‘Dad, can I have a word?’
‘What is it, son?’
‘Any chance you could let me have my inheritance, right now, please?’
‘May I help you, sir?’
‘Yes, can you fetch me a large cocktail and a slap-up fed for my pals?’
‘Would that be the standard table d’hôte, the full de luxe or our chef’s special, with extra truffles, caviar and wafer-thin mint?’
‘What do you think?’
‘And to drink?’
‘What have you got?’
‘Is there any money left, darling?’
(Muttering to self) ‘Where did that last gold coin go? How could we have spent it all so quickly?’
‘Have you seen the way the famine is spreading?’
‘Can I please come and look after your pigs?’
‘Are you sure you really want to?’
‘Would I be here, asking, if I weren’t desperate?’
(To self) ‘Can I? Can I really? Aren’t those pods awful – rotting and stinky? So how can it be that I would possibly want to eat them?’
‘Desperado, why don’t you come to your senses? What about your father’s hired men? Don’t they get three square meals a day? What are you doing here? Wouldn’t it be a good idea to get up, go home and ask your father to allow you to work for him? Isn’t even that better than this? You can humble yourself and tell him you’re no longer worthy to be called a son, can’t you? You do realize you’ll have to do that?’
‘Could it be? How far off is he? Is it really him? How can I get to him quickly?’
‘Is that my dad, running?’
‘How glad am I that you have returned? May I greet you with a kiss? (to Servant) Can you fetch a coat? Oh, and don’t forget the shoes, will you? Does this ring fit? Sparkly, isn’t it? Have you seen the inscription? Do you still like roast beef?’
‘Will you hold the volume of the music down for a moment while I make a speech, please? H’mm, where are my notes? Oh, is that where I left them? Is our son lost, or even dead? Isn’t that the question we asked ourselves?
‘But now, will you look at him? Is this young man found and alive, or what?
‘So, who was it that made the excellent suggestion “Shall we sing hymn number 650 ‘And can it be?’?”?’
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