Doris Lessing - Play With a Tiger and Other Plays

MYRA [ dry and bitter ]: If you’ve lain in a man’s arms every night for five years and he’s thrown you over as if you were a tart he’d picked up in Brighton for the week-end, then the word friend has to be used with – a certain amount of irony, let’s say. [ briskly ] We’ve been good friends ever since, yes.

[TONY slowly rises, stands facing her. ]

TONY: Why do you talk like that to me ?

MYRA [ noticing him ]: What’s the matter now? Oh, I see. [ contemptuous ] You’re not five years old. Why do you expect me to treat you as if you were five years old?

TONY: Perhaps I am five years old. But this is after all an extraordinary outburst of emotion. Dear Uncle Philip has been in and out of this house for years. Whenever he’s in London he might just as well be living here. I can’t remember a time when you and Uncle Philip in animated conversation wasn’t a permanent feature of the landscape.

MYRA [ drily ]: I am the woman Philip talks to, yes.

TONY: Why all this emotion, suddenly?

MYRA: He has not before asked me to put up his prospective wife.

TONY: For God’s sake, why should you care? You’ve lain in men’s arms since, haven’t you? Well, isn’t that how you want me to talk, like a big boy?

MYRA: I suppose you will grow up some day. [ goes to the foot of the stairs ] When’s she coming?

TONY: Some time later this evening, he said. And he’s coming, too. We’re going to have a jolly family evening.

MYRA: You’ll have to look after her until I get back. We must be perfectly charming to her.

TONY: I don’t see why you should be if you don’t feel like it.

MYRA: You don’t see why?

TONY: No. I’m really interested. Why?

MYRA: Pride.

TONY [ laughing ]: Pride! You! [ He collapses on the divan laughing. ]

MYRA [ hurt ]: Oh, go to hell, you bloody little …

[ Her tone cuts his laughter. He sits stiffly in the corner of the divan. She makes an angry gesture and runs up the stairs. Before she is out of sight she is humming: ‘Boohoo, you’ve got me crying for you’. TONY strips off his uniform and puts on black trousers and a black sweater. He rolls up the uniform like dirty washing and stuffs it into the knapsack. He throws the knapsack into a cupboard. He stands unhappily smoothing back his hair with both hands. Then he goes to the looking-glass and stands smoothing his hair back and looking at his face. While he does this , SANDY very quietly comes down the stairs behind him. He is an amiable young man at ease in his world. ]

SANDY [ quietly ]: Hullo, Tony.

TONY [ still standing before the looking-glass. He stiffens, letting his hands drop. He slowly turns, with a cold smile ]: Hullo, Sandy.

SANDY [ at ease ]: I see you’ve disposed of the war paint already.

TONY: Yes.

SANDY: That’s a very elegant sweater.

TONY [ responding ]: Yes, it’s rather nice, isn’t it … [ Disliking himself because he has responded, he stiffens up. He roughly rumples up his hair and hitches his shoulders uncomfortably in the sweater. ] Don’t care what I wear.

SANDY: I’ll move my things out of your room. Sorry, but we didn’t expect you today.

TONY: Next time we will give you good warning.

SANDY: Cigarette?

TONY: That’s a very smart cigarette case. No thanks.

SANDY: Mother brought it back from China last year. You remember she went?

TONY: Yes, I remember. Mother went, too. I suppose one does have to go to China for one’s cigarette cases.

SANDY: I’m rather fond of it myself. [ pause ] Did you know I was helping Myra with her work?

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