Counterparts
THE bell rang furiously and, when Miss Parker went to the tube, afurious voice called out in a piercing North of Ireland accent:"Send Farrington here!"Miss Parker returned to her machine, saying to a man who waswriting at a desk:"Mr. Alleyne wants you upstairs."The man muttered "Blast him!" under his breath and pushed backhis chair to stand up. When he stood up he was tall and of greatbulk. He had a hanging face, dark wine-coloured, with faireyebrows and moustache: his eyes bulged forward slightly and thewhites of them were dirty. He lifted up the counter and, passing bythe clients, went out of the office with a heavy step.He went heavily upstairs until he came to the second landing,where a door bore a brass plate with the inscription Mr. Alleyne.Here he halted, puffing with labour and vexation, and knocked.The shrill voice cried:"Come in!"The man entered Mr. Alleyne's room. Simultaneously Mr. Alleyne,a little man wearing gold-rimmed glasses on a cleanshaven face,shot his head up over a pile of documents. The head itself was sopink and hairless it seemed like a large egg reposing on the papers.Mr. Alleyne did not lose a moment:"Farrington? What is the meaning of this? Why have I always tocomplain of you? May I ask you why you haven't made a copy ofthat contract between Bodley and Kirwan? I told you it must beready by four o'clock.""But Mr. Shelley said, sir----""Mr. Shelley said, sir .... Kindly attend to what I say and not towhat Mr. Shelley says, sir. You have always some excuse oranother for shirking work. Let me tell you that if the contract is notcopied before this evening I'll lay the matter before Mr. Crosbie....Do you hear me now?""Yes, sir.""Do you hear me now?... Ay and another little matter! I might aswell be talking to the wall as talking to you. Understand once forall that you get a half an hour for your lunch and not an hour and ahalf. How many courses do you want, I'd like to know.... Do youmind me now?""Yes, sir."Mr. Alleyne bent his head again upon his pile of papers. The manstared fixedly at the polished skull which directed the affairs ofCrosbie & Alleyne, gauging its fragility. A spasm of rage grippedhis throat for a few moments and then passed, leaving after it asharp sensation of thirst. The man recognised the sensation and feltthat he must have a good night's drinking. The middle of the monthwas passed and, if he could get the copy done in time, Mr. Alleynemight give him an order on the cashier. He stood still, gazingfixedly at the head upon the pile of papers. Suddenly Mr. Alleynebegan to upset all the papers, searching for something. Then, as ifhe had been unaware of the man's presence till that moment, heshot up his head again, saying:"Eh? Are you going to stand there all day? Upon my word,Farrington, you take things easy!""I was waiting to see...""Very good, you needn't wait to see. Go downstairs and do yourwork."The man walked heavily towards the door and, as he went out ofthe room, he heard Mr. Alleyne cry after him that if the contractwas not copied by evening Mr. Crosbie would hear of the matter.He returned to his desk in the lower office and counted the sheetswhich remained to be copied. He took up his pen and dipped it inthe ink but he continued to stare stupidly at the last words he hadwritten: In no case shall the said Bernard Bodley be... The eveningwas falling and in a few minutes they would be lighting the gas:then he could write. He felt that he must slake the thirst in histhroat. He stood up from his desk and, lifting the counter as before,passed out of the office. As he was passing out the chief clerklooked at him inquiringly."It's all right, Mr. Shelley," said the man, pointing with his fingerto indicate the objective of his journey.The chief clerk glanced at the hat-rack, but, seeing the rowcomplete, offered no remark. As soon as he was on the landing theman pulled a shepherd's plaid cap out of his pocket, put it on hishead and ran quickly down the rickety stairs. From the street doorhe walked on furtively on the inner side of the path towards thecorner and all at once dived into a doorway. He was now safe inthe dark snug of O'Neill's shop, and filling up the little windowthat looked into the bar with his inflamed face, the colour of darkwine or dark meat, he called out:"Here, Pat, give us a g.p.. like a good fellow."The curate brought him a glass of plain porter. The man drank it ata gulp and asked for a caraway seed. He put his penny on thecounter and, leaving the curate to grope for it in the gloom,retreated out of the snug as furtively as he had entered it.Darkness, accompanied by a thick fog, was gaining upon the duskof February and the lamps in Eustace Street had been lit. The manwent up by the houses until he reached the door of the office,wondering whether he could finish his copy in time. On the stairs amoist pungent odour of perfumes saluted his nose: evidently MissDelacour had come while he was out in O'Neill's. He crammed hiscap back again into his pocket and re-entered the office, assumingan air of absentmindedness."Mr. Alleyne has been calling for you," said the chief clerkseverely. "Where were you?"The man glanced at the two clients who were standing at thecounter as if to intimate that their presence prevented him fromanswering. As the clients were both male the chief clerk allowedhimself a laugh."I know that game," he said. "Five times in one day is a little bit...Well, you better look sharp and get a copy of our correspondencein the Delacour case for Mr. Alleyne."This address in the presence of the public, his run upstairs and theporter he had gulped down so hastily confused the man and, as hesat down at his desk to get what was required, he realised howhopeless was the task of finishing his copy of the contract beforehalf past five. The dark damp night was coming and he longed tospend it in the bars, drinking with his friends amid the glare of gasand the clatter of glasses. He got out the Delacour correspondenceand passed out of the office. He hoped Mr. Alleyne would notdiscover that the last two letters were missing.The moist pungent perfume lay all the way up to Mr. Alleyne'sroom. Miss Delacour was a middle-aged woman of Jewishappearance. Mr. Alleyne was said to be sweet on her or on hermoney. She came to the office often and stayed a long time whenshe came. She was sitting beside his desk now in an aroma ofperfumes, smoothing the handle of her umbrella and nodding thegreat black feather in her hat. Mr. Alleyne had swivelled his chairround to face her and thrown his right foot jauntily upon his leftknee. The man put the correspondence on the desk and bowedrespectfully but neither Mr. Alleyne nor Miss Delacour took anynotice of his bow. Mr. Alleyne tapped a finger on thecorrespondence and then flicked it towards him as if to say: "That'sall right: you can go."The man returned to the lower office and sat down again at hisdesk. He stared intently at the incomplete phrase: In no case shallthe said Bernard Bodley be... and thought how strange it was thatthe last three words began with the same letter. The chief clerkbegan to hurry Miss Parker, saying she would never have theletters typed in time for post. The man listened to the clicking ofthe machine for a few minutes and then set to work to finish hiscopy. But his head was not clear and his mind wandered away tothe glare and rattle of the public-house. It was a night for hotpunches. He struggled on with his copy, but when the clock struckfive he had still fourteen pages to write. Blast it! He couldn't finishit in time. He longed to execrate aloud, to bring his fist down onsomething violently. He was so enraged that he wrote BernardBernard instead of Bernard Bodley and had to begin again on aclean sheet.He felt strong enough to clear out the whole office singlehanded.His body ached to do something, to rush out and revel in violence.All the indignities of his life enraged him.... Could he ask thecashier privately for an advance? No, the cashier was no good, nodamn good: he wouldn't give an advance.... He knew where hewould meet the boys: Leonard and O'Halloran and Nosey Flynn.The barometer of his emotional nature was set for a spell of riot.His imagination had so abstracted him that his name was calledtwice before he answered. Mr. Alleyne and Miss Delacour werestanding outside the counter and all the clerks had turn round inanticipation of something. The man got up from his desk. Mr.Alleyne began a tirade of abuse, saying that two letters weremissing. The man answered that he knew nothing about them, thathe had made a faithful copy. The tirade continued: it was so bitterand violent that the man could hardly restrain his fist fromdescending upon the head of the manikin before him:"I know nothing about any other two letters," he said stupidly."You--know--nothing. Of course you know nothing," said Mr.Alleyne. "Tell me," he added, glancing first for approval to thelady beside him, "do you take me for a fool? Do you think me anutter fool?"The man glanced from the lady's face to the little egg-shaped headand back again; and, almost before he was aware of it, his tonguehad found a felicitous moment:"I don't think, sir," he said, "that that's a fair question to put to me."There was a pause in the very breathing of the clerks. Everyonewas astounded (the author of the witticism no less than hisneighbours) and Miss Delacour, who was a stout amiable person,began to smile broadly. Mr. Alleyne flushed to the hue of a wildrose and his mouth twitched with a dwarf s passion. He shook hisfist in the man's face till it seemed to vibrate like the knob of someelectric machine:"You impertinent ruffian! You impertinent ruffian! I'll make shortwork of you! Wait till you see! You'll apologise to me for yourimpertinence or you'll quit the office instanter! You'll quit this, I'mtelling you, or you'll apologise to me!" He stood in a doorway opposite the office watching to see if thecashier would come out alone. All the clerks passed out and finallythe cashier came out with the chief clerk. It was no use trying tosay a word to him when he was with the chief clerk. The man feltthat his position was bad enough. He had been obliged to offer anabject apology to Mr. Alleyne for his impertinence but he knewwhat a hornet's nest the office would be for him. He couldremember the way in which Mr. Alleyne had hounded little Peakeout of the office in order to make room for his own nephew. Hefelt savage and thirsty and revengeful, annoyed with himself andwith everyone else. Mr. Alleyne would never give him an hour'srest; his life would be a hell to him. He had made a proper fool ofhimself this time. Could he not keep his tongue in his cheek? Butthey had never pulled together from the first, he and Mr. Alleyne,ever since the day Mr. Alleyne had overheard him mimicking hisNorth of Ireland accent to amuse Higgins and Miss Parker: thathad been the beginning of it. He might have tried Higgins for themoney, but sure Higgins never had anything for himself. A manwith two establishments to keep up, of course he couldn't....He felt his great body again aching for the comfort of thepublic-house. The fog had begun to chill him and he wonderedcould he touch Pat in O'Neill's. He could not touch him for morethan a bob -- and a bob was no use. Yet he must get moneysomewhere or other: he had spent his last penny for the g.p. andsoon it would be too late for getting money anywhere. Suddenly,as he was fingering his watch-chain, he thought of Terry Kelly'spawn-office in Fleet Street. That was the dart! Why didn't he thinkof it sooner?He went through the narrow alley of Temple Bar quickly,muttering to himself that they could all go to hell because he wasgoing to have a good night of it. The clerk in Terry Kelly's said Acrown! but the consignor held out for six shillings; and in the endthe six shillings was allowed him literally. He came out of thepawn-office joyfully, making a little cylinder, of the coins betweenhis thumb and fingers. In Westmoreland Street the footpaths werecrowded with young men and women returning from business andragged urchins ran here and there yelling out the names of theevening editions. The man passed through the crowd, looking onthe spectacle generally with proud satisfaction and staringmasterfully at the office-girls. His head was full of the noises oftram- gongs and swishing trolleys and his nose already sniffed thecurling fumes punch. As he walked on he preconsidered the termsin which he would narrate the incident to the boys:"So, I just looked at him -- coolly, you know, and looked at her.Then I looked back at him again -- taking my time, you know. 'Idon't think that that's a fair question to put to me,' says I."Nosey Flynn was sitting up in his usual corner of Davy Byrne'sand, when he heard the story, he stood Farrington a half-one,saying it was as smart a thing as ever he heard. Farrington stood adrink in his turn. After a while O'Halloran and Paddy Leonardcame in and the story was repeated to them. O'Halloran stoodtailors of malt, hot, all round and told the story of the retort he hadmade to the chief clerk when he was in Callan's of Fownes's Street;but, as the retort was after the manner of the liberal shepherds inthe eclogues, he had to admit that it was not as clever asFarrington's retort. At this Farrington told the boys to polish offthat and have another.Just as they were naming their poisons who should come in butHiggins! Of course he had to join in with the others. The menasked him to give his version of it, and he did so with greatvivacity for the sight of five small hot whiskies was veryexhilarating. Everyone roared laughing when he showed the way inwhich Mr. Alleyne shook his fist in Farrington's face. Then heimitated Farrington, saying, "And here was my nabs, as cool as youplease," while Farrington looked at the company out of his heavydirty eyes, smiling and at times drawing forth stray drops of liquorfrom his moustache with the aid of his lower lip.When that round was over there was a pause. O'Halloran hadmoney but neither of the other two seemed to have any; so thewhole party left the shop somewhat regretfully. At the corner ofDuke Street Higgins and Nosey Flynn bevelled off to the left whilethe other three turned back towards the city. Rain was drizzlingdown on the cold streets and, when they reached the BallastOffice, Farrington suggested the Scotch House. The bar was full ofmen and loud with the noise of tongues and glasses. The three menpushed past the whining matchsellers at the door and formed alittle party at the corner of the counter. They began to exchangestories. Leonard introduced them to a young fellow namedWeathers who was performing at the Tivoli as an acrobat andknockabout artiste. Farrington stood a drink all round. Weatherssaid he would take a small Irish and Apollinaris. Farrington, whohad definite notions of what was what, asked the boys would theyhave an Apollinaris too; but the boys told Tim to make theirs hot.The talk became theatrical. O'Halloran stood a round and thenFarrington stood another round, Weathers protesting that thehospitality was too Irish. He promised to get them in behind thescenes and introduce them to some nice girls. O'Halloran said thathe and Leonard would go, but that Farrington wouldn't go becausehe was a married man; and Farrington's heavy dirty eyes leered atthe company in token that he understood he was being chaffed.Weathers made them all have just one little tincture at his expenseand promised to meet them later on at Mulligan's in PoolbegStreet.When the Scotch House closed they went round to Mulligan's.They went into the parlour at the back and O'Halloran orderedsmall hot specials all round. They were all beginning to feelmellow. Farrington was just standing another round whenWeathers came back. Much to Farrington's relief he drank a glassof bitter this time. Funds were getting low but they had enough tokeep them going. Presently two young women with big hats and ayoung man in a check suit came in and sat at a table close by.Weathers saluted them and told the company that they were out ofthe Tivoli. Farrington's eyes wandered at every moment in thedirection of one of the young women. There was somethingstriking in her appearance. An immense scarf of peacock-bluemuslin was wound round her hat and knotted in a great bow underher chin; and she wore bright yellow gloves, reaching to the elbow.Farrington gazed admiringly at the plump arm which she movedvery often and with much grace; and when, after a little time, sheanswered his gaze he admired still more her large dark brown eyes.The oblique staring expression in them fascinated him. Sheglanced at him once or twice and, when the party was leaving theroom, she brushed against his chair and said "O, pardon!" in aLondon accent. He watched her leave the room in the hope that shewould look back at him, but he was disappointed. He cursed hiswant of money and cursed all the rounds he had stood, particularlyall the whiskies and Apolinaris which he had stood to Weathers. Ifthere was one thing that he hated it was a sponge. He was so angrythat he lost count of the conversation of his friends.When Paddy Leonard called him he found that they were talkingabout feats of strength. Weathers was showing his biceps muscleto the company and boasting so much that the other two had calledon Farrington to uphold the national honour. Farrington pulled uphis sleeve accordingly and showed his biceps muscle to thecompany. The two arms were examined and compared and finallyit was agreed to have a trial of strength. The table was cleared andthe two men rested their elbows on it, clasping hands. When PaddyLeonard said "Go!" each was to try to bring down the other's handon to the table. Farrington looked very serious and determined.The trial began. After about thirty seconds Weathers brought hisopponent's hand slowly down on to the table. Farrington's darkwine-coloured face flushed darker still with anger and humiliationat having been defeated by such a stripling."You're not to put the weight of your body behind it. Play fair," hesaid."Who's not playing fair?" said the other."Come on again. The two best out of three."The trial began again. The veins stood out on Farrington'sforehead, and the pallor of Weathers' complexion changed topeony. Their hands and arms trembled under the stress. After along struggle Weathers again brought his opponent's hand slowlyon to the table. There was a murmur of applause from thespectators. The curate, who was standing beside the table, noddedhis red head towards the victor and said with stupid familiarity:"Ah! that's the knack!""What the hell do you know about it?" said Farrington fiercely,turning on the man. "What do you put in your gab for?""Sh, sh!" said O'Halloran, observing the violent expression ofFarrington's face. "Pony up, boys. We'll have just one little smahanmore and then we'll be off." A very sullen-faced man stood at the corner of O'Connell Bridgewaiting for the little Sandymount tram to take him home. He wasfull of smouldering anger and revengefulness. He felt humiliatedand discontented; he did not even feel drunk; and he had onlytwopence in his pocket. He cursed everything. He had done forhimself in the office, pawned his watch, spent all his money; andhe had not even got drunk. He began to feel thirsty again and helonged to be back again in the hot reeking public-house. He hadlost his reputation as a strong man, having been defeated twice bya mere boy. His heart swelled with fury and, when he thought ofthe woman in the big hat who had brushed against him and saidPardon! his fury nearly choked him.His tram let him down at Shelbourne Road and he steered his greatbody along in the shadow of the wall of the barracks. He loathedreturning to his home. When he went in by the side- door he foundthe kitchen empty and the kitchen fire nearly out. He bawledupstairs:"Ada! Ada!"His wife was a little sharp-faced woman who bullied her husbandwhen he was sober and was bullied by him when he was drunk.They had five children. A little boy came running down the stairs."Who is that?" said the man, peering through the darkness."Me, pa.""Who are you? Charlie?""No, pa. Tom.""Where's your mother?""She's out at the chapel.""That's right.... Did she think of leaving any dinner for me?""Yes, pa. I --""Light the lamp. What do you mean by having the place indarkness? Are the other children in bed?"The man sat down heavily on one of the chairs while the little boylit the lamp. He began to mimic his son's flat accent, saying half tohimself: "At the chapel. At the chapel, if you please!" When thelamp was lit he banged his fist on the table and shouted:"What's for my dinner?""I'm going... to cook it, pa," said the little boy.The man jumped up furiously and pointed to the fire."On that fire! You let the fire out! By God, I'll teach you to do thatagain!"He took a step to the door and seized the walking-stick which wasstanding behind it."I'll teach you to let the fire out!" he said, rolling up his sleeve inorder to give his arm free play.The little boy cried "O, pa!" and ran whimpering round the table,but the man followed him and caught him by the coat. The littleboy looked about him wildly but, seeing no way of escape, fellupon his knees."Now, you'll let the fire out the next time!" said the man striking athim vigorously with the stick. "Take that, you little whelp!"The boy uttered a squeal of pain as the stick cut his thigh. Heclasped his hands together in the air and his voice shook withfright."O, pa!" he cried. "Don't beat me, pa! And I'll... I'll say a Hail Maryfor you.... I'll say a Hail Mary for you, pa, if you don't beat me....I'll say a Hail Mary...."
Counterparts was featured as
TheShort Story of the Day on
Sun, Jan 01, 2012
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