Jason: Thank you very much indeed.
Witch: Because you are so courteous and fine a boy withal, I shall give you a special enchantment. (Rummages through her robes and brings out a phial, which she gives to Jason). There! When you need to dispose of an enemy, take a sip from that phial and all will be well. It will stitch him right up.
Jason: That is very kind of you, madam.
Witch: You are a fine young prince.
Exit witch, cackling.
Sebastian: (Looking over wall) Thank you for that, Jason, I know not what I would have done without you. Perhaps now you could go back to the castle and bring some back-up troops. I shall creep through the undergrowth and find my way to Hugo’s castle to see where the fair Juliet is hidden.
Jason: Even so shall I do, my good friend. Take care!
Exits.
ACT FIVE
Back in the King’s castle. The Queen and Sir Flavius are on stage.
Sir Flavius: My darling.
Queen: Good Sir Flavius.
Sir Flavius: I adore you.
Queen: You’re silly. But keep on adoring me.
Sir Flavius: Darling, let us be brave. Let us become King and Queen together.
Queen: Yes! Together we are unstoppable.
Flavius and the Queen kiss.
Queen: How shall we go about this?
Sir Flavius: Leave it up to me.
They exit together. Jason leaps out from behind one of the suits of armour.
Jason: Ha! Little do they realise I have been listening to them! I must find the King my father and speak to him urgently. Hark! Here he comes now.
Enter King.
King: Hello, Jason. What are you doing here?
Jason: Good my father, I have news for you.
King: What news, my son?
Jason: Sir, my mother the Queen plots with Sir Flavius against you, and there is hanky-panky between them. Also I have found Juliet. She is in Hugo’s castle.
King: Can this be so indeed?
Jason: In troth it is. And Sebastian is there also, but he cannot rescue her on his own.
King: Ah, my good son! What should I do now?
Jason: I think you should make all haste to Hugo’s castle, with troops and reinforcements. We’ll annihilate them.
King: And so shall I do. But make you your way to Sir Flavius and tell him he is to go also to Hugo’s castle, and he should escort your mother there. We shall bring all this out into the open and have a proper talk about it.
Jason: And then I shall ride also to Hugo’s castle.
King: Just so, my fair true son.
ACT SIX
The garden in Hugo’s castle. Juliet is still in the tree house and still guarded by the two evil spirits. Hugo is pacing around the garden. Sebastian is hiding in the bushes and hasn’t yet been seen.
Juliet: Hugo, I am sure you are a good man withal.
Hugo: I try to be good. But sometimes a madness comes over me.
Juliet: Well, that can happen to anybody. The thing to do is to strive against it.
Sebastian leaps from the bushes, brandishing his sword.
Sebastian: Hold, dastard miscreant!
Juliet: Oh, Sebastian!
Sebastian: Stand, villain, or I shall run you through.
Hugo: Who are you?
Sebastian: I am but a nobody, yet here I stand for the fair Juliet.
The sound of trumpets. The King marches in with Jason and soldiers. Two soldiers go to Sebastian’s aid and capture Hugo.
King: My daughter! It is good to see you safe and well. How are you?
Juliet: Good father, I am well, but although Sebastian has started to rescue me I am still held captive by these evil spirits.
King: Yes, I can see that. How can we free you?
Juliet: I know not.
More trumpets, and Sir Flavius and the Queen enter together.
Sir Flavius: Ah, Princess Juliet, how glad I am to see you. How wonderful that you have been discovered!
Juliet: You are a liar, sir. I know that you knew I was here. My good father, you must read him the riot act.
King: Did you know?
Sir Flavius: Of course not.
Juliet: I denounce you. My father, some little time before, this Sir Flavius came and told Hugo that he had been appointed the leader of the search party to find me, and he made sport thereof and mocked me. He knew I was here, my word he did.
King: Sir Flavius, can this be true?
Sir Flavius: She is making it up, my liege.
King: So you undertook the charge I gave you with no true good intent?
Sir Flavius: I knew Juliet was safe. Hugo wasn’t going to hurt her.
King: That’s not the point. And moreover I have further charges to lay against you.
Sir Flavius: Well, I don’t know what they can be.
King: Madam Queen my wife.
Queen: Yes?
King: I have it on good authority that you are involved in a dastardly plot to kill me.
Queen: No, my good lord!
King: Sir Flavius. What say you?
Sir Flavius: It’s ridiculous.
King: Prince Jason, tell us what you know.
Jason: I heard my mother the Queen and Sir Flavius together, and they talked about you, my liege, and Sir Flavius said that if you were dead he would be king in your place, and my mother the Queen did agree. And they were amorous together.
King: What say you, my lady?
Queen: Oh, I am terribly sorry.
Sir Flavius: I am sorry too.
King: And so, Jason, what do you think I should do with these twain?
Jason: They have brought us into disrepute. They must be beheaded forthwith.
King: Take them away.
The soldiers arrest the Queen and Sir Flavius and lead them away.
Juliet: Father, I am still trapped here.
Jason: My lord, let me essay to free my sister.
King: Jason, do your utmost.
Jason: Wombat Ghost, you who float up there, listen to me.
Jason brings out his magic phial, opens it and takes a sip.
Jason: Now begone, you foul Wombat Ghost!
The Wombat Ghost dissolves into thin air.
King: Is this not wonderful?
Jason: And now, Tree Man, descend from your height and enter into honest fight with me.
Jason draws his dagger from its jewelled sheath. Tree Man climbs down and he and Jason circle each other, Tree Man with his tomahawk and Jason with his dagger. Jason smites Tree Man a couple of times and then stabs him to the heart. Tree Man falls down dead.
King: My son, you have defeated the evil spirits and saved your sister. Dear daughter, you can come down now.
Sebastian: I’ll help you.
Sebastian helps Juliet down.
Juliet: Thank you, Sebastian. Thank you, Jason, my dear and gallant brother. In you does knighthood flourish.
King: And now to decide what punishment we should inflict on Hugo for his perfidy. What think you, Jason?
Jason: I do not think Hugo is a bad man. I think you should punish him, but not kill him. Why not take his castle and give it to Sebastian?
King: Upon my word, my son, you are a true, wise and tenderhearted prince, and I regret that ever I doubted you. You have really got what it takes.
Jason: Thank you, sire. It is a red-letter day.
King: Let us now return to our castle.
Juliet: Sebastian and I will stay here.
King: Farewell, my daughter. Come, Jason, my princely son.
The King and Jason mount their horses and exit, returning to the King’s court, their courtiers and soldiers following them, their bridles flashing in the sun and jingling in tune with their merry laughter and songs.
EPILOGUE
I’d suggested a quiet city bar. I got there before Rose, and chose a corner table. When she arrived I ordered wine for both of us, and a bowl of smoked almonds.
‘What a treat,’ she
said, slipping her jacket off. She was wearing a black dress underneath—tailored, smart.
‘Were you working today?’
‘I work most days.’
‘In that?’
‘I went home to change first. I didn’t want to disgrace you.’
She sat down and I stared at her. I saw the fine networks on her soft skin, at the corners of her eyes, around her lips, down her neck. I couldn’t look at her, with her cropped silver hair and her tired mouth, without thinking of what she had been when that golden richness had tumbled down her back. I wondered if she still had the same tangy smell.
She took a sip of her wine. ‘How are you all, Nicky? How’s Pippa?’
‘Pippa’s good,’ I said. ‘Happy marriage, nice husband, two kids.’
‘Career?’
‘Social worker.’
‘That’s tough.’
‘I guess so. But Pippa’s fine with that.’
‘I was a good friend to Pippa.’
‘I know you were,’ I said. ‘She told me.’
‘And your dad?’
‘Holding his own.’
‘Still footy-mad?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Do you ever go with him?’
‘Whenever I can.’
‘I thought of him in ’86. And later on in the eighties. Hawthorn had some good wins in those days. How many? Three or four premierships?’
‘Four. ’86, ’88, ’89, ’91. I was there with him for them.’
‘And recently, too.’
‘Yes, they’ve had a good run.’
Rose chose a smoked almond. ‘And you’re not married?’
‘No.’
‘And your mum, Nicky? Did she come back?’
‘No,’ I said. It was strange to be called Nicky again. These days everyone calls me Nicholas. Not Dad or Pippa, but everyone else.
‘Not ever?’
‘She and Ben moved to Queensland,’ I said. ‘They lived there for a while. Mum died about twenty years ago. Breast cancer.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She sighed. ‘Did you visit her? In Queensland?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘Poor Nicky. It must have had a dreadful effect on you and Pip, her leaving you.’
‘We got through.’
‘Did it scar you?’
I was startled. ‘Good heavens, no.’
Rose peered at me sceptically. ‘No? Your mother left you. She betrayed you, Nicky. And you’re saying it had no effect on you? Are you sure?’
I couldn’t stop myself. ‘You betrayed me, too.’
She didn’t like that. ‘Your plays are full of it, you know.’
‘Full of what?’
‘Sadness. Betrayal, infidelity, death. Love, losing love. Loneliness.’
‘I like to think there’s more to them than that,’ I said, stung.
‘Oh, yes, I know. Black comedy, and all that scintillating dialogue. Very wonderful, I know. You’ve done so well. But really, Nicky, so sad, your plays. Always such sadness beneath it all.’
‘I don’t think of them as sad plays,’ I said.
She took another almond and nibbled it. Her hands were ring-less and no longer pretty and smooth: they had small liver spots, and the finger joints were slightly swollen.
‘Tell me, did you ever put me in one of your plays?’
‘No,’ I lied.
‘Oh. I thought perhaps Julia in The Magpie Stew?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘Or Charlotte in Therapy?’
‘No.’
She smiled, teasingly. ‘Oh, I’m disappointed, you know. I thought I might be your muse.’
‘No.’
‘Okay,’ Rose said.
‘Can we talk about 1985?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Why did you leave?’
‘Dan didn’t talk about it to you?’
‘Not to me, no, of course not. I was eight, Rose.’
‘I thought he might have talked to Frank.’
‘No. At least, Dad never told me. And Grandpa died, about fifteen years ago.’
‘I know,’ said Rose, unexpectedly. ‘I came to the funeral. I saw the notice in the paper.’
I was astonished. ‘I didn’t see you there.’
‘I sat in the very back of the church, and I slipped out before the end. I didn’t want to see anyone.’
‘Why did you come?’
‘I loved him, Nicky. Is it so hard to understand?’
‘If you loved him, why did you leave?’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘I presume you do remember the last time we met?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Vividly. You wrecked my jigsaw.’
Immediately I wished the words unsaid, as Rose’s lip curved satirically. ‘Dear me. That still rankles?’
‘As I said, I was eight. At the time, yes, it hurt.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, Nicky. In the scheme of things, to me it didn’t seem that important.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘So go on. The last time we met.’
‘You remember that Jenny made a number of unpleasant accusations against me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, then. Obviously Dan and I had to discuss those accusations. We quarrelled.’
I waited, but she said nothing more. I looked at her and saw that her eyes were wet.
‘Rose,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. This is too important for me to let go of it.’
‘It brings it all back,’ she said.
‘It’s what I’ve never known. It’s what I’ve never understood. Don’t you see?—I have to know.’
‘You make it sound so simple. As if there’s a straightforward fact or two, and all I have to do is tell you. Life’s far more complicated than that. I thought you realised that, Nicky.’
‘Think about it,’ I said. ‘I’m eight, right? One day we’re great friends and you’re in a relationship with my grandfather and looking as if you’re going to be part of my family. Then you disappear without trace and I never see you again. You don’t contact me, you don’t say goodbye, you don’t explain what’s happened. Maybe it isn’t reducible to a simple fact or two, but there’s a gap, isn’t there? Do you think you owe me nothing?’
‘I’m sorry, Nicky. But it wasn’t about you.’
For a moment I could hardly speak. Then I managed, ‘For me, it was about me.’
‘You were such a funny little boy,’ she said, absently.
‘Can’t you explain it? You said you and Grandpa had a quarrel. It must have been about the things my mother said.’
Some of the energy went out of her and she looked at me listlessly. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Oh, yes, that’s what it was about.’
‘So?’
‘How about another drink?’
I got us each another drink. I put hers in front of her, sat down, and looked at her. She had regained some composure.
‘I thought we could be friends, Nicky. I thought that might be why you wanted to meet me, to recover what we once had.’
‘What we once had?’
‘Yes, I like to think it was important, what we had.’
She stretched her hand out to me. I didn’t take it. ‘It might have been. But you walked out on it.’
‘I didn’t walk out on you.’
‘It felt like it.’
‘It was so hard!’ she wailed.
‘Then explain it to me. Rose, I need to understand. My mother attacked you. Then what?’
She steepled her fingers, gathered her thoughts. ‘So. The things your mother said—her attack—well, it came right out of the blue. Of course I knew your mother didn’t like me, but accusing me of killing Didie—well. I never expected that.’
‘Because it wasn’t true?’
She stroked the stem of her glass. ‘Nicky, do you know much about morphine?’
‘I don’t suppose so. Only what everybody knows.’
‘Well, one of the things you have to remember about morph
ine is that it’s terribly hard to estimate dosage. On the one hand it’s very powerful and on the other hand sometimes there are people who don’t appear to be affected much by it. It’s tricky. I’ve seen doctors give what they think will be a knockout dose and find it isn’t enough; I’ve seen doctors try only to relieve pain and find they’ve gone too far. You have to be awfully careful.’
‘But Didie wasn’t taking morphine,’ I said. ‘Didie said she didn’t want morphine.’
‘When people are dying they don’t always behave the way you expect them to behave. Early in the piece it’s true, Didie said she didn’t want morphine. But when the pain got bad she changed her mind. Lots of people do that. I was a palliative care nurse for a long time. I’m used to seeing people change their minds when they’re dying.’
‘But didn’t Grandpa know about it?’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘But she didn’t tell my mother?’
‘No.’
‘Didie told my mother everything.’
‘I’m sure that’s what your mother thought. And maybe it was once true. But when I was there, Didie wasn’t close to Jenny. Not really.’
I tried again. ‘My mother thought they were still close.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Rose. ‘Anyway, the thing was, once your mother had said all the things she said, it was like—well, it was like an earthquake. It changed everything between Dan and me. Everything.’
‘So what my mother said was true?’
She leaned forward. ‘Ovarian cancer is dreadful: the pain gets worse and still worse, until people simply can’t bear it. She didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want people feeling sorry for her. I told you, people change when they’re dying. She became secretive. She wanted it to be our secret, the morphine. She would say to me, Give me some of the good stuff, Rosie. When nobody was around, only me.’
‘And nobody else knew?’ I was struggling.
‘The doctor knew. Dan knew. She didn’t want anyone else to know.’
‘Was she dependent on it?’
‘Morphine’s highly addictive. If you’re dying, that’s not something that worries you.’
‘So you gave it to her a lot?’
‘I gave it to her when she needed it.’
‘Did Grandpa always know when you gave it to her?’
‘No,’ said Rose.
‘Why not?’
‘Well, he wasn’t always there. And Didie didn’t always want him to know.’
The Starlings Page 28