Free Brian Friel Plays 2 by Brian Friel Page B

I couldn’t remember even the simplest words. Not thatanybody seemed to notice. And you can always point, Margaret, can’t you?
    Maggie Or make signs.
    Jack Or make signs.
    Maggie Or dance.
    Kate What you must do is read a lot – books, papers, magazines, anything. I read every night with young Michael. It’s great for his vocabulary.
    Jack I’m sure you’re right, Kate. I’ll do that, ( to Chris ) I haven’t seen young Michael today, Agnes.
    Kate Christina, Jack.
    Jack Sorry, I –
    Chris He’s around there somewhere. Making kites, if you don’t mind.
    Jack And I have still to meet your husband.
    Chris I’m not married.
    Jack Ah.
    Kate Michael’s father was here a while ago … Gerry Evans … Mr Evans is a Welshman … not that that’s relevant to …
    Jack You were never married?
    Chris Never.
    Maggie We’re all in the same boat, Jack. We’re hoping that you’ll hunt about and get men for all of us.
    Jack ( to Chris ) So Michael is a love-child?
    Chris I – yes – I suppose so …
    Jack He’s a fine boy.
    Chris He’s not a bad boy.
    Jack You’re lucky to have him.
    Agnes We’re all lucky to have him.
    Jack In Ryanga women are eager to have love-children. The more love-children you have, the more fortunate your household is thought to be. Have you other love-children?
    Kate She certainly has not, Jack; and strange as it may seem to you, neither has Agnes nor Rose nor Maggie nor myself. No harm to Ryanga but you’re home in Donegal now and much as we cherish love-children here they are not exactly the norm. And the doctor says if you don’t take exercise your legs will seize up on you; so I’m going to walk you down to the main road and up again three times and then you’ll get your tea and then you’ll read the paper from front to back and then you’ll take your medicine and then you’ll go to bed. And we’ll do the same thing tomorrow and the day after and the day after that until we have you back to what you were. You start off and I’ll be with you in a second. Where’s my cardigan?
    Jack goes out to the garden. Kate gets her cardigan.
    Michael Some of Aunt Kate’s forebodings weren’t all that inaccurate. Indeed some of them were fulfilled before the Festival of Lughnasa was over.
    She was right about Uncle Jack. He had been sent home by his superiors, not because his mind was confused, but for reasons that became clearer as the summer drew to a close.
    And she was right about losing her job in the local school. The parish priest didn’t take her back when the new term began; although that had more to do with Father Jack than with falling numbers.
    And she had good reason for being uneasy about Rose – and, had she known, about Agnes, too. But what shecouldn’t have foreseen was that the home would break up quite so quickly and that when she would wake up one morning in early September both Rose and Agnes would have left for ever.
    At this point in Michael’s speech Jack picks up two pieces of wood, portions of the kites, and strikes them together. The sound they make pleases him. He does it again – and again – and again. Now he begins to beat out a structured beat whose rhythm gives him pleasure. And as Michael continues his speech, Jack begins to shuffle-dance in time to his tattoo – his body slightly bent over, his eyes on the ground, his feet moving rhythmically. And as he dances – shuffles, he mutters – sings – makes occasional sounds that are incomprehen sible and almost inaudible. Kate comes out to the garden and stands still, watching him. Rose enters. Now Rose and Maggie and Agnes are all watching him – some at the front door, some through the window. Only Chris has her eyes closed, her face raised, her mouth slightly open; remembering. Michael continues without stopping:
    But she was wrong about my father. I suppose their natures were so out of tune that she would always be wrong about my father. Because he did come back in a couple of weeks as he said he