SCENE 8
The empty theatre two weeks later. Saturday afternoon. The abandoned sphinx’s head is tilted over in one corner. SHEILA sits on a platform. BROTHER JOHN paces slowly, pokes the sphinx’s head with his umbrella.
BROTHER JOHN
I bring you to the door of where this began,
and you, you kept acting in the other place.
Before I go …
[Silence]
SHEILA
Yes, Brother John?
BROTHER JOHN
I don’t know if I shouldn’t keep it to myself.
SHEILA
I’ll see you again. I’ll come to services often.
BROTHER JOHN
I’ve never seen a play in my life, you know.
[Silence]
It’s not this place, Sister Sheila, it is you.
You disturb me deeply.
[Silence]
Saturdays, Sister.
These Saturdays won’t be the same again.
[Removes his keys, jiggles them]
I can feel you wanting to be alone.
[Extends his hand]
SHEILA
I’ll walk you to the lobby. This way.
[SHEILA, BROTHER JOHN exit. Bare stage. WILFRED and IRIS enter through aisle of theatre carrying scripts of CHRISTOPHER’s play]
WILFRED
You lock the back door?
IRIS
You lock it. You have the key.
But we came here to rehearse, you hear, eh, Wilfred?
[WILFRED moves to her, fondles her]
IRIS
You didn’t get the key to the theatre for that.
WILFRED
There’s no audience. You feel people watching?
[They open their scripts. IRIS puts hers on the floor. WILFRED flings his away dramatically]
IRIS
Wow! You showoff. Let’s start where we stopped.
[She closes her eyes, assumes the stance of SHEILA in Act I, Scene 3, WILFRED in CHRIS’s position]
I’d love to surprise Chris with this, boy. I wonder when he’s going to finish this play. Ready?
WILFRED / CHRIS
“It’s dark. And you’re changing. I can feel you changing in the dark, you know that.”
IRIS / SHEILA
“If I change … If I change and gain enough distance to see you…”
WILFRED / CHRIS
“Whatever…”
IRIS / SHEILA
“To see you from a proper distance…”
WILFRED / CHRIS
“In the dark.”
IRIS / SHEILA
“Right through the dark.”
WILFRED / CHRIS
“Whoever…”
[SHEILA enters]
SHEILA
“You might look very small.”
IRIS
[Screams in fear]
Oh, Jesus Christ, girl. I thought you a ghost!
[She sits on the stage, panting. SHEILA picks up a script, turns it, reads]
SHEILA
I never read this. Just as it happened.
Word for word. Well, we told him to write real life.
You’re planning to do this play. Where’re the others?
IRIS
Christopher is living in Barbados now. Business.
Marylin took off for the States, it’s a week now.
Gavin got a job teaching acting in Jamaica.
He’s going to try it out. If he doesn’t like it …
England, or the States.
SHEILA
Poor wandering Gavin …
[Silence]
And Harvey?
IRIS
You don’t know? I thought,
when I saw you, that’s why you came in here.
His brother wanted us to post some things from here.
Some things for souvenirs like programmes, photos.
SHEILA
Why his brother?
[Silence]
IRIS
Harvey is dead, Sheila. He died last week in London.
He got suddenly thin down here. He left before
all the others. It was in the papers.
There was a nice long appreciation by …
that feller, the criticizer …
WILFRED
Critic, Iris.
SHEILA
Right, right. Critic. “The soldier’s pole is fall’n.”
WILFRED
What?
SHEILA
Nothing.
“The soldier’s pole is fall’n.…
And there is nothing left remarkable
Beneath the visiting moon.” From the play, nuh?
[She opens a script]
IRIS
Read what’s in the front. From Christopher.
SHEILA
[Walks away some distance. Sits on a platform. Reads] “To Sheila and the Company: This is the best I can do for now, up to today. I keep adding things that happen. As I hear about them, I add them in. You all once asked me to write about real life. There is no ending in real life. There is just continuity. Even death doesn’t stop. So since I’m no artist, and I’m not God, it seems to me that only fiction can make reality real … I’m stuck. It’s up to you to help me with the end … Somehow, the mere truth doesn’t seem to be enough … Chris.”
SHEILA
We’ll continue tomorrow.
I know you want to rehearse, but leave, please.
Turn off the lights. This place is full of shadows.
Shadows and voices. A theatre is never empty.
It’s like a church. The voices stay in it.
If I shouted one name, there wouldn’t be one echo
but a lot of voices. Go on.
[IRIS, WILFRED exit. Shouts]
Harvey!
Marylin! Chris!
[Silence]
Gavin!
[PHIL enters. SHEILA is weeping]
PHIL
Don’t frighten. I sleep here sometimes. Neatly. No mess. In the back. Like a baby in his cradle. You one here? In the dark? Don’t mind me. [Silence. Goes to the edge of the stage] They clap, and is like waves breaking. They laugh, and what they saying is thanks. And it does lift your heart up like a wave, so high you does feel the salt prickling in your eyes. Oh, God, a actor is a holy thing. A sacred thing. Then, when it so quiet that one cough sound like thunder, and you know you have them where you want them, is not you anymore but the gift, the gift. And you know the gift ain’t yours but something God lend you for a lickle while. Even in this country. Even here. Show me your palm. Good lines. Good branches. [He bows] Press on. It touch me once, that light. It fill me full. A gold brighter than rum. I was His vessel. And it don’t matter where it is: here, New York, London. No, miss. Believe me, Phil knows show business. [Turns. SHEILA sits on a platform] Get up. Do what you have to do. For all our sakes, I beg you. Please. Continue. Do your work. Lift up your hand, girl.
[Silence. He exits. SHEILA waits. She rises, begins to leave the stage. She does. Silence. Then she returns, stands on the platform, and begins her exercises. Her breathing, driven to the pitch of exhaustion, fills the lungs of the theatre]
By Derek Walcott
POEMS
Selected Poems
The Gulf
Another Life
Sea Grapes
The Star-Apple Kingdom
The Fortunate Traveller
Midsummer
Collected Poems 1948–1984
PLAYS
Dream on Monkey Mountain and Other Plays
The Joker of Seville and O Babylon!
Remembrance and Pantomime
Three Plays: The Last Carnival; Beef, No Chicken; A Branch of the Blue Nile
Copyright © 1986 by Derek Walcott
All rights reserved
Published simultaneously in Canada by Collins Publishers, Toronto
First edition, 1986
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[email protected].
My thanks to Earl Warner and Walton Jones, directors, to Lloyd Richards at Yale, and particularly to Carol McKeown, my editor, for their invaluable suggestions.
—D.W.
eISBN 9781466880474
First eBook edition: August 2014
CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that the plays of Derek Walcott in this book are fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States, the British Empire including the Dominion of Canada, and all other countries of the Copyright Union, and are subject to royalty. All rights, including professional, amateur, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio and television broadcasting, and the rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved. Particular emphasis is laid on the question of readings, permission for which must be obtained in writing from the author’s agent. All inquiries should be addressed to the author’s representative, Bridget Aschenberg, International Creative Management, 40 West 57 Street, New York, New York 10019.
Derek Walcott, Three Plays: The Last Carnival; Beef, No Chicken; and A Branch of the Blue Nile
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