Brian Friel Plays 1 (7 page)

(
S.B
.
sits
down
at
the
table.
)

Thank you. Remove the hat.

(
S.B
.
takes
off
the
hat
to
say
grace.
He
blesses
himself
.)

On again. (
Hat
on
.) Perfectly trained; the most obedient father I ever had. And now for our nightly lesson in the English language. Repeat slowly after me: another day over.

S.B
.:
Another day over.

PRIVATE
:
Good. Next phrase: I suppose we can’t complain.

S.B
.:
I suppose we can’t complain.

PRIVATE
:
Not bad. Now for a little free conversation. But no obscenities, Father dear; the child is only twenty-five.

(
S.B
.
eats
in
silence.
Pause.
) 

Well, come on, come on! Where’s that old rapier wit of yours, the toast of the Ballybeg coffee houses?

S.B.
:
Did you set the rat-trap in the store?

PUBLIC
:
Aye.

PRIVATE
:
(
Hysterically
) Isn’t he a riot! Oh my God, that father of yours just kills me! But wait – wait – shhh-shhh –

S.B
.:
I didn’t find as many about the year.

PRIVATE
:
Oooooh God! Priceless! Beautiful! Delightful! ‘I didn’t find as many about the year!’ Did you ever hear the beat of that? Wonderful! But isn’t he in form tonight? But isn’t he? You know, it’s not every night that jewels like that, pearls of wisdom on rodent reproduction, drop from those lips! But hold it – hold it –!

(
S.B
.
takes
out
a
handkerchief,
removes
his
teeth,
wraps
them
in
the
handkerchief,
and
puts
them
in
his
pocket.
PRIVATE
exhales
with
satisfaction.
)

PRIVATE
:
Ah! That’s what we were waiting for; complete informality; total relaxation between intimates. Now we can carry on. Screwballs. (
Pause.
) I’m addressing you,

Screwballs.

(
S.B
.
clears
his
throat.
)

Thank you.

(
As
the
following
speech
goes
on
all
trace
of
humour
fades
from
PRIVATE
’
s
voice.
He
becomes
more
and
more
intense
and
it
is
with
an
effort
that
he
keeps
his
voice
under
control
.)

Screwballs, we’ve eaten together like this for the past twenty-odd years, and never once in all that time have you made as much as one unpredictable remark. Now, even though you refuse to acknowledge the fact, Screwballs, I’m leaving you forever. I’m going to Philadelphia, to work in an hotel. And you know why I’m going, Screwballs, don’t you? Because I’m twenty-five, and you treat me as if I were five – I can’t order even a dozen loaves without getting your permission. Because you pay me less than you pay Madge. But worse, far worse than that, Screwballs, because
we
embarrass
one
another.
If one of us were to say, ‘You’re looking tired’ or ‘That’s a bad cough you have’, the other would fall over backways with embarrassment. So tonight d’you know what I want you to do? I want you to make one unpredictable remark, and even though I’ll still be on that plane tomorrow morning, I’ll have doubts: maybe I should have stuck it out; maybe the old codger did have feelings; maybe I have maligned the old bastard. So now, Screwballs, say … (
Thinks
) … ‘Once upon a time a rainbow ended in our garden’ … say, ‘I like to walk across the White Strand when there’s a misty rain falling’ … say, ‘Gar, son –’ say, ‘Gar, you bugger you, why don’t you stick it out here with me for it’s not such a bad aul bugger of a place.’ Go on. Say it! Say it! Say it!

S.B
.:
True enough …

PUBLIC
:
(
Almost
inaudibly
) Aye?

S.B
.:
I didn’t find as many about the year.

PUBLIC
:
(
Roars
) Madge! Madge!

S.B
.:
No need to roar like that.

PUBLIC
:
The – the – the – bread’s done. We need more bread.

S.B
.:
You know where it’s kept, don’t you?

(
MADGE
at
scullery
door.
)

PUBLIC
:
Can we have more bread, Madge … please? …

MADGE
:
Huh! Pity you lost the power of your legs.

PUBLIC
:
I’ll – I’ll get it myself – it doesn’t matter …

(
Madge
comes
over
to
the
table
and
takes
the
plate
from
PUBLIC
.
She
gives
S.B
.
a
hard
look.
)

MADGE
:
(
Irony
)
The chatting in this place would deafen a body. Won’t the house be quiet soon enough – long enough?

(
She
shuffles
off
with
the
plate.
)

PRIVATE
:
Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock. It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of France, then the Dauphiness, at Versailles … Go on! What’s the next line?

(
S.B
.
produces
a
roll
of
money
from
his
pocket
and
puts
it
on
the
table.
)

S.B
.:
I suppose you’ll be looking for your pay.

PUBLIC
:
I earned it.

S.B
.:
I’m not saying you didn’t. It’s all there – you needn’t count it.

PUBLIC
:
I didn’t say I was going to count it, did I?

PRIVATE
:
Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock –

PUBLIC
:
More tea?

S.B
.:
Sure you know I never take a second cup.

PRIVATE
:
(
Imitating
) ‘Sure you know I never take a second cup.’ (
Brittle
and
bright
again.
) Okay, okay, okay, it’s better this way, Screwballs, isn’t it? You can’t teach new tricks to two old dogs like us. In the meantime there’s a little matter I’d like to discuss with you, Screwballs … (
With
exaggerated
embarrassment
)
it’s – it’s nothing really … it’s just something I’m rather hesitant to bring up, but I’m advised by the very best Church authorities that you’ll be only too glad to discuss it with your son. Admittedly we’re both a bit late in attacking the issue now, but – ha – you see –

(
MADGE
enters
with
a
plate
of
bread.
PRIVATE
makes
a
very
obvious
show
of
changing
the
subject.
)

Oh marvellous weather – truly wonderful for the time of year – a real heat wave – all things considered –

MADGE
:
A body couldn’t get a word in edgeways with you two!

PRIVATE
:
Madge has such a keen sense of humour, don’t you
agree? I love people with a sense of humour, don’t you? It’s the first thing I look for in a person. I seize them by the throat and say to them, ‘Have you a sense of humour?’ And then, if they have, I feel – I feel
at
home
with them immediately … But where was I? Oh, yes-our little talk – I’m beginning to wonder, Screwballs – I suspect – I’m afraid – (
I
n
a
rush
,
ashamed)
– I think I’m a sex maniac! (
Throws
his
hands
up
.)
Please, please don’t cry, Screwballs; please don’t say anything; and above all please don’t stop eating. Just – just let me talk a bit more – let me communicate with someone-that’s what they all advise – communicate – pour out your pent-up feelings into a sympathetic ear. So all I ask for the moment is that you listen – just listen to me. As I said, I suspect that I’m an s.m. (
Rapidly,
in
self-defence
) But I’m not the only one, Screwballs; oh indeed I am not; all the boys around – some of them are far worse than I am. (
As
if
he
had
been
asked
the
question
.) Why? Why do I think we’re all s.ms.? Well, because none of us is married. Because we’re never done boasting about the number of hot courts we know – and the point is we’re all virgins. Because –

(
Voices
off
.)

Shhhh! Someone’s coming. Not a word to anybody. This is our secret. Scouts’ honour.

(
Enter
MASTER BOYLE
from
the
scullery.
He
is
around
sixty
,
white-haired,
handsome,
defiant.
He
is
shabbily
dressed;
his
eyes,
head,
hands,
arms
are
constantly
moving-he
sits
for a
moment
and
rises
again
–
he
puts
his
hands
in
his
pockets
and
takes
them
out
again
–
his
eyes
roam
around
the
room
but
see
nothing
.
S.B
.
is
barely
courteous
to
him
.)

S.B
.:
Oh, good night, Master Boyle. How are you doing?

PUBLIC
:
Master.

BOYLE
:
Sean. Gar. No, no, don’t stir. I only dropped in for a second.

PUBLIC
:
Sit over and join us.

BOYLE
:
No. I’m not stopping.

S.B
.:
Here’s a seat for you. I was about to go out to the shop anyway to square up a bit.

BOYLE
:
Don’t let me hold you back.

S.B
.:
I’ll be in again before you leave. Master.

BOYLE
:
If you have work to do …

PRIVATE
:
(
To
S.B
.) Ignorant bastard! (
Looking at
BOYLE
.) On his way to the pub! God, but he’s a sorry wreck too, arrogant and pathetic. And yet whatever it is about you …

BOYLE
:
Tomorrow morning, isn’t it?

PUBLIC
:
Quarter past seven. I’m getting the mail van the length of Strabane.

BOYLE
:
You’re doing the right thing, of course. You’ll never regret it. I gather it’s a vast restless place that doesn’t give a curse about the past; and that’s the way things should be. Impermanence and anonymity – it offers great attractions. You’ve heard about the latest to-do?

PUBLIC
:
Another row with the Canon? I really hadn’t heard –

BOYLE
:
But the point is he can’t sack me! The organization’s behind me and he can’t budge me. Still, it’s a … a bitter victory to hold on to a job when your manager wants rid of you.

PUBLIC
:
Sure everybody knows the kind of the Canon, Master.

BOYLE
:
I didn’t tell you, did I, that I may be going out there myself?

PRIVATE
:
Poor bastard.

BOYLE
:
I’ve been offered a big post in Boston, head of education in a reputable university there. They’ve given me three months to think it over. What are you going to do?

PUBLIC
:
Work in an hotel.

BOYLE
:
You have a job waiting for you?

PUBLIC
:
In Philadelphia.

BOYLE
:
You’ll do all right. You’re young and strong and of average intelligence.

PRIVATE
:
Good old Boyle. Get the dig in.

BOYLE
:
Yes, it was as ugly and as squalid as all the other to-dos – before the whole school-the priest and the teacher – dedicated moulders of the mind. You’re going to stay with friends?

PUBLIC
:
With Aunt Lizzy.

BOYLE
:
Of course.

PRIVATE
:
Go on. Try him.

PUBLIC
:
You knew her, didn’t you, Master?