Father of the Man

by Stephen Benatar

  HESTER

  Flora, darling, please. You mustn’t upset yourself like this. Whether other people knew it or not, I always did, and I respected you for it. You looked into the future. You knew that to become too dependent on someone who was one day bound to disappear wouldn’t be a healthy thing, and you were responsible and mature and courageous in keeping to that decision. I don’t know how you managed it.

  FLORA

  (Bleakly but with a hint of self-mockery) I went to lots of marriage bureaux.

  HESTER

  Of course you did. I haven’t forgotten the bravery it required. Nor how beautiful you were—and how incredibly lucky any blind fool of a man should indeed have felt to meet you! But the trouble is you had no money and you had a young son to bring up.

  She looks at TONY as she says this, wanting to remind him both of his obligations to his mother and of the folly of taking on another man’s family without having the funds to do so.

  TONY

  I’m sorry, Mum. I really am.

  FLORA

  Well, I am too, darling. I didn’t mean to start on all of that.

  HESTER

  It’s just that your mother and I don’t want to see you throw your life away. (Pause) You truly have decided? You truly must go through with it?

  TONY

  Haven’t you yourself always said it’s wrong to break your word?

  HESTER

  As a guiding principle, yes. Though naturally it should depend on the circumstances.

  TONY

  I don’t see how. It’s not as though I’d been coerced.

  HESTER

  Still. Circumstances do vary.

  ELLEN

  I agree with Tony. When you’ve raised someone to be honourable you have to accept the consequences. It’s a situation sometimes known as being hoist with your own petard.

  HESTER

  Oh, Ellen, stop being so frivolous; there’s nothing to be frivolous about. (Pause) On the other hand, I suppose there’s nothing to be so gloomy about, either. (To TONY) Just so long as you won’t let it interfere with your studies. Then, in another couple of years, after you’ve got a good degree and found yourself a decent job—

  TONY

  I’m leaving university.

  This is an interruption which—again—causes a stunned silence.

  HESTER

  What did you say?

  TONY

  I’m leaving university.

  HESTER

  Is that really what you said? I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. I didn’t believe you could be so utterly devoid of consideration—or vision—or practicality. So wholly and impossibly puerile. Is that really what you said?

  TONY

  I’ve been offered a job at a crisp factory for nearly a hundred pounds a week. (Pause) And I’ve already seen the sub-dean.

  HESTER

  Then, of course, you’d better go back to see him! How thunderstruck he must have been! How literally struck dumb! (Pause) You’d better tell us what he said.

  TONY

  In fact he did try to dissuade me. Up to a point.

  HESTER

  I hope he told you how completely mad you were.

  TONY

  No. He—

  FLORA

  Because that’s what you are, of course. Completely and utterly mad! Besotted! A hundred pounds a week; a job in a crisp factory! (She is now openly crying.) And if anyone had ever told me…Oh, I can’t take any more of this, I simply can’t!

  She gets up and rushes out.

  HESTER

  (Standing) Flora! Flora, darling! (To TONY) Now see what you’ve done. That you, of all people—! And after all those dreams we’ve had on your behalf! No, I don’t speak about myself—I don’t expect you to have any care for me—why should you? But your mother! I don’t think you quite appreciate—I don’t believe you ever did…But, as she said, if she hadn’t chosen you—chosen to give you life—she could still have had a real life of her own, she could still have had a husband. Yet all along she’s gone without so that you wouldn’t have to. How can you repay a debt like that? Certainly not by thinking only of yourself. Me, me, me: that’s what it’s always been in your case, hasn’t it? Hidden behind the sheerest veil of plausibility and charm. You rely on your sweet phrases and good looks to carry you through; to make everyone think how wonderful you are. Well, shall I tell you what you really are? You’re immoral. Immoral! You don’t give two hoots whom you harm, so long as you yourself can sail through life with blithe inconvenience—and I see no hope for you at all, not the slightest chance of redemption. For I’ll tell you another thing, shall I? Unless you mend your ways at once, then I for one shall never wish to see you again. Never! I hope that’s clearly understood. Connection severed! So I trust that you’ll think about what you’re doing—in the light of what I’ve just said—think very, very carefully indeed. (Pause) Now I am going to try to bring a little comfort to your mother.

  And she sweeps out of the room, leaving behind her not merely a dazed grandson but an almost equally dazed sister.

  ELLEN

  (Eventually) Well…That was a little masterpiece of economy.

  TONY

  (Shakily) No, I shouldn’t like to write it on the back of a postage stamp. .

  ELLEN

  Of course, the one thing it did economize on—as they put it so very quaintly these days—was the truth.

  TONY

  Oh, I don’t know. I suppose that has to depend on your point of view.

  ELLEN

  Poor old Tony. You know, you’re much too nice for your own good.

  TONY

  (Shakes his head; seems close to tears) That isn’t true at all.

  ELLEN

  But all you need is the courage of your convictions. (Then more positively—clearly hoping to instill strength.) And you’ve certainly got that.

  TONY

  No. Wrong again. I’m scared stiff.

  ELLEN

  (Stands; walks about in agitation) Oh, I could swear! Most truly I could! What’s more, I could say a most exceedingly naughty word. (Pause) Families!

  TONY

  Is that your naughty word?

  ELLEN

  In certain situations there is none naughtier.

  TONY

  (Avoiding priggishness) I’ve always been extremely fond of my family.

  ELLEN

  I know you have. I’ve often observed it—and marvelled. My own feelings towards the family have always been…well, a little more complex. (Hollow laugh) I suppose that’s what comes of being the only plain one amongst six sisters.

  TONY

  (Meaning it) You aren’t plain!

  ELLEN

  Oh, it’s true that by some fluke I may have grown better-looking with age. But the trouble is, when I was young I never thought of saying to any potential beau: why not hang around for half a century, I could turn into a corker! So what happens? One by one you see your sisters marry—five times a bridesmaid in your own family alone. And you become so eaten up with jealousy and longing and resentment. And so sick of being patronized. “Oh, Ellie—she’s the only one of us who has a singing voice. And she’s by far the best dancer in the family!” Though you can always hear the rider trembling on their lips…“If only she could find a partner!” But all the time you smile. You make jokes. You’re a good sport. “Oh, Ellie, absolutely the right person to have around if you’re in trouble!” And you take your nephews and nieces to the pantomime and out on other treats—

  TONY

  And your great-nephews, too.

  ELLEN

  (Now without the bitterness) Yes. And actually you have a lot of fun while doing it. Oh, I shouldn’t moan; for all of us down here, life is a vale of tears. (Pause) Do you know what Cary Grant once said—even Cary Grant? He said that his life had been nothing but stomach disturbances and self-concern. I shouldn’t be in the least bit pleased by that, and yet…It must be my soured and crabby nature. I alway
s liked Cary Grant but I never took to him so completely as when I first read that. And it was only a few months back, yet by that time he was dead. Wouldn’t you know?

  TONY

  And if he hadn’t been?

  ELLEN

  I could have cabled him a kiss.

  TONY

  (Pause) You called me poor old Tony. I want to call you poor old Ellen. I never knew.

  ELLEN

  Well, I’m just as glad you didn’t. (Smiles, sits down, continues abruptly) And do you realize? I’ve never had a man. (After a moment lifts a hand) No, I shouldn’t have said that. Forgive me. For one thing—what on earth can a person reply? (Lightly) Anyway, perhaps that’s why I’ve survived longer than any of my sisters apart from your grandmother. There’s a happy side to all of it.

  TONY

  What do you think I ought to do? (Pauses) Am I just being stupid, and thoughtless, and obstinate?

  ELLEN

  (Slowly; as though finally deciding on something) Listen. I’m going to tell you a story. It may prove mildly helpful. Or then, again, it may not. But think of it simply as one of Aesop’s fables. Ellen Aesop.

  TONY looks at her in some surprise.

  ELLEN

  (Cont) It’s something that happened thirty years ago.

  Pause, while they still look at one another. TONY settles back in his chair, expectantly.

  ELLEN

  (Cont) It was just after your mother was married; she was nineteen. Your father wasn’t at all the right person for her—he never could have been. They were too much alike. He, too, had been dominated by a forceful mother; he, too, was looking for a way out. He was twenty-five; had never been away from home. Always kept very much in thrall; always to some extent resentful of it. Yes, they were more like brother and sister than sweethearts: each weak in the same way, each wanting to show the world that they were strong. It was a cruel trick of Fate’s to throw two such similar personalities, spawned by two such similar situations, slap bang into each other’s path—and then make both of them nice-looking, so that, naturally, they’d feel attracted. They had known each other only two weeks before announcing their engagement. (Pause) Do you mind my talking about your parents in this way? It is necessary.

  TONY

  (Shakes his head) And none of it, so far, is new. It’s only what Mum has often said of Dad, and also what Dad—well, he hasn’t come out with it in so many words but if you put two and two together—what Dad has often said of Mum. They each see it in the other; I don’t know if they see it in themselves. Apparently, we’re an inherently weak family.

  ELLEN

  I didn’t realize you still saw your father.

  TONY

  Only once a year, at most. Tea at the Ritz—or dinner at Simpson’s—or, more and more these days, just a drink at the pub when he’s on his way to catch the train…the train that bears him back to my wicked stepmother. So, you’ll understand, it’s strictly duty—on both sides.

  ELLEN

  Is she very wicked?

  TONY

  Well, let’s just say we don’t get on.

  ELLEN

  And did you ever know your Granny Drapkin?

  TONY

  Granny Peggy? Oh, yes. I must have been at least eight or nine when she died. Yes, I remember her as very…well, forthright. But not at all like Gran. Not the same warmth, nor sense of humour. Nor the same kindness for lame dogs, the same compassion for humanity in general. Perhaps that’s a bit unfair: I wasn’t really old enough to make those kinds of comparison. (Smiles) All I know is, Granny Peggy cut stingy bits of cake; and never gave me more than 10p whenever I went to see her.

  Knock on door. Enter MARY.

  MARY

  May I clear away now? Oh—where is Mrs Berg?

  ELLEN

  Probably in her bedroom, Mary. With Mrs Drapkin. Yes, by all means clear away.

  TONY

  I’ll help you.

  They quickly stack the plates etcetera onto the large tray MARY has brought.

  MARY

  (In chatty, tolerant mood) Oh Lord…Mr Davis! He’s had about six teas. He keeps coming into the kitchen and asking is it teatime yet and where is Mrs Berg. So the only way I can get him to go back to his room is by leading him there myself, walking just a foot or two ahead, backwards, with a chocolate biscuit in each hand. Poor old gentleman. I hope he won’t get ill.

  ELLEN

  In his day, a most excellent dental surgeon—renowned for giving hardly any pain. Later on, a conscientious magistrate. Widely loved and well respected. (Pause) Oh dear. That life can really come to this!

  MARY

  (With feeling) Yes. And all he does is nod off in his chair or read the same bit of newspaper over and over again. Mrs Berg only buys a newspaper once a week. I tell her once a year would be sufficient! And when you put on his television he says, “I can never understand one word they’re saying. Can you explain what’s going on?” I hope they kill me off, before I get to his age.

  TONY

  Drop any more of Gran’s china and they probably will. You’d better let me take that tray.

  MARY

  That’s very kind of you but I can manage it; I’m stronger than I look. (TONY holds door open) Thank you, Mr Tony. (She goes. TONY closes door)

  TONY

  (Sits) Right then, Ellen. You were saying?

  ELLEN

  Right then, Tony. I was saying…What was I saying? Ah, yes. At first they hated one another—your father and grandmother; couldn’t get on at all. Or, at any rate, he hated her; must have felt that in his attempt to escape one matriarch he’d only ended up with two. Because, of course, the marriage, with the setting up of their own home down the road in Golders Green, a house bought for them by Hester and furnished by Mrs Drapkin, their marriage didn’t—maybe couldn’t—break any of the ties. The knots if you like were slackened…although I wouldn’t even want to bet too much on that. If I’m not mistaken, it was dinner with the one on Tuesday nights, dinner with the other on Fridays, and Sunday lunch alternating between the two: West Hampstead this week, Maida Vale the next. Even besides that, while Harold was at work, Flora was continually popping round to see her mum, most likely to expatiate—I shouldn’t be surprised!—on the various disappointments of her married life. Apart from the central one, that is, of still being hedged around with apron strings. Which quite possibly she didn’t even recognize any longer as being a disappointment. (Pause) Anyway, my dear Tony, I hope that all this adequately sets the scene. Do you wish me to continue?

  TONY

  Of course.

  And as soon as he has said this, the lights go down. In the darkness, the Pathétique starts playing on the radiogram. A noticeably different vase of flowers and perhaps two or three striking cushions should be enough to suggest another time. It is still summer—still early evening—but now thirty years earlier.

  When the lights go up, the room is empty. After a moment HESTER enters, followed by FLORA. They are wearing the fashions of 1957. FLORA, at nineteen, is pretty and youthful and full of fun; but, even so, essentially respectful and compliant.

  HESTER

  (While entering) How long before Harold comes to pick you up?

  FLORA

  Half an hour? Depending on the traffic. The curtain rises at seven-thirty.

  HESTER

  I was listening to Tchaikovsky. Isn’t this lovely! (Waves her hands a little, as though conducting)

  FLORA

  (Shrugs gaily) Oh, you know me: I prefer something a bit less highbrow.

  HESTER

  Dear God. What did I ever do to deserve such a daughter?

  FLORA

  (Laughs) Where’s Jarvie, by the way?

  HESTER

  Day off. Would you like a sherry?

  FLORA

  Perhaps a quick one, before I go and change. I think you’ll love my dress. It was madly extravagant. Harry will throw a fit.

  HESTER

  I look forward to s
eeing it.

  FLORA

  (Playfully provocative) The dress—or Harold’s fit? (But waits for no reply) Thank you for saying I might have my bath here. Mind you, you could hardly have done otherwise: after all, it was you who told us to install central heating. All the floors up. No hot water. And of course it had to be today, didn’t it?—the very first time we’ve been out together in more than five weeks! Filth inches deep. Men all over the place. (Laughs) Not that in the normal way I’d be complaining about that. One of them is rather nice, as it happens. Sleeves rolled right up; shirt unbuttoned down to here; wicked twinkle in his eye.

  HESTER

  Darling! And you a bride of only four months!

  FLORA

  Well, Harry hasn’t got a wicked twinkle. (Smilingly outrageous) Nor has he got hair upon his chest.

  HESTER

  Flora, that’s enough! I think a little maidenly reserve should be called for. Anyway, I myself never cared for human apes. Smooth-skinned men were always far more to my taste.

  FLORA

  Besides. I don’t feel like a bride.

  HESTER

  You’re not going to say you have regrets?

  FLORA

  Is that a question, or an order? Besides, you already know I don’t find Harry much fun. He’s moody and he sulks a lot. I keep telling him that if he loved me he wouldn’t be so…so undemonstrative…and grumpy.

  HESTER

  And I kept telling you that nineteen was too young!

  FLORA

  You were nineteen.

  HESTER

  Yes. Yes, I was nineteen. But that was very different—so please don’t make comparisons! The love which your father and I had for one another was…was wholly unique. (Much lighter) Anyhow, my darling—without wishing to be in the least bit unsympathetic—you were just so determined, weren’t you? To up and leave the nest. Next time, perhaps, you’ll listen to your mother.

  FLORA

  Gracious! We’re just off to a theatre. Not the divorce court!

  HESTER

  I’m very pleased to hear it.

  The doorbell rings.

  FLORA

  Could that be him already? (Glances at her watch) In any case, I’ll go.

  While FLORA is away HESTER crosses to the radiogram and turns the record over. She listens for a moment with enjoyment. We hear HAROLD and FLORA approach. HAROLD is dressed in a smart suit, with well-polished black shoes, white shirt, sober tie. His hair is much shorter than Tony’s. He wears a moustache.