The Collected Shorter Plays (9 page)

B
I see none.

A
[
vehement
] Is there no green anywhere?

B
There’s a little moss. [
Pause. A clasps his hands on the rug and rests his head on them
.] Good God! Don’t tell me you’re going to pray?

A
No.

B
Or weep?

A
No. [
Pause
.] I could stay like that for ever, with my head on an old man’s knees.

B
Knee. [
Shaking him roughly
.] Get up, can’t you!

A
[
settling himself more comfortably
] What peace! [
B pushes him roughly away, A falls to his hands and knees
.] Dora used to say, the days I hadn’t earned enough, You and your harp! You’d do better crawling on all fours, with your father’s medals pinned to your arse and a money box round your neck. You and your harp! Who do you think you are? And she made me sleep on the floor. [
Pause
.] Who I thought I was . . . [
Pause
.] Ah that . . . I never could . . . [
Pause. He gets up
.] Never could . . . [
He starts groping again for his stool, halts, listens
.] If I listened long enough I’d hear it, a string would give.

B
Your harp? [
Pause
.] What’s all this about a harp?

A
I once had a little harp. Be still and let me listen.
[
Pause
.]

B
How long are you going to stay like that?

A
I can stay for hours listening to all the sounds.
[
They listen
.]

B
What sounds?

A
I don’t know what they are.
[
They listen
.]

B
I can see it. [
Pause
.] I can—

A
[
imploring
] Will you not be still?

B
No! [
A takes his head in his hands
.] I can see it clearly, over there on the stool. [
Pause
.] What if I took it, Billy, and made off with it? [
Pause
.] Eh Billy, what would you say to that? [
Pause
.] There might be another old man, some day, would come out of his hole and find you playing the mouth-organ. And you’d tell him of the little fiddle you once had. [
Pause
.] Eh Billy? [
Pause
.] Or singing. [
Pause
.] Eh Billy, what would you say to that? [
Pause
.] There croaking to the winter wind [
rime with unkind
], having lost his little mouth-organ. [
He pokes him in the back with the pole
.] Eh Billy? [
A whirls round, seizes the end of the pole and wrenches it from B’s grasp
.]

Upstage centre high double window open on bright night sky. Moon invisible.

Downstage audience left, equidistant from wall and axis of window, small table and chair. On table an extinguished reading-lamp and a briefcase crammed with documents
.

Downstage right, forming symmetry, identical table and chair. Extinguished lamp only
.

Downstage left door
.

Standing motionless before left half of window with his back to stage, C
.

Long pause
.

Enter A. He closes door, goes to table on right and sits with his back to right wall. Pause. He switches on lamp, takes out his watch, consults it and lays it on the table. Pause. He switches off. Long pause
.

Enter B. He closes door, goes to table on left and sits with his back to left wall. Pause. He switches on lamp, opens briefcase and empties contents on table. He looks round, sees A
.

B
Well!

A
Hsst! Switch off. [
B switches off. Long pause. Low
.] What a night! [
Long pause. Musing
.] I still don’t understand. [
Pause
.] Why he needs our services. [
Pause
.] A man like him. [
Pause
.] And why we give them free. [
Pause
.] Men like us. [
Pause
.] Mystery. [
Pause
.] Ah well . . . [
Pause. He switches on
.] Shall we go? [
B switches on, rummages in his papers
.]
The crux. [
B rummages
.] We sum up and clear out. [
B rummages
.] Set to go?

B
Rearing.

A
We attend.

B
Let him jump.

A
When?

B
Now.

A
From where?

B
From here will do. Three to three and a half metres per floor, say twenty-five in all.
[
Pause
.]

A
I could have sworn we were only on the sixth. [
Pause
.] He runs no risk?

B
He has only to land on his arse, the way he lived. The spine snaps and the tripes explode.
[
Pause. A gets up, goes to the window, leans out, looks down. He straightens up, looks at the sky. Pause. He goes back to his seat
.]

A
Full moon.

B
Not quite. Tomorrow.
[
A takes a little diary from his pocket
.]

A
What’s the date?

B
Twenty-fourth. Twenty-fifth tomorrow.

A
[
turning pages
] Nineteen . . . twenty-two . . . twenty-four. [
Reads
.] “Our Lady of Succour. Full moon.” [
He puts back the diary in his pocket
.] We were saying then . . . what was it . . . let him jump. Our conclusion. Right?

B
Work, family, third fatherland, cunt, finances, art and nature, heart and conscience, health, housing conditions, God and man, so many disasters.
[
Pause
.]

A
[
meditative
] Does it follow? [
Pause
.] Does it follow? [
Pause
.] And his sense of humour? Of proportion?

B
Swamped.
[
Pause
.]

A
May we not be mistaken?

B
[
indignant
] We have been to the best sources. All weighed and weighed again, checked and verified. Not a word here [
brandishing sheaf of papers
] that is not cast iron. Tied together like a cathedral. [
He flings down the papers on the table. They scatter on the floor
.] Shit! [
He picks them up
. A
raises his lamp and shines it about him
.]

A
Seen worse dumps. [
Turning towards window
.] Worse out looks. [
Pause
.] Is that Jupiter we see? [
Pause
.]

B
Where?

A
Switch off. [
They switch off
.] It must be.

B
[
irritated
] Where?

A
[
irritated
] There. [
B cranes
.] There, on the right, in the corner.
[
Pause
.]

B
No. It twinkles.

A
What is it then?

B
[
indifferent
] No idea. Sirius. [
He switches on
.] Well? Do we work or play?
[
A switches on
.] You forget this is not his home. He’s only here to take care of the cat. At the end of the month shoosh back to the barge.
[
Pause. Louder
.] You forget this is not his home.

A
[
irritated
] I forget, I forget! And he, does he not forget? [
With passion
.]
But that’s what saves us!

B
[
searching through his papers
] Memory . . . memory . . . [
He takes up a sheet
.] I quote: “An elephant’s for the eating cares, a sparrow’s for the Lydian airs.” Testimony of Mr. Swell, organist at Seaton Sluice and lifelong friend.
[
Pause
.]

A
[
glum
] Tsstss!

B
I quote: “Questioned on this occasion”—open brackets—“(judicial separation)”—close brackets—“regarding the deterioration of our relations, all he could adduce was the five or six miscarriages which clouded”—open brackets—“(oh through no act of mine!)”—close brackets—“the early days of our union and the veto which in consequence I had finally to oppose”—open brackets—“(oh not for want of inclination!)”—close brackets—“to anything remotely
resembling the work of love. But on the subject of our happiness”—open brackets— “(for it too came our way, unavoidably, and here my mind goes back to the first vows exchanged at Wootton Bassett under the bastard acacias, or again to the first fifteen minutes of our wedding night at Littlestone-on-Sea, or yet again to those first long studious evenings in our nest on Commercial Road East)”—close brackets—“on the subject of our happiness not a word, Sir, not one word.” Testimony of Mrs. Aspasia Budd-Croker, button designer in residence, Commercial Road East.

A
[
glum
] Tsstss!

B
I quote again: “Of our national epos he remembered only the calamities, which did not prevent him from winning a minor scholarship in the subject.” Testimony of Mr. Peaberry, market gardener in the Deeping Fens and lifelong friend. [
Pause
.] “Not a tear was known to fall in our family, and God knows they did in torrents, that was not caught up and piously preserved in that inexhaustible reservoir of sorrow, with the date, the hour and the occasion, and not a joy, fortunately they were few, that was not on the contrary irrevocably dissolved, as by a corrosive. In that he took after me.” Testimony of the late Mrs. Darcy-Croker, woman of letters. [
Pause
.] Care for more?

A
Enough.

B
I quote: “To hear him talk about his life, after a glass or two, you would have thought he had never set foot outside hell. He had us in stitches. I worked it up into a skit that went down well.” Testimony of Mr. Moore, light comedian, c/o Widow Merryweather-Moore, All Saints on the Wash, and lifelong friend. [
Pause
.]

A
[
stricken
] Tsstss! [
Pause
.] Tsstsstss!

B
You see. [
Emphatic
.] This is not his home and he knows it full well.
[
Pause
.]

A
Now let’s have the positive elements.

B
Positive? You mean of a nature to make him think . . . [
hesitates, then with sudden violence
] . . . that some day things might change? Is that what you want? [
Pause. Calmer
.] There are none.

A
[
wearily
] Oh yes there are, that’s the beauty of it.
[
Pause. B rummages in his papers
.]

B
[
looking up
] Forgive me, Bertrand. [
Pause. Rummages. Looks up
.] I don’t know what came over me. [
Pause. Rummages. Looks up
.] A moment of consternation. [
Pause. Rummages
.] There is that incident of the lottery . . . possibly. Remember?

A
No.

B
[
reading
] “Two hundred lots . . . winner receives high class watch . . . solid gold, hallmark nineteen carats, marvel of accuracy, showing year, month, date, day, hour, minute and second, super chic, unbreakable hair spring, chrono escapement nineteen rubies, anti-shock, anti-magnetic, airtight, waterproof, stainless, self-winding, centre seconds hand, Swiss parts, de luxe lizard band.”

A
What did I tell you? However unhopefully. The mere fact of chancing his luck. I knew he had a spark left in him.

B
The trouble is he didn’t procure it himself. It was a gift. That you forget.

A
[
irritated
] I forget, I forget! And he, does he not— [
Pause
.] At least he kept it.

B
If you can call it that.

A
At least he accepted it. [
Pause
.] At least he didn’t refuse it.

B
I quote: “The last time I laid eyes on him I was on my way to the Post Office to cash an order for back-pay. The area before the building is shut off by a row of bollards with chains hung between them. He was seated on one of these with his back to the Thompson works. To all appearances down and out. He sat doubled in two, his hands on his knees, his legs astraddle, his head sunk. For a moment I wondered if he was not vomiting. But on drawing nearer I could see he was merely scrutinizing, between his feet, a lump of dogshit. I moved it slightly with the tip of my umbrella and observed how his gaze followed the movement and fastened on the object in its new position. This at three o’clock in the afternoon if you please! I confess I had not the heart to bid him the time of day, I was overcome. I simply slipped into his hip pocket a lottery ticket I had no use for, while silently wishing him the best of luck. When two hours
later I emerged from the Post Office, having cashed my order, he was at the same place and in the same attitude. I sometimes wonder if he is still alive.” Testimony of Mr. Feckman, certified accountant and friend for better and for worse.
[
Pause
.]

A
Dated when?

B
Recent.

A
It has such a bygone ring. [
Pause
.] Nothing else?

B
Oh . . . bits and scraps . . . good graces of an heirless aunt . . . unfinished—

A
Hairless aunt?

B
. . . heirless aunt . . . unfinished game of chess with a correspondent in Tasmania . . . hope not dead of living to see the extermination of the species . . . literary aspirations incompletely stifled . . . bottom of a dairy-woman in Waterloo Lane . . . you see the kind of thing.
[
Pause
.]