‘You’re sacked. You’re drunk, you’re sacked.’
Smears in the most strange quasi military manner, marching out the door. And towards me the wrath was suddenly turned. With my hand still wrapped around a bottle of Crème de Menthe. But he thought the better of continuing the tirade. No doubt remembering the plight of his poor starving guests. Who if indeed they had an appetite left at all, certainly now could not care much in their blotto state.
‘You. You bring the roast beef up this instant.’
Of course outside of fox hunting and horses there’s hardly anything else in this world I know how to do, but at least I do know considerable about proper butlering. To which, would you believe it I had just been promoted. Although Mary the cook, even in her own wobbling inebriated state seemed sceptical about my sudden elevation in the servants’ ranks. Murmuring under her breath.
‘Ah it serves them right to have a stable lad bringing them their dinners.’
‘I beg your pardon, Mary, note my fine grand accent. Sure I’m as good a butler as Smears ever was.’
‘Never mind that smart lip you, Dancer O’Reilly. And get these roasts of beef up to them, sure as it is they’re all nearly a cinder they’ll be carving.’
The two hired in waiters poised to carve. One of whom during the early darkness of the short circuit I saw popping the more valuable and pocket sized pieces of cutlery into his pockets, which must have been specially tailored for the purpose, as the vast number of pieces disappearing hardly made a bulge in his coat. Any moment I waited for him to be anchored to the floor by their enormous weight. Of course the short circuit also in its way saved much more embarrassment not only for ladies who were thinking it so much more romantic in the candlelight but also because it hid momentarily the now totally rebellious and drunken staff from view. Some of the guests were rumoured very important and prominent in government and business circles. Including two inseparable Dublin actors who shouted above everyone else, and inaccurately quoted Shakespeare. And a most unkempt and inappropriately dressed Dublin poet who not only had his shoes off drying his unbelievable stinking feet under the table, but was also spitting over his arm behind him in a genuine effort it seemed to avoid spitting directly on the table. And then arms waving and roaring while the little string orchestra played lightly an operatic piece.
‘Ah jasus will you give us a jig instead of that.’
The seemingly honest hired in waiter kept nudging me unpleasantly in the ribs, pointing out the two Dublin actors.
‘Look at them will ya look at the pair of them. Sure they’d jump on you as fast as they’d jump on each other.’
The evening temporarily seemed to settle down. Except a very sweaty recovered Assumpta was getting her passing bosom felt by the poet who kept grabbing at it between his yawns and barely disguised insults levelled at his host’s nouveau riche attempts to curry favour with the true cultured members of the Irish intelligentsia.
‘Ah you’re phonys, phonys, the lot of you.’
One did shut him up however serving out a grossly overcooked slab of roast beef. Upon which he fell like a ravening dog. Gobbling it straight off the plate with the peas as well. One of which flew from his lips and popped neatly down a lady’s décolletage. He of course went after it. And she behaved as if she were being raped. Which she was. With the gravy I held over her tipped over the two of them. Astonishingly at first no one appeared to notice the poet wrestling the lady straight to the floor, so busy were they all attempting to impress someone further down the table and all leaning forward to do so. And the poet was at the lady dog style as she tried to escape under the table. Fortunately everyone was of a class who would never mix with one’s own otherwise one would be sure to be recognized. And be mortified. As the entire table lifted right up from the floor in front of the ruddy guests’ eyes. With cutlery, food and wine sliding off upon those on the downward sloped side. With the poet underneath roaring.
‘Come here now till I get that pea.’
Or you
Whore
I’ll chase you
Till kingdom
Come
24
The débâcle took days to calm down. With Smears barricaded in his room threatening to sue for wrongful dismissal and grevious disparagement of his capabilities in the performance of his profession. And with the extensive repairs required to where the poet had rutted, butted and seemingly pissed his way round the dining room with his shouts of yous is all whores everyone one of yous. And where now white coated I actually was serving the master and mistress these few perilous nights at a singularly gloomy table. As well as bringing food up to a bloody complaining Smears.
‘Damn it O’Reilly where’s the smoked salmon I requested. You don’t think I’m going to eat the same slops as that pair of social upstarts down there.’
I was while devouring plenty of bananas, rather enjoying it all. And one might even venture to say that there was hardly anyone anywhere who could bow and scrape with such menial servitude as I could. Is the tea to your liking madam. Is the toast just right. Of course the mistress was stunned by my seeming transformation from a horse piss soaked stable lad to major domo and there were dangerous moments when both the master and mistress thought I was taking the mickey out of them. But I do believe they revelled so much in being treated with such obedient doormat solicitude that they finally were convinced they merited it.
‘That will be sufficient unto our needs of the moment, O’Reilly. We’ll ring when requiring you further.’
‘Very good madam.’
My brief temporary status really improved my prospects in the big brown eyes of Assumpta. Who with her big bosoms, every groom in the stable yard was panting after. And in our hour and a half free after lunch, I airily took her walking. While having the dumbest imaginable conversations. With our interests utterly dissimilar. And not even agreeing on the colour of the sky. But she could gab when she got going. Of how we could go as a pair in service, me butlering, she as a lady’s maid. She had of course since I was promoted out of the stables, also elevated herself up from kitchen maid. The only dangerous thing about such thoughts was I found myself actually considering the prospect.
‘Ah now you’d be answering door to the important people arriving and I would be bringing to her her ladyship’s shoes she’d selected.’
Once we got a bit out into the woods my present randy concern for her ample body drove such plans out of one’s mind. Especially during our prolonged desperate physical struggles which went on for seeming hours. Until finally I was able to overpower her astonishingly strong flailing arms and legs to trip her down into the wet grass. To do what I could up her dress between her bulging thighs with all her kicking and praying to St John the Baptist over my still thoroughly Protestant shoulder. And as I felt, squeezed and twisted towards naked flesh, came her boring constant refrain.
‘Aren’t you the blue eyed bold lad now.’
As well as all the time saying would I marry her. After what I was doing. Which was actually ripping her pants in tatters right off her. Or else she’d have the master of the house, the parish priest, her brothers, sisters, uncles from Cavan, and aunts from Mayo who were nuns, all assemble to make me. But despite my endless wrestlings no how could I get my penis in her. And all she’d wide eyed say as I knelt muddy kneed wanking over her.
‘What’s that funny white stuff coming out of you.’
And then she thoroughly ignored me. When a week previous I had again been demoted out of the house by the arrival of a new butler. And on this Saturday noon. The sun higher, the evening light lengthening. A first hint of spring in the balmy air. And following my ninth week of hiding my wages behind a loose stone in the loft wall, and hearing that Assumpta thought I’d given her a baby by lying on top of her, I was rather just about to panic and depart altogether when the master’s big splendid motor car recently removed from blocks in the garage and newly polished early that morning, came speeding up along the drive. I could see the mistress and a young man step out just as I was collecting from the field the two enemy mares. And Tom the groom acting as chauffeur carried luggage up the steps behind them to the waiting hands of the new butler. A sheepish cowering type who sneaked and lurked around the house digging his fingers in his nose and ears while tabulating the number of bananas I made disappear. And because I regarded him with more than mild displeasure and he regarded Assumpta with more than middling lust, he demanded and was all too eagerly granted the favour of my departure back to the stables.