reprimand. ‘Doe shtan… doe shtannon….’
‘Ceremony, sir,’ Don finished on Eastlight’s behalf. ‘Don’t stand on ceremony. I can tell you I’m not.’
But Eastlight had other ideas about how to finish his own sentence. He started to sing the chorus from ‘Don’t Stand So Close To Me’, his voice cracking into more peals of laughter by the end.
Don ground his roll-up in the multicoloured gravel in front of Cage 1. The birds within made sudden busy movements and squawks of protest as their keeper said, ‘You should take your own advice, sir, about standing so close to someone.’
The comment sobered Eastlight almost immediately. ‘Meaning?’ he demanded. ‘There’s two foot between us!’
‘There wasn’t earlier, when you rolled in,’ Don answered calmly. ‘All over me like a rash, you were, sir. I was quite uncomfortable, if you’ll forgive me.’
‘If I’ll forgive you…’ Eastlight smiled. ‘Because I’m one of them , no doubt. Your shensh. Your shenshibilities have been affun. Affronted.’
Seeing no obvious way out of this altercation – even welcoming it in a way as something that had to be faced eventually, so why not now? – Don plucked tobacco from his poacher’s pocket and rolled himself another smoke, arguing that he didn’t know what one of them meant.
‘A homosexual, Donald Duck! I’m as queer as folk! Good with colours! I’m a poof .’
Donald shrugged and lit his cigarette. ‘Easy come, easy go,’ he breathed out with his first lungful of smoke.
It hadn’t been intended as a joke, but it set Eastlight off again. This time the man felt obliged to cling to the cage’s wire mesh for support; the sight of his podgy fingers oozing through the mesh made Don shiver, but it also gave him a brief flash of revengeful fantasy, something like a garrotting, and Don even found it in himself to smile for a second while Eastlight laughed himself into recovery.
Presently a silence fell between them. Eastlight broke it.
‘I’ll tell you what, Donald, how’s this for a proposition? You roll me one of those cigarettes with one hand like you just did, and you promise to try to teach me to do the same – and I promise not to stand too close to you again like the smelly queer I am.’
‘You’re not smelly, sir. And I didn’t have a clue you made hay with the farmboys –‘
‘Jesus.’
‘ – It’s just, sir… I’m a solitary man. Put the work in my hand and a pound in my pocket, do you know what I mean? Makes me happy the day’s long… But yes, since you asked nicely, I will roll you a smoke. With my pleasure.’
Eastlight laughed again, briefly this time. ‘Make hay with the farmboys,’ he repeated, ‘I’ll try to remember that – tell Mass in the morning,’ he mumbled on, eagerly watching Don execute his party trick. ‘I say it to everyone early, Donald: saves any confusion in the long run. Or embarrassment.’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘Charlie. Call me Charlie, Donald. The sir shit is so nineteenth century… Thank you. What tobacco?’
‘Drum.’ Don flicked his lighter for the cigarette now between Eastlight’s lips. A few of the birds flinched at the flare.
‘Thank you, Donald… Nice.’ Eastlight cupped his free hand to his left ear. ‘Soft! What sound from yonder mansion breaks?’ He smiled. ‘I think you’re on call again, Donald: some more on their way to see the birds, if my ears don’t deceive me.’
‘My privilege,’ Don replied, shrugging once more.
‘I’ll see you later, pal. I’m glad we had this chat ette .’ With which he turned, and set off to walk back to the house.
‘Just one more thing, sir – Charlie,’ Don called.
Eastlight turned again. ‘Yes?’
‘Call me Donald Duck again and I’ll shatter your knees. Have a good evening.’
Don faced the birds and tried not to laugh.
5.
Phyllie and Roger were getting ready for bed.
‘Did you meet those delightful twins?’ Roger asked, pulling off his boxer
‘Ceremony, sir,’ Don finished on Eastlight’s behalf. ‘Don’t stand on ceremony. I can tell you I’m not.’
But Eastlight had other ideas about how to finish his own sentence. He started to sing the chorus from ‘Don’t Stand So Close To Me’, his voice cracking into more peals of laughter by the end.
Don ground his roll-up in the multicoloured gravel in front of Cage 1. The birds within made sudden busy movements and squawks of protest as their keeper said, ‘You should take your own advice, sir, about standing so close to someone.’
The comment sobered Eastlight almost immediately. ‘Meaning?’ he demanded. ‘There’s two foot between us!’
‘There wasn’t earlier, when you rolled in,’ Don answered calmly. ‘All over me like a rash, you were, sir. I was quite uncomfortable, if you’ll forgive me.’
‘If I’ll forgive you…’ Eastlight smiled. ‘Because I’m one of them , no doubt. Your shensh. Your shenshibilities have been affun. Affronted.’
Seeing no obvious way out of this altercation – even welcoming it in a way as something that had to be faced eventually, so why not now? – Don plucked tobacco from his poacher’s pocket and rolled himself another smoke, arguing that he didn’t know what one of them meant.
‘A homosexual, Donald Duck! I’m as queer as folk! Good with colours! I’m a poof .’
Donald shrugged and lit his cigarette. ‘Easy come, easy go,’ he breathed out with his first lungful of smoke.
It hadn’t been intended as a joke, but it set Eastlight off again. This time the man felt obliged to cling to the cage’s wire mesh for support; the sight of his podgy fingers oozing through the mesh made Don shiver, but it also gave him a brief flash of revengeful fantasy, something like a garrotting, and Don even found it in himself to smile for a second while Eastlight laughed himself into recovery.
Presently a silence fell between them. Eastlight broke it.
‘I’ll tell you what, Donald, how’s this for a proposition? You roll me one of those cigarettes with one hand like you just did, and you promise to try to teach me to do the same – and I promise not to stand too close to you again like the smelly queer I am.’
‘You’re not smelly, sir. And I didn’t have a clue you made hay with the farmboys –‘
‘Jesus.’
‘ – It’s just, sir… I’m a solitary man. Put the work in my hand and a pound in my pocket, do you know what I mean? Makes me happy the day’s long… But yes, since you asked nicely, I will roll you a smoke. With my pleasure.’
Eastlight laughed again, briefly this time. ‘Make hay with the farmboys,’ he repeated, ‘I’ll try to remember that – tell Mass in the morning,’ he mumbled on, eagerly watching Don execute his party trick. ‘I say it to everyone early, Donald: saves any confusion in the long run. Or embarrassment.’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘Charlie. Call me Charlie, Donald. The sir shit is so nineteenth century… Thank you. What tobacco?’
‘Drum.’ Don flicked his lighter for the cigarette now between Eastlight’s lips. A few of the birds flinched at the flare.
‘Thank you, Donald… Nice.’ Eastlight cupped his free hand to his left ear. ‘Soft! What sound from yonder mansion breaks?’ He smiled. ‘I think you’re on call again, Donald: some more on their way to see the birds, if my ears don’t deceive me.’
‘My privilege,’ Don replied, shrugging once more.
‘I’ll see you later, pal. I’m glad we had this chat ette .’ With which he turned, and set off to walk back to the house.
‘Just one more thing, sir – Charlie,’ Don called.
Eastlight turned again. ‘Yes?’
‘Call me Donald Duck again and I’ll shatter your knees. Have a good evening.’
Don faced the birds and tried not to laugh.
5.
Phyllie and Roger were getting ready for bed.
‘Did you meet those delightful twins?’ Roger asked, pulling off his boxer
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