Brian Friel Plays 2 (47 page)
Read Brian Friel Plays 2 Online
Authors: Brian Friel
Terry
Angela –
Angela
A Hymn To The Forces That Defy Civilization!
Terry
Oh God, Angela –
Angela
(
passionately,
urgently
)
Please, Terry – for Christ’s sake – please, not now – not now!
Berna
stands
on
a
fish-box
and
proclaims:
Berna
Lord, it is good for us to be here!
Angela
Amen to that, sister!
Terry
Careful, Berna. That box is rotten.
Berna
I want to sing a hymn.
Angela
Yes! Sing your hymn, Berna!
Berna
now
sings,
her
face
frozen
in
a
fixed
and
desperate
smile.
Berna
(
sings
)
‘O, Mother, I could weep for mirth –’
Terry
Berna –
Berna
‘Joy fills my heart so fast –’ Help me, George!
Angela
Help her, George.
Berna
I’ll start again. Give me a note.
George
gives
her
a
chord.
Thank you.
‘O, Mother, I could weep for mirth
Joy fills my heart so fast –’
Angela
now
sings
with
her.
Berna and Angela
‘My soul today is heaven on earth
O could the transport last.’
Trish
Good girl, Berna!
Now
Trish
joins
them.
Berna, Angela and Trish
‘I think of thee and what thou art –’
Now
Terry
joins
them.
Berna, Angela, Trish and Terry
‘Thy majesty, thy state.
And I keep singing in my heart
Immaculate! Immaculate!’
Before
the
lights
come
up
we
hear
George
playing
the
entire
first
verse
of
‘Oft
in
the
Stilly
Night’.
About
twelve
hours
later
–
the
early
hours
of
the
following
morning.
The
pier
is
lit
by
a
midsummer-night
glow
that
illuminates
with
an
icy,
surreal
clarity.
The
boisterous,
day-excursion
spirit
has
long
ago
evaporated.
Waiting
for
the
boat
has
made
them
weary
and
a
bit
irritable.
Each
has
retreated
into
his/her
own
privacy
and
does
not
wish
to
be
intruded
on.
Angela
is
sitting
on
a
bollard,
gazing
without
interest
through
the
binoculars
in
the
general
direction
of
the
island.
Trish
is
sitting
with
her
back
to
the
pier
wall,
her
arms
round
her
legs,
her
face
on
her
knees.
Frank
is
on
the
catwalk
and
looking
towards
Carlin’s
house.
Berna
is
sitting
on
the
edge
of
the
pier
(stage
right),
her
legs
hanging
over
the
edge
of
the
pier
floor.
George
is
sitting
on
a
fish-box,
head
back,
eyes
closed,
body
erect
and
tense,
playing
the
last
bars
of
the
song.
Terry
looks
casually
through
the
hampers,
examining
the
contents,
tidying
up,
killing
time.
The
music
ends.
Terry
Anybody for a slice of melting birthday cake?
No
answer.
He
continues
tidying.
Pause.
Glass of flat champagne?
No
answer.
He
continues
tidying.
Pause.
Venison and apricot compote? Honey gâteau? Ever hear of honey gâteau?
Trish
Give our heads peace, Terry, would you?
Terry
Maybe I should bring this cake over to Carlin. Might soften his bark.
Frank
Hey-hey-hey-hey-hey! Look at that! There’s smoke coming from the chimney again!
Trish
(
wearily
)
Wonderful.
Frank
He lets the fire die at midnight and then three hours later he lights it up again. What the hell is Mr Carlin up to?
Trish
We could do with a fire. It’s got chilly.
Frank
What sort of a game is he playing with us?
Terry
Time has no meaning for a man like that. (
He
holds
up
a
small
box.
)
Cherry and mandarin chartreuse –? (
to
Trish
)
Sorry.
Pause.
George
now
plays
the
full
chorus
of
‘Down
by
the
Cane-brake’
.
He
plays
very
softly
and
more
slowly
than
the
song
is
scored.
His
arrangement
with
its
harmonium-style
chords
endows
the
song
with
the
tone
and
dignity
of
a
hymn.
It
sounds
almost
sacred.
Immediately
after
he
plays
‘Down
by
the
cane-brake,
close
by
the
mill’
Angela
looks
at
him.
Angela
‘Down by the Cane-brake.’
George
Know it?
Angela
Haven’t heard it in years.
Terry
What’s a cane-brake?
Angela
Shelter-belt of canes, I suppose. Protection against the elements.
Terry
Ah.
Frank
If he’s not playing some sort of bizarre game with us, then explain why he lights his fire at three in the morning.
Angela
He just loves tormenting us.
Trish
The poor man’s cold, Frank.
Frank
Not that man. That man has no human feelings.
Angela
Maybe he wants to dispel the enchantment.
Terry
Marrons glacés – whatever they are. George?
George
No, thanks.
Frank
He has betrayed us, the bastard.
Terry
He’ll come, Frank. Believe me.
Trish
We could do with a cane-brake here.
Frank
If he never had any intention of ferrying us across – fine! – say that straight out! ‘Sorry, bowsies, no ferrying today.’
Terry
He’ll come.
Trish
Couldn’t we rent his boat from him and row ourselves out?
Frank
Where’s the boat? Has he got a boat?
Terry
(
to
Trish
)
He’d never allow that.
Trish
Why not?
Terry
That’s his job.
Trish
Too late to go out now anyway.
Terry
It’s only ten to three. We’ll still make it – believe me.
Trish
Of course, when I proposed we spend the night here, I was shouted down. Perverse – that’s what you are.
Frank
‘Give me a while at the turf, sir. That’s all I need.’ And four hours later, ‘A mouthful of tea and I’ll be over behind you.’
Trish
Maybe he’s past ferrying people. Is he very old?
Frank
Ancient; and filthy; and toothless. And bloody smiling all the time.
Angela
Forget Mr Carlin, my darlings. Put Mr Carlin out of your thoughts.
Frank
God, I always hated peasants.
Trish
And bloody Sligo peasants are the worst, I’m sure.
Terry
He’ll come. Believe me. He’ll come.
Angela
‘Believe me – believe me’ – I suppose it’s enviable in a way, isn’t it?
Terry
What is?
Angela
does
not
answer.
She
goes
to
Berna
at
the
end
of
the
pier.
Angela
What’s the water like?
Berna
Warm. Warmish.
Angela
Wouldn’t mind a swim. Brighten us all up. (
She
hugs
Berna
quickly.
)
And how’s the baby sister?
Berna
shrugs.
You’re looking much stronger.
Berna
Am I?
Angela
Terry says you’ll be back in the practice in a month.
Berna
That’s not true. Who’s looking after the children tonight?
Angela
The McGuires next door.
Berna
The whole brood?
Angela
I know. Hearts of gold.
Berna
I have a birthday present for young Frankie. I’ll drop it in at the weekend.
Angela
You have that godson of yours spoiled.
Berna
No, I’ll get Terry to leave it in. The godson has got very … tentative with me recently.
Angela
You couldn’t make that –
Berna
I make him uneasy. You know how intuitive children are. I think maybe I frighten him.
Angela
Frankie’s dying about you, Berna.
Berna
Frighten is too strong. When I reach out to touch him he shrinks away from me. I … disquiet him. Anyhow. Do you really think I look stronger?
Angela
I know you are.
Berna
Terry thinks the reason for my trouble is that we couldn’t have a child. That’s what he tells the doctors.
And that never worried me all that much. But it’s an obsession with him. He’s even more neurotic than Trish about not having children. A Martin neurosis, I tell him.
Angela
Shhh.
Berna
And he would have been so good with children. Married the wrong sister, didn’t he?
Angela
Berna –
Berna
Oh, yes; oh, yes. When you married Frank a little portion of him atrophied. Then he turned to me. I’m the surrogate.
Angela
You’ve got to –
Berna
Are you happy, Angela?
Angels
hums
‘Happy
Days
Are
Here
Again’
.
There are times when I feel I’m … about to be happy. That’s not bad, is it? Are you laughing at me?
Angela
Of course I’m not laughing at you.
Berna
Maybe that’s how most people manage to carry on – ‘about to be happy’; the real thing
almost
within grasp, just a step away. Maybe that’s the norm. But then there are periods – occasions – when just being alive is … unbearable.
Terry
Marinated quail and quince jelly. God!
Trish
The delights of the world – you have them all there.
Angela
There are times when all of us –
Berna
He has no happiness with me – Terry. Not even ‘about-to-be’ happiness. He should leave me. I wouldn’t mind if he did. I don’t think I’d mind at all. Because in a way I feel I’ve moved beyond all that. (
She
stands
up.
)
But
then what would he do, where would he go? (
She
moves
away.
)
Angela
picks
up
the
binoculars.
Terry
Six months ago there was a horse called Quince Fruit running at Cheltenham. Worst mistake of my whole life. Practically cleaned me out – Quince Fruit almost ruined me.
Pause.
Now
Berna
begins
singing
the
verse
of
‘Down
by
the
Cane-brake
’
.
Immediately
George
accompanies
her.
She
sings
in
the
mood
George
established
earlier,
softly,
quietly,
but
not
quite
as
slowly
as
George
played
the
chorus.
She
tells
the
story
of
the
song
with
intimacy
and
precision,
as
do
the
others
when
they
sing
or
join
in,
each
singing
in
the
same
quiet,
internal
personal
way.
Berna
(
sings
)
‘Down by the cane-brake, close by the mill
There lived a blue-eyed girl by the name of Nancy Dill –’
Terry
(
to
Trish
)
Mother’s song.
Trish
nods.
Berna
(
sings
)
‘I told her that I loved her, I loved her very long,
I’m going to serenade her and this will be my song –’
Trish
now
sings
the
chorus
with
Berna.
Berna and Trish
‘Come, my love, come, my boat lies low,
She lies high and dry on the O-hi-o.
Come, my love, come, and come along with me
And I’ll take you back to Tennessee.’
A
very
brief
bridging
passage
by
George.
Then
Terry
sings
alone.
Terry
(
sings
)
‘Down by the cane-brake some happy day
You’ll hear a wedding bell a-ringing mighty gay.
I’m going to build a cabin and in a trundle bed
There’ll be a blue-eyed baby and all because you said –’
Chorus
sung
by
Frank,
Berna,
Trish
and
Terry.
Then
Trish
alone:
Trish
‘Down by the cane-brake that’s where I’ll stay
Longside of Nancy Dill till we are laid away.
And when we get to heaven and Peter lets us in
I’ll start my wings a-flappin’ and sing to her again –’
Chorus
sung
by
Frank,
Berna,
Trish,
Terry
and
Angela.
Then
a
final
cadence
from
George.
Brief
pause.
What time is it?
Terry
Just after three.
Trish
Night, everybody. See you in the morning. ’Bye.
Again
they
all
retreat
into
their
privacies.
Angela
looks
through
the
binoculars.
Terry
(
passing
behind
Angela
)
Tennessee still there?
Angela
Lost it again?
Terry
Still there. ‘Believe me.’
She
shrugs
and
smiles.
Terry
looks
around
at
them
all.
Then
he
addresses
them.
