Collected Plays and Teleplays (Irish Literature) (32 page)

PETER:
Feth, Annie, I think ye’re right.

ANNIE:
Ye can have waar . . . on wan farm.

PETER:
Aye, indeed. In wan house. Wan brother killin’ another to get the land.

ANNIE:
Or slaughterin’ his own faather.

PETER:
God look down on us.

ANNIE:
As I tould ye many a time, Pether, I don’t like that man of ours Mick Rourke.

PETER:
Well what can we do? Shure I’m hardly fit to take the top off an egg. Lord save us, I can hardly move a leg in the mornin’.

ANNIE:
All the same, that Mick fella is . . . very sley. You couldn’t tell what he’s thinkin’ about.

PETER:
He does a day’s work all the same.

ANNIE:
With over twenty hens out there, how is it they can only manage six eggs between them!

PETER:
D’ye think Mick is puttin’ eggs by and sellin’ them?

ANNIE:
He might be up to more than yon. I’m goin’ to count those hens tomorra.

PETER:
Ah no, Annie, he’s too fley to do a thing like that. Far too fley.

ANNIE:
God I don’t know. Manys the thing he’d do an’ not let on. Ah, heigh-ho. . . .

PETER:
They say a waar gives the people work, but. Factories everywhere makin’ all classes of bums an’ boollets.

ANNIE:
Aye . . . an’ coffins.

PETER:
No, Annie, they don’t bo’er about coffins in a waar.

ANNIE:
I suppose they don’t, Pether. Just shovel them all into wan big hole.

PETER:
This Frinch crowd I wouldn’t trust very far. They done wurselves no good in ‘98. (
Mutters.
)

The Frinch are in the bay,
Says the Shan Van Vocht,
They’ll be here without delay,
Says the Shan Van Vocht,
They’ll come in from the say,
They’ll anchor at the kay,
And we’ll have them here for tay,
Says the Shan Van Vocht.

ANNIE:
Dear-O. They’re great men to fight, all the see-em.

(
Suddenly there is a noise as the door is flung noisily open. Framed in it is a youngish man—a much older
HUGHIE
.
He is gaudily overdressed and has a bowler in his hand. A gold watch-chain spans his waistcoat. He stares in, smiling.
)

ANNIE:
Hughie! (
She jumps up.
)

PETER:
Well God Almighty! Well, well. (
He struggles to his feet, wincing from the pain.
)

HUGHIE:
Lord bliss us! The old folks at home!

(
He advances into the kitchen and shakes hands with his parents. His air is jaunty and though he has by no means lost his northern accent, it is overlaid by a drawling American tone. They all sit down again.
ANNIE
is anxious,
PETER
just astonished.
)

ANNIE:
Well Hughie, God bliss ye and welcome back. . . . How are ye gettin’ on?

HUGHIE:
Aw, just graund.

PETER:
Be the sufferin’ saints, Hughie . . . ye’re . . . a new man. Lord I’d hardly know ye!

HUGHIE:
(
Laughing.
) Ah now, I’ve not changed that much.

ANNIE:
Ye’re gettin’ brave an’ fat.

HUGHIE:
Well thanks bit a God I’ve had plenty to eat. Not a bo’er on me.

PETER:
Why didn’t ye write, Hughie?

HUGHIE:
Well, I did write.

ANNIE:
Just two wee letters . . . years an’ years ago.

HUGHIE:
Well, I was movin’ round, d’ye see. I’d no address for a long time, ye might say.

PETER:
A rollin’ stone, ye might say. Well, this country of ours here may be a fine country but it’s a wee Country. An’ the States is brave an’ large.

HUGHIE:
Ye could put Ireland ten times into Texas. Aye, an’ fifteen times. Texas is where they have the oil. Pitrol an’ all that sort of thing.

PETER:
Aye indeed. An’ cowboys an’ prairies.

ANNIE:
Hughie, will ye have a wee cup of tea, an’ a couple of rashers. An’ we have any God’s amount of eggs.

HUGHIE:
No, ma. Not just now. I had a bit of a dinner about an hour ago in the town. Ye want to keep yerself in right shape when ye’re drivin’ a car.

PETER:
A car, Hughie? Ye don’t mean to say ye have a motor?

HUGHIE:
(
Smiling.
) Aye indeed. A graund Ford. I haven’t been lettin’ the grass grow under me feet.

ANNIE:
Pether, have ye a wee bottle in the house at all?

PETER:
Well, maybe there might be wan in the house somewhere. In this damp part of the world we have to be on guard against heavy colds, d’ye onderstaund. (
Rises.
)

ANNIE:
Well away an’ get it. We all deserve a wee toast when Hughie comes home. (
PETER
,
nodding, leaves room.
)

ANNIE:
Hughie, what trade are ye in across in America?

HUGHIE:
Trade? I’m in no trade, woman dear.

ANNIE:
Well, yer Ford motor . . .

(
PETER
re-appears with bottle of colourless content.
ANNIE
rises to get glasses from kitchen press.
)

HUGHIE:
(
Laughing easily.
) There’s more ways than bein’ in a trade for makin’ the dollars.

PETER:
Lord, Hughie, I’m proud that a son o’mine should be able to meet the Yankees face to face. Were ye in the cattle business?

HUGHIE:
Not at all, man. Oil. Pitrol. This is a new age. The motor is the great thing now . . . for today . . . en’ tomorra . . . an’ for centuries.

(
ANNIE
has placed the glasses on the table, and
PETER
has measured out three generous doses of poteen. They all re-seat themselves, glass in hand. They silently raise the glasses as the camera quickly but minutely examines the grimace on each face as the liquor is encountered.
)

HUGHIE:
I’m home for two months. An’ then I’m off again to make the second half of me fortune.

ANNIE:
Well, may God watch over ye, Hughie.

PETER:
An’ bring ye back safe.

HUGHIE:
Here’s luck to us all.

(
There is a noise as the door is put in to reveal the disreputable person of
PACKY
the Tramp. He is cheerful and jaunty, and calls out as he closes the door——
)

PACKY:
God save all here for goodness sake!

ANNIE:
Hello, Packy.

PACKY:
Lord bliss us, that’s not watter ye have.

PETER:
Get yerself a cup, Packy.

(
PACKY
does so, from the dresser.
)

PACKY:
Well, ‘clare to God I didn’t notice it first but I see ye have company here.

(
HUGHIE
looks at him idly.
)

PACKY:
I hope I’m not intrudin’, Pether, d’ye onderstaund.

PETER:
Ye’re welcome Packy. Here, have a wee drop of this stuff.

(
PACKY
holds out cup.
)

PACKY:
With the motor outsidd I thought maybe it was the doctor or somebody.

HUGHIE:
Ye don’t know yer own friends, Packy.

(
PACKY
,
close-up, staring.
)

PACKY:
Lord save us! It’s Hughie!

ANNIE:
Of course it’s Hughie.

PACKY:
‘Clare to God it is! Well, my-O!

HUGHIE:
Ye’d think I was a ghost or something.

PACKY:
Well, I never heard tell of ye after ye went away, Hughie. Ye might as well have been in Kingdom Come.

HUGHIE:
I was in a better place, Packy. I was in the States. God’s own country.

PETER:
Well, ye were away a brave wee while.

PACKY:
Ye’re a sight for sore eyes an’ that’s a fact. Wait till I tell the people about this. . . .

ANNIE:
What time will ye have yer tea, Hughie?

HUGHIE:
Aw, not for a few hours. I’m off for a walk.

PACKY:
Maybe I’ll be a bit of the way with ye, Hughie.

HUGHIE:
Ye needn’t bo’er yourself, Packy. I’m goin’ for to make a call. Just to drop in on an ould friend an’ give her the surprise of her life.

ANNIE:
(
Startled.
) Is it Shiela, Hughie?

HUGHIE:
Aye, indeed.

PETER:
Ah man dear, Hughie . . . ye can’t do that.

HUGHIE:
Can’t do that? Who says I can’t do that?

ANNIE:
Hughie . . . yon poor girl Shiela . . . she’s not there.

HUGHIE:
She’s not there? And where is she? Don’t tell me she’s gone away . . . or—Lord!—don’ tell me she’s married.

PACKY:
Ah Hughie, me poor man.

ANNIE:
(
Softly.
) Hughie, Shiela’s in heaven.

HUGHIE:
(
Aghast
.) What? Where?

ANNIE:
The poor girl died five years ago.

PETER:
(
Gently.
) Aye, Hughie, she’s dead.

HUGHIE:
Oh my God!

(
Elbows on his knees, he buries his face in his hands.
PACKY
retrieves
HUGHIE’S
glass and replenishes it from
PETER’S
bottle.
)

HUGHIE:
Ah, the poor girl. Dead. Dear O. . . .

PETER:
But she never forgot ye, Hughie. The whole country knows that.

ANNIE:
I know it’s a hard blow for ye, Hughie. God pity ye. Things like that happen in this world. It would break yer heart.

PETER:
But as you know, Hughie . . . ye’ll meet her again. Thank God there’ll be an end to all our troubles wan day.

HUGHIE:
(
Still stooped and near tears.
) And to think I came all this way to meet her . . . and marry her . . . and take her away with me. . . .

ANNIE:
Have another wee drink, Hughie.

HUGHIE:
An’ to find she’s in her grave.

PACKY:
A wee drink will help ye to bear up, Hughie.

HUGHIE:
Yes, Packy. (
Raises his head and takes glass.
) An’ now I’ve no business here at all. I’ve no call to be here. Shiela’s gone from here. It’s time I was gone meself.

PETER:
Ah now, Hughie, try to keep yer heart up. . . . This farm, I needn’t tell ye, will be yours. Ye’ll get another nice girl yet.

ANNIE:
Aye surely.

HUGHIE:
There’s nothing or nobody here for me now.

PACKY:
Ah Hughie, man, cheer up. It’s not the end of the world yet.

HUGHIE:
Nobody and nothing. I’ll go away.

ANNIE:
Now, Hughie. . . .

HUGHIE:
This time for good. For good an’ all.

PETER:
Ye’ll stay here the night, Hughie. Sure ye’re only after walkin’ into the house after fifteen years. Ye must think of me an’ yer mo’er.

HUGHIE:
Here’s me last drink to ye. I wish ye the best of luck. (
He drinks deeply.
) An’ I hope ye wish me luck too, for I’m thinkin’ I’ll need it.

ANNIE:
For God’s sake ye’re not goin’ to walk out that door now, Hughie?

HUGHIE:
I am, faith.

PETER:
For pity’s sake, Hughie, don’t be daft.

ANNIE:
Is the drink affectin’ him, Pether?

HUGHIE:
(
Going to the door.
) No, it’s not the drink. Ye know why I must go.

PACKY:
Hughie . . . !

HUGHIE:
(
Raising his hand in the doorway.
) May God bliss ye all an’ keep ye.

(
He is gone. The three characters maintain their positions, motionless.
VOICE
is heard again:
)

THE END