CLODIA
Tony, don’t forget you promised me my costume when you’re finished, eh? You have to excuse him: they all so blasted nervous.
BROWN
We all are.
CLODIA
Why’s that?
BROWN
Well, I mean … we’re close to a civil war …
CLODIA
You believe that nonsense? Anyway, you’d know.
[Yawning]
So. It’s just you and me then, Mr. Brown?
BROWN
It looks so.
CLODIA
[Yawns. Laughs]
Well that’s nice. Sorry.
BROWN
I’m keeping you up. Maybe I’d better go.
CLODIA
Why? It’s Carnival. What’s your big rush? Tell me,
what do you think of Aggie? Great woman, eh?
She’s so damned driven! I wish I had her strength.
BROWN
Your turn will come. And you’ll have no choice.
You’ll find yourself becoming Agatha Willett.
All daughters turn into their mothers, don’t they?
CLODIA
I wish. I’d be damned proud of myself, boy!
[She yawns loudly. Laughs]
BROWN
She’s straight out of a Victorian romance!
CLODIA
I think she’s wonderful. I think she’s terrific.
She’s the real aristocracy. Not us.
We just a bunch of rich, dumb, stupid people.
When she was in politics she was a firebrand.
Yip. The old Willett was a terror in her day.
Then, when Dad died, she gave up her politics.
BROWN
She’s still in politics, your Miss Willett. Only
she’s not out in the field but in command.
Psychological warfare. Arranging that exhibition
to contradict things, like a barricade,
to make a martyr of your father, inviting me here:
that’s strategy. High-class political strategy.
CLODIA
Talk English. Aggie can’t force you to write.
BROWN
This whole interview was engineered.
CLODIA
Really?
BROWN
You think that’s fighting, up there in the bush?
Coming here was like walking through a mine field.
Didn’t she ask you to stay and talk to me?
CLODIA
Bullshit.
What am I supposed to do, seduce you?
BROWN
Finish off what she started. Not true?
CLODIA
Look, you’re free to go. So go. Okay?
BROWN
She moves Miss Beauxchamps any way she likes.
She’d make an excellent prime minister.
Remote control of the colonies. Terrific!
CLODIA
Am I supposed to strip and writhe on the floor?
Let’s do it for Victor. Everything for Victor.
BROWN
Miss Willett calls me up at the newspaper.
Miss Willett has arranged this exhibition,
and I review it. She knows I’ll write the truth.
CLODIA
You’re sick.
It’s you who’s trying to manipulate me, hear?
BROWN
What I resent is her estimate of me.
CLODIA
She is a woman who keeps her word.
She gave up politics for him. She promised him.
But if I do anything, it is because I’m high.
I’m independent and I feel like doing it.
Do you want an imitation or a real De La Fontaine?
Because you can have one now. Interested?
[She takes up the empty frame and sticks her head through it]
The original. Do you want it?
[Slapping a table like an auctioneer]
Sold! To that handsome black gentleman over there. An original, priceless De La Fontaine.
[She moves backwards, towards the stairs. BROWN stands, watching her, then follows]
SCENE 2
Same. An hour later. GEORGE is clearing away the drinks. SYDNEY in T-shirt, camouflage pants, and army boots enters, waits at the door.
GEORGE
What you doing here, Mr. Sydney?
SYDNEY
Take it light.
They sent me in town to check the situation,
to mix with the Carnival crowds. But they spot me,
they looking for me in all the noise and music.
I got to get back up in the bush and tell them:
Guy Harewood was shot running in Maracas River.
Look, they won’t look for me here. Is all right.
But I can’t leave them up in the hills alone.
GEORGE
Listen, Sydney!
SYDNEY
Sydney dead. Hear me?
There’s no Sydney. Sydney is not my fucking name!
GEORGE
You hurt your leg? That is why you want the horse?
Sydney, I beg you. Don’t ride it. I see something.
I see you caught like Absalom by the hair.
SYDNEY
This ain’t the Bible, nigger. This is life.
GEORGE
Did you come here to look for Miss Willett?
SYDNEY
Yes, yes, I feel something drew me here to see Miss Agatha. Yes, Brother, that’s how all o’ them does begin. I was a fool to think she could a’ be different. The first time she put me on her trembling knees driving up from the dock, and I could smell her flesh, she smelt foreign, like England. She still as foreign now, twenty years later. And she can put new children on her knees and tell them they must be strong and independent. And she meant it then. But, you see, Time does have a way. People does think they change, but Time can’t change them. She should have leave that little black boy alone. She shouldn’t have shown him a place he couldn’t reach. Or saddle some horse he wasn’t supposed to ride, at least not as long as the race wasn’t his. Poor she! Pity she ain’t here to see the Sydney that she wanted. I saw her leaving, dress up for Carnival. In the black Mercedes with the black minister.
[CLODIA and BROWN come down the stairs]
CLODIA
George, who is this man?
SYDNEY
And how’s Miss Clodia?
CLODIA
Oh, God, Sydney … Sydney.
SYDNEY
Sister?
CLODIA
Let me hug you.
[She embraces SYDNEY. She weeps]
GEORGE
Don’t trust him. Excuse me. Get out of here, Sydney.
CLODIA
George … If he goes out there, they could kill him.
GEORGE
He ain’t sheltering here. He could hide in church. ’Cept he don’t believe in that. I ain’t want you, Sydney, incorporating this family in your troubles. Get out. Let his friends hide him.
SYDNEY
I could make it up to the hills.
Once I get over Lady Chancellor Hill …
CLODIA
I have a new colt! I’ll help you saddle him.
God, he’s the fastest thing you’ll ever ride!
Remember Misery? How troublesome he was?
He’s Misery’s foal.
SYDNEY
The sorrel with the star.
CLODIA
Same one. How you know, Sydney?
SYDNEY
I groom him. Groom
that same horse by the savannah stables.
CLODIA
And why you didn’t tell me?
SYDNEY
Why? To get a free ride?
People does grow up. So Misery dead?
CLODIA
Yes. He was old. He broke a foot.
SYDNEY
Who shoot him? You?
You could
n’t do that, eh? Misery dead. I bathe
that horse in Santa Rosa River.
[CLODIA puts her arm around SYDNEY]
You the feller does write in the papers.
You does write shit, you hear me? Pure shit.
CLODIA
I know! I know what! Give him your press pass.
BROWN
What good is that? It has my name on it.
And by the way, I glad you could read, man.
SYDNEY
I ain’t need no pass.
GEORGE
Sydney, why you don’t go?
Look at all the trouble you putting strangers in!
BROWN
It wouldn’t help, believe me. It’s a small place.
SYDNEY
Give me the key to the stable, and let’s go.
[CLODIA and SYDNEY exit]
GEORGE
Yes, when they in trouble, they know their enemies.
They was like sister and brother, them two.
Then he start listening to madness, that boy.
BROWN
You don’t feel any…?
GEORGE
You mind your business.
BROWN
Look, you arse-licking, Bible-quoting …
GEORGE
You write that language? You’re a gentleman.
BROWN
Great House nigger! Don’t stick on my skin.
GEORGE
Don’t let what happened upstairs go to your head. You, you proud? You ain’t the first, but you go be the last. I go see to it. I go save her from all this madness. I go see to it that she don’t get her head mix up with all this or get mess up with you. Because she never thought that. She is a good girl. She need salvation, too. She must leave this place; tomorrow self!
BROWN
And Sydney? His salvation? Suppose they kill him. They’re killing them, you know?
GEORGE
Jesus died for what he believed. So who is Sydney?
[CLODIA enters]
CLODIA
He didn’t want the saddle. He’s riding him bareback.
God, this is crazier than any damned Carnival.
GEORGE
He playing guerrilla … Well …
[He sits down]
I need to sit down … This go be his last ride …
CLODIA
You okay, George?
GEORGE
[Points to the floor]
Ummm. He leave blood all over the good carpet …
Somebody clean up all the mess for a change.
[Exits]
CLODIA
He called me sister. You heard?
BROWN
He won’t make it.
CLODIA
Why not? Why the hell not?
[She kneels on the carpet]
BROWN
What are you doing now? Praying?
CLODIA
I’m not praying. I’m wiping his blood off the floor.
Sorry, Victor … But they bleed!
BROWN
They’re going to wipe them out. The police, and the army.
That’s what’s going to be wiped out. They’re like you.
They don’t know what they want. They have no plan.
It’s all a fantasy to them, getting killed.
CLODIA
I had my orders just like Sydney has his.
They told me to be nice to you. Write that!
BROWN
Don’t identify with Sydney. You’re white.
You aren’t Sydney. You can never be.
CLODIA
Just who the fuck are you to lecture me?
If I’m trying to be black, you’re already white.
He loves horses. What do you love?
BROWN
That what you have in common?
CLODIA
Yes. We share this mystical love of horses.
BROWN
Mystical love of horses, my ass! Did he ride you?
You mean you fucked him, too? Up there, on the estate?
In your wonderful Santa Rosa childhood?
CLODIA
Often.
BROWN
Answer my question!
CLODIA
Why?
BROWN
Because I’m not Sydney. Nor his substitute.
CLODIA
I can’t take any of this. Not now, not now. Please. I can’t think, not now. [A helicopter passes] I really not smart enough for you, you see?… I don’t know art. Ah cyan’t paint, I don’t read no poetry, my head is pure sawdust, but I know one thing. I know I stupid. But leave me stupid, because if is stupidness to love this country, the mountains, the flowers, black people, the savannah, the sea, then I proud of my stupidness! And I can’t stand all you intellectuals who keep changing your mind and your skin, because maybe my father was no great shakes as an artist, but he wasn’t no damn lizard to change when colours changed. He loved this place, and what hurt him was how he couldn’t express that love of it beautifully enough, but Goddamn it, if he didn’t make anything great, Goddamn it, he made me, and laugh all you want, but I know damn well that if I was black and poor, I’d love it the same way, the way I’ll forever love Sydney, but I don’t expect you all to believe that. Well, I can’t convince anybody, but I can keep it inside me. I don’t have to write it or paint it or design it. I hope they win. I really hope they win. And if I’m in the way of their winning, let me go away, then. So I’m going. I’m going to go. And the longer I stay away, the stronger my love for this place will grow. You can leave me now. I’m okay. Go. I’m okay. I want you to go. Get out!
BROWN
All right.
CLODIA
Oh, God, Sydney, make it! Ride, boy, ride!
Go back to Santa Rosa.
BROWN
You shallow bitch.
CLODIA
You shallow writer. Thanks.
[BROWN exits]
SCENE 3
Same. Late that afternoon. Long shafts of sunlight through the windows. AGATHA and JEAN enter. CLODIA, a small radio near her, is putting on her Watteau costume.
CLODIA
Why you all back so quick? What happen?
AGATHA
Clodia, I want you to take that costume off.
[Silence]
CLODIA
What the hell is it?
JEAN
Clodia, they burnt down Santa Rosa.
CLODIA
Good. Good, Miss Jean Beauxchamps,
senator, minister, whatever she made of you.
JEAN
I know what you feel about me, Clodia. I know long.
But I’m not ungrateful. On the contrary. I don’t know
why you should turn on me now, though. Never mind.
You’d better learn who that woman sitting there is, hear?
You better learn to appreciate self-sacrifice.
I don’t think I should stay. After this, I know
they bound to have some emergency cabinet meeting,
’cause they go wipe out them people once and for all.
CLODIA
Them people?
JEAN
They ain’t my people, thank you.
CLODIA
Oh? Who’re your people? High brown folks? White people?
[JEAN crosses, kisses CLODIA]
JEAN
No. I ain’t that presumptuous, thank you.
You could tell me why this girl insulting me, please?
CLODIA
I apologize.
JEAN
I’ll see you, Aggie.
[She exits]
AGATHA
How could you be so rude to Jean? She adores you!
CLODIA
Something is stirring in me. You should remember.
They say you had it once.
AGATHA
You must call her up.
CLODIA
Who, Jean? She’s strong. You made us all strong
.
Even Sydney. When did you hear about the fire?
AGATHA
It’s been coming over the air every half hour.
They even broadcast it between bands at the Savannah.
Jean got very upset.
CLODIA
Where’re Oswald and Tony?
AGATHA
They went up. The army came looking for them.
I wouldn’t go.
[Silence]
Take that rubbish off.
You’d be dancing with the savages who burnt it.
CLODIA
It’s all gone? The house? The stables, too?
AGATHA
They do a very thorough job, don’t they?
CLODIA
Ah, what the hell? Easy come, easy go.
It’s insured. Nobody died.
AGATHA
Oh, wonderful!
Are you going to put that silly costume on?
CLODIA
I’m a Trinidadian, Aggie.
AGATHA
Good God! Really?
Well you’re going to leave this country. I’m determined.
Before this thing splits all of us apart.
You’re leaving on the Antilles tomorrow!
CLODIA
Why? You stayed. You stayed here, and you changed.
AGATHA
If you had stood up over that crumpled body,
looking faintly ridiculous in that Carnival costume,
and heard that record going round and round and round,
playing “O Paradis,” you would have changed, too, child.
Savages. Savages!
CLODIA
Go home. You’re right. It’s all been pointless.
[Silence. She dresses]
What did you want them to do? Ask your permission?
You talk about revolution and democracy …
AGATHA
You?
Your revolutions are all in your pelvis.
CLODIA
Maybe I’ll be a missionary to Britain. In Brixton,
I’ll teach them how to treat black people.
AGATHA
You’re too used to creature comforts, girl.
You think a poster of Che Guevara over your bed
makes you a radical? Or wearing a red headband?
Did you entertain Mr. Brown after I left?
CLODIA
You mean did we screw?
AGATHA
Now look, young lady!
CLODIA
I’m not a bloody lady!
You were pleased with Jean, who’s still your maid.
Maid, not minister! Oh, Aggie, don’t let me curse!
AGATHA
Jean is my work. I take great pride in her.
You think obscenity makes you a radical?
Or jumping with Desperadoes every Carnival?
CLODIA
Jesus Christ, I should call you Auntie Oswald.
Three Plays: The Last Carnival; Beef, No Chicken; and A Branch of the Blue Nile Page 6
