The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

24

The morning came when the parish magazine was pushed through the letter box. With a welcoming open letter to come and worship from the local vicar. And a week when I met the Angelica Violet Infanta, as well as her tall curvacious friend. We dined a foursome under the tinted cherubs painted on the ceiling of the Ritz. And danced around a champagne laden table hidden beyond the midnight curtains of Mayfair. The Infanta's laugh was deep throated and frequent. Her friend's was lighthearted and rare. And her name was Mil-licent.

Life easeful, moist and summery. In this most polite and courteous of cities. Grit and paper scraps tumbling in the gutter and people said sorry upon contact of an elbow. Smiles here now when needed. And words from the lips of Beefy. I kept appointments down in dark vaults near a candle to taste wine. Taxi engines trembled me a tranquil passenger, out to Mayfair and down to St. James. And sometimes I rode top the double decked red buses swaying roaring from stop to stop. Neighbours departed countrywards as weekends went by in Knightsbridge with unfussed burglaries on thick town house carpets.

I joined Beefy to play bezique at his club and dined off pheasant, claret and cheese. An afternoon on his day off he took me with a hamper of eel fillets, Scotch haggis from Perth, and boned and stuffed chicken in aspic and we sat with our wine surveying saucy antics in a private emporium of striptease. Beefy was climbing the road back up again. He said ah the Infanta, such is she as a girl and I as a chap that together we make a miracle.

I had a cook and Uncle Edouard's old butler, Boats, come one evening to give my first dinner at Crescent Curve. Magnums of champagne with slabs of tender steak and platters of garlic bread. Boats, retired a few years, was slightly enfeebled and very hard of hearing. And the crystal bowl of fruit salad he carried was dropped with one resounding pineapple splash. But there on that Thursday evening we drank a toast to the Violet Infanta and Beefy who announced their wedding. And I was asked to be best man.

I played tennis with Millicent. Who arrived smiling with tan legs in white socks and her racket and little box of balls. To volley, lob and smash me to smithereens all over the quiet and peaceful garden court. I stood so sweatily, spindly and white. And chasing her shots back and forth. Secretly I practised in an empty upstairs room against the wall. Breaking three rackets against the ceiling and knocking out four panes of glass. I met her parents. Both of them smiled. And leaned against their mantel piece. A marble little altar of propped up white invitation cards.

Millicent had long strong tan arms and splendidly muscled thighs. She stood straight and brown haired in flat shoes an inch taller than I. She moved wilfully forward her teeth flashing everywhere. Her serve was like a rifle shot and her back hand sizzled by. And each afternoon collecting up the tennis balls, I would watch her drying away her beads of sweat the other side of the court. Where she stood quite handsome. Elegantly serene. And pleasantly untouchable.

An evening we went to Soho for dinner. Each time I invited her I never thought she would say yes. She wore a close fitting orangy dress low cut over her breasts. And she listened and listened out of her lackadaisical brown eyes. With dark waiters crowding around. I stole looks down at her legs. Watched her buttocks wagging as she walked to powder her nose. And when she leaned forward I stared there too. A waiter doing so impertinently as well. I was so angered I lavishly overtipped him. Then we left for a nightclub. I finally moved to her close as she took my arm. She said out of the smoke and noise of the evening. Why Balthazar, it would not be impossible for us to go to an hotel. One weekend along the river.

From Crescent Curve I made lathered enquiries of river hotels from Greenwich to Maidenhead. And she said yes when I told her. We were booked. My gladstone bag packed with my most favoured linen. A change of ties, four shirts and socks. An old volume on vertebrate morphology stuffed between. I would set forth in grey pin stripe. Change later to more casual wear. And there. She waited packed on that sunless north west corner of Harrods. As I came cruising in a hired chauffeured car along Brompton Road.

It had been an early afternoon of much sprinkling of the toilet water in all possible places. The combing and brushing of that awkward bit of hair. That jumps up from my crown. Sitting serene in this motor now. Distinctly headed west through Barnes across Putney bridge. Turn left to smile. And she puts out her hand and a finger striped gold with a wedding band. I had three times on lonely nights crossed through the park. Strolled the Bayswater Road.. To hope to purely by accident meet Breda. But I never did. As the odd ladies went past whispering good evening dearie.

Reports coming in daily from Beefy were good. Back happily in his club. Employed as lift operator in one of the taller buildings. An improvement he said on the days crossing the stock exchange with slow gait so as not to expose his bare ankles devoid of socks. Awful dear boy when one can't sit down or walk too fast without fear of hiking up the cuff. But these days now living at his club crossing the lobby or marching down to breakfast in his elevator operator's uniform.

Under the suspicious scrutiny of the members. But Balthazar, I tell you, George my old whipper, dear chap, spread the word among them that indeed I was of the foreign military, rank of major general in the Zanzibar marines.

Proceeding west through the middle afternoon. An hour or two before the rest of London will charge out to the countryside. We turn down a winding narrow road and go through this postern onto a gravel apron before a mullioned windowed door. With its little sign above saying so and so licenced to serve alcoholic beverages and tobacco on the premises. One feels a need of both right now. The hotel large and empty. Across the lobby and through a smoking room where windows overlook the river cool and grey. The chauffeur carrying in our bags. One follows behind wondering what to do. I gave him a little something extra for himself. And tried to raise my eyebrows when I thought he seemed to wink at me.

At the polished oak reception desk I tinkled the little bell. A woman came. Busty in a rather over colourful flowered dress. Millicent standing with her everlasting smile playing across her lips as she looked down and bowed to sniff a vase of shrubs and flowers. I moistened my lips. Cleared my throat. And leaned forward imperceptibly.

"I have booked.' "Name please."

"BalthazarB.' "What's that.' "Balthazar. B is for B."

"O. Is it just one."

"O no it was for two."

"A double eh."

"Yes, I think so, please, with bath."

This big white book open. Where this lady points to say sign the register. And one does not know what to sign. Is it binding. To put down one great big B. Preceded by the tiniest written Mr. and Mrs. so that one can say I didn't mean it really. Evidence down through the years. Of deliberate saucy aforethought to indulge in shameless physical familiarities. Vile, low, shabby and inglorious. As I put the pen to this paper and tremble uncontrollably. Writing out across the page Mr. and Mrs. Balthazar B. So much larger than I ever meant it to be. And change my number from 78 to 94 Crescent Curve, and make it Mayfair instead of Knights-bridge.

A little man in a large grey suit took our bags to the room. Up a back staircase and down a long hall. Beefy said one should have as many rehearsals as possible for the honeymoon and he'd already played a solo on the Infanta's violin and she quivered and groaned on the high notes. As he shoved his stake as many times as he could into his claim. Flinging her down into seven leafed pink and purple clematis and rogering her right sharpish in the camelias where they both rolled ardently. My dear boy, of course one unzips the white dazzler and gets it into her before she can hear a sparrow fart. One merely whispers first, may I slip madam a gradual glissando. And here and now one walks hands atremble, heart beating far too fast. Into this room, bow fronted on the river. Big red flowered curtains, black narrow beams in white ceiling, pink and blue towels, and a crimson shade with tassels on the bedside lamp.

Millicent stands in front of the mirror combing back her neck length brown hair. Beneath the window a cherry tree. And beyond across the river a corner of a little field, great fat pink pigs lying in the grass. The door closed behind the porter. Our two bags side by side on the luggage rack the foot of the bed. And Beefy said whenever he looked with appealing honesty and purity of passion at some lady she would turn eastwards if any soft southerly attempt was made at her intimate acquaintance. Therefore it was frequently better to approach first with a gentle pastoral goose, oblique but deep enough to ruffle the female feathers. This led often to immediate and delightful bare arsed infamies without any prolonged further ado.

Balthazar B crossing the floor to stand close behind Milli-cent. And reach down, and my God I don't know quite how to give a goose. But must do something while I'm so near. Just put my hand I guess on her buttock and hope for the best as she slowly smiles in the mirror. And opens her brown eyes wide to look at me. My God how does one behave. Retreat now to give her time to pack. I mean unpack. Or wash her hands. Or rinse a pair of stockings as ladies often do. What a most awkward time of day. To stand here so close, my pole prepared as much as I am unprepared for anything. Still there is always that splendid solution to soothe and cairn.

"Millicent, would you like to have tea."

"That would be nice."

We went down into the smoking room. Another couple of older years in the corner. Who raised their voices. To make conversation about the invention of the electric light bulk The wife eagerly listening to what could only be her husband as tea is brought. Behaving as if they had never met before. In their twenty years of marriage and I don't suppose they have. Just like the moments when I touch Millicent and she answers by opening up that great big smile. What on earth will we ever talk about. Out now in the open over tea. She'll know at least that one is not beset with uncontrolled desperate passion. Or that the words I tried to get up out of my throat in the bedroom would have come out stammering. Not to have brought our tennis rackets. By which our relationship has volleyed back and forth and Fve lost every game. Sealed with back hand top spin cross court passing shots. She sits so nonchalant, carelessly and beautiful and takes three lumps of sugar in her tea.

Again one starts back up the stairs. After a brief stroll along the river low on the banks with the lack of rain. Watching the muscles on her calves as she climbed. In her flat laced up walking shoes. Swallowing my breath, I followed along the hall. And I put in the key to open the door. Pushing it wide aside for her to go in. And remove the brown tweed jacket of her suit. She stands there in cream silk blouse and her string of pearls. Those little beads of refinement. I have come across so many times before. One feels now so absolutely full of Friday. Because if I didn't, no day of the week would mean anything to me at all. She waits again at the mirror. While I'm over now at the window. Making believe I'm watching the skiffs on the river. And a rather tattered little yacht going presumptuously by. Could be the very moment to change into casual wear. And she into hers and then I could suggest we lounge about devil may care before dinner. Or God damn it, go over and grab her now. Which I've never done to a girl before. Since they were always grabbing me. Time for a change. And here goes.

Balthazar B came across the red lilac carpeted floor. Wishing he were drunk in command of his person. To reach out and take Millicent's arms from behind in both hands. In the mirror again comes that smile. I've got to slowly turn her around. Force the issue from the front. And hear through one's memories one of Beefy's solemn cries. When you strike a blow in defence, dear boy, of carnal knowledge make it resounding. To see now Millicent's incredibly developed eye teeth, their sparkling points as she widens her smile. For me who, without a God to pray to, can never beg to be sent a sweet surprise. And I feel if ever her lips spoke I would hear them say, do not tax your energies unduly on my account. Her eyes look down over her shoulder where grasps my hand. But it was she who said. What about a weekend along the river. That night after she sat wiping her mouth in the restaurant where the waiter flexed his arm in emphasis when suggesting spinach. And the bill came and had me counting off pound notes for hours. Must break through her cool reserve. As Beefy did bust and break when he was a little boy. Living in his granny's big house. He had a carpet cannon with a gleaming brass barrel on its black iron carriage wheels. He brought it into position on the hall balcony and blasted down the huge crystal chandelier. He said choose a day dear boy when one has all one's nerve. Do it now. Regret later. For next after that is never. And dear boy remember it is simply not done to ever let your prick hang in a girlish manner. Don't wait for the moon to go green before grabbing her. With my voice quavering and breaking during these moments. Hearing a whispering Beefy. Outside an evening thrush is chirping. Bestir my bravery. But remember Beefy could beat her at tennis for a start. Spitting on his racket handle before serving like a spring snapping a trap shut. And then quietly and persistently reducing her to a sprawling lunging wreck. I thought it a wee bit ungentlemanly to serve that way to a lady. But changing court, adjusting his white cap and drying off with a pink towel, one heard him whispering quietly, my God the brute fleshy pliability of that girl. I put my lips on her neck under her hair at last. In the perfume smell. On a soft silky skin. A 3i6 little roughness of a spiked eardrop against my cheek. Turn her around and push backwards towards the bed. God forbid she should ever resist. Without even the nerve to ask her now to turn down the bed and undress. Just as I am when someone squeezes on a bench. I always get up and walk away. And goodness our arms are awkwardly engripped. Her lipstick close up rather bright. Reach my hand to go back of her head beneath her hair. Push a little more past these baubles caught between my fingers. My God what was that. Her pearls. Snapped. As she sits up. And they go bouncing. And make a sound as they reach the edge of carpet and roll on the floor.

"My pearls."

"I'm awfully sorry."

'They've gone all over the floor."

"I'll get them. I'll find them. I'm terribly sorry. Please don't upset yourself. I'm sure we'll find them all."

Balthazar B on his knees. Under the bed and dresser. Carefully picking up the whitish round little gems. Gathered into the palm of his hand. And a last two, way in under there. Take off my jacket and squeeze in, gathering plentysome dust on the cuffs and sleeves. Just one shirt gone and three to go.

Millicent sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hand brushing back her hair. Lifting her chin as she peered across into the mirror. I suppose I could tell her the funny little story of how Beefy goes racing round the streets, pushing open doors of painting galleries and screaming in, fakes. But instead I must to the bathroom go and button back together again one's double breasted coat. And take a timorous pee. Or tell her that Beefy said there are too many baronets mixed up with buggery these days.

"I do hope they're all accounted for Millicent. I'll put them in this envelope and take them to Asprey's first thing Monday to have them restrung. I am awfully sorry."

"They were my mother's."

"I am terribly sorry."

"Given to me on my twenty first."

"You are twenty three now, isn't that correct."

"Yes."

"Well what say we just. Fm sorry Fve forgotten what I was going to suggest. I think I'll just go down for a moment to get some cigarettes."

"I didn't know you smoked."

" I haven't much done so before. As a matter of fact. Ill only be a moment."

Balthazar descending to the lobby. Crossing into the cozy oak panelled bar. The news of weather coming from the radio. A complex depression centered over England and moving west. Clouds and some showers are expected. Further outlook, rain moving east will cover all parts of southern England. And will not save me from melancholy and raving madness. As one steps to ask for a double brandy please. My God when will I ever become a man of the world. And put a noisy dirty lady sitting perched high on me spinning like a top, with her red hair waving and her light coloured shoes flying off against the walls. Perhaps it may happen after I have purchased my first cigar.

"May I have one please, that long one there."

"They're three and eight a piece, sir."

"That's very pricy but still I think I'll have one."

Balthazar B taking a sip of brandy and lighting his cigar. A little wooden bird behind the bar dipping and dipping into a jar. So hard to sit alone with one's thoughts now. After busting the beads. And chasing them all over the floor. Dear God when I think of the body of her. When all it needed was just to remain calm and look where one's hands were going. Up behind the hair. Get a newspaper now. And then one shall return. With some current topic of conversation. And have another try.

Balthazar B walked out across the lobby from the bar. To turn to look into the smoking room. The raised voices and opening front door and someone coming in. They say with cigars one doesn't inhale. You just go around puffing and stinking. No newspapers in the smoking room. Make an enquiry. Just wait till these two folk are served. Standing there 3i8 at the reception desk. Yes, right there, they stand in something familiar like a dream one had once somewhere and you think you're having it all over again. Because those two people, right there, in front of the open registration book. They look like the father and the mother of Millicent. And Fll just pass on now over here and wait. To stop. And turn again and look. My God. That is the mother and father of Millicent.

Balthazar B stood frozen thinly on the red tiled floor in his grey double breasted pin stripe suit. A silk shirt tiny knotted at the collar by a black silk tie with a three legged emblem sprinkled on it like stars. Millicent's mother and father turning as one, as the landlady pointed her finger right at me. And I took a deep intake of cigar. The smoke filling out my jowls and stacked and packed down my throat. To all explode at once. And send me staggering forward in a fit of coughing as these three folk watched. And two of them caught their breath. And two of them began to approach.

Balthazar B looking out from uncontrollably rolling eyes, gasping and speechless. The tints and hues of Millicent's mother somewhere near. And for no accountable reason one thinks of that distasteful English habit of wetting the finger and putting it in one's companion's ear. As Millicent's mother now points with her own finger towards the smoking room. Which one can hardly see. But follow this way. Beefy always ran to elderly blind old age pensioners to lead them safely across the street and have a joke with them on the way. As I step quite sordidly across into a blaze of socially ostracised eternity. Beefy always warned. Of what the English so expertly do. Is to take one's composure utterly away. Mine is gone. Left with only my green colour changing to alabaster white.

"As Millicent's mother I am shocked more than I can say. In fact Stephen please, would you order me a whisky, double. No need to go into why we're here, the fact is we are. And have seen the register with our own eyes. I am absolutely aghast and surprised at you. Certainly one never expected someone to whom the hospitality of one's own house has been offered to stoop as low as this. One can only ask now have we come upon this too late."

"No no you haven't."

"Where may I ask is Millicent."

"She's upstairs."

"I see. Poor girl. Taken to a place like this. Of all things. A hotel on a river. Is there an explanation. Or are you taking this matter casually."

"No madam. I'm not."

"Why aren't you speaking up. Or do you suppose more subterfuge will help. As since when is Crescent Curve suddenly in Mayfair. Or is the truth that you have deliberately taken my daughter here with the intention of ravishing her."

"No no I didn't."

"You didn't. You didn't ravish her. Is that what you're saying. With my daughter up there in the same bedroom, registered as Mrs. Balthazar B. You haven't ravished her."

"I know that my redeemer liveth."

"You what."

"Fm sorry. I don't know what I'm saying."

"That's very apparent. As is also that you don't deny abducting my daughter."

"I haven't done anything. Her pearls fell on the floor."

"Her pearls. O my God. Stephen. Did you hear. She had to fight for her honour. O my God thank you, I need that whisky. Millicent had to fight. It came to that. Her pearls strewn everywhere in the struggle. I must go to her."

"No no, they just fell apart."

"Fell apart. As you used force. On my daughter."

"Your daughter is much stronger than I am."

"O my heavenly God. In just one moment I think I shall get completely hysterical. Stephen go please and close that door. This could lead to scandal. Front page of every paper in Europe. My daughter forced to submit."

"Please I only weigh ten stone two. And your daughter Millicent weighs ten stone four."

"As if her weight mattered. At a time like this. And what may I ask are your intentions."

"Well I suppose to leave. As soon as possible.' "Leave. You mean walk out. Just like that. Millicent was presented at Court. She was outstanding as one of the leading debutantes of the season. And you, you're going to leave. Have you no scruples."

"Well Fm not awfully well at this moment. But perhaps later."

"Later. My husband Stephen here is in the motor trade. Some of our best friends pass on this very road outside. Not more than a few yards from the bedroom to which you dragged our daughter. How is she now going to confront some honourable gentleman who will hear of these heinous hours spent here in this place. Are you aware that she is in receipt of a written proposal from a peer of the realm."

"Fm sorry, I didn't know."

"Well she is. And that may be now ruined forever. One hopes one does not have to resort to sordid measures. But in the circumstances I have no alternative but to ask you. What are your intentions towards our daughter. Availing yourself as you so obviously have of the prerogatives of the marriage chamber. Can you answer me that."

Balthazar B his hands placed neatly palms down flat on each thigh. Stephen pretended to look out on the river. And I face these eyes accusingly glued to me as I sneak away cowering into the Austrian Alps and there am seen peeing on a defenceless mountain flower. Sitting here nearly waiting for one's second childhood to play games missed in the first. Without an erotic hope in one's future. Only antique collecting left to give one a sense of longevity. As the desperations come. When Beefy planned his ad in The Times. Gentleman of razor thin means, bachelor with own dog and gun, suffering slight nervous disability, glad to undertake light administrative work or, in clement weather, prepared to give time tending rose garden in return for congenial permanent accommodation where servants kept. While the present advertiser suffers some slight psychological impairment he is fluent in Urdu. Beefy what do I do. As I struggle heavy footed. Dying amid flashes of sunny memories. When Bella once sat, a picture of a funny little car she said was hers, and I laughed when I heard her say her car was not well, it had been long ailing, so she took it to the car doctor for a little bit of hammering and a little bit of fixing and a little bit of oil and the car doctor gave it medicine and it coughed.

"Coughing is all very well, my dear boy. That is all very well. One only hopes one finds a way out of this before it is too late. And Millicent pregnant. The matter lies with you rather than with us. For the moment anyway. I don't want to go on repeating myself, but what are your intentions towards our daughter."

"I have had good intentions."

"Continue."

"Yes I have had them. But I don't think I know really what to do with them. I know I'm not very good at making myself clear."

"We have until eight fifteen, so by all means continue."

"Well I don't know really, I happen to have had a fear of death."

"What on earth are you talking about. I want to know what your intentions are. And I won't leave this smoking room until I do. Then it will be quite clear to us what steps are to be taken to protect our daughter's interests."

"I only meant I was choking to death before. It's passed now. I have intentions."

"Yes, you have intentions."

"Yes I do."

"I see. Intentions to do what."

"Well I guess a lot of things."

"What lot of things."

"But I haven't done anything to Millicent."

"You haven't. Surely you must be joking. Stephen I think we had better reserve our rights and seek legal advice."

"O my God. Don't."

"Don't. Of course we shall."

"I'll marry maybe, if that is, I mean o my God, my trustees would have to approve.' "You'll marry maybe. O that's very nice to know. And also we can acquaint your trustees then fully."

"O God no. Please leave it to me."

"Well then. This perhaps is a little different. But you seem so sure Millicent will marry you."

"No I'm not."

"But you intend then to marry Millicent."

"I think maybe I do."

"You think. You'd better know."

"I know."

"I'm sorry to have to put matters like that. But one can't go on bantering and bandying."

"Yes. I'll marry Millicent."

"I hope you won't think for one second that either Milli-cent's father or I want you to marry Millicent if you would really prefer to worm away like a cad."

"O no. Not nice. A cad. Would you mind. I think I may require the use of a water closet. Thank you."

Balthazar rushing from the room. Across the lobby into the bar where he reached to grab his still waiting brandy as he passed. To feel the bowel beginning to move. As one rushed to get into these cool shadows and quickly lower drawers. No one has ever seen a kangaroo screw. Yet somehow I've been seen. And wasn't screwing. I could do worse. She's big and awfully stong with a lot of curves. Live with the constant fear of being beaten up by a woman in a fair fight. Beefy says without cash use courage and I'm without courage and can't use cash. And soon by the feel of it I'll have piles too. Chains winding round one with an eternal clank. Can't leap from the crapper here and go chasing so hopelessly after freedom. Only thing left now is to rest and ruminate without rusting. Be parsley sprinkled on everyone else's soup. The shadow's of her two nipples pressed against her beige silk. Her legs back and forth across the tennis court. The long tan muscles winking on her thighs. To catch a glimpse of her arse cheek as she wound up to serve. That's what I watched because she slammed so hard I couldn't see the ball. And her father seems to have two glass eyes. The Sunday I went to tea. Had a postage stamp of cucumber sandwich and declined a piece of cake. I agreed with everything they said to me. Given them such a headstart. They said with all Millicent's suitors the phone never stopped ringing. And her mother sighed when she said it would be such a rest when Millicent was finally engaged. And I wondered then how they ever knew my father had been connected with cement and wine, cars and pulp. How long I can hold out in here. Before Millicent's mother comes in and gets me. O my God. I am heartily sorry for myself. My ears are burning, they feel very red. They'll be searching my bag upstairs. Full of French letters. Must keep a grip. Millicent's breasts are multiplying right in front of my eyes. This is what one gets. Not staying home and reading the parish magazine. And Millicent's mother's eyes during the time she spoke to me, kept dipping and staring at my flies. And the words I was hearing. Have you any dirty habits you've come here with from abroad. For instance, the crabs. O my God. How can one ever be. Ideally suited for the world. And.

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