Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [130]
“Give me ten shillings,” said Drummond. His father fished four half crowns from his overalls pocket, handed them over, saw the plate was empty and stood up.
“Have some more sandwiches,” he told Duncan.
“No thanks, Mr. Drummond. That was good, but more would be too much.”
“Well, the cook’s a friend of mine. I’m not buying them and I’m not stealing them. You wouldn’t like some more?”
“No thanks, Mr. Drummond.”
“Duncan has to go now, Dad. We’ve an appointment. Would you like more coal?”
“If you can spare the time from your urgent appointment.”
A wooden hatch opened upon the coal heap outside. Thaw and Drummond pulled lumps onto the boiler-room floor with clumsy wooden rakes. Drummond shovelled them into the furnace and they left after washing their hands below a tap in the darkened yard.
They walked into the Cowcaddens and entered a close where the narrow stairs were worn to such a slant that the foot trod them uneasily. Thaw grew breathless and leaned a moment on a windowsill. He could see the flat back of a dingy church across a window box in which the soot-freckled crests of three stunted cauliflowers rose above a clump of weeds. On the top landing, Drummond pushed open a bright yellow door (the lock was broken), stuck his head inside and shouted, “Ma!” After a moment he said, “Come in, Duncan. I have to be careful in case my mother’s at home. If she dislikes someone she’s liable to retire to her bedroom and burn a pheasant’s tail feather.”
“What does that do?”
“I shudder to think.”
Thaw entered the queerest house he had ever seen. Parts of it were very like a home but these lay like valleys between piled furniture and objects salvaged from scrap heaps, middens and junk shops. As he edged into the kitchen he felt threatened by empty picture frames, stringless instruments and old wireless sets. The ceilings were loftier than in his own home but there was no open space and no planning.
“Excuse the mess,” said Drummond. “I haven’t had time to tidy up. I’m hoping to get a studio nearer the art school soon. What can we use?”
He began shifting things from in front of a cupboard. Thaw bent to help but Drummond said, “Leave it to me, Duncan. If you shift these I won’t know precisely where to find them.” When the cupboard door could be opened about twelve inches Drummond thrust his arm into the crevice and brought out, one at a time, a top hat, a Roman helmet, a pith helmet, a deerstalker, a mortarboard and an Indian feathered headdress, all with labels saying they belonged to the Acme Costume Hiring Agency.
“I used to work there,” said Drummond. “They stored their best things with an almost criminal carelessness.”
Drummond put on the top hat, a tail coat and spats. He cut himself a gleaming shirtfront, collar and cuffs from a sheet of glossy cardboard and fixed these in place with pins and drops of glue, then took a long pair of green rubber fangs from a drawer and inserted them carefully between his teeth and upper lip. He rubbed green greasepaint into his cheeks and, glaring balefully, asked with difficulty, “Dracula?”
“Oh yes,” said Thaw, nodding.
Drummond slipped the rubber teeth into his pocket and said, “Who do you want to be?”
“A sorcerer. But I’ll settle for an academic.”
He put on the mortarboard.
“Not enough,” said Drummond. “Go in there.”
He moved a tailor’s dummy and opened another door. Thaw entered a neat little room which clearly belonged to a woman. There were flowered curtains, striped wallpaper and a pink satin quilt on the bed. There was a scrolled and gilded bird cage, an ashtray shaped like a skull, and sweet peas blooming in a window box.
“Open the wardrobe,” commanded Drummond from outside. “I don’t think I should be here.”
“You should do exactly what I tell you.”
The wardrobe door was ajar and as Thaw opened it a ginger cat strolled out.
“Is there a black silk dressing gown among the coats to the right?” called Drummond.
“Yes.”
“Bring it here. Touch nothing else.”
Thaw returned to the chaotic kitchen. Drummond said, “Sorry, I would have fetched it myself but my mother made