Brian Friel Plays 1 (15 page)

Read Brian Friel Plays 1 Online

Authors: Brian Friel

BOOK: Brian Friel Plays 1
2.1Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

PRIVATE
:
What – what – what’s that? (
Relaxing.
)
Madge probably. Looking to see is the door bolted.

(
PUBLIC
gets
out
of
bed
and
switches
on
the
light.
Looks
at
his
watch.
)

You’ll not sleep again tonight, laddo.

PUBLIC
:
Bugger.

(
PUBLIC
looks
at
himself
in
the
mirror
and
then
sits
on
edge
of
bed.
)

PRIVATE
:
Four more hours. This is the last time you’ll lie in this bed, the last time you’ll look at that pattern on the wallpaper, the last time you’ll listen to the silence of Ballybeg, the last time you’ll –

PUBLIC
:
Agh, shut up!

PRIVATE
:
It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of France. Go into the shop, man, and get yourself a packet of aspirin; that’ll do the trick. (
Looking
up
at
ceiling.
) Mind if I take a packet of aspirin, Screwballs? Send the bill to the USA, okay? Out you go, boy, and get a clatter of pills!

(
They
both
go
into
the
kitchen.
PUBLIC
stops
dead
when
he
sees
S.B
.
staring
at
him.
)

PUBLIC
:
My God! Lady Godiva!

PRIVATE
:
Is this where you are?

S.B
.:
Aye – I – I – I – I wasn’t sleeping. What has you up?

(
PUBLIC
goes
to
where
the
key
of
the
shop
is
hung
up.
)

PUBLIC
:
I – I wasn’t sleeping either. I’ll get some aspirins inside.

S.B
.:
It’s hard to sleep sometimes …

PUBLIC
:
It is, aye … sometimes …

S.B
.:
There’s tea in the pot.

PUBLIC
:
Aye?

S.B.
:
If it’s a headache you have.

PUBLIC
:
It’ll make me no worse anyway.

(
PUBLIC
goes
into
the
scullery.
PRIVATE
stands
at
the
door
and
talks
into
him.
)

PRIVATE
:
Now’s your time, boy. The small hours of the morning. Put your head on his shoulder and say, ‘How’s my wee darling Daddy?’

(
PUBLIC
puts
his
head
round
the
door.
)

PUBLIC
:
You take some?

S.B
.:
Sure you know I never take a second cup.

PRIVATE
:
Playing hard to get. Come on, bucko; it’s your place to make the move – the younger man. Say – say – say – say, ‘Screwballs, with two magnificent legs like that, how is it you were never in show biz?’ Say, ‘It is now sixteen or seventeen – Say – oh, my God – say – say something.

(
PUBLIC
enters
with
a
cup
of
tea.
)

PUBLIC
:
You’ll need a new tyre for the van.

S.B
.:
What one’s that?

PUBLIC
:
The back left-hand one. I told you. It’s done.

S.B.
:
Aye. So you did.

PUBLIC
:
And – and –

PRIVATE
:
What else?

PUBLIC
:
 – and don’t forget the fencing posts for McGuire next Wednesday.

S.B
.:
Fencing posts.

PUBLIC
:
Twelve dozen. The milk lorry’ll take them. I spoke to Packey.

S.B
.:
Aye … right …

PRIVATE
:
Go on! Keep talking!

PUBLIC
:
And if you’re looking for the pliers, I threw them into
the tea chest under the counter.

S.B.
:
Which tea chest?

PUBLIC
:
The one near the window.

S.B.
:
Oh, I see – I see …

PRIVATE
:
You’re doing grand. Keep at it. It’s the silence that’s the enemy.

PUBLIC
:
You’ll be wanting more plug tobacco. The traveller’ll be here this week.

S.B.
:
More plug.

PUBLIC
:
It’s finished. The last of it went up to Curran’s wake.

S.B.
:
I’ll – I’ll see about that.

PUBLIC
:
And you’ll need to put a new clasp on the lower window – the tinkers are about again.

S.B.
:
Aye?

PUBLIC
:
They were in at dinner time. I got some cans off them.

S.B.
:
I just thought I noticed something shining from the ceiling.

PUBLIC
:
It’s the cans then.

S.B.
:
Aye.

PUBLIC
:
That’s what it is. I bought six off them.

S.B.
:
They’ll not go to loss.

PUBLIC
:
They wanted me to take a dozen but I said six would do us.

S.B.
:
Six is plenty. They don’t go as quick as they used to – them cans.

PUBLIC
:
They’ve all got cookers and ranges and things.

S.B.
:
What’s that?

PUBLIC
:
I say they don’t buy them now because the open fires are nearly all gone.

S.B.
:
That’s it. All cookers and ranges and things these times.

PUBLIC
:
That’s why I wouldn’t take the dozen.

S.B.
:
You were right, too. Although I mind the time when I got through a couple of dozen a week.

PUBLIC
:
Aye?

S.B.
:
All cans it was then. Maybe you’d sell a kettle at
turf-cutting
or if there’d be a Yank coming home …

(
Pause.
)

PUBLIC
:
Better get these pills and then try to get a couple of hours sleep –

S.B.
:
You’re getting the mail-van to Strabane?

(
PUBLIC
gives
him
a
quick
,
watchful
look.
)

PUBLIC
:
At a quarter past seven.

S.B.
:
(
Awkwardly
) I was listening to the weather forecast there … moderate westerly winds and occasional showers, it said.

PUBLIC
:
Aye?

S.B.
:
I was thinking it – it – it – it would be a fair enough day for going up in thon plane.

PUBLIC
:
It should be, then.

S.B.
:
Showers – just like the Canon said … And I was meaning to tell you that you should sit at the back …

PRIVATE
:
It is now sixteen or seventeen years – the longest way round’s the shortest way home –

S.B.
:
So
he
was saying, too … you know there – if there was an accident or anything – it’s the front gets it hardest –

PUBLIC
:
I suppose that’s true enough.

S.B.
:
So
he
was saying … not that I would know – just that he was saying it there …

PRIVATE
:
(
Urgently,
rapidly
) Now! Now! He might remember – he might. But if he does, my God, laddo – what if he does?

PUBLIC
:
(
With
pretended
carelessness
) D’you know what kept coming into my mind the day?

S.B.
:
Eh?

PUBLIC
:
The fishing we used to do on Lough na Cloc Cor.

S.B.
:
(
Confused,
an
guard
) Oh, aye, Lough na Cloc Cor – aye – aye –

PUBLIC
:
We had a throw on it every Sunday during the season.

S.B.
:
That’s not the day nor yesterday.

PUBLIC
:
(
More
quickly
) There used to be a blue boat on it – d’you remember it?

S.B.
: Many’s the fish we took off that same lake.

PUBLIC
:
D’you remember the blue boat?

S.B.
:
A blue one, eh?

PUBLIC
:
I don’t know who owned it. But it was blue. And the paint was peeling.

S.B.
:
(
Remembering
) I mind a brown one the doctor brought from somewhere up in the –

PUBLIC
:
(
Quickly
) It doesn’t matter who owned it. It doesn’t even matter that it was blue. But d’you remember one afternoon in May – we were up there – the two of us – and it must have rained because you put your jacket round my shoulders and gave me your hat –

S.B.
:
Aye?

PUBLIC
:
– and it wasn’t that we were talking or anything – but suddenly – suddenly you sang ‘All Round My Hat I’ll Wear a Green Coloured Ribbono’ –

S.B.
:
Me?

PUBLIC
:
– for no reason at all except that we – that you were happy. D’you remember? D’you remember?

(
There
is
a
pause
while
S.B.
tries
to
recall.
)

S.B.
:
No … no, then, I don’t …

(
PRIVATE
claps
his
hands
in
nervous
mockery.
)

PRIVATE
:
(
Quickly
) There! There! There!

S.B.
:
‘All Round My Hat’? No, I don’t think I ever knew that one. It wasn’t ‘The Flower of Sweet Strabane’, was it? That was my song.

PUBLIC
:
It could have been. It doesn’t matter.

PRIVATE
:
So now you know: it never happened! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.

S.B.
:
‘All Round My Hat’? – that was never one of mine. What does it go like?

PUBLIC
:
I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know it either.

PRIVATE
:
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.

S.B.
:
And you say the boat was blue?

PUBLIC
:
It doesn’t matter. Forget it.

S.B.
:
(
Justly,
reasonably
)
There was a brown one belonging to the doctor, and before that there was a wee flat-bottom – but it was green – or was it white? I’ll tell you, you wouldn’t be thinking of a punt – it could have been blue – one that the curate had down at the pier last summer –

(
PRIVATE

s
mocking
laughter
increases.
PUBLIC
rushes
quickly
into
the
shop.
PRIVATE
,
still
mocking,
follows.
)

– a fine sturdy wee punt it was, too, and it could well have been the …

(
He
sees
that
he
is
alone
and
tails
off.
Slowly
he
gets
to
his
feet
and
goes
towards
the
scullery
door.
He
meets 
MADGE
entering.
She
is
dressed
in
outside
clothes.
She
is
very
weary.
)

MADGE
:
What has you up?

S.B.
:
Me? Aw, I took medicine and the cramps wouldn’t let me sleep. I thought you were in bed?

MADGE
:
I was over at Nelly’s. The place was upside down.

S.B.
:
There’s nothing wrong, is there?

MADGE
:
Not a thing.

S.B.
:
The baby’s strong and healthy?

MADGE
:
Grand – grand.

S.B.
:
That’s all that matters.

Other books

Razumov's Tomb by Darius Hinks
The Singles by Emily Snow
Death on a Galician Shore by Villar, Domingo
The Prince's Pet by Wiles, Alexia
Goose Chase by Patrice Kindl
The Wild Inside by Christine Carbo
Miral by Rula Jebreal