LINDA
Yours?
TREVOR
Not in mine, certainly. Never in a hundred years. (To WILLIAM and NORAH) Would you rather I left?
WILLIAM
Just when you’re beginning to learn the house rules—and play by them? Never!
NORAH
Trevor, we wouldn’t hear of it.
TREVOR
(To LINDA) Would you?
LINDA
Oh, sit down—don’t be a wally—even if you do seem to think your own family so much better than mine!
NORAH
Linda, stop it! This instant! Stop it! Do you hear?
WILLIAM
Turn on me if you like but don’t you dare turn on Trevor. None of this is Trevor’s fault.
TREVOR
Not better. Better behaved, perhaps. Though I don’t mean your mother. And I don’t mean ‘perhaps’. And I don’t mean, either, that it’s necessarily a plus. (Directed at TOM, with a wry grin) Only sometimes.
TOM
But you still think I’m a bastard?
TREVOR
A lot of the time—yes.
TOM
And shall I tell you what I think of you?
NORAH makes a gesture of being about to tear her hair. WILLIAM slides down in his chair and covers his eyes with one hand.
TREVOR
By all means.
TOM
I think you’re more honest than I believed.
After a moment WILLIAM uncovers his eyes. NORAH looks up in disbelief. Even so, during the continuing pause, they await the punchline.
TREVOR
But?
TOM
No buts. I’ve remembered, too, about that thousand pounds.
TREVOR
‘And that makes me so different, does it, to everybody else’?
TOM
(With a smile) It certainly makes you richer. (Smile goes) And it means that at least you don’t just sit and gab.
WILLIAM
All right, Tom. You want actions? You shall have actions.
TOM
WILLIAM
I’m going to do neither. (Bends to take something off the floor)
TOM
Oh, God, he’s offering me his bottom.
WILLIAM
You should be so lucky! I happen, you mutt, to be picking up that gauntlet you’ve thrown down.
TOM
Oh? A duel? To the death? Yippee! Rapiers or pistols?
WILLIAM
Press-ups.
TOM
Oh, no! You fiendish brute! Anything but that! Anything but that! (To LINDA) I suppose you wouldn’t care to take my place?
WILLIAM
Don’t worry: it’s only a one-way duel. Duet for one. All you need do is witness. And eat crow.
TOM
Two-hundred-and-fifty?
WILLIAM
Yes.
TOM
Non-stop?
WILLIAM
Yes.
TOM
Supposing I lose? What, then? What do I have to do?
WILLIAM
So far as you can—soften your attitude. Try not to be such a clever clogs.
TOM
I have to admit: it is rather tempting.
WILLIAM
A deal?
NORAH
You’re not serious?
WILLIAM
Et tu, Norah? Don’t you have any faith left, either?
NORAH
Oh, William, don’t be so foolish. You’d have a heart attack. You’d kill yourself. No. What I think you’d better do—something a lot more useful—is accompany me upstairs, to make up the spare bed.
WILLIAM
After I’ve killed myself. I’ll be with you in spirit. Turning the mattress, tucking in the sheet.
NORAH
No, actually I forbid it…Trevor, would you try to stop him. You’re the only one, I think, whom he might listen to.
Mrs Freeman—I mean Norah—it’s not as if he doesn’t put in lots of practice. It’s not as if he’d be doing it after a long period of…well, of not doing it.
NORAH
But you aren’t making any allowances for…
TREVOR
What?
NORAH
Braggadocio.
TOM
Oy, oy, oy! Now who’s the clever clogs?
NORAH
(Still to TREVOR) Perhaps a little harmless exaggeration, which suddenly mayn’t be quite so harmless.
TREVOR
William, you’re not being forced into anything—and certainly no one’s going to consider you’ve lost face if you decide against it, or if you find you just can’t manage it…But on the other hand I think that somehow it might do us all a spot of good if you did feel like carrying on.
WILLIAM
And afterwards I’ll give you an arm wrestle.
TREVOR
Done! But don’t kid yourself you’ll find it such a pushover. I’m quite a cool hand at arm wrestling.
WILLIAM
We’ll move back this chair here.
TOM
And this one. Let’s give the fellow room.
NORAH
Well, if you suppose I’m going to stop and witness this…(Kisses WILLIAM on the cheek) I think you’re an awful fool but I do love you. Good luck, my darling. Linda, why don’t you come and keep me company; let’s leave these little boys to their games.
LINDA
No, Mum, don’t go. This is important.
NORAH
Important! Why?
LINDA
I’m not sure. Just something inside tells me so.
NORAH
Oh, very well. Never let it be said that I’m as stubborn as…some others I could name.
WILLIAM
Good. Full house. (Rubs his hands in preparation) Right. Right, then. Right.
Limbers up a bit, gets down on the floor, positions himself, does one press-up. Jumps up.
NORAH
Oh, was that it, darling? Very nice. Well then, everyone, good night. It’s been quite a day.
WILLIAM
I want to wipe my nose first. (He does so, then takes off sweater) Ah, that’s better. Trevor, hold this. You can keep it if I don’t come back.
TREVOR
Thanks. I should certainly treasure it. But you’ve got to come back. You haven’t signed my books yet. And that’s only for starters.
TOM
Hush! Christopher Robin is saying his prayers! And while you’re about it, Dad, throw in one for me.
WILLIAM
My son, you mustn’t mock. Isn’t that the whole object of the exercise?
TOM
I’m not mocking—merely hedging my bets. You can see it as the first step towards my not being a Mister Know-It-All.
NORAH
Hallelujah!
TOM
(To WILLIAM) And don’t forget, at the same time, to throw in one about your heart!
NORAH
There is nothing wrong with your father’s heart. Neither physically nor…nor in any other way.
WILLIAM
Bless you. Now, who’s going to count—apart from me?
TREVOR
I will.
NORAH
LINDA
We all will.
TOM.
WILLIAM
Yes, you all count—every one of you! Right, then. Here goes. Final take.
SPECTATORS
One!…two!…three!…four…five…six…
Then the lights fade. We hear them counting in the darkness, their voices gradually receding, until eventually—say, at the count of twelve—everything is silent and the play is over.
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to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1985 by Stephen Benatar
Cover design by Gabriela Sahagun
ISBN: 978-1-4976-9388-3
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