(in what is almost a whisper) I ask for so little, mother. There have always been some things I couldn’t bring myself to say. But let me offer this. I believe that kindness could playa part in the life that we’ve shared, if only you would stay.
(The mother comes up to her.) MOTHER You knew who he was!
MARTHA (raising her head abruptly) No! I had no idea. My memory had nothing to play with. It was bound to be like that. You said so yourself: the world isn’t reasonable. But you were right to ask. Because if I had known who he was, it would have made no difference. I feel sure of that now.
MOTHER I’d like to think that isn’t true. There must be limits, even for murderers.
MARTHA And I know mine. But I wouldn’t feel obliged to kneel to a brother that I never knew.
MOTHER So who would you kneel to? MARTHA (kneeling) To you. And only you. (Silence.)
MOTHER (slowly) It’s too late, Martha. I can do nothing £or you. (She turns round to £ace her daughter.) You’re not crying, are you?
No. Of course not. You wouldn’t know how. Do you remember the time when I used to hold you?
MARTHA No, mother.
MOTHER It’s not surprising. It’s a very long time ago, and I soon forgot to open my arms to you. But I’ve never stopped loving you. (She moves Martha gently aside, and little by little she yields to pressure.) I can say that now. My heart has found its voice at last. Well after time. And at the very moment when I can’t face the thought of it, life has begun again. (The doorway is now clear.)
MARTHA (putting her face in her hands) Could anything be stronger than a daughter’s despair ?
MOTHER Exhaustion could be. And the need for rest. (She goes out. Martha makes no attempt to stop her.)
Scene two
(Martha runs to the door and slams it viciously, pressing herself against it. She screams like an animal.)
MARTHA Why me ? How could I have known? Why should I have cared? He’s stolen my future, and stripped me of a mother’s love, left me alone in a land I could never call my own. But how could I have known? Why must innocence always be answered with the blast of injustice? He had everything, and I have nothing. A life spent in waiting for the wave that would sweep me away. And now it will never come. I’ll never get away. I’m stuck here forever. The wind blows off the sea. But it’s blocked by the mountains. The constant call of thudding waves is lost in the confusion as each state and every race adds its contribution to the swirling mass of murmurings that surrounds me on every side. (In a calmer voice.) Others are luckier. The evening breeze reaches them and carries with it in its journey far from the shore a light scent of happiness in the smell of the sea. It speaks to them of streaming sands, of screaming seagulls wheeling above them, and of beaches stained with sun as the shadows grow longer in the slow hours of evening. But the wind is drained of sense before it reaches me. The debt owed to me will never be paid. I shall never feel the pulse of a sea without sorrow. I’m too far from what I love, and there’s no remedy for that. What could I do? Put my ear to the ground? Would the waves speak to me across such a distance.
Oh, how I hate him! I hate him for having what he wanted. The only home I’ll ever know is this sullen land of walls. My hunger must be satisfied by the sickly fruit that ripens under this small patch of sky, and there’s nothing for my thirst. The blood I have spilt will have to serve for that. And all for a mother who had to love her son!
Well, let her die if she can’t love me! The doors can close around me. I’m left with my anger, my one, proud possession! I shan’t pray. The prospect of death won’t turn my eyes to heaven. A land of freedom and escape knows no gods! There’s no place for them where the sea stands guard as you surge through the waves or sink beneath the pressure of a body thrust on yours. But here… the eyes meet walls, and the shape of the country conforms to a design that forces you to search the sky in a servile gasp for grace! How I hate a world which wears us down until we scream for salvation! But I shan’t kneel. The blast of injustice won’t shatter me. I’ll stand alone, surrounded by my crimes. I’ve been denied everything, and stripped of my mother’s love. I have no home. But I shan’t capitulate. I’ll leave this world the alien that I have always been!
(There is a knock at the door.)
Scene three
MARTHA Who is it ? MARIA A traveller.
MARTHA We’re closed for business.
MARIA I’ve come to find my husband. (She comes in.)
MARTHA (looking at her) And who is your husband?
MARIA He came here yesterday, and was due to rejoin me this morning. But he hasn’t. I don’t know what’s happened.
MARTHA He said his wife wasn’t with him.
MARIA He had his reasons. But it’s high time we were together again. MARTHA (who is still looking at her) That might be difficult. Your husband isn’t here.
MARIA Are you sure? I thought he’d taken a room with you?
MARTHA He did. But he left. Last night.
MARIA I can’t believe it. He had a great many reasons for wanting to stay here. I don’t like the sound of this. Tell me everything you know.
MARTHA I know very little. Just that he’s no longer here.
MARIA But he couldn’t have left without me. I don’t understand. Did he leave for good, or was he coming back?
MARTHA He left for good.
MARIA Look, ever since yesterday I’ve been waiting patiently, alone and in a foreign country. But now my patience is running out.
I was worried enough to come here, and I don’t intend to leave until I’ve seen my husband, or found out where he is. I must have him back.
MARTHA I’m afraid it’s none of my business.
MARIA Well that’s where you’re wrong. It’s very much your business. I don’t know if my husband would approve of this, but I’m sick of all this mystery. The man who came to stay with you yesterday morning was your own brother. You’d been out of touch for a long time, I know, but he was your brother. MARTHA I knew that already.
MARIA (losing her self-control) Then what on earth has happened? If he’s your brother and this is your house, why isn’t he here?
You knew who he was. Weren’t you both pleased to see him? Delighted he’d come back?
MARTHA Your husband isn’t here because he’s no longer with us. Because he’s dead.
(Maria spins round and stands for a moment speechless. Her eyes never leave Martha’s face. Eventually she makes a movement in her direction, and smiles.)
MARIA I presume you’re joking. Jan said you liked to do that, even as a little girl. That you liked upsetting people. Now, we’re the next best thing to sisters…
MARTHA Don’t touch me. Stay where you are. We have nothing in common. (Pause.) Your husband died last night. I’m not joking, I assure you. There’s nothing more to keep you here. Not now.
MARIA You must be mad. Stark, staring mad. All right. Show me the body. Then I’ll believe you. But I can’t, I won’t! You just can’t mean it.
MARTHA That’s not possible. To show you the body. Where he is no-one can see him.
(Maria makes another move towards her.)
I told you not to touch me and to stay where you were …He’s at the bottom of the river. We gave him a drug to make him sleep. Then we carried him down to the river. His mother and myself. He’s dead and we killed him. But at least he didn’t suffer.
MARIA (taking a step back) No, no… it must be me that’s mad. No-one talks like this. No-one has ever talked like this. And no one can ever, ever, have heard anything like… I knew this
place had nothing good in store for me, but I am by no means ready to play a part in this madhouse. I just don’t understand. There must be something I don’t understand.
MARTHA All I can do is to tell you the facts. The rest
