The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore

THE STAGE IS BLACKED OUT: INTERMISSION

  SCENE FIVE

  The terrace of the white villa the following morning: mrs GO-FORTH is standing on the terrace while dictating to blackie, who sits at a small table. Above the table and about the balustrade are cascades of bougainvillaea: coins of gold light, reflected from the sea far below, flicker upon the playing area, which is backed by fair sky. There has been a long, reflective pause in the dictation. mrs goforth stands glaring sombrely out at the sea.

  MRS goforth: Blackie, I want to begin this chapter on a more serious note. [She moves around right of the table. Then emphatically and loudly.] meaning of life! blackie: Dictation?

  mrs goforth: Not yet, wait, don't rush me. [Repeats in a softer tone: 'meaning of Life...')

  [chris appears at afar end of the terrace. He wears the Samurai robe, blackie sees him but mrs goforth doesn't: blackie indicates by gesture that he should not approach yet'.] Yes, I feel this chapter ought to begin with a serious comment on the meaning of life, because, y'know, sooner or later, a person's obliged to face it. blackie: Dictating, now, Mrs Goforth? mrs goforth: No, no, thinking - reflecting, I'll raise my hand when I begin the dictation.

  [She raises a jewelled hand to demonstrate the signal that she will use.] blackie: Begin now?

  [chris smiles at her tone of voice: blackie shrugs and closes

  her notebook: rises quietly and goes up to chris for a smoke.]

  MRS goforth: One time at Flora's Folly which was the

  name of the sixteenth-century coach-house, renovated, neat

  Paris where I had my salon, my literary evenings, I brought

  up that question, 'What is the meaning of Life?' And do

  you know they treated it like a joke? Ha ha, very funny,

  Sissy can't be serious 1 - but she was, she was....

  SCENE FIVE

  179

  chris: I think she's started dictating. Is there something to eat?

  blackie: Black coffee and saccharine tablets.

  chris: That's all?!

  blac kie: Soon as I get a chance I'll raid the kitchen for you.

  MRS goforth [almost plaintively]: Why is it considered ridiculous, bad taste, mauvais gout, to seriously consider and discuss the possible meaning of life and only stylish to assume it's just - what? [The stage assistants have come out of the wings.]

  one: Charade. Game.

  two [tossing a spangled ball to his partner]: Pastime.

  one [tossing the ball back]: Flora's Folly.

  one [same action]: Accident of atoms.

  rwo[same action]: Resulting from indiscriminate copulation. [blackie tosses her cigarette away and returns to her former position. The stage assistants withdraw^

  mrs goforth: I've often wondered but I've wondered more lately: meaning of life.

  [The stage assistants reappear with a small table and two chairs: wait in the wings for the moment to place them.] - Sometimes I think, I suspect, that everything that we do is a way of- not thinking about it. Meaning of life, and meaning of death, too ... what in hell are we doing? [Raises her jewelled hand.] Just going from one goddam frantic distraction to another, till finally one too many goddam frantic distractions leads to disaster, and black out? Eclipse of, total of, sun ? [She keeps staring out from the terrace, her head turning slowly right and left, into the swimming gold light below her, murmuring to herself, nodding a little, then shaking her head a little: her small jewelled hands appear to be groping blindly for something: she coughs from time to time!] - There's a fog coming in. See it over there, that fog coming in?

  blackie: No. It's perfectly clear in all directions this morning.

  Mrs goforth: When I woke up this morning, I said to myself-

  blackie: Dictation?

  mrs goforth: Shut up - I said to myself, Oh, God, not

  180 THE MILK TRAIN DOESN'T STOP HERE ANYMORE

  morning again, oh, no, no, I can't bear it. But I did, I bore it. - You really don't see that mist coming in out there?

  blaCkIe [closing her notebook]: - Mrs Goforth, the young man in the pink villa, Mr Flanders, is waiting out here to see you. He has on the Samurai robe you gave him to wear while his clothes are being repaired and it's very becoming to him.

  mrs goforth: Call him over.

  blackie: Mr Flanders!

  mrs goforth: Hay, Samurai! Bonsai!

  [Approaching, be ducks under a brilliant cascade of bougainvillaea vine.]

  blackie: You certainly had a long sleep.

  Chris: Did I ever!

  mrs goforth: DID he ever, ho ho. He slept round the clock but still has romantic shadows under his eyes I There was a chorus girl in the Follies - I used to be in the Follies, before my first marriage - when she'd show up with circles under her eyes, she'd say, 'The blackbirds kissed me last night' meaning she's been too busy to sleep that night, ho ho....

  chris: I was busy sleeping, just sleeping. [He bends over her band.]

  mrs goforth: No, no, none of that stuff. Old Georgia swamp-bitches don't go in for hand-kissing but - setzen sie doon, and - Are you coming out here for battle with that sword on?

  Chris: Oh. No, but - I ran into a pack of wild dogs on the mountain, yesterday, when I climbed up here.

  mrs goforth: Yes, I heard about your little misunderstanding with the dogs. You don't seem much the worse for it. You're lucky they didn't get at - [grins wickedly] - your face.

  chris: I'm sorry if it disturbed you, but their bite was worse than their bark.

  mrs goforth: The Italians call them Lupos which means wolves, these watchdogs: they're necessary for the protection of estates like this, but - didn't you notice the 'Private Property' sign in English and Italian, and the 'Beware of Dogs' sign when you started up that goat-path from the highway?

  SCENE FIVE l8l

  c hris: I don't think I noticed a reference to dogs, no, I don't

  remember any mention of dogs, in English or Italian. blackie [quickly]: Naturally not, the 'Beware of Dogs' sign

  was put up after Mr Flanders' 'little misunderstanding with

  the dogs'.

  mrs goforth: Blackie, that is not so. blackie: Yes, it it so, I heard you ordering the sign put up

  after, just after the -mrs goforth [trembling with fury]: Blackie! You have work

  to do, don't you? blackie: I've never taken a job that called for collusion in -

  falsehood! mrs goforth [mocking her]: Oh, what virtue, what high

  moral character, Blackie.

  chris [cutting in quickly]: Mrs Goforth, Miss Black, I obviously did enter and trespass on private property at my own

  risk. mrs goforth: If that statement's typed up - Blackie, type it

  up. - Would you be willing to sign it, Mr Flanders ? chris: Certainly, yes, of course, but let me write it up in my

  own handwriting and sign it right now. I'd hate for you to

  think I'd-

  blackie: He was attacked again last night. mrs goforth: Again, by dogs? blackie: Not by dogs, by a dog, your watchman, Rudy,

  attacked him because he woke up hungry and came outside

  to-

  MRS GOFORTH [rising]: BLACKIE, GET OFF THE TERRACE!

  blackie: I want to get off this mountain gone mad with your madness! I try to help you, I try to feel sorry for you because you're -

  MRS GOFORTH: WHAT? WHAT AM I?

  chris: Please. [Tears a page out of blackie's notebook and says to her quietly.] It's all right. Go in.

  mrs goforth: What did you say to that woman?

  chris: I said you're very upset, I said you're trembling.

  Mrs goforth: I've been up here surrounded by traitors all summer! [Staggers.] Ahhhhb! [He helps her into her chair.]

  182 THE MILK TRAIN DOESN'T STOP HERE ANYMORE

  - God! God....

  chris: Now. [Scribbles rapidly on the sheet of paper.] Here. 'I,

  Christopher Flanders, entered a gate marked Private at my

  o
wn risk and am solely responsible for a - misunderstanding

  with - dogs.' - Witnesses? Of the signature?

  mrs goforth: Can you unscrew this bottle? [She has been

  trying to open her codein bottle.]

  Chris [taking it from her and removing the cap]: One? mrs goforth: Two. - Thank you. - Brandy on that -

  [Indicates liquor cart.] chris: Courvoisier?

  mrs goforth: Remy-Martin. - Thank you. chris: Welcome. [He resumes his seat and smiles at her warmly.] Let me hold that glass for you.

  [She has spilled some of the brandy, her band is shaking so violently.] mrs goforth: Thank you.

  [Hi? sits back down and resumes his smile, with a quick, friendly nod.]

  - Ahh... [Draws a deep breath: begins to recover herself] -You have nice teeth. - Are they capped ?

  [chris shakes his head, smiling more.]

  Well, you got beautiful teeth, in that respect nature's been favourable to you.

  chris: Thank you.

  mrs goforth: Don't thank me, thank your dentist. [She's putting on lipstick and dabbing her nostrils with a bit of disposable tissue.]

  chris: I've never been to a dentist: honestly not.

  mrs goforth: Well, then, thank the Lord for the calcium that you got from your mother's milk. Well, I have a pretty wonderful set of teeth myself. In fact, my teeth are so good people think they are false. But look, look here! [She takes her large incisors between thumb and forefinger to demonstrate the firmness of their attachment.] See? Not even a bridge. - In my whole mouth I've had exactly three fillings which are still there, put in there ten years ago I See them? [She opens her mouth wide to expose its interior to him.] - This tooth here was slightly chipped when my daughter's third baby struck me

  scene five 183

  in the mouth with the butt of a water pistol at Murray Bay. I told my daughter that girl would turn to a problem child and it sure as hell did. - A little pocket-size bitch, getting bigger! I'm allergic to bitches. Although some people regard me as one myself... Sometimes with some justification. Want some coffee, Mr Trojan Horse Guest?

  chris: Thanks, yes: - why do you call me that, a Trojan Horse Guest?

  mrs goforth: Because you've arrived here without invitation, like the Trojan Horse got into Troy. [She has risen shakily to pour him a cup of coffee from a silver urn on the smaller upstage table.]

  chris: Don't you remember our meeting and conversation at the Ballet Ball, some years ago, quite a few when you asked me to come whenever I was in Europe?

  mrs goforth: Passports expire and so do invitations. They've got to be renewed every couple of years.

  chris: Has my invitation expired?

  mrs goforth: Coffee. We'll see about that, that remains to be seen.

  [note: While she was pouring the coffee, he may have quietly crumpled the sheet of paper and thrown it into the orchestra pit, such an action being in line with the ambiguity of his character.]

  Don't you smoke with your coffee?

  chris: Usually, but I -

  [He indicates he has no cigarettes, mrs goforth smiles knowingly and opens a cigarette box on the table.]

  chris: How does it feel, Mrs Goforth, to be a legend in your own lifetime?

  mrs goforth [pleased]: If that's a serious question, I'll give it a serious answer. A legend in my own lifetime, yes, I reckon I am. Well, I had certain advantages, endowments to start with, a face people naturally noticed and a figure that was not just sensational, but very durable, too. Some women my age, or younger, 've got breasts that look like a couple of mules hangin' their heads over the top rail of a fence. [Touches her bosom.] This is natural, not padded, not supported: and nothing's ever been lifted. Hell, I was born between a swamp and the wrong side of the tracks in One

  184 THE MILK TRAIN DOESN'T STOP HERE ANYMORE

  Street, Georgia, but not even that could stop me in my tracks, wrong side or right side or no side. Hit show-biz at fifteen when a carnival show, I mean the manager of it, saw me and dug me on that One Street in One Street, Georgia. I was billed as the Dixie Doxey, was just supposed to move my anatomy but was smart enough to keep my tongue moving, too, and the verbal comments I made on my anatomical motions while in motion were a public delight. So I breezed through show-biz like a tornado, rising from one-week 'gigs' in the sticks to star-billing in 'The Follies' while still in m'teens, ho ho ... and I was still in my teens when I married Harlon Goforth, a marriage into the Social Register and Dun-and-Bradstreet's, both. Was barely out of my teens when I became his widow. Scared to make out a will, he died intestate so everything went to me. Chris: Marvellous. Amazing.

  mrs goforth: That's right, all my life was and still is except here lately I'm a little run-down, like a race-horse that's been entered in just one race too many, even for me.... How do you feel about being a legend in your own lifetime? Huh?

  Chris: Oh, me! I don't feel like a - mythological - griffin with gold wings, but this strong fresh wind's reviving me like I'd had a - terrific breakfast 1 mrs goforth: Griffin, what's a griffin? chris: A force in life that's almost stronger than death. [Springs up, turns to the booming sea.] The sea's full of white race-horses today. May I, would you mind if I, suggested a programme for us ? A picnic on the beach, rest on the rocks in the sun till nearly sundown, then we'd come back up here revitalized for whatever the lovely evening had to offer?

  mrsgoforth: What do you think it would have to offer ? Chris: Dinner on the terrace with the sea still booming ? How is that for a programme? Say, with music, a couple of tarantella dancers brought up from the village, and -

  [rudy appears on the terrace.]

  rudy: Miss Goforth, I've taken care of that for you, they're going, on the way out.

  SCENE FIVE

  185

  mrs goforth: No trouble?

  rudy: Oh, yeah, sure, they want to see the Signora.

  MRS goforth: No, no, no. I won't see them!

  [But 'they' are appearing upstage: her kitchen staff discharged.]

  Here they come, hold them back!

  [She staggers up, turns her back on them. They cry out to her in Italian, rudy rushes upstage and herds them violently off. A wave crashes.]

  chris [quietly]: Boom. - What was their - ? mrs goforth: What? chris: - Transgression? mrs goforth: They'd been robbing me blind, he caught

  them at it, we had - an inventory and discovered that -

  they'd been robbing me blind like I was - blind.... Chris [his back to her, speaking as if to himself]: When a wave

  breaks down there, it looks as delicate as a white lace fan,

  but I bet if it hit you, it would knock you against the rocks

  and break your bones.... mrs goforth: What? Chris: - I said it's so wonderful here, after yesterday in

  Naples.... Mrs goforth: What was wrong with yesterday in Naples?

  Were you picked up for vagrancy in Naples? Chris: I wasn't picked up for anything in Naples. mrs goforth: That's worse than being picked up for

  vagrancy, baby. [She chuckles: he grins agreeably.] chris: Mrs Goforth, I'm going to tell you the truth. Mrs goforth: The truth is all you could tell me that I'd

  believe so tell me the truth, Mr Flanders. Chris: I'll go back a little further than Naples, Mrs Goforth.

  I'd drawn out all my savings account to come over here

  this summer on a Yugoslavian freighter that landed at

  Genoa. Mrs goforth: You're leading up to financial troubles,

  aren't you? Chris: Not so much that as - something harder, much harder,

  for me to deal with, a state of- Well, let me put it this way.

  Everybody has a sense of reality of some kind or other,

  l86 THE MILK TRAIN DOESN'T STOP HERE ANYMORE

  some kind of sense of things being real or not real in his, his - particular - world.... mrs goforth: I know what you mean: go on. chris: I've lost it lately: this sense of reality in my particular world. We don't all live in the same world, you k
now, Mrs Goforth, oh, we all see the same things - sea, sun, sky, human faces and inhuman faces, but - they're different in here! [Touches his forehead.] And one person's sense of reality can be another person's sense of - Well, of madness! -Chaos! - And, and -

  mrs goforth: Go on: I'm still with you. chris: And when one person's sense of reality, or loss of sense of reality, disturbs another one's sense of reality - I know how mixed up this -mrs goforth: Not a bit, clear as a bell, so keep on, y'haven't

  lost my attention.

  chris: Being able to talk: wonderful! - When one person's sense of reality seems too - disturbingly different from another person's, uh -

  mrs goforth: Sense of reality: Continue. chris: Well, he's - avoided! Not welcome! It's - that simple.... And - yesterday in Naples, I suddenly realized that I was in that situation. [Turns to the booming sea and says ' Boom'. ] I found out that I was now a - leper 1 mrs goforth: Leopard? chris: leper! - boom! [She ignores the 'boom'.]

  Yes, you see, they hang labels, tags of false identification, on people that disturb their own sense of reality too much, like the bells that used to be hung on the necks of- lepers! -boom!

  - The lady I'd come over to visit who lives in a castle on the top of Ravello, sent me a wire to Naples. I walked to Naples on foot to pick it up, and picked it up at American Express in Naples, and what it said was: 'Not yet, not ready for you, dear - Angel of- Death...'

  [mrs goforth regards him a bit uncomfortably. He smiles very warmly at her, she relaxes.] mrs goforth: - Ridiculous!

  SCENE FIVE 187

  chris: Yes, and inconvenient since I'd -

  MRS goforth: Invested all your remaining capital in this standing invitation that had stopped standing, collapsed, ho, ho, ho!

  chris: - Yes ...

  mrs goforth: Who's this bitch at Ravello?

  chris: I'd rather forget her name, now.

  mrs goforth: But you see you young people, well, you reasonably young people who used to be younger, you get in the habit of being sort of - professional house-guests, and as you get a bit older, and who doesn't get a bit older, some more than just a bit older, you're still professional house-guests, and -

  chris: Yes?

  mrs goforth: Oh, you have charm, all of you, you still have your good looks and charm and you all do something creative, such as writing but not writing and painting but not painting, and that goes fine for a time but -

  chris: You've made your point, Mrs Goforth.

  mrs goforth: No, not yet, quite yet. Your case is special. You've gotten a special nickname, 'Dear Angel of Death'. - And it's lucky for you I couldn't be less superstitious, deliberately walk under ladders, think a black cat's as lucky as a white cat, am only against the human cats of this world of which there's no small number. So! What're you looking around for, Angel of Death, as they call you?

  chris: I would love to have some buttered toast with my coffee.

  mrs goforth: Oh, no toast with my coffee, buttered, un-buttered, no toast. For breakfast I have only black coffee. Anything solid takes the edge off my energy and it's the time after breakfast when I do my best work.

  chris: What are you working on?

  mrs goforth: My memories, my memoirs, night and day, to meet the publishers' deadlines. The pressure has brought on a sort of nervous breakdown, and I'm enjoying, every minute of it because it has taken the form of making me absolutely frank and honest with people, no more pretences, although I was always frank and honest with people: