Brian Friel Plays 2 (6 page)

Kate
Your ten Wild Woodbine, Maggie.

Maggie
Great. The tongue’s out a mile.

Rose
(
privately
)
You missed it all, Maggie.

Maggie
What did I miss this time?

Rose
We were all going to go to the harvest dance – like the old days. And then Kate –

Kate
Your shoes, Rose. The shoemaker says, whatever kind of feet you have, only the insides of the soles wear down.

Rose
Is that a bad thing?

Kate
That is neither a bad thing nor a good thing, Rose. It’s just – distinctive, as might be expected.

Rose
grimaces
behind
Kate’s
back.

Cornflour … salt … tapioca – it’s gone up a penny for some reason … sugar for the bilberry jam – if we ever get the bilberries …

Agnes
and
Rose
exchange
looks.

Maggie
(
privately
to
Rose
)
Look at the packet of Wild Woodbine she got me.

Rose
What’s wrong with it?

Maggie
Only nine cigarettes in it. They’re so wild one of them must have escaped on her.

They
laugh
secretly.

Chris
Doesn’t Jack sometimes call you Okawa, too, Maggie?

Maggie
Yes. What does it mean?

Chris
Okawa was his house boy, Kate says.

Maggie
Dammit. I thought it was Swahili for gorgeous.

Agnes
Maggie!

Maggie
That’s the very thing we could do with here – a house boy.

Kate
And the battery. The man in the shop says we go through these things quicker than anyone in Ballybeg.

Chris
Good for us. (
She
takes
the
battery
and
leaves
it
beside
Marconi.
)

Kate
I met the parish priest. I don’t know what has happened to that man. But ever since Father Jack came home he can hardly look me in the eye.

Maggie
That’s because you keep winking at him, Kate.

Chris
He was always moody, that man.

Kate
Maybe that’s it … The paper … candles … matches … The word’s not good on that young Sweeney boy from the back hills. He was anointed last night.

Maggie
I didn’t know he was dying!

Kate
Not an inch of his body that isn’t burned.

Agnes
Does anybody know what happened?

Kate
Some silly prank up in the hills. He knows he’s dying, the poor boy. Just lies there, moaning.

Chris
What sort of prank?

Kate
How would I know?

Chris
What are they saying in the town?

Kate
I know no more than I’ve told you, Christina.

Pause.

Rose
(
quietly,
resolutely
)
It was last Sunday week, the first night of the Festival of Lughnasa; and they were doing what they do every year up there in the back hills.

Kate
Festival of Lughnasa! What sort of –

Rose
First they light a bonfire beside a spring well. Then they dance round it. Then they drive their cattle through the flames to banish the devil out of them.

Kate
Banish the –! You don’t know the first thing about what –

Rose
And this year there was an extra big crowd of boys and girls. And they were off their heads with drink. And young Sweeney’s trousers caught fire and he went up like a torch. That’s what happened.

Kate
Who filled your head with that nonsense?

Rose
They do it every Lughnasa. I’m telling you. That’s what happened.

Kate
(
very
angry,
almost
shouting
)
And they’re savages! I know those people from the back hills! I’ve taught them! Savages – that’s what they are! And what pagan practices they have are no concern of ours – none whatever! It’s a sorry day to hear talk like that in a Christian home, a Catholic home! All I can say is that I’m shocked and disappointed to hear you repeating rubbish like that, Rose!

Rose
(
quietly,
resolutely
)
That’s what happened. I’m telling you.

Pause.

Maggie
All the same it would be very handy in the winter time to have a wee house boy to feed the hens: ‘Tchook-tchook-tchook-tchook-tchook-tchook-tchook-tchookeeee …’

Father
Jack
enters
by
the
back
door.
He
looks
frail
and
older
than
his
fifty-three
years.
Broad-brimmed
black
hat.
Heavy
grey
top
coat.
Woollen
trousers
that
stop
well
short
of
his
ankles.
Heavy
black
boots.
Thick
woollen
socks.
No
clerical
collar.
He
walks
–
shuffles
quickly
–
with
his
hands
behind
his
back.
He
seems
uneasy,
confused.
Scarcely
any
trace
of
an
Irish
accent.

Jack
I beg your pardon … the wrong apartment … forgive me …

Kate
Come in and join us, Jack.

Jack
May I?

Maggie
You’re looking well, Jack.

Jack
Yes? I expected to enter my bedroom through that … what I am missing – what I require … I had a handkerchief in my pocket and I think perhaps I –

Chris
(
taking
one
from
the
ironing
pile
)
Here’s a handkerchief.

Jack
I thank you. I am grateful. It is so strange: I don’t remember the – the architecture? – the planning? – what’s the word? – the lay-out! – I don’t recollect the lay-out of this home … scarcely. That is strange, isn’t it? I thought the front door was there, (
to
Kate
)
You walked to the village to buy stores, Agnes?

Kate
It’s Kate. And dozens of people were asking for you.

Jack
They remember me?

Kate
Of course they remember you! And when you’re feeling stronger they’re going to have a great public welcome for you – flags, bands, speeches, everything!

Jack
Why would they do this?

Kate
Because they’re delighted you’re back.

Jack
Yes?

Kate
Because they’re delighted you’re home.

Jack
I’m afraid I don’t remember them. I couldn’t name ten people in Ballybeg now.

Chris
It will all come back to you. Don’t worry.

Jack
You think so?

Agnes
Yes, it will.

Jack
Perhaps … I feel the climate so cold … if you’ll forgive me …

Agnes
Why don’t you lie down for a while?

Jack
I may do that … thank you … you are most kind …

He
shuffles
off.
Pause.
A
sense
of
unease,
almost
embarrassment.

Kate
(
briskly
)
It will be a slow process but he’ll be fine. Apples … butter … margarine … flour … And wait till you hear! Who did I meet in the post office! Maggie, are you listening to me?

Maggie
Yes?

Kate
You’ll never believe it – your old pal, Bernie O’Donnell! Home from London! First time back in twenty years!

Maggie
Bernie …

Kate
Absolutely gorgeous. The figure of a girl of eighteen. Dressed to kill from head to foot. And the hair! – as black and as curly as the day she left. I can’t tell you – a film star!

Maggie
Bernie O’Donnell …

Kate
And beside her two of the most beautiful children you ever laid eyes on. Twins. They’ll be fourteen next month. And to see the three of them together – like sisters, I’m telling you.

Maggie
Twin girls.

Kate
Identical.

Maggie
Identical.

Kate
Nora and Nina.

Rose
Mother used to say twins are a double blessing.

Maggie
Bernie O’Donnell … oh my goodness …

Kate
And wait till you hear – they are pure blond! ‘Where in the name of God did the blond hair come from?’ I asked her. ‘The father. Eric,’ she says. ‘He’s from Stockholm.’

Agnes
Stockholm!

Rose
Where’s Stockholm, Aggie?

Kate
So there you are. Bernie O’Donnell married to a Swede. I couldn’t believe my eyes. But the same bubbly, laughing, happy Bernie. Asking about everybody by name.

Maggie
goes
to
the
window
and
looks
out
so
that
the
others
cannot
see
her
face.
She
holds
her
hands,
covered
with
flour,
out
front
her
body.

Chris
She remembered us all?

Kate
Knew all about Michael; had his age to the very month. Was Agnes still the quickest knitter in Ballybeg? Were none of us thinking of getting married? – and weren’t we wise!

Rose
Did she remember me?

Kate
‘Rose had the sweetest smile I ever saw.’

Rose
There!

Kate
But asking specially for you, Maggie: how you were doing – what you were doing – how were you looking – were you as light-hearted as ever? Every time she thinks of you, she says, she has the memory of the two of you hiding behind the turf stack, passing a cigarette between you and falling about laughing about some boy called – what was it? – Curley somebody?

Maggie
Curley McDaid. An eejit of a fella. Bald as an egg at seventeen. Bernie O’Donnell … oh my goodness …

Pause.

Agnes
Will she be around for a while?

Kate
Leaving tomorrow.

Agnes
We won’t see her so. That’s a pity.

Chris
Nice names, aren’t they? – Nina and Nora.

Kate
I like Nora. Nice name. Strong name.

Agnes
Not so sure about Nina. (
to
Chris
)
Do you like Nina for a name?

Chris
Nina? No, not a lot.

Kate
Well, if there’s a Saint Nina, I’m afraid she’s not in my prayer book.

Agnes
Maybe she’s a Swedish saint.

Kate
Saints in Sweden! What’ll it be next!

Rose
Mother used to say twins are a double blessing.

Kate
(
sharply
)
You’ve offered us that cheap wisdom already, Rose.

Pause.

Chris
You’ve got some flour on your nose, Maggie.

Maggie
When I was sixteen I remember slipping out one Sunday night – it was this time of year, the beginning of August – and Bernie and I met at the gate of the workhouse and the pair of us off to a dance in Ardstraw. I was being pestered by a fellow called Tim Carlin at the time but it was really Brian McGuinness that I was – that I was keen on. Remember Brian with the white hands and the longest eyelashes you ever saw? But of course he was crazy about Bernie. Anyhow the two boys took us on the bar of their bikes and off the four of us headed to Ardstraw, fifteen miles each way. If Daddy had known, may he rest in peace …