by Brian Friel
KATE: Shhhh.
PUBLIC: But I can’t. We’ll have to get married sooner – next month – next week–
PRIVATE: Steady, steady….
PUBLIC: Kate … my sweet Katie … my darling Kathy …
(They kiss. Suddenly KATE breaks off. Her voice is urgent.)
KATE: We’ll go now, rightaway, and tell them.
PUBLIC: Who?
KATE: Mammy and Daddy. They’re at home tonight.
(She catches his arm and pulls him towards the left.)
Come on. Quickly. Now, Gar, now.
PUBLIC: (Adjusting his tie) God, Kathy, I’m in no – look at the shoes – the trousers–
KATE: What matter. It must be now, Gar, now!
PUBLIC: What – what – what’ll I say?
KATE: That you want their permission to marry me next week.
PUBLIC: God, they’ll wipe the bloody floor with me!
KATE: Gar!
(She kisses him passionately, quickly, then breaks off and goes.)
(Stage right, now lit. A room in Doogan’s house.)
PUBLIC: God, my legs are trembling! Kathy …
KATE: Anybody at home? Mammy! Daddy!
(PUBLIC hesitates before entering DOOGAN’s house. PRIVATE is at his elbow, prompting him desperately.)
PRIVATE: Mr Doogan – Senator Doogan – I want to ask your permission … O my God! …
KATE: Yo-ho!
PRIVATE: Mrs Doogan, Kate and I have to get married rightaway – Cripes, no! –
KATE: Where is everybody! Yo-ho-yo-ho!
PRIVATE: If the boys could see you now!
(KATE comes back to him, gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.)
KATE: Don’t look so miserable. Here … (Fixes his tie).
PUBLIC: Kathy, maybe we should wait until – until – until next Sunday–
KATE: (Earnestly) Remember, it’s up to you, entirely up to you.
DOOGAN: (Off) That you, Kate?
KATE: (Rapidly) You have £20 a week and £5,000 in the bank and your father’s about to retire. (Turning and smiling at DOOGAN who has now entered.) Just Gar and I, Daddy. (DOOGAN, Lawyer, Senator, middle forties.)
DOOGAN: Hello, Gareth. You’re a stranger.
PRIVATE: Speak, you dummy you!
KATE: (Filling in) Where’s Mammy?
DOOGAN: She’s watching TV. (To GAR.) And how are things with you, Gareth?
PUBLIC: Mr Doogan, I want–
PRIVATE: Go on.
PUBLIC: I won’t be staying long.
DOOGAN: (To KATE) Francis arrived when you were out. Took a few days off and decided to come north.
PRIVATE: Cripes!
KATE: He – he’s – he’s here – now?
DOOGAN: Inside with your mother. Ask them to join us, will you?
(KATE gives PUBLIC a last significant look.)
KATE: You talk to Daddy, Gar.
PRIVATE: God, I will, I will.
(KATE goes off right.)
DOOGAN: You’ve met Francis King, haven’t you, Gareth?
PUBLIC: Yes – yes –
PRIVATE: King of the bloody fairies!
DOOGAN: We don’t want to raise Kate’s hopes unduly, but strictly between ourselves there’s a good chance that he’ll get the new dispensary job here.
PUBLIC: Kate’s hopes?
DOOGAN: Didn’t she tell you? No, I can see she didn’t. Of course there’s nothing official yet; not even what you might call an understanding. But if this post does fall into his lap, well, her mother and I … let’s say we’re living in hope. A fine boy, Francis; and we’ve known the Kings, oh, since away back. As a matter of fact his father and I were class-fellows at school …
(DOOGAN goes an and on. We catch an occasional word.
Meantime PRIVATE has moved up to PUBLIC’s elbow.)
PRIVATE: Cripes, man!
DOOGAN: … and then later at university when he did medicine and I did law, we knocked about quite a bit …
PRIVATE: O God, the aul bitch! Cripes, you look a right fool standing there – the father of fourteen children! Get out, you eejit you! Get out! Get out quick before the others come in and die laughing at you! And all the time she must have known – the aul bitch! And you promised to give her breakfast in bed every morning! And you told her about the egg money!
DOOGAN: … your father, Gareth?
PRIVATE: He’s talking to you, thick-skull.
PUBLIC: What – what – what’s that?
DOOGAN: Your father – how is he?
PUBLIC: Oh he – he – he’s grand, thanks.
PRIVATE: Get out! Get out!
PUBLIC: Look, Mr Doogan, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’d better move on –
DOOGAN: Aren’t you waiting for supper? The others will be along in a moment for–
PUBLIC: No, I must run. I’ve got to make up half-a-hundredweight of sugar bags.
PRIVATE: Brilliant!
PUBLIC: Say good-bye to –
DOOGAN: Certainly – certainly. Oh, Gareth –
(PUBLIC pauses.)
(Awkwardly, with sincerity) Kate is our only child, Gareth, and her happiness is all that is important to us –
PRIVATE: (Sings) ‘Give the woman in the bed more porter –’
DOOGAN: What I’m trying to say is that any decision she makes will be her own –
PRIVATE: ‘– Give the man beside her water, Give the woman in the bed more porter, –’
DOOGAN: Just in case you should think that her mother or I were … in case you might have the idea …
PUBLIC: (Rapidly) Good night, Mr Doogan.
(PUBLIC rushes off.)
DOOGAN: Good-bye … Gareth.
(DOOGAN stands lighting his pipe.)
KATE: (Enters down right of DOOGAN and sees that GAR is no longer there) Where’s Gar?
DOOGAN: He didn’t seem anxious to stay.
KATE: But didn’t he – did he –?
DOOGAN: No, he didn’t.
(He crosses KATE to exit down right as light fades to black out.) (Black out Doogan’s room. PUBLIC and PRIVATE move back to the bedroom where PUBLIC is putting away the photograph and begins washing.)
PRIVATE: (Wearily) Mrs Doctor Francis King. September 8th. In harvest sunshine. Red carpet and white lilies and Sean Horgan singing ‘Bless This House’ – and him whipped off to Sligo jail two days later for stealing turf. Honeymoon in Mallorca and you couldn’t have afforded to take her to Malahide. By God, Gar, aul sod, it was a sore hoke on the aul prestige, eh? Between ourselves, aul son, in the privacy of the bedroom, between you and me and the wall, as the fella says, has it left a deep scar on the aul skitter of a soul, eh? What I mean to say like, you took it sort of bad, between you and me and the wall, as the fella says–
PUBLIC: (Sings) ‘Philadelphia, here I come, right back–’
PRIVATE: But then there’s more fish in the sea, as the fella says, and they’re all the same when they’re upside down; and between you and me and the wall, the first thing you would have had to do would have been to give the boot to Daddy Senator. And I’m thinking, Gar, aul rooster, that wouldn’t have made you his pet son-in-law, Mister Fair-play Lawyer Senator Doogan – ‘her happiness is all that is important to us’! You know, of course, that he carries one of those wee black cards in the inside pocket of his jacket, privately printed for him: ‘I am a Catholic. In case of accident send for a bishop.’ And you know, too, that in his spare time he travels for maternity corsets; and that he’s a double spy for the Knights and the Masons; and that he takes pornographic photographs of Mrs D. and sends them anonymously to reverend mothers. And when you think of a bugger like that, you want to get down on your knees and thank God for aul Screwballs. (Imitating his father’s slow speech.) So you’re going to America in the morning, son? (PUBLIC carries on with his washing and dressing and at the same time does this dialogue.)
PUBLIC: Yes, Father.
PRIVATE: Nothing like it to broaden the mind. Man, how I’d love to travel. But
there’s some it doesn’t agree with – like me, there.
PUBLIC: In what way, Father?
PRIVATE: The bowels, son. Let me move an inch from the house here – and they stall.
PUBLIC: No!
PRIVATE: Like the time I went to Lough Derg, away back in ’35. Not a budge. The bare feet were nothing to the agonies I went through. I was bound up for two full weeks afterwards.
PUBLIC: It taught you a lesson.
PRIVATE: Didn’t it just? Now I wouldn’t even think of travelling.
PUBLIC: Anchored by the ass.
PRIVATE: Bound by the bowels.
PUBLIC: Tethered by the toilet. Tragic.
(PUBLIC has now finished dressing. He surveys himself in the mirror.)
PRIVATE: Not bad. Not bad at all. And well preserved for a father of fourteen children.
PUBLIC: (In absurd Hollywood style) Hi, gorgeous! You live in my block?
PRIVATE: (Matching the accent) Yeah, big handsome boy. Sure do.
PUBLIC: Mind if I walk you past the incinerator, to the elevator?
PRIVATE: You’re welcome, slick operator.
(PUBLIC is facing the door of his bedroom. MADGE enters the kitchen from the scullery.)
PUBLIC: What’ya say, li’l chick, you and me – you know – I’ll spell it out for ya ifya like.
(Winks, and clicks his tongue.)
PRIVATE: You say the cutest things, big handsome boy!
PUBLIC: A malted milk at the corner drug-store?
PRIVATE: Wow!
PUBLIC: A movie at the downtown drive-in? PRIVATE: Wow-wow!
PUBLIC: Two hamburgers, two cokes, two slices of blueberry pie?
PRIVATE: Wow-wow-wow.
PUBLIC: And then afterwards in my apartment –
(MADGE enters the bedroom.)
MADGE: Gee, Mary, and Jay! Will you quit them antics!
PUBLIC: Well, you should knock anyway before you enter a man’s room!
MADGE: Man! I bathed you every Saturday night till you were a big lout of fourteen! Your tea’s cold waiting.
(She makes towards door. She goes into the kitchen. PUBLIC and PRIVATE follow her.)
PUBLIC: How was I to know that?
MADGE: Amn’t I hoarse calling you? Dear, but you’re in for a cooling when you go across! (As she passes through the shop door on way to scullery.) Boss!
PRIVATE: (In imitation) ‘Boss!’
(She pauses at the scullery door.)
MADGE: (With shy delight) I forgot to tell you. Nelly had a wee baby this morning.
PUBLIC: Go on!
MADGE: A wee girl – 7 lb 4 oz.
PUBLIC: How many’s that you have now?
MADGE: Four grandnieces and three grandnephews.
(Pause.) And they’re going to call this one Madge – at least so she says.
PUBLIC: I’ll send it a – a – a – an elephant out of my first wages! An elephant for wee Madge!
MADGE: I had a feeling it would be a wee girl this time. Maybe I’ll take a run over on Sunday and square the place up for her. She could do with some help, with seven of them.
PUBLIC: You’re a brick, Madge.
MADGE: Aye, so. (As she goes to scullery.) Wee Madge, maybe …
(PUBLIC sits at the table. PRIVATE leans against the wall beside him.)
PRIVATE: And now what are you sad about? Just because she lives for those Mulhern children, and gives them whatever few half-pence she has? Madge, Madge, I think I love you more than any of them. Give me a piece of your courage, Madge.
(S. B. enters from the shop and goes through his nightly routine. He hangs up the shop keys. He looks at his pocket watch and checks its time with the clock on the wall. He takes off his apron, folds it carefully, and leaves it on the back of his chair. Then he sits down to eat. During all these ponderous jobs PRIVATE keeps up the following chatter:)
And here comes your pleasure, your little ray of sunshine. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you – the one and only – the inimitable – the irrepressible – the irresistible – County Councillor – S – B – O’Donnell! (Trumpet – hummed – fanfare. Continues in the smooth, unctuous tones of the commentator at a mannequin parade.) And this time Marie Celeste is wearing a cheeky little head-dress by Pamela of Park Avenue, eminently suitable for cocktail parties, morning coffee, or just casual shopping. It is of brown Viennese felt, and contrasts boldly with the attractive beach ensemble, created by Simon. The pert little apron is detachable – (S. B. removes apron) – thank you, Marie Celeste – and underneath we have the tapered Italian-line slacks in ocelot. I would draw your attention to the large collar stud which is highly decorative and can be purchased separately at our boutique. We call this seductive outfit ‘Indiscretion’. It can be worn six days a week, in or out of bed. (In polite tone) Have a seat, Screwballs.
(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 plac
e.’ 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!