an agility which one can only describe as disheartening. The staff are going out of their minds finding hiding places. Half way up to my room Charlene left my breakfast tray in the corridor to investigate a strange noise and a minute later when she got back it was gone.’

Erconwald slowly bowing his head. Knitting hands in front of him. Eyes cast down on sandals. Sported with bright orange socks. Which. Good Lord. Are mine.

‘Words you speak, good person, are both true and sad.’

‘And I see, soon as you have the tyres back on your car Franz has taken out the engine and dismantled the entire thing all over the grass out there.’

‘He is restoring some missing horsepower. And please, perhaps while that is being done might you not forsake your timidity regarding our enquiries relative to your gonadal uniqueness. Had these been blown from your good person by the dining hall blast or sent up into the
peritoneum
by your bull Toro we should have been forever deprived of a marvel of nature.’

And in the gloom of that late afternoon Erconwald further suggested that I avail myself of the Baron who would be glad to undertake social duties if allowed to sit and read in the library. Where Percival at intervals of the day came bearing news of the latest in the castle. And to see if there was still an outside world I sent him off to the town for a paper. Which arrived back with a month old outside sheet covering pages inside of two years ago.

‘Sure what does it matter sir, news is news no matter the date it comes. But up to the minute now, there’s a man waiting to see you. Won’t disclose his business, he says it’s urgent and confidential. Shall I show him in sir.’

A curly headed man in a raincoat, hair parted down the middle. Blue eyed under a great broad expanse of brow. A stub of cigarette smoking from a long sleeve at his side. Moving smoothly across the floor and glancing back over his shoulder at Percival and at the Baron seated studying moves at the chess table. Nervously putting forth his hand as I reach to shake his soft one. A yellow sweater and grey jacket under his open coat, a tie just peeking from a rumpled white collar.

‘Are we alone, Mr Clementine.’

‘Yes. The Baron is my aide de camp.’

‘I understand. I am commandant Macdurex of the fourth tank division Western Army. I am here in
furtherance
of my orders issued by the supreme command of which you were notified in my letter. I am also in receipt of your letter in reply to mine. This is an institution of some sort.’

‘Won’t you sit down.’

‘I will thank you.’

‘Can I offer you something to drink.’

‘I would thank you but I’m on official business.’

‘Would you mind if I had a drink.’

‘Lower away. Quite a place you’ve got here.’

‘Yes it is.’

‘Must take a lot of looking after.’

‘Yes it does.’

‘Now I am bound to inform you that we have kept a precautionary watch on this premises and the intelligence report which has come to hand is not conclusive. I would appreciate your help. Are you a doctor.’

‘No.’

‘I take it there is a residential staff to look after the patients.’

‘No.’

Adjusting his monocle, the Baron looking up from his chess game. The bell of the courtyard clock gonging out eight o’clock. The commandant looking at his watch and taking a last puff from his stump of cigarette.

‘Is there not some risk seeing as you’ve had a blast here already.’

‘There are three scientists but not medically qualified. The occupants are guests.’

‘Voluntarily committed are they.’

‘I wouldn’t quite put it that way but certainly none of them have shown any signs of voluntarily leaving.’

‘Is that so. Most of your asylums, around this neck of the woods anyway, have a devil of a time to keep the inmates in. But if as you say they are content here, that’s all that matters. A little violence is to be expected. My troops could lend a hand.’

‘Commandant, I should be quite pleased if your troops drove the whole bunch of them right out.’

The monocle dropping from the Baron’s eye. Scars down his cheeks in the light. Courtyard clock now gonging three. Commandant Macdurex again regarding his wrist watch. Percival said that when he had the clock fixed it would be grand to have a time of day ready at your finger tips.

‘Mr Clementine I’m sure your patience must be tried
now and again but I could not take the responsibility of putting violent lunatics loose on the roads. Keeping them subdued inside the premises is one thing but chasing them every which way out over the countryside is another. One was seen running loose from here a while back hurdling stone walls chased by another going through the walls. Now that kind of antic would occupy a platoon of troops. But I am quite prepared to station men to quell uprising and the like.’

‘I would like that Commandant. How long will your troops be staying.’

‘Just the time it takes to rout out a foreigner over the hills there. A ferocious piece of work he is too. For security reasons I can’t discuss it at the moment. But I’ll have a drink now official business is done.’

The Baron pouring glass fulls from a decanter of malt. The wheaty aroma cutting through the damp smells. The commandant sitting back in his chair looking up at the high windows, across the book cases and panelled walls.

‘I’d say this would be an old place.’

‘Yes.’

‘And cold in the winter.’

‘And in the springtime too.’

‘Well a sup of this keeps down the chill. Nice to have books around. In my spare time I am a bit of a poet.’

‘Ah.’

‘Make an odd verse out of my everyday experience as you might say.’

‘I’d like to read one and I’m sure the Baron would too.’

‘Well while I’m stationed in this area and going into the town of a Saturday night the verse I have here on this little bit of envelope came to mind. It is called closing time.’

The commandant handing over an envelope. On one side an address, Colonel Sean Macdurex, GHQ, The Bivouac, The Crossroads and on the other a poem scrawled in a small tight hand.

‘That’s very nice.’

‘It was instant inspiration. I was changing pubs at the time. After the unholy upheaval out on the road with fists and boots flying I went into the hotel to get a little bit of peace among some decent law abiding foreign visitors having a game of bridge. I wasn’t a minute there before this ignorant lout with a pair of ears on him big enough he could flap and fly comes in. He charges straight across the lounge. Picks up the bridge table and slams it upside down on the floor just as your woman is bidding two no trumps. I thought to myself what kind of tales are those poor unfortunate travellers going to take with them back to their homelands. It was three good blows on the back of his spine with a piano stool before he was subdued.
Meanwhile
he’d pulled every picture down off the wall, put out every window with his fist and flung these respectable people’s drinks in their faces. Padrick he was called. Never a word did he say. This verse here was appropriately
composed
upon that occasion.’

Commandant Macdurex downed two large whiskies and suddenly stood up, clicking rubber heels with a thud and smartly saluting. The Baron jumping from his chair to attention and bowing. In the middle of this military
departure
my hand slipping where I was leaning on the desk.
The commandant spinning round swiftly reaching in
under
his coat. Towards a bulge. As I straightened up again a smile came over his lips and he gave a little nod of the head.

‘Mr Clementine we will be keeping in touch.’

The Baron in cut away coat and striped trousers, black shoe tips gleaming, opening the library door. The
commandant
falling into step as they clicked across the great hall. The Baron on his return said the commandant had challenged him to a game of chess.

Three days of sun in a row I spent bird watching from my turret. Thrilled by nature on the wing. While
Bloodmourn
could he heard passing along corridors with a crutch thumping on the floor. Rumours reaching one of body contact between himself and Rose. Percival said the exprisoners were standing guard outside Mrs L K L’s door, bringing in her food and bearing out her wastes. Bligh had locally collected children together and was teaching them folk songs gathered around a fire on the beach at night where they sang. He said he wanted to rehearse them to give a rendering in the chapel.

Charlene each morning stayed chatting longer and longer when she brought breakfast. Blue eyes smiling. Relating the castle backbiting, food thefts, slander and lies of the night before. Sleeves rolled back. Muscles flexing on her narrow white arms. And once as I told her to sit down she sat on the bed, her back towards me as she spoke over her shoulder. I reached out and her face flushed as I touched the little hard nobs up and down her spine. Next morning she came to sit again. And I put my hand up under her sweater and passed over each little vertebrae bumping under the smooth soft skin.

‘I like you doing that. It sends shivers and tingles all over me.’

‘I’m glad.’

‘So am I and you know what I heard. Imelda the other day. She was bent up double in the old kitchen against the pig curing trough and I thought she would fall in dying laughing. Took me the time it would take to cook an ox to
get the story out of her. Seems as she was larking about with two boys beyond telling them of a wondrous trick that a certain Padrick did do with his tool. And they said they could do the trick as well. With their own tool they said they had. Imelda goes back to Padrick and said ah so, it’s no trick you’ve been doing with that thing you have on you for every man in the parish is able to do the same trick as yourself. And Padrick says isn’t the trick easy enough to learn after someone sees you doing it and wasn’t the whole countryside watching the day he did it. It wasn’t till I told Imelda what it was Padrick showed her that she knew and she’s still down there in the kitchen not able to stop
laughing.
Dropped a whole pot of potatoes peeled for tonight. Said everytime she thinks of it she’s convulsed. That big blabber mouth’s chased me home over the fields many a time.’

‘Did he ever catch you.’

‘Not on your life I’m as fast as a deer. That is not to say that I haven’t had my experiences. Which maybe I’ll tell you sometime. I really look forward to our chats like this in the morning. It’s over stepping my place. When I’m only a servant.’

‘Unpaid.’

‘I’m not complaining. I won’t mention names but I can tell you that a lot goes on here that would make the devil himself green with envy.’