Can You Hear Me Mother. (2)
Lucy: Mum says I’m to ask you if you are going. I loved it there last time. George: Ramsgate. Yes. That’d be nice. See what your Gran says. She’s the one to see about that, Lucy. (Pause.) Ramsgate. Had some good times there didn’t we Enid? Enid: Her other two kids had to be shipped off to their aunt’s place in the country. Poor sods. Bet they didn’t think much of the War. Their dad got compassionate leave for a while, if I remember right. I was only a kid myself then. George: Nice times at Ramsgate, Enid, I said. (Walks to the green garden bench and sits next to Lucy.) The War’s over. Best forgotten. Enid: Forgotten and then we have another one, Best not to forget, Dad. Lucy: My dad said politicians start all wars. They started it, he said, they should fight it. George: That’s not how it is though is it, Lucy. It’s we who have to fight the bloody wars these politicians start. Always has been always will be. Enid: Ramsgate’s a nice place. Wouldn’t mind going there myself this time. Had enough of that Charlie Flick and his trips. He had more in mind than camping. If that’s what fresh air does to a bloke then he can stay in London and choke for all I care. I’ll go to Ramsgate with you and Mum this time. (Puts her book down on her lap.)Where is Mum? George: Said she was popping over the shop for some stuff for lunch. She’s probably met someone she knows and got chatting. Just as well we never had her as a messenger in the War or we’d still be waiting for a reply. She doesn’t half chat. If I wrote down all the gossip, she sprouts in a day I could fill a book. Lucy: Not sure how much fighting my dad did in the War. He entertained the troops. Enid: Each plays their part in the overall thing. George: If he sang then I’d say he did their morale a good turn. Probably made the troops realise what they were fighting for. Is he acting at the moment? Lucy: He did a small part in Hamlet last month. Enid: Each person being a small piece of the larger picture. Like a jigsaw, I suppose. George: Hamlet. Small part. Things are looking up. He’ll be playing Macbeth’s auntie before long. (Pause.)Thought Elsie would have had him on a proper job by now, knowing her. Lucy: Dad says he’ll get the lead role one day. Just a matter of waiting. See what comes along. (Looks down at her hands. Pulls her skirt down over her knees.)That Mr.Serf will still be at Ramsgate won’t he? Enid: If Mum’s met up with Mrs Clerk then we’re in for a long wait. Her son’s just got back from wherever it was he went to last year with his ship. She’ll be chewing that bone of news over for God knows how long. You’d have thought he’d been to the South Pole in his pyjamas and slippers the way she goes on. George: Mind you, Enid; it’s more than her eldest ever did. He went no further than Brixton at Her Majesty’s Pleasure. Lucy: I’m sure he meant to be kind. All those sweets he gave me. Enid: Archie Clerk always was a non-starter at school. The number of times he got the cane was nobody’s business. If he got a quid for each time he had the cane he’d be able to retire by now. (Gets up from the deckchair and rubs her backside.)Got a numb bum, now. Sitting too long. (Looks up at the sky.)Those clouds are beautiful. I can see a face in that one over there. George: Whose face is it? Enid: Can’t say whose face. Just a face. A face-like cloud. And that one over there is like a big marshmallow. (Screws up her nose. Peers harder.)Funny what you can see in the clouds. George: Little things please little minds, little knickers fit little behinds. Lucy: And he did say nice things to me. Enid: You’re wasted, Dad. You should have been a poet yourself. Poet laureate no less. George: You cheeky mare. (Goes to swipe her backside but she moves off towards the green house.)You’re not too big for a smack, my girl. (Smiles.) I pity your husband should you get one. Enid: He’ll need pitying by the time he’s got to know me well enough. Lucy: Clarence he said his name was. George: Too true, he will. Poor blighter whoever he may be. (Enid moves back and rubs George’s head. George grabs her hand and smacks it playfully.)What will I do if you leave? I’ll be left with your mother and no relief. Elsie comes but rarely and Sally visits once a month regular as clockwork. She’s like a prison visitor. (Pause.)Won’t be the same if you leave. I’ll have no one to do me little chores. No one to get me a nice cup of tea. Enid: Mum’s here. She’ll get you what you want. Lucy: Clarence Serf. (Looks at her hands again.) His wife was not so nice. She was always on at him about doing this and that. George: She says I get under her feet. And I say to her that she shouldn’t have such big feet. She’d laugh at that once, now she just pulls a face and tut-tuts. (Pulls Enid onto his lap.)I’d hate it if my little girl got married. Enid: Don’t be such a big softy. (Kisses George’s hand and then gets up.)You’ll be glad to see the back of me. George: Got to better than the front. Lucy: I felt sorry for him at times. Enid: Sorry for whom? Lucy: Clarence Serf. Enid: He’s another softy. George: His moustache could win prizes. Lucy: It’s a bit prickly. Enid: Wonder what his wife saw in him? George: Looks like he’s got toilet brush under his nose. Lucy: He let me touch it once. Very prickly. Makes you feel all funny. Enid: The way he creeps about the place. Like some Nancy Boy. (Pause.)Where’s Mum got to? George: Putting the world to rights, I expect. She, Mrs Clerk, and Old Ma Collins are like an outpost of the United Nations. They’d put the world to rights all right. No one else would get a word in edgeways. Had a bloke like that in the army. He could talk the hind leg off a donkey. Bit simple he was, but he did half talk. Perkins he was called. Ronald Perkins. Lost a leg he did, but didn’t stop him talking. Reckon if he lost his head he’d still mange to chat away to himself somehow. Lucy: He liked me. Always doing things for me. Enid: Look at the time. Better see where’s Mum’s got to. (Lucy pulls her skirt down again although it doesn’t need it. George Sniffs the air and thinks of roses. Enid walks indoors to look for Nellie. Silence.) End of Scene Four. Act One. Scene Five. After twelve o’clock and in the garden. George and Nellie are sitting on the green garden bench. George is looking around at his flowers and Nellie is looking through the book of verse. Nellie: Can’t see what she sees in all this poetry stuff. Ever since she started at the office, she’s had her head in a book every minute she can spare. George: These flowers need watering. This heat dries them out. Nellie: Catch me with my head in a book. More important thing to do with my time. Girls of her class don’t read poetry. Lot of nonsense. Needs to get her head down and find herself a husband or she’ll end up an old maid she will. No one will want her once she’s passed thirty-five. Stale goods they’ll reckon. George: Only watered them this morning. I know I shouldn’t, but they seemed to need it. And they seem to need it again. Bloody heat. Nellie: Blokes in my day wouldn’t look at a woman once she was passed her prime. My dad reckoned any woman still unmarried after that was either untouched or untouchable. Best avoided anyway. So he reckoned. That Miriam Gold for example. Forty-four and never been kissed. Then all of a sudden, she’s off with this clergyman and living it up on the South of France. What a carry on I ask you. Forty-four. (Pause. Opens the book and skips a few pages.)There’s some as say she wasn’t no virgin. That she’d been about a bit, but I never saw her with a bloke before that. Clergyman indeed. And her a Jew too. No accounting for taste. George: Times have changed, Nellie. Things aren’t what they were. (Stands and goes across to the greenhouse. Stops and peers through the glass.)They need watering too. It’s this heat. Like being in the blooding desert. Still can’t complain. Nellie: You are complaining. George: Don’t do any good though does it. No matter how much you moan about something if it doesn’t change, it stays the same. Nellie: Where’s Lucy? George: Went to the loo. Nellie: She’s taking her time. George: What are you timing her? Nellie: No. Just wondered where she was that’s all. George: Those tomatoes are coming along well. Nellie: Thought she might be feeling unwell. This heat does that to some people. Makes them feel unwell. Sally was like that. Bit of sun and she was as sick as a parrot on one leg. And when she fell for her Christopher that summer, she was on the loo longer than a hen on its eggs. Poor mare. It’s a wonder the poor mite wasn’t born in the loo the amount of time his mother sat on it. (Puts the book down on the deckchair. Looks at George as he returns to the bench and sits down.) I can’t bear the heat too much. But if it were raining we’d be complaining, I expect. Never satisfied us British. Always having a moan about something or other. Miserable lot. George: Lucy’s a quiet girl. Don’t say more than she has to. She’s like a miser with her words. If she holds on to her money like she does her words, she’ll be a rich girl by the time she’s twenty. Nellie: She’s shy. She’ll come out when she’s older. They always do. George: That skirts a bit on the short side. Almost up to her backside. Nellie: It’s the fashion. A girl has to keep with the fashion. Don’t want to be out of it all does her. George: A presents more of a surprise if it’s wrapped. Nellie: What’d you mean by that? George: Well, if she shows all she has the blokes aren’t going to get much of a surprise are they. Nellie: George! What’s got into you? You’re getting old and cynical. The girl’s growing up to be a nice young woman, so you leave her be. George: Just saying that’s all. Have to keep an eye out for these young girls; they don’t know the world as we do. There are some funny people about. Nellie: Always has been. I’ve come across a few in my time. George: Wouldn’t want her to come a cropper by mixing with the wrong sort. There are blokes out there who’d see her as she is and think it was their birthday. Nellie: I’ll give them birthday if I catch anyone taking liberties with our Lucy. I’ll make them sing in a higher voice mark my words if I don’t. (Pause.) I remember that Liz Blackbridge, poor soul. Got taken advantage of because she was a bit simple. Didn’t know her backside from her elbow she didn’t. Some cuss of a swine took it into his mind to… (Pause.)Lucy can’t still be in the loo. She must be out by now. (Pause.) George: What are you some kind of time and motion clerk or something? Nellie: Just wondering that’s all. George: Hope our Enid’s got lunch ready my stomach’s rumbling. Nellie: What do you want a servant? Go see for yourself. We don’t wait hand on foot for nobody. George: Hark at you, you lazy mare. If you were a racehorse you’d always come in last. Nellie: If you were the jockey, I’d throw you off every time. George: That sun’s too hot. Look at my flowers. Nellie: You and your flowers. George: Sweltering. Like me they are. Sweltering something rotten. Nellie: Soon be lunch. Where’s Lucy? Where’s the girl got to? (George broods on his flowers. Nellie stares at the doorway in silence.) End of Scene Five. Act One. Scene Six. An hour later in the garden. George, Nellie and Lucy are sitting on the green garden bench with Lucy in between the other two. Enid is in the deckchair with her book open. There is a tray with four cups and saucers on the ground. Enid: Come into the garden, Maud, for the black bat, night, has flown. Nellie: That was sung at the music hall where I danced once upon a time. Enid: It’s from a poem. Nellie: It weren’t a poem then. Some bloke called Peppery Pete sang it amongst other things. Enid: It’s still from a poem. Tennyson wrote it. Nellie: Who? Enid: Tennyson. George: I knew a chap called Tennyson. Albert Tennyson. He was a big feller with large ears. Bit of a card player too. Even at the Front, he played when he got the chance. He reckoned he could hear a shell coming before it had left the gun. Marvellous ears he had. Could hear a pin drop even when the shells were exploding all round us. (Pause. Leans forward to reach his cup of tea, but can’t quite reach it.)Pass my cup over Enid, my throat’s parched. Dry as a dead man's willy. Enid: Dad! We’ve got company. Lucy doesn’t want to hear your crude expressions. George: Oops! Sorry, Lucy. Forgot myself there. Not used to being in the company of a lady. (Sips his tea. Looks at Lucy and smiles weakly.) Nellie: Cheeky blighter. Enid: Take no notice, Lucy. Some of us have manners some of us haven’t. Some of us are trying to improve ourselves. (Pause. Hands around the cups and saucers to Nellie and Lucy, then picks up her own and sips from it.) George: You’re quiet, Lucy. You’ve not said two words to rub together since lunch. Lucy: I was thinking. (Looks at George for few a seconds then looks at Enid.)Nan said you might be going to Ramsgate later this year. (Pause. Looks at her knees.)Nan said to ask you if I could come. I’d pay my way now that I’m working. I’d love to go again. (Raises her eyes shyly to George.)I wouldn’t be any trouble. George: Of course you can come. Love you to be with us. Keep us on our toes. (Pause.) What would your mum say though? Would she mind? Lucy: No. It was she who told me to ask you and Nan about going. Said I needed a break. George: Well there you are then. Ramsgate here we come. Roll out the red carpet. (Pause.)Nice to see the old place again. See what they’ve done to the place since last time we went. Nellie: Not much, I don’t suppose. She’s too tight to spend out much for decorating. And her husband’s too much of a softy to make changes himself. (Sips her tea.) Lucy: He was nice to me. I thought him a gentleman. Enid: I wished I’d come last time. Better than being with that Charlie Flick and his wandering hands. Had to fight him off most of the time. Him and his country walks. It wasn’t walks he was after. Nellie: That moustache of his was a sight. Fair made me want to laugh at the way it went up and down as he spoke. Like a hedgehog on a seesaw. And those cardigans he wore. Wouldn’t be seen dead in them. George: That girl they had working for them was a nice looking girl. What was her name? Nellie: Fay. You should have remembered her name, you spoke to her every spare minute you could. Eyeing her up and down. I saw you. Your eyes out on stoppers every time she went by. (Pause. Looks at George sideways. Then look at head as if disgusted with the memory.)Young enough to be your granddaughter. Don’t understand you men, never will I don’t suppose. Mysterious lot all of you. Glad I never had any sons. Enid: No, only us daughters to send you up the wall and down the other side. (Puts down her cup and saucer and opens her book again.)There’s not a nook within this solemn pass… (Pause.)Those are nice words. Makes you go all funny in the legs. Nellie: Make more than that to make me go funny in the legs. George: You’ve got funny legs anyway. You could earn a fortune walking on the stage with those legs. Nellie: I was dancer I was. Had men at my feet. Waiting at the stage door, they were. Rows of them. Enid: I want to learn more verse by heart so I can quote them to people at work. Lucy: Clarence he said to call him. Call me Clarence he said that time he and I were in his green house. Enid: It shows culture. Shows you want to improve yourself. George: Call kicking your legs in the air dancing? I’ve seen horses do better. Nellie: Could have had my pick of good-looking blokes. And then you came along. Lucy: Showed me his blooms. Enid: I want to be seen to be making an improvement to myself. Don’t want to be an office girl all my life. Want to see things and do things. George: Do things, our Enid? What things? Enid: See the world. See the sights. Go places I’ve never been before. Nellie: There were blokes there I could have had a good life with. Could have been somebody. Lucy: He held my hand once and said how soft and smooth it was. He was ever so gentle. (Pause. Silence falls for a few moments as teas are finished and cups and saucers replaced on the tray.) Enid: I don’t want to be sitting in this garden sipping tea this time next year. I want to have been somewhere and done things. George: Who with? Enid: Well some one who thinks as I do. George: Who? Enid: Robert Hickman, for one. George: Who’s he when he’s at home? Nellie: One of her fancy blokes, I bet, at the office. Lucy: I was nine then. I bet Clarence will be surprised to see me now I’m fifteen. Enid: He’s good taste and manners, what’s wrong with that? George: Nothing wrong with that. Long as he’s not stringing you along for a bit of hanky-panky. I know what blokes are like. Nellie: You thought that Williams bloke was the thing. Welsh buffoon. Enid: He wasn’t Welsh, he was Scottish. Nellie: What’s the different, they’re all foreigners. Lucy: Who’s a foreigner? Nellie: Enid’s old boyfriend. Had a face like a dartboard. Enid: Wasn’t his fault he had spots. Nellie: Spots? He looked as if he’d had the plague. Enid: You’ve never approved of my men friends. George: I thought some of them were quite nice. Especially Jimmy Ashman. He was a bloke I’d have liked as a son-in-law. Nellie: He was one of them funny blokes. Wore his sister’s dresses. Enid: It was something he couldn’t help. He tried. Nellie: Try your dresses on did he? Enid: No. We came to an agreement. We parted as friends. George: I didn’t know that. Trans…something or other isn’t it? Lucy: Did he wear dresses? Enid: Friends don’t tell tales about each other. He was very nice. (Silence. Enid gets up, picks up the tray, and walks indoors all stiff and upright.) Lucy: Who wears his sister’s dresses? Nellie: Never you mind, Lucy, dear. No one you know. George: She’s gone off in a huff now. She’ll sulk for ages. Won’t get a polite word from her now until bedtime. Nellie: Your fault. You and your mouth. George: You brought up about him wearing his sister’s dresses. I said nothing about it. Lucy: Scottish men wear dresses don’t they? Nellie: They’re kilts, Lucy. Not quite the same thing. George: Best keep my mouth shut. Talk about my flowers and the birds. Lucy: I saw one at Waterloo Station. Nellie: Saw what, Lucy? Lucy: Scotsman in a kilt thing. He had hairy legs. Nellie: Just like your grandad. George: Birds keep themselves to themselves. No backchat or moans from them. (Pause. Sits and looks about the garden.) Lucy: He had bushy eyebrows as well. Nellie: Just as well you never saw under his kilt then. Lucy: He was waiting for a train. He looked at me and smiled. Nellie: We had a Scotsman on the stage years ago. Sang all those old songs of Bonny Scotland and If I take the low road and so forth. Drank like a fish. (Smiles to herself.)He kissed me once. It was like kissing a beer barrel. He had hairy legs as well. Must run in the blood. Ginger hair and red cheeks he had. I think he thought I was a bit easy going. But he got it wrong. I wasn’t having any of his old tricks. But he was generous. Took me out for a drink quite few times at some public house he knew. (Stops. Looks at George who is miles away in thought.) I could have lived in Glasgow. He proposed to me one night. I turned him down of course, but it could have been different. I could have been the wife of a foreigner. Lucy: There’s a boy I like near where I live. He’s called Jude. Mum thinks he’s all right, but says I could do better. We kissed last Christmas. Nothing more. Just a kiss. Mum doesn’t know about the kiss. Nothing to write home about. Just a kiss. George: Don’t get many song thrushes round here. Sparrows galore. Blackbirds in their hundreds. But few song thrushes. Strange that. You’d think there’d be more. Nellie: Glasgow’s a right dump so I’ve heard. Edinburgh. That’d be all right. Perhaps he might have gone there if I’d said so. (Pause. Looks at George intently.)Water under the bridge now. Too late to have those thoughts. 1919 that was. Just after the War. You were still away. (Looks away from George. Stares at the flowers near by.) Lucy: Sometimes I think about Jude quite a bit. Nellie: Better see how Enid is. (Gets up from the green garden bench and walks slowly towards the door of the house. She stops and looks back at George. Then she goes indoors.) George: This Jude, do you love him? Lucy: I think about him. Is it love if you think about people? George: Depends what you think about. (Pause. Lucy nods and looks away. George smiles in deep thought and stares at the sky looking for birds.) End of Scene Six. Act One. Scene Seven. An hour later in the garden. Lucy and Enid are sitting on the green garden bench. Enid holds her book in her hands. Enid: I don’t know why I bother trying to improve myself; Mum and Dad seem to think it’s a waste of time. Here I am thirty-three years old unloved and unmarried. Even my future prospects aren’t much to write home about. My three sisters are married with children and here I am becoming an old maid. (Sighs.)Books won’t solve my problem. They won’t make me more attractive or more likely to get a man. But Robert thinks I could make something of myself. He believes in me. He’s the first person to really take an interest in me. The first man to look at me and see more than a bust, legs and a pretty face. (Pause.)If Mum and Dad had their way, I’d be well on the road to spinsterhood. Just because my sisters married young doesn’t mean I won’t get married someday. I will. I know I will. (Looks at the book for a moment then puts down beside her.) What do you think, Lucy? Will I get married one day? Lucy: Yes. I think you will, Aunt Enid. Enid: Good at least you believe in me. Do you want to get married one day? Lucy: I suppose so. Haven’t thought about it. Enid: Too young for you yet. Lucy: Jude is my only boyfriend at the moment. He’s a bit bossy. Says I ought to do this and not to do that. Enid: You don’t want any of that, Lucy. He’ll always boss you about otherwise. Tell him to ease off. Better still; tell him go a take a jump. Lucy: I couldn’t do that. Enid: Why not? Lucy: I just couldn’t. Enid: You’ll learn. Lucy: I like him; he might think me rude. Enid: So what. Let him get used to the idea. Lucy: Then he might not want to see me anymore. Enid: If you’re lucky. Lucy: But I want to see him. I think I love him. Enid: Love is a complicated thing. Avoid that Lucy until you can handle it. Lucy: I am in love, I’m sure. Enid: You only think you’re in love because it sounds good. You only think you’re in love, Lucy. Lucy: But I feel it here. (Points to her breast.)I think about him a lot of the time. I want to be with him as much as possible. Enid: That’s bad. Lucy: Why? Enid: Because you’re too young for that kind of relationship. Lucy: Jude’s nice. Enid: So is chocolate, but I wouldn’t want too much of it. Too sickly.
Copyright © 2005 Terry Collett |