Father of the Man (37 page)

FLORA

Just to let you know I’m on my way. It hasn’t been too painful, has it? (Looking from one to the other)

HESTER

We are doing our very utmost to survive.

HAROLD

Lonely, lost and striving.

HESTER

With elephants a somewhat unexpected threat.

FLORA

Elephants? What on earth are the two of you talking about?

HAROLD

Be good, little girl, and I might enlighten you later. But for the moment why don’t you just run along and dress? Before we find we’ve missed not only the overture but most of the first act.

FLORA

All right, darling. But can I have a tiny refill for this? Or—better still—not such a tiny one.

HAROLD

(In a low voice, to FLORA) As the actress said to the bishop.

FLORA

(With anxious glance at HESTER, who is again at the radiogram) Harry! Darling! Shhh!

HESTER

(Turning; wanting to share in the joke) What’s that?

FLORA

Nothing, Mummy. Nothing.

HESTER

(Disappointed; even faint hint of resentment) Oh? I thought one of you said something amusing.

HAROLD

I made a very feeble joke. I was just being infantile. Also, it was rude. (He pours the sherry)

FLORA

And not in character. What have you done to him?

HESTER

(All resentment clearing) Ah…

FLORA

As a matter of fact I thought I heard the pair of you laughing a short while ago. And more than once.
Was
it you? Or was it the people in the next flat?

HESTER

Oh, it must have been the people in the next flat. Laughter? In here? Unthinkable. I shall complain to the management.

FLORA

(Pleased; puzzled) What
have
you been up to?

HAROLD

Now, then! Just take your drink and run away and get decent. There’s a good girl. (She’s about to go, still amused and somewhat baffled, when inconsistently he stops her) But first…a toast!

FLORA

Oh, nice. What to?

HAROLD

I don’t know. To a pleasant evening. And a happy life. To the three of us. (They all raise their glasses) To us! To friendship!

FLORA

To us! To friendship! (Pause) Friendship?

HESTER

To love and friendship. To love! To all of us!

FLORA

Ah, yes. That’s better.

ELLEN

And of course it just went on from there. Whoosh! Your grandmother and your father had fallen in love. And that evening saw the start of an affair that would last four years.

TONY

I don’t believe it! Gran! My father! For God’s sake, Ellen—she was nearly thirty years older than him.

ELLEN

She was fifty-three. Some women in their fifties can be more attractive than they’ve ever been. Look at Joan Collins.

TONY

Gran was never Joan Collins.

ELLEN

No, she was far classier. And more subtle. I mean, more subtle than Alexis. But in her own way she was equally ambitious. She knew what she wanted. (Stands—and sings) “Whatever Hester wants…Hester gets…and little man, little Hester…wants you!” I used to do a fairly decent tango in my day; but never—that I can remember—with a rose in my mouth. The things one misses!
Thés dançants
, before the war. I hear they’re coming back…I still had certain aspirations then.

TONY

But my father. He wasn’t attracted by older women. I can remember he told me that.

ELLEN

(Thrusting the rose back in its vase) Probably made rather a point of it, too. His second marriage, by all accounts, has turned out fairly well. Isn’t she about ten years older? I haven’t met her.

TONY

(Smiles, reluctantly) All right. You win.

ELLEN

And in psychology-speke, mightn’t he even have been looking for a new mother? It seems that, previously, he hadn’t done any too well in that department.

TONY

(By now they’ve sat down) But Ellen. How do you know all this? Are you sure that you’re not simply…?

ELLEN

Making it up? Taking a belated revenge because your grandmother and I have never quite…

TONY

No, not making it up. Of course not. But…but…perhaps allowing your imagination…Misconstruing things…

ELLEN

I know all this because I was told.

TONY

Whom by? And whoever it was…how could
they
have known about it any more than you? (Pause; ELLEN holds his gaze) No, I don’t believe it!…Gran?

ELLEN

Gran.

TONY

But why? (Helplessly) When?

ELLEN

When? Fairly near the start. Certainly within the first few months. Why? Because we’d just had words and she was putting me in my place. I’d said my life was arid and she’d told me, in effect, I had no one to blame but myself. Probably true—but, still, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. So I shot back that I couldn’t see her own life was any the
less
arid. And that’s when it all came out. With no room at all for misconstruction. She told me how wonderful your father’s lovemaking was and how it made her feel young again, and alive, and unmistakably needed.

TONY

(Pause) But…lovemaking? Remember that when Gran was young ‘making love’ didn’t mean the same as it does today.

TONY

And anyway. Mum’s given me the impression—more than once, in fact—that my father’s lovemaking was…well, quite a long way from being wonderful.

ELLEN

And she’s the one whom I’d definitely prefer to believe. All this emphasis on sex nowadays: how it can make the earth move; how you’ve never known what life is until you’ve known what love is. Well, who was it who said the position was ridiculous and the pastime overrated?

TONY

I think it was Somerset Maugham. Maybe not the world’s
greatest
authority. (Aware that he’s been tactless) But he
could
, actually, have got it right.

ELLEN

At all events, not an exponent of one-upmanship—well, not in this case, anyway. (Pause) Of course, one mustn’t be too hard upon your gran. She was angry when it all spilled out; otherwise it wouldn’t have happened. I’d touched her on the raw.

TONY

Did she ever mention it again?

ELLEN

How do you think I know it lasted four years? The next time it came up was only a day or two later; she rang me to apologize. And if I were really so unhappy with my life, she suggested, couldn’t we maybe talk about it—try to find some way of improving matters? You know how she’s always setting out to help. Just look at all the blind people she has here to meals; how she’s constantly taking one or other of them to the West End, by bus, to make their shopping easier and to treat them to a nice tea.
I
certainly couldn’t cope with any of that and I’m three years younger than she is. And you know the way someone only needs to send out some kind of SOS and she’ll go to unbelievable lengths to try to set things right. Without any air of sacrifice or condescension…just with her usual good humour and an instinctive feel for what’s going to put them at their ease…(Pause) Where was I, before I started on all this?

TONY

Gran rang to apologize.

ELLEN

Oh, yes. Well, I came round here and we chatted and she gave me all sorts of hopefully useful advice but…Anyway, after we’d done what we could with
my
situation, we again got round to the subject of herself and Harold. What did I feel she ought to do? Well, my suggestions to her were no more helpful than hers to me, but by the end of that couple of hours I found I’d become her confidante - which wasn’t at all what I’d have wanted—and yet I found it flattering too…None of your other great-aunts, so far as I knew, ever had the least inkling of what was going on.

TONY

And my mother?

ELLEN

During those four years? Not the shred of an idea. Well, who would have? Naturally, there must have been moments when she felt excluded—what with the horse-riding and the concerts and the various other things which Hester and Harold had found they had in common. Not that Hester would ever have meant to exclude her—not consciously. But during that time I felt extremely sorry for your mama. Yet…what could I do? And in any case, even without Hester, that marriage was doomed. In a way, absurd though this sounds, those were probably its four best years.

TONY

And why did it finish? The…affair.

ELLEN

I think it just sort of fizzled out. They went on being good friends—respecting one another. But apparently the sexual side of it…it simply waned. Isn’t that what often happens?

TONY

Between a man in his twenties and a woman in her fifties? I haven’t a clue. (Pause) And so my mother never realized?

ELLEN

Oh, yes…eventually. Some six years later she found out. Don’t ask me how. But
that
, you see, was the reason for the divorce—not this guff about your father demanding an abortion.

TONY

You mean, he didn’t want one?

ELLEN

He might have suggested it—halfheartedly. It’s true he didn’t want children. But he certainly wouldn’t have issued an ultimatum. He had too strong a sense of responsibility.

TONY

Sounds like it!

ELLEN

Well, the affair with your grandmother was a
coup de foudre
. It caught him off-balance and he felt powerless against it. It made him step completely out of character. Or, at least, appeared to.

TONY

(Pause) So then my mother cited my grandmother as co-respondent? The papers must have had a field day.

ELLEN

Certainly they would have had. But she filed only for cruelty. Not for adultery.

TONY

Oh, surprise, surprise. Biddable to the end.

ELLEN

Tony, that’s unfair! (Pause) For although it
is
true, it’s only a part of the truth. I’m sure there was also consideration for the feelings of others.

TONY

As well as her own.

ELLEN

You mustn’t blame your mother for this.

TONY

I know. I know. (Almost a wail) It’s just that she was so weak!

ELLEN

(Regarding him steadily, yet not commenting on this) She changed after she found out. All her
joie de
vivre
vanished. All her vitality. Not only was it the shock—and one can easily imagine just
what
a shock! But I think in some way she felt guilty. Exactly as you do now—after what has happened here this afternoon. And with every bit as little reason.

TONY

No. Thirty years ago
she
wasn’t the one who set all that business in motion. Whereas this afternoon—

ELLEN

She may have felt she did…by being too dull, by being too uneducated. Too uninteresting.

HESTER

(To TONY) We’ve been talking, your mother and I. And we’ve come to a decision.

TONY

(Cold) Oh, yes?

HESTER

How much is your university grant?

TONY

Why?

HESTER

Would you answer me, please.

TONY

Roughly two thousand a year.

HESTER

And what does your father have to pay towards it?

TONY

About half.

HESTER

Yes, that’s what your mother thought. Very well. Here’s our plan. You can take it or leave it but if you decide not to take it you’ll be an even greater fool than I think you.

ELLEN

(To HESTER) My goodness. What a career you could have had in selling.

HESTER

(Ignoring her) You told us you’d been offered a job which paid you a hundred pounds per week—five thousand a year. Now…if you go on at university for the next two years I shall give you three thousand pounds for each. I can ill afford it and it will naturally make a big difference to what I’ll be able to leave your mother but we are both resigned to that. I have already tried to telephone your father. Perhaps he can increase his contribution, though I haven’t the least idea what his reaction to that is likely to be—horror and outrage, without the slightest doubt! Unhappily he had just that minute left his office. Be that as it may, you’ll have your five thousand a year—so that you can support this woman and her two children in a style far richer than they’ve been accustomed to, and at the same time fulfil the hopes which your mother and I have always placed in you. What do you say?

TONY

No.

HESTER

No?

TONY

(Softer tone) Thank you. Obviously I appreciate your generosity—and self-sacrifice—and good intentions. Both of you. But, no, I can’t do it.

HESTER

(Ironically) You have your pride?

TONY

Yes—as a matter of fact.

HESTER

And would an extra five hundred a year go any way towards assuaging that?

TONY

No, of course it wouldn’t. What do you think I am?

HESTER

An ingrate. And a very deep disappointment to every one of us. But here’s what I’ll do. Against my better judgment I’ll even provide an extra thousand. Which will give you a whole
six
thousand a year. I must warn you, however, that that is my final offer. My very last word on the subject.

TONY

I don’t care if you provide an extra ten thousand. Or twenty. No.

HESTER

And can you explain your reasons?

TONY

Yes. It’s a matter of principle.

HESTER

What principle?

TONY

I have to make my own way.

HESTER

What, without any degree or qualification? And with nearly four million people out of work?

TONY

Plus, I don’t want to feel beholden.

HESTER

You wouldn’t need to feel beholden. By the time you’re thirty—and with a good degree behind you—you could be earning anything up to twenty thousand a year, twenty-five thousand, possibly even more. Then you could start paying back what we’ve given you—paying it back to your mother if not to me; we can think of it merely as a loan. But without a degree, you’ll be lucky to rise above seven or eight thousand. Ever. And what kind of a life do you suppose you’ll be able to lead on that?

TONY

(Pause) Money isn’t everything.

HESTER

Oh, what idealistic pap! I’ve got to sit down. (She sits; TONY doesn’t)
You
may think you’re very grown up and wise but
I
think you’ve simply taken up a position, dug in your heels, and aren’t man enough to say, “Well, yes, perhaps I’ve been mistaken. Perhaps I
ought
to be listening to my elders, ought to be grabbing at this lifeline they’re holding out to me—a
loan
, after all—it isn’t charity!” But your ‘pride’ won’t let you, will it?

TONY

(Moving abruptly towards the door) I’m sorry but I’ve got to go.

HESTER

You do realize, don’t you, that you’re not in love with this girl?

TONY

And what do you know of whether I’m in love with her or not?

HESTER

At best it’s just infatuation. Infatuation with
her
—infatuation with your own self-image, and noble stance.

TONY

No, it’s not like that at all.

HESTER

(Pause; as if genuinely puzzled) Does it mean nothing to you—absolutely nothing: all the dreams and hopes which those who love you have invested in you? Is it so terrible that they only want you to get on, to make a place for yourself in this world, carve out a fulfilling career, since they themselves know what it is to have failed? You see,
I
have no pride, I don’t mind telling you my life has been a disappointment—and if you asked your mother I’m sure she would say the same about hers.
We
have made a mess of things: largely, perhaps, because we didn’t have the opportunities: though whatever the reason is—whether it’s our own fault or simply the fault of circumstance—doesn’t in the end make a lot of difference.
You
have the opportunities. This is a golden age. You have the brains (Here HESTER suddenly has her tongue in cheek again) if only you would choose to employ them; you have the personality; you have the grit. Is it so wrong that your mother and I should simply wish to see our own lives haven’t been lived completely in vain—that all the waste and error have finally added up to something wonderful…in other words, my darling, to
you
? Because—don’t you see?—
your
salvation is also our salvation. Is that so horribly selfish an ambition for a mother and grandmother to entertain? Please don’t go until we’ve talked about it further.