HALLY: I don't give a [crap] about my homework, so, for Christ's sake, just shut up about it. [Slamming books viciously into his school case.] Hurry up now and finish your work. I want to lock up and get out of here. [Pause. And then go where? Home-sweet [ . . . ] home. [Geez], I hate that word. [Hally goes to the counter to put the brandy bottle and comics in his school case. After a moment's hesitation, he smashes the bottle of brandy. He abandons all further attempts to hide his feelings. Sam and Willie work away as unobtrusively as possible.] Do you want to know what is really wrong with your lovely little dream, Sam/ It's not just that we are all bad dancers. That does happen to be perfectly true, but there's more to it than just that. You left out the cripples.

He can't hear us from there. But for [goodness] sake, Mom, what happened? I told you to be firm with him . . . then you and the nurses should have held him down, taken his crutches away . . . I know only too well he's my father! . . . I'm not being disrespectful, but I'm sick and tired of emptying stinking chamberpots full of phlegm and [urine] . . . Yes, I do! When you're not there, he asks me to do it . . . If you really want to know the truth, that's why I've got no appetite for my food . . . Yes! There's a lot of things you don't know about. For your information, I still haven't got that science textbook I need. And you know why? He borrowed the money you gave me for it. . . . Because I didn't want to start another fight between you two . . . He says that every time . . . all right, Mom! [Viciously.] Then just remember to start hiding your bag away again, because he'll be at your purse before long for money for booze. And when he's well enough to come down here, you better keep an eye on the till as well, because that is also going to develop a leak . . . then don't complain to me when he starts his old tricks . . . Yes, you do. I get it from you on one side and from him on the other, and it makes life hell for me. I'm not going to be the peacemaker anymore. I'm warning you now; when the two of you start fighting again, I'm leaving home . . . Mom, if you start crying, I'm going to put down the receiver . . . Okay . . . [Lowering his voice to a vicious whisper.] Okay, Mom. I heard you. [Desperate.] No . . . Because I don't want to. I'll see him when I get home! Mom! . . . [Pause. When he speaks again, his tone changes completely. It is not simply pretense. We sense a genuine emotional conflict.] Welcome home, chum! . . . What's that? . . . Don't be silly, Dad.

SAM: There's no collisions out there, Hally. Nobody trips or stumbles or bumps into anybody else. That's what that moment is all about. To be one of those finalists on that dance floor is like . . . like being in a dream about a world in which accidents don't happen.

HALLY: Yes, gentlemen, that is precisely what I am considering doing. Old Doc Bromely - he's my English teacher - is going to argue with me, of course. He doesn't like natives. But I'll point out to him that in strict anthropological terms the culture of a primitive black society includes its dancing and singing. To put my thesis in a nutshell: The war-dance has been replaced by the waltz. But it still amounts to the same thing: the releases of primitive emotions through movement. Shall we give it a go?

SAM: No, it isn't your imagination hasn't helped you at all. There's a lot more to it than that. We're getting ready for the championships, Hally, not just another dance. There's going to be a lot of people, all right, and they're going to have a good time, but they'll only be spectators, sitting around and watching. It's just the competitors our there on the dance floor. Party decorations and fancy lights all around the hall! The ladies in beautiful evening dresses!

HALLY: I didn't say it was easy. I said it was simple - like in simple-minded, meaning mentally retarded. You can't exactly say it challenges the intellect.

HALLY: Get back to your work. You too, Sam. [His ruler.] Do you want another one, Willie? Sam and Willie return to their work. Hally uses the opportunity to escape from his unsuccessful attempt at homework. He struts around like a little despot, ruler in hand, giving vent to his anger and frustration.

HALLY: And also plain bloody boring. You know what he wants, don't you? One of their useless old ceremonies. The commemoration of the 1820 Settlers [a resettlement scheme, in which British settlers were given land and paid to resettle in Cape Province] or, if it's going to be culture, Carols by Candlelight every Christmas.

HALLY: [Sharply.] No! How the hell can he be better when last night he was groaning with pain? This is not an age of miracles!

HALLY: Little white boy in short trousers and a black man old enough to be his father flying a kite. It's not every day you see that.

HALLY: The old Jubilee Boarding House. Sixteen rooms with board and lodging, rent in advance and one week's notice. I haven't thought about it for donkey's years . . . and I don't think that's an accident. [Boy], was I glad when we sold it and moved out. Those years are not remembered as the happiest ones of an unhappy childhood.

HALLY: I don't like Mohammed. I never have. I was merely being hypothetical. As far as I'm concerned, the Koran is as bad as the Bible. No. Religion is out! I'm not going to waste my time again arguing with you about the existence of God. You know perfectly well I'm an atheist . . . and I've got homework to do.

HALLY: Don't confuse historical significance with greatness. But maybe I'm being a bit prejudiced. Have a look in there and you'll see he's two chapters long. And hell! . . . has he only got dates, Sam, all of which you've got to remember! This campaign and that campaign, and then, because of all the fighting, the next thing is we get peace Treaties all over the place. And what's the end of the story? Battle of Waterloo, which he loses. Wasn't worth it. No, I don't know about him as a man of magnitude.

SAM: " . . . many reforms. Napoleon regarded all people as equal before the law and wanted them to have equal opportunities for advancement. All ves - ti - ges of the feu - dal system with its oppression of the poor were abolished." Vestiges, feudal system and abolished. I'm all right on oppression.

HALLY: So-so. I'll scrape through. In the fifties if I'm lucky.

HALLY: Piece of cake. Eighty percent without even trying.

HALLY: Failing a maths exam isn't the end of the world, Sam. How many times have I told you that examination results don't measure intelligence?

HALLY: Good question. And I hate to say it, but the answer is: I don't know. Maybe he hasn't even beenborn yet. Or is still only a babe in arms at his mother's breast. [Gosh], what a thought.

SAM: they make you lie down on a bench. One policeman pulls down your trousers and holds your ankles, another one pulls your shirt over your head and holds your arms . . .

HALLY: I know how to settle it. [Behind the counter to the telephone. Talking as he dials.] Let's give her ten minutes to get to the hospital, ten minutes to load him up, another ten, at the most, to get home and another ten to get him inside. Forty minutes. They should have been home for at least half an hour already. [Pause - he waits with the receiver to his ear.] No reply, chaps. And you know why? Because she's at his bedside in hospital helping him pull through a bad turn. You definitely heard wrong.

HALLY: [Interrupting him.] No, Sam. They can't be discharging him. She would have said so if they were. In any case, we say him last night and he wasn't in good shape at all. Staff nurse even said there was talk about taking more X-rays. And now suddenly today he's better? If anything, it sounds more like a bad turn to me . . . which I sincerely hope it isn't. Hang on . . . how long ago did you say she left?

HALLY: Act your bloody age! [Hurls the rag back at Willie.] Cut out the nonsense now and get on with your work. And you too, Sam. Stop fooling around.

WILLIE: There is nothing wrong with my legs. Sam is just making jokes.

HALLY: [With conviction.] No! It can't be. They said he needed at least another three weeks of treatment. Sam's definitely made a mistake. [Rummages through his school case, finds a book and settles down at the table to read.] So, Willie!

WILLIE: I only got bus fare to go home. [He returns disconsolately to his work.] Love story and happy ending! [. . . .] Three nights now she doesn't come practice. I wind up gramophone, I get record ready and I sit and wait. What happens? Nothing. Ten o'clock I start dancing with my pillow. You try and practice romance by yourself, Boet Sam. Struesgod, she doesn't come tonight I take back my dress and ballroom shoes and I find me new partner. Size twenty-six. Shoes size seven. And now she's making trouble for me with the baby again. Reports me to Child Wellfed, that I'm not giving her money. She lies! Every week I am giving her money for milk. And how do I know is my baby? Only his hair looks like me. She's [messing]around all the time I turn my back. Hilda Samuels is a [bad woman]! [Pause.] Hey, Sam!

WILLIE: How can I enjoy myself? Not straight, too stiff and now it's also glide, give it more style, make it smooth . . . Haai! Is hard to remember all those things, Boet Sam.

He gets up and moves the bucket. Stands thinking for a moment, then, raising his arms to hold an imaginary partner, he launches into an intricate ballroom dance step. Although a mildly comic figures, he reveals a reasonable degree if accomplishment.

She was scandalizin' my name, She took my money She called me honey But she was scandalizin' my name, Called it love but was playin' a game . . . '