Father of the Man (38 page)
Authors: Stephen Benatar
TONY is still standing at the door, although his determination has clearly wavered during this last speech.
TONY | I’ve got to go, anyway. But I’ll think over what you’ve said. |
HESTER | Do you promise? |
TONY | I promise. In any case, there’s nothing I can do till Monday. |
HESTER | But when will you let us know? Tomorrow? |
TONY | Or Sunday. Sunday at the latest. |
HESTER | Try and make it tomorrow. You know we shan’t get any rest until we’ve heard. You’re very precious to us. We only want what’s best for you, you know that. |
TONY | Yes. |
HESTER | (Now standing, walking halfway to the door and holding out her arms to him) And, darling, you’re not leaving without kissing your silly old granny goodbye? You know that even in the best-regulated circles people have their little…disagreements. It’s only because they care about each other and feel so dreadfully concerned. You need to look at what’s beneath those sometimes, I confess it, ill-considered words, rather than at the unclear, hasty things they express. Even grandmothers aren’t altogether perfect. |
ELLEN | You surprise me. (This, as TONY returns to kiss HESTER) |
HESTER | (Releasing TONY from a somewhat overlong embrace) And, as you go, don’t forget to look in on your mother. She’s in my bedroom. I think she may still be feeling…just a little unhappy. |
TONY | I wouldn’t have forgotten. And I’ll also look in on Mr Davis. |
HESTER | No, that isn’t necessary. Not if you’re late. |
TONY | Except that I told him I would. |
HESTER | Oh, then of course you must. |
TONY | Besides, I’d like to. (Goes to kiss ELLEN) Goodbye, Aunt Ellen. |
ELLEN | Why the return of the ‘aunt’? It was Ellen only a short while ago. |
TONY | I’m sorry. Force of habit. Ellen. |
ELLEN | (Lightly) Yes, you mustn’t regress. I’ve greatly enjoyed talking to you. Visit me sometimes. I’m nearly always at home. |
TONY | Yes. Yes, I will. |
ELLEN | And when you say you’ll do a thing, we all know that you mean it. |
TONY | I hope so. See you both. (To HESTER) Thank you for the tea. |
HESTER | God bless you, my darling. I’ll be in great suspense while awaiting your verdict. Do make it as merciful as you can. Besides as quick as you can. Don’t forget that at my age even a single day can make a difference. |
TONY nods; goes out. HESTER sits—sighs—pauses.
HESTER | (Cont; pleasantly) What |
ELLEN | Oh, this and that…I think, Hester, I may as well be on my way, too. |
HESTER | I thought you were staying to supper. |
ELLEN | (Patting her stomach) No, I’ve had enough tea to last me for a week. At home I never bother much with tea…unless I’ve a visitor. In particular a young one. (Gets up)You’ll say goodbye to Flora for me? I’m sorry that she’s so upset. |
HESTER | Thank you. But I’m sure she’ll soon be feeling better. |
ELLEN doesn’t respond to this. They kiss each other on the cheek. HESTER starts to rise.
ELLEN | No, no, don’t get up. I’ll see myself out. |
HESTER | (Sinking back again) Well, if you’re sure, dear…I can’t deny that I’m a little tired. |
ELLEN | It’s been a tiring afternoon. |
HESTER | Yes. But he is only nineteen. It would be surprising if one didn’t occasionally have such little contretemps. |
ELLEN looks at her a moment—then again takes the rose from the vase, puts it in her mouth and does the same snazzy tango to the door. To the same tune.
HESTER | (Amused) What on earth are you doing? |
ELLEN | (Taking the rose from her mouth) The tango, for heaven’s sake! Don’t say you didn’t recognize it? |
She repeats the dance, back across the room, once more replacing the rose in its vase—then back towards the door. Now singing the words.
ELLEN | “Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets, and little man, little Lola wants you! Make up your mind to have…no regrets; recline yourself, resign yourself; you’re through!” Oh, I forgot my handbag. (She goes back to collect it, from the floor beside her chair, then again dances to the door) “I always get what I take aim for—and your heart and soul are what I came for…” (Now with Lola’s Spanish accent very much accentuated) “You’re no exception to the rule. I’m irresistible, you fool—give in! Give in! Give in!” There! Doesn’t that remind you of the Café de Paris in the old days? (Leaves, then puts her head back round the door) Just singing for the supper that I never got! |
HESTER | Ah, is that what it was? I thought you might merely have gone gaga. |
ELLEN | Oh, I’ve thought that for years! Perhaps it runs in the family. One of its more appealing characteristics. (Goes) |
HESTER suddenly wilts. Is evidently dead beat. But after a short time arouses herself and, with an effort, stands.
HESTER | Must go to see how Flora is. (Heads for the door; stops) Or perhaps I’d better wait until he’s gone? Sighs) Oh, Tony, Tony, Tony!…Still. What can you expect? At nineteen? (Stands irresolute, thinking about something) At nineteen… |
She goes and sits; then almost at once rises again; crosses to radiogram, looks for a certain record, puts it on turntable.
HESTER | No, Ellen, this is |
Then she returns to her seat. The lights go down. When they come up again, most of the stage is in darkness. We can just see HESTER sitting in her armchair on the periphery but she is well outside the pool of light that illuminates the centre. Here we discover the nineteen-year-old HESTER, dressed in the style of 1923. She is circling restlessly around the perimeter of this small space, happy, excited, evoking the impression of somebody soon to be granted a release.
MAX walks into the pool of light; it is in fact a summerhouse. He’s about forty—not a particularly robust or young-looking forty—but quietly attractive.
MAX | Ah, Hester, you got here first. (She runs to him; they embrace, then draw apart) Stand still a moment. Let me look at you. You know, even after nearly four weeks, I still can’t quite believe it. |
HESTER | Tell me again about the ways in which I’ve changed over these past five years. |
MAX | No matter how often I tell you, I can’t do the transformation justice. |
HESTER | But try. |
MAX | My darling girl, you were fourteen years old. I remember you only as a sweet and serious and appealing child— |
HESTER | Sweet? You never said sweet before. I’m not sure I care too much for sweet. Nor serious either, come to that. You might as well tell me I was insipid and dull and have done with it. No, Max, you must do better than this. You have done better than this. |
MAX | You’re like a child listening to a favourite fairy tale. You can’t bear to have even one sentence altered. |
HESTER | So, then, why do what I can’t bear? |
MAX | The trouble is I can’t remember how I’ve phrased it in the past. Was I all right with ‘appealing’? |
HESTER | Appealing is…well, so-so. Bewitching would be better. Striking. Captivating. Irresistible. But I certainly hope I shan’t be required |
MAX | Ah, me. Did I happen to say before…? |
HESTER | What? |
MAX | …that you’ve become tempestuous! |
HESTER | No, you didn’t. But don’t think you’re going to provoke me. At least that isn’t dull. |
MAX | No, my dearest, there’s nothing about you that I recall as dull. So will tempestuous find favour? |
HESTER | Yes, that’s…acceptable. At least it’s a thousand times better than moody—or sulky, Have you noticed how Agnes and Ellen are most terrible sulkers? But even so. Is appealing and tempestuous as much as I’m going to get? |
MAX | Oh, not at all. |
HESTER | So? |
MAX | So heaven help us. What a demanding little minx you are. Please don’t forget there were six of you—and that you were all very much of an age. |
HESTER | Upon my word, there’s gallantry! |
MAX | And truth—which counts for more than gallantry. |
HESTER | Well, now. I might agree with you, if there |
MAX | Don’t call me that, my dearest girl—please. For one thing, it makes me feel so old. |
HESTER | Well, we’ll see. It depends on whether you can remember ever referring to me as unusually intelligent. You did once, you know. |
MAX | Oh, I remember that exceedingly well. |
HESTER | Where? |
MAX | How can I say where? I know I’ve thought it about you so often it’s hardly surprising if I’m a bit foggy as to where I actually said it. |
HESTER | (Laughs) Well, that at any rate is one you’ve wriggled out of quite successfully. And if not with truth, at least with gallantry. And resourcefulness. And ingenuity. And invention. In short—I almost admire it. |
MAX | Thank you. |
HESTER | But it was here, you evil man—here in this summerhouse. We were having a long conversation about the War, just the two of us, and about Mr Asquith and Mr Lloyd-George and you told me you’d never come across any fourteen-year-old |
MAX | Did I say that? Did I use such a cliché? |
HESTER | I’ve never forgotten it. |
MAX | (Looking about him) At least I remember how this old summerhouse provided such an excellent trysting place…Or, at any rate, if I don’t remember it |
HESTER | And the reason we never got discovered? (As if wanting, however needlessly, to emphasize her determination in the teeth of a male-dominated society) Because I informed the others the place was full of spiders. Naomi and Agnes became convinced it was a breeding ground for black widows. Probably even dreamed about it. |
MAX | Oh, Hester, you didn’t? So beautiful and yet so cruel? Besides—Ellen would never have swallowed that. And Ellen…Ellen would never have invented such a frightening story. |
HESTER | Don’t speak to me of Ellen! And don’t pull that long and disapproving face—I tell you that I shan’t stand for it! The thing is, we didn’t want to be disturbed, did we? And short of putting up a sign on the door…? (Pause; now a lot more tender) And do you remember how every time we came in here you would treat me so completely like an adult and talk to me about all manner of things? About books you’d read and plays you’d seen and the sort of life that actors and actresses sometimes led in private—and about King Edward and his mistresses and Jack the Ripper and ladies of easy virtue— |
MAX | Oh, Hester, no I’m sure I didn’t! |
HESTER | Oh, Maximilian, yes I’m sure you did! I don’t say that you yourself ever brought these subjects up but when I asked you questions, you never pretended that you hadn’t heard. So don’t grow old-maidish on me now! Mother would have had a fit if she could have heard some of the answers which you gave—and as for Father, if he’d been alive…! |
MAX | Your father, yes; there I would agree with you. But your mother wasn’t—isn’t—in the least straitlaced. |
HESTER | Well, admittedly, she might seem different to a brother than to a daughter. |
MAX | I suppose that’s true. But I still don’t think she’d have had a fit at anything she heard me say. |
HESTER | (Coyly) What about at anything she saw you do? |
MAX | What do you mean? |
HESTER | Don’t you remember how you used to sit me on your knee? |
MAX | Good God, Hester, you make it sound…I don’t know what…like something sordid. |
HESTER | Sordid? Oh, it was never that—forgive me if you thought for one moment…I’m only teasing, can’t you see that? For me it was so far from being sordid…It was so lovely to sit on your lap, it was thrilling, it was…heaven. Then as now, I used to treasure up my thoughts of it and bring them out whenever I felt wretched. I’d draw such reassurance from them, such energy, such strength… |
MAX | And, after all, what could have been more natural between any uncle and his niece who were always such very good friends? I also used to push you on the swing, I remember, and run beside you in the paddock, while you cantered round it on your pony— |
HESTER | Yes, but you used to push the others too at times and give |
MAX | (Laughs too) Like I say. A minx. |
HESTER | I hope you didn’t kiss them! |
MAX | Hester! (More softly) What do you think? |
HESTER | Ah…And I also think you haven’t finished telling me—or even started telling me—about this grand transformation that you found. |
MAX | (Impetuously) I’m glad you drew such strength and reassurance from all the time we spent together! I know that |
HESTER | (Shaking head) No, that isn’t true. How could it be? Otherwise you wouldn’t have gone away and left me for five years. You wouldn’t have said—(Mimicking)—“Well, there were six of you, you see, and you were all very much of an age…” So be careful…Uncle Max. I know you better than you think I do. |
MAX | (Smiles) And yet I insist—somehow—it is true. In part. A sort of mystical truth. I can’t explain it. |
HESTER | That’s most convenient. (Though clearly appeased.) |
MAX | Because I was pretty tired when I returned from France. Jaded, old, confused. Just like so many of the rest of us: the ones, I mean, who were lucky enough |
HESTER | (Holding her finger to his lips) Oh, yes, Max, it’s the most complimentary thing you could possibly have said. Like poetry. Truly to stand as the embodiment of such virtue in a war-torn hero’s troubled mind…Please don’t say another word. I’m just afraid you’ll spoil it. |
MAX | I wasn’t such a hero. |
HESTER | Oh, yes, you were. I won’t hear otherwise! (Strikes a stance, brandishes her rapier) And I’ll fight anyone who tries to tell it differently! |
MAX | Including me? That’s just it. I’ve never been a natural fighter. I’ve hated—hated—having to fight. (Sees her fleeting look of disappointment) But I’ll tell you one thing that I |
HESTER | The flouting of the law! |
MAX | Yes…Well…Thank God at least that |
HESTER | I’d rather be dead first. And thank God that you’re my mother’s favourite brother. What’s more, thank God you’re on your way to becoming her richest one also—and will be able to provide not only for us, but for her and the girls as well. |
MAX | Hester, my dear. |
HESTER | Why, what’s the matter? |
MAX | It’s one thing to be a little unconventional because your situation dictates it. It’s another to put things into words |
HESTER | Yes, but how else could I put them into words? Money does make a difference. And I’m not a hypocrite. And never shall be. (Pause) Max, I don’t care about money for its own sake. I care about it for the good it can do; for the people whom it enables you to help—whether the lepers and the outcasts of this world, or my own mother and sisters. |
MAX | I’d be helping your mother and sisters, anyway, whether or not the two of us were marrying. |
HESTER | Yes, I know. You’ve a kind heart and a commendable sense of family. But I’m awfully glad that into the bargain you happen to be handsome. |
MAX | Thank you. |
HESTER | Naomi was telling me she thinks it’s terribly romantic. (Laughs) But she would probably think it even more so if you were poor! |
MAX | (Involuntary; almost stern) Naomi is not your mother! (Quickly) Even if Katy had been left well- provided for—which was very far from being the case—it could never have been easy to bring up six daughters. As it is, it’s almost impossible to overstate your mother’s bravery. Or to realize what a struggle she must have had over these past thirteen years. (Pause) And the fact you girls were largely unaware of it makes such an achievement all the more remarkable. |
HESTER | Yes, poor mother! Poor, poor mother! (With sudden spurt of laughter) And, apart from anything else, only imagine having six daughters! |
MAX | I don’t suppose she’d wish to exchange any one of them. |
HESTER | Maybe not, maybe not. But |
