Brian Friel Plays 1
Page 22
HELEN: Well – how did it go? (To ANNA) Had you a great night? (To FRANK) You have news! I know by your face you have news!
FRANK: I had a wonderful night.
HELEN: Great.
(He catches HELEN in his arms and swings her round.)
FRANK: And I have wonderful news!
HELEN: (To ANNA) Tell me! (To FRANK) Tell me – tell me – tell me –
FRANK: Have a guess.
HELEN: Guess! How can I guess!?
FRANK: But first we’ll have a celebration drink. (Looking at BEN.) A double celebration. (Looking at ANNA.) A treble celebration.
ANNA: Where’s Father Tom?
FRANK: Who cares?
HELEN: (To ANNA) He’s being transferred, isn’t he?
FRANK: Yes, he’s being transferred.
BEN: Wonderful.
FRANK: Where would you like him to be transferred to?
HELEN: Where? Where?
FRANK: Guess.
HELEN: Ah, Father –
FRANK: Take your choice.
HELEN: Tell us! Athlone?
FRANK: Anywhere you like.
HELEN: Ben, where? (To FRANK) I know! Cork!
FRANK: Cork’s for talkers.
BEN: You’re going to Galway.
FRANK: Galway’s for ageing men.
HELEN: Limerick!
FRANK: Good God! Never Limerick!
HELEN: Where else? – where else? – it’s not! It couldn’t be!
FRANK: Couldn’t be what?
HELEN: Dublin?
FRANK: Dublin it is.
HELEN: Oh, Father!
(She kisses him.)
FRANK: (To ANNA) And tell them the rest.
ANNA: Better look out for Father Tom.
(She goes out to the garden.)
FRANK: You are in the presence of Lieutenant-Colonel Frank Butler –
HELEN: Lieutenant –?
FRANK: Administrative Officer, GHQ, Parkgate Street, Dublin City.
HELEN: You’re taking a hand at us, Father!
FRANK: Nothing’s official yet. But when the Chief tells the Taoiseach in your presence how highly he considers you and then in the next breath talks about certain vacancies, you know it’s in the bag.
HELEN: I’m going to waken Tina – phone Miriam –
FRANK: Later – later – later. Let’s savour it ourselves first.
BEN: (Looking around) So you’ll be leaving here.
FRANK: At last, at long last, and without one regret. To Dublin.
HELEN: To the Hero and to Anna.
BEN: To you, Father.
FRANK: Hold on – where’s Anna?
HELEN: In the garden.
(He goes to the door and looks out to the garden. ANNA is crouched beside TOM, trying to waken him.)
FRANK: Let him sit there for God’s sake. Come inside and celebrate with the family.
TOM: (Suddenly awake, sings) We’re here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here –
HELEN: So that’s the condition.
ANNA: (To TOM) Come inside and lie down for a while.
FRANK: You’re a bloody useless slob, Tom. Pull yourself together, man.
HELEN: How did Anna enjoy it?
(FRANK turns back into the living-room. ANNA gets TOM to his feet and they make their way slowly into the room, TOM singing intermittently.)
FRANK: Anna? Anna was – what’s the word? – the cynosure of all eyes. Radiant, that’s what Anna was, sitting there beside me, basking in the glory. And the compliments – my God! The Taoiseach called her – incidentally that was by far the best speech of the night. And astonishingly well informed – named every one of the soldiers I had saved and a few personal comments about several of them. And when he was talking about me – well, he was so effusive and so generous that I was almost embarrassed. Talked about ‘quiet heroes from quiet places’ and ‘men whose full development blossomed only in full manhood’. Really eulogistic stuff. Very satisfying.
HELEN: And Anna?
BEN: Sit over here, Father.
FRANK: That’s the state he was in after the first course.
HELEN: What did he say about Anna?
FRANK: Oh, Anna? What’s this he called you? – a real tongue-twister – ‘the Commandant’s comely, composed and curvaceous consort’ – at which the men just howled. Didn’t they?
ANNA: Yes.
FRANK: Would you like to try that one, Ben?
BEN: (Quickly) You’re okay, Father. You’re fine. That’s it.
ANNA: (To BEN) Could I get him something?
FRANK: Let him sleep it off. He’s beyond sobering.
TOM: (Suddenly awake) Where’s Helen? Want to ’pologize to Helen –
HELEN: Hello, Father.
TOM: (Rising) – ’pologize to Helen – privately – in here, Helen, in here. (Staggers into the kitchen.)
FRANK: Ignore him.
HELEN: Poor old Tom.
FRANK: But the highlight of the evening, Helen – I was presented with an illuminated address by the people of Ballybeg!
TOM: (Off) Helen!
FRANK: The people of Ballybeg – my God! A parchment this length, all the colours of the rainbow, and a photo of me stuck crookedly on the top; and read out before everybody by that pompous T. D. – McLaughlin, McLucas, what’s his name.
HELEN: That was nice of them.
FRANK: D’you think so? Yes, I suppose the intention was good. But being publicly addressed by the people of Ballybeg – ‘you are our most illustrious citizen’ sort of stuff – my God they don’t know me and we don’t know them! But you’ll enjoy this – you really will. Must have left it out in the car. Hold on a second.
TOM: (Off) Helen!
FRANK: I know him in this mood. Ignore him.
(FRANK leaves.)
HELEN: Have you ever seen him so elated! I’m delighted for him. (She kisses ANNA.) For both of you. Was it exhausting? Are you falling apart?
TOM: (Off) Helen!
HELEN: O my God. (Calls) Coming! Coming!
(She goes into the kitchen. Pause.)
ANNA: I can take no more of it.
BEN: If you just –
ANNA: I’m going to clear out in the morning.
BEN: Leave him?
ANNA: Didn’t you hear him? ‘I – I – I – I – I.’ And how they howled – oh, how they howled – after sniggering behind their hands all night.
BEN: At him?
ANNA: Him – me – what matter? I can stand no more. I’ve got to go.
BEN: Just walk out?
ANNA: I’ve got to.
BEN: Oh, Anna, you can’t do that –
ANNA: Why not?
BEN: That – that would kill him – he’d never understand.
ANNA: All right – I’ll make him understand. You want him to understand?
BEN: What I’m saying is that you just can’t walk out without –
ANNA: Fine. I’ll tell him about us first.
BEN: Anna –
ANNA: You want him to understand?
BEN: Will you please –
ANNA: Do you think for one second he’s not going to hear?
BEN: For Christ’s sake –
ANNA: That the good people of Ballybeg or his own staff aren’t going to let him know somehow?
BEN: You won’t!
ANNA: Make up your mind! Is he not going to understand because he’s not told? Or is he going to understand because he’ll be told by them or by me – or by you, Ben?
BEN: Nobody need say anything. I’ll clear out in –
ANNA: Yes, you’ll clear out – typical Ben! What about me?
BEN: I’m warning you, Anna.
ANNA: Don’t wag your finger at me!
BEN: If you tell him –
ANNA: Tell him – don’t tell him – either way I’m leaving.
BEN: I’m saying n-n-n-nothing. I promise you that. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
ANNA: In that case I’ll tell him. He deserves th
at much from me.
BEN: You’re a heartless bitch!
(Enter HELEN and TOM, arm in arm.)
HELEN: Poor Father Tom. D’you know what that was all about? He officiated at all the Butler weddings and all the Butler baptisms but he didn’t officiate at Helen’s wedding, even though Helen asked him, because Louise disapproved and he hadn’t the courage to stand up to Louise and it has been on his conscience ever since and that’s why he’s drunk tonight – otherwise he’d be cold sober. So.
TOM: Am I forgiven, Helen?
HELEN: Nothing to forgive, Father.
TOM: You know something, Helen?
HELEN: What’s that, Father?
TOM: I’m no damn good, Helen. No damn good at all. I’m – I’m a washout, Helen.
HELEN: Indeed you’re not.
TOM: You can’t fool me, Helen, I know. I know.
HELEN: You’re fine, Father.
TOM: And I’m forgiven?
HELEN: Completely.
(He slumps into a seat.)
TOM: Thanks be to God.
(Almost immediately he is asleep.)
HELEN: There you are – instant absolution!
(FRANK enters reading in mock heroic style from the parchment. He begins at the front door.)
FRANK: ‘We, the people of Ballybeg, learn with great pride and great delight of the heroic deeds of Commandant Frank Butler’ – Lieutenant-Colonel Butler, if you don’t mind, Ballybeg – ‘who is an honoured and distinguished member of our parish and whose family the people of Ballybeg have always held in the highest esteem.’
HELEN: Read it properly, Father. Don’t make a mock of it.
FRANK: ‘We have always known the Hero of Hari’ – Who’s that? I beg your pardon – ‘to have been an officer of exemplary habit and behaviour, a citizen of outstanding probity –’
ANNA: Frank.
FRANK: ‘– and a father and a family man’ – I like this – ‘of noblest Christian integrity and rectitude.’
ANNA: Frank.
FRANK: Get down on your knees. ‘We are confirmed in our estimate, therefore, when the fame of his heroic actions spread out across the face of –’
ANNA: I’ve something to say to you, Frank.
(He stops and looks at her. TINA comes sleepily downstairs in her dressing-gown and is about to enter when she hears ANNA’s voice. She stands outside the living-room door.)
I am not going to Dublin with you.
FRANK: Nobody’s going anywhere, my darling, until official confirmation comes.
ANNA: Then – any time – I’m not going to Dublin – I’m not going anywhere with you.
(Pause.)
FRANK: What is the matter, my love?
ANNA: Are you deaf? Are you stupid? Don’t you understand simple words?
(As he puts out his hand to her.) Don’t – don’t – don’t touch me! I’m leaving you, Frank – can’t you understand that? Leaving you – leaving you – is that simple enough?
(Very long pause during which FRANK, puzzled, studies her face for clues.)
HELEN: I think she’s –
FRANK: What is wrong, Anna?
HELEN: (To ANNA) You’ve had a very tiring –
FRANK: (Firmly) Please, Helen. (Quietly to ANNA.) Why are you leaving me, Anna? Is it something that I have said?
(ANNA turns away from him because she is crying. She shakes her head.)
FRANK: Is it something that I have done?
(ANNA shakes her head.)
HELEN: Anna –
FRANK: (Very sharply) Helen, please. (Again quietly to ANNA) Is it something that I have not done?
(ANNA shakes her head.)
Then why are you leaving me, Anna?
ANNA: You were so long away –
FRANK: Five months.
ANNA: And we’d been together such a short time –
FRANK: Ten days.
ANNA: (Quickly) And I tried to keep you, to maintain you in my mind – I tried, Frank, I tried. But you kept slipping away from me. I searched Tina for you, and Miriam, but you weren’t in them. And then I could remember nothing – only your uniform, the colour of your hair, your footstep in the hall – that’s all I could remember – a handsome, courteous, considerate man who had once been kind to me and who wrote me all those simple, passionate letters – too simple, too passionate. And then Ben came. And I found you in him, Frank.
FRANK: Found me?
ANNA: I was lost.
(FRANK looks at her, then at BEN, then back to her.)
FRANK: Are you telling me that you and he –?
ANNA: We had an affair! We were lovers, Ben and I! And everybody in the camp knows! Everybody in Ballybeg knows! Everybody except the Butlers! That’s what I’m telling you! We had an affair!
(TINA gives a short cry – unheard in the living-room – and rushes upstairs.)
HELEN: O Ben! – you? – O God!
(She turns away from him. FRANK goes to TOM and puts his hand on the Chaplain’s shoulder.)
FRANK: (Softly) Chaplain – Chaplain.
TOM: Mmmm?
FRANK: Help, Chaplain.
TOM: (Wakening) Wha’ – wha’ – what’s that?
FRANK: Advice, counsel, help, Chaplain.
TOM: What’s the trouble, Frank?
FRANK: I need help, Tom.
TOM: Terrific, Frank – just terrific – terrific.
FRANK: What does a man do, Tom?
TOM: Yes, sir – yes, sir – just terrific.
FRANK: What should a man do?
(TOM is asleep again. FRANK looks at him. Then very slowly he walks around the room as if he were trying to remember something.) (Finally, conversationally) You know, when I think about it – my God, how she must have suffered. Not that I was insensitive to it – far from it; I used to try to imagine what it was like. I would close my eyes and attempt to invest my body with pain, willing it into my joints, deliberately desiring the experience. But it’s not the same thing – not the same thing at all – how could it be? Because it cannot be assumed like that – it has got to be organic, generated from within. And the statistics are fascinating too – well, no, not fascinating – how could they be fascinating; but interesting, interesting. It starts around forty; it’s estimated that five to six per cent of the population is affected; and women are three times more susceptible than men. But there you are – she was outside the general pattern. What age was she? Helen was what? – three? – four? – so she can’t have been more than twenty-eight or twenty-nine. And she had a very brief introductory period, as they call it. Within six months the hands and feet were swollen and within twelve months the spine was affected. So that within no time at all the fibrous tissues had replaced the normal tissues and when that happens you have at least a partial disorganization of the joints and sometimes complete ankylosis – yes, you’d think I was an authority –
HELEN: Father –
FRANK: – and of course we attempted everything that was available – physiotherapy, teeth, tonsils, surgery, gold injections, aspirin courses, codeine courses. We even went to a quack in Kerry who promised us that before we’d be halfway home every swelling would have disappeared. And the cortisone era – my God, the miracle era – the cure for everything. And she responded so wonderfully to it at first – absolutely no pain. She was even able to throw away the stick for a couple of weeks. But it was an illusion – an illusion. Back came the pain, worse than ever. Much, much worse. My God, how she suffered. My God, how she suffered. (He stops and looks at each person in the room. Then he looks out at SIR, whom he now addresses loudly, very deliberately, and with conscious formality. He is very calm and very controlled.) Sir.
(SIR speaks quietly and does not raise his eyes from the ledger.)
SIR: Frank.
FRANK: I wish to protest, Sir. I wish to lodge a formal protest.
SIR: Yes, Frank.
FRANK: I am quite calm. And I am not bleating. I am not snivelling.
SIR: No, Frank.
SIR: Yes, Frank.
FRANK: Yes, you did say we could speak our thoughts. That was established at the outset, wasn’t it? Well, I wish to protest against my treatment. I wish to say that I consider I have been treated unfairly.
SIR: (Looking up) Frank, I –
FRANK: No, I’m not addressing you, Sir; I’m not addressing them; I suppose I’m not addressing anybody. And I am fully aware that protesting at this stage is pointless – pointless.
SIR: You can –
FRANK: No, no, no, of course it is. Absolutely pointless. The ledger’s the ledger, isn’t it? Nothing can be changed now – not a thing. But an injustice has been done to me, Sir, and a protest must be made. I don’t claim that I have been blameless. Maybe my faults have been greater than most. But it does seem – well, spiteful that when a point is reached in my life, and late in my life, when certain modest ambitions are about to be realized, when certain happinesses that I never experienced are suddenly about to be attainable, it does seem spiteful that these fulfilments should be snatched away from me – and in a particularly wounding manner. Yes, I think that is unfair. Yes, that is unjust. And that is why I make this formal protest, Sir. Against an injustice done to me. Because I have been treated unfairly, Sir – that is all. (He stops and looks around at the others – all isolated, all cocooned in their private thoughts. He opens his mouth as if he is about to address them, but they are so remote from him that he decides against it. He turns slowly and begins to walk up stage.)
SIR: Frank!
(FRANK ignores the call and goes through the door right off the fireplace, closing it behind him – this is the only time this door is used. Pause. Suddenly TOM, now sober, jumps to his feet. He is very agitated, and when he looks at the others, so contained, so remote, his panic increases. He goes to BEN.)
TOM: You’re not going to let him go, are you? You’re going to stop him, aren’t you? For God’s sake, Ben, you’ve got to stop him! (BEN remains encased and intact in his privacy. TOM looks to HELEN and goes to her.)
You know what’s going to happen! You know what he’s going to do! Stop him. Helen! Stop him! Stop him! (She looks at him as if he were a stranger.)
Don’t you hear what I’m saying – he has got to be stopped! (HELEN looks away from him. TOM now addresses them all.) How can you all sit there! You know what he’s going to do! (No one responds. TOM now looks to SIR – and rushes to him. He is about to cry with panic and despair.)