Brian Friel Plays 1 (8 page)

BOYLE
:
Yes, I knew all the Gallagher girls: Lizzy, Una, Rose, Agnes …

PRIVATE
:
And Maire, my mother, did you love her?

BOYLE
:
A long, long time ago … in the past … He comes in to see your father every night, doesn’t he?

PUBLIC
:
The Canon? Oh, it’s usually much later than this –

BOYLE
:
I think so much about him that – ha – I feel a peculiar attachment for him. Funny, isn’t it? Do you remember the Christmas you sent me the packet of cigarettes? And the day you brought me a pot of jam to the digs? It was you, wasn’t it?

PRIVATE
:
Poor Boyle –

BOYLE
:
All children are born with generosity. Three months they gave me to make up my mind.

PUBLIC
:
I remember very well –

BOYLE
:
By the way – (
Producing
a
small
book
)
a little something to remind you of your old teacher – my poems –

PUBLIC
:
Thank you very much.

BOYLE
:
I had them printed privately last month. Some of them are a bit mawkish but you’ll not notice any distinction.

PUBLIC
:
I’m very grateful, Master.

BOYLE
:
I’m not going to give you advice, Gar. Is that clock right? Not that you would heed it even if I did; you were always obstinate –

PRIVATE
:
Tch, tch.

BOYLE
:
But I would suggest that you strike out on your own as soon as you find your feet out there. Don’t keep looking back over your shoulder. Be one hundred per cent American.

PUBLIC
:
I’ll do that.

BOYLE
:
There’s an inscription on the fly-leaf. By the way, Gar, you couldn’t lend me
IOS
until – ha – I was going to say until next week but you’ll be gone by then.

PUBLIC
:
Surely, surely.

BOYLE
:
I seem to have come out without my wallet …

PRIVATE
:
Give him the quid.

(
PUBLIC
gives
over
a
note.
BOYLE
does
not
look
at
it.
)

BOYLE
:
Fine, I’ll move on now. Yes, I knew all the Gallagher girls from Bailtefree, long, long ago. Maire and Una and Rose and Lizzy and Agnes and Maire, your mother …

PRIVATE
:
You might have been my father.

BOYLE
:
Oh, another thing I meant to ask you: should you come across any newspapers or magazines over there that might be interested in an occasional poem, perhaps you would send me some addresses –

PUBLIC
:
I’ll keep an eye out.

BOYLE
:
Not that I write as much as I should. You know how you get caught up in things. But you have your packing to do, and I’m talking too much as usual.

(
He
holds
out
his
hand
and
they
shake
hands.
He
does
not
release
PUBLIC
’
s
hand.
)

Good luck, Gareth.

PUBLIC
:
Thanks, Master.

BOYLE
:
Forget Ballybeg and Ireland,

PUBLIC
:
It’s easier said.

BOYLE
:
Perhaps you’ll write me.

PUBLIC
:
I will indeed.

BOYLE
:
Yes, the first year. Maybe the second. I’ll – I’ll miss you, Gar.

PRIVATE
:
For God’s sake get a grip on yourself.

PUBLIC
:
Thanks for the book and for –

(
BOYLE
embraces
PUBLIC
briefly
.)

PRIVATE
:
Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

(
BOYLE
breaks
away
and
goes
quickly
off
through
the
scullery.
He
bumps
into
MADGE
who
is
entering.
)

MADGE
:
Lord, the speed of him! His tongue out for a drink!

PRIVATE
:
Quick! Into your room!

MADGE
:
God knows I don’t blame the Canon for wanting rid of that – 

(
PUBLIC
rushes
to
the
bedroom,
PRIVATE
follows.
)

Well! The manners about this place!

(
She
gathers
up
the
tea
things.
PUBLIC
stands
inside
the
bedroom
door,
his
hands
up
to
his
face,
PRIVATE
stands
at
his
elbow,
speaking
urgently
into
his
ear
.)

PRIVATE
:
Remember – you’re going! At 7.15. You’re still going! He’s nothing but a drunken aul schoolmaster – a conceited, arrogant wash-out!

PUBLIC
:
O God, the Creator and Redeemer of all the faithful –

PRIVATE
:
Get a grip on yourself! Don’t be a damned sentimental fool! (
Sings
) ‘Philadelphia, here I come–’

PUBLIC
:
Maire and Una and Rose and Agnes and Lizzy and Maire –

PRIVATE
:
Yessir, you’re going to cut a bit of a dash in them thar States! Great big sexy dames and night clubs and high living and films and dances and –

PUBLIC
:
Kathy, my own darling Kathy –

PRIVATE
:
(
Sings
) ‘Where bowers of flowers bloom in the spring’

PUBLIC
:
I don’t – I can’t –

PRIVATE
:
(
Sings
) ‘Each morning at dawning, everything is bright and gay/A sun-kissed miss says Don’t be late–’ Sing up, man!

PUBLIC
:
I – I – I –

PRIVATE
:
(
Sings
) ‘That’s why I can hardly wait.’

PUBLIC
:
(
Sings
limply
) ‘Philadelphia, here I come.’

PRIVATE
:
That’s it, laddybuck!

TOGETHER
:
‘Philadelphia, here I come.’

Curtain

PUBLIC
:
(
Sings
)

(
When
the
singing
stops
there
is
a
moment
of
silence.
Then,
suddenly,
PRIVATE
springs
to
his
feet.
)

PRIVATE
:
What the bloody hell are you at, O’Donnell? Snap out of it, man! Get up and keep active! The devil makes work for idle hands! It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of France, then the Dauphiness, at Versailles.

(
PUBLIC
goes
off
the
bed
and
begins
taking
clothes
from
the
chest
of
drawers
and
putting
them
into
his
case
.)

PRIVATE
:
(Lilting
to
a
mad
air
of
his
own
making
)

Ta-ra-del-oo-del-ah-dol-de-dol-de-dol-del-ah – (
Continuing
as
rapidly
as
he
can
speak
) – Tell me this and tell me no more: Why does a hen cross the road?

PUBLIC
:
Why?

PRIVATE
:
To get to the other side. Ha-ha! Why does a hen lay an egg?

PUBLIC
:
Why?

PRIVATE
:
Because it can’t lay a brick. Yo-ho. Why does a sailor wear a round hat?

PUBLIC
:
Why?

PRIVATE
:
To cover his head. Hee-hee-hee. Nought out of three; very bad for a man of average intelligence. That’s the style. Keep working; keep the mind active and well stretched by knowing the best that is thought and written in the world, and you wouldn’t call Daddy Senator your father-in-law,

(
Sings.
)

(
Confidentially
) D’you know what I think, laddie, I mean, just looking at you there.

PUBLIC
:
What?

PRIVATE
:
You’d make a hell of a fine President of the United States.

(
PUBLIC
straightens
up
and
for
a
second
surveys
the
room
with
the
keen
eye
of
a
politician.
Relaxes
again
.)

PUBLIC
:
Agh!

PRIVATE
:
But you would!

PUBLIC
:
You need to be born an American citizen.

PRIVATE
:
True for you. What about Chairman of General Motors?

(
PUBLIC
shrugs
indifferently
.)

Boss of the Teamsters’ Union?

(
PUBLIC
shrugs
his
indifference
.)

PRIVATE
:
Hollywood – what about Hollywood?

PUBLIC
:
Not what it was.

PRIVATE
:
Dammit but you’re hard to please too. Still, there must be something great in store for you. (
Cracks
his
fingers
at
his
brainwave
.) The US Senate! Senator Gareth O’Donnell, Chairman of the Foreign Aid Committee! (
He
interviews
PUBLIC
who
continues
packing
his
clothes
busily
.)

Is there something you would like to say, Senator, before you publish the findings of your committee?

PUBLIC
:
Nothing to say.

PRIVATE
:
Just a few words.

PUBLIC
:
No comment.

PRIVATE
:
Isn’t it a fact that suspicion has fallen on Senator Doogan?

PUBLIC
:
Nothing further to add.

PRIVATE
:
Did your investigators not discover that Senator Doogan is the grandfather of fourteen unborn illegitimate children? That he sold his daughter to the king of the fairies for a crock of gold? That a Chinese spy known to the FBI as Screwballs –

PUBLIC
:
Screwballs?

PRIVATE
:
Screwballs.

PUBLIC
:
Describe him.

PRIVATE
:
Tall, blond, athletic-looking –

PUBLI
:
Military moustache?

PRIVATE
:
– very handsome; uses a diamond-studded cigarette-holder.

PUBLIC
:
Usually accompanied by a dark seductive woman in a low-cut evening gown?

PRIVATE
:
– wears a monocle, fluent command of languages –

PUBLIC
:
But seldom speaks? A man of few words?

PRIVATE
:
– drives a cream convertible, villas in Istanbul, Cairo and Budapest –

PUBLIC
:
(
Declaims
) Merchant Prince, licensed to deal in tobacco –

PRIVATE
:
An’ sowl! That’s me man! To a T! The point is – what’ll we do with him?

PUBLIC
:
Sell him to a harem?

PRIVATE
:
Hide his cascara sagrada?

(
MADGE
comes
into
the
kitchen
to
lift
the
tablecloth
.)

PUBLIC
:
(
Serious
) Shhh!

PRIVATE
:
The boys? Is it the boys? To say good-bye?

PUBLIC
:
Shhhh!

PRIVATE
:
It’s Madge – aul fluke-feet Madge.

(
They
both
stand
listening
to
the
sound
of
MADGE
flapping
across
the
kitchen
and
out
to
the
scullery.
)

PUBLIC
:
(
Calls
softly
) Madge.

(
PRIVATE
drops
into
the
armchair
.
PUBLIC
stands
listening
until
the
sound
has
died
away
.)

PRIVATE
:
(
Wearily
) Off again! You know what you’re doing, don’t you, laddybuck? Collecting memories and images and impressions that are going to make you bloody miserable; and in a way that’s what you want, isn’t it?

PUBLIC
:
Bugger!

(
PRIVATE
springs
to
his
feet
again.
With
forced
animation
.)

PRIVATE
:
Bugger’s right! Bugger’s absolutely correct! Back to the job! Keep occupied. Be methodical.

Will all passengers holding immigration visas please come this way.

(
PUBLIC
produces
documents
from
a
drawer.
He
checks
them
.)

PRIVATE
:
Passport?

PUBLIC
:
Passport.

PRIVATE
:
Visa?

PUBLIC
:
Visa.

PRIVATE
:
Vaccination cert.?

PUBLIC
:
Vaccination cert.

PRIVATE
:
Currency?

PUBLIC
:
Eighty dollars.

PRIVATE
:
Sponsorship papers?

PUBLIC
:
Signed by Mr Conal Sweeney.

PRIVATE
:
Uncle Con and Aunt Lizzy. Who made the whole thing possible. Read her letter again – strictly for belly-laughs.

PUBLIC
:
(
Reads
) Dear Nephew Gar, Just a line to let you know that your Uncle Con and me have finalized all the plans –

PUBLIC
:
– and we will meet you at the airport and welcome you and bring you to our apartment which you will see is located in a pretty nice locality and you will have the spare room which has TV and air-conditioning and window meshes and your own bathroom with a shower –

PRIVATE
:
Adjacent to RC church. No children. Other help kept.

PUBLIC
:
You will begin at the Emperor Hotel on Monday 23rd which is only about twenty minutes away.

PRIVATE
:
Monsieur, madam.

PUBLIC
:
Con says it is a fine place for to work in and the owner is Mr Patrick Palinakis who is half-Irish –

PRIVATE
:
Patrick.

PUBLIC
:
– and half-Greek.

PRIVATE
:
Palinakis.

PUBLIC
:
His grandfather came from County Mayo.

PRIVATE
:
By the hokey! The Greek from Belmullet!

PUBLIC
:
We know you will like it here and work hard.

PRIVATE
:
(
Rapidly
) Monsieur-madam-monsieur-
madam-monsieur
-madam –

PUBLIC
:
We remember our short trip to Ireland last September with happy thoughts and look forward to seeing you again. Sorry we missed your father that day. We had Ben Burton in to dinner last evening. He sends his regards.

PRIVATE
:
Right sort. Ben.

PUBLIC
:
Until we see you at the airport, all love, Elise.

PRIVATE
:
‘Elise! Dammit, Lizzy Gallagher, but you came up in the world.

PUBLIC
:
PS About paying back the passage money which you mentioned in your last letter – desist! – no one’s crying about it.

PRIVATE
:
Aye, Ben Burton was a right skin.

PUBLIC
:
(
Remembering
) September 8th.

PRIVATE
:
By God Lizzy was in right talking form that day –

PUBLIC
: ‘You are invited to attend the wedding of Miss Kathleen Doogan of Gortmore House –’

PRIVATE
:
(
Snaps
) Shut up, O’Donnell! You’ve got to quit this moody drivelling! (
Coaxing
) They arrived in the afternoon; remember? A beautiful quiet harvest day, the sun shining, not a breath of wind; and you were on your best behaviour. And Madge – remember? Madge was as huffy as hell with the carry-on of them, and you couldn’t take your eyes off Aunt Lizzy, your mother’s sister – so this was your mother’s sister – remember?

(Three people have moved into the kitchen
:
CON SWEENEY,
LIZZY
SWEENEY
,
and
BEN BURTON
.
All
three
are
in
the
fifty-five
to
sixty
region.
BURTON
is
American,
the
SWEENEYS
Irish-American.
 
CON SWEENEY
sits
at
the
kitchen
table
with
BEN BURTON
.
LIZZY
moves
around
in
the
centre
of
the
kitchen.
PUBLIC
stands
at
the
door
of
his
bedroom.
PRIVATE
hovers
around
close
to
PUBLIC
.
The
three
guests
have
glasses
in
their
hands.
None
of
them
is
drunk,
but
LIZZY
is
more
than
usually
garrulous.
She
is
a
small
energetic
woman,
heavily
made-up
,
impulsive.
CON
,
her
husband,
is
a
quiet,
patient
man.
BURTON
,
their
friend,
sits
smiling
at
his
glass
most
of
the
time.
As
she
talks
LIZZY
moves
from
one
to
the
other,
and
she
has
the
habit
of
putting
her
arm
around,
or
catching
the
elbow
of
,
the
person
she
is
addressing.
This
constant
physical
touching
is
new
and
disquieting
to
PUBLIC
.
A
long
laugh
from
LIZZY
:)