by Brian Friel
Angela Oh God!
The music stops.
The head’s beginning to reel!
Frank (sings) ‘In the good old summer time –’
George drowns Frank’s singing with a very formal ‘Amen’ cadence.
Terry Thank you, George.
General laughter. Terry holds his hands up.
And now, my children – please.
Trish Quiet, everybody!
Terry Your attention, please.
Frank Please!
Terry I bid you all welcome.
Frank Thank you, Terence.
Trish Where are we, Terry?
Frank Arcadia.
Terry Ballybeg pier – where the boat picks us up.
Trish County what?
Terry County Donegal.
Trish God. Bloody Indian territory.
Frank Where does the boatman live?
Terry Back there. At the end of the sand dunes.
Trish (to George) Ballybeg, George. In County Donegal.
George nods and smiles.
Terry Right. So – stage one complete. Welcome again.
Angela Sounds proprietorial, doesn’t he?
Terry I’m only the sherpa.
Trish Only what? (to Berna) What’s a sherpa?
Frank (up on catwalk) Next parish Boston, folks!
Terry (privately) Are you all right?
Angela A little too much wine.
Terry And you’ve changed your hair.
Angela For the big occasion! Of course!
Terry Lovely.
She touches his shoulder quickly, lightly, and moves away. They deposit their belongings at various places along the pier – that place becomes that person’s ‘territory’ for the rest of the night. Now they all move around slowly, silently, assessing the pier itself and its furnishings and the surrounding sea and countryside. Terry watches them. He is anxious to have their approval.
Well?
Frank (in approval) Well–well–well–well.
Terry So far so good?
Frank So far wonderful, Terry.
Terry (to all) Isn’t it?
Frank Wonderful. (He comes down from the catwalk.)
Terry Some place, George?
George Yes. Yes.
Trish Sorry, Terry – where is this again?
Frank (to Terry) Permanently lost, that sister of yours.
Terry Ballybeg pier.
Trish In County –?
Frank Wasting your time, Terry.
Terry Donegal. This is where the boat picks us up.
Trish You’ve told me that three times, (to George) The boat picks us up here.
George nods and smiles. Pause. Again they gaze around, touching the furnishings, sitting on the bollards. As they move around George plays ‘Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring’. Angela busies herself with her belongings, deliberately ignoring the surroundings.
A long time since this has been used.
Terry Not for fifty years.
Frank More. I’d say.
Terry Well?
Frank Listen! Not a sound.
Terry Trish?
Trish Very … remote, isn’t it?
Terry But worth four hours in that minibus?
Trish (not quite certain) Oh yes …
Frank The bus was fine. It’s Charlie’s terrible jokes I can’t take. If he were my driver, Terry, I’d muzzle him.
Terry (to Angela) Some place, isn’t it?
Trish Wonderful, Terry. Isn’t it, Berna?
Berna Yes.
Frank These (rings) were made to last.
Terry And that stone – all cut by hand. (He again attempts to include Angela.) What do you call that mossy stuff – lichen?
Trish And that view! Look!
Frank What were these stones for?
Terry Weights for lobster pots.
Frank Amazing. Another world altogether.
Trish Heavenly.
Terry Yes.
Trish You’d think you could see beyond the horizon. It really is wonderful. Oh, my goodness … (to George) Ballybeg pier. In County Donegal.
George I know, Trish!
Terry (to Angela) What do you think of it?
Angela ‘Wonderful’ … I know another happy song, George.
She sings the first line of the refrain of ‘I Don’t Know Why I’m Happy’. George picks it up immediately.
Yes! He’s a genius!
She sings the second line of the refrain.
Terry Your wonderful wife – off again.
Frank (spreading his hands) Your wonderful sister-in-law.
Terry sings the third and fourth line with Angela.
Terry Once more!
And accompanied by George and with Trish clapping in time they sing the whole refrain again.
Remember Father singing that every Christmas?
Trish Don’t remember that. Did he?
Angela Your George is a genius, Trish.
Trish I know.
Angela Give me a kiss, George. (She kisses him.) You should be wearing a toga and playing a lyre and gorging yourself with black grapes. (She picks up a wreath of dried seaweed and places it on his head.) There! Dionysus!
Trish I have a suggestion, Terry: let’s have the party here.
Frank (holding up a fragment of the lifebelt) Anybody drowning?
Terry We have a boat coming for us, Trish.
Trish We don’t have to take it, do we?
Terry Yes, we do.
Trish Why?
Frank Because it’s all arranged.
Trish Berna, what do you say?
Berna I don’t care. Here’s fine. Here’s wonderful.
Trish Angela?
Angela I know another happy song!
Frank (icily) Angela, we’re all trying to –
Terry (sings) ‘Here we are again –’
Angela That’s it!
George picks up the melody.
(sings) ‘Happy as can be –’
Trish I know that!
Trish, Terry and Angela (sing together) ‘All good pals and jolly good company.’
Angela now continues alone. She hoists up her skirts and does a parodic dance up and down the pier as she sings.
Terry and Trish clap hands. Angela’s performance is full and exuberant but at the same time there is a hint of underlying panic.
Angela (singing and dancing)
‘A kiss for Bernadette,
My darling sister, B.
I think I need a very strong cup of tea.’
Frank (icily) Not at all! You’re wonderful!
Angela
‘I may be slightly drunk
As teachers oughtn’t be.
But Frank, my husband,
Tra-la-la-la-la-la-lee –’
Oh God … (She flops on to a bollard.)
Frank Thank you very much. Now – what about this boat, Terry?
Trish I vote we stay here. Berna?
Frank Terry’s day, Trish.
Trish Aren’t we all happy enough here?
Angela (sings to same air) ‘Today is Terry’s day –’
Frank (to Terry) What do you say?
Terry You think this is great? Believe me, my children, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.
Angela One final happy song –
Frank For Christ’s sake!
Angela And despite my husband’s encouragement the last happy song I’ll sing.
Trish Yes, Angela, sing! Let’s have a song!
Angela And this last happy song is for our host, Terry Martin –
Trish My wonderful brother.
Frank Mister Terence Martin!
Terry Terence Mary Martin.
Angela Concert promoter.
Terry She means showman.
Angela Turf accountant.
Frank Yeah!
Terry She means bookie.
Angela Gambler.
Terry She means eejit.
Angela And a man of infinite generosity
and kindness.
Overlapping voices:
George Yes!
Frank Hear, hear!
Angela Yeah–yeah–yeah!
Trish Perfectly true!
Frank Yes!
Terry (embarrassed) That sho’ is me, folks.
Angela (raising a bottle) To Terence Mary.
Trish To Terry and Berna.
Angela Friend, brother-in-law, most generous of –
George plays another ‘Amen’ chord that drowns out the rest of her speech.
Behave yourself, you!
Terry Wait–wait–wait–wait–wait. Give me a hand here, Frank.
Terry throws open a hamper and produces bottles.
Frank We’re not having the party here, are we?
Angela I want to sing another cheap song.
Terry There are more cups in that bag.
Angela You sing, Berna!
Berna Later, maybe.
Trish It’s not champagne, is it?
Terry That’s what the man sold me.
Angela George! A cheap song!
George We’ll drink first.
Trish Oh God, Terry!
Frank Anybody need a cup?
Trish A bit mad this, isn’t it? What time of day is it? (to Berna) Maybe we’re all mad, are we?
Berna Maybe.
Frank May concerts and gambling and bookmaking always prosper.
Trish Oh, God, Terry, something wrong with this, isn’t there?
Terry Why?
Angela (sings) ‘Oh, Terry Martin, what can I do?’
Terry (sings) ‘I took a bus to Ballybeg and I found myself with you.’ Berna? (Drink.)
Berna Up to the top, please.
Terry (softly) You OK?
Berna (loudly) That’s not the top.
Terry Shouldn’t you go easy on –?
Berna That’s sufficient, thank you.
Angela (to Frank) Both up to the brim, please. (Cups.)
Frank You’ll get your share.
Angela Jesus, how I love a prodigal man! To cheap songs!
Terry George? (Drink.)
George Please.
Trish Just a little, Terry.
But George tilts the bottle and fills his cup to overflowing.
George Lovely. Thanks.
Terry Good idea this, isn’t it?
Trish We’re blessed in the weather. He’s (George) looking well, isn’t he?
Terry Great. To the old band, George.
George The Dude Ranchers.
Terry The Dude Ranchers. The best band ever to tour Ireland. How many years were we on the road?
Trish Twenty-one.
Terry Were we?
George A lifetime.
Trish A lifetime, he says.
George And we’ll do it again.
Trish You were told not to speak.
Terry Yes, we’ll do it again! And this time we’ll tour the world!
George smiles, spreads his hands and moves away.
Berna I’ll have some more champagne, Frank.
Frank On the way.
Angela (to Berna) Shouldn’t you go easy on that, love?
Frank Don’t spare it. Loads more in that hamper.
Berna Thank you, Frank.
Trish and Terry are alone.
Terry How is he? (George)
Trish He plays all day long. As if he were afraid to stop.
Terry He’s looking great.
Trish You’ve got to stop sending that huge cheque every week, Terry.
Terry Nothing. It’s –
Trish We can manage fine.
Terry It’s only –
Trish We don’t need it. Honestly.
Terry How was the check-up last week?
Trish Three months at most.
Terry Oh Christ. Does he know?
Trish He’s very brave about it.
Terry Is there anything –?
Trish (aloud) Quiet, please! The brother is going to make a speech!
Terry The brother is –!
Frank Speech! Silence! Speech!
Terry The brother is going to do nothing –
Frank Glasses all full?
Overlapping talk:
Any more champagne?
Trish Listen to the brother.
Angela Good man, Terry.
Trish Go ahead.
Frank Please! Quiet!
Trish And make it short, Terry.
Angela Terence Mary Martin!
Frank But first – first – may I say something? To Terry, for whom we all have the utmost respect and affection; and to his lovely Berna; both of whom have made all our lives –
Angela (quickly, lightly) Happy birthday.
Frank A very happy –
And the rest is drowned by George playing ‘Happy Birthday to You’. And everybody joins in the singing. Terry covers his face in exaggerated but genuine embarrassment and pretends to hide behind the lifebelt stand while they sing to him. When the chorus ends he sings the first two lines of the refrain of ‘I’m Twenty-one Today’. General laughter.
Trish All right, Terry. One very short speech.
Terry No–no–no–no–no. No speeches. May I have your attention, please? Berna? George?
Frank Attention, please.
Terry OK?
They all fall silent. Terry points out to sea. They line up around him – Frank, Trish, Berna, George. Angela moves off and stands alone.
Straight out there. That island. That’s where we’re going.
Frank Yes …
Trish I’m lost – where? – is it –?
Frank Wonderful …
Terry (to Trish) Directly in front of you.
Frank Further left, Trish.
Terry (to Berna) Straight out there.
Berna I see it, Terry.
Frank (to Trish) Got it?
Trish Think so …
Terry George?
George See it.
Terry See it, Angela?
She does not answer.
Frank That’s no distance out, Terry.
Terry I suppose not.
Trish It’s shaped like a ukulele, is it?
Frank That’s a perfect circle for God’s sake.
Terry So. There we are. See it, Angela? Our destination.
Angela (softly, toasting) Our ‘destination’.
Trish I do see it. Yes.
Terry Wonderful, isn’t it?
Berna It’s not circular, Frank. That’s a rectangle.
Trish God, that’s miles away, Terry.
Terry Is it?
Trish Miles. And that’s in County Sligo too, is it?
Frank Jesus.
Terry Donegal.
Trish Ah.
Terry Wonderful, isn’t it?
Angela (softly, toasting) A destination of wonder.
Frank (coldly) Aren’t you going to join us, Angela?
Trish (to George) Not Sligo, George. Still Donegal.
Angela stands beside the lifebelt stand, leans against it and sings in Marlene Dietrich style the first line of ‘Falling in Love Again’.
Frank Angela, please –
George accompanies her now. She sings the next two lines and breaks off suddenly. George finishes the verse and then stops. Silence again as they all – except Angela – gaze out at the island, each with his/her thoughts. Angela takes off her sun hat and hangs it on the arm of the lifebelt stand.
Trish You never said it was a big island, Terry.
Terry It’s not big, is it?
Trish That’s a huge island.
Terry Is it?
Frank Hard to know what size it is – it keeps shimmering.
Now for the first time Angela joins them and looks out to sea.
Angela Has it a name, our destination?
Terry Oileán Draíochta. What does that mean, all you educated people?
Trish That rules me out. Where’s our barrister? (Berna)
Berna Island of Otherness; Island of Mystery.
Berna Not that kind of mystery. The wonderful – the sacred – the mysterious – that kind of mystery.
Frank Good girl, Berna!
Trish All the same it’s beautiful, (to George) Isn’t it?
George Yes.
Trish Dammit, I’ve lost it again, (to Terry) You’re sure it’s not a mirage?
Frank catches her head and turns it.
Frank You’re looking away beyond it.
Trish Am I?
Terry There is a legend that it was once a spectral, floating island that appeared out of the fog every seven years and that fishermen who sighted it saw a beautiful country of hills and valleys, with sheep browsing on the slopes, and cattle in green pastures, and clothes drying on the hedges.
And they say they saw leaves of apple and oak, and heard a bell and the song of coloured birds. Then, as they watched it, the fog devoured it and nothing was seen but the foam swirling on the billow and the tumbling of the dolphins.
Trish Will we see dolphins? God, I love dolphins.
Angela You know that by heart.
Terry (embarrassed) Do I?
Berna When did it stop being spectral?
Terry On one of its seven-year appearances fishermen landed on it and lit a fire.
Frank What was wrong with that?
Terry Fire dispels the enchantment – according to the legend, (to Angela) You’re right. From a pamphlet about the place my father had.
Frank Maybe it is a bit like a ukulele.
Terry Nearly forgot – shoes off, everybody!
Frank What?
Terry We’re supposed to be barefoot.
Frank You’re joking, Terry!
Trish Why barefoot?
Terry Don’t ask me. That’s the custom. That’s what people used to do long ago.
They slip out of their shoes. And again they gaze out to sea.
Berna There are bushes on it.
Frank Come on, Berna! And clothes drying on the hedges?
Berna Whins, I think. Yes; they’re whins. And a small hill away to the left.
Trish God, you’ve all powerful eyes.
Frank Looks more like clouds to me.
Berna A low hill. At the end of that side.
Angela (to Terry) You’re our expert. Is there a hill there?
Terry Expert! I was there just once with my father. I was only seven at the time.
Trish I never heard that story.
Terry We fasted from the night before, I remember. And for the night you were on the island you were given only bread and water. (to George) Like some of our digs when we were on the road!
George nods and smiles. Frank now takes a series of photographs – of the others, of the island, of the furnishings of the pier.
Trish And what did you do out there?