The Berry Man

Patricia Cornelius

• Publisher: Currency Press
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781925210248
• Topic: Letteratura
• Subtopic: Teatro

The Berry Man is a searing indictment of the consequences of war, with the humour and fragile, flawed characters that are a trademark of Cornelius' writing. Eric, a Vietnam vet, has inherited a farm but struggles to grow a single crop. Marjorie, his fiercely independent but troubled neighbour, is unaware of the wartime horrors that plague him. And there's Joey, a mysterious young man whose appearance prevents Eric from moving on. Then Fish arrives. A fellow vet holding onto the idea of mateship, he forces Eric to confront his memories and Marjorie to have the courage to follow her dreams before it's too late.

SCENE ONE

ERIC stands motionless in the middle of a newly hoed paddock. A hessian bag full of potatoes sits beside him. A mattock leans against the bag. He holds a potato the size of a small skull in his hand. He stares at it for a long time.

MARJORIE watches ERIC from some distance.

MARJORIE: Look at you with your flannelette shirt and your big heavy boots, with your Hard Yakkas. Look at you with your mattock and your bag of spuds, your soil all tilled waiting to be sewn. If I held your hand I’d feel blisters along the pads of your palm. I bet they’re hurting. And the splinters; the handle of your mattock needs sanding, anyone could tell you that. And what about your back? I can hear it groaning from here; it’s saying, save me, I’m about to break, about to snap. It’s not used to bending and lugging, it’s too old for that. What are you doing to yourself? You’re no farmer; you’re no man of the land, no leather-skinned man. There’s nothing you’re going to grow. You’re a holidaying man, doing something different for a while, experimenting with your lifestyle. You don’t fool me, in a year you’ll be gone. I’ll drive down the road and there will be a ‘For Sale’ sign. [She takes a step towards ERIC.] Hello, Eric. Eric! [She moves closer.] What are you doing?

ERIC barely moves.

ERIC: I don’t like being snuck up on.

MARJORIE: I didn’t exactly sneak up on you, Eric. I called.

ERIC: I didn’t hear you.

MARJORIE: Must have been deep in thought. [Pause.] What are you doing, Eric?

ERIC: Planting spuds.

MARJORIE: Have you been here all day?

ERIC: What can I do for you, Marjorie?

MARJORIE: You haven’t planted one.

ERIC: How can I help you?

MARJORIE: Not one potato.

ERIC: You my minder?

MARJORIE: Have you been standing here with that spud in your hand all day?

ERIC: You here to oversee me?

MARJORIE: They’ve got to go in the ground, you know.

ERIC: Piss off, Marjorie.

MARJORIE: Piss off?

ERIC: Yeah, piss off, that’s what I said.

MARJORIE: That’s real neighbourly, Eric.

ERIC: I don’t need you coming over here to tell me how to farm my land.

MARJORIE: Your uncle never intended for you to work the farm.

ERIC: How would you know what he intended?

MARJORIE: Because he bloody well told me. He thought you’d sell.

ERIC: Is there something you want?

MARJORIE: Yes, there is.

ERIC: What do you want?

MARJORIE: I want you to get your bloody heifer out of my back paddock, that’s what I want.

ERIC smiles.

It’s not funny, Eric. She’s bent the pickets again.

ERIC:...