The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [1]
"Look I've got to go and see my tutor and see if I can find out where they hold my Greek lectures. Nobody knows. everything is secret. No more drink for me. I'll come out over the weekend."
"Kenneth, I might have your first woman waiting for you."
"Yeah."
2
It was a steep hill up to Balscaddoon. Winding close to the houses and the neighbor's eyes having a look. Fog over the flat water. And the figure hunched up the road. On top it leveled and set in a concrete wall was a green door.
Within the doorway, smiles, wearing white golfing shoes and tan trousers suspended with bits of wire,
"By all means come in, Kenneth"
"Some place. What holds it up?"
"Faith."
O'Keefe went through the house. Opening doors, drawers, closets, flushing the toilet, lifting its lid, flushing it again. Stuck his head in the hall.
"Say this thing really works. If we had something to eat we'd be able to use it. They've got one of those big shops down there in the town, why don't you pop down with that English accent of yours and get some credit. As much as I like your company, Dangerfield, I'd prefer it on a full stomach."
"I'm up to my eyes already."
"And you don't look so hot in those clothes."
O'Keefe jumped on the floor of the drawing room. Pulled open the conservatory door, pinched the leaves of a dying plant and went out into the garden. Standing on the shaggy grass he gave a shrill whistle as he looked down precipitous rocks to the swells of sea many feet below. He went round the narrow back of the house, looking in the windows. In a bedroom he saw Dangerfield on his knees chopping a large blue blanket with an axe. He rushed back into the house.
"Jesus Christ, Dangerfield, what are you doing? Have you gone Asiatic?"
"Patience."
"But that's a good blanket Give it to me if you're going to chop it up"
"Now, Kenneth, watch me. See? Put this round the neck like this, tuck in the ragged edges and presto. Fm now wearing Trinity's rowing blue. Always best to provide a flippant subtlety when using class power. Now we'll see about a little credit."
"You shrewd bastard. I must admit it looks good"
"Make a fire in the stove. I'll be back"
"Get us a chicken"
"We'll see."
Dangerfield stepped out into a deserted Balscaddoon Road.
The counter was covered with rich sides of bacon and wicker baskets of bright eggs. Assistants, white aproned, behind the long counter. Bananas, green from the Canary Isles, blooming from the ceiling. Dangerfield stopping in front of a gray haired assistant who leans forward eagerly.
"Good day, sir. Can I be of any help?"
Dangerfield hesitating with pursed lips.
"Good day, yes. I would like to open up an account with you."
"Very good, sir. Will you please come this way."
The assistant opening a large ledger across the counter. Asking Dangerfield's name and address.
"Shall I bill you monthly or quarterly, sir?"
"I think quarterly."
"Would you like to take anything with you today, sir?"
Dangerfield caressing his teeth together, his eyes darting among the shelves.
"Do you have any Cork Gin?"
"Certainly, sir. Large or small size?"
"I think the large."
"And anything else, sir?"
"Do you have any Haig and Haig ? "
Assistant calling to the end of the shop. A small boy goes behind the scenes and comes out with a bottle. Dangerfield points to a ham.
"And how many pounds, sir?'.
"I'll take it all. And two pounds of cheese and a chicken"
Assistant all smiles and remarks. O it's the weather. Shocking fog. No day for them ones at sea or the others either. And clapping his hands to the little boy.
"Come here and carry the parcels for the gentleman. And a very good day to you, sir."
Up the hill, O'Keefe waiting and sweeping the packages into his arms. In the kitchen, laying them out on the table.
"How you do it, Dangerfield, I don't know. The first time I went looking for credit they told me to come back with a letter from a bank manager."
"It's the blue blood, Kenneth. Now I'll cut off a little piece of this cheese and give it to the little boy."
Dangerfield returns to the kitchen smiling and rubbing