MAX
(Smiles) And yet I insist—somehow—it is true. In part. A sort of mystical truth. I can’t explain it.
HESTER
That’s most convenient. (Though clearly appeased.)
MAX
Because I was pretty tired when I returned from France. Jaded, old, confused. Just like so many of the rest of us: the ones, I mean, who were lucky enough to return. Those moments that I had with you—they proved even more important than I would have guessed. At the time, they were hugely welcome respites from…from having to remember; which in itself was sufficient blessing. But later—all those years in America, while I was trying to get started there; trying, perhaps, I can’t be sure, trying to run away—they came to stand for…impressions of innocence, of childlike spontaneity, something pure and incorruptible…Does that sound a bit pretentious? I told you I shouldn’t be able to explain. But you…yes, perhaps you lost your identity as Hester, a little…but in that muddled, shell-shocked brain of mine you somehow came to symbolize virtue and simplicity and all those things which were good and well worth clinging onto life for…Maybe it isn’t very complimentary but—
HESTER
(Holding her finger to his lips) Oh, yes, Max, it’s the most complimentary thing you could possibly have said. Like poetry. Truly to stand as the embodiment of such virtue in a war-torn hero’s troubled mind…Please don’t say another word. I’m just afraid you’ll spoil it.
MAX
I wasn’t such a hero.
HESTER
Oh, yes, you were. I won’t hear otherwise! (Strikes a stance, brandishes her rapier) And I’ll fight anyone who tries to tell it differently!
MAX
Including me? That’s just it. I’ve never been a natural fighter. I’ve hated—hated—having to fight. (Sees her fleeting look of disappointment) But I’ll tell you one thing that I am willing to fight for. Us! Our future. The flouting of convention.
HESTER
The flouting of the law!
MAX
Yes…Well…Thank God at least that you’re not too conventional.
HESTER
I’d rather be dead first. And thank God that you’re my mother’s favourite brother. What’s more, thank God you’re on your way to becoming her richest one also—and will be able to provide not only for us, but for her and the girls as well.
MAX
Hester, my dear.
HESTER
Why, what’s the matter?
MAX
It’s one thing to be a little unconventional because your situation dictates it. It’s another to put things into words unnecessarily…No, it’s the way that you put them into words. You make them sound almost like some kind of commercial transaction. This isn’t in the least like that. As I told you just five minutes ago, your mother is a very unusual and exceedingly broad-minded woman and—
HESTER
Yes, but how else could I put them into words? Money does make a difference. And I’m not a hypocrite. And never shall be. (Pause) Max, I don’t care about money for its own sake. I care about it for the good it can do; for the people whom it enables you to help—whether the lepers and the outcasts of this world, or my own mother and sisters.
MAX
I’d be helping your mother and sisters, anyway, whether or not the two of us were marrying.
HESTER
Yes, I know. You’ve a kind heart and a commendable sense of family. But I’m awfully glad that into the bargain you happen to be handsome.
MAX
Thank you.
HESTER
Naomi was telling me she thinks it’s terribly romantic. (Laughs) But she would probably think it even more so if you were poor!
MAX
(Involuntary; almost stern) Naomi is not your mother! (Quickly) Even if Katy had been left well-provided for—which was very far from being the case—it could never have been easy to bring up six daughters. As it is, it’s almost impossible to overstate your mother’s bravery. Or to realize what a struggle she must have had over these past thirteen years. (Pause) And the fact you girls were largely unaware of it makes such an achievement all the more remarkable.
HESTER
Yes, poor mother! Poor, poor mother! (With sudden spurt of laughter) And, apart from anything else, only imagine having six daughters!
MAX
I don’t suppose she’d wish to exchange any one of them.
HESTER
Maybe not, maybe not. But I want boys—boys—nothing but boys! So do you; did I remember to mention that?
MAX
I wouldn’t mind just one little girl amongst them. So long, naturally, as she’ll be the spit and image of her mama.
HESTER
When I’ve presented you with five sons I might come up with one little girl, as a reward. No, I will; I truly promise. I’m going to make you such a good wife. In every way. I shall always look after you most splendidly…in return, of course, for your looking after me! When I’m fifty you’ll be over seventy—just think of that—but you’ll be the best-looked-after old gentleman anyone ever set eyes on. So wise and good and well-regarded. The world will say, “Those two—since the beginning of time they were surely meant to be with one another!”
MAX
That’s very kind but—I’d rather you didn’t dwell on them too much, those twenty years. I keep telling myself I’m your cousin, not your uncle. Do you realize that at this time in five weeks we’ll be on our way to Austria?
HESTER
Married in Vienna! Naomi’s right: it is romantic! It’s almost like Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett.
MAX
But they didn’t marry in Vienna.
HESTER
No, but the principle’s the same—they, too, had to bundle off in secret. Nor would they have been able to send out invitations. However, I don’t suppose they had so much in the way of close community; far fewer to close ranks around them and be all nice and Jewish and supportive. Though the Brownings did have the march on us in one respect: they settled in Italy, under blue and sunny skies; we’ve got to settle in London, amid the chills and swirling fog.
MAX
Ah, but after Vienna did they spend a week in Paris?
HESTER
(Instantly throwing off mock gloom) No, they didn’t! Paris! How I’ve always wanted to see Paris! What a perfect place to spend the last part of your honeymoon. And by the way, Max, just in case you should be worried, I know that I’m the first of my sisters to get married but that doesn’t mean I haven’t heard all about the facts of life or that—
MAX
Hester!
HESTER
You keep on saying “Hester!”—you’re much more prudish than you used to be. I think I’d better warn you: every time you say Hester in that tone I shall wait until we’re next in public and very loudly call you Uncle Max. That’s a promise. Even when we’re registering at the Georges Cinque on honeymoon. Even when we’re living in sin in London and taking the children on their Sunday walk. Even on the steps of the synagogue and saying good morning to the rabbi—if we should ever go to any synagogue or say good morning to the rabbi.
MAX
Hester, we shall not be living in sin. We shall have been married in a legal and binding ceremony, we shall have all the proper documents to prove it.
HESTER
But not proper or legal in this country, as you well know, my dearest.
MAX
I do so wish you wouldn’t interrupt! And as you well know, too, that’s nothing but a technicality, it—
HESTER
Technicality—oh, fiddlesticks! We may fool the rest of the world, Max, but we’re not going to start fooling each other. Our sons will be illegitimate and we shall love them all the more for being so.
MAX
Hester, I have to say it: I don’t like you in this mood.
HESTER
Very well. Then go and find somebody else to marry! And see if I care!
The
n, with a toss of her head, half playful, half genuinely exasperated, she runs out of the summerhouse. The circle of light fades, but comes up again immediately, over the eighty-three-year-old HESTER, still seated in her armchair. Chanson de Matin will have finished by this time. YOUNG HESTER and OLD HESTER look at each other for a moment, sadly.
OLD HESTER
Oh dear. (She starts to cry)
YOUNG HESTER
Yet you deserved your unhappiness. You tricked him, didn’t you? He was so easy to deceive. Shell shock had muddled all his memories.
OLD HESTER
It wasn’t only for myself—I did it for Mama, as well. She had so much to bear.
YOUNG HESTER
Yes. Mama’s life became a lot easier.
OLD HESTER
And I was nineteen—quite old enough to be married. Ellen, at sixteen, would have been far too young.
YOUNG HESTER
Besides, you meant to help her later—as well as wickedness, there was a real wish for kindness that underlay the act. You even told yourself she might be better off.
OLD HESTER
It was too disgusting, the way he used to kiss her. Fondle and kiss her. I heard them through the door. I peeked in at the window.
YOUNG HESTER
But, oh, how it aroused you! You loved his wrists and hands. His eyes were kind and he was handsome but—yes, how you loved his wrists and hands!
OLD HESTER
Well, that excitement quickly died.
YOUNG HESTER
Also, of course, you wished to be the mistress of your own household, to have your own staff. The first of all your sisters to be wed, to have the run of London theatres and expensive restaurants. You imagined a salon—yourself the gracious hostess. Yes, you’d become a source of encouragement and inspiration: to writers, artists, men of wit. (Pause) And your feelings for him were real; or at least you persuaded yourself they were, and is there any difference? He was a hero who had been all through the War. He had experience—money; you had exuberance—youth. He would take care of you; and you…you would nurse him back to former strength—and enthusiasm—and drive, and make of him the man you thought he had it in him to become. It was a kind of…glorious challenge.
OLD HESTER
And I did make him a good wife. I kept my promise. And afterwards—after the first great disappointment, after those early years of disillusion—gradually, so gradually that I scarcely even noticed—I warmed to him again…though never in that same way. He was prissy and self-pitying and I felt contempt; but proximity and shared interests and gratitude and good intentions—his gratitude and his intentions—though mine as well at times—over the years, these built up a membrane of affection. I think he never guessed—no, no one ever did—at my awareness of the magnitude of my mistake. Continual awareness. But I had made my own bed after all; and I lay down on it—to the best of my ability.
For a moment she covers her face with her hands then suddenly looks up again, with renewed vigour, at HER YOUNGER SELF.
OLD HESTER
(Cont) But you! At nineteen. With energy. With beauty. With your whole life in front of you. You could have done so much. Cherished each passing day; achieved some little thing, pinpointed some thought, some act, some new experience—salvaged something of value, no matter how small, from every one of them, those passing days; written it down, given it substance, saved it from oblivion. Just one good turn a day—and think what your life could have been, and how your passing would be mourned. You didn’t know, you didn’t see, you were so stupid—I have no patience with you—shoo! Shoo! Just leave me be!
And she waves THE YOUNGER HESTER off, in disgust.
OLD HESTER
(Cont.) Dear God, how long have I got left? My mother lived till eighty-six; her mother was the same. Supposing I still have a full three years to go? Three more summers; three more springs. Over a thousand days. A thousand! That’s a wonderfully long time. A thousand days could make up for a lot. Used properly, they could make up for almost everything. I shall tick them off one by one and try to treasure every minute of my time. Only…pray God I don’t go senile. Pray God I don’t go deaf or lame or that I don’t develop cancer. Don’t let me lose my memory. Let me use these days to think only about others; let every one of them contain some shining deed. Oh, if somehow I could just be sure about those thousand days! (Pause) Dear God. Help me. Let it all have meant something.
She is clearly invigorated by her prayer. Gets up, walks about the room, starts to move around it with a certain bounce, a rhythm; finally follows Ellen’s example and breaks into a tango—though without the rose. She hums the same tune Ellen did; but she doesn’t know the words and makes no attempt to use them.
In the midst of this, FLORA comes in; stands watching in amazement.
FLORA
(Extremely flat through much of what ensues) You seem very happy. Where has Ellen gone?
HESTER
Oh, Ellen went home; she said to say goodbye. Yes, darling, I am very happy. And so must you be. It’s all going to be all right.
FLORA
Yes, I’ve just been talking to Tony. He seems…well, less sure of himself and of what he’s going to do.
HESTER
(Nods) I’m certain Tony is going to be sensible. I think he’s seen the error of his ways. I’ve seen the error of mine, as well.
FLORA
Meaning what?
HESTER
Meaning we shouldn’t try to push him. We should try to give him room to breathe.
FLORA
Whether he stays on at college or not I don’t want him living with that woman.
HESTER
Darling, we have to accept it. She may not be a bad girl. Not la crème de la crème, of course, but even so she may do him some good and he may do her some good and her poor little boys as well—we mustn’t forget them. Perhaps we can have them all to lunch one Sunday—the Sunday after next, maybe—and take them up to the Heath or to the zoo and buy them all ice creams. Treats and outings; that does everyone some good. I wish he hadn’t left. I should like to have suggested it.
FLORA
He hasn’t. He’s gone in to see Walter. But, Mother, please. Don’t rush things. Let’s think about it for a while. I’m not even sure if I could bear to meet her at the moment.
HESTER
Darling, I understand exactly how you feel. But we’ve got to make the best of it. Otherwise we’ll only alienate him—which of course is the last thing any of us wants.
FLORA
To be honest, right now I don’t feel I very much care.
HESTER
Besides. You might like her. Might find she’s rather good company. She may be someone to go around the shops with—while Mary and I look after the children. You could take her to the cinema. And Tony said the boys are sweet. It could be almost like having your own grandchildren.
FLORA
Oh, stop it, Mother. Stop it! Don’t!
HESTER
Flora, sweetheart, what’s the matter? Come and sit down. You’re overwrought. Let me get you something to drink. A brandy, perhaps—how would you like a brandy?
FLORA
No, I don’t want anything. I’ll be all right. (She sits)
HESTER
(Also sits) Why don’t you sleep here tonight? Go to bed in your old room. Have a hot-water bottle. A mug of Horlicks. Propped against a comfy mound of pillows. In the morning you can lie in and Mary will bring you breakfast. And the papers. You need a spot of coddling. I don’t think you’ve had nearly enough of it—I don’t think you’ve had any—not for far too long a time.
FLORA
No, of course I must go home. It’s only round the corner. And, anyway, I haven’t got any of my night things with me.
HESTER
No, darling, I’ve made up my mind; you know I’m irresistible. And as for your things—we can walk round and collect those later. Or I’m sure we could find you a nightie and a spare toothbrush.
You said yourself that you don’t like being by yourself in that great empty flat; that you detest your own company—and that sometimes you get frightened.
FLORA
But, Mother, I’m not a child. I mustn’t give in to such silly things as that.
HESTER
In fact, I’ve an even better idea! I don’t know why we never thought of it before. You must give up your flat and you must move in here. That’s the obvious answer. It will save you a lot of money and it will be lovely for the pair of us. Flora, you can’t think what it would mean to have you here again, under this roof. It would be just like old times; it would be just like turning back the clock.
FLORA
(Wistful) Turning back the clock?
HESTER
Wouldn’t that be wonderful? And we’ll do such things together. We’ll have outings. Theatres, lunches, concerts. I’ll educate you, darling. I’ll make you appreciate good music. You’ll be forever grateful.
FLORA
Well, I must say—you make it sound quite tempting. I do get very low at times. Ever since Tony left home.
HESTER
I know you do, my pet. Don’t think your mummy doesn’t know about these things. But that’s all done with now. No more loneliness. No more feeling down. (Laughs) I won’t allow it, do you hear! I’ll even teach you how to tango.
FLORA
(More animated) Oh, have you forgotten that I once won a dancing medal? Anyway, why were you doing the tango?
HESTER
Following in dear Ellen’s footsteps. She suddenly got some bee in her bonnet, just before she left. Here, darling. Together. I haven’t danced a proper tango in about six centuries.
She gets up, almost pulls her daughter to her feet. FLORA at first resists but then they hold hands and step out solemnly, with some gusto on HESTER’S part; with readiness to please, rather than real enjoyment, on FLORA’S. Still to that same tune from Damn Yankees—which HESTER hums alone at first but which FLORA eventually accompanies her in They don’t do very well, however. After a turn or two they come to a laughing halt.
Father of the Man Page 31