by Nick Enright
The telephone rings.
Damn! [She answers brusquely.] Hello? Oh, Josh! You're lost? Where are you?… You’re doing fine. No, stay on Barrenjoey… Yes, on the left, then the little park, the boat-ramp, then next street to the right…You got it. Get a move on. I want you here before the light goes… I mean before sunset… you’ll see why. Bye.
She hangs up and goes into the kitchen. BUNTY starts to polish the wine-glasses.
BUNTY: Unusual name these days.
FLICK: [off] I suppose it is.
BUNTY: Joss, as in Jocelyn?
FLICK: [off] What?
BUNTY: I said Joss, as in Jocelyn?
FLICK enters carrying finger-bowls and a small American flag which she plants as a centre-piece.
FLICK: What?
BUNTY: Is her name Jocelyn?
FLICK: Who?
BUNTY: The girl who’s coming—
She sees the flag.
Oh, she’s American?
FLICK: American, yes, but—
BUNTY: Someone from your exchange year!
FLICK: That’s right.
BUNTY: How lovely. You didn’t tell me.
FLICK: I didn’t know. I got a call at the restaurant at lunchtime.
BUNTY: You’re sure she likes lobster? Some don’t. What’s her other name, by the way?
FLICK: What makes you think it’s a her?
BUNTY: I don’t think there are too many boys called Jocelyn.
FLICK: I suppose not.
BUNTY: Jocelyn what?
FLICK: Makepeace.
BUNTY: Makepeace? You’re making that up.
FLICK: I’m not.
BUNTY: Jocelyn Makepeace, what an unusual name. Perhaps I’ll stay and say hello.
FLICK: No, Bunty.
BUNTY: Oh, darling, hands across the water. They had you for a whole year.
FLICK: No, Bunty.
BUNTY: You’re not ashamed of me, Felicity? I’m not your average North Shore widow, you know. I’m still active.
FLICK: I know.
BUNTY: And I have published.
FLICK: Bunty, you’re a wonder. Now off you go.
BUNTY: I’d hate to think the Herald was right about you this morning. Spiky, they called you, darling.
FLICK: I read it.
BUNTY: Spiky and tense and surprisingly unsettled. They’re nicer than that about Mr Keating. But you did come across like that. And the tone of some of those questions! That nun they had on last week, the entomologist, lovely serene face. They didn’t ask her about fidelity.
FLICK: They asked me.
BUNTY: And now they all know, the girls at tennis and everyone.
FLICK: That I’ve been faithful to my husband?
BUNTY: That you haven’t.
FLICK: But I have. You heard me.
BUNTY: Felicity, you blushed deep scarlet when the word was mentioned.
FLICK: That wasn’t a blush.
BUNTY: The reception in Pymble is perfect.
FLICK: I mean, not that sort of blush, it was… look, Bunty, I’ve got to open some oysters.
FLICK goes into the kitchen.
BUNTY: Is she one of those gorgeous blonde California girls? Felicity? Was she?
FLICK returns with oysters, a knife and a platter.
With pom-poms?
FLICK: What?
BUNTY: Those girls at the football matches, jumping up and down…
FLICK: Cheerleaders.
BUNTY: Yes, was she a cheerleader? Big and blonde, I can just see her. Big in the bust—
FLICK: Mother—
BUNTY: All that work with the pom-poms. And perfect teeth.
FLICK: [steering BUNTY to the door] Perfect.
BUNTY: Fluoride, of course, they were onto it years before us. The Americans have led the world in oral hygiene. She sounds like a delight. I’m sorry I won’t be meeting her.
FLICK: [opening the door] Well, I’m planning a quiet reunion.
BUNTY: Good. I’m having a quiet night with Bill Collins. It’s his sincerity I love. I always feel he’s there in the room with me, watching and enjoying.
She waves and goes, closing the door. FLICK takes a tape from the top of the VCR, inserts it and starts it. She opens the oysters as she watches.
INTERVIEWER: Yes, I am surprised. To hear you talk about being lonely. I mean, your husband—
FLICK: [on TV] We agreed we aren’t going to discuss him.
INTERVIEWER: Right. But he’s in a high-pressure career—
FLICK: [on TV] Which we’re also not going to discuss.
INTERVIEWER: Right. But your careers give each of you a certain public profile. I thought being alone might be a sort of asylum.
FLICK: Oh, please!
FLICK: [on TV] Oh, please! I thought I only thought that.
INTERVIEWER: Okay. Your husband’s away a lot. Do you have any special understanding about that?
FLICK: [on TV] Yes, we’ve agreed to remember each other's first names.
INTERVIEWER: What about fidelity?
FLICK: No blush. There’s no blush.
FLICK: [on TV] About the concept?
INTERVIEWER: Yes. Do you believe in it?
FLICK: There's a flush.
FLICK: [on TV] Yes, I do.
INTERVIEWER: But are there circumstances in which you would allow yourselves to be—
FLICK: [on TV] I can only answer for myself!
FLICK: And there's a blush. Sunset over Pittwater.
The doorbell rings. FLICK switches off the VCR, and goes to answer it. She stops, smelling her hands.
Just a minute!
She runs into the kitchen, then returns to open the door. JOSH stands there with wine and flowers. They look at each other in silence for a moment.
JOSH: Shall we gather at the river?
They embrace.
Well we done it. We done gathered at the river.
FLICK: It’s called Pittwater. Not quite a river.
JOSH: [indicating the deck] But quite a view. And so is this. God damn. You look—
FLICK: Thirty-seven.
He presents the flowers and wine.
Thank you.
She looks at the label.
You certainly splashed out.
JOSH: Well, it’s a step up from cherry Cokes.
She gives JOSH the bottle and opener and goes into the kitchen, returning with a vase, as JOSH opens the wine.
And I made it before sunset.
FLICK: Wasn’t it worth it? It ends tonight. I mean… summer time. Even in Queensland. Though they don’t like daylight saving up there. It puts the cattle off their feed. I can’t believe this… we haven't seen one another in twenty years, and I’m telling you about the Queensland dairy industry. Anyway, it's my favourite night of the year.
JOSH: Then I'm glad to be sharing it. [He hands her a glass of wine.] Cheers.
FLICK: Cheers. But Josh, how on earth did you find me?
JOSH: You found me. I was in a bar last night. There was a TV set—
FLICK: Oh, no!
JOSH: Somebody asked the barman to put on the tennis. He pressed a button, and, pfft, there you were. I heard you say restaurant, and, pfft, Becker and Lendl.
FLICK: And you persuaded them to turn back to me?
JOSH: No, I watched Becker and Lendl. But after the game, I called up some fancy restaurant. I figured if you were talking on TV you weren’t slinging hash in some diner. I said, how do I find Felicity Hayes? They said call the Whale Beach Cafe. You look good on TV.
FLICK: I felt like a fool.
JOSH: Kind of a heavy interview, huh?
FLICK: I thought you only heard me say restaurant?
JOSH: No, I did bear them asking you about being lonely. They went in close on your face, and—
FLICK: Pfft, Boris and Ivan.
JOSH: Battling out the tie-breaker. So how did you answer?
FLICK: Wait till it’s out on video. You're a tennis fan these days?
JOSH: I’m crazy for it.
FLICK: You hated all that stuff back then.
JOSH: Back then we hated lots of things. L.B.J.—
FLICK: The military-industrial complex—
JOSH: The John Birchers, the D.A.R.—
FLICK: Saluting the flag—
JOSH: Oh, no! The flag we loved. One flag, anyway.
He sees the little flag on the table-centre.
Hey! There it is.
He holds it up. She is puzzled.
You mean you don't remember?
She shakes her head.
Ours was bigger than this. Big enough for two.
FLICK: Oh! Oh, yes! Yes! It was as itchy as hell, and I got the imprint of a couple of stripes on my bum.
JOSH: What, no stars?
FLICK: Just the stripes.
JOSH: Maybe you saw the stars.
FLICK: I saw the ceiling of your parents' cabana. What a low act, taking my virginity on top of Old Glory.
JOSH: Well, you took mine.
FLICK: What! You told me—
JOSH: I was lying. I was the last virgin in the senior class. That rubber in my wallet was so old I practically had to iron it.
FLICK: But you were so patronising. You told me the political gesture was more important than the act itself.
JOSH: The act itself was more fun.
FLICK: Maybe for you.
JOSH: Hey!
FLICK: It’s all right, Josh. The second time was terrific. And it got better. And better. Well, we’ve certainly moved on from the Queensland dairy industry. See, the light's nearly gone.
There is a rumble on the roof.
Possum time.
JOSH: Possums in the suburbs?
FLICK: Not the suburbs, the Peninsula. They live in these trees, and every night they like to run across the roof. It’s the only drawback to living up here. Everything else is pretty perfect.
JOSH: Perfect? Wow. Hey, is that a gym in your basement?
FLICK: Well, it’s a work-out room.
JOSH: So now you’re a fitness freak? We used to laugh at all those jocks at high school.
FLICK: Brad… Biff…
JOSH: Blair… Buck…
FLICK: Butch. And the girls! Those cheerleaders, with their perfect teeth and their pom-poms… two bits, four bits, six bits, a dollar, all for Corona, stand up and holler! Coro-na! All of them smiling up at the bleachers like a showroom full of Cadillacs. Let me get the line-up. Don’t help me… Cindy… Mary-Jo… Donna Sue…And, oh, the pick of the bunch, what was her name? The best teeth, the best figure, every jock’s dream of bliss. You remember.
JOSH: It was twenty years ago!
FLICK: You must remember. Homecoming queen. Baton twirler. Christmas.
JOSH: Christmas?
FLICK: Something like. Carol? Noelle? Holly! That's it, Holly. Holly Magnuson. You remember Holly.
JOSH: Holly. Oh, sure.
FLICK: They were all hanging out for Holly. And which one of them did she marry? Brad? Biff? Buck?
JOSH: None of them. She married me.
FLICK: Oh. Well, she was a very remarkable girl. I used to stand next to her in choir. It was a big voice, very big. Chest resonance, I suppose. And she can’t have thought too much of Brad and Biff and Buck if she went and married a man called Joshua Makepeace.
JOSH: Yeah.
FLICK: Josh, I’m drowning. Eat an oyster and save me.
She offers the platter. He takes an oyster and eats it.
JOSH: Mm. Great. Very good. What did you do to these?
FLICK: I opened them. It makes eating easier.
JOSH: So, you’re a famous cook.
FLICK: I wouldn't say famous.
JOSH: You were on TV.
FLICK: For the first and last time. A series on six women of achievement, quote unquote, called Tough At The Top. Tough is right. All I got from it was a tension headache and a roasting in this morning’s paper. Now you. The whole story, please.
JOSH: Well, no surprises. I’m teaching history.
FLICK: High school?
JOSH: Stanford.
FLICK: I beg your pardon. A university lecturer.
JOSH: Professor.
FLICK: Professor Makepeace. What’s your field?
JOSH: People who screwed on the American flag.
FLICK: You never told me we were part of a tradition.
JOSH: Radical Theories and Movements, Twentieth Century, U.S.
FLICK: I thought this generation didn't need all that.
JOSH: They need entertaining. And I’m entertaining. Sacco and Vanzetti, the mini-series.
FLICK: And what brings you to Sydney, Professor?
JOSH: Somebody liked my Roosevelt book and asked me to come give a paper on the New Deal. I gave it, they loved it. And a barman turned on Becker and Lendl and, pfft—
FLICK: Here you are.
JOSH: Nice timing, too. I fly out tomorrow night.
FLICK: You have to?
JOSH: I teach a class Monday. Sacco and Vanzetti live.
FLICK: I’m sorry. I’d like you to have met Tom.
JOSH: Tom?
FLICK: My husband. He’s back from L.A. tomorrow night.
JOSH: Your husband.
FLICK: Yes.
JOSH: You’re married.
FLICK: Well, yes. You’re surprised.
JOSH: No, it’s just… well, on TV, you seemed sort of lonely, and, I don’t know, sad.
FLICK: Married people don’t ever get sort of lonely and I don’t know, sad? Are things that good with Holly?
JOSH: Hey! You still use your own name, okay? And anyway, you didn’t tell me.
FLICK: You didn’t ask me.
JOSH: How long?
FLICK: Seven years. Seven years exactly.
JOSH: Exactly?
FLICK: It’s our anniversary today.
JOSH: [whistling] And he’s in L.A.? Some anniversary.
FLICK: He’s a very busy man.
The phone rings. FLICK answers it.
Dougal. No, I wouldn’t want you to do that… Well, because we’d miss you… Anyway, I believe it takes forever, and your whole life flashes before your… Stay with us, and work through it… Yes, you can, Doog. You can. Now dry those tears, and back to work. Bye.
She hangs up.
JOSH: Who was that!
FLICK: Just my chef about to throw himself off the jetty. I've taken my last phone call. Tell me about Holly.
JOSH: You know about Holly.
FLICK: I remember her, but I guess twenty years have seen some changes. She’s not still a cheerleader. Is she?
JOSH: She teaches aerobics.
FLICK: I can see that. Kids?
JOSH: One. Kelly. She’s ten. And you?
FLICK: No. Not yet. I’d like one. We tried, once. And then… well, things got hectic. You live on campus?
JOSH: No, in the city, in San Francisco.
FLICK: Holly works downtown?
JOSH: She… no, she works out of town.
FLICK: Oh. Where?
JOSH: Uh… Boston.
FLICK: Boston. That’s… that’s out of town all right.
JOSH: We’re divorced.
FLICK: Oh. You didn’t tell me.
JOSH: You didn’t ask me.
FLICK: Well, I wouldn’t, would I?
The phone rings.
Damn!
JOSH answers for her.
JOSH: Good evening. You are now entering the Twilight Zone.
He hums the theme, and hangs up.
‘Ah want to spick to Felice.’
FLICK: Jean-Luc. My head waiter. Dougal’s other half. Thank you. So, it didn’t work out with Holly?
JOSH: We had a good couple of years… well, a good couple of months… well, the honeymoon was great. Hey, Flicka, can we start over?
FLICK: Flicka. Nobody’s called me that since you.
JOSH: They don’t call you Felicity!
FLICK: Only my mother. There’s something about my name that makes everyone else dangerously creative.
Flip, Flick, Lizard, Blister. I answer to anything. How do you mean, start over?
JOSH: I mean, junk the past, just for now.
FLICK: It’s hard, Josh. You’re it. You’re that year, the year that turned my head around. From Presbyterian Ladies’ College to Beach Blanket High School. From Ancient Airs and Dances with the recorder group to Led Zeppelin with you.
JOSH: At least we can call time out.
The possums run on the roof. He looks up.
Cool it, fellas. How are things here and now?
FLICK: For me? Busy. Okay.
JOSH: [refilling their glasses] That good? So tell me.
FLICK: I have a restaurant. It’s over the hill. I mean literally. That way. In an old cottage on Whale Beach. I cleaned down the walls, and planted a garden, and turned it into a place I might like to sit in, and cooked the food I might like to eat. I found Dougal, we found a way of making it work, and…
JOSH: People came.
FLICK: People come. It’s nice. It’s where I met Tom. He was a regular.
JOSH: Was?
FLICK: Well, now, he travels a lot… he doesn’t have the time.
JOSH: What takes him away so much?
FLICK: Business.
JOSH: What, he’s in exports?
FLICK: Yes. Exports.
JOSH: You’re lying, Flicka, I remember that look. Oh, God, I’m sorry, it isn’t… organised crime?
FLICK: I wouldn’t call it organised. He is in exports. Sports exports.
JOSH: As in hockey pucks? Tennis balls?
FLICK: As in tennis players.
JOSH: He manages tennis players.
FLICK: One. One player.
JOSH: Who!
FLICK silently lifts up the glossy cover of a magazine, to reveal a photo of JASON in motion.
You’re putting me on.
FLICK shakes her head.
Holy shit. Jason Strutt. He manages Jason Strutt. He coaches Jason Strutt. This is incredible. You made him sound like a drug-runner, and he manages Jason Strutt. He’s Tom Finn!
FLICK nods.
Jason Strutt. Holy shit. I mean, Wimbledon, that was poetry, there hasn't been a final like that since… Hoad, Gonzales, Borg, you name it. I saw him at Flushing Meadow, paid nearly the whole damn advance on the Roosevelt book for two seats centre court, and… well, forget Roosevelt, forget the New Deal, that was history! Jason Strutt. And you didn’t want to tell me. Why?
FLICK: I thought you might do what you’ve just done.
JOSH: What?
FLICK: Have an orgasm on my floor.
JOSH: Flicka, I’m impressed. The guy is living history.
FLICK: Then help yourself. We have all his games on video.
