Brian Friel Plays 1 (20 page)

(
He
disappears.
The
PRESSMEN
hurry
off.
MICHAEL
gets
to
his feet.
)

MICHAEL
:
It was a big turn-out, wasn’t it?

LILY
:
Terrible big.

MICHAEL
:
And the speeches were good, too.

LILY
:
I don’t care much for speeches. Isn’t that a shocking thing to say? I can’t concentrate – you know?

MICHAEL
:
They’ll never learn, you know; never. All they had to do was sit back nice and quiet; let the speeches be made; let the crowd go home. There wouldn’t be no trouble of any kind. But they have to bull in. And d’you know what they’re doing? As a matter of fact they’re doing two things: they’re bringing more and more people out on the streets – that’s fine; but they’re also giving the hooligan element an excuse to retaliate – and that’s where the danger lies.

LILY
:
(
To
SKINNER
) It’s a hot whiskey you should be drinking.

MICHAEL
:
I’ve been on every civil rights march from the very beginning – right from October 5th. And I can tell you there wasn’t the thousands then that there was the day. I’ve even went on civil rights marches that I was far from satisfied about the people that was running them; for as you know as well as me there’s a lot of strange characters knuckled in on the act that didn’t give a shite about real civil rights – if you’ll excuse me, Missus.

LILY
:
Port wine’s gorgeous.

MICHAEL
:
But as I say to Norah, the main thing is to keep a united front. The ultimate objectives we’re all striving for is more important than the personalities or the politics of the individuals concerned.

SKINNER
:
At this point in time.

MICHAEL
:
What’s that?

SKINNER
:
And taking full cognizance of all relative facts.

MICHAEL
:
What d’you mean?

LILY
:
Who’s Norah, young fella?

MICHAEL
:
The girl I’m engaged to.

LILY
:
(
To
SKINNER
) Ah! He’s engaged.

(
SKINNER
raises
his
glass.
)

LILY
:
Congratulations.

MICHAEL
:
Thanks.

LILY
:
I wish you health, wealth and every happiness, young fella, and may no burden come your way that you’re not fit to carry.

MICHAEL
:
Thank you.

LILY
:
When are you getting married?

MICHAEL
:
Easter.

LILY
:
(
To
SKINNER
) Easter! I was married at Easter – April 3rd – my seventeenth birthday. And we spent our honeymoon with the chairman’s Auntie Maggie and Uncle Ned in Preston, Lancashire, England, and we seen the docks and everything.

MICHAEL
:
We’re getting married on Easter Tuesday.

LILY
:
And where will you live?

MICHAEL
:
We’ll live with my people till we get a place of our own.

LILY
:
(
To
SKINNER
) A place of their own!

SKINNER
:
Leely, the language I speak a leetle too – yes?

LILY
:
Norah’s a nice name. If the chairman had have had his way, we’d have had a Norah. But I always favoured a Noelle. She’s fourteen now. Between Tom and the twins. Born on a roasting August bank holiday Monday at 3.20 in the afternoon but I called her Noelle all the same.

MICHAEL
:
(
To
SKINNER
) How many would you say was there today?

SKINNER
:
No idea.

MICHAEL
:
Six thousand? More?

(
SKINNER
shrugs
indifferently.
Rises
and
goes
to
the
window
where
he
looks
out.
LILY
takes
off
her
shoes.
)

MICHAEL
:
I’m getting pretty accurate at assessing a crowd and my estimate would be between six and six and a half. When the ones at the front were down at the Brandywell, the last of them were leaving the Creggan. I could see both ways ’cos I was in the middle. And the hooligan element kept well out of the way. It was a good, disciplined, responsible march. And that’s what we must show them – that we’re responsible and respectable; and they’ll come to respect
what we’re campaigning for.

LILY
:
D’you see them shoes? Five pounds in Woolworth’s and never a day’s content since I got them.

MICHAEL
:
Do you go on all the marches, Lily?

LILY
:
Most of them, It’s the only exercise I get.

MICHAEL
:
Do you have the feeling they’re not as – I don’t know – as dignified as they used to be? Like, d’you remember in the early days, they wouldn’t let you carry a placard – wouldn’t even let you talk, for God’s sake. And that was really impressive – all those people marching along in silence, rich and poor, high and low, doctors, accountants, plumbers, teachers, bricklayers – all shoulder to shoulder – knowing that what they wanted was their rights and knowing that because it was their rights nothing in the world was going to stop them getting them.

SKINNER
:
Shite – if you’ll excuse me, Missus. Who’s for more municipal booze?

(
He
refills
his
own
glass
and
LILY
’
s
.)

MICHAEL
:
What do you mean?

LILY
:
That’s enough. Easy – easy.

SKINNER
:
It’s coming off a fine broad back. Another whiskey, Mr Hegarty?

MICHAEL
:
Are you for civil rights at all?

SKINNER
:
Course I am. I’m crazy about them. A little drop?

MICHAEL
:
Not for me.

SKINNER
:
Just a nip?

MICHAEL
:
I’m finished.

SKINNER
:
Have a cigar.

MICHAEL
:
No.

SKINNER
:
A cigarette, then.

MICHAEL
:
No.

SKINNER
:
Or what about a shower under the golden fish?

(
LILY
gives
a
great
whoop
of
laughter.
)

LILY
:
Haaaaa! A shower! God but you’re a comic, young fella.

(
SKINNER
lights
a
cigar
and
carries
his
glass
to
the
phone.
)

MICHAEL
:
I see nothing funny in that.

LILY
:
D’you see if it was a Sunday I’d take a shower myself. Sunday’s my day. We all have our days for bathing over at the granny’s – that’s the chairman’s mother. She has us all up on a time-table on the kitchen wall, and if you miss your night you lose your turn.

SKINNER
:
(
Phone
) Hello? Could you tell me what won the 3.30?

LILY
:
(To
MICHAEL
) D’you see the granny, young fella? Seventy-seven years of age. Lives alone. Supple as an aul cat. Her own teeth, her own eyes. And she still does twenty houses a week – you know – cleaning them down; and me that could be her daughter, I can never manage more nor fifteen.

(
SKINNER
hangs
up.
)

SKINNER
:
Bingo Mistress at eights. Which leaves me slightly ahead of the millionaire bookie.

LILY
:
I’d know by the look of you.

(
SKINNER
dials
again
.
LILY
continues
to
MICHAEL
.)

LILY
:
Most of them she’s been doing for years, and they think the world of her; you know – dentists and solicitors and doctors and all. Very swanky. And the wanes in them houses – they visit her and all – they have a sort of pet name on her – they call her Auntie Dodie. Wouldn’t it make you puke? I’ll tell you something, young fella: them class of people’s a very poor judge of character.

SKINNER
:
(
Phone
) Jackie? Yes, it’s me. No, as a matter of fact I’m stripped to the waist and drinking brandy in the Mayor’s parlour. (
To
LILY
and
MICHAEL
) He’s killing himself laughing! (
Into
phone
) Look, Jack, would you put half-a-note on Bunny Rabbit in the 4.30? Decent man. See you tonight. Bye.

LILY
:
I’m glad you’ve a nice cushy career.

SKINNER
:
It’s not all sunshine, Lily.

LILY
:
D’you bet heavy?

SKINNER
:
When I have it.

LILY
:
That’ll be often. What do they call you, young fella?

SKINNER
:
Skinner.

LILY
:
Mr Skinner or Skinner what?

SKINNER
:
Just Skinner.

LILY
:
Would you be anything to Paddy Skinner that used to keep the goats behind the Mormon chapel?

SKINNER
:
Both my parents died when I was a baby. I was reared by an aunt. Next question?

LILY
:
Lord, I’m
sorry, son. (
To
MICHAEL
) Both his parents! Shocking. ‘Life is not a bed of roses. Sorrow is our daily lot.’ (
Suddenly
bright
)
But I’ll bet you’re musical like all the others.

SKINNER
:
Who?

LILY
:
Sure it’s well known that all wee orphans is always musical. Orphans can play instruments before they can talk. There was the poor wee Mulherns opposite us – the father and mother both submitted to TB within three days of other – and when you’d pass that house at night – the music coming out of it – honest to God you’d think it was the Palais de Danse. And sure look at the Nazareth House Ceilidhe Band – thumping away at concerts all over the world – trained armies couldn’t stop them. Sure the poor nuns can’t get quiet to say their prayers.

(
SKINNER
turns
on
the
radio.
)

SKINNER
:
I can play the radio, Lily.

(
Waltz
music
on
the
radio.
)

LILY
:
What’s that?

SKINNER
:
Four ways – loud and soft and off and on. Can you?

LILY
:
Oh, you’re great.

SKINNER
:
And I play the horses and the dogs.

LILY
:
You’re brilliant.

SKINNER
:
Thanks.

LILY
:
Are you working?

SKINNER
:
No.

LILY
:
Did you ever work?

SKINNER
:
For a while when I was at grammar school – before they kicked me out.

LILY
:
What did you ever do since?

SKINNER
:
Three years ago I did some potato picking.

LILY
:
(
To
MICHAEL
) He has a long memory.

SKINNER
:
And last August I was a conductor on the buses.

LILY
:
But travel didn’t agree with you.

SKINNER
:
Listen, Lily – isn’t that the BBC Orphans’ Orchestra?

LILY
:
I’ll tell you something – you never had to study glibness. Oh, nothing sharpens the wits like idleness. (
To
MICHAEL
.) You stick to your books, son. That’s what I say to our boys.

SKINNER
:
I’ll bet you the chairman’s glib, Lily.

LILY
:
The chairman never worked on account of his health.

(
SKINNER
sings
with
the
radio
and
does
a
parody-waltz
off
and
into
the
dressing-room.
)

SKINNER
:
1 – 2 – 3; 1 – 2 – 3; 1 – 2 – 3; 1 – 2 – 3.

LILY
:
(
Calls
) And he has more brains than you and a dozen like you put together! Brat! Put that thing out!