Tom Murphy Chapter 8

Heave ho, I said.

Gustav was as quick as a cat over my shoulders through the window. I stooped, and Maria climbed heavily over my shoulders. Her brother pulled her up through the window. With the agility of a monkey, I inched up the wall crevices. Gustav grabbed me and we tumbled into the magic house.

We all evaded our eyes from the ‘House Sale’ sign in the windows that were gilded with frosty lilies and roses. I also had some doubts we should be here at all. But I knew such common place thoughts would never trouble the Rosenblums. The magic house was the last dwelling in the street to overlook the river and the childrens play park. Even now we could hear the shouts of children and the whining of swings. The river steamer tooted at the dock below us. I felt my heart swell at those familiar sounds. The Rosenblum children were already searching out their new won treasure. No adult this time would spoil their rambling.

Already we were convinced we were the owners of this magic abode. The world out there already seemed a bad fading dream. We were in a magic Kingdom where soft snow gently fell and covered over our treasures and at last ourselves. Under its pure flakes we would meet the Snow Queen who would warm us under her furs. We soon found out the snow drifts were only dust sheets covering over the furniture. Soon Gustav had his note book out and was busy sketching.

This will be my studio, said Gustav. He pointed to the living room. I will have the double bedroom, and you Tom can have this room.

He showed me a cubicle not much bigger than a broom cupboard.

This most recent excursion with the Rosenblums had been hatched after I had pulled out of Gustav's plan to kidnap Vicky. Gustav had shown me one evening a lottery advertisement in a street stall of a man without legs. Men without all their bits were so usual that I would have noticed their absence in a public place. ‘Limbies’ everyone called them. They always looked shabby and hungry. They were the wounded heroes from the Great War.

‘Diggers Art Union, £4000 in prizes,’ ran the legend in the posters on the front of the street stall table. On a white sheet behind the limbie there was emblazoned: ‘GOOD LUCK £4000 Buy Tickets TODAY’

Gustav got very excited. His eyes blazed and he grabbed my hand.

The first prize for a 2s 6d ticket is two thousand pounds. If we go shares in the winning ticket, we will be able to buy a house.

I was very nonchalant. I well knew Dad's opinions on the art union lotteries.

They have these monster lotteries to make us workers waste our money and fight among ourselves instead of fighting them. You meet big prize winners as often as you meet people tipped a shilling by King George, Dad would snort.

Gustav ignored me and took out his little black notebook. He began to set out a list of numbers and calculate them. He nodded his head in his self conceited sure way.

Give me your share, he demanded

I would have loved at that point to have told him to go to hell. But that was too late. I meekly handed over my half share.

Gustav took out of his pocket his share. He went over to the limbie. While the limbie looked perplexed, Gustav leafed through the lottery book. His eyes bored into the ticket numbers in a fixed riveting gaze. Suddenly he said as if he had already found his gold treasure,

Here it is!

We paid for the ticket and scampered. Gustav nudged me with increasing excitement. In his wild thoughts we had already won. I too was soon convinced. All that was missing from the Rosenblums was money. Now they had that too. Our joy knew no bounds.

Gustav was – as ever – eminently sensible and calculating how we would spend the proceeds. We would search the town for the most suitable house to buy. He would need a studio to concentrate upon his architectural and musical studies. I would have a metal and wood workshop to resume my technical education.

Gustav nudged me. We would collaborate. He would teach me how to make the most efficient and modern furniture to fill the houses and offices he would design for the city. Gustav was filled with contempt for the architecture of the city's public buildings. His eyes shone, his downy upper lip quivered and sweated, his arms gesticulated, as he delivered forth his vision. He would tear down these mausoleums and barns and rebuild them in shiny steel and glass. His contempt was lavished most of all at the city council buildings.

These city fathers know as much about architecture as a hippopotamus knows about playing the violin, he stormed.

Gustav's words soon intoxicated me with a vision of the city metamorphosed into the future. It was a future that disquieted me as I noted he never seemed to mention anyone I could recognise in it. It seemed we were to be his ants in his master design.

His plans did not stop at our city. We would attract students to study under us. Many would be his former classmates from school in Germany. Our city would be a haven for reopening a school of art and design he had planned to study at in Germany. That was now closed down in that country. One day, this reopened school in our city would be famous all over the world. He would train me up to be a master craftsman. I, under his tutelage would design and make furniture so efficient and streamlined that all the world must adopt it. Today's household furniture would be tomorrow's ‘Chunky Junk’, as Gustav put it.

When my name came up in Gustav's master plans, I felt a sinking feeling I was on another mirage conjured up by Gustav. But I kept my thoughts to myself.

Maria and Mrs Rosenblum would move in to the new house with us.

Maria is growing up and should have her own room, said Gustav thoughtfully. Mummy won't need to run that school anymore, she can be our housekeeper and look after the garden.

While we were earnestly discussing these future plans, Maria was darting from room to room with little squeals of delight. With her fidgety hands she swept aside the dust sheets. We boys became speechless at our visions of the grand living of the former occupants. Whoever they were, they were people of shining silver, brass and china. They ate roast goose stuffed with apples and plums at the dinner table. In their living room the Christmas tree glittered like the stars. In the garden outside they lounged on soft chairs and played croquet. As Dad would have put it, they were the top people in top hats who run the world.

I can tell you who they were, said Maria suddenly.

We glanced at her.

There is a mother. She has five children, each is from a different father. There is a Negro child, a Chinese, an English child, a German, and a Jew. Every day she cooks, washes, and stitches for the children. She has a boarder. He is very handsome, but very poor, and shows silent movies at the Gaiety picture theatre. He dreams of the silent stars that shine on his silver screen every night.

There is a girl boarder also, who waits at tables for rich men. He is in love with her, but she has eyes only for her rich patrons. Sometimes at night, an ugly rich owner of a circus freak show visits her and hurts her. The projectionist plots to kill this circus owner. One night, he invites the circus owner and the girl into the projectionist box. While they are watching the movie, he makes the projector catch fire. The circus owner and the girl are burnt to death and he is blinded. Now he is happy. Now nothing can disturb his dreams of the silent stars and her.

Stop it Maria! said Gustav.

Then the Sunday Church bells rang. We all listened joyfully to their stately resonance. Through the living room windows we watched a crowd of people, dowdy but cleanly and neatly dressed, gather around the Church doors. The Church belonged to neither my upbringing nor the Rosenblum children's. But its spire rose high above the town roofs and seemed to speak kindly to all of us.

It was time to leave. When we came back on the following Sunday, we were aggrieved the window had been bolted shut and a trespass notice stuck on the front lawn. Someone had taken away our house. But we were not perturbed. We only had to wait for the announcement of the lottery result.

On the following evening, Gustav made a rare visit to the Murphy household. He was fuming with rage. As soon as he saw me, he let it rip. We hadn't won anything.

This monstrous lottery! stormed Gustav.
Here you see an example of how the rich eat the poor!
No matter what country you go to, it is the same everywhere!

Gustav's grand plans had failed us again.