The Onion Eaters (28 page)

‘Charlene why are you shaking.’

‘Because I’m scared. Because you might throw me out when you’ve finished with me. And I don’t want to go. I kissed you the time of the blast when I had your head in my hands. I was thrilled the first moment you came into the kitchens. I was at me wits’ end with despair. Not knowing where to find this or that. Or what was expected of me. Thought there’d be some mad old red nosed landowner with a big stick and gaiters ready to jump out at me and beat me within an inch of my life.’

Clementine standing trousers dropped around the ankles. In last month’s underwear. Never know I had a
haberdasher
once. Just up the concrete street from aunt’s big corporation. All the drawers, shirts and socks spread out tied up in ribbons behind two shiny windows. Always met with a smile of devastating courtesy. When stepping in out of the lunch time window watchers. Ah Mr Clementine, how are you for socks. Fine. But just now I’m in a bad way with castles. I liked that man. Fervently selling shirts. There when needed. To comfort me. With his confidential whisper, this is what they’re wearing now. I’d try to be calm. And not shout out for god’s sake give me some. To stun the guys at the office. Who had no mercy if they caught you a
fraction
out of style. Passing me with side glances at the water cooler. Where I’d have a think over a paper cup. About why the clock had such a slow struggle to move the hands around to quitting time. When I could go thronging with thousands of others to the train. That never stopped at a crossroads. Where there’s nothing but night and day. Of winds, mist and rain. And another gull’s cry. As Charlene charges. Tugging at my clothes. Tearing off her own. Hands digging in my hair. Teeth sinking in my neck. A randy hearted tigress roaring up from the kitchens. Hold tight to her hard handy bumps of arse. Spin together down on the bed. Crawling up on me pushing a breast smothering on my face. Where goes a mariner. On this stormy sailing.
Avoiding
ship wreck in wet dreams. Grab tendons stretched under her armpits. Flourishing with hair. Musty and steamy scented. Chewing at my ears. Biting down along my throat.
Feel I’ve been dug up out of last winter’s leaves. A root shining ripe and white. Get it into her. Veins and all. Between the soft liquids swelling. As the words rush out of her mouth. Your highness I would give up God for you. Not that he’s ever given me anything but a kick in the teeth. But wherever you look there’s some kind of trouble. You’d
wonder
how does a mother’s love last that a child takes away. Mine’s been just a little knot tied up in me ready to burst. Like tonight. When I can’t control or help myself. And it would be no relief to know that everyone has these
wor
ries
. That have denied me beautiful fingernails. Chewed as they’ve been with distress. That thing of yours up me is like a blessing from on high. The light of a sacred candle I’m telling you. Scares away all me mountainous horrors. You were struck with that Lady Macfugger. The thought of it gives me heartburn. Maybe I’m not socially up to scratch. But I defy her to enjoy your tool more. They’ll never make me marry a dirty old man with his hands all over me. And not one of his own teeth to keep his jaw from shutting up over his nose. That’s what they do with us here in the country. They farrow you fat every year like a pig. Till you get swept away with the sorrow. Of the screaming children growing up around your knees. Ah there in your eyes. I see soft things. Doves and the like of that flying. I’m a woman but the contemplation of babies in my belly makes me vomit. Unless it had a father like you. I was the smartest young girl in the district. With just a lot of hard calluses on my hands and heels to show for it. And if you had nothing further to do with me. You’d be right. I could go away content with your juice up inside. But what you need is a wife. That shook you. Forget I mentioned it. It’s not a safe subject. Like the lady visitor in the town who made an observation in the pub about the weather thinking it
harmless
enough among the touchy customers. Said it was a rainy day and had her nose broken for it. That’s all it is,
cantankerousness.

Charlene swinging her head spreading her hair. All over her shoulders. Gallant frisky girl. Her chest flushed red. Taste of salty sweat on her skin. Whispered she was a fiery
fuck. While she said mind your tongue or I’ll give you a wallop for your impudence, provided you give me more of another gallop. For our pleasures. Over this grand night ahead. Heard tell you could do it sitting on a stool. Get up on it like you would a saddle. Let’s try it like that. When you think a moment, there’s much more to living than fuchsia, grass and granite. Heard tell it could be kissed. And I’ll have a taste of that too.

Musty mouldering smells on my palms. Tainted from the damp upholstery. Sitting as she sits on top of it her legs crossing my lap. So many times in this life when you can throw a thoroughly wasted tantrum. Or fuck. Or let evil thwartings rise up so big they blind and make you prisoner. Till you can’t walk nor talk. Charlene said she laughed a moment when she lost her virginity. When the man who owned the shops said in confidence. That his wife when he was up on her read the deaths in the evening newspaper over his shoulder where she held it open behind his back. He got so used to it he’d ask her who was shaking hands with God today. And nothing now for me to see behind Charlene as we just look behind each other. Where I can’t believe the wall has begun to move. But it has. Creaking slowly open. Right there where once there was a panel. And now there’s an opening door. And standing there. As Charlene and I clutch each other naked. Is Bloodmourn. Festooned in cobwebs and dust. In yachting cap and trousers and his Samson badge. A lantern held high. Deflecting his face in view of our modesty. To make that remark.

‘I beg your pardon.’

As suddenly as he had come. Bloodmourn disappeared that night. Falling backwards down a flight of stairs behind him that he’d just climbed up. Said he found the passage
exploring
his bedroom wall when he thought he heard sounds in there.

In my portable copper bath steamed up with bubbles I lay basking. As Oscar lugged the pails of hot water. And with a tin of Gloria’s talcum powder Bloodmourn came in. This time under the suspended iron door. Bathing the night of the ball. While confessions were being heard in the chapel. And in robes of state dug out by Percival,
Bloodmourn
sat on the stool. Held out wrists from the ermine cuffs and surveyed his fingernails. And his hands shook.

‘Clementine you’ve got to marry that girl.’

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘I insist upon it. The engagement must be announced at once. You must give your solemn undertaking that you will do this. And end your reckless bachelorhood of wanton lust instantly. I will be best man of course.’

Bloodmourn’s smile. Says he dearly loves his own wife and children. Making an appointment each year for a photographer to snap them seated together to show that they were a little family united. His lips widen whitely over his teeth as he takes his leave. He thought he might try confession in the chapel. Under great strain these days in the chess battle with the Baron, who was winning in the recent campaign fourteen games to seven. Who said now to Bloodmourn’s moves. If dat’s so den dis is so.

From an ancient armoury in a windowless vault beneath the cloisters. Six small cannons were rolled out and lugged upstairs to give a military air to the ballroom. Holly leaves
with berries strung up on walls and pilasters. Blazing fires lit under the carved marble mantelpieces. Emblazoned with the arms of Clementine. Candle light gleaming and
sparkling
through the crystal chandeliers. Ina and Imelda with plates of goodies. As Tim and Oscar ferry wine from the caves and Percival chalks off the dangerous areas of the floor.

Turning into the chapel I saw Mini Monk with a group of assistants carry his roulette wheel along the hallway. He said the percentage rake off could be substantial. With the doors open to all comers. For a floor show Padrick could do the trick with his tool. While Rose reaches high c in an octave of her choosing. And Putlog will pound the organ with an anniversary waltz. Danced by Mr and Mrs Utah.

Two bowed figures in the front row of the chapel. Flowers on the altar rail, the marble balustrade polished gleaming. A stone confessional, gargoyles of spitting devils sticking from the cornices. A painted screen behind which the sinner kneels. As I kneel to watch the rays of light stream in the narrow windows behind the altar, throwing soft shadows on the cold white stone walls. Hear larks
chirping
and voices in the confessional. One of which is Bligh’s.

‘I committed an impure act father.’

‘What was that. What did you say.’

‘I committed an impure act.’

‘I can’t hear you. Speak up.’

‘I committed an impure act.’

‘That’s better. Was it alone or with others.’

‘With others. But I also did alone.’

‘How many times did you commit the impure act alone.’

‘Six.’

‘And with others.’

‘It was a night of impurity father. I couldn’t help myself.’

‘What do you mean by that.’

‘It started before midnight and ended at dawn.’

‘What on earth were you doing.’

‘I beg your pardon father.’

‘You heard me, what on earth were you doing.’

‘For Jesus’ sake father not so loud.’

‘Don’t you dare you dirty cur invoke the name of the saviour in this confessional.’

‘I’m only after forgiveness father. It’s not nice to be called a cur. And I have a business to watch after.’

‘O you have have you. After your night of impurity. Is she married or single this creature victim of your carnal
appetite.’

‘I wouldn’t know how to answer that.’

‘Did you pick up with a woman of the streets. Do you want to be diseased in body as well as in mind.’

‘To tell you the truth father I just want to get me
absolution
and get out of here. I’m only a visitor to the place.’

‘Well I’ve heard plenty of tales in this confessional before from better people than yourself and if you had the time to sin you’ll have the time now to confess.’

‘Father there might be people listening will you give me the absolution. I’m a business man.’

‘Business man, what difference do you think that makes to me. You dirty thing you. You should be ashamed of yourself. Spending your profits on whoredom when the lord has a kingdom in need of income. Dirty.’

‘Father the church owns plenty.’

‘And we need it with the likes of you coming in here to this confessional demanding absolution for a night of lust.’

‘I spent the night with a man.’

‘You what.’

‘A man.’

‘Well now that’s an entirely different cauldron of octopus altogether.’

‘Thank you father.’

‘Close your mouth you eegit, thank me, how dare you presume such a tactic. Where were you educated.’

‘In the capital.’

‘Keep your dirty city habits to yourself then and not bring them out here among these poor innocent people. What business are you in.’

‘I can’t tell you that father.’

‘By God you will or I’ll come out of this confessional and drive you from the sanctity of this chapel.’

‘Well I am as you might say in the brewing trade.’

‘Scandalous that you should behave then as you’ve done with a good business of that nature.’

‘Well recently I’ve expanded into electrical appliances.’

‘Dear God you might have guessed it. Are you a
practising
homosexual.’

‘No no, I’m only learning.’

‘Do you know how your lord looks on such behaviour. He despises it. You’re the sort who would be watching down there on the beach of a summer evening bare bottomed little boys disrobing to attire themselves in bathing
costumes
while their fresh gleaming cheeks shone in the
sunlight.’

‘I’ve not been down there on the beach father. Except to launch some little kiddies for a boat ride after a choir recital.’

‘So you’re the one. Took those innocents out there on the high seas where they nearly lost their lives.’

‘Ah father for God’s sake will you give me a chance to
remain
obscure. For the moment at least. And when I run for political office I’ll let you know.’

‘Don’t you despise yourself.’

‘A little bit father.’

‘You should be ashamed.’

‘I am. A whole lot.’

‘You sullied yourself. Insulted God. Threw in his face a mess of filth. God who loves you. Who has given you a good business.’

‘Yes father.’

‘Beg his forgiveness, go to him now, lay your heart at his feet.’

‘Yes father.’

‘And when the temptation comes again to consort with men ask him to give you strength to resist. And if this is not possible try not to let heinousness continue till dawn. Are you with me. What on earth are you doing.’

‘Sorry father, it’s tomorrow’s first race, the three thirty, there’s a bookmaker taking bets at the castle ball tonight.’

‘Well I’ll give you a tip for that.’

‘I fancy Incorrigible to win.’

‘Not a bit of it, put your money on Unborn Son.’

‘Thank you father.’

‘Now say the rosary six times, put a pound in the poor box.’

‘It’d be stolen by the inmates in a second here father.’

‘Give it to me then.’

‘Put it on Unborn Son.’

‘That’s enough of that kind of a suggestion.’

‘Sorry father.’

‘Make a novena to steer you from any temptation in the future. And god willing try to direct your thoughts to the purity of the blessed virgin. Remember that simplicity, candour and artlessness are the hallmarks of a noble nature. Let the current of deep faith sweep you into the arms of our lady.’

‘Watch that now father.’

‘Yes perhaps that’s not the proper expression.’

‘I’ll say not.’

‘Go then and sin no more.’

‘Right you are. Are you coming to the ball father.’

‘I don’t think I’ve been invited.’

‘Well you are now.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you father.’

Bligh head bowed, his grey jacket stretched tight by his enormous shoulders and thick neck, slowly approaches the altar and kneels. As Clementine retreats smartly into the shadows. And emerges in a doorway of the ballroom. Mini Monk standing under a chandelier hunched over a table. Taking a few practice flicks of the little steel ball zooming and clattering around the spinning wheel.

‘I think your majesty you’ll be very happy with this wee caper tonight. You’ll have a nice little cut of the pie. Your premises I don’t mind saying are most suitable. You wouldn’t be interested would you in a more permanent use. As you might say for a casino. I mean I know you would not care to enter trade or that kind of thing. Just a discreet little operation. With only the very best people.
None of your yobs and yobos. Strictly the better sort of type. I am personally acquainted with a clientele of the calibre of Major Macfugger and Lady Macfugger. The major likes a little pot luck on the wheel of fortune. Ah speak of the devil. Major.’

‘I say there Mini Monk you wretched little mole
tunnelling
into people’s fortunes. By God Clementine you’re not half having a little soirée. Just got your invitation. Thought I’d come early. Been in a bit of a funk you know. Badly need a bash. Caught my woman taking another’s horn. Threw me back a bit. Man doesn’t like his mare having a stray poke. Very shoddy. Simply not on. But by jove, you’re looking the part. The Clementine. I’d say we’ll give the women in the bed more fornicators as well as delphiniums tonight. Send a lot of your cunts straight back to sea level.’

Major Macfugger in a three cornered hat and long pink swallow tailed coat. Lacy frills at his throat. Black
pantaloons
with shiny leather codpiece and white hose stretched tightly on Nails’ solid legs. Hanging between his sky blue faced lapels a crystal locket enclosing a splinter of the true cross. As he tapped a bull whip against the tip of his
gleaming
slipper.

‘By God Clementine the wenches will get due discharge of the usual local impulses of country gentlemen on this night or I stand here unjustified like a stiff prick without balls.’

Macfugger raising his bull whip overhead. Mini Monk and Clementine ducking as the long lash curled down the ballroom where it cut a candle in half with a bang.

‘I mean to say haven’t lost my touch. Keeps a party from getting out of hand. Some chap want to prang the missus and we might make a little sliced cucumber out of his cock.’

Clementine carefully and slowly folding hands together. Wouldn’t want that around the neck. Who knows what Lady Macfugger might have said in her sleep. Begging me to get up her. And then groaning that I was. Take comfort she’s a lady of principle. Not the sort to whisper the name,
address and number of testes of a lover. To the hubby Just to fuss things up a bit.

‘Yes Clementine by God, just let me catch the chap. I’t make his arse hole hoot in fear because his neck will be splashing blood like a fountain.’

‘Excuse me major, just must see to a few things. Please do help yourself to a drink.’

Clementine striding quickly down the hall. Past all these bed, dressing and ante rooms. At the top of the grand staircase. Looking down. People taking off their coats. And my God. Lady Macfugger. Must find out if she’s squealed About our harmless little innocent attempt. To play
tem
porary
husband and wife. Percival lifting a white fur wrap from her shoulders. Ermine everywhere. Even round my own neck and wrists. Makes one feel one can make a decision. Amazing what a little costume does for the spirit.

‘Gail, how good to see you.’

‘How good to see you Clayton. I am sorry about my bank getting cold feet. They take such a short sighted view. Especially if you cloud it with a little bad news. By the way what are all those men doing assembling out in front of the castle. They look like troops.’

Clementine rushing up the grand stair followed by a stately white gowned Lady Macfugger red flushes where the black was round her eyes. Both stopping along the hall to peer out a window in the lowering dusk. Colonel
Macdurex
standing in front of a band of men abreast row after row. An evening mist tumbling over their heads. Just push this window open a bit. To hear.

‘All right men. Company A and B take the north rear. F Company are already in position in the orchard cloisters and mountain meadows. C Company will take possession of the wine cellars. D Company will remain in position.
Myself
and adjutants will enter the front. Two rapid shots fired is the signal that resistance has been encountered and you all know what to do. Synchronize watches. Proceed now to your previously assigned objectives. Up the
republic.’

Weapons bulging under their raincoats, Macdurex
standing
mid hall with his command. Nodding his head as Clementine approaches. Percival peeking from the
doorway
under stair. Three exprisoners emerging from the state room sten guns levelled. Infiltrators had us occupied the whole time. Not even a chance to make a ceremonial boom from the cannons. Lady Macfugger just behind me a little to my left. Her eyebrows raised. Group of guests I’ve never seen before appear to be biting their fingernails. Watching this bloodless victory.

‘Good evening Mr Clementine, as you can see the time has come. It’s only a matter now of determining whether you want us to embroider easter lilies in your lapels by sten gun or offer no resistance to my troops carrying out their authorized commands. We have you surrounded and have achieved complete isolation of this area with a road block at the bridge. All coaxial cables have been severed. Now with fourteen minor explosions courteously effected or four major blasts rudely implemented Charnel Castle symbol of oppression would be no more. It means little to us whether we are obliged to effect completion of the mission by using the former or the latter.’