(
He gets to his feet and goes back to his desk, muttering to himself, while
MAMAE’
s lips keep on moving for a moment, as if she were carrying on with the story. Then she falls asleep.
) The wicked woman … No story was ever complete without one. And a very good thing too. There should always be wicked women in romantic stories. Don’t be afraid, Belisario, take a tip from your old Mamaé. Besides, paper doesn’t discriminate, you can write anything you like on it. So fill the story with wicked women, they’re always so much more interesting. There were two of them, weren’t there, Mamaé? Sometimes she was called Carlota and she was a mischievous woman who lived in Tacna at the beginning of the century. And sometimes she was an Indian woman from Camaná, who had been thrashed by a gentleman for some mysterious reason during the twenties. (
Starts to write
.) They often got mixed up or overlapped, and then there was that mother-of-pearl fan which suddenly started to feature in the stories – the one some romantic poet had scribbled a few hasty lines on.
GRANDMOTHER: (
Coming in
) Elvira! Elvira! But what have you done? Have you gone quite mad? Your wedding dress! I don’t believe it! All that beautiful lace embroidery, and that veil – so fine and delicate it was almost like foam!
MAMAE: It took half a box of matches and I burnt the ends of my fingers. Eventually I thought of putting a little paraffin on it. It went up all right then.
GRANDMOTHER: (
Distressed
) But the wedding is tomorrow. We’ve got people coming all the way from Moquegua, Iquique, and Arica. You haven’t had a row with Joaquín? Really, Elvirita, on the day before your wedding. You mean the house has been festooned with lilies and roses all for nothing? And we’ve spent a month preparing sweets and pastries just for the fun of it? They’ve just brought the wedding cake.
MAMAE: Has it got three tiers? Like the one in that novel by Gustave Flaubert? With marzipan columns and almond Cupids? Oh, we simply must eat it even if I don’t get married. That Italian, Máspoli, is bound to have gone to so much trouble, he’s always so sweet to me.
GRANDMOTHER: Well, aren’t you going to tell me what happened? We’ve never had any secrets from each other. Why did you burn your wedding dress?
MAMAE: Because I don’t want to get married any more.
GRANDMOTHER: But why? You and Joaquín seemed so happy together – up until last night anyway. What’s he done to you?
MAMAE: Nothing. I’ve discovered I’m just not interested in marriage. I prefer to remain single.
GRANDMOTHER: How do you mean, you’re just not interested in marriage? You can’t fool me, Elvirita. Every girl wants to marry, it’s her one ambition in life and you’re no exception. We grew up dreaming about the day we’d have our own homes, guessing what our husbands would look like, choosing names for our children. Have you forgotten that already?
MAMAE: Yes, my dear. I’ve forgotten all about it.
GRANDMOTHER: You haven’t. I don’t believe you.
(GRANDMOTHER
and
MAMAE
carry on their conversation silently
. BELISARIO
has stopped writing for a moment. He looks pensive, absorbed in his own thoughts. When he speaks, it is as if he were watching them and listening to what they say.
)
BELISARIO: Their houses were both going to be as spotless and tidy as the British Consul’s. They were both going to have maids who would always be impeccably dressed in well-starched pinafores and bonnets; Grandma and Mamaé were going to send them off to catechism and make them say their rosaries along with the family. They would make sure that they always looked beautiful so that their husbands would remain in love with them and not be unfaithful to them. They would bring up their sons like gallant young men and their daughters like eligible young women. Grandmother was going to have four, Mamaé six, eight …
(
He starts to write again.
)
MAMAE: He doesn’t even know I’m not going to marry him. He was going to Isaiah’s, the tailor, today, to collect his dress uniform for the wedding. He’s going to get quite a surprise when the servants tell him he can’t ever set foot inside this house again.
GRANDMOTHER: (
Embarrassed
) Is it because you’re frightened, Elvirita? I mean, frightened of … of your wedding night?
(MAMAE
shakes her head
.)
Then why? Something dreadful must have happened for you to break off your engagement the day before your wedding …
MAMAE: I’ve already told you. I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to get married. Not to Joaquín or anyone else.
GRANDMOTHER: Is it God then? Is that it? Are you going into the convent?
MAMAE: No, I’ve no vocation to be a nun. I’m not getting married and I’m not going into the convent either. I’m going to carry on as I have done up to now. Single and unattached.
GRANDMOTHER: You’re hiding something important from me, Elvira. Remain single indeed! But it’s the most dreadful thing that can happen to a girl. Look at Aunt Hilaria. You say yourself that she makes your hair stand on end, she’s so lonely. No husband, no home of her own, no children, and half mad. Do you really want to end up like her, and have to face old age like a soul in torment?
MAMAE: Better to live alone than with the wrong person, Carmencita. The only thing I’m sorry about is the anxiety I’m going to cause Aunt Amelia and Uncle Menelao.
(GRANDMOTHER
nods.
)
Did they see the dress burning? They’re so sensitive and sweet. They haven’t even come to ask me why I set fire to it. And they went to such trouble so I could have a wedding to end all weddings. They’ve certainly earned their place in heaven, they’re so kind …
GRANDMOTHER: (
Giving her a kiss on the cheek
) You’ll never be left alone like Aunt Hilaria. Because when I get married, that is if any gentleman cares to have me, you’ll come and live with us.
MAMAE: You’re so good to me, my dear.
(
They are both overcome with emotion and kiss each other
. BELISARIO
gets to his feet and walks across the stage with a pile of papers in his hand. He seems restless
.)
BELISARIO: Well, it won’t be a love story, but it’s certainly romantic. That much is clear. As far back as you can remember, and as far back as my mother could remember, you were both as thick as thieves. But all those years of living in the same house, wasn’t there ever any friction, any jealousy between them? They shared their lives, but didn’t they ever feel envious of each other? (
He looks sardonically at them both
.) Well, I don’t suppose you actually shared Grandfather. But you certainly shared the children, didn’t you?
(
He walks round
GRANDMOTHER
and
MAMAE,
looking at them carefully.
That is to say, you produced them, Grandma, but it was you, Mamaé, who had all the anxiety and the sleepless
nights. You gave them their bottles and changed their nappies and watched over their cradles, and it was you who stayed at home so that Grandmother and Grandfather could go to the theatre or the cinema, or to parties, when they were still able to afford such luxuries.
(
He goes towards the desk, where he leaves his papers and pencils. He rolls up his trousers, like a child about to wade across a stream, and suddenly starts to skip and jump about, as if he were spinning a top or playing hopscotch.)
But there was someone else you were even more patient with, Mamaé – infinitely patient with in fact – and that was that budding little lawyer, over in Bolivia – yes, the future saviour of the family.
(
During
BELISARIO’
s speech
, AGUSTIN
and
CESAR
have come in from the street. They kiss
GRANDMOTHER
and their sister
, AMELIA,
and go up to greet
MAMAE,
who smiles politely and bows when she sees them coming. They embrace her. She lets them, but suddenly shouts out:
)
MAMAE: Long live Herod! Long live Herod! Ahhh!
(
As
MAMAE
shouts
, BELISARIO
carries on writing. He seems to be enjoying himself very much. In fact he is so delighted he can hardly sit still. He stops working from time to time to observe
MAMAE.
He imitates her gestures and expression – she raises his hand to his throat as if he were attempting to throttle someone
.)
GRANDMOTHER: Quiet, Elvira, stop shouting like a maniac. What’s this stupid habit you’ve got of shrieking ‘Long live Herod!’ whenever Agustín and César appear? (
To
AGUSTIN
and
CESAR) Dear oh dear, what with Mamaé who lives in a world of her own, and my husband who doesn’t remember anything from one moment to the next, I don’t know what’s to become of me, I really don’t. I’m just going to see if Pedro’s awake. He went to have a little rest.
(
She goes out
. AMELIA, AGUSTIN
and
CESAR
gather round
MAMAE.)
MAMAE: Of all the characters in history, he’s quite my favourite. He had every one of the little blighters killed. I’d do the
same – I’d do away with the lot of them. I wouldn’t leave a single one, not even as a specimen.
CESAR: (
To his brother
) And there were you wanting me to get the children out of the car so they could say hello to Mama and Papa.
MAMAE: Because I loathe them! And do you know why? Because of all those thousands and thousands of dirty nappies.
AGUSTIN: (
Stroking her hair
) You’ve spent your life looking after other people’s children, and now it turns out you detest the little mites.
MAMAE: Because of those millions of bibs they’re sick over, they’re always about to burst into tears – they’re always drooling, their noses need wiping, and their knees are always dirty and covered in scabs. And they won’t even let the grown-ups have their meals in peace, what with their bad table manners and naughty little pranks.
(MAMAE
talks to them calmly, smiling and bowing, but she gives the impression that she neither hears nor understands a word of what they say.
)
AMELIA: And to think that when Belisario had chickenpox, she was the one who threw me out of the room so that she could sleep beside him.
MAMAE: Because they shout and throw tantrums; everything gets broken, mucked up, or ruined.
BELISARIO: (
Interrupting his work
) You’d spend the day covering me with that ghastly black ointment. Every little spot, one by one. Then you’d take me by the hands and tell me stories to take my mind off it so I wouldn’t scratch. But even that didn’t stop me looking a sight, Mamaé!
MAMAE: They’re selfish little brutes, they don’t care about anyone. They’re like sultans, you’ve got to pander to all their stupid little fads. So, like Herod, every single one of them. Like so, and like so!
CESAR: What about that time in Arequipa, Mamaé, when I’d invite my schoolmates home? You used to make tea for all thirty of us, remember? So you can swear you hate children till you’re blue in the face, I just don’t believe it.
(AMELIA
signals to
AGUSTIN
and they both move aside a few steps.
BELISARIO
is sitting at his desk. He looks on intrigued
,
as
AMELIA
and
AGUSTIN
talk
.)
AMELIA: I want to have a word with you, Agustín.
AGUSTIN: Yes, Amelia.
AMELIA: I’ve been meaning to tell you, I … I can’t go on like this any more.
(
When
CESAR
hears her, he goes up to them.
MAMAE
falls asleep.
)
CESAR: What’s the matter, Amelia?
AMELIA: I’m quite exhausted. You’ll just have to take on a maid.
AGUSTIN: We’d have done that some time ago if it had been at all possible. I thought we agreed that César and I would help Belisario finish his course at university and you would look after the house.
AMELIA: Yes, I know. But I can’t go on like this, Agustín. It’s too much work for one person. And besides I’m slowly going out of my mind in this crazy household. What with Father and Mother and Mamaé – they’re all getting so old now. And Father doesn’t remember a single thing. I give him his lunch, he eats it, and five minutes later he asks for it all over again. And if I don’t do exactly as he wants, Mother bursts into tears.
CESAR: Don’t talk so loud, Amelia. Mamaé will hear you.
AMELIA: Let her hear me; she doesn’t understand. Her mind’s completely gone, César. (
Looks at
MAMAE.) Not to mention her body. God knows I’m patient, and I’m very fond of her. But there are limits. Can’t you see she’s like a child? Washing her knickers and her dirty nighties has become a nightmare. Then there’s the cooking, the cleaning, the ironing, the beds to be made and the dishes to be washed. I just can’t cope any more.
CESAR: (
To
AGUSTIN) Perhaps we really should consider taking on a maid, after all.