Play With a Tiger and Other Plays. Doris Lessing
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I think I’m rather sorry to part with it. [teasing her, but half-serious] Rather nice, the Army – being told what to do, everything in its place, everything tidy …
MYRA: Tidy! It’s lucky you weren’t in Cyprus or Kenya or Suez – keeping order. [laughing angrily] Keeping everything tidy.
TONY: Well?
MYRA: You don’t believe in it. [as he does not reply] You might have been killed for something you don’t even believe in.
TONY: You’re so delightfully old-fashioned. Getting killed for something you believe in is surely a bit of a luxury these days? Something your generation enjoyed. Now one just – gets killed. [He has intended this to sound calmly cynical, but in spite of himself it comes out plaintive.]
MYRA [has an impulse to make a maternal protective gesture, suppresses it at the last moment. Says quietly, but between her teeth]: All the same, get out of those clothes.
TONY [angry, because he knows he has sounded like a child]: All right – but what do you suppose you look like?
MYRA [cheerfully]: Oh, the char, I know. But I’ve been cleaning the stairs. If I’d known you were coming …
TONY: Oh, I know, you’d have changed your trousers.
MYRA: I might even have worn a dress.
TONY [languidly charming]: Really, Mother, when you look so charming when you try, do you have to look like that?
MYRA [cheerfully impatient]: Oh, don’t be such a little – no one can look charming cleaning the stairs.
TONY [unpleasantly]: So you were cleaning the stairs. And who did you expect to find sitting here?
MYRA: Why, no one.
TONY: You came creeping down. Were you going to put your hands over my eyes and say: ‘Peekaboo’? [gives a young, aggressive, unhappy laugh]
MYRA: It was dark. I couldn’t see who it was. It might have been anybody.
TONY: Of course, anybody. Why don’t you put your hands over my eyes now and say ‘Peekaboo’? How do you know? – I might rather like it. Then you could bite my ear, or something like that. [gives the same laugh]
MYRA [quietly]: Tony, you’ve just come home.
TONY: Well, and why did you come creeping down the stairs?
MYRA: I came down because the telephone was ringing earlier. I came to see. Did you take it?
TONY: So it was. Yes. I forgot.
MYRA [cheerfully]: You’re a bloody bore, Tony.
TONY [wincing]: Do you have to swear?
MYRA: Well, now you’re home I suppose I’ll have to stop. [in a refined voice] There are times, dear, when you do rather irritate me.
TONY [stiffly]: I’ve already said that I’m quite prepared to go somewhere else if it’s inconvenient for you to have me at such short notice. [MYRA watches him: she is on the defensive.] Well? Who is that you’ve got upstairs with you? Who is it this time?
MYRA: How do you know I’ve got anyone upstairs with me?
TONY: Who is it upstairs?
MYRA [offhand]: Sandy.
TONY: Sandy who?
MYRA: Don’t be silly. Sandy Boles.
TONY [staring]: But he’s my age.
MYRA: What of it?
TONY: He’s my age. He’s 22.
MYRA: I didn’t ask to see his birth certificate when I engaged him.
TONY: Engaged him?
MYRA [briskly]: He’s at a loose end. I wanted someone to help me. He’s here for a while.
TONY [slowly]: He’s staying here?
MYRA: Why not? This empty house … when you’re not here it’s so empty.
TONY: He’s in my room?
MYRA: Yes. He can move out.
TONY: Thanks. [They stare at each other like enemies.]
MYRA: Well, what is it?
TONY: Perhaps you’d rather I moved out.
MYRA: Tony, mind your own bloody business. I’ve never interfered with anything you did.
TONY: No [half-bitter, half-sad]. No, you never did. You never had time.
MYRA [hurt]: That’s unfair.
TONY: And where’s dear Sandy’s mamma?
MYRA: Milly is in Japan.
TONY: And what is dear Sandy’s errant mamma doing in Japan?
MYRA: She’s gone with a delegation of women.
TONY [laughing]: Oh I see. They are conveying the greetings of the British nation, with an apology because our Government uses their part of the world for H-bomb tests.
MYRA [wistfully]: Is it really so funny?
TONY [not laughing]: Hilarious. And why aren’t you with them?
MYRA: Because I was expecting you.
TONY [plaintively]: But you’d forgotten I was coming.
MYRA [irritated]: I might have forgotten that you were expected home at four o’clock on Tuesday the 18th March, 1958, but I was expecting you. Otherwise, of course, I would have gone with Milly.
TONY: But Milly didn’t deny herself the pleasure on Sandy’s account. He could fend for himself.
MYRA: You talk as if … Sandy’s 22. He’s not a little boy who needs his mother to wipe his nose for him. He’s a man.
TONY [terribly hurt]: That must be nice for you. I’m so glad.
MYRA [between her teeth]: My God, Tony. [She moves angrily away.]
TONY: Where are you going?
MYRA: I’m going to demonstrate about the hydrogen bomb outside Parliament with a lot of other women. [as TONY laughs] Yes, laugh, do.
TONY: Oh, I’m not laughing. I do really admire you, I suppose. But what use do you suppose it’s going to be? What good is it?
MYRA [who has responded to his tone like a little girl who has been praised]: Oh, Tony, but of course it’s some good. Surely you think so?
TONY: You’ve been demonstrating for good causes all your life. So many I’ve lost count. And I’m sure you have … And where are we now?
MYRA: How do you know things mightn’t have been worse?
TONY: How could they possibly be worse? How could they?
[He sounds so forlorn, almost tearful, that she impulsively comes to him where he sits on the arm of the sofa, and holds his head against her shoulder, laying her cheek against it.]
One might almost think you were pleased to see me.
MYRA [amazed]: But of course I am. [He smiles, rather sadly.] Of course. [gaily, moving away from him] Tony, I must tell you about what I’m doing. You know we’ve got that big meeting the day after tomorrow.
TONY: Actually, not.
MYRA: We’ve advertised it in all the papers.
TONY: I never read newspapers.
MYRA: Oh. Well, it’s tomorrow. And I’ve worked out a simply marvellous … wait, I’ll show you. [She is fiddling about near the tape-machine.]
TONY: