CHARACTERS
| SIDNEY COLLYWESTON...... | ......the Pope's brother |
| GREGORY COLLYWESTON...... | ......the Pope |
| TOMASSO TARTUFARI...... | ......a high flying priest |
| CLAUDIA TARTUFARI...... | ......his sister |
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE...... | ......to whom Sidney confesses |
| PYJAMAS...... | ......a betting man |
| PUNTER | |
| SWISS GUARD | |
| MEDDLESOME PRIEST | |
| WILMA SPANGERHUFF (an American tourist) | |
| SANDRO | |
| WOMAN IN THE CORSO | |
| MAN IN THE CORSO | |
| JUNTA GENERAL SABATO | |
| GOD | |
| SISTER BRIDGET | |
|
Somewhere in Italy.
Acoustic of a cathedral. Choir practising in background. Sudden rush of clip-clopping footsteps. |
|
| SIDNEY: |
(breathless, worried). You are Cardinal Ngoupande, are you not? THE Cardinal Ngoupande.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
(a deep, African voice). I think so.
|
| SIDNEY: |
I must talk to you.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
I am very busy just now. Perhaps another time.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(increasingly agitated) You don't understand. It's urgent, important. He's after me.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
Who? |
| SIDNEY: |
Him! Him! You know!
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
(humouring a looney). Ah, him! (Calling.) Sister, take this gentleman outside and give him a plate of spaghetti.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Look! Look! This beard I'm wearing. (Whispers.) It's false.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
I would never have guessed.
|
| SIDNEY: |
I'm Sidney Collyweston. See! THE Sidney Collyweston.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
Do I know you?
|
| SIDNEY: |
We've not quite met, no. I'm the Pope's brother.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
(with sudden diplomatic largesse). Quite all right, Sister. I'll deal with this matter, thank you. (To SIDNEY) Come, I know a more private place.
|
|
They walk: their steps on cathedral stone.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
(breathlessly, trying to keep up). My brother said, he said once that if there was a crisis, I should seek you out. Cardinal Ngoupande, he said, has a heart as big as the rest of him. (More breathless.) He said… he said… he said you were the most incorruptible man in the world.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
(a deep rolling laugh). |
| SIDNEY: |
It's true though, isn't it?
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
Here we are.
|
|
Plinking of a curtain being opened.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
In there? A confessing box? Not me, old darling.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
Do please hurry, man. That beard of yours isn't fooling anyone, you know.
|
| SIDNEY: |
All right, all right.
|
|
Plinking of a curtain being closed. Woody clunks as SIDNEY seats himself. Acoustic of the confessional. |
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
Yes.
|
| SIDNEY: |
What?
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
You have some things to tell me.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Right … errrrm. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is errrrrrrm … forty-seven years since my last confession. Sorry. (In sudden agitated despair.) Look – I've done terrible things, of course … I've been a scoundrel all my life. But I'm not here about that. I'm here about what happened here. In Rome. I must fill you in.
(Increasingly agitated and loud.) It's all Pyjamas' fault. They call him Pyjamas because he always wears pyjamas: he lives behind the betting shop where he works, you see, and never bothers to change. If he hadn't told me, about my brother, I would never have known. It's not that long ago I found out that the Duke of Edinburgh isn't a Scotsman. I mean, people were complaining about Margaret Thatcher for years and I thought she was a singer. I only read the racing pages, you see.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
Calm down now, there's a good fellow. And not so loud.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(whispers). Do you think he's out there, listening? (Pause.) I'll start at the betting shop, shall I? Or should I start with the chocolate? Or the murder - that was the worst? (Becoming louder again, more confident.) No, the betting shop, I think, give you a fuller picture that way or you'll not follow any of it. (Fade up betting shop, race commentary, him of punters.) … I was waiting for the 2.30 from Utoxeter when I popped a button. I'd put on a stone or two, you see: it just flew off, like a … what do they call those things? - a crosby! So I was looking for it on the floor when Pyjamas comes in and sticks a rolled newspaper up my bottom.
|
|
In the betting shop.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
(as the newspaper has been stuck up his bottom). Ooooooooo! Pyjamas, you idiot! Help me find my button, will you?
|
| PYJAMAS: |
Here you are, Guv'nor!
|
| SIDNEY: |
Since when have I been 'Governor' to you?
|
| PYJAMAS: |
You lucky fat sod!
|
| SIDNEY: |
Huh?
|
| PYJAMAS: |
You got a result, best you ever had.
|
| SIDNEY: |
The race hasn't started yet.
|
| PYJAMAS: |
You don't look nothing like him.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Who?
|
| PYJAMAS: |
Who d'you think: Rubstic? Aldaniti? Shergar?
|
| SIDNEY: |
(irritated). What?
|
| PYJAMAS: |
Your broffha. You's twins, isn't yers?
|
| SIDNEY: |
(with nostalgic awe). My brother.
|
| PYJAMAS: |
First English Pope in 468 years. Him! Your broffha. They made him Pope.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Getaway!
|
| PYJAMAS: |
Straight up! There's ees mugshot.
|
|
Rustle of newspaper as SIDNEY snatches it.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
Where's this, then?
|
| PYJAMAS: |
Know yer own broffha, don't yerh?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Haven't set eyes on him in over thirty years. What, THAT … nothing like him - nothing like me, anyway. Good God, it is him! It really is. Gregory Collyweston. (Can't believe the good luck.) I knew he'd joined up, but Pope. That's good going, isn't it?
|
| PYJAMAS: |
Leader of the world's 900 million Catholics, comprising 18.4 per cent of the world's population.
|
| SIDNEY: |
No! Ha! Ha! Ha! (Suddenly awestruck.) Wait on, if he's Pope, what does that make me?
|
| PYJAMAS: |
A jammy sod.
|
| SIDNEY: |
What a stroke! I'll be an archbishop or something, do you think? If he's Holy I can't be far from it myself. We're almost the same man, for God's sake!
|
| PYJAMAS: |
How come he's the Pope, then, and you're THAT?
|
| SIDNEY: |
What?
|
| PYJAMAS: |
That.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Look here … I'm not such a nag. I'm a proper thoroughbred, you know – was, anyway, in my younger days.
|
| PYJAMAS: |
No more worries now though. Yer can write yerh own cheque, Colly, mate. Yer've got something on him, haven't yer? Must have, from way back, yerh own broffha – must have.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Well, yes, I don't know. But I'll bet he'll be pleased to see me if I turn up. Pope wouldn't be beastly to his own flesh-and-blood, despite my wasted life. Might even let me borrow a palace or something, full of nuns to do my bidding.
|
|
A huge dirty guffaw from them both.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
(with airy delight, on his way). Jam on both sides for me from now on, old darling!
|
| PYJAMAS: |
(calling after). Here! Don't you want to see if your gee-gee's won?
|
| SIDNEY: |
(calls back). Couldn't care less! |
| PYJAMAS: |
(yells, a touch of earnestness). Colly! Send me some silk pyjamas, will yer, Colly, eh? A yella pair!
|
| SIDNEY: |
(hurrying back). Errrmm … Rome … that's in Italy, isn't it?
|
| PYJAMAS: |
(can't believe he's asking). Yeah.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(on his way again). Just checking.
|
| PYJAMAS: |
(after a private dirty laugh). Here, see that geezer who just went out?
|
| PUNTER: |
(angrily). No.
|
| PYJAMAS: |
Pope's brother. Straight up.
|
| PUNTER: |
(in scornful disbelief) Errrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!
|
|
Acoustic of confessional.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
(suddenly close, in confessional). I admit it – hadn't the foggiest where Italy was. But I can't know everything, can I? Never been abroad before, you see. Never been anywhere if a horse wasn't involved – though I did consider emigrating after what they did to Lester Piggott. Had a passport, though – you know, just in case. Especially after that doping business.
|
|
Tinkle of Italian music in background.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
Italy! Ah! Took the train, of course. Wouldn't get me up in a Hairyplane, no fear! Ate a man's sandwich when he slipped out of the compartment for a widdle. Gave me a strange dream, that sandwich … I was being eaten by failed racehorses: they'd all escaped from the knackers yard and blamed me for their misfortunes: I'd bet on their noses you see, old darling, so they had to lose, just had to. Did you know they eat horse here? Of course you do. I expect that's what it was in the sandwich. I'm telling you all this because I'm sure Greg would want me to tell you everything … I'm an idiot, you see, I don't know what's important.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
(calmly). Keep going with it, please. You have arrived in Rome.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Yes. Yes. Ah! I'm in Rome, then, I've arrived. (Bring up sounds of Rome.) I'm in the Vatican, looking up at Saint Peter's with my guidebook in my hand. So I somehow find my way to an official-looking bit but get myself collared by one of those funny-looking Swiss Guard chappies. Huge! Stood right in my way.
|
|
Exterior acoustic. Distant sound of traffic, of tourist guide yakking to his flock. |
|
| SIDNEY: |
Excuse me, I'd like to see the Pope, please.
|
| SWISS GUARD: |
Mi scusi, signore?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Tell him it's Sidney. He'll understand. Give him one helluva shock, mind!
|
| SWISS GUARD: |
Mi dispiace ma non capisco.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Go on, man. Don't just stand there. Get on with it. Look: Me – Sidney Collyweston. Yes? Pope: your Pope – he Gregory Collyweston. Mio Brothero. Comprenday?
|
| SWISS GUARD: |
You go away please.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(raising his voice). I just want to see the Pope. It's not much to ask.
|
| PRIEST: |
(approaching, thick Italian accent). Perhaps I can be of some assistance.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Hum? Ah, thankyou. I'm trying to explain to the General here: I'm Sidney Collyweston, the Pope's brother, you see.
|
| PRIEST: |
Ah!
|
| SIDNEY: |
I just heard he got the job on Wednesday and I came straight over. Frightfully hot, isn't it?
|
| PRIEST: |
(to SWISS GUARD). Questo signore e' americano. Lui sta cercando suo fratello che cucina in un ristorante in Piazza Morgana ma si e' dimenticato il nome del ristorante.
|
| SWISS GUARD: |
Si, la' c'e' un eccellente ristorante. Il Baccala' e' superbo. Non ho mai provato gli spaghetti.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(losing confidence). He'll be awfully pleased to see me. He'll make it worth your while.
|
| PRIEST: |
I tell you where to go, please. I give directions, okay?
|
|
Acoustic of confessional.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
(in confessional). Fobbed me off, didn't he! I ended up in a cake shop in the Via Veneto. Lovely cakes, mind you. (In sudden despair.) I hope you're following this. Should I tell you about the murder now and get it out of the way?
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
Why don't you tell me how you met up with His Holiness.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(enthusing again). Ah! Yes! I can tell you that! They have these huge great audiences every now and then in the morning. To see the Pope. Thousands there, just like Derby Day. Every kind of nun, cripples, you name it. That's when I saw him. I was way at the back and he was coming to the front, blessing people with his fingers. (In audience hall, yelling.) Greg! Greg! Gregory! It's me! (In confessional.) They started dragging me off. Half a dozen bishops strangling me with my binoculars. But I gave them the slip, crawled about under everybody's legs like a jockey thrown off at Beecher's Brook. I popped up near the front. (In audience hall.) Greg! I say, Greg! (In confessional, complains.) They were hitting me with their Bibles. An evil-smelling Johnny in sunglasses had me in an armlock. (In audience hall.) Oooh! Arrh! Look at my face, man! I haven't changed that much. (Desperate.) Greggggggggggggg!!!!!! (Partly muffled.) 'I'm the King of the Castle and you're the dirty … mmmm … mmmm … mmmmmmmmm' (In confessional.) They were bustling him away. Dozens of dark-suited bodies were between us. All I could see of him was one of his eyes, don't know which one. Then someone gave me a godalmighty wallop and at the same moment Greg's eye wrinkled up in pain, just as if they'd hit him and not me. He knew who I was then: I saw the moment. One word from him and they gave me my arms back, dusted me off and marched me into a smallish gold room full of crucifixions and men in silly hats … |
|
Interior acoustic.
|
|
| GREG: |
(highly emotional). Sidney! Sidney! Heaven be praised!!!
|
| SIDNEY: |
Hullo, big brother!
|
| GREG: |
(laughing). Only by five minutes!
|
| SIDNEY: |
Looks like fifty years if you want the truth. What have you been doing to yourself, boy!
|
| GREG: |
(happily). Nothing much.
|
| SIDNEY: |
I mean to say, Greg, old darling, I spend my life wallowing in every indulgence, up to my knees in damp racecourses every day and I couldn't be lovelier! You've been at best behaviour for forty years and you look like our Granny! Devil looks after his own, what? Ooops, sorry.
|
| GREG: |
(chuckling). You're just the same. (In pride and delight announces to the throng.) This is my brother Sidney.
|
| ROOMFUL OF CLERICS: |
Pleased to meet you.
|
| SIDNEY: |
How'd you do.
|
| GREG: |
(suddenly earnest, intimate). Last night, Sidney, I prayed harder than I have ever prayed before. I prayed for guidance and the Blessed Lord has sent YOU, Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(his first attempt to be truthful). No. No. He doesn't know me, honestly.
|
| GREG: |
You are wrong, Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
You should know! Ha! Ha! (A sudden idea.) Listen! Ha! Orange cake!
|
| GREG: |
Orange cake?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Yes, yes. In the taxi this morning. It stopped at some traffic lights and everything suddenly reeked of orange cake. I asked the driver where it was coming from but they only speak Latin around here. Don't you remember?
|
| GREG: |
What?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Our Mam's orange cake.
|
| GREG: |
No.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Yes you do. With the hundreds and thousands on the top.
|
| GREG: |
Yes! Yes! I remember! (Weeping.) O, sweet Jesus! Sweet Jesus, thank you!!
|
| SIDNEY: |
(with GREG snuffling behind him). I nearly cried myself, I can tell you. Very devout our Mam, wasn't she? I expect that's where you get it from. And cruel, let's be fair, she was quite horridly cruel, but only to me and the family pets.
|
| GREG: |
Shall we stand for a few moments in silent prayer?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Er … all right.
|
|
A long prayerful silence, long enough to make people think their radios have broken. Then SIDNEY, clearing his throat, then others in background. GREG murmurs an Amen. A hum of response.
|
|
| GREG: |
You will stay, won't you, Sidney?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Hm?
|
| GREG: |
Here with me?
|
| SIDNEY: |
(playing hard-to-get very badly). Well, I don't know. I have business interests at home, you see, needing constant attention.
|
| GREG: |
(crestfallen). Oh.
|
| SIDNEY: |
The turf, you know. I must keep up or I'll lose all idea of form. Where a horse is concerned you have to know everything, something's not enough.
|
| GREG: |
I'm sure, yes. Oh, you know so much about the World, Sidney! I can see it in your eyes. (To CARDINALS.) You can, can't you, see it in his eyes?
|
|
A murmur of assent.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
(confused). I'm not mug, if that's what you mean.
|
| GREG: |
(with deep humility). Please, Sidney, stay, and help me combat my unworthiness.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Well, if you put it like that …
|
|
GREG and SIDNEY laugh joyously, SIDNEY losing all restraint.
|
|
| GREG: |
(calling). Tommaso!
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(a soft, sinister voice). Holy Father.
|
| GREG: |
Sidney, this is Father Tartufari, one of the brightest young men in our Curia. He will look after you.
|
| SIDNEY: |
How's tricks?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
I am much better, thank you.
|
| GREG: |
(quietly to SIDNEY) Father Tartufari is recovering from an operation …
|
| SIDNEY: |
Ooo!
|
| GREG: |
… brain surgery. We rejoice that he has been spared. You won't wear him out, will you, Sidney?
|
| SIDNEY: |
No. No. (Transparently caddish.) Oh, Greg. One thing. You don't have a bit of spare cash, do you? A few zillion of that Lira stuff will suffice, just for pocket money. I came away in such a rush and the banks were closed.
|
| GREG: |
Of course. Of course. Tartufari will look after you. Just ask him. He'll give you anything you need.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Anything?
|
| GREG: |
(in joyful remembrance). How much pocket money did we get?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Oooooh, a threepenny bit a week … to share.
|
| GREG: |
Yes! Yes!
|
| SIDNEY: |
I had a moustache before it went up to sixpence.
|
|
They laugh together. Fade the laughter.
|
|
|
Fade up SIDNEY and TARTUFARI entering room. |
|
| TARTUFARI: |
This way, this way, please, here we are.
|
|
Door closes.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
(hugely impressed). I say, this is rather plush! All mine, is it?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Yes, sir.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Call me Colly, please. All the chaps do. (Walking around the room.) This furniture's rather super. Frightfully modern.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Made by our finest Italian designers. Do you like it? If it is not to your taste …
|
| SIDNEY: |
Oh, erm … yes, it's the bee's knees, champion stuff. This a chair, is it?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(pleased). I have supervised the selection during my convalescence. I am doing only light work.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Who's the Sinatra fan?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(bashfully). The Holy Father and myself. It is something we share from the old days.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Ah.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
You?
|
| SIDNEY: |
What?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Frank Sinatra.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Take him or leave him.
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| TARTUFARI: |
I have installed the hi-fi myself. Shall I play a record for us?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Go on, then.
|
|
Sinatra sings 'Night and Day', loudly for a moment, then turned down.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
A tumour, was it?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Sorry?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Your operation.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Two tumours, I regret to say. A purple-hot poker on each side of my head.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Hard cheese. (Boasts happily.) I've never been ill, not even for a day, ever – what do you think of that?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Most fortunate.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Still, your hair's growing back nicely.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Thankyou, yes.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(with a guffaw). Wish mine would! Errrrm, is that the Leaning Tower of Pisa I can see?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
It is in Pisa.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Hum?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Pisa is far away, another city.
|
| SIDNEY: |
That's not it then?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
No.
|
| SIDNEY: |
All those rooftops. Makes you wonder what's going on underneath, what? Wonderful to be able to see in. Greg and I had a castle when we were kiddies – toy one, you understand! – and you could lift the roof off and see our soldiers standing about inside. Of course God can, can't he?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
I'm sorry?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Can see through rooftops.
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| TARTUFARI: |
You have faith, Colly?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Don't follow?
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| TARTUFARI: |
You believe in God?
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| SIDNEY: |
Silly question! I'm the Pope's brother, aren't I? Course I do. (An afterthought.) When I think about it.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(walking away). There is an even better view from the bedroom. There is a balcony.
|
|
He opens the bedroom doors. Chimes tinkle lightly in the breeze. Sinatra sings more distantly.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
(following). Corrrrr … a four-poster!!!! (Jumps on to it – it squeaks as he bounces on it, laughing.) Ha! Ha! Ha! Never slept in one of these before.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Twelve Popes have died in that bed.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(stops bouncing, worried). Errrrr! No ghosts, I hope?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(the slightest touch of amusement). I don't think so. But then I have not slept there.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Oh, don't, don't.
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| TARTUFARI: |
If you need me for any reason I am just down the corridor. The gold door next to the Botticelli.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Botticelli. Got it! That's a painting, isn't it? Just checking.
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| TARTUFARI: |
(taking his leave). You must be very tired.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Wait, please. One thing. About Greg. The Holy thingummy. He's all right, is he? He said he'd been ill.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
He is well, thankyou. Being Pope is proving a great strain upon his constitution, of course.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Yes, yes, I'm sure. I wouldn't do it! I'll see him later, shall I?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Tomorrow. At breakfast. (On his way.) I don't eat. Sister Bridget will show you the way.
|
|
Door closes behind him.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
(calling after him). Thanks, awfully!
|
|
Pause. Telephone being dialled. Sinatra in background. |
|
| SIDNEY: |
(hollering down phone). Hello! Hello! Maxie! That you? Yes, yes, I'm in Rome, you know, staying with my brother. Erm, could you read out the card for Newmarket this afternoon? (Distant hum of his bookmaker reading the card.) Arh! Oooo! Yes. I'll have a monkey on that please. Yes. Yes. On account. That's all right, isn't it? – of course. What? Oh, that's Frank Sinatra. He has the room next to mine, you know. In the bath, yes. (Hollers into room.) Keep the noise down, Frank! (Laughs hugely.)
|
|
Fade up sounds of many people breakfasting in a large room. |
|
| SIDNEY: |
(approaching). Good morning, one and all!!!
|
| GREG: |
Good morning, Sidney. Sleep well?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Like a dead horse, thankyou. (Pulling out his chair and sitting down.) I say, you don't do bad, do you. What a spread! Breakfast at home, I have two stale twiglets and a licorice allsort. (Whispers.) Don't they ever leave you alone, these decrepit Bishops?
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| GREG: |
It seems not.
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| SIDNEY: |
(to Bishops). Morning. Morning. (Brightly, to GREG)Hey, look, I'm the only one here who isn't a Bishop! You couldn't, could you?
|
| GREG: |
Pardon?
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| SIDNEY: |
Make me a Bishop!
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| GREG: |
(laughs). Don't want to be like the Borgias, do we?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Hmmm? Oh. Ha! Ha! I should say not! Hmm?
|
| GREG: |
I have thought of you every day, Sidney, all those years. I've often wanted to see you. But my life has been such a struggle with faith, and illness, and the great responsibilities the Lord has seen fit to bestow upon me. I did not wish to burden you.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(tucking in, mouth full). Oh, you should have, old darling!
|
| GREG: |
(starkly). Sidney, I have just told you a lie. It's unforgivable. I must tell you the truth. I hope this doesn't hurt you in any way, Sidney, but I must speak what is in my heart.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(gulps his food, preparing for the worst). Don't say it, Greg, please. I know, I'm a terrible lump … I must be dripping with sins …
|
| GREG: |
You have been the great joy of my life.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(amazed at being let off). Have I?
|
| GREG: |
We are joined at the soul, you and I. You must have guessed it.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(eating again). Don't go all soppy on me.
|
| GREG: |
(his sentences trailing off slightly in an Anglican manner). When I was in the monastery, quite a young man, it was a constant wonder to my superiors that I was so informed about the world and its ways, although I never stepped outside our walls except perhaps to banish a cat I'd found in our vegetable garden. I understood things that it was impossible for me to understand. Mere intuition couldn't account for it, No, it was your doing, Sidney. Everything you have felt in your wonderful busy life: the joy, pains and sorrows, I have felt also. Somethng in me has lived your every moment. It has been the making of me, the greatest enrichment of my life, a gift beyond measure. (Pause.) But you, Sidney?
|
| SIDNEY: |
(mouth full). Humm?
|
| GREG: |
Have you really felt nothing of my struggle?
|
| SIDNEY: |
(bluff, but with a sudden sad truthfulness). I'm an oaf, dear, I thought you knew.
|
| GREG: |
You don't know yourself well enough, little brother. You are a most unique fellow.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(unbelieving). I am? (Believing.) Of course I am.
|
| GREG: |
With a gift for happiness that the whole world has need of.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Look, do you think you've been working too hard?
|
| GREG: |
When you had your accident, I was so worried. I was unconscious myself, of couse, but, strangest thing, I was praying for you … in my sleep.
|
| SIDNEY: |
I've never had an accident.
|
| GREG: |
Three years ago. September. You had a fall.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Fall? Fall? Oh, you mean that night I was blind drunk and got run over by a milk cart. Not a scratch. Miracle, mind you, they all said.
|
| GREG: |
(with import). I was in hospital till Christmas. I have had a certain numbness in my back ever since.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Lost me, sorry.
|
| GREG: |
That time at Ampleforth, the term before you were expelled. You were beaten up, remember?
|
| SIDNEY: |
(joyously). When I put glue in that swot's desk!
|
| GREG and SIDNEY: |
(together). But it was the wrong desk!!!!!
|
| GREG: |
It was that giant's desk. He dragged you into an empty classroom. Gave you what for.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(boasts airily). His best punches just bounced off me. I whacked him into submission with a stray cricket-stump.
|
| GREG: |
They found me flat out in the locker-room, same afternoon.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Sorry, doesn't ring a bell.
|
| GREG: |
(irritated with SIDNEY's slowness). Oh, Sidney! How could you not know!! We are like the Corsican Brothers, you and I. The twins in the Douglas Fairbanks picture. One's asleep in Corsica and the other is wounded in a duel in Paris. The sleeping one wakes up, screaming, feeling his brother's hurt. We are like that, at least I am with you. When you were struck by that milk cart, I received the injuries.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Never!
|
| GREG: |
Every time you catch a cold, I catch a cold.
|
| SIDNEY: |
I've never had a cold.
|
| GREG: |
Then I catch them for you.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Straight up? Jolly decent of you. (It sinks in.) I'd have been more careful, if I'd known. Wrapped up in the cold and wotnot.
|
| GREG: |
That's what I'm trying to say. It's the real reason I've kept out of contact with you. It would have ruined your life, if you'd known. It wouldn't have been your own life anymore. Do you understand, Sidney?
|
| SIDNEY: |
(laughs). You really mean, if I poke myself with my fork like this, you can feel it?
|
| GREG: |
Ow! Yes.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Ha! Ha! Isn't life a wonder?
|
| GREG: |
(with the intonation of Chamberlain declaring war). I felt I had to tell you now. God has brought you here to help me, Sidney. All our long entwined lives he has been preparing us. Now our time of testing has arrived. (Pause.) Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
I'm with you. Really. Yes.
|
| GREG: |
Whatever goodness there is in me has flowed into you, Sidney, and made you the man you are. I'm sure of it! And your vitality, your Lebensfunke, has sparked in me and caused my bruised soul to rise. There must be no secrets between us. Our lives are one, Sidney. |
| SIDNEY: |
(slow-wittedly awestruck). Yes…yes…we must be one, musn't we, come to think of it. I mean, at my end I've had some rum moments in the past, almost did some truly dreadful things … (Suddenly bluff and cheery again.) … but something always held me back. I'll bet it was you, transmitting your big conscience into my little one, bobbing around in there like … a warm duck in a cold bath.
|
| GREG: |
(utterly lost, as if he's never heard of ducks, warm or otherwise). A warm duck, Sidney?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Don't you have ducks here then? England's full of them these days.
|
| GREG: |
Ah, Tommaso!
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Good morning, Holy Father.
|
| GREG: |
What have you got planned for my brother today?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
A tour of the Eternal City, if he wishes.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Spiffo!
|
|
Suddenly: zippy Italian music Fade music, fade up frantic Rome traffic. Acoustic of the car which TARTUFARI is driving. |
|
| TARTUFARI: |
This morning we will see the Forum, the Colosseum, the Arch of Constantine. Then we have lunch in the Piazza Navona: very nice restaurant, I ate there with great pleasure before I was ill. Then we visit churches, many, many churches: Santa Maria Maggiore, Santa Maria del Popolo, San Giovani in Laterano, San Pietro in Vincoli…and we finish with a nice long walk around the Vatican Museum. I drive you around first, okay?
|
| SIDNEY: |
I'm all yours.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
On our right we have the Mausoleum of the Emperor Augustus.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(profoundly uninterested). Oh, yes.
|
|
Lots of horns peeping in traffic jams.
|
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(under his breath). Andiamo! Andiamo!
|
|
Their car starts off again.
|
|
| TARTUFARI: |
This is the Piazza del Popolo. You see here we have the old gates of the city. In bygone times it is here that the pilgrims entered Rome from the North.
|
| SIDNEY: |
All roads lead to Rome, eh?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
That's right. We have here Santa Maria del Popolo and Santa Maria in Monte. Very beautiful. We shall see inside them another day.
|
|
Mad screech of brakes, angry peeping. TARTUFARI winds down window, letting more noise in.
|
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(fast and furious). Ehi! Oh burino! Ma che fai non ci vedi! Che ti credi di fare! Ehi! Ehi! Tu cerchi d'ammazzarmi! D'ammazzare il mio amico!!! Tu lo sai chi e'!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! Va all'inferno! Va all'inferno o ti ci mando io stesso! Idiota! Idiota! (To SIDNEY) You see that! (To his fellow motorist.) Errrrrrrrrgh, you!
|
|
They drive off with a screech and a lurch and a yelp from SIDNEY, TARTUFARI muttering under his breath.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
(after another yelp). Bit of Irish in you, what?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(snaps). What you say?
|
| SIDNEY: |
(calls over the noise of traffic). I say, there's a demon in you when you're roused.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(couldn't be more contrite). Please. I apologise. Forgive me. I am supposed to stay calm. My operation, you understand, I am not quite the same. (Quickly returning to his travelogue voice.) Here we are driving down the Corso. It is the main shopping street of Rome.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Oooh!!! Do you think we could stop for a minute. A present for a friend at home: a pair of yellow pyjamas, silk. Should be no trouble?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
No trouble.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(in his best caddish voice). And a few oddments for myself. Nothing too expensive. You've a nice little wad on you, I suppose?
|
|
A snatch of Roman music. Fade music, fade up sounds of restaurant. |
|
| SIDNEY: |
(with deep gastronomic satisfaction). Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrh! (Sound of knife and fork being laid down on plate, a mildish burp.)
|
| TARTUFARI: |
You enjoy?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Exquisite, thankyou. You don't think I might have some more, do you? Just a ladleful. Or two.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(summoning waiter). Mi scusi, per favore. Il mio amico ne vorrebbe ancora.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Why don't you have something yourself? Go on! Just a nibble can't hurt! A bread roll! One of those green things! I feel dreadfully guilty.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
No. Thankyou.
|
| WAITER: |
(serving SIDNEY). Signore. If you please.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Ask him to give my compliments to the chef, will you? Best feed I've had in years. (To WAITER, extra loud as if to an idiot.) I say, best feed I've had in years.
|
| WAITER: |
Thankyou, signore.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(laughs). Nice fella that. Reminds me of a bookmaker I knew in Taunton. (Suddenly serious.) Look, Tommy. Could you do something for me?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Who is this Tommy?
|
| SIDNEY: |
You, dear. Can't keep calling you Father, can I? People would talk. (Struggling with embarrassment.) Look, you couldn't dig me up a few books about God and things, hmm?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
God … and things?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Um-hum.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Perhaps … a Bible?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Erm, yes, thankyou, a Bible, yes, a help, but it's not quite what I'm getting at. You see, I feel such a fool. I've nothing to talk to Greg about. He must think I'm a real plank. In England, you see, they have these irritating TV programmes, where they reunite brothers, sisters, aunts and things, people who haven't seen each other for a hundred years. One's an acrobat, the other's a shepherd. But what happens when the show's over and they're sitting alone, they've nothing to talk about but a few half-remembered days from their weeniehood, nothing in common, especially if one of them is Pope. I need something to gen me up on God, the angelic host, what it's all supposed to be about and why. You get my drift?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Yes, of course. You want some theological books.
|
| SIDNEY: |
That's the ticket!!! Nothing too brainy, mind you: 'Theothingummy for Beginners', that sort of thing.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Yes, yes. This evening I shall bring you what you need. A little book of my own also, on this subject.
|
| SIDNEY: |
You write books too!!!
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(bashful). It has been published in America. A very bad book. But it may be of some assistance.
|
| WAITER: |
Signore?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Ah, pudding!
|
|
Acoustic of the Sistine Chapel. Loud hum of tourists, clicking of cameras. |
|
| AMERICAN WOMAN: |
(in background). Wilbur! Come and look here, Wilbur!
|
| SIDNEY: |
(close). Is this where Mussolini's buried, then?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(with only the slightest irritation, whispers). This is the Sistine Chapel.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Ah.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(whispers). Built by Pope Sixtus IV at the end of the fifteenth century. It is 40 metres long, 21 metres wide, 13 metres high.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Jolly impressive.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
We have before us here: 'The Last Judgement' of Michelangelo.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(uninterested). I see. Yes.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
On the left we have the righteous rising up into Heaven, meanwhile on the right there are the damned souls descending into Hell. (Suddenly personal.) I never tire of gazing at it. Each figure, see, has gone to Hell in his own way. Look, please, him there, he must have done terrible things.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Doesn't look very happy, does he?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(meaningfully). No. Not happy.
|
| SIDNEY: |
No tailors in Heaven, then? Or Hell?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
Tailors?
|
| SIDNEY: |
None of them are weaing any clothes. Just jockstraps.
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(genuinely amused, perhaps over-amused). Yes. Yes. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! (Giggles loudly to himself.)
|
| SIDNEY: |
(with TARTUFARI still giggling, a touch worried). I'll not go to Hell, will I? Not now. Before, yes. But now that I'm the Pope's Brother: must be worth a few points, eh?
|
| TARTUFARI: |
(happily). I hope I shall see you in Heaven. I shall show you around, just as I have shown you Rome today.
|
|
They both laugh. Pause. |
|
| SIDNEY: |
(in confessional, thoughtful, blankly). We had a lovely time. Saw everything – except the Mona Lisa, missed that one. Bit spooky, old Tommy, of course, at the best of times. Every ten minutes or so his head would twitch back on his neck and it would look like his eyes were going to twang out on their strings. Wouldn't eat! Never went to the toilet, either. I was always going. But I'll get on with anyone, me. I rather liked him. Got back late after another feed, had a bit of supper with Greg. He told me what Pope had built what bit of Rome, then he remembered some old photos he had, tiny black-and-white things of Mam and Dad and us as kiddies and people we'd both forgotten. We both ended up just sitting back in our big gold chairs, looking at each other, tears in our eyes. Silly old buffers, what? Still wasn't tired. Sat up in my four-poster thumbing through some vile theology books Tommy had lent me. Tiny type and millions of pages. Sent me straight off. I distinctly remember I was having a dream about being at the seaside. I was with some of those people from the photographs, only in the dream I knew who they were. We were holding hands and jumping when the waves came. Then a voice called to me … |
| GOD: |
(close, a slow, soft voice coming from both sides at once, in good, precise English). Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(in confessional, ominously). I knew it wasn't a dream, because I came out of my dream to attend to it. I was in the four-poster. In the dark.
|
|
Pause.
|
|
| GOD: |
Is it you, Sidney?
|
| SIDNEY: |
(groggy). Me? Me? Yes, this is me. Who are you?
|
| GOD: |
This is Jesus, Sidney. |
| SIDNEY: |
(in a voice made small by awe). Jesus? You mean ... God?!
|
| GOD: |
If you prefer.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(a frightened moan).
|
| GOD: |
You are not drunken, Sidney. This really is God talking to you.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Honest?
|
| GOD: |
(laughs kindly). Honest.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Ooooh, er! You've made me wet the bed.
|
| GOD: |
I am sorry if I frightened you, Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
No, it's quite all right. My fault, I'm sure.
|
| GOD: |
I have been watching you, Sidney. |
| SIDNEY: |
(guiltily). Oh? Just since I came here … or always?
|
| GOD: |
Always, Sidney. |
| SIDNEY: |
(guilt-ridden). Oh, dear.
|
| GOD: |
You are one of my special people, Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Me? Surely not.
|
| GOD: |
This is why I have made your brother the Pope.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(a weak worried moan).
|
| GOD: |
Someday a new Bible shall be written, with a Chapter in it all about you, Sidney. I have important plans for you. You won't disappoint me, will you, Sidney?
|
| SIDNEY: |
No, sir.
|
| GOD: |
But first I must be sure of you, Sidney. There are some simple tests I wish you to do for me.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Anything, anything at all.
|
| GOD: |
(a touch of Jehovah). Until I inform you to cease you shall eat of nothing but chocolate.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Chocolate?
|
| GOD: |
Chocolate, Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Errrr … milk or plain?
|
| GOD: |
Both, either, Sidney. I don't mind.
|
| SIDNEY: |
All right, sir. You can rely on me.
|
| GOD: |
One more thing, Sidney. This is our secret. No one, not even your brother, must know that I have spoken to you. Do you promise me this?
|
| SIDNEY: |
It's going to be rather awkward …
|
| GOD: |
(strictly). Sidney!
|
| SIDNEY: |
I … I … I promise.
|
| GOD: |
(fading away). Goodnight, Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(calling after) Goodnight, Lord. (Excited, to himself.) I say! I say! Who'd have thought?
|
|
Acoustic of confessional.
|
|
| SIDNEY: |
(in confessional). It didn't seem too difficult at first. I went along to this luxurious sweetie shop, just outside the Vatican – best customer they ever had, me, over the next few weeks – and everything looked jolly tempting. I've always liked chcocolate. Ask anyone: I'll eat anything. My first mistake was buying those big boxes. I didn't realise until I was back in my room, puzzling out what-was-inside-what-chocolate from one of those little paper guides with impossible drawings on it: only chocolate, he'd said, and these had marzipan, fudge, strawberry centres. So I passed out the boxes to nuns I found in the corridors – very grateful they were too – and stuck to bars from then on. Thirty, forty a day to start with.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
(highly vexed). I have never heard such lies in a confessional!!!!
|
| SIDNEY: |
(protests). Eh?
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
Breathe through the grille, please!
|
| SIDNEY: |
(breathes). Harrrrrrrrrrrrrrh. Harrrrrrrrrrrrrrh.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
I thought so! You have been drinking!
|
| SIDNEY: |
(small, hurt). Only for courage.
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
It is the liquor making up this prepsoterous story!!!
|
| SIDNEY: |
No! No! Honest! On my Auntie Betty's grave!
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
All my life I have prayed to God to show himself, to remove me from this jungle of confusion, this treacle-pot of unbearable uncertainty. I have had no sign!!! Nothing!!! (Darkly.) I do not believe you.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Look, of course you don't believe me. Who would? But if I explain it all you'll come around, I know you will. Let me explain. Can I, please? Please?
|
|
Pause.
|
|
| CARDINAL NGOUPANDE: |
(sighs). Continue.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Thankyou so much. (Confused for a moment; has lost his place in the story.) Errrr … Ah! So, I did as I was told: I ate nothing but chocolate. But it's not the same in Italy as it is at home. It's always claggy from the heat. Dreadful stuff! I had to eat it, though, didn't I? I'd promised HIM. And those spreads in the Vatican! Those breakfasts! Oooooh – the hams, the strange delicious meaty cuttings, the queer tangy vegetables. Looking at them lying innocently in their silver dishes made me more and more unbearably hungry. All I could do was keep sneaking away from the table to scoff a few bars.
|
|
Acoustic of dining room. Hum of diners, clinks of eating. |
|
| GREG: |
Sidney?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Humph?
|
| GREG: |
Are you STILL not hungry?
|
| SIDNEY: |
(brightly). No, thankyou.
|
| GREG: |
Dearie me! You've become as bad as Father Tartufari. (Nervously.) Perhaps Italian food does not agree with you?
|
| SIDNEY: |
No, no. It's wonderful stuff. Not peckish, that's all.
|
| GREG: |
I only say so because I've been feeling somewhat queasy myself just lately.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Sorry to hear it, brother-of-mine. I'll go for a long walk this afternoon – that should make you feel better.
|
| GREG: |
(touched). Thankyou, |
| SIDNEY: |
(A sudden realisation.) Sidney?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Yes, Greg. |
| GREG: |
You haven't been eating chocolate, have you?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Errrrrrrrr – no.
|
| GREG: |
What's that around your mouth, then? And on your shirt?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Ah! … You've caught me!
|
| GREG: |
(deeply worried). Sidney?
|
| SIDNEY: |
(struggling). Yes, you see, old darling, I looked at myself in the mirror last week and what did I see – a hippopotamus! I'm on a diet, a chocolate-only diet. It's the latest thing in England.
|
| GREG: |
No!
|
| SIDNEY: |
I've lost two stones already. Here … (Sound of silver paper tearing and snap of chocolate, his mouth full.) Go on, try some! Food of the Gods!
|
| GREG: |
(weakly). Thankyou. No.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Go on.
|
| GREG: |
I suddenly feel rather unwell.
|
| SIDNEY: |
Oooo!
|
|
Acoustic of SIDNEY's bedroom. From the silence a sound like a needle playing at the beginning of a record. |
|
| GOD: |
Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(startled awake, yells). Arrrrrrhhh!
|
| GOD: |
Sidney. It's Jesus, Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
(yawns). Orrrrrrrr … Yes, hullo. I've been praying for you for days. I expect you were busy. This chocolate lark, it's just not on any more, you know. I'm a hundrdweight fatter than I was and it's made Greg ill.
|
| GOD: |
You have passed the test, Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
It's over, then?
|
| GOD: |
It is over. I am very pleased with you, Sidney. |
| SIDNEY: |
Thankyou, Lord. A favour, pretty-please?
|
| GOD: |
Depends what it is, Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
I've always wanted to know what you look like. You couldn't appear for me, could you?
|
| GOD: |
(strictly). No, Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
You couldn't perhaps say who you look like? George Sanders? Scobie Breasley? One of the Beatles?
|
| GOD: |
(very strictly indeed). Sidney!!!
|
| SIDNEY: |
(scared). Sorry. Sorry.
|
| GOD: |
I have another test for you, Sidney. |
| SIDNEY: |
Oh, no.
|
| GOD: |
You will walk the length of the street known as the Corso. Do you know it?
|
| SIDNEY: |
Yes. Yes. (Sighs with relief.) That's not a hard one.
|
| GOD: |
You are to do it naked, Sidney. |
| SIDNEY: |
Eh? But it's over a mile that street and it's always jam-packed!
|
| GOD: |
(a touch of Jehovah). You heard me, Sidney.
|
| SIDNEY: |
But … but … I couldn't wear swimming-trunks perhaps? I'm horrible when I'm stripped.
|
| GOD: |
No, Sidney. |
| SIDNEY: |
But it's ridiculous! Why would you ask me to do such a stupid thing?
|
| GOD: |
I move in a mysterious way, my wonders to perform, Sidney.
|