First of all, Judy's close colleague from The Hague and Amsterdam, Alice, is arriving early at Heathrow. We plan to meet her about 10 at the statue of Eros in Piccadilly Circus and bring her to the apartment, let her drop off her bags and relax with her until we have to go to the matinee at the Cottesloe Theatre at the National on Southbank.
She texted (we like texting) us from Heathrow so we knew exactly when she hit the ground. We showered and waited for her to text that she was on the tube from the airport. We had guessed she would arrive at Piccadilly at about 10, so we could go slowly. Incredibly, at 9:30, the text came in: "I'm at Eros." Wonderful. We threw on all our "winter" clothing and rushed downstairs (the dangerous, curvy, steep steps in the building). Out the door, say good morning to the lady from the Strip Joint next door ("It's raw today, dahlin"). Down Rupert Street, right on Shaftsbury and there was Eros. But where was Alice? A zillion tourists, all making photos. Skimply clad girls advertising night clubs. No Alice. Italians shouting, British dressed like it was summer, teens from around the world, school groups and me and Judy. No Alice. We texted: "Where are you?" Answer: "In front of the statue." We looked. No Alice. There are two statues on Piccadilly: Eros in the center and another one at the head of Haymarket.
This is the Four Bronze Horses of Helios statue created by sculpture Rudy Weller in 1992. "Maybe she's there," Judy said. We turned to look and there, right in front of us, was Alice, all smiles and dressed in typical Dutch gear, ready for a blast of Artic air. Someone dressed sensibly at last. Big hugs and kisses all around.
We walked back to Rupert Street. Alice and Judy talked on and on and I pulled her overnight bag. At the apartment, we warned her about the steps, but she said, "Haven't you ever been in Amsterdam? These are nothing." But I still carried her bag upstairs. We spent an hour or so just relaxing, after all, she had been up since 4 in the morning and was tired. And then, it was noon and time to eat.
Off toBalans cafe on Old Compton Street for, guess what again: eggs benedict and a bloody mary for me and an English breakfast for Judy and I think Alice had an English muffin. At about 1:30, we walked Alice back to Piccadilly so she could catch the tube to her hotel in the Kensington neighborhood. We invited her to join us for dinner that night and, happily, she agreed.
On our minds was the early morning trip to Heathrow by Underground on Sunday. It was Easter weekend and the schedule was changing for the holiday. It "looked" like the trains would leave early, but it was not clear. We asked the man in the Pakistani market if there was a good mini-cab company on the street and he said, "For sure. go to the one two doors down the street. They are very good." So, we went. There was a door on the street and a long corridor. No person at all. The only furniture was a red kitchen chair at the end of the corridor and a red light over the chair and stairs next to the chair going down to somewhere. It looked exactly like a whorehouse, not a cab stand. And, there was no one around at all. We shouted hello, are you there? No one answered. I said, "Judy, this can't be right. I don't like the looks of it." But, she went down the corridor half way and shouted, "HELLO." And, we suddenly heard a voice, "I'm coming." A man came up the stairs and we told him that we wanted a cab to go to Heathrow Terminal 4 tomorrow morning leaving Rupert Street at 7:15 early. "Of course," he said, "It will cost EngPnd 40." (the usual fare for a taxi is EngPnd 65, so this was cheap.) "Is it a good car?" "Yes, you will have a private car and driver as you want." We shook hands and told him to thank the man in the market for recommending him. "My father started this business 35 years ago and we are known for our good, prompt service. No problems." That was that, and we were relieved to have made the decision to take the minicab, and not worry about having to move the suitcases up and down the escalators in the Underground.
Now it was an easy (cold and windy) walk over the Hungerford Bridge to Southbank. I got the tickets and we had to exit the main building to get to the Cottesloe theater. It was around the corner. We followed the signs: "Around this corner to the Cottesloe" and "Just around the next corner to the Cottesloe" and "15 feet to the Cottesloe" and "COTTESLOE" entrance. First things first, "Where's the toilets, please?" The doors to the theater had not been opened yet, it was only 2:00 and the show started at 2:30. We had a chance to stand quietly and wait and enjoy the crowd. The play was about Trinidad after World War II and the people in the lobby were definitely from the Caribbean. It was like being in The Netherlands and seeing a play about Surinam or Curacao. Some of the people looked to be the right age to have come to London after World War II and others were a younger generation.
The play was purchased for production, but it was immediately decided that there were no black actors in Britain that were capable of performing the difficult main parts. So, actors from America were hired. They were given no support from the management of the theater company and the play was considered too outrageous to be performed in London. It wasn't until December 5, 1958 that it came to the West End theater, The Royal Court. The American actors were still in the cast, by the way.
What is the story? Simple and complex all at once. Ephraim represents the unmarried Trinidadian who works for the local bus company. His neighbors are the Adams family, Charlie (father, no job, no future), Esther (teen, sweet and an innocent), and Sophia (mother and very strong person, hard-working and motivated). Also, upstairs is a prostitute, Mavis, always on the prowl for money. The person living in the second apartment is Rosa, a lovely 20 year old lady, who works in the store of the owner of the apartments. That's all there is. Five main characters. Simple.
Except: Rosa is pregnant by Ephraim. Charlie has stolen money from the shop of the owner. Rosa is hunted by the owner for sex. Suddenly, all is dark and complicated. The story unfolds. Ephraim is leaving Trinidad for London and a new beginning. Rosa and Sophia beg and demand that he either stays to take care of her and the baby, or that he takes her with him.
Ephraim is packing his suitcase when Rosa tells him she is pregnant. She moves to embrace him and this is the scene.
EPHRAIM: DON'T TOUCH ME! So don't think a little trap like you could ketch me-just by sayin' yer going to have a baby fer mey. When that boat whistle blow! - It mean I leaving all this behind! Listen to me, Rosa! I got a life to live! Awright! So I stay here, to what end? That is not for me! Outside somewhere in the world I feel for certain sure it got more for me than this! Don't bring that damn baby nonsense to me. I'm a big man. Not no damn little boy. Ready to get myself tie-up the minute some woman tell me she makin' child. So if that is your plan to ketch me - this is one big boy that sorry. That plan ent go work at all.
ROSA: Yer is a damn worthless nigger! Do you think I want a man like you to marry me or to father my child? You go! You go wherever the hell you want to go! And when the time come so for yer to dead - I hope yer dead like the bastard you are.
EPHRAIM: THANKS! An' if that is all yer have to say fer goodbyes! Goodbye! (He throws her out of the door and continues throwing clothes into the suitcase.)
At the intermission, Judy was crying. AND the girl sitting next to her was crying. Judy said, "Go ahead and cry. It's alright." And she began talking with the girl, who was American it turned out and was studying theater in London for a semester. She was African-American and was very moved by the play. We talked about learning to act and she told us about her studies in Georgia. Her reaction to the strength of the script and the power of the acting was also seen in the Caribbean audience. I noticed one man well into his sixties who was stony faced all through the play until the end when Ephraim stormed off the stage. The penultimate scene moved him and I could see him start clenching his fists and leaning forward tensely. The lady next to him put her hand on his shoulder to calm him down.
This is the scene that moved him, between Ephraim and Sophia, the "mother".
SOPHIA: When you first asked Rosa! And she didn't know what to do! Was to me she come! As if she was my own daughter! I had to tell her HOW! So that you could be the first!
EPHRAIM: SHE LIKED IT, LADY!
SOPHIA: (slapping him across the face): MORE THAN YOU? And now yer takin' up yerself to God knows where! - to leave her alone in this stinkin' yard. Yer know WHAT will come of her?
EPHRAIM: I don't give a damn! No blasted woman go TRAP me here!
SOPHIA: Is no trap! Is true!
EPHRAIM: (grabbing his suitcase to go) So what? The baby born! It live! It dead! It make no difference to me! (he rushes off)
The play ends with Ephraim gone, Rosa pregnant with his child and alone AND suddenly a voice is heard from her apartment, calling her to come inside. And the voice is that of the Landlord who has been chasing her from the beginning of the play. Sophia collapses and cries and the curtain drops.
What a play to see at the end of such a wonderful week. One little dip in ALL NEW PEOPLE, but for the rest, an outstanding and moving week of excellent theater.
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