Humble Boy Page 2

  Felix Yes. Till the end of summer. Yes.

  Jim Good lad. It can be our little secret.

  Felix I’d better get in now.

  Jim Yes. There’s quite a gathering in there.

  Felix They’ll want to see me.

  Felix stumbles away, perhaps steadying himself on the hive as he goes. He looks back at Jim.

  Jim Nice talking to you, Felix.

  Felix nods and exits. Jim starts to hoe around the rose plant.

  SCENE TWO

  A beautiful sunny day in midsummer. The summer solstice. About two weeks after the funeral.

  Jim picks up his gardening implements and exits. As he does so, George Pye enters. Jim looks at him but George does not return the glance. George is a beefy, well-built man of about sixty. He has a large portable CD Walkman on and he carries a jug of Pimms or the equivalent. The headphones are very large. Music – Glen Miller’s ‘In the Mood’ – plays quietly. He puts the jug down.

  George (he shouts towards the house, rather too loud) Out here, bunny!

  He turns his Walkman up. We hear ‘In the Mood’ more clearly. He stretches luxuriantly. He pours himself a Pimms, he is already jiggling along to the music. He dances absently around the garden, banging out percussion on the hive. He comes to the rose bush. He tries to pick a rose off the bush. A thorn pricks him.

  Bugger. Bloody bugger it. (He sucks his finger, then rips the flower from the bush.) Got you, you swine.

  He places the rose on the hammock. He checks in his pocket, takes out a ring box. He puts it back in his pocket. This gives him a burst of energy. His moves become more exuberant. He is definitely ‘in the mood’, dancing as if no one were observing him. He starts conducting the plants of the garden, as if he were Glen Miller. He brings some garden furniture out and sets it up, dancing all the while. Flora enters. She looks radiant in cream. She watches George, amused in spite of herself. He spots her.

  Flora George. What are you doing?

  George Bunny!

  He grabs her and swings her into a jive. For a moment they dance well together. But she is reluctant and tries to stop him after a few extravagant moves.

  Flora (laughing) Stop it, George.

  George Can’t hear you, bun.

  Flora You great fool! I can’t even hear the music.

  George Don’t need to. Just follow me, bunny.

  Flora What if someone saw us – stop it – what if Felix…? Turn, it off.

  He turns it off. Takes it from his waistband. The music stops.

  George He’s still here, is he?

  Flora Apparently he intends to stay till the end of summer.

  George After what he did to you at the funeral. The little shit.

  Flora He is my – I can’t – anyway, he doesn’t seem … himself.

  George snorts in response. He pours her a glass of Pimms. Flora sits, rearranges herself, undoes a button to catch more sun. She looks at the CD player.

  Flora Is that your new toy?

  George It’s bloody excellent, isn’t it? I even wear it when I’m driving.

  Flora Isn’t that illegal?

  George Bollocks! I’m going hi-tec, bun. Stereo, On-Digital, widescreen, DVD, that’s me.

  Flora No holding you back.

  George Rosie bought it for me. I tell you, it comes to something when it’s your child telling you to turn your music down.

  Flora I take it she’s not a fan of the big band.

  George Christ no! I love her to bits but she’s like her mother. Born without an ounce of swing.

  Flora laughs. Pause.

  George This is good, Flora. Being out here with you.

  Flora Yes.

  George I could get used to this. Flora –

  Flora (interrupting) You haven’t said anything, George.

  George Eh?

  Flora The bruising’s completely gone down now.

  George What?

  Flora My nose.

  George (mock surprise) Bloody hell!

  Flora What?

  George It’s magnificent!

  Flora You hadn’t even noticed.

  George I had. I was just savouring it. It’s bloody tremendous. It’s positively Roman.

  Flora It’s not Roman. I didn’t ask for Roman.

  George When I say Roman, I mean … Neopolitan.

  Flora Neopolitan?

  George Yes! The Neopolitan nose is soft, with delicately flared nostrils and a certain very appealing button-mushroom quality. As far as noses go, it’s a bloody classic. It’s the Lamborghini of noses.

  Flora Yes, but is it me?

  George Let me see … And the other side. Yes. It’s definitely you.

  Flora I mean, does it suit me?

  George You’re a vision of loveliness.

  Flora I don’t think I like it.

  George Oh bun! After all that.

  Flora Oh, I mean the nose is fine. The nose is quite pleasing, but I’m not sure if my face lives up to it. Somehow it makes the rest of me look – tired. I might need a little lift.

  She pulls her skin back and up. George takes her hand away.

  George You look fine to me.

  Flora Well, you’re biased. Hand me my cream before my wrinkles reach the point of no return.

  George Let me. (He puts sun-cream on her face.)

  Flora Ah yes, anoint me. That’s nice.

  George Oh Flora.

  Flora Please don’t get ardent, George. It’s only half past twelve.

  George You know what I want, damn it. I know it’s too soon, but, I mean bloody hell. I’ve been waiting in the wings for a long time now.

  Flora I know.

  George And it doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m not a back-seat driver, Flora. It’s a terrible shame, a shock about James and everything but you’ve been worrying about telling him for so long, I think we should just do it. Grab it by the balls. We can wait a few months, but let’s not piss about, the sooner the better, bun. Anyway I’ve already got you the ring.

  Flora Really?

  George I’ll make you bloody happy. The words ‘pig’ and ‘shit’ spring to mind. In a more classy sort of way.

  Flora You’re such a romantic, George.

  George How do you want me to do it? On bended knee?

  Flora Please don’t, George, you might never get up again.

  George I’ll swing from the ruddy trees if you want. Shout it from the rooftops, thatched or otherwise.

  Flora This is a small place, George.

  George I don’t give a bishop’s bollock what anyone thinks.

  Flora George!

  George I mean bloody hell, Flora. It’s not as if you were happy with him.

  Flora Please don’t talk about that.

  George He was dull. You told me he was dull.

  Flora That was the wrong word to use.

  George Look, lover, we’ve both paid our dues and neither of us is getting any younger.

  Flora I don’t need reminding of that.

  George (pleadingly) Bunny, please …

  Flora Show me the ring.

  He takes the box out. She looks at it.

  George It’s a black opal. Bloody unusual, apparently. I can change it if you don’t like it.

  Flora Is it old?

  George Antique.

  Flora Mm. What sort of ring did Mary have?

  George I don’t remember, it was years ago, some cheap thing, we were completely brassic at the time –

  Flora I’m not ready for another ring.

  George It’s not Mary’s ring. Rosie has that.

  Flora I don’t like the idea of someone having worn it before.

  George I can change it, get a new one. I knew I should have let you choose. I’ve got bugger-all taste.

  Flora A diamond might have been nicer. (She closes the ring box and hands it back to him.)

  George Is this a no?

  Flora No. I’ll have to think.

  George Is this a provisional yes?
>
  Flora We’d have to wait a bit. Till after – till the end of summer.

  George You’re a star.

  Flora You’d have to make an effort. With Felix. I know he’s – but I don’t want any more upset. I can’t take it.

  George I like Felix. We just got off on the wrong foot.

  Flora What about Rosie?

  George She wants what I want.

  Flora But after what happened between her and Felix?

  George Water under the proverbial.

  Flora I haven’t ever spoken to Rosie. Properly, I mean.

  George Rosie’s not a problem. She wants her old dad to be happy. They’re both old enough and wise enough –

  Flora Yes, I suppose so.

  George We’ll have a little party, invite them all.

  Flora Nothing showy.

  George No, no, discreet. My middle name.

  Flora Yes. It’s about time we all got civilised.

  George Absolutely.

  Flora This is not a yes.

  George gets the rose he picked earlier and gives it to her.

  George It’s enough.

  She takes the rose, smiles and smells it. Felix enters the garden. He watches his mother. He is wearing his cricket whites but with an old-fashioned coloured tank top over them.

  Flora That’s funny.

  George What?

  Flora Doesn’t smell of anything.

  He takes the flower and smells it.

  George ’Course it does.

  Flora No. It doesn’t. (She goes to the bush, smells the rest of the flowers.)

  Felix Mother?

  Flora Felix! Darling. You made me jump. Come and join us. Felix, you remember George Pye, Rosie’s father?

  Felix Yes. I do.

  George Felix. I was just offering my condolences. I’m very sorry about your father’s –

  Felix Yes.

  Flora Thank you, George. (to Felix) You’re back very early.

  Felix Half-day closing.

  Flora On a Monday?

  Felix Jean is a very whimsical woman.

  She looks at him oddly.

  Flora What is that top you’re wearing?

  Felix Perk of the job.

  Flora It doesn’t suit you, darling. Felix has been helping Mercy out at the charity shop. I’m not sure why.

  Felix Apparently I’m a natural. Jean says I’ve got a job for life, if I want. I shifted more in two hours than Mercy does in a week.

  George Oh yes?

  Felix But then it’s for a good cause. The Romanian orphans. And I have a particular affinity with them, being half way to orphan status myself. I like the secondhand nature of it all. Used goods do have a special appeal all of their own, don’t they? (He spots the jug of drink.) Ah, nectar! It’s a scorcher today, isn’t it? Of course it’s the summer solstice. The longest day. It’s all downhill from now on. (He helps himself to a drink.)

  Flora (a slight edge) You’re very honey-tongued today, Felix … But I think you should calm yourself, don’t you?

  Felix Oh I am calm. I am wonderful. And you are looking ravishing, Mother, if I may say so.

  Flora Thank you.

  Felix Not even a hint of widow’s weeds.

  Flora laughs.

  Flora (a little forced) He’s only joking.

  Felix Oh yes, it’s all in jest. Now how are you? How is your fleet, George Pye?

  George What?

  Felix Pye’s Coaches.

  George Well, I’m semi-retired now. Some other bugger does the dog work for me. I still do the odd Oxford run though, if we’re short. I’m not proud. Can’t quite hang up the old driving gloves, you see.

  Felix No, I bet you can’t. What was the legend now? ‘Travel Pye –’ don’t tell me – ‘travel Pye –’

  George (pleased) ‘– if you want to fly.’ ‘Travel Pye if you want to fly.’

  Felix Ah yes. A fleet of Flying Pyes. Did you come up with that?

  George I did, as a matter of fact.

  Felix Genius. Absolutely inspired.

  George Thank you very much.

  Felix Only thing is, I remember being rather disappointed the first time I travelled on one of your coaches. It was all curiously earthbound, you see. Not at all P–pye-in-the-sky-ish. But then you weren’t driving. Perhaps they needed George himself at the helm to really make them lift off.

  Flora It’s just as well, Felix. You don’t really have a head for heights.

  George When are you going back to your – erm, studies?

  Flora He hasn’t completely decided, have you? A little break will do him good.

  George Astrology, isn’t it?

  Felix What?

  George Your bag. Astrology.

  Felix No.

  Flora It’s like astrology, darling. It’s not a million miles away.

  Felix Theoretical astrophysics. I think the differences between the two could be measured in light years.

  George It’s all the same to me.

  Flora And me. But he’s a clever boy.

  George Don’t believe in it myself, anyway.

  Felix What?

  George Horoscopes. A load of balls.

  Felix Really? I bet you’re a Taurean then, aren’t you?

  George (as if he is getting the joke) Ah! Yes! Good one.

  Felix Yes, definitely Taurus, the b–bull. Born in the month of May. When’s your birthday, George Pye? When’s his b–birthday, Mother?

  Flora Well, you know, it is May. It is May, isn’t it, George? But you could be on the cusp.

  Felix Bullseye. Perhaps you’re right, George Pye. Perhaps astrology is, after all, my b–bag. Here I was thinking that all the other sciences were woolly and descriptive, that there was something p–pure and exact and fundamental about theoretical physics, that it would unveil for me the secrets of the universe but now I see I was mistaken. I should have got myself a sparkly waistcoat and a pair of coloured contact lenses and started b–bandying a few predictions about. At the summer solstice, with the happy conjunction of Venus and Saturn, all Taureans born on the cusp will find themselves going out on a romantic limb.

  Flora Stop it, Felix.

  George Look, son –

  Felix I am not your son. Did you know my father well?

  George In passing … Your father was a very decent man.

  Felix Decent. Decent? Yes. I’m compiling a list of adjectives, you see. My father’s true nature is proving very difficult to pin down. Decent. Upright. Upstanding. Clean-living. Respectable. But not b–brave, no, we wouldn’t go as far as b–brave. No, brave doesn’t come into it. Just outside the spectrum. Although there is passion there, yes, give him his dues, he was passionate about his bees.

  Flora Felix. I want you to stop this now. I am asking you nicely.

  George Don’t worry, Flora. I must be on the road.

  Felix The Egyptians believed the first bee was created from a teardrop of the sun god, Ra. Did you know that, George Pye?

  George No, I didn’t. Thank you for the drink, Flora.

  Felix The sun cried bees. I like that. One minute it’s raining cats and dogs. The next it’s shining bees. You could say it about today, couldn’t you? It’s shining bees. Except technically the bees have gone, banished by my mother. The bee-loud glade is suddenly beeless. Apparently sans bee.

  Flora I don’t know why he’s suddenly so attached to the idea of the bees. You used to be more against them than me.

  Felix No I didn’t.

  Flora You hated the noise, the droning, while you were studying. And you point-blank refused to eat any more honey.

  George I ought to be going. Just a ‘flying visit’.

  Flora Yes. Yes. I’ll see you out, George. I’m sorry about this.

  Felix Don’t forget your flower, Mother. It’s already beginning to wilt.

  Flora Don’t push your luck, Felix Humble.

  Felix I wasn’t aware I was lucky, Mother.

  Flora takes the rose and exits. George foll
ows her.

  Fly, Mr Pye, fly.

  George turns round sharply. Flora has gone.

  George I don’t give a shit if you piss your life away but you keep away from my daughter. You’ve fucked her life up once already and you’re not doing it again.

  Felix (quietly) No.

  George exits. Felix walks upstage. There is a very quiet humming sound. He reacts to it, as if it were tinnitus in his ears.

  Oh no. Please.

  Flora comes back on.

  Ma.

  She sees that George has left his CD player behind. She tuts and picks it up, then sits and puts the headphones on and turns the CD player on. We hear music quietly: Glen Miller’s ‘Don’t Sit under the Apple Tree’. Perhaps she mouths the words to the song. There is a lighting change. It is as though time slows down for a moment. She cannot hear Felix.

  Ma, I keep dreaming that I am at home and I am a baby and you place me on the lawn. Ever so gently you place me down on my tummy. On the lush, green grass. And you are smiling and I am complete. And then suddenly it shifts and I am like I am now. And I lie myself down on the grass on my stomach and it is green and cool and it takes my weight. And I p–place a gun in my mouth. It stops the kickb–back this way. I know this. And I want to b–blow my b–brains into a thousand p–particles. I want to see the green lawn turn red. And I look at you standing there above me. And you are smiling.

  Suddenly Flora senses him still near her. She switches off the music. The humming continues quietly.

  Flora Felix, don’t lurk.

  Felix The grass is so green this year, isn’t it, Ma?

  Flora I’m not speaking to you!

  Flora takes the CD player off and exits with it. Felix is left on his own. Slowly the humming sound builds. Now it is as though time is speeding up.

  Felix No, please. I can’t b–bear it. I can’t –

  He goes upstage to where the hosepipe is snaked. He picks it up and slowly he places it round his neck. The humming increases to a terrible pitch. He pulls the hose tight. He feels what this feels like. Time passes.

  SCENE THREE

  Mid-July.

  Jim comes on. He is carrying a tray of seedlings and some compost, and a trowel. He proceeds during the scene to plant the seedlings in pots. He is whistling ‘Don’t Sit under the Apple Tree’. He looks at Felix. Felix sees him. He is embarrassed. The humming stops. Felix looses the hose from around his neck.