The Torrents

by Oriel Gray

  JENNY: Can you buy them all out, Mr Torrent?

  RUFUS: [this is what he has been considering] No—not all of them.

  He smiles at her.

  But if I mortgage everything I own, I can buy out Manson and Squires, which will be good riddance, and I can talk the others into staying with me. I’m not an Irishman for nothing, Miss Milford. In a year they’ll be complimenting themselves on their foresight and public spirit [Dryly] and so will I!

  There is a brief tap on the head of the stairs and JOCK MACDONALD, CHRISTY and a nervous but determined BERNIE in the rear, file in, heavy with serious intention.

  JOCK: [very Scots, with determination] Ye’ll excuse me, Mr Torrent—I know you’re having rather a disturbing morning. But I thought—

  CHRISTY pulls his coat.

  All right, all right—WE thought, but the boys asked me to do the talking—

  CHRISTY: Then get on with it!

  JOCK: It’s no use pretending that we don’t know that something peculiar’s been going on Mr Torrent. There was that editorial. We know you never saw it—

  JENNY: [quickly] Mr Torrent knows that nobody was to blame for that but me. I left him an explanation with my resignation. You have no need to feel concerned, Mr MacDonald.

  JOCK: [doggedly] We know you never saw it—we knew it last night. But we printed it—so we’re just as much to blame. You’ve been a fair employer and a good friend, Mr Torrent, despite your little oddities, and we don’t want to make any trouble… Well, sir, if anything is going to happen to the lassie here—or to Ben—we might have to down tools. It’s only right we stand by them!

  RUFUS speaks with gentle acidity.

  RUFUS: Thank you, gentlemen. I am touched by the faith in my stupidity and tyranny shown by all my staff. Had you had the opportunity to question Mr Manson and Mr Squires, you would have learned that I, too, am ‘standing by them’. The ‘Koolgalla Argus’ needs no scapegoats!

  General relief CHRISTY guffaws with satisfaction.

  CHRISTY: I could’ve told you—I could’ve told you—!

  JOCK: [who does not approve of drama in the office] Then why didn’t you, you perishing genius, and save everybody’s time! Now that’s settled satisfactorily, Mr Torrent, we’ll be getting back to work.

  Jerks his head toward door and they start out.

  JENNY: Wait—please.

  They turn back.

  You know I can’t say anything but thank you… and you know what this means to me. Coming here, as I did—

  She is not able to go on but she holds out her hand to them.

  Thank you.

  RUFUS: [with real sincerity] As for my son, I, too, say ‘Thank you’. He has good colleagues.

  RUFUS claps BERNIE on the shoulder and BERNIE all but collapses under the honour and weight. JOCK turns very brisk and efficient.

  JOCK: We’re near an hour behind.

  Obediently they start out.

  You wouldn’t have entered the quotes yet, Miss Jenny? Two jobs have come up this morning.

  RUFUS: Well, we still have some business!

  JENNY: I’ll come down and get them, Mr MacDonald.

  She goes out with JOCK followed by BERNIE, CHRISTY bringing up the rear, but still audible as he goes downstairs.

  CHRISTY: Next time there’s a piece of business like that to be done, Jock, you’d better leave it to me. You’re a well meaning fellow, but you just haven’t got the experience. I knew a feller once—a big fat feller—his aunt used to keep a pie stall in Hobart—

  Alone RUFUS stands looking after them for a moment. He glances down at JENNY’s desk where her handkerchief is lying beside her typewriter. On an impulse he picks it up, raises it to his nostrils, sniffs approvingly at the perfume, drops it back. He pulls out his heavy watch, snaps it open, looks at the time reprovingly, crosses and goes into his own office. He sits at his desk. The stage is empty for a minute. Then there is the sound of someone running upstairs and KINGSLEY MYERS, carrying a newspaper, comes in buoyantly. He is followed in by GWYNNE, looking very pretty in her long riding skirt and wide brimmed hat strapped under her chin.

  KINGSLEY: Good morning, sir… a very good morning, sir, and congratulations—all the congratulations in the world! I’ve never read a better statement—put my own views exactly, but a thousand times better than I could do it myself…

  RUFUS sits at his desk with a sheaf of papers in his hand which he is tapping, to give the impression of a man held up in his work.

  … with more breadth and clarity, if you know what I mean. Sometimes I’m not very clear—

  RUFUS: [acidly] I have noticed that tendency, Kingsley. [Surprised] You here, too, Gwynne.

  GWYNNE: Yes, Mr Torrent. You see, we got the ‘Argus’ so much earlier and I knew that Kingsley didn’t see it until later, and how much this meant to him, I got so awfully excited when I saw the paper that I—I just saddled Rainbird and rode straight over to his place to show him.

  RUFUS: Hmmmmm. How’s your mother?

  GWYNNE: [knowing quite well what he means] Not very pleased. And Father’s away.

  RUFUS: [non-committal] Hmmmmm.

  GWYNNE: [daring him] Both Father and Mother are a little behind the times, Mr Torrent. They haven’t quite realised that the New Woman is so much more independent than the old!

  They both look at her, KINGSLEY admiringly, RUFUS amazed. Then RUFUS shoots a glance of cold suspicion at JENNY’s desk.

  KINGSLEY: It was wonderful of you to do it, Gwynne. And wonderful again, sir, for you to—

  RUFUS: [cutting him short] The credit’s Ben’s—he wrote it!

  KINGSLEY: But where is Ben?

  JENNY comes in looking surprised to see them.

  Jenny—where’s Ben?

  JENNY: Downstairs…

  A great relief shows for a moment on RUFUS’ face.

  … seeing Mr MacDonald about some page proofs…

  KINGSLEY: I’ve got to see him. We’ve just been telling Mr Torrent what a wonderful thing he’s done with this…

  RUFUS: [waving paper] And I’ve just been telling them—the credit belongs to Ben.

  KINGSLEY: [laughing] Come, sir—now you’re being too modest. Everyone knows that not a line goes into the ‘Argus’ that you haven’t approved. Believe me, you’ll go down in the history of this district as a man of vision. Oh, come on, Gwynne—we must find Ben.

  Taking her he starts to hurry her off… stops for a moment to look at JENNY.

  And you, Jenny—I’d risk a bet that you had a hand in this, too.

  He practically drags GWYNNE out, calling ‘Ben! Ben!’

  RUFUS: Have you the grace to blush?

  She sits demurely at her desk. He towers over her.

  A man of vision! Never before has a man been so trapped into such an undeserved reputation!

  JENNY: I don’t think that matters, Mr Torrent—so long as you’re big enough to wear it well.

  KINGSLEY comes back, arms linked with a slightly stiff backed BEN. GWYNNE following, smiling.

  KINGSLEY: Hail the conquering hero! Ben, it was hair-raising! Your father told me—

  BEN: I can imagine what my father told you, King. My father bears no responsibility. No-one bears any responsibility, except me. It was a stroke of—of mad—

  RUFUS: [genially, yet warning BEN to be discreet] Genius, Ben—genius.

  BEN: I am not worthy of your sarcasm, sir… [Very stiff] Soon I will be leaving Koolgalla, and—

  RUFUS: [cutting in] My dear Ben, I am in earnest. Kingsley and Gwynne have come into town especially to congratulate you, to say what we all feel—that with this editorial, you have made the technical position and the future hope clear in the mind of the common man.

  KINGSLEY: [in complete misunderstanding] Your father is taking no part of the credit due. He is leaving it all to you. He is proud of you, Ben. And so are we!

  BEN: I don’t deserve it, King—the credit shouldn’t be mine. There is someone else…

  He looks
at JENNY and she shakes her head almost imperceptibly.

  KINGSLEY: Of course, I realise that this is not the end of the battle. The ‘Argus’ will have to meet so many attacks. So often, you and Ben will feel that your courage has been wasted. But there are more people than you know who feel as I do—and we will be with you. And we’ll take care of the soil. I tell you, there are strange new wonderful things going to happen in farming. The day will come when farming will be as exact a science as mathematics, and Koolgalla will be a great city!

  RUFUS: I’m glad you realise that it won’t be easy. There will be incompetence and self interest and—worst of all—indifference to fight.

  GWYNNE: [unexpectedly] Kingsley can fight, too! So can I!

  Everyone looks at her—she looks back without blushes.

  RUFUS: At least, we know those who will be for or against us. We know the town. And if you have to fight, then it is common sense to choose your battleground.

  He looks at JENNY and drops his head in the faintest mocking acknowledgement.

  KINGSLEY: Well, sir, with you and Ben here—

  BEN: Don’t count on me, King. I may not be here.

  RUFUS, who has lost interest in the conversation and has picked up some papers from JENNY’s table and is glancing through them, turns, surprised. JENNY and GWYNNE both look from one to the other and back at him. KINGSLEY is too absorbed at take it seriously. BEN, who has said it mainly for its effect on JENNY, declines to say more.

  KINGSLEY: You’ll be here. You know, this feels like my birthday! Come, Ben—I’ll buy you a beer…

  BEN shudders a little but does his best to look nonchalant under JENNY’s eye.

  [More hesitantly to RUFUS] I don’t suppose I could persuade you, sir—

  RUFUS: I never drink beer at this hour of the morning…

  KINGSLEY slightly crushed.

  … only port—as a matter of policy. And it might be good policy to be seen in town this morning.

  Reaches hat from peg.

  JENNY: If you will hand me my hat, as well, Mr Torrent, I will slip around the corner and see if Mrs Hartman has prepared the list of her expected guests at her floral festival.

  With a little bow, RUFUS hands her hat first and she pins it on. They stand aside to allow JENNY to precede them.

  RUFUS: It’s a sad pity that the ladies can’t join us, Kingsley.

  They laugh at this preposterous notion.

  JENNY: [as she goes] Don’t tempt me, gentlemen—I might put your tolerance to the test.

  They sober—she might. BEN is about to follow them out when GWYNNE says…

  GWYNNE: May I speak to you alone for a moment, Ben, if King and your father will excuse us.

  KINGSLEY looks back wistfully.

  KINGSLEY: Thank you for coming for me, Gwynne… Ben will be seeing you home.

  GWYNNE: [with a brave effort] I am going to my sister’s for lunch. But afterwards—would you ride home with me, King?

  KINGSLEY: [delighted but puzzled] I—I shall be only too happy, Gwynne… that is, if Ben—

  GWYNNE: I have asked you, Kingsley.

  KINGSLEY: [after an embarrassed look at BEN and RUFUS] Th—thank you, Gwynne I shall call for you. [To RUFUS] Shall we go, sir?

  RUFUS: [dryly] It may be as well.

  After a shrewd glance at GWYNNE and BEN, RUFUS goes out followed by KINGSLEY.

  BEN: [very busy sorting blocks out on the table] You’re very strange this morning, Gwynne.

  GWYNNE: It’s been a very strange morning. Is it true about what you said, Ben, about not being here?

  BEN: [who hasn’t meant it] Now, look Gwynne—just because a man says something vague, there’s no need for you to get upset—

  GWYNNE: I’m not upset, Ben.

  He looks. By heaven, she isn’t.

  It suits me very well. But I thought you might be going because of me, and I want you to know that you don’t have to go—or stay—because of me any more.

  She takes off her glove and slips off her engagement ring.

  Take it, Ben…

  She looks at the ring before she presses it into his hand.

  It was your mother’s, wasn’t it? Don’t give it away so lightly next time.

  BEN: [embarrassed—and genuinely ashamed of hurting her] My dear, you mustn’t do this—

  GWYNNE: Do you love me, Ben?

  BEN: You—you know how fond I am of you. We played together as kids—we’ve been friends for years. Everything has always been planned—

  GWYNNE: [insistently] Do you love me, Ben?

  BEN: [meaning to reassure her] Of course, I—

  Under her eyes his own drop away. He is silent.

  GWYNNE: I knew the answer—I’ve known it for a long time though. But it was hard to face. But this morning, when everything seemed to be changing—Are you in love with Jenny, Ben?

  BEN: [not answering that] I could live happily with you, Gwynne.

  GWYNNE: You could fill in the hours between morning and night… This way is best. And it’s not so bad, now that it’s out and over. I expect I gave you up a long time ago. I imagine I’ll always feel rather sentimental about you… I don’t suppose you’ll ever grow old for me, and I don’t suppose that the woman you do marry will ever seem quite worthy of you—no matter how superior to you she may be.

  BEN is feeling the nostalgia of parting and he is nearer to being interested in GWYNNE than he has been before.

  But now that I have faced it, I find there are compensations. You’ll be an awful handful for somebody, Ben—perhaps, in a way, I feel rather relieved…

  BEN’s jaw drops. Then he has the grace to laugh.

  BEN: Well—that takes the edge off my noble shame!

  She picks up her gloves, starts to put them on before leaving.

  Gwynne, will you give King a chance later? You know how much he cares.

  GWYNNE: I know. I expect I will—later. I like him very much—and next time, I think I’d be rather more loved than loving. And next time a marriage is arranged for me—I shall arrange it myself!

  She goes over to JENNY’s piece of mirror, and begins to adjust her hat, settling the strap under her chin.

  BEN: Did you leave Rainbird at the stables?

  GWYNNE: [at mirror] Yes…

  BEN: I’ll come down with you.

  GWYNNE: [turning around] Just as far as the door.

  BEN: [appreciating her] Gwynne, you are so sweet—and I do feel a cad.

  GWYNNE: Ben, you are so charming—and keep away from me in the future, please. As for being a cad, I’m beginning to think that it’s better to be a cad than a fool. Perhaps if we had more cads and fewer fools, we’d have fewer tragedies, too—in the end.

  She nods dismissal to him as JENNY is heard on the stairs.

  BEN: That doesn’t sound like you, Gwynne.

  GWYNNE: You forget—I’ve known Jenny, too.

  GWYNNE smiles at the puzzled JENNY and goes out. JENNY shrugs her bewilderment. She goes to her desk shakes her head at its confusion and begins to tidy it.

  BEN: [imperiously] Jenny. I want to talk to you.

  JENNY: [dropping blocks] And I want to talk to you. Ben, forgive me for putting that editorial in. As it happens, everything has turned out well, but still it was—well—unforgivable. It was so right—and it said things so necessary to say— Oh, Ben, I couldn’t help myself! Mind you, I’d probably do it again tomorrow, but I do feel ashamed of myself for having done it yesterday!

  BEN: [with a crack of laughter] Oh, Jenny, my Jenny!

  JENNY: Perhaps your father is right after all—women are too emotional. Anyway, if you had done the right thing and put it in yourself… [Laughs] But I did leave the explanation… and my resignation—on your father’s desk.

  BEN: Protection for the weaker element.

  JENNY: I didn’t think you were weak Ben—not really.

  BEN: [close to her] Didn’t you, Jenny?

  He comes close to her. She wants to avoid what she can see co
ming.

  JENNY: You’re just beginning to grow up, Ben. Just beginning to become a wonderful, strong, fine exciting man… That’s why…

  BEN: [taking her hands] Why—what, Jenny?

  JENNY: Why I think you ought to go away from here.

  BEN: Well, thank you. I had no idea I was becoming such a burden to my friends.

  JENNY: [she has no time for this sort of coquetry] Don’t be silly—you know how much I’ll hate to see you go. But you need to do it, Ben—you have said yourself so often that you live in your father’s shadow.

  BEN: [waving it away] Pardonable rhetoric. And don’t be too bitter about the old boy—I know he hasn’t been quite straight over this editorial, but—

  JENNY: You do talk the most arrant nonsense, Ben. Your father is a wonderful man—

  BEN: In his way—

  JENNY: [sailing on] Where do you think you got your intelligence… [Grudging]… and charm and that blind instinct for the right road to follow? He has something else, Ben—a consciousness of being alone, of pain and struggle that you haven’t learned. That has given him maturity.

  BEN: I can learn, Jenny.

  JENNY: Not in Koolgalla where he will always lead the way.

  BEN: You’re right, of course. You are, always.

  JENNY: Are you a good sailor?

  BEN: [grinning] No.

  JENNY: Then that’s the thing for you. Ben, you have to attempt the things that don’t come easily to you—the things you don’t do well. Otherwise you’ll always be Ben Torrent, drifting in his father’s shadow, and not big enough to cast one of his own. You’re like this town—this town that has to choose between digging up its good earth for the chance of gold or planting it with the certainty of fruit trees. You are like that—you—and this town and the world beyond us, perhaps…

  They turn, MANSON, now calm, is standing in the doorway.

  MANSON: Interrupting something?

  They look at him with hostile eyes.

  I left in a hurry before—I’m a man whose temper bolts with him sometimes. And yet I’m as easy as a lamb to live with. [To JENNY] Would you think that?

  JENNY: It isn’t one of the things I’d think about at all!

  MANSON: You don’t like me, do you? Pity—Torrent scored there, when he brought you here to work.