Brian Friel Plays 1 (44 page)

EAMON:
Casimir pretending he’s calling Helga the Hun. All a game. All a fiction.

ALICE:
Oh shut up!

EAMON:
No one has ever seen her. We’re convinced he’s invented her.

(
TOM
laughs
uncertainly.
)

TOM:
Is he serious, Claire?

EAMON:
And the three boys – Herbert, Hans and Heinrich. And the dachshund bitch called Dietrich. And his job in the sausage factory. It has the authentic ring of phoney fiction, hasn’t it?

CLAIRE:
Don’t listen to him, Tom.

(
ALICE
has
come
down
from
the
gazebo
to
fill
her
glass.
)

ALICE:
What’s your phoney fiction?

EAMON:
That I’m a laughing broth of an Irish boy. (
To
TOM
) What was the word you used a few minutes ago – that yoke in there – what did you call it? A baby
–
?

TOM:
Baby-alarm.

EAMON:
That’s it – baby-alarm.

TOM:
You place a small microphone above a baby’s cot so that if it cries
–

EAMON:
I know – I know how it works. No practical experience of course – have we, love? Just that I find the name curious. Good luck. Yes, I suppose baby-alarm has an aptness in the circumstances. But there’s another word – what’s the name I’m looking for? – what do you call the peep-hole in a prison door? Judas hole! That’s it. Would that be more appropriate? But then we’d have to decide who’s spying on whom, wouldn’t we? No; let’s keep baby-alarm. Gentler. (
Laughs.
)
‘Baby-alarm’
–
yes, I like baby-alarm. (
To
ALICE
) Shouldn’t you go easy on that?

ALICE:
Shut up.

EAMON:
(
To
TOM
) Less than twenty-four hours away from temperate London and already we’re reverting to drunken Paddies. Must be the environment, mustn’t it? Man-a-dear but that’s a powerful aul’ lump of a summer’s day.

(
TOM
is
looking
at
his
notes.
ALICE
has
gone
back
to
the
gazebo.
EAMON
crosses
to
CLAIRE
who
is
sewing
and
sits
beside
her.
He
puts
his
arm
round
her.
)

EAMON:
I’m talking too much, amn’t I? (
Pause.
)
I always talk too much in this house, don’t I? Is it because I’m still intimidated by it? (
Pause.
)
And this was always a house of reticence, of things unspoken, wasn’t it?

(
She
looks
at
him
and
smiles.
He
touches
her
chin.
)

Keep your peace, little wise one. (
He
removes
his
arm
from
round
her.
)
Judith tells me I’m proposing the toast to the groom’s family.

CLAIRE:
You know Jerry, don’t you?

EAMON:
Not very well. He was that bit older. (
Aware
)
Well
–
a few years
–
and when you’re young it seems a lot.

(
She
takes
his
glass
and
drinks.
)

Hey! What about those pills?

CLAIRE:
I haven’t taken today’s yet.

EAMON:
Why not?

CLAIRE:
You know his sister, Ellen?

EAMON:
Yes.

CLAIRE:
Do you like her?

EAMON:
Ellen has her own ways.

CLAIRE:
She’ll be living in the house with Jerry and me.

EAMON:
For a while, maybe. Ellen’ll marry and move out.

CLAIRE:
No, she won’t move out. And she won’t marry now
–
she’s almost fifty-four
–
she’s only a year younger than Jerry. And the house is hers. And yesterday she said to me that she’ll carry on as usual
–
doing the cooking and the housework. So I’ll have nothing to do. A life of leisure. Maybe take the children for walks
–
she suggested that. But that’s all. The whole day idle. And he’s getting me a car next Christmas so that I won’t even have to walk. Next time you’re back I’ll have put on ten stone!

EAMON:
I thought Jerry would want a working wife?

CLAIRE:
Oh, yes. He’s buying a piano so that I can teach the children to play. Maybe one of them will become a concert pianist?

(
She
gets
up
and
moves
across
the
lawn.
)

EAMON:
What the hell’s keeping Casimir with the grub?

(
He
rises
and
pours
himself
another
drink.
)

EAMON:
God bless Willie Diver. Did you know I was his best man? My God,
that
was a wedding. I was seventeen, Willie was eighteen, and Nora Sheridan, known locally as Nora the Nun
–
for reasons of Irish irony, Professor
–
Nora was thirty if she was a day. And at seventeen I thought: My God, lucky aul’ Slooghter, marrying the village pro, my God he’ll be getting it morning, noon and night and what more could a man want! But of course the marriage lasted five months and the brave Nora cleared off with a British soldier stationed in Derry and was never seen again and aul’ Willie was back with the rest of us hoping to get it maybe once a year on St Patrick’s night with big Tessie Mulligan if you promised to take her and her twin sister to the pig co-op dance. Isn’t life full of tiny frustrations, Professor? And how’s the research going?

TOM:
Satisfactorily.

EAMON:
Are you writing a book?

TOM:
Eventually.

EAMON:
About?

TOM:
I’m not going to bore you with my theories.

EAMON:
Please. (
To
ALICE
) We’re captivated
–
aren’t we, love?

TOM:
Alice is not captivated.

EAMON:
Alice reveals her passion in oblique ways.

TOM:
I’d really rather not
–

EAMON:
But I’m interested; I’m genuinely interested. Please.

TOM:
Well, when we talk about the big house in this country, we usually mean the Protestant big house with its Anglo-Irish tradition and culture; and the distinction is properly made between that tradition and culture and what we might call the native Irish tradition and culture which is Roman Catholic.

EAMON:
With reservations – yes. So?

TOM:
So what I’m researching is the life and the life-style of the Roman Catholic big house – by no means as thick on the ground but still there; what we might call a Roman Catholic aristocracy – for want of a better term.

EAMON:
No, no, it’s a good term; I like the term. The Professor’s talking about you, love!

TOM:
And the task I’ve set myself is to explore its political, cultural and economic influence both on the ascendancy ruling class and on the native peasant tradition. Over the past one hundred and fifty years – in fact since Catholic emancipation – what political clout did they wield, what economic contribution did they make to the status of their co-religionists, what cultural effect did they have on the local peasantry?

EAMON:
The Professor’s talking about me, love! And Ballybeg Hall’s your prototype?

TOM:
No, just one example.

EAMON:
And what conclusions have you reached?

TOM:
None yet, Eamon. I’m still digging.

EAMON:
Ah. Let’s see can we help the Professor. What were the questions again? What political clout did they wield?

(
Considers.
Then
sadly
shakes
his
head.
)
What economic help were they to their co-religionists? (
Considers.
Then
sadly
shakes
his
head.
)
What cultural effect did they have on the local peasantry? Alice? (
Considers.
Then
sadly
shakes
his
head
.)
We agree, I’m afraid. Sorry, Professor. Bogus thesis.
No book.

TOM:
Okay. So no book.

EAMON:
But you’ll go ahead all the same, won’t you?

TOM:
I may well be so obtuse.

(
CASIMIR
enters
the
study,
carrying
a
large
tray.
As
he
crosses
towards
the
lawn
he
chants:
)

CASIMIR:
What we are about to receive is a magnificent lunch which will be served on the lawn and it has been prepared specially and with meticulous care by –

(
He
is
now
on
the
lawn
and
is
about
to
put
the
tray on
the
ground
when
his
chant
is
interrupted
by
FATHER
’s
clear
and
commanding
voice.
)

FATHER:
Casimir!

(
CASIMIR
ju
mps
to
attention;
rigid,
terrified.
)

CASIMIR:
Yes sir!

FATHER:
Come to the library at once. I wish to speak to you.

(
CASIMIR
now
realizes
that
the
voice
has
come
from
the
speaker.
)

CASIMIR:
Christ … oh-oh-oh my God … Ha-ha. Isn’t that a very comical joke – I almost stood to attention – I almost stood –

(
He looks round at the others who are staring at him. He tries to smile. He is totally lost. He looks at the tray; then sinks to the ground with it, ending in a kneeling position.
)

CASIMIR:
That’s the second time I was caught – the second time –

(
JUDITH
enters with the tea-pot. The eldest of the O’Donnell family: almost forty. She is dressed in old working clothes. Her appearance is of little interest to her.
)

JUDITH:
Did you bring the sugar and the sandwiches, Casimir? I’ve got the tea here.

FATHER:
At once, Sir. And bring your headmaster’s report with you. I intend to get to the bottom of this.

CASIMIR:
Judith?

JUDITH:
What is it?

CASIMIR:
Judith?

(
She
goes
quickly
outside,
gets
down
beside
him
and
takes
him
in
her
arms.
He
is
crying
now.
)

CASIMIR:
I’m sorry – I’m sorry – I’m very sorry.

JUDITH:
It’s all right.

CASIMIR:
I’m very sorry, very sorry.

JUDITH:
Everything’s all right – everything’s fine.

CASIMIR:
I don’t think it’s fair, Judith.

JUDITH:
Shhhhh.

CASIMIR:
That’s the second time I was caught by it. It’s not fair – it’s not fair.

JUDITH:
Shhhhh.

CASIMIR:
Ha-ha. It’s not fair.

(
She
rocks
him
in
her
arms
as
if
he
were
a
baby.
The
others
look
away.
Bring
lights
down
slowly.
)

ALICE:
I know you’re paying no attention to me – old Alice is a
little tiddly, isn’t she? But what I’m
suggesting is very sensible. The meal will be over at half one or two; and the happy couple will drive off into eternal bliss, And what’s to become of the rest of us? Sit looking at one another with melancholy faces? Sleep? Talk about old times? Listen to Father on the baby-alarm? (
Short
giggle
– then
remorse.
To
CASIMIR.
) Apologies. Withdraw that. That was unkind. So what do we do? My suggestion is – no, it’s a formal proposal. Madam Chairman (
Judith
) – I put it to your worship that we all head off somewhere and have some fun ourselves. You’ll drive us, Willie, won’t you?

WILLIE:
Surely to God. Anywhere you want.

ALICE:
All set, then. Where’ll we go? Glencolmcille! Who’s for –

(
JUDITH
sits
up
very
quickly
and
lifts
the
writing
pad
at
her
side
i.e.
her
list
of
wedding
preparations.
)

JUDITH:
Willie isn’t free to go anywhere.

(
ALICE
grimaces
extravagantly
behind
her
back.
)

ALICE:
Oooooh. So Willie isn’t free. All right, we’ll club together and rent a car – no,
I’ll
rent a car and you’ll all be my guests. Is that a unanimous verdict?

JUDITH:
Let’s get back to these things.

ALICE:
And we’ll bring our court clerk with us and every word we utter will be carefully recorded.

JUDITH:
Where had we got to? Any word from the photographer?

WILLIE:
He’ll be there at the chapel and then he’ll come up here afterwards.

ALICE:
God help the poor man if he thinks he’s heard one word of truth since he came here. Is he in the library?

TOM:
Careful, Alice: I’m here.

ALICE:
All you’re hearing is lies, my friend – lies, lies, lies.

TOM:
What’s the truth?

ALICE:
Later in the day and alcoholic Alice’ll tell all.

JUDITH:
I’ve asked one of the Moloney girls to look after Father while we’re at the church. Are you busy that morning?

WILLIE:
Doing nothing.

JUDITH:
Could you run her up? About half nine?

WILLIE:
No bother.

JUDITH:
Thanks.

ALICE:
Well, if none of you want to come with me, as Sister Thérèse used to say – remember her strange English? – ‘Boo-gar the whole lot of you!’

(
She
slumps
into
a
chair
and
closes
her
eyes.
)

JUDITH:
Food – that’s all got except for the ham.

CASIMIR:
Hurrah!

(
CASIMIR
’
s
sudden
triumphant
exclamation
startles
everybody.
EAMON
wakens,
startled.
)

CASIMIR:
There you are! Knew they were here!

EAMON:
God.

CASIMIR:
There! Look – look – look!

(
He
has
a
finger
stuck
into
the
ground.
)

ALICE:
Good old Casimir!

CASIMIR:
Now if there’s one there, there must be another somewhere beside it.

(
He
bends
over
to
his
search
again.
EAMON
gets
to
his
feet.
)

EAMON:
What is he at? Who’s missing?

JUDITH:
What’s the position about the flowers, Claire?

CASIMIR:
Here it is! (
He
stands
up.
)
You see – I remember it. Distinctly! (
He
marks
the
spot
with
a
napkin.
)
That means that there must be another one
–
(
He
strides
across
the
lawn
) – somewhere about here. (
He
grins
at
EAMON.
) Amn’t I right?

EAMON:
I’m sure you are.

CASIMIR:
Seven in all – isn’t that it?

EAMON:
At least.

CASIMIR:
No, no, just seven; and the peg in the middle. 

(
He
suddenly
drops
on
his
hands
and
knees
again
and
begins
groping.
)

EAMON:
Who is Peg?

JUDITH:
Claire!

CLAIRE:
Sorry?

JUDITH:
The flowers arrive on the last bus tomorrow night?

CLAIRE:
(
Vague,
indifferent
)
I think so.

JUDITH:
And Jerry’ll collect them and bring them up here?

CLAIRE:
Yes … probably … I suppose so.

JUDITH:
Claire, it’s –

WILLIE:
I’ll remind him this evening.

JUDITH:
Would you?

WILLIE:
And if he’s busy I’ll collect them.

(
EAMON
picks
up
the
cassette
and
switches
it
on
– Étude
Op.
10,
No.
3
in
E
major.
He
sings
with
it
in
a
parody
of
the
Crosby
style
of
the
late
1940s.
)

EAMON:
‘So deep is the night –’

(
CASIMIR
,
automatically,
without
looking
up
.)

CASIMIR:
Terrific. The E major Étude – right, Claire?

EAMON:
F major.

(
CASIMIR
sits
up.
)

CASIMIR:
Are you –? No, it’s the – Ah, you’re taking a hand at me, Eamon! I know you are. Ha-ha. Very good. Very comical.

(
He
bends
to
his
search
again.
)

EAMON:
‘No moon tonight; no friendly star to guide me on my way – boo-be-doo-ba-ba-de-ba …’

(
He
pours
himself
a
drink.
)

JUDITH:
What arrangement have you come to with Miss Quirk, Claire?

CLAIRE:
No arrangement.

JUDITH:
Is she going to play or is she not?

CLAIRE:
I told you all I know. I met her by accident.

JUDITH:
And what did she say?

CLAIRE:
All she said was ‘I play the harmonium at every wedding in Ballybeg’.

ALICE:
(
Eyes
closed
)
Who? Miss Quirk? O my God!

CLAIRE:
I don’t care. Let her play if she wants.

JUDITH:
Did she ask you what music you wanted?

CLAIRE:
You know very well she can play only two pieces.

ALICE:
Tom Hoffnung!

TOM:
Hello?

ALICE:
Before you leave you should meet Miss Quirk.

TOM:
Yeah?

ALICE:
She’s the Scott Joplin of Donegal.

JUDITH:
(
To
WILLIE
) I suppose I’ll have to pay her something?

WILLIE:
I’ll look after it. You can square with me later.

(
EAMON
is
wandering
around,
glass
in
hand.
He
sings
with
the
tape
again,
inventing
the
wards
he
has
forgotten.
)

EAMON:
‘And so am I, lonely and forgotten by the stream …’ (
To
WILLIE
) Remember dancing to that in the Corinthian in Derry?

WILLIE:
Every Friday night.

EAMON:
The steam rising out of us from getting soaked cycling in on the bikes.

WILLIE:
And the big silver ball going round and round up on the ceiling. Jaysus.

EAMON:
Tommy McGee on the sax; Bobby Kyle on piano; Jackie Fogarty on drums; young Turbet on clarinet.

WILLIE:
And slipping out to the cloakroom for a slug out of the bottle.

EAMON:
And the long dresses – the New Look – isn’t that what it was called?

WILLIE:
Oh Jaysus.

EAMON:
(
To
JUDITH
) Remembrance of things past.

JUDITH:
(To
WILLIE
) Is that coffee stone cold?

(
WILLIE
rises
immediately.
)

WILLIE:
If there’s any left in it.

(
He
goes
to
the
remains
of
the
picnic.
)

EAMON:
Do you remember the night we sneaked out to the Corinthian on my uncle’s motor-bike?

JUDITH:
Yes.

EAMON:
We were still sitting over there (
in
the
gazebo
)
when the sun came up.

CASIMIR:
Here we are! Two more holes! Corner number two! All agreed?

(
He
stands
up,
marks
the
position
with
a
napkin
as
before,
and
goes
to
another
part
of
the
lawn.
)

EAMON:
You wore your mother’s silver tiara in your hair. Do you remember?

JUDITH:
Yes.

EAMON:
Everything?

CASIMIR:
So that number three must be about – here.

(
He
drops
on
his
hands
and
knees
again
and
begins
groping.
)

ALICE:
(
Eyes
closed
)
I have it on very good authority that in the
privacy of her digs Miss Quirk plays the ukulele and sings dirty songs.

EAMON:
There was a hedgehog caught in the tennis-net. He had rolled himself up into a ball and his spikes were up against danger. Like me, you said. Do you remember?

JUDITH:
Yes.

EAMON:
And I asked you to marry me.

ALICE:
I’m ashamed to say I like dirty songs, Tom.

EAMON:
And you said yes.

JUDITH:
Where had we got to? – taxis. What about taxis, Willie?

WILLIE:
You’ll need only two. The car that leaves Jerry at the chapel then comes up here for you and Claire; and it waits here until the other car has headed off with the rest of the family and then it follows on. (
He
returns
with
a
cup
of
coffee.
)
There’s a wee drop in it – it’s not too bad. They were good times, Eamon, eh?, them nights in the Corinthian.

EAMON:
They were good times, Professor.

TOM:
What were?

EAMON:
Plebeian past times. Before we were educated out of our emotions.

(
He
switches
up
the
volume
of
the
cassette
while
he
sings
again
.)

EAMON:
‘So deep is the night, ba-ba-dee-boo-ba-ba-ba-ba …’

(
He
reduces
the
volume
again.
)

JUDITH:
I think we have enough wine.

ALICE:
I hope there’s plenty wine.

WILLIE:
(
To
ALICE
) I left in two cases – is that enough?