Twist of Gold Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Michael Morpurgo
have to keep my eye on you two.
ANNIE: But how do we know you are our friend?
BLACK MAN: Am I bein’ un friendly? Hope that fiddle of yours ain’t broke, boy.
SEAN opens the fiddle case, rattles the fiddle.
SEAN: Nothing broken.
BLACK MAN: You sure, boy? It rattles some, somethin’ loose inside maybe?
SEAN: (Slamming shut the lid of the case.) No.
BLACK MAN: That there is a fine fiddle.
ANNIE: I’m Annie, and my brother’s called Sean. We are O’Briens.
BLACK MAN/LIL’ LUKE: An’ I’m Lil’ Luke, Miss Annie. My privilege, my privilege.
He raises his hat.
ANNIE: Why are you called Little Luke? You’re not little, you’re big. We had a brother called Little Joe. But he was little –
the littlest.
LIL’ LUKE: I was lil’ when I was born, an’ that’s when my mammy first knew me, so I guess that’s why she called me
Lil’ Luke, an’ it’s kinda stuck.
ANNIE: You speak very good English.
LIL’ LUKE: I been speakin’ it all my life, lil’ missy.
ANNIE: Then can you tell us if you’ve seen our father, Mister Patrick O’Brien?
LIL’ LUKE: When, missy?
ANNIE: Oh, about a year ago.
LIL’ LUKE: Well if he were here that long ago, he sure ain’t likely to be here now. If he got any sense he’ll be long gone.
SEAN: Yes. Out West.
LIL’ LUKE: Well that’s where they all head for in the end.
ANNIE: How did you get so black, Mister?
SEAN: Annie!
LIL’ LUKE: (Chuckling.) Well, I puts it on every morning before sun-up and I takes it off every night. You rub me hard enough and
it’ll come off just like the brown off a hen’s egg. You wanna try?
He offers her his face – and she rubs it, but of course nothing happens.
(Mock shock-horror.) Well, bless my soul, looks as if I put it on once too often! Now I’m stuck with it for life.
He smiles. ANNIE realises he’s been teasing her.
ANNIE: Are you telling me you were born like that?
LIL’ LUKE: That’s what my Mammy said. You mean you ain’t never seen no black man before?
ANNIE: In Ireland everyone’s white. Well, dirty white.
LIL’ LUKE: And there was me thinking that you were all little green folk in Ireland!
ANNIE: Really?
LIL’ LUKE raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘what do you think?’
LIL’ LUKE: We got all sorts here in ’Merica, folks from all over: England, Ireland, Dutchland, Swedenland. Hundreds of ’em
comin’ in every day. ’Cos this is a mighty big country an’ there’s room for everyone who’s a mind to come. (To SEAN .) You play that fiddle of yours?
SEAN: (Clutching the fiddle case tightly to him.) A bit.
LIL’ LUKE: Yes you keep a tight hold of it. But if you play, you may be able to earn yourself a crust. So long. I must get back to my ladies. Take
care now, d’you hear?
He leaves. Snow falls. The chill wind whines.
ANNIE: What did he mean, his ‘ladies’? What did he mean, ‘earn ourselves a crust’?
SEAN: I guess he means that we could play for money. I could play. You could dance.
ANNIE: (Affronted.) I won’t beg!
SEAN: ’Tis not exactly begging. And we’ll need the money to get us to Father.
ANNIE: You think he’s still…
She means ‘alive’; SEAN knows what she means.
SEAN: Yes, Annie. And we must deliver him the torc. It’s our talisman. Our family charm. And that’s why we’re going to stand on this
street corner and I’m going to play the fiddle and they’ll throw money into the fiddle case as they pass by, enough to keep us in food, and enough to pay the rent on some little
room somewhere, enough to keep us going until we can find out where Father’s gone. Now that’s not begging, is it Annie? That’s working for a living.
ANNIE: S’pose.
SEAN: And you’re going to dance, Annie. You’re going to dance as you’ve never danced before.
SEAN plays; ANNIE dances; PASSERSBY throw money into the fiddle case. The
snow snows. The freezing wind blows. They play
ANNIE: But how do we know you are our friend?
BLACK MAN: Am I bein’ un friendly? Hope that fiddle of yours ain’t broke, boy.
SEAN opens the fiddle case, rattles the fiddle.
SEAN: Nothing broken.
BLACK MAN: You sure, boy? It rattles some, somethin’ loose inside maybe?
SEAN: (Slamming shut the lid of the case.) No.
BLACK MAN: That there is a fine fiddle.
ANNIE: I’m Annie, and my brother’s called Sean. We are O’Briens.
BLACK MAN/LIL’ LUKE: An’ I’m Lil’ Luke, Miss Annie. My privilege, my privilege.
He raises his hat.
ANNIE: Why are you called Little Luke? You’re not little, you’re big. We had a brother called Little Joe. But he was little –
the littlest.
LIL’ LUKE: I was lil’ when I was born, an’ that’s when my mammy first knew me, so I guess that’s why she called me
Lil’ Luke, an’ it’s kinda stuck.
ANNIE: You speak very good English.
LIL’ LUKE: I been speakin’ it all my life, lil’ missy.
ANNIE: Then can you tell us if you’ve seen our father, Mister Patrick O’Brien?
LIL’ LUKE: When, missy?
ANNIE: Oh, about a year ago.
LIL’ LUKE: Well if he were here that long ago, he sure ain’t likely to be here now. If he got any sense he’ll be long gone.
SEAN: Yes. Out West.
LIL’ LUKE: Well that’s where they all head for in the end.
ANNIE: How did you get so black, Mister?
SEAN: Annie!
LIL’ LUKE: (Chuckling.) Well, I puts it on every morning before sun-up and I takes it off every night. You rub me hard enough and
it’ll come off just like the brown off a hen’s egg. You wanna try?
He offers her his face – and she rubs it, but of course nothing happens.
(Mock shock-horror.) Well, bless my soul, looks as if I put it on once too often! Now I’m stuck with it for life.
He smiles. ANNIE realises he’s been teasing her.
ANNIE: Are you telling me you were born like that?
LIL’ LUKE: That’s what my Mammy said. You mean you ain’t never seen no black man before?
ANNIE: In Ireland everyone’s white. Well, dirty white.
LIL’ LUKE: And there was me thinking that you were all little green folk in Ireland!
ANNIE: Really?
LIL’ LUKE raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘what do you think?’
LIL’ LUKE: We got all sorts here in ’Merica, folks from all over: England, Ireland, Dutchland, Swedenland. Hundreds of ’em
comin’ in every day. ’Cos this is a mighty big country an’ there’s room for everyone who’s a mind to come. (To SEAN .) You play that fiddle of yours?
SEAN: (Clutching the fiddle case tightly to him.) A bit.
LIL’ LUKE: Yes you keep a tight hold of it. But if you play, you may be able to earn yourself a crust. So long. I must get back to my ladies. Take
care now, d’you hear?
He leaves. Snow falls. The chill wind whines.
ANNIE: What did he mean, his ‘ladies’? What did he mean, ‘earn ourselves a crust’?
SEAN: I guess he means that we could play for money. I could play. You could dance.
ANNIE: (Affronted.) I won’t beg!
SEAN: ’Tis not exactly begging. And we’ll need the money to get us to Father.
ANNIE: You think he’s still…
She means ‘alive’; SEAN knows what she means.
SEAN: Yes, Annie. And we must deliver him the torc. It’s our talisman. Our family charm. And that’s why we’re going to stand on this
street corner and I’m going to play the fiddle and they’ll throw money into the fiddle case as they pass by, enough to keep us in food, and enough to pay the rent on some little
room somewhere, enough to keep us going until we can find out where Father’s gone. Now that’s not begging, is it Annie? That’s working for a living.
ANNIE: S’pose.
SEAN: And you’re going to dance, Annie. You’re going to dance as you’ve never danced before.
SEAN plays; ANNIE dances; PASSERSBY throw money into the fiddle case. The
snow snows. The freezing wind blows. They play