'Darcy and O'Mara' is a novel by Arthur Cronin.
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Wednesday, June 24, 2009

The Woman in White


It's too warm to do any work in the garden. My great-grandfather once got a herd of sheep to cut the grass. He believed that a ghost shepherd was guarding the sheep at night. He often saw this shepherd when he looked out the window at dawn. But he got rid of the sheep when the shepherd started singing to wake up the birds.


My cousin Jane once agreed to play her keyboard at a village concert. The more she practised the more convinced she became that her small keyboard wouldn't be enough to entertain a crowd in an elevator, let alone in a village hall. She started experimenting with synthesisers, and she was amazed at some of the sounds she could make. Making interesting sounds seemed like just the sort of thing that would entertain the audience in a village hall.


On the night of the concert it took a few minutes to set up her synthesisers on the stage, and the audience were looking restless. She was starting to worry, but the first sound she made dispelled all the doubts of the people in the hall. It made everyone laugh, and they gave her a round of applause. Jane was delighted with this reaction, but things went horribly wrong when she made a second sound. This one brought terror to the crowd. Children ran from the hall, screaming as they went. She tried to repeat the first sound to bring calm, but she couldn't get it right. No matter what she tried she couldn't replicate that first sound she made.


She spend weeks trying to get that sound right. People a mile away could hear her working at her synthesisers. She never got it right, but she did create some spectacular sounds. One of them made a group of people form a cult. She thought she should give up on the sound if her attempts would only end up forming more cults. Most of the cults she'd inspired in the past had petered out after the first attempted sacrifice, but this group seemed more determined than the others. It was that sort of sound.


Claudia, Jane's best friend, convinced her to have another go at the sound, but this attempt only made things worse. It inspired the cult to put twenty multi-coloured balloons in a field near Jane's house. They were tied to a concrete block.


The balloons in the field looked sinister. All of the actions of a sinister cult seemed sinister. If the local school kids put balloons in a field it would have seemed even more sinister because the school kids were even more sinister than the cult. There were twenty balloons, all different colours. Jane and Claudia were afraid of them. They went to see Stephen, who had a radio-controlled robot, and they got him to get his robot to burst the balloons while they stood behind a ditch.


Unfortunately, the robot fell over as he made his way through the field. He lay on his side.


"What's he going to do now?" Jane said.


"He'll probably catch fire," Stephen said.


"Why would he do that?"


"You'll have to ask him that."


"You made him. You should know."


"When you see Louise throwing beetroot at the band stand in the park do you ask God why he made her do that?"


"God wouldn't answer. And God would probably disown Louise."


"Well I'm not answering either. I'm not disowning my robot, but I refuse to comment on his actions. Except to say that he's being very, very selfish." He said that loud enough for the robot to hear.


"If the contents of the balloons are flammable and your robot catches fire, then..."


Stephen ran away. Claudia said, "I told you we should have asked him about the burn marks on the robot."


Claudia was getting bored, so she went to the balloons and untied them. The wind carried them away. Jane and Claudia put the robot back on his wheels. It thanked them, and it started telling them all of Stephen's secrets. They laughed when the robot told them about its creator's love poetry and the time he danced with a sweeping brush to practise his dancing (he called the brush Emily to make it more realistic), but they were intrigued by one thing the robot said. Every night, Stephen went to the same spot in a field near the river. He was hoping to meet a woman in white.


The robot didn't know the reason for this behaviour because it had its origins in events that happened before the robot was created. Stephen once met a woman in a white coat in that field near the river. She apologised in advance for what she was about to do to him. He never found out what that was because he ran away through the fields. He kept running for hours, until dawn broke. He felt a sense of peace. He was inspired to write a book about his experiences, but his experiences had only lasted a few hours. He'd need to pad it out to make up a full book. His grandfather recommended including chapters on the Boer War. He took this advice, and he started researching the Boer War. He became obsessed with this, and the whole book turned out to be about the Boer War. By then he had forgotten most of his experiences running through the fields at night, and he felt as if he'd lost something. Every night he went back to the place where he met the woman in white, and he hoped to see her there again.


Jane and Claudia wanted to find out what he was up to, so they spied on him. They went to the field that evening, and they hid behind a ditch. Stephen arrived just after the sun went down. He waited there, and they watched him. Waiting and watching went on for nearly half an hour, until Claudia sneezed and Stephen realised he was being spied on. They came out from behind the ditch, and they told him about what his robot had said.


As he was cursing his robot, Jane and Claudia saw a woman in white walking through the field. Stephen turned around when he saw the expressions on their faces. She was walking slowly towards them, and she was followed by another woman in white, and then a man who was dressed all in white.


Over twenty people in white emerged from the darkness, and they all moved like zombies through the field. This was the cult and they were moving towards Jane. Stephen didn't know this, and he was terrified. He ran away again.


"Give us the sound," one of the cult said to Jane, and then they all said, "Give us the sound."


"I can't," Jane said. "I don't have my synthesisers."


Claudia said to her, "Well sing then."


Jane started singing 'Ave Maria'. The cult began to back away, and then they ran. They disbanded the cult as they retreated.


Jane and Claudia found out about what happened to Stephen when they read the book he wrote about his experiences running away through the fields. He kept running until he came across a bunch of balloons stuck in a tree. The balloons were being guarded by a sweeping brush that was leaning against the tree. He danced with the brush until dawn.


The moose's head over the fireplace is fascinated by the latest stories of the wife's uncle. I think his head must have been affected by spending too long in the sun. His stories refer to bishops who wash his eyes and socks made out of sand. He claims that whenever it rains oranges they get stuck in his head and it's easier to just leave them there rather than take them out.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

The Cat's Dungarees


I've been thinking about re-designing the gardens so I have less grass to cut. Everyone is giving me advice, but so far no one has recommended covering all the lawns with rocks. My grandfather's advice was that all advice should be treated as if it originated in the brain of a man with a feather in his head and a hat on his pigeon. The hat on my grandfather's pigeon had a white feather in it.


My cousin Gary got a job at a radio station. He started socialising with the sports presenters, but on the mornings after his nights out with them he'd always feel as if something was wrong. Ciara, one of his neighbours, would call around to tell him what he smelled of. The process of determining the smell could take over an hour. When her work was finished she'd fill in a form to confirm what he smelled of. He'd take this form to the doctor, and the doctor would act accordingly. On most of Gary's visits, the doctor chose to act as follows: pulling his hair and screaming. This is why Gary chose to do something about the doctor, whose name was James. James needed to relax -- this was Gary's opinion. James asked for a second opinion, and this was provided by Gary's friend Dermot. When they consulted him he said, "I think you need to relax more."


James said, "You're just reading that off your hand."


"He's not," Gary said. "He's practically an expert in this field."


"I wouldn't trust the medical opinion of a man who has snails on his arms," James said, "especially if those snails are hiding behind snail-like growths on his arms."


"Do you think it's likely that a man with snails and snail-like growths on his arms can read?"


"I wouldn't trust the medical opinion of a man who never read a medical textbook."


"Have you never heard of audio books?"


"Maybe he is an expert, but that doesn't mean you haven't paid him to give this opinion."


"He'd never do something like that. A man with snails on his arms is much more difficult to corrupt than a man with no snails. Just ask his mother."


They went to see Dermot's mother. Dermot went with them. Before they had a chance to ask about her son's integrity they had to listen to her complain about the snails. "I thought you said you were going to give them a bath," she said.


"I am. I will. As soon as Bud comes back from his uncle's."


"What does Bud have to do with it?"


"He has the snails' bath. And their shampoo."


"Why did you give him their bath and their shampoo?"


"He said he needed them. It was an emergency."


"Isn't that what Judith said when she asked you for the cat?"


"Yeah."


"Did she bring the cat back?"


"Yeah, but..."


"But what?"


"The cat didn't have his dungarees when he came back."


"Well you can go over to her place right now and ask her for the dungarees."


Dermot looked down at his feet and said, "Okay."


Gary took this opportunity to ask about Dermot's integrity. His mother said, "You can judge for yourself right now. If he goes to Judith's house, he has integrity. But no one could claim to have integrity after disobeying their mother. Thieves are the sort of people who disobey their mother. Unless their mother told them to steal something. But those mothers are the sort of people who disobey their mothers. Unless their mothers told them to tell their children to steal things."


After they left Dermot's mother, Gary asked Dermot if he was going to visit Judith.


"I don't know," Dermot said. "I'd rather forget about the cat's dungarees."


"And disobey your mother? Do you want to become a thief?"


"I've thought about it. I could steal the cat's dungarees."


"Why would you do that when you could just ask for them?"


"It's not easy asking for them. Something always happens when I'm talking to Judith. Or she gets me to do something. The last time I met her I ended up getting a stuffed hobbit off her roof. It wasn't a real hobbit before it was stuffed."


"Don't you want to be able to say 'I'm a man of integrity'?"


"I suppose so."


James said, "A man of genuine integrity wouldn't say 'I suppose so' when asked if he wanted to do something to prove his integrity."


Gary said, "He would if that thing involved leaving the trench and facing enemy fire."


"Meeting a woman who might ask you to remove a stuffed hobbit who probably never actually lived isn't exactly facing enemy fire."


"And what if the hobbit had lived? You'd be removing the corpse of a hobbit from a roof. A man of integrity would have reservations about doing that."


"She's hardly likely to have the corpse of another hobbit on her roof."


"Well I'm certainly going there to see. Are you coming with me, Dermot?"


"Okay," Dermot said.


They went to Judith's house and Dermot asked her if he could have the cat's dungarees. She said, "I gave them to my sister, Diane. She said it was an emergency. I have her cat's pyjamas. You can keep these until she gives you back the dungarees."


"That's okay," Dermot said. "I'm sure she'll give back the dungarees."


They left and headed for Diane's house. On the way there, Gary said, "Dermot's refusal to take the pyjamas is a further sign of his integrity. He chose not to take them so he wouldn't have to question the honour of Diane."


James said, "I think he chose not to take them because he wanted to get away from Judith as quickly as possible before she asked him to get something down from the roof."


Dermot refused to comment on this.


When he asked Diane about the dungarees she said, "I washed them. They're drying on my clothes line now. They should be dry in about an hour."


"I'll come back then," Dermot said.


"Could you possibly do a favour for me? There's something on my roof..."


Dermot ran away. Gary had to concede that this signalled a lack of integrity, but James admitted that the process of examining Dermot's integrity had been relaxing, and that the relaxation had done him good. They got the thing down from Diane's roof, and he found this relaxing as well. The thing turned out to be a mannequin in a policeman's uniform.


The moose's head over the fireplace is enjoying these long days. The view outside the window remains switched on until late at night. I can't think of a better end to the day than to drink a glass of brandy and look out as the garden's colours become deeper and darker. I visited one of our neighbours over the weekend. He prefers the short days of winter. He drew a window on his wall and he drew curtains around it. He isn't going to draw a garden in the window because he'd be tempted to go outside if he saw a view.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Noel's Carnival


When I finish cutting the grass in one part of the garden it needs to be cut again in another part. I'm tempted to fill the lawns with rocks. One of our neighbours did just that. He says that each rock has its own personality. Some of them wear wigs of moss. One of them is trying to seduce the rock next to him.


My cousin Isobel was always trying to impress Mrs. Twullybull's geese. Everyone wanted to be one of their friends. Every time Isobel found herself out of favour with the geese she worked hard to get back into their good books. Sometimes this involved buying new clothes to convince them that she was fashionable. One summer she tried many different looks, but none of them impressed the geese. She spent weeks trying to get back in their good books, but nothing worked. She was starting to give up hope of ever regaining their favour when she won them around by accident. She got a job brushing the dandruff off the shoulders of musicians in an orchestra, and the geese were hugely impressed by this. There was a look of reverence on their faces when they saw her going off to work in the evenings. She became their favourite.


But she lost her job when she complained about the gravy on the shoulders of the musicians in the woodwind section. They were deeply offended by this, and they made the conductor fire her. They said she hadn't complained about the butter on the shoulders of the brass musicians. She believed that the gravy was much worse than the butter, and she made her feelings clear after she was fired.


She thought she'd lose the respect of the geese forever if she told them what had happened. She decided not to say anything. On the evenings when they expected her to be going to the concert hall she left the house as usual, and the geese believed that she was going to work. She needed somewhere else to go, so she started going to Noel's house. He was trying to turn his house and garden into a sort of a carnival. He had a house band called Tooper Scoopmodelplug. They could turn up anywhere around the house and start playing. You could open a wardrobe and find the band inside. They'd start playing, and they wouldn't stop until you closed the doors. In one of the upstairs bedrooms there was a 'Guess the weight of the witch' contest. There were two witches, and neither of them seemed interested in having their weight guessed. In the kitchen, a play was being performed by Cornell Whillip Fightinglugger. It was called 'The way I was when I came back from the army'. The play was different every night. Sometimes he'd be happy when he came back from the army. Sometimes he'd be violent.


On the landing there was a 'Catch the Thief' game. In this you could beat up Noel's cousin with a golf club, but most people didn't enjoy it because he wore a motorbike helmet and homemade padding. He did enjoy it.


When Isobel arrived at the house one evening, Noel offered her a job. Esther had just quit as organiser of the turtle races, citing personal differences with the turtles. He needed someone to replace her, and Isobel agreed to do it. She had to dress in a turtle costume, but she didn't mind. She got on very well with the turtles. Her duties included taking bets and making sure the turtles were relaxed.


She was enjoying her new job, but one evening she looked out the window and she saw Mrs. Twullybull arrive with her geese. She knew she'd lose their respect forever if they saw her working in Noel's carnival, wearing a turtle costume. She hid in a wardrobe. The band were in there. They took her down a tunnel that led to a room with no windows. They made her some tea, and they performed the opening to the opera they were working on. The music was very dramatic, but the libretto was about eating cake in bed. She told them that she wanted to get away from the geese, and they showed her a tunnel that would take her to a well in the back garden.


When Isobel emerged from the well she saw Mrs. Twullybull and the geese, and they saw her. They were in the garden to watch Marjorie, who sat on a kennel while people threw paper planes into her enormous hair. She was wearing her wedding apron, and this brought an air of melancholy to the game.


Isobel ran home. She didn't think she'd ever be able to face the geese again, and she avoided Mrs. Twullybull's house for days. When she finally gathered the courage to walk past it again she looked down at the ground. She glanced up briefly, and she noticed that the geese were staring at her. With a second glance she saw the reverence on their faces. They respected her more as a turtle in Noel's carnival than as a member of an orchestra. She realised that the respect of geese wasn't something to be prized after all.


The moose's head over the fireplace looks bored. He's had to listen to the wife's uncle talking about the latest love of his life. He met her at a fancy dress party. She went as a mummy. He went as an airplane and he crashed into her. She said she'd go as an airport next time.

Wednesday, June 03, 2009

The Sad People


The wife's uncle has given up standing in the garden. It's too hot and there are too many flies. He says that small creatures who want to mate keep treating him as a hotel. It's the sort of hotel with a funny smell in every room, and where the guests often get killed.


My cousin Craig started writing poetry after the woman he loved decided she wanted to be with a man who was always trying to get something out of his ear. Craig felt a need to share his poems with the world, but he didn't want the whole world to hear them, so he started reading them on a deserted street in a seaside town. Sad people would gather around him. The longer the poem, the more sad people would be around him by the end. The sad people had their own language. At the end of his poem about finding fish in snowmen, one of the sad people said, "Hypno pebble bulldog." All of the other sad people nodded.


He wanted to become one of the sad people and learn their language, but he thought that if he asked to join them it would immediately disqualify him from being a sad person. He tried to look too sad to ask, and he hoped they'd understand the language of his look. After weeks of reading poems and looking sad they finally said something he understood. One of them asked if he'd like to look at some rocks. He said he would.


They stood on a hill and looked down on the rocks at the end of the beach. No one said a word. Craig liked the silence. This was a language he understood perfectly. He was enjoying the evening because he felt he was finally one of the sad people, but he tried to stop enjoying it when he remembered that enjoyment would be frowned upon by the other members of this club. They were too sad to put any effort into frowning.


After two hours of waiting, Craig didn't have to put any effort into not enjoying himself. It was nearly midnight, and they were still standing at the hill. Craig really wanted to go home, so he did something that he thought would exclude him from the club forever: he broke the silence. He said, "Is there any particular reason why we're looking at the rocks?"


He expected either a long answer or a short answer, and the long answer would be 'no', so he was surprised when one of them said, "A group of middle-aged women meet at the rocks every Thursday night. We don't know why. We know that each one of them will react if you call her Mrs. Spider, and then they'll try to pretend that they didn't react. Each one of them knows an artist who paints pictures of fish. All of them have been known to keep Scrabble letters in their mouths. We've only seen some of those letters. The ones we've seen can be arranged to spell the word 'Pluto'. My brother Paul will smell the bird Plato, my aunt's parrot, but that's neither here nor there. Plato says the word 'honey', but that jigsaw piece doesn't fit on the Scrabble board. All of the women went to see 'Shine and the Shouts' when that band played in the town last week. Hope Joe Appelskittle will be playing here tomorrow. There are posters up around the town. All of these posters have been painted by the man who paints fish. The fish in the posters look out at you as if they know something you don't."


The women arrived shortly after midnight. There were eight of them. They all arrived separately, but the entire group had assembled within two minutes. They looked out over the sea. The sad people were too far away to hear what the women were saying, but Craig got the impression that they were saying very little, if anything. He recognised some of the women. He remembered seeing two of them playing badminton before. They had been using a brick instead of a shuttlecock. Most of the game consisted of them looking down at the brick on the ground.


The women stayed for an hour before leaving the rocks, and the sad people decided it was time to go home as well. Before they left, they arranged to meet at the gig on the following evening.


When Craig arrived at the gig, most of the sad people were already there. They were gathered in a corner at the back. They noticed that the women were all in the crowd but they hadn't gathered in a group. Sometimes they looked at each other and nodded. Hope Joe spoke to the audience between songs. After a song about saving the hay he said, "When I was walking across the yard in the dark I stood on something. It was probably a twig, but the sound it made and the way it felt under my shoe instilled in my mind the image of a rat's tail. In the unlikely event that it was a rat's tail, the likelihood is that it was attached to a rat's body. This rat would probably have been dead, or else it would have run for cover long before my foot reached the place where it was keeping its tail. Unless the rat was deaf. If the rat was deaf then it must have lacked feeling in its tail, otherwise I would have heard the rat running away with its tail after I lifted my foot. I am not deaf. If it was a deaf rat with a paralysed tail, and not a twig, then I'm glad I stood on its tail and not its head, but not as glad as the rat, assuming it hadn't lost all feeling in its head as well."


The women spent the next few minutes looking at each other and nodding. No one applauded when Hope Joe finished a song. Some of the audience looked at each other and the rest just stared blankly at him. Craig got the impression that the silence was an expression of a deep appreciation of the music. Hope Joe got this impression as well. He seemed to be genuinely moved by the silence. At the end of the gig there were tears in his eyes. "Thank you for being so kind to me," he said, and he left the stage to a deafening silence.


The sad people saw the women at the rocks again that night. On the following evening, Craig and the other sad people were on their way to a telephone booth when they bumped into the women. The two groups just looked at each other. Craig could see that the women were trying to figure out what the sad people were up to.


After weeks of observation by both sides, they both realised that no one was up to anything. The women were meeting to do nothing because doing nothing together was better than doing nothing on their own. Apart from going to gigs, they spent most of their time together just being together. When the two groups realised that they shared a common purpose, or lack of purpose, they joined forces. They'd meet on the beach at night, and sometimes they'd go to gigs. The women learnt some of the sad people's language, and the sad people learnt how to speak the women's silence.


The moose's head over the fireplace doesn't like the heat. We have an electric fan to keep him cool. One of our neighbours called around to see us on the bank holiday. It took him four hours to reach our house. He got lost on the way, and he took out his compass, but it melted in his hand. It was made out of chocolate. I think the sun has affected his head.