The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [87]
"Mr. Dangerfield, why don't you believe in hell and things like that?"
"Hell is for poor people"
"Hee."
"Miss Frost, I think I am a man with a future. What do you think ? Do you think I have a future ? "
"Of course, I think you have a good future. You'll be in law"
"And the jigs and jail and incognito. All those"
"I think you would do well in almost anything, Mr. Dangerfield. I think business would especially suit you"
"I think we will get on with the meat, Miss Frost I have a hunger on me that has me belly screaming my throat's cut"
"O Mr. Dangerfield."
"Thank God up there for codes, Miss Frost Get down there now on your knees and thank him and for the meat as well. All down on our knees. But never hit a man when he's down. Wait to see if he tries to get up and then by God, let him have it The sledge between the eyes. I think my unlimited faith is killing me, Miss Frost I want to chop this house down."
"I don't believe a word you're saying."
"A little underdone. Rawness of all types is for me."
Miss Frost moving the pan, circling it over the fire. Exhaling sound of gas. At the peak hours. The despair of the fading pressure. These damn people in the gas works. No one wants to do a decent day's work anymore.
"You're so strange to be with, Mr. Dangerfield."
"You can't mean that, Miss Frost"
"You're not like other people."
"Well, geek, geek and all that. Perhaps there is some truth in what you say."
"Mr. Dangerfield, would you pass me your plate. Why do you water that little plant in the front with an eye dropper?"
"Miss Frost, you've been spying on me. On me in my secret moments."
"O I haven't But why do you do such a funny thing?"
"I'm poisoning the plant"
"Lord save us."
"Now look at that plant out there, Miss Frost Would you say it was much longer for this world?"
"O Mr. Dangerfield I don't know what to say. That poor plant"
"It's something in me, Miss Frost I thought to myself why don't I slip this plant something to kill it"
"You don't mean that"
"I'm a killer"
In the air the smell of spiced meat and brandy. A soft slow whistle of wind bleeding under the doors. And in my heart a sorrow. First sorrow of the end. Of this strange week of things. Of plans and movements. Of seeing the wild beast O'Keefe. Of these uncanny bedlam moments in the streets. Everything fruiting in a cold winter week. Months of being in the bed with the bedclothes all twisted with my anxiety. The wild things that were going through my mind like storms, I'd wake up my legs spinning round in the freezing air. I need another body with me. I've tried the hot towel on the eyes and made meself some balm but with these trickly chemicals you've got to watch it. I tried mustard plaster all over me and I won't forget that blunder in a hurry or even ever. But I'm not badly off. Not complaining really. Just wouldn't mind a complete change.
Miss Frost and Sebastian Dangerfield sat in this cold dining room eating sausage meat from Bray and drinking a pot of tea. Across from one another, looking up and down to food and back to each other's face. Smiles.
Is this no longer home ? I feel all my homes are behind me. Only a house here because I think I must have nearly pawned everything in it except Miss Frost. The Rock gone. The Balscaddoon. The Rock, The Doon and Trinity. And that first day there when I got off at the back gate out of the green upholstered tram. And there was the university through my apprehensive eyes. A chill wind blowing. My new suit, white shirt and black tie. I felt all dressed up for failure, but feeling important because they were looking at me. There's the porter's lodge and a parking lot and in this building I see the contortions of glass, bubbling pots and skylights poking out of the root I want so much to learn. To know what you do with acids and esters and make my experiments go pop at the right time like the rest of you. From the very first word you tell