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You know what you done, don’t you?
ZACHARIAH. Me?
MORRIS. Who was it, then? Me?
ZACHARIAH. But what?
MORRIS. Who wanted woman?
ZACHARIAH. Oh. Me.
MORRIS. Right. Who’s been carrying on about Minnie, and Connie, and good times? Not me.
ZACHARIAH. Morrie! What are you talking about?
MORRIS. That photograph.
ZACHARIAH. I’ve seen it.
MORRIS. Have another look.
ZACHARIAH [he does]. It’s Ethel.
MORRIS. Miss Ethel Lange to you!
ZACHARIAH. Okay, I looked. Now what!
MORRIS. Can’t you see, man! Ethel Lange is a white woman!
[Pause. They look at each other in silence.]
ZACHARIAH [slowly]. You mean that this Ethel . . . here . . .
MORRIS. Is a white woman!
ZACHARIAH. How do you know?
MORRIS. Oh for God’s sake, Zach—use your eyes. Anyway, that paper you bought was white. There’s no news about our sort.
ZACHARIAH [studying the photo]. Hey—you’re right, Morrie. [Delighted.] You’re damn well right. And this white woman has written to me, a hot-not, a swartgat. This white woman thinks I’m a white man. That I like!
[Zachariah bursts into laughter. Morris jumps forward and snatches the photograph out of his hand.]
Hey! What are you going to do?
MORRIS. What do you think?
ZACHARIAH. Read it.
MORRIS. I’m going to burn it.
ZACHARIAH. No!
MORRIS. Yes.
ZACHARIAH [jumps up and comes to grips with Morris who, after a short struggle, is thrown violently to the floor. Zachariah picks up the letter and the photograph. He stands looking down at Morris for a few seconds, amazed at what he has done]. No, Morrie. You’re not going to burn it, Morrie.
MORRIS [vehemently]. Yes, burn the bloody thing! Destroy it!
ZACHARIAH. But it’s my pen-pal, Morris. Now, isn’t it? Doesn’t it say here: ‘Mr Zachariah Pietersen’? Well, that’s me . . . isn’t it? It is. My letter. You just don’t go and burn another man’s letter, Morrie.
MORRIS. But it’s an error, Zach! Can’t you see? The whole thing is an error.
ZACHARIAH. Read the letter, man. I don’t know.
[The alarm-clock rings.]
MORRIS. Supper time.
ZACHARIAH. Later.
MORRIS. Listen—
ZACHARIAH. Letter first.
MORRIS. Then can I burn it?
ZACHARIAH. Read the letter first, man. Let’s hear it, what it says. [Handing Morris the letter.] No funny business, hey!
MORRIS [reading]. ‘Dear Zach, many thanks for your letter You asked me for a snap, so I’m sending you it. Do you like it? That’s my brother’s foot sticking in the picture behind the bench on the side—’
ZACHARIAH. Hey! She’s right! Here it is.
MORRIS. ‘Cornelius is a . . . policeman.’ [Pause.] ‘He’s got a motor-bike, and I been with him to the dam, on the back. My best friend is Lucy van Tonder. Both of us hates Oudtshoorn, man. How is Port Elizabeth? There’s only two movies here, so we don’t know what to do on the other nights. That’s why I want pen-pals. How about a picture of you? You got a car? All for now. Cheerio. Ethel. P.S. Please write soon.’
(Morris folds the letter.]
ZACHARIAH [gratefully]. Oh—thank you, Morrie.
[Holds out his hand for the letter.]
MORRIS. Can I burn it now, Zach?
ZACHARIAH. Burn it! It’s an all right letter, man. A little bit of this and a little bit of that.
MORRIS. Like her brother being a policeman.
ZACHARIAH [ignoring the last remark]. Hey—supper ready yet, man? Let’s talk after supper, man. I’m hungry. What you got for supper, Morrie?
MORRIS. Boiled eggs and chips.
ZACHARIAH. Hey, that’s wonderful, Morrie. Hey! We never had that before.
MORRIS [sulking]. It was meant to be a surprise.
ZACHARIAH. But that’s wonderful.
[Zachariah is full of vigour and life.]
No, I mean it, Morrie. Cross my heart, and hope to die. Boiled eggs and chips! Boiled eggs and chips . . . Boiled eggs and chips . . . I never even knew you could do it.
[Zachariah takes his place at the table, and stands the photograph in front of him. When Morris brings the food to the table, he sees it and hesitates.]
What’s it got here on the back, Morrie?
MORRIS [examines the back of the photograph]. ‘To Zach, with love, from Ethel.’
[Another burst of laughter from Zachariah. Morris leaves the table abruptly.]
ZACHARIAH [calmly continuing with his meal]. Hey—what’s the matter?
MORRIS. I’m not hungry tonight.
ZACHARIAH. Oh, you mean, you don’t like to hear me laugh?
MORRIS. It’s not that . . . Zach.
ZACHARIAH. But it is. It’s funny, man. She and me. Of course, it wouldn’t be so funny if it was you who was pally with her.
MORRIS. What does that mean?
ZACHARIAH. Don’t you know?
MORRIS. No. So will you please tell me?
ZACHARIAH. You never seen yourself, Morrie?
MORRIS [trembling with emotion]. I’m warning you Zach. Just be careful of where your words are taking you!
ZACHARIAH. Okay. Okay. Okay—
[Eats in silence.]
You was telling me about Oudtshoorn the other day. How far you say it was?
MORRIS [viciously]. Hundreds of miles.
ZACHARIAH. So far, hey?
MORRIS. Don’t fool yourself, Zach. It’s not far enough for safety’s sake. Cornelius has got a motorbike, remember.
ZACHARIAH. Ja. But we don’t write to him, man.
MORRIS. Listen. Zach, if you think for one moment that I’m going to write . . .
ZACHARIAH. Think? Think? Who says? I been eating my supper. It was good, Morrie. Boiled eggs and chips, tasty.
MORRIS. Don’t try to change the subject-matter!
ZACHARIAH. Who? Me?
MORRIS. Ja—you.
ZACHARIAH. I like that. You mean, what’s the matter with you? You was the one that spoke about pen-pals first. Not me.
MORRIS. So here it comes at last. I’ve been waiting for it. I’m to blame, am I? All right. I’ll take the blame. I always did, didn’t I? But this is where it