The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [49]
"That's him all right He's got me coat and hat That's him."
The bike moves off speedily up the narrow road and around the corner into a screaming of horns and the bottle slides, bangs his knee and breaks with a wet pop on the street Policeman in the middle of the road directing traffic. Putting his hand up to stop. Couldn't know it was me. Can't take the chance, onward you crazy Christian soldier, peddling off to doom.
"Hey you, stop there. Stop there you. You hear me, stop. Hey"
Helter skelter for St. Stephen's Green. Bike wiggling on the cobbles, skidding on the tram tracks. Dangerfield bent double over the handlebars. Licking his lips. Eyes wet with the wind, blinking and blind. They'll have the patrol car, if they have one, after me or maybe motor bikes or the whole force on roller skates. Traffic lights ahead. Whoa. Red for stop.
The bike making a wide arc in front of the oncoming traffic. More horns and screech of brakes. And on down the street aswann with children until one small boy dodging right and left in front of the wiggling machine found himself beneath the panting Dangerfield.
"Are you hurt?"
"No I'm not."
"Are you sure?"
"No I'm not hurt."
"I'm very sorry, little boy. Must rush. Here, you can have this damn bike as a present, before I get killed on it."
The child left standing in the middle of the street, staring after the man who took off his hat and flung it behind the railings and bundled up his coat which followed it, opening, fluttering down.
Through this Cuffe Street. Up Aungier. Flat out. I'll keep up the pace. Get down this alley here and get through all these backyards. Walking between the white walls and piss smells. Don't want to be trapped either.
Dangerfield walked swiftly through the labyrinth of lanes into a little square with a lamp standard and more children. Stepped into a doorway and waited. No one behind. A little girl dragging a boy by the hair in the gutter. Kid screaming and kicking his legs. Bare feet swollen and cut. Another boy comes out of the house with a bundle of newspapers yelling for her to leave him alone and he gives her a punch on the arm and she kicks him in the knee and he grabs her and throws her down. She claws and scratches at his eyes and he bends her arms back and she spits in his face.
Sebastian leaves his doorway and walks slowly out the lane. Navigating widely and back and around and coming out along these terraced, red brick houses each with a polished knocker and curtains and little precious things at the first floor windows. Straight out this road I can see the Dublin Mountains with evening sun on them and I wish I were away out there with a massive wall built all round me. Into the tree lined street Crossing over smartly. Slamming the little gate. Down the steps. Rap, rap. Wait. Silence, rap, rap. My God, my dear Chris, don't leave me out here for them to get me.
"Hello."
Voice behind him.
"Jesus."
"What's happened to you?"
Chris carrying packages, her face wreathed with concern as she came down the steps behind him.
"Let me in."
"Hold these. There's blood all down the back of your neck."
"A little misunderstanding."
"O dear. Have you been in a fight?"
"Little upset."
"Now tell me. Just what did happen?"
"All right. I'll go."
"Now don't be such a fool. Come in, sit down. Of course, you won't go: But you can't expect me to be all complacent when you just suddenly appear all covered in blood. How did this happen?"
"It happened."
"Don't talk nonsense. Hold still. I'll have to boil a kettle and wash it. You've had too much to drink. Does it hurt?"
"No."
Chris in her drawer. Picking out the bottles. Iodine. Water in the kettle.
"Chris, I want you to tell me how I can get away from evil in this world How to put down the sinners and raise the doers of good. I've been through a frightful evening. Indeed,