Ann-Marie MacDonald - Belle Moral - A Natural History

VICTOR. Who’s asking the questions? What did they have for breakfast?

FLORA. Kippers?

VICTOR. “To look at a thing is very different from seeing a thing.”

A beat .

PEARL [intrigued] . Who said that?

VICTOR. Oscar Wilde.

PEARL [dismissive] . Another of your Irishmen.

VICTOR. There is nothing more contrived than realism.

PEARL. “Ism” be hanged, my photo is a true and perfect record.

VICTOR. Your photo may be a record. But Mother’s painting is a map.

PEARL. Of what? The murky recesses of her psyche? What’s the good of that?

VICTOR. Why does it have to be good for anything? Why can’t it simply be beautiful and good for nothing? Like me.

PEARL [returning to her camera, chipper] . Stand up straight now, Victor, and try to look dignified, you’re about to become extinct. Ah, I’ve got it. Get Mother’s bagpipes down, Vickie, and make as though to woo Fate with the mournful tones.

VICTOR [suddenly terribly offended] . That’s no’ funny Pearl.

PEARL. What, I’ve always called you Vickie.

VICTOR. There’s nothing humorous in Mother’s bagpipes.

PEARL. Victor, I am not the mocker of the family. You are the one rendering risible one half your ancestry; I am attempting to immortalize it.

VICTOR [verge of angry tears] . Well you can’t immortalize it, sister dear, because it’s already dead.

He exits through the window .

FLORA. Now Pearl, you know he’s sensitive about his mother.

PEARL. He never knew his mother, Flora.

FLORA. That’s it, dear; she haunts him.

PEARL. I don’t believe in ghosts.

FLORA. That’s of nay concern to the ghosts.

VICTOR’S kilt comes flying in through the window .

FLORA. Poor Victor will catch his death of cold out there on the moor. [Picking up the kilt.] He’s ne’er been strong i’ the lungs.

PEARL. It’s not his lungs that are exposed to the elements, Auntie.

An elderly man enters, slowly, carrying a silver tray with lid .

MAN [to PEARL]. You rang, Miss?

FLORA. Young Farleigh; any sign of the good doctor?

YOUNG FARLEIGH. No’ yit, M’um.

PEARL. Oh yes, the note. Take this to Mr Abbott in town as quickly as possible. [a beat] Perhaps I’ll just run it in myself on my bicycle.

YOUNG FARLEIGH. Ay, Miss. [Slowly goes to exit.]

PEARL. Young Farleigh, who’s the tray for?

He looks at the tray as though noticing it for the first time . FLORA comes to his rescue:

FLORA. It’s for Victor.

PEARL. Well don’t waste your winkles, Victor’s gone off them.

YOUNG FARLEIGH [bewildered] . Winkles? I’ve no’ winkled in years, Miss.

FLORA [pointedly] . Nonsense, you were out half the nicht. [to PEARL] The Farleighs are all great winklers.

PEARL [ lifting the lid] . Mmm, kippers and … boiled sweets. I’ll have the fish in my study, you can give the gobstoppers to Victor.

YOUNG FARLEIGH. Is the lad come haim, then, Miss?

PEARL. I thought you said the tray was for –

FLORA. That will be all, Young Farleigh.

PEARL. Wait. I wish to consult you about a dog.

FLORA and YOUNG FARLEIGH exchange a look .

I want you to find a puppy for my brother. A black one, about yea tall, with a flat head for patting.

YOUNG FARLEIGH. Ay, Miss.

Exit YOUNG FARLEIGH. PEARL lights a cigarette .

FLORA. Must you, Pearl? It’s so unladylike.

PEARL. Flora. [Attempting a casual tone.] Did Mother love me?

FLORA. Of course she did, sweetheart.

PEARL. She’d’ve loved Victor more.

FLORA. Your mother had love enough for a dozen bairns. But she’d scarce laid eyes on Victor’s wee squallin’ face ‘afore she … was carried off.

PEARL [critical] . Mother was always weak.

FLORA. She was a great beauty. “Régine, Régine, my Highland Queen.”

PEARL. I’ll make it up to him with the puppy. Auntie, don’t let Dr Reid leave without looking in, I’ve a question to put to him.

FLORA. Ay, pet.

PEARL [pausing at the exit] . Why have you sent for the doctor first thing in the morning? [worried] You’re no’ ill?

FLORA. Not at all. It’s Young Farleigh. [As though complicity Ay, he’s confused.

PEARL. Well, little wonder; it would appear that of late, no one gets a winkle of sleep under this roof. [Exit.]

FLORA takes VICTOR’S flask from his sporran and has a sip. Regards the family portrait. Backs away from it. Examines it close up. Squints . DR REID exits, carrying his medical bag. They speak urgently, hurriedly .

DR REID. Good morning –

FLORA. Dr Reid, oh thank God, thank you for –

DR REID. I came the moment I received your note, Flora, what is —? [hushed] Where is Pearl?

FLORA. In her study.

DR REID. You’ve not told her.

FLORA. Certainly not.

DR REID. Flora, how in God’s name —?

FLORA. Twas my doing. I sent Young Farleigh to fetch her home.

DR REID. Why?

FLORA. I had no choice, Doctor; I couldna wrest another penny from the estate to pay for the poor creature’s upkeep without first the will being settled, and there was no telling when Victor would –

DR REID. Why didn’t you come to me?

FLORA. Ramsay would no’ approve of charity –

DR REID. charity?! I was his best –

FLORA. I know — I know — I know. [FLORA begins to shiver.]

DR REID. You need a cup of tea, or something stonger, [calling] Young Farleigh –

FLORA. Nay, let him be, he drove through the night. I’m well. Truly.

DR REID. Where have you put the …? Where have you put her?

FLORA. In the attic.

DR REID. Under lock and key.

FLORA [nods, “yes, pulling herself together] .

DR REID. Is it your intention, then, to house the … patient here, indefinitely?

FLORA. No, no, Victor’s come haim this morning, so the will can be –

DR REID. Why then, ’twas all for naught.

FLORA. Ach, you maun think me foolish. A foolish auld woman. Am I, Seamus?

DR REID. Foolish? In this case, Flora, perhaps yes. Old? [kindly] Never. For what would that make me, eh?

A beat .

[apprehensive] How is she?

FLORA. She is … she’s … I canna say, she’s … quiet.

DR REID. Quiet.

FLORA. Ay. Wouldna’ touch a bite o’ breakfast.

DR REID. That’s not surprising; the journey, the shock of new surroundings. Does she … has she spoken?

FLORA. Nay. Not a word.

DR REID. No cries, no … sounds, of any kind?

FLORA. Nothing.

DR REID … How does she look?

A beat .

Has there been any … change?

FLORA. Not apart from one might expect. Given the years. [weeps]

DR REID. Hush, Flora.

FLORA. I promised … Régine –

DR REID. We need not speak of it –

FLORA. I promised. To look after the children.

DR REID. And you have. Hush, now.

YOUNG FARLEIGH enters .

YOUNG FARLEIGH. Mu’m, the doctor is [sees DR REID] here.

A woman screams in the distance . FLORA hurries toward the exit with DR REID in tow. But the cry is repeated and she rushes to the window . YOUNG FARLEIGH sinks onto a chair and closes his eyes .

VOICES OFF. Help! Miss Maclsaac! Send for a doctor! A doctor!

FLORA. God help us.

DR REID. [joining her] . What’s happened? [looking out] Good Lord.

They exit . YOUNG FARLEIGH opens one eye. Lights change, he slowly rises and exits as VICTOR is carried on. Lights back up on: