Brian Friel Plays 1 (14 page)

CANON
:
The thin end of the wedge, eh, as the Bishop says? No, Sean, the way I see it, a half-penny a game’ll neither make nor break either of us.

(
Enter
MADGE
with
cups
of
tea
and
a
plate
of
biscuits
.)

MADGE
:
Have you begun already?

S.B
.:
Shh!

MADGE
:
If it was turkeys or marble clocks they were playing for they couldn’t be more serious!

S.B
.:
Quiet!

MADGE
:
Agh!

(
She
leaves
their
tea
beside
them
and
brings
a
cup
over
to
PUBLIC
.
They
talk
in
undertones
.)

MADGE
:
Wouldn’t you love to throw it round them!

PUBLIC
:
Scalding hot!

MADGE
:
And raise blisters on their aul bald pates! – God forgive me!

PUBLIC
:
Madge.

MADGE
:
What?

PUBLIC
:
Why don’t you take a run over to see the new baby?

MADGE
:
I’ve more on my mind than that.

PUBLIC
:
I’ll put up the jars and wash up these few things.

MADGE
:
And this the last night we’ll have you to torment us?

PUBLIC
:
Go on. Go on. We won’t start swopping the dirty stories till we get you out of the road.

S.B
.:
Shhhhhhh!

PUBLIC
:
Hurry up. Nelly’ll be wondering why you didn’t show up.

MADGE
:
Aye, so.

PUBLIC
:
Your own namesake, isn’t it?

MADGE
:
So she
says
.

PUBLIC
:
Get a move on. You’ll be back before bedtime.

MADGE
:
What d’you think?

PUBLIC
:
Quick!

MADGE
:
I’m away! (
She
takes
a
few
steps
away
and
comes
back
.) Don’t forget: them shirts isn’t right aired.

(
Just
when
she
is
at
the
scullery
door
.)

PUBLIC
:
Madge.

MADGE
:
What is it?

PRIVATE
:
Don’t! Don’t!

PUBLIC
:
Why did my mother marry him (
S.B
.) instead of Master Boyle?

MADGE
:
What?

PUBLIC
:
She went with both of them, didn’t she?

MADGE
:
She married the better man by far.

PUBLIC
:
But she went with Boyle first, didn’t she?

MADGE
:
I’ve told you before: she went with a dozen – that was the kind of her – she couldn’t help herself.

PUBLIC
:
But is that what started Boyle drinking?

MADGE
:
If it was, more fool he. And any other nosing about you want to do, ask the Boss. For you’re not going to pump me. (
She
goes
off
.)

PRIVATE
:
What the hell had you to go and ask that for! Snap, boy, snap! We want no scenes tonight. Get up and clear out of this because you’re liable to get over-excited watching these two dare-devils dicing with death.

(
PUBLIC
takes
his
cup
and
goes
towards
his
bedroom.
)

Into your survival shelter and brood, brood, brood. (
As
if
replying
to
the
draught
players – who
have
not
noticed
his
exit.
) No, no, I’m not leaving. Just going in here to have a wee chat with my Chinese mistress.

(
PUBLIC
goes
into
his
bedroom,
leaving
the
door
open.

PRIVATE
stays
in
the
kitchen.
PUBLIC
in
the
bedroom
mimes
the
actions
of
PRIVATE
in
the
following
sequence.
PRIVATE
stands
at
the
table
between
S.B.
and
CANON
:)

PRIVATE
:
Canon battling tooth and nail for another half-penny; Screwballs fighting valiantly to retain his trousers! Gripped in mortal combat! County Councillor versus Canon! Screwballs versus Canonballs! (
Stares
intently
at
them
.) Hi,
kids! Having fun, kids? (
Gets
to
his
feet,
leans
his
elbow
on
the
table,
and
talks
confidentially
into
their
faces
.) Any chance of a game, huh? Tell me, boys, strictly between ourselves, will you miss me? You will? You really will? But now I want you both to close your eyes – please, my darlings – don’t, don’t argue – just do as I say – just close your eyes and think of all the truly wonderful times we’ve had together. Now! What’ll we chat about, eh? Let’s – chat – about – what? No, Screwballs, not women; not before you-know-who. (
Looking
at
the
CANON
.) Money? Agh, sure, Canon, what interest have you in money? Sure as long as you get to Tenerife for five weeks every winter what interest have you in money? But I’m wasting my time with you, Canon – Screwballs here is different; there’s an affinity between Screwballs and me that no one, literally no one could understand – except you, Canon (
Deadly
serious
), because you’re warm and kind and soft and sympathetic – all things to all men – because you could translate all this loneliness, this groping, this dreadful bloody buffoonery into Christian terms that will make life bearable for us all. And yet you don’t say a word. Why, Canon? Why, arid Canon? Isn’t this your job? – to translate? Why don’t you speak, then? Prudence, arid Canon? Prudence be damned! Christianity isn’t prudent – it’s insane! Or maybe this just happens to be one of your bad nights – (
Suddenly
bright
and
brittle
again
) – A pound to a shilling I make you laugh! (
Dancing
around,
singing
to
the
tune
of
‘
Daisy
’:) ‘Screwballs, Screwballs, give me your answer do. I’m half crazy all for the love of you. I’m off to Philadelphey, and I’ll leave you on the shelfey –’

(
S.B
.
gives
a
short
dry
laugh
.)

PRIVATE
:
A pound you owe me! Money for aul rope! And you, Canon, what about giving us a bar or two?

CANON
:
Aye.

PRIVATE
:
You will? Wonderful! What’ll it be? A pop number? An aul Gregorian come-all-ye? A whack of an aul aria?

CANON
:
I had you cornered.

PRIVATE
:
‘I had you cornered’ – I know it! I know it! I know it! (
Sings
in
the
style
of
a
modern
crooner
.) I had you
cornered/That night in Casablanca/That night you said you loved me – all set? Boys and girls, that top, pop recording star, Kenny O’Byrne and the Ballybeg Buggers in their latest fabulous release, ‘I Had You Cornered’.

(
PRIVATE
stands
with
head
lowered
,
his
foot
tapping,
his
fingers
clicking
in
syncopated
rhythm,
waiting
for
the
CANON
to
begin.
He
keeps
this
up
for
a
few
seconds.
Then
in
time
to
his
own
beat
he
sings
very
softly,
as
he
goes
to
the
bedroom –

(
PUBLIC
suddenly
sits
up
in
bed.
)

Mendelssohn! That’s the bugger’ll tear the guts out of you! (
PUBLIC
puts
on
a
recording
of
the
Second
Movement
of
the
Violin
Concerto,
PRIVATE
,
now
almost
frenzied,
dashes
back
to
the
kitchen
.)

Give us a bar or two, Mendelssohn, aul fella. Come on, lad; resin the aul bow and spit on your hands and give us an aul bar!

(
The
record
begins.
PRIVATE
runs
to
the
table
and
thrusts
his
face
between
the
players.
)

Listen! Listen! Listen! D’you hear it? D’you know what the music says? (
To
S.B
.) It says that once upon a time a boy and his father sat in a blue boat on a lake on an afternoon in May, and on that afternoon a great beauty happened, a beauty that has haunted the boy ever since, because he wonders now did it really take place or did he imagine it. There are only the two of us, he says; each of us is all the other has; and why can we not even look at each other? Have pity on us, he says; have goddam pity on every goddam bloody man jack of us. (
He
comes
away
from
the
table
and
walks
limply
back
to
the
bedroom.
When
he
gets
to
the
bedroom
door
he
turns,
surveys
the
men
.) To hell with all strong silent men!

(
He
goes
into
the
bedroom,
drops
into
the
chair,
and
sits
motionless.
PUBLIC
sinks
back
on
to
the
bed
again.
)

(
Silence
.)

CANON
:
What’s that noise?

S.B
.:
What’s that, Canon?

CANON
:
A noise of some sort.

S.B
.:
Is there?

(
They
listen.
)

S.B
.:
I don’t hear –

CANON
:
Wait.

S.B
.:
Is it –

CANON
:
It’s music – is it?

S.B
.:
Music?

CANON
:
Aye. It’s music.

S.B
.:
That’ll be Gar then.

CANON
:
Oh.

S.B
.:
Playing them records of his.

CANON
:
Thought I heard something.

S.B
.:
All he asks is to sit in there and play them records all day.

CANON
:
It makes him happy.

S.B
.:
Terrible man for the records.

CANON
:
Just so, now. It’ll be getting near his time, he tells me.

S.B
.:
Tomorrow morning.

CANON
:
Tomorrow morning.

S.B
.:
Aye, tomorrow morning. Powerful the way time passes, too.

CANON
:
You wait, says she, till the rosary’s over and the kettle’s on.

S.B
.:
A sharp one, Madge.

CANON
:
Ah-hah. There’s hope for you yet.

S.B
.:
I don’t know is there.

CANON
:
No. You’re not too late yet.

S.B
.:
Maybe … maybe …

CANON
:
No, I wouldn’t say die yet – not yet I wouldn’t.

Slow
Curtain