‘O dear. But you mustn’t get upset over such a trifling matter. Why not just pay it.’
‘Because I’m bloody well broke, that’s why.’
‘Well you need only need get my chequebook.
‘What do you mean.’
‘I’ll pay it for you. Or are you too proud for that perhaps.’
‘If you must know, I am, as a matter of fact.’
‘Dear me this does make it such a nice little predicament for you doesn’t it. Your prick itching for years and now you’ve at last made love to me. Do please don’t stop your grooming. Or had I not to use that romantic word love. Reminds me of a story of my childhood. Just in case dear boy you’d like to know of my growing up among the gentry as a little innocent girl. Of course this is before foxhunting became finally my entrée, if one can call it that, into the fringes of county society. And you were hardly then out of your layette. It was on a beautiful warm sunny summer’s day that your sisters were holding a dansant at Andromeda Park. A tea dance of course but so described in French on one of the engraved invitations which I was not sent. Of course my mother insisted it was an oversight. That I had every right to present myself to the Darcy Thormond Kildares. And so, unbidden, having come all the way out from town, in my best frilly party dress and party shoes and pushed by our handyman up your front steps, and quite trembling in terror already, your sister Christabel saw me, and imperiously levelling her arm and pointing her finger in my direction, said, in about the loudest voice I shall ever hear for the rest of my life. I did not invite her. Of course someone did come after me. But I had already run in hysterics. Right out across your front lawn. I even had a present to present. I ended up being found in the bog unconscious with exhaustion. My gift still clutched to my breast. And which I still carry with me. Wherever I go in this world. You will find it there. In my toiletry purse. And next to my chequebook.’
A scribble
Upon which
Can buy
You now
24
The pair of Americans descending in the lift. My god, one can’t possibly conceive of an entire nation just like them. Preparing for an excursion to Glendalough. From which by the uncertain tone of their voices they think they might never return. Little do they know of course that they are highly unlikely to ever get there in the first place. As the bus due to leave has, by my reckoning, already left from outside the gentlemen’s convenience in Stephen’s Green.
Rashers in a trice would have counselled me in this moment of spiritual dread. I’ve been bought. Dear boy but of course you have. Take her money as a temporary emolument enabling you to keep both your head and prick up while you regain your financial feet. Baptista sitting up in bed signed the cheque on the desk blotter. Her breasts hovering over the pink tinged slip of paper like the most formidable mountain range. I suggested that perhaps it was time she decamped to her own apartments, before we became the subject of gossip.
‘Pity it worries you. But I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks and certainly not nosy little skivvies running around an hotel. And of course you are coming to Paris with me.’
‘Am I.’
‘Yes. You are. I’m having some riding boots and some dresses made.’
‘And if I don’t.’
‘Well, shall I tear this up.’
Severe lobby traffic for lunch. Count MacBuzuranti not even noticing me, sweeping by in his flowing scarf and polo coat. Champagne corks already popping. Parties preparing to depart for the races. And whoops. The cavalry Colonel. Growling at tourists in his way. Monocle glinting. As I disappear. To come rapping at this Manager’s door. Without even a cup of coffee to cheer up an empty stomach. Carrying Baptista’s massive revenge. A tiny piece of paper in my pocket. Her childhood gift a small silver spoon. Come in. Compelled to enter in here. As if facing a headmaster. Or worse, like a common travelling salesman. Desperately in need of chiropody.
‘So sorry to have had to ask you to call in Mr Kildare.’
The Manager still smiling. Perhaps I should be sporting a red polka dot bow tie. And a tight shiny suit. Befitting my new station of kept man. He is even getting up from behind his desk. My god it almost seems as if, were I to reach out, he would shake my hand. Suppose when one’s bill is big enough, it requires of him to exhibit a certain pretence of happy calm. My previous planned story was to simply tell him I was soon selling prime cattle mooing already on their way in on the train. Now must in the most casual tones present this blatant cheque, which risks painting me as a professional male paid fornicator, and even unmitigated cad. Not to mention gigolo, fancy man and other rankings much lower than gent. Explain the cheque as the signatory’s part payment on the price of a horse. Ha ha, rather convenient to pay my bill with it, you understand. My god he does have a monstrously fat envelope to hand me. Obviously detailing everything but ladies’ hairdressing and including all Rashers’ enormous breakfasts and pre lunch champagnes, cigars and lunch and god knows what else.
‘0. No need yet, ha ha Mr Kildare to settle your account. Ha ha. Plenty of time enough now for that. But as you see, I dare not entrust this to you in any other way. As given me, it was attached together with a rubber band. Hope you don’t mind that we’ve enclosed it in this envelope. But it is a rather large sum of money.’
‘I see.’
Of course I didn’t actually see or know what on earth he was talking about. However as one does at such moments, I tried to show as much of my nervous teeth as possible. Reached to take the heavy envelope and did with the left hand quietly lower Baptista’s cheque previously tendered, stuffing it deeply into one’s pocket. While listening avidly.
‘It was delivered some considerable days ago with this letter by a young lady who left no name. If I may perhaps take the liberty to say, an extremely beautiful and charming young lady. Would you mind just signing this receipt for me please, Mr Kildare.’
‘Yes of course.’
‘Do hope that in spite of last night’s incident in the hall, you are enjoying your stay here with us. And that you are entirely comfortable.’
‘Yes I am thank you.’
‘As ridiculous as it sounds I believe the lady in the lobby was simply agitated by some phenomenon she said she’d seen. At a chiropodist’s of all places. Can you imagine anything so daft. Suppose it’s what we must expect these days.’
‘Yes quite.’
‘We could if you like, still keep that in our safe but I thought you might want to get it to the bank.’
‘Yes, I may in fact pop it in there.’
Darcy Dancer hurrying away. Out the hall. After the nods and smiles. Back into the lobby. Stop. Take a deep breath. Dear me. This place is a rogues’ gallery. My former sneaky agent just in the door. Plus Major Bottom, the hunt secretary heading into the dining room. And the damn sanitary supplier who assaulted me in my own front hall. Even the poet is skulking around. Whom I should have had arrested. Turn quick left. Left again. Secrete myself in the privacy of the residents’ lounge. Good god. This is a stack of bloody fivers. Some tens. Even fifties. And this letter. Here in my hand trembling. Such a lifetime ago that I first saw this neat fine penmanship so carefully propped up on my dressing table. Open it.
My dearest friend,
I wanted so much to talk to you before I did what I’ve done. And it was not to rob a bank, but I did win at the races. I thought I saw you there but when I finally pushed my way through the crowd towards you, you had gone. I looked around town and even went into pubs and places. Till I heard, too late, you were here. And I am leaving this as partial payment for the vase. Please never let us not be friends. I will always love you as I always have. And will always be there should you ever need me.