Father of the Man

by Stephen Benatar

  During the next fifteen minutes or so, HESTER will return to the radiogram at least a couple of times, either to select a new record or—where appropriate—simply turn one over; the records don’t have to be LPs. Neither she nor HAROLD needs to comment on the music, other than with—perhaps—a grimace or appreciative nod.

  FLORA

  (Hardly in the room yet) Yes. The man himself! It seems there wasn’t any traffic.

  HAROLD

  (Following close behind) An exaggeration. It just wasn’t as bad as it often is. And since I left the office in extremely good time of course—finding it wise always to anticipate the worst—

  HESTER

  Good evening, Harold. (Crosses and gives him a perfunctory kiss) I must say, I’ve never known you be unpunctual for anything. Which I think does you a lot of credit. And—naturally—your upbringing.

  FLORA

  (Vivacious again) My goodness! There must be something in the air. (To HAROLD) Do you realize what happened? My mother just paid your mother a compliment.

  HESTER

  Oh, don’t be silly, darling. We’re the very best of friends.

  FLORA

  Then so were Mr Churchill and Hitler.

  HESTER

  That’s very sweet of you, Flora. But I’d never have the gall to compare myself to Mr Churchill. Harold, dear, a sherry? Or perhaps you’d rather have some whisky?

  HAROLD

  Whisky, please, Mother-in-Law.

  HESTER

  Harold, how often do I have to tell you? I just can’t put up with that! Hester—or else you don’t get so much as a glass of water.

  HAROLD

  (Smiles) I know. I’m sorry. I keep forgetting. Hester.

  HESTER

  (Cupping a hand to one ear) I didn’t hear.

  HAROLD

  Hester.

  HESTER

  That’s better. (To FLORA) Perhaps we’ll train him yet. Punctuality may be the politeness of kings but it’s not the full story—not by a long chalk.

  FLORA

  I’m afraid that the politeness of kings means you’re going to have to entertain one another for a bit longer than expected. Can you manage that?

  HESTER

  Oh dear. I doubt it. What an ordeal. (Splashes soda into the whisky)

  HAROLD

  (To FLORA) Why? Where are you going?

  FLORA

  Well, naturally—to bath and change! I told you! I couldn’t do it at home.

  HAROLD

  Why do you need to change? You look perfectly all right to me.

  FLORA

  I’m certainly not coming to the theatre like this! (To HESTER) How like a man! I could probably have worn my apron or my housecoat and he’d have said, “Oh, no one will notice! Why fuss?”

  HAROLD

  That isn’t true. You know I’d always expect any wife of mine to conform to the very highest of standards. You ought to be flattered I see nothing wrong with what you’re wearing at the moment.

  FLORA

  Oh! ‘Any wife of mine’! How many do you plan to have?

  HESTER

  Now, now, children! Flora, you just run along. Like you say, Harold and I will no doubt manage to entertain one another most beautifully.

  HAROLD

  (Patently angry with his wife) Good God, Flora, I’m family. Why should I need entertaining? For just ten minutes or so—and I hope it won’t be any longer than that—I shall be perfectly happy to sit and read your mother’s Telegraph.

  HESTER

  (To HAROLD) Ah, yes, but I propose to make you suffer. A little suffering, I believe, is always good for the soul. I’m family too, you see, and I do need entertaining. (Hands HAROLD his drink) I think that’s how you like it.

  HAROLD

  Thank you.

  HESTER

  When you’re ready for another, you may simply help yourself. I always feel the pouring of drinks is really the man’s job.

  HAROLD

  Oh, no, I shan’t want another. Don’t forget I’m driving.

  FLORA

  Right, then. I’ll leave you together. I’ll be as quick as I can.

  Her tone has been a little stiff but suddenly we can almost see her making the effort not to let the evening be spoilt—after all, she has a new dress and this is the first time they’ve been out together in five weeks.

  FLORA

  (Cont) So try not to miss me too much! (She blows them kisses and goes, taking her glass of sherry. Then pops her head back round the door) May I help myself to bubble bath?

  HESTER

  You may help yourself to anything.

  FLORA’S departure marks a brief hiatus.

  HESTER

  Well…a quarter of an hour, let’s say—and that’s looking on the bright side. Would you like a sandwich? I imagine you won’t be eating until later?

  HAROLD

  No, thank you, Mother-in-Law. I’m fine.

  HESTER

  Excuse me?

  HAROLD

  Hester.

  HESTER

  That’s better. But you’re sure—no sandwich? And no Telegraph. Oh dear. What shall we ever find to talk about?

  HAROLD

  I thought the English always talked about the weather.

  HESTER

  Not us. That would show a dreadful lack of imagination. Let me see now. Do you come here often? (Quickly) I hasten to add that the courteous response will not be, “Yes! Far too often!”

  HAROLD

  About three times a fortnight.

  HESTER

  Ah. Mmm. Not a bad-sized dance floor?

  HAROLD

  (Really unpractised at this) No. Actually it almost would make a dance floor. A small one. If you moved all the furniture. There’s not a bad amount of space.

  HESTER

  Yes, and the orchestra’s not bad, either.

  HAROLD

  Is it the London Philharmonic?

  HESTER

  (Surprised) Yes, I believe it is. Do you like it? (Pause) Your wife, by the way, dismisses it as highbrow.

  HAROLD

  For Flora, even Cole Porter could be highbrow.

  HESTER

  And what do you think of Tchaikovsky?

  HAROLD

  Pretty melodies. Makes a pleasant background to conversation. The two composers I like best are undoubtedly Brahms and Schubert.

  HESTER

  (Now definitely impressed) Really? I had no idea. I suppose we’ve never discussed music.

  HAROLD

  One certainly couldn’t sit and talk to Brahms or Schubert.

  HESTER

  Now, that was a rather grave tactical error.

  HAROLD

  I’m sorry?

  HESTER

  You should have said the same about Tchaikovsky. Then you’d have had the perfect pretext just to sit and listen.

  HAROLD

  (Pause) As a matter of fact I think I was being a little unfair to Tchaikovsky. Well, certainly the Pathétique. It expresses something very…lonely…and romantic…and striving. I take back what I said.

  HESTER

  Lonely—and romantic—and striving. Yes. Yes…It’s strange that you should feel that way as well. I think I might adopt it as my theme tune. (Lightly) But it’s too late now, you know. You’re not allowed to backtrack.

  HAROLD

  (Drily humorous) Blast! All my life I’ve been much too slow on the uptake. Can’t we just go back to the beginning?

  HESTER

  Do you mean, five minutes ago or five months ago?

  HAROLD

  (Embarrassed) Flora says some pretty silly things. I suppose because she and my mother don’t always seem to hit if off she automatically assumes…

  HESTER

  (Not believing this for a moment) Yes, that’s more than likely what it is. And she sometimes gets carried away by sheer animal high spirits—exaggerating out of all proportion.

  Pause. They listen to the music. They thoug
htfully sip their drinks.

  HESTER

  (Cont) Wouldn’t it be wonderful to write a symphony or concerto? I’d rather have been a composer than practically anything. Oh, how I wish that as a child I’d kept up my piano lessons—persevered like Ellen.

  HAROLD

  I never had piano lessons. I wish I’d been made to.

  HESTER

  Weren’t your parents fond of music?

  HAROLD

  My father may have been. But he was consumptive—died when I was only two. So I was brought up by just my mother.

  HESTER

  Oh, you poor boy. That must have been dreadful. (Pause) I mean—your father dying.

  HAROLD

  Yes. People don’t always understand what it’s like to have no father.

  HESTER

  Never! Not unless they have experienced it themselves.

  HAROLD

  Why, did your own father…?

  HESTER

  Yes, he died when I was six.

  HAROLD

  I’m sorry.

  HESTER

  But then, of course, I had my five sisters. So—awful though it was—it must have been a great deal more so for an only child. (Pause) Coincidentally, Flora’s father also died when she was young. (Pause) My own beloved Max…

  HAROLD

  I know. Yes. I mean—

  HESTER

  Of course, my husband was a lot older than me: more than twenty years—it didn’t seem so much of an age gap in those days. But he was never strong…shell shock, you know, during the First World War. And we’d been married for nearly fifteen years before Flora came along. Up until then there’d been a whole series of miscarriages and…And I would have liked a larger family but…but it simply wasn’t to be. Yet why should I be boring you with such very old history? Perhaps, after all, I ought to go and find you that newspaper.

  HAROLD

  No, no, of course not. Flora’s quite a chatterbox but…But I didn’t know you’d been through all of this sort of thing.

  HESTER

  Flora’s just a young girl. She has her head full of dancing and dresses and romantic novels. She…Harold, there is nobody in this world whom I love more than Flora. But I think it won’t come as any surprise to you to learn she isn’t exactly the most…the most…How can I put it? Well, I always tried to interest her in things. I sent her to the best schools. She was lively and pretty and very popular. But when it came to her studies she had virtually no curiosity, no application. Which mightn’t have mattered so much if I’d been lucky and had all the children I wanted—because clearly, if you have six children, there’s room for six personality types: the serious and the frivolous, the obedient and the self-willed…(Laughs) Do you know, I don’t believe Flora’s ever properly stood up to me? Apart from that one very major exception, which perhaps it’s more tactful not to mention right now—although it’s unquestionably the sort of exception, I’m afraid, which really does prove the rule. And it isn’t precisely that one wants rebellious children…

  HAROLD

  Well, hardly.

  HESTER

  I was never very tractable, you see, and I suppose it’s merely that—to some extent—one may want a copy of oneself. What arrogance! In reality, I should probably hate to have any such thing. Would we ever leave off fighting?

  HAROLD

  (Pause) And, anyway, I can’t imagine anything worse than having six children. Why, even to bring one new life onto this planet as it is today…

  HESTER

  But Flora wants children.

  HAROLD

  No, she doesn’t. Before we got married she was well aware of my views on that subject and she endorsed them absolutely.

  HESTER

  Now, haven’t I just intimated to you? (Humorously but with underlying annoyance) Her will can be bent by anyone, the very last person she’s spoken to, be it her cleaner or even her husband. Besides, hasn’t it ever occurred to you that I might rather like grandchildren?

  HAROLD

  In a world already so vastly overpopulated? In a world that stands on the very brink of self-destruction?

  HESTER

  (Impatiently) Yes, I know all that but are you sure you’re not just rationalizing? (Tongue-in-cheek) Oh, it’s a messy business bringing up children. It Interferes with your freedoms and your temper. Can quite blow away your comfort.

  HAROLD

  (Apparently unaware of the sarcasm) I thought you were the woman who advocated six. Oh, of course! In your day you had nannies and parlourmaids and things.

  HESTER

  (Sweetly) And more unselfish natures.

  HAROLD

  (Without rancour) Nonsense.

  HESTER

  No, I think people do seem to be growing more and more selfish. More materialistic. Naturally, during the war it was different, but the war has been over for twelve years now and we don’t seem to have learned very much from it, do we?

  HAROLD

  I’m only surprised you thought we should.

  HESTER

  You are a pessimist, aren’t you?

  HAROLD

  In that case, we obviously have much in common.

  HESTER

  (Surprised) Me? I’m not a pessimist. I’m the biggest optimist the world has ever known.

  HAROLD

  Certainly the biggest optimist the world has ever known who believes that human nature is fast deteriorating.

  HESTER

  I wouldn’t say that, precisely.

  HAROLD

  You did say that, precisely.

  HESTER

  (Slightly confused) Nevertheless, I’m extremely hopeful for the future. I think that men are capable of great things if only they would stop behaving like animals and start behaving like superior beings. (Pause) And I’m thoroughly enjoying this conversation—did you know that? It’s not often I get the chance to talk to somebody who thinks. In fact—I don’t mind telling you—that’s always been one of my severest disappointments.

  HAROLD

  (Clearly flattered but trying to hide it) Aren’t there societies you could join? Debating societies?

  HESTER

  No, no. Everyone wanting to talk rather than—like me—just listen. Everyone wanting to take centre stage. I can’t abide that.

  HAROLD

  Then what about your sisters? They all live very close.

  HESTER

  They do, yes, and they’re dear, sweet women, all of them, but though I do say it myself I’m the one who’s inherited the brains of the family—such as they are—well, in all fairness, Ellen too, I suppose. Yet we were born at the wrong time. To be your age today…oh, what a marvel that would be! But to have been born in the Edwardian era, brought up by Victorian parents with Victorian ideas, ideas about a woman’s education and a woman’s place in society and about marriage and divorce and respectability…Oh, Harold, how very lucky you are! If only I had been a man! A man then or a girl now—a girl now wouldn’t be so bad, although a man still has an easier time of it…

  HAROLD

  Do you really think so? Slogging his life away at the office in a job he more often than not…detests?

  HESTER

  (Too preoccupied to have heard) And since I wasn’t a man myself—nor a woman born in the right period—I wanted at least to be able to give birth to boys: to boys: lusty, grabbing, cast-iron boys. And one of my miscarriages didn’t happen until early in the sixth month and they said it would have been a boy. Then how I howled! Not in self-pity but in rage. For, oh, how I myself should then have been born again—what times, what plans, what lives we should have shared…Questing! Vital! Triumphant! (More soberly) But I’m very glad I didn’t have a brother. I’d have been so jealous…(Suddenly aware that she has revealed more than she meant. Goes on hurriedly—lightly) If I’d been a boy, I would have run away to sea!

  HAROLD

  (Seizing with some relief upon this) And probably you’d have been seasick.

&nbs
p; HESTER

  Yes, I would. But what a nothing price to pay! Oh, the glory of having been a traveller! An explorer! An adventurer!

  HAROLD

  Haven’t you travelled?

  HESTER

  (Scornfully) Indeed I have. To such places as Le Touquet and Monte Carlo and Venice—and Amsterdam—and, ah yes, Vienna.

  HAROLD

  And Paris, also? Surely?

  HESTER

  Yes, I’ve also been to Paris.

  HAROLD

  (Pause) I’m sorry.

  HESTER

  What for?

  HAROLD

  I don’t know. For all of it, I suppose. Or perhaps for sounding as though I didn’t understand. Or something. There’ve been many times, too, when I’ve wanted to run away.

  HESTER

  To do what?

  HAROLD

  That’s just it—I never knew. I simply wanted to run away.

  HESTER

  How sad!

  HAROLD

  Yes.

  HESTER

  You could have joined the circus. Or is it just a myth that little boys want to run away to join the circus?

  HAROLD

  I’ve never liked circuses.

  HESTER

  Nor have I.

  HAROLD

  I’ve only been once. I was scared to watch the aerialists. Felt sorry for the animals—plus, on the whole, found them distinctly boring. And I didn’t think the clowns were funny.

  HESTER

  My own sentiments—all of them.

  HAROLD

  The only thing that made me laugh was when an elephant…

  HESTER

  Yes?

  HAROLD

  (Deciding to go ahead)…peed over some people in the front row. But that made everybody laugh.

  HESTER

  Except the people in the front row…Still, it would have been an experience. Something to boast about. Something to dine out on. “I once got peed on by an elephant.” Few people could match that. (They laugh.) Take another drink, my dear.

  HAROLD

  I’m not sure I should. I already feel quite merry.

  HESTER

  And it suits you. I must say, it really does suit you. Though, of course, it’s not just the alcohol. It’s equally…

  HAROLD

  The company. The conversation.

  HESTER

  Well, thank you, Harold. That’s a very nice thing to say.

  HAROLD

  But true.

  HESTER

  And totally reciprocated.

  HAROLD

  Well, just a small one, then. (Goes to help himself) But don’t forget I have to drive.