Complete Works, Volume I (6 page)

STANLEY
. Yes, I'm going out to celebrate quietly, on my own.

MCCANN
. That's a shame.

They stand.

STANLEY
. Well, if you'd move out of my way—

MCCANN
. But everything's laid on. The guests are expected.

STANLEY
. Guests? What guests?

MCCANN
. Myself for one. I had the honour of an invitation.

MCCANN
begins to whistle
"
The Mountains of Morne
"
.

STANLEY
(
moving away
). I wouldn't call it an honour, would you? It'll just be another booze-up.

STANLEY
joins
MCCANN
in whistling
"
The Mountains of Morne
"
During the next five lines the whistling is continuous, one whistling while the other speaks, and both whistling together.

MCCANN
. But it is an honour.

STANLEY
. I'd say you were exaggerating.

MCCANN
. Oh no. I'd say it was an honour.

STANLEY
. I'd say that was plain stupid.

MCCANN
. Ah no.

They stare at each other.

STANLEY
. Who are the other guests?

MCCANN
. A young lady.

STANLEY
. Oh yes? And. . . .?

MCCANN
. My friend.

STANLEY
. Your friend?

MCCANN
. That's right. It's all laid on.

STANLEY
walks round the table towards the door,
MCCANN
meets him.

STANLEY
. Excuse me.

MCCANN
. Where are you going?

STANLEY
. I want to go out.

MCCANN
. Why don't you stay here?

STANLEY
moves away, to the right of the table.

STANLEY
. So you're down here on holiday?

MCCANN
. A short one. (
STANLEY
picks up a strip of paper.
MCCANN
moves in.
) Mind that.

STANLEY
. What is it?

MCCANN
. Mind it. Leave it.

STANLEY
. I've got a feeling we've met before.

MCCANN
. No we haven't

STANLEY
. Ever been anywhere near Maidenhead?

MCCANN
. No.

STANLEY
, There's a Fuller's teashop. I used to have my tea. there.

MCCANN
. I don't know it.

STANLEY
. And a Boots Library. I seem to connect you with the High Street.

MCCANN
. Yes?

STANLEY
. A charming town, don't you think?

MCCANN
. I don't know it.

STANLEY
. Oh no. A quiet, thriving community. I was born and brought up there. I lived well away from the main road.

MCCANN
. Yes?

Pause.

STANLEY
. You're here on a short stay?

MCCANN
. That's right.

STANLEY
. You'll find it very bracing.

MCCANN
. Do you find it bracing?

STANLEY
. Me? No. But you will. (
He sits at the table.
) I like it here, but I'll be moving soon. Back home. I'll stay there too, this time. No place like home. (
He laughs.
) I wouldn't have left, but business calls. Business called, and I had to leave for a bit. You know how it is.

MCCANN
(
sitting at the table, left
). You in business?

STANLEY
. No. I think I'll give it up. I've got a small private income, you see. I think I'll give it up. Don't like being away from home. I used to live very quietly—played records, that's about all. Everything delivered to the door. Then I started a little private business, in a small way, and it compelled me to come down here—kept me longer than I expected. You never get used to living in someone else's house. Don't you agree? I lived so quietly. You can only appreciate what you've had when things change. That's what they say, isn't it? Cigarette?

MCCANN
. I don‘t smoke.

STANLEY
lights a cigarette. Voices from the back.

STANLEY
. Who's out there?

MCCANN
. My friend and the man of the house.

STANLEY
. You know what? To look at me, I bet you wouldn't think I'd led such a quiet life. The lines on my face, eh? It's the drink. Been drinking a bit down here. But what I mean is . . . you know how it is . . . away from your own . . . all wrong, of course . . . I'll be all right when I get back . . . but what I mean is, the way some people look at me you'd think I was a different person. I suppose I have changed, but I'm still the same man that I always was. I mean, you wouldn't think, to look at me, really. . . I mean, not really, that I was the sort of bloke to—to cause any trouble, would you? (
MCCANN
looks at him.
) Do you know what I mean?

MCCANN
. No. (
As
STANLEY
picks up a strip of paper.
) Mind that.

STANLEY
(
quickly
). Why are you down here?

MCCANN
. A short holiday.

STANLEY
. This is a ridiculous house to pick on. (
He rises.
)

MCCANN
. Why?

STANLEY
. Because it's not a boarding house. It never was.

MCCANN
. Sure it is.

STANLEY
. Why did you choose this house?

MCCANN
. You know, sir, you're a bit depressed for a man on his birthday.

STANLEY
(
sharply
). Why do you call me sir?

MCCANN
. You don't like it?

STANLEY
(
to the table.
) Listen. Don't call me sir.

MCCANN
. I won't, if you don't like it.

STANLEY
(
moving away
). No. Anyway, this isn't my birthday.

MCCANN
. No?

STANLEY
. No. It's not till next month.

MCCANN
. Not according to the lady.

STANLEY
. Her? She's crazy. Round the bend.

MCCANN
. That's a terrible thing to say.

STANLEY
(
to the table
). Haven't you found that out yet? There's a lot you don't know. I think someone's leading you up the garden path.

MCCANN
. Who would do that?

STANLEY
(
leaning across the table
). That woman is mad!

MCCANN
. That's slander.

STANLEY
. And you don't know what you're doing.

MCCANN
. Your cigarette is near that paper.

Voices from the back.

STANLEY
. Where the hell are they? (
Stubbing his cigarette.
) Why don't they come in? What are they doing out there?

MCCANN
. You want to steady yourself.

STANLEY
crosses to him and grips his arm.

STANLEY
(
urgently
). Look—

MCCANN
. Don't touch me.

STANLEY
. Look. Listen a minute.

MCCANN
. Let go my arm.

STANLEY
. Look. Sit down a minute.

MCCANN
(
savagely, hitting his arm
). Don't do that!

STANLEY
backs across the stage, holding his arm.

STANLEY
. Listen. You knew what I was talking about before, didn't you?

MCCANN
. I don't know what you're at at all.

STANLEY
. It's a mistake! Do you understand?

MCCANN
. You're in a bad state, man.

STANLEY
(
whispering, advancing
). Has he told you anything? Do you know what you're here for? Tell me. You needn't be frightened of me. Or hasn't he told you?

MCCANN
. Told me what?

STANLEY
(
hissing
). I've explained to you, damn you, that all those years I lived in Basingstoke I never stepped outside the door.

MCCANN
. You know, I'm flabbergasted with you.

STANLEY
(
reasonably
). Look. You look an honest man. You're being made a fool of, that's all. You understand? Where do you come from?

MCCANN
. Where do you think?

STANLEY
. I know Ireland very well. I've many friends there. I love that country and I admire and trust its people. I trust them. They respect the truth and they have a sense of humour. I think their policemen are wonderful. I've been there. I've never seen such sunsets. What about coming out to have a drink with me? There's a pub down the road serves draught Guinness. Very difficult to get in these parts
—
(
He breaks off. The voices draw nearer.
GOLDBERG
and
PETEY
enter from the back door.
)

GOLDBERG
(
as he enters
). A mother in a million. (
He sees
STANLEY
.) Ah.

PETEY
. Oh hullo, Stan. You haven't met Stanley, have you, Mr Goldberg?

GOLDBERG
. I haven't had the pleasure.

PETEY
. Oh well, this is Mr Goldberg, this is Mr Webber.

GOLDBERG
. Pleased to meet you.

PETEY
. We were just getting a bit of air in the garden.

GOLDBERG
. I was telling Mr Boles about my old mum. What days. (
He sits at the table, right
.) Yes. When I was a youngster, of a Friday, I used to go for a walk down the canal with a girl who lived down my road. A beautiful girl. What a voice that bird had! A nightingale, my word of honour. Good? Pure? She wasn't a Sunday school teacher for nothing. Anyway, I'd leave her with a little kiss on the cheek—I never took liberties—we weren't like the young men these days in those days. We knew the meaning of respect. So I'd give her a peck and I'd bowl back home. Humming away I'd be, past the children's playground. I'd tip my hat to the toddlers, I'd give a helping hand to a couple of stray dogs, everything came natural. I can see it like yesterday. The sun falling behind the dog stadium. Ah! (
He leans back contentedly.
)

MCCANN
. Like behind the town hall.

GOLDBERG
. What town hall?

MCCANN
. In Carrikmacross.

GOLDBERG
. There's no comparison. Up the street, into my gate, inside the door, home. “Simey!” my old mum used to shout, “quick before it gets cold.” And there on the table what would I see? The nicest piece of gefilte fish you could wish to find on a plate.

MCCANN
. I thought your name was Nat.

GOLDBERG
. She called me Simey.

PETEY
. Yes, we all remember our childhood.

GOLDBERG
. Too true. Eh, Mr Webber, what do you say? Childhood. Hot water bottles. Hot milk. Pancakes. Soap suds. What a life.

Pause.

PETEY
(
rising from the table
). Well, I'll have to be off.

GOLDBERG
. Off?

PETEY
. It's my chess night.

GOLDBERG
. You're not staying for the party?

PETEY
. No, I'm sorry, Stan. I didn't know about it till just now. And we've got a game on. I'll try and get back early.

GOLDBERG
. We'll save some drink for you, all right? Oh, that reminds me. You'd better go and collect the bottles.

MCCANN
. Now?

GOLDBERG
. Of course, now. Time's getting on. Round the corner, remember? Mention my name.

PETEY
. I'm coming your way.

GOLDBERG
. Beat him quick and come back, Mr Boles.

PETEY
. Do my best. See you later, Stan.

PETEY
and
MCCANN
go out, left.
STANLEY
moves to the centre.

GOLDBERG
. A warm night.

STANLEY
(
turning
). Don't mess me about!

GOLDBERG
. I beg your pardon?

STANLEY
(
moving downstage
). I'm afraid there's been a mistake. We're booked out. Your room is taken. Mrs Boles forgot to tell you. You'll have to find somewhere else.

GOLDBERG
. Are you the manager here?

STANLEY
. That's right.

GOLDBERG
. Is it a good game?

STANLEY
. I run the house. I'm afraid you and your friend will have to find other accommodation.

GOLDBERG
(
rising
). Oh, I forgot, I must congratulate you on your birthday. (
Offering his hand.
) Congratulations.

STANLEY
(
ignoring hand
). Perhaps you're deaf.

GOLDBERG
. No, what makes you think that? As a matter of fact, every single one of my senses is at its peak. Not bad going, eh? For a man past fifty. But a birthday, I always feel,
is a great occasion, taken too much for granted these days. What a thing to celebrate—birth! Like getting up in the morning. Marvellous! Some people don't like the idea of getting up in the morning. I've heard them. Getting up in the morning, they say, what is it? Your skin's crabby, you need a shave, your eyes are full of muck, your mouth is like a boghouse, the palms of your hands are full of sweat, your nose is clogged up, your feet stink, what are you but a corpse waiting to be washed? Whenever I hear that point of view I feel cheerful. Because I know what it is to wake up with the sun shining, to the sound of the lawnmower, all the little birds, the smell of the grass, church bells, tomato juice—