D'Arcy's Farewell

D'Arcy's Farewell was written around 1979 and was first published in The Irish Press by David Marcus, Literary Editor of the legendary New Irish Writing page. In 1981 D'Arcy's Farewell won The Hennessey Award. Later the story appeared in the Penguin Firebird Anthology and a dramatised version was broadcast on BBC Radio 3. The story was published again in the author's first book Details from an Apocalypse which was awarded a Book of the Year Arts Council prize.

D'Arcy's Farewell

Willie lifted the big kettle and half filled it at the tap on the back wall. He put it down gently on the small Calor stove and struck a match. The gas would not light.

"Ah, don't tell me . . ."

He threw down the dead match and wrenched at the valve on the gas bottle beside the stove. He waited a minute, staring at the stove then turned the gas on and bent to listen below the kettle. He struck another match. The blue flame was low and weak.

Mackay stood in the doorway — silent. Willie sat on a crate and took a Daily Record from his jacket pocket. He began to examine the racing page.

"You're needin' mair gas, Wullie," said Mackay, peering below the kettle.

"Aye."

Mackay straightened up, lifted the kettle and set it down again.

"Gas is gey low," he said with a glance towards Willie.

Mackay stacked the long-handled shears with the other tools against the wall beside the stove. Then he turned to the door with a sigh and looked out over the gardens. Slow footsteps sounded outside, then stopped.

" 'Gentlemen, we are possessed herewith of a most splendid situation.'"

Mackay's lips curled slightly as he drew a pipe and tobacco tin from his dungarees pocket.

" 'A most splendid situation,'" repeated the high sibilant voice.

The footsteps drew nearer. Braces appeared in the doorway.

Willie looked up briefly. Mackay made a sound in his throat and stuck the pipe between his teeth. Braces nodded and stepped into the shed.

"Kettle'll be a wee bit longer this mornin' — the gas is low," said Willie, without looking up from his newspaper.

"Looks like rain," announced Mackay.

Braces turned to the door shaking his head.

"No, it'll no' rain the day."

Silence. Mackay cleared his throat and put a match to his pipe.

"Two-thirty," muttered Willie.

Mackay blew a column of smoke into the rafters.

"It rained yesterday," he said. "Efter dinner."

"Just a spit man," Braces snapped. "That wasnae rain."

"Four to one," breathed Willie, marking the page with a pencil stump.

Mackay gave a long sigh.

"The ground's needin' it."

"Aye," Braces agreed.

"It's kinda hard. Parched, ye ken?" added Mackay.

Braces nodded slowly, staring ahead. Mackay pointed with his pipe.

"Look at the grass yonder — see?"

"Aye."

"D'ye see it?"

"I can see it."

Mackay looked at Braces closely.

"Yellow," he said.

Mackay's arm fell and he replaced the pipe.

"Aye," said Braces, "it's been a dry summer all right."

"Seemingly dry all over," said Mackay, "accordin' to what I hear."

Braces stamped his boots on the stone floor.

"It'll no' rain the day though," he said finally.

Mackay slid a hand beneath his cap and scratched.

"The trimmin' done?" asked Braces.

Mackay nodded. Braces smiled and cleared his throat.

" 'Good man, Mr Mackay,'" he said in the same exalted brogue.

Mackay grunted.

"Isn't that the way he used to go?" insisted Braces.

"Aye, right enough," agreed Mackay.

"Eh?" said Braces.

"He did."

Braces turned towards Willie.

"D'you mind D'Arcy, Wullie? Called you Mister William. 'Mr William.'"

Willie laughed.

"Aye, I mind him okay — the mad Irishman."

"And 'My dear Mr Mackay!'"

"That's right," said Mackay.

Willie looked up and folded the newspaper.

"I seen him no sae long ago," he said thoughtfully. "Canny mind just where."

"Still hangin' about?" said Mackay.

"Seemingly. It'll come back tae us."

Braces drew himself up, throwing his head back.

" 'Gentlemen', d'you mind, he used to talk like that? 'Gentlemen' he'd say, 'we are possessed herewith of a most splendid situation.'"

"That's D'Arcy," assented Mackay.

Willie agreed with a sigh. Mackay grunted and yawned and knocked the ash out of his pipe. They gazed through the open door of the shed across the gardens.

" 'Lord Blair, do you know him?'"

Mackay snorted.

"Lord bloody Blair . . ."

" 'A charming man,' " continued Braces, " 'excellent cellars, Mr Braces. Splendid claret. Nice and cool downstairs for the wines. Tonight I am to dine with Lord Blair at his town house. Eight sharp, dress formal. A great honour. Very learned man, Braces.'"

Mackay belched. Braces strutted near the door, hands clasped at his back, head high.

" 'Situation tricky, Mr Braces . . .' "

''Fucken tricky!'' guffawed Mackay, looking round at Willie.

" 'Delicate. I know that I can rely on you to keep these confidences to yourself — you are the senior man here, the man who has the burden of responsibility on his shoulders. But, don't you see my situation — my best and finest suit is on the premises of the Equitable Loan Company of Scotland, number one hundred and forty nine High Street. And I must retrieve it today, soon — before five.'"

"In the fucken pawn," announced Mackay scornfully.

"Well, I says, had you no' better get scootin' seein' as how it's past four already? 'Mr Braces,' he says, 'you are a true man, a great and a true man,' an' wi' that he's up an' away loupin' like a twa-leggit giraffe up into the trees and over the railins, awa' up the street to get his gear."

Mackay nodded,

"Quick off his mark."

Willie laughed.

"Mind the way," he said, "he used to do his wee dance, what's this he called it?"

"Bloody coconuts," snapped Mackay. "Always Lord this and Lord that, Lady so-an'-so and Colonel kiss-me-arse. Keepin' in wi' the gentry by his way of it, tryin' to get his end away wi' the daughters."

They all laughed and shook their heads.

"Out there in front of the whole place, jumpin' up and down like a looney, higher and higher, kickin' his legs out and then whirlin' round and drummin' his feet, always with arms straight at his side."

"Strange man," confirmed Mackay, "strangest man I ever' came across."

"Do you mind you asked him one time about the dancin'?"

"I do," said Mackay.

"What was it — 'Mr Mackay, let me tell you why,' " said Braces.

"That's right."

" 'Our lives are a dance, don't you see?' An' he's leapin' up and down all the time, like yon Russian ballet dancer. 'Our lives are a dance, a dance to the grave, Mr Mackay.'"

Mackay laughed heartily and swore profusely.

"Nooryoff," said Willie.

"That's him," agreed Braces. " 'I dance, Mr Mackay, to keep myself from going mad.'"

Willie put a hand to his stomach, laughing uncontrollably. Mackay stamped his feet and tears ran down his cheeks. Braces chortled and chuckled slowly without turning from the open door. Recovering a little, Mackay said:

"D'Arcy the dancer, the mad eejit."

Braces bent and looked beneath the kettle at the pips of blue flame. Straightening up he laid his fingers on the side of the kettle and quickly withdrew them.

"No be long," he said.

"Aye," said Mackay slowly. "I often used to wonder what he was doin' here in the proud and famous city, as he called it."

"A job of some sort he didn't get," said Braces, "something to do with a chair, he used to say. In the university. He didn't get it Always on about his chair, d'you no' mind? Who was sitting in his chair now."

"A seat of learning," said Mackay.

"Do vou mind this one?" said Braces. " 'My dear Mr Mackay, are you familiar with the Greeks?' Who? Zorba the Greek? Bloody Zorba the Greek! 'I'm thinking of Plato, the sublime Plato,' he says. 'Plato on the immortality of the soul.' Very nice, says Mackay. 'You Scotchmen,' says D'Arcy, 'are great thinkers altogether, Mr Mackay, in this Athens of the north. Greeks in their time. And now here are we, Mr Mackay, discoursing away and having a very learned blether. Do you believe, Mr Mackay, in the immortality of the soul?' No answer from Mackay. Gets the fork, sinks it into the loam with a grunt, stuck in his gob. D'Arcy, shirtsleeves, head up, neck like a plucked chicken, surveying the park, doin' sod all as usual. Playin' the white man. 'Wonderful place for the thinking man, here among the shrubs and bountiful finery of nature, Mr Mackay. Leads one onto a higher plane — lofty thoughts. A fine city for rare thinking — cultivation of the higher faculties.' "

Braces raised his hands with a flourish and looked round; his features were curiously distorted. Mackay shrugged.

"His immortal fucken soul," he sneered.

"Still nothing from Mackay. Not a word. The old fork turning over the clay. D'Arcy lookin' up at the sky. 'Am I doomed, Mr Mackay, to extinction or what is it? Are we immortal — to live forever or are we doomed to die absolutely? And be no more, Mr Mackay?'"

Mackay gave a grunt, spat and drew his boot across the spot.

"On and on he went," said Braces wearily, "the whole afternoon till the rain came on. Was he goin' to live forever, was he goin' into the grave for keeps and what was the score goin' to be at the end of the day."

"Bloody coconuts," muttered Mackay.

Willie got to his feet and crossed to the stove.

"Never drank tea," he said quietly, "funny that."

"True enough," agreed Braces. "Never touched tea. 'Not a tea man, Mr Braces. You'll forgive me if I don't join you for tea but I am not a tea man.'"

"Never bothered with tea," muttered Willie, turning to the stove again.

For a moment there was silence. Then Mackay cleared his throat raucously and said:

"Aye, but he liked the drink."

Braces concurred at once with a snort.

"Drink?"

Mackay wheeled round.

"He could handle the bevy, I'll say that for him," he asserted.

"What!" Braces exploded, "he could drink you under the table. Ever in a pub wi' him?"

Mackay turned away with a laugh.

"No' much use at the graftin' but he could fair go the bevy."

Willie arranged three large mugs and opened a milk carton.

"He used to stand over at that big sycamore there, lookin' up into the trees, scratchin' himsel'."

"Recitin' poetry," Braces added. "I often heard him at it."

"There she goes, Wullie," said Mackay, looking at the kettle.

Willie turned the gas tap, lifted the kettle and filled the teapot.

"No afore time," he said.

Mackay and Willie sat down with their tea. Braces turned from the door to lift his cup.

" 'Gentlemen, we are possessed herewith . . .'"

There was a long, slithering, gutter sound, then another following it.

Mackay belched and sighed heartily.

"Do you mind," he said, smiling again, "the way he'd talk about the proud and famous city . . . eh?"

"That's right, said Braces, " 'The proud and famous city of Edinburgh'"

"An' known all over . . ."

" 'Known all over Europe and the civilized world for its contributions to science and literature . . .'"

They laughed and spluttered into their tea. Mackay took a choking fit and went red in the face. Braces stood in the doorway, draining his tea noisily.

"One time he says, 'My dear Braces, do you know the General? I was round there at his place last night for drinks. Heavily decorated — you'd like him, Braces — a heroic man. His daughter Bunty, splendid girl — I met her. A great scholar and so well developed.' Then he says, dead serious: 'A man, when he's young, needs a bit of ballast, don't you see? Ballast for the voyage of life and with Bunty, who could ask for more? Fourteen delicious stones, Mr Braces, upon which to cast my anchor.'"

Mackay and Willie went into hysterical laughter. Braces paused in his imitation and waited, chuckling.

" 'I have to press my suit,' says D'Arcy, 'and ask the General for her hand.'"

"A cake of hot putty," spluttered Mackay.

He drew his pipe out and began to fill it with tobacco from a small round tin. He said that D'Arcy was a hell of a man. Willie agreed and went to the door where he flung out the dregs of his tea. He sat again, shaking his head.

"Do the speech, Braces, D'Arcy's speech," he said.

Braces snorted.

"Aye, go on. Gie us his speech," urged Mackay.

Braces said that he could not.

"D'Arcy's farewell, do you mind it, Willie?" said Mackay.

Willie said that he remembered it in parts. Braces said that he had forgotten it almost entirely.

"Dinna gie us that!" Mackay exclaimed, "you remembered everythin' else, near enough."

But Braces would not yield. They pressed him for minute or so in vain, then fell silent.

"How's this it went," said Mackay at length.

"In steady employment . . ." Willie suggested.

"Aye, an the bit aboot God be praised, d'ye mind Wullie?"

Braces turned slowly towards them.

"Doesnae start that way," he said patiently. "It goes like this . . ."

"Go on, Braces," muttered Willie.

Braces made a preliminary flourish and stretched to his full height. He coughed and cleared his throat.

" 'In the full possession of our faculties, God be praised, in fair health, with our wits about us, sound in body and mind, in steady and gainful employ here in this corner of sweet Arcady amongst the leafy bowers and shady groves, here, I, D'Arcy, an Irishman amongst you Scotchmen all three, plus myself, the four of us philosophizing like the ancients below the greenery and shade, now make this salutation and farewell to Arcady and all the splendid situation hereabout and prospect of natural flourishment where betimes and often amid the shrubs and pastures was found the consolation of happy discourse that will be condolence in time to come for days long lost and gone.'"

After a minute or so, Mackay coughed and broke the silence between them.

"You said you seen him, Wullie?"

"Aye, the other week — couldnae mistake him."

"I suppose not," conceded Mackay.

Braces shuffled in the doorway.

"Autumn again, boys, eh? Leaves comin' down all over the place. Can smell the smoke already."

Willie nodded and sighed.

"Where was it you saw him, Wullie?" Mackay asked quietly.

Willie stood up slowly.

"I passed him up on Forrest Road. He was comin' out of the Registry Office — a wee woman wi' him. Half his size, the two of them dressed up."

"Married?" Mackay asked incredulously.

Willie hesitated.

"I suppose so."

It was Braces who began to laugh first but Mackay and Willie joined very quickly and for a long time the three gardeners shook uncontrollably with laughter. Braces tried once or twice to say something but choked on the words and gave up. Eventually Willie managed to say that he hadn't had such a hoot in ages.