‘I must have at least three hot water bottles in my bed. And my hot toddy was cold last night. And please haven’t you got anyone available who knows how to lay out clothes. I don’t want to be late for the theatre again tonight.’
Baptista Consuelo sweeping her fur up to drape it over her shoulders. Hardly wasting a second to breeze past me with her most withering look. The soft silken lustre of her breasts in the light. Heading for the lift where she waited for it to descend again. Making, as she turned around, a rather too large an effort to ignore me.
Next morning on my breakfast table a note, compliments of the Manager to communicate with him. Wouldn’t one know it was time to be evicted for non payment of my bill. And following my bath and a long look out at the mountains, I thought why not go out into the elements before Rashers appeared and purloined me off to the races. Or the glooms descend as I think of Leila, not knowing where she is and in whose arms she may lie clutched. Go instead to mend some social fences. And in a moment of sunshine one strode through the busy morning pedestrians down Grafton Street. A time of day when a hint of prosperity seemed afoot. Through these shop doors. But Miss von B, she was so bloody icy. Making me speechless trying to expiate my unpardonable rudeness. In fact it’s exactly how I put it.
‘Please I do beg you forgive me for my unpardonable rudeness. I am quite speechless attempting an apology. But I was waylaid by the Count on my way back from visiting Mr Arland whose plight in an appalling room the worst end of Mount Street is desperate.’
She did not exactly snub me but entertained the first opportunity of a customer taking her attention. Leaving me standing there far too close to the edge of the ladies’ lingerie department. With one fat female acting as if one were focusing binoculars on her while she was being measured up for her monster sized whale bone corsets. I ventured for a quick reconnoitre of the delft department and returned after I thought Miss von B might have got her little revenge out of her system. I even attempted to impress her.
‘Lois the accomplished and very fashionable artist is to do my full portrait. Mounted.’
‘Vas mounted.’
‘On my horse of course.’
‘Ha ha vas a good joke. That you should keep quiet about. She has been mounted. By all zee pricks in Dublin. And I suppose of course she is taking up residence in Andromeda Park to do it.’
‘What an awfully vulgar thing of you to asperse. She happens to be a very fine artist whose work is much sought after by Americans. And I think you are just jealous.’
One was of course planning to invite Miss von B for coffee at the Oriental Café up the street. And to find out where she lived. And if she had a bowl we could both eat out of, and a bed we could both get into. But instead, worried out of my mind that indeed if Lois was mounted by everyone in Dublin, as indeed I really knew she must be, one was bound to have a grave social disease. I went back up the Green. Imagining my shrivelled testicles dropping off down my trouser leg and being squashed on the wooden street blocks by a motor vehicle. With no one to pass the time of day with, one realized one needed swift distraction. And I did present myself into one’s grocer. Stepping over the well worn granite step. Pushing on the brass handle. Open these mahogany and glass gleaming doors. To be greeted by the white coated, smiling manager.
‘Good morning sir. How nice to see you. My it’s been a considerable time since we had the pleasure.’
‘Yes. Indeed I think it has, hasn’t it. I’m just popping in rather to peek about, as it were.’
‘But of course, please. We’re getting now many of what one might refer to as some very nice exotics indeed. And your order including the bananas and pineapples just in this morning is entirely ready. Ah you’d nearly think it was her Ladyship herself back at Andromeda Park. Shall I add another tin of the caviar, our very last. There’d be every bit of two pounds of the best Beluga in it. First we’ve had for years. Two were sent last week.’
‘I don’t believe I have in fact ordered anything. Certainly not caviar.’
‘O but you have sir. But of course please do let me check. Yes. Now there was last week’s. Here we are, Andromeda Park. I knew I was not mistaken on the caviar. Even in such a substantial order. Ready to be taken to the station to be sent down on the afternoon train. Now just among some of the items, sir. Four charcoal cooked hams. Three dozen tins of our terrine of goose liver with truffles. Three dozen tins of our páté maison with green peppercorns, petits fours, toffee assortments, mint humbugs, selection of marmalades, our own apricot and almond. Four dozen of our own jars of chicken breasts in aspic.’
‘Good lord.’
‘Is there something wrong sir. We’ve even succeeded in getting some double Devon fudge for you.’
‘I think more than possibly yes there is something wrong. I most certainly haven’t ordered one of those items including double Devon fudge.’
‘O dear sir. But I myself spoke with your Mr Crooks.’
‘Spoke.’
‘Yes on the telephone.’
‘I don’t have a telephone.’
‘Might he have called from the town. I know his voice, Mr Kildare.’
Tears in Mr Hamilton’s eyes. Of course no need to get one’s grocer as alarmed as oneself. And certainly one could not give him offence. Nor could one make him think I was a ninny and one’s butler a nut. Better to promptly reel out of Smyth’s of the Green. Attempt to erase from one’s mind the columns upon columns of itemized figures in the flowing embellished script. Fancy victuals listed as long as your arm. Click clacking on the train to Andromeda Park. In my utter absence. Extravagances behind my back. Seeing with one’s own eyes, caviar, smoked salmon, even wines, port, even bloody hams and bacon sides which at least could have been provided from one’s own bloody pig pens. It only confirms, as one was already convinced, that the whole world is against one. And one always did, with the exception of Sexton, Leila, and old Edna Annie, suspect the worst malingering whenever one saw a member of the household or estate not with their hands actively on some tool in violent motion. Impoverishment does deepen loneliness. Now nearly reaching a pitch where I’ll soon be street dramatizing like Horatio the actor. Screaming incoherently at baskets of brown eggs in shop windows. Instead of walking smack into Rashers, equine journals under his arm, a bright crimson carnation in his button hole, his black silk tie decorated with tiny white diamond shapes, and his mouth grinning from ear to ear.
‘Ah my dear Darcy, missed you for breakfast. Dear me you do look a mite peakedly poorly.’
‘I am.’
One thing had to be said for Rashers. His mind was certainly alert to savouring mention of a long list of fancy edibles, his eyes sparkling and his tongue licking his lips. And he listened to one with such sympathy, one was nearly sorry one had only one disaster to unfold.
‘Ah but calm dear boy, calm. Your grocery bill I’m sure can last a year or two on credit. But there is one wonderful aspect your complaint has from which you should take much comfort.’
‘I would certainly like to know what it is.’
‘Ah hasn’t it dawned on you.’
‘No. It has not.’
‘Well, for a distinct change, it is not I who is responsible.’
Of course I immediately did conjure up Rashers imitating Crooks into his hotel phone. But one’s suspicions waned as I could sense his mind was miles away. And towards the top of Dawson Street, strolling through the coffee bound mid morning stream of solicitors, bank clerks, and accountants, Rashers stopped to purchase a bouquet of red roses. And one was nearly too embarrassed to inquire of him if an utter nymphomaniac like Lois could have lodged up one’s urethra a fatal long simmering microbe. But I did ask.