Complete Works, Volume IV

by Harold Pinter

  JERRY Without consulting me. Without even warning me. After all, you and me . . .

  ROBERT She didn’t tell me last night.

  JERRY What do you mean?

  Pause.

  I know about last night. She told me about it. You were up all night, weren’t you?

  ROBERT That’s correct.

  JERRY And she told you . . . last night . . . about her and me. Did she not?

  ROBERT No, she didn’t. She didn’t tell me about you and her last night. She told me about you and her four years ago.

  Pause.

  So she didn’t have to tell me again last night. Because I knew. And she knew I knew because she told me herself four years ago.

  Silence.

  JERRY What?

  ROBERT I think I will sit down.

  He sits.

  I thought you knew.

  JERRY Knew what?

  ROBERT That I knew. That I’ve known for years. I thought you knew that.

  JERRY You thought I knew?

  ROBERT She said you didn’t. But I didn’t believe that.

  Pause.

  Anyway I think I thought you knew. But you say you didn’t?

  JERRY She told you . . . when?

  ROBERT Well, I found out. That’s what happened. I told her I’d found out and then she . . . confirmed . . . the facts.

  JERRY When?

  ROBERT Oh, a long time ago, Jerry.

  Pause.

  JERRY But we’ve seen each other . . . a great deal . . . over the last four years. We’ve had lunch.

  ROBERT Never played squash though.

  JERRY I was your best friend.

  ROBERT Well, yes, sure.

  Jerry stares at him and then holds his head in his hands.

  Oh, don’t get upset. There’s no point.

  Silence.

  Jerry sits up.

  JERRY Why didn’t she tell me?

  ROBERT Well, I’m not her, old boy.

  JERRY Why didn’t you tell me?

  Pause.

  ROBERT I thought you might know.

  JERRY But you didn’t know for certain, did you? You didn’t know!

  ROBERT No.

  JERRY Then why didn’t you tell me?

  Pause.

  ROBERT Tell you what?

  JERRY That you knew. You bastard.

  ROBERT Oh, don’t call me a bastard, Jerry.

  Pause.

  JERRY What are we going to do?

  ROBERT You and I are not going to do anything. My marriage is finished. I’ve just got to make proper arrangements, that’s all. About the children.

  Pause.

  JERRY You hadn’t thought of telling Judith?

  ROBERT Telling Judith what? Oh, about you and Emma. You mean she never knew? Are you quite sure?

  Pause.

  No, I hadn’t thought of telling Judith, actually. You don’t seem to understand. You don’t seem to understand that I don’t give a shit about any of this. It’s true I’ve hit Emma once or twice. But that wasn’t to defend a principle. I wasn’t inspired to do it from any kind of moral standpoint. I just felt like giving her a good bashing. The old itch . . . you understand.

  Pause.

  JERRY But you betrayed her for years, didn’t you?

  ROBERT Oh yes.

  JERRY And she never knew about it. Did she?

  ROBERT Didn’t she?

  Pause.

  JERRY I didn’t.

  ROBERT No, you didn’t know very much about anything, really, did you?

  Pause.

  JERRY No.

  ROBERT Yes you did.

  JERRY Yes I did. I lived with her.

  ROBERT Yes. In the afternoons.

  JERRY Sometimes very long ones. For seven years.

  ROBERT Yes, you certainly knew all there was to know about that. About the seven years of afternoons. I don’t know anything about that.

  Pause.

  I hope she looked after you all right.

  Silence.

  JERRY We used to like each other.

  ROBERT We still do.

  Pause.

  I bumped into old Casey the other day. I believe he’s having an affair with my wife. We haven’t played squash for years, Casey and me. We used to have a damn good game.

  JERRY He’s put on weight.

  ROBERT Yes, I thought that.

  JERRY He’s over the hill.

  ROBERT Is he?

  JERRY Don’t you think so?

  ROBERT In what respect?

  JERRY His work. His books.

  ROBERT Oh his books. His art. Yes his art does seem to be falling away, doesn’t it?

  JERRY Still sells.

  ROBERT Oh, sells very well. Sells very well indeed. Very good for us. For you and me.

  JERRY Yes.

  ROBERT Someone was telling me—who was it—must have been someone in the publicity department—the other day—that when Casey went up to York to sign his latest book, in a bookshop, you know, with Barbara Spring, you know, the populace queued for hours to get his signature on his book, while one old lady and a dog queued to get Barbara Spring’s signature, on her book. I happen to think that Barbara Spring . . . is good, don’t you?

  JERRY Yes.

  Pause.

  ROBERT Still, we both do very well out of Casey, don’t we?

  JERRY Very well.

  Pause.

  ROBERT Have you read any good books lately?

  JERRY I’ve been reading Yeats.

  ROBERT Ah. Yeats. Yes.

  Pause.

  JERRY You read Yeats on Torcello once.

  ROBERT On Torcello?

  JERRY Don’t you remember? Years ago. You went over to Torcello in the dawn, alone. And read Yeats.

  ROBERT So I did. I told you that, yes.

  Pause.

  Yes.

  Pause.

  Where are you going this summer, you and the family?

  JERRY The Lake District.

  1975

  SCENE THREE

  Flat. 1975. Winter.

  Jerry and Emma. They are sitting.

  Silence.

  JERRY What do you want to do then?

  Pause.

  EMMA I don’t quite know what we’re doing, any more, that’s all.

  JERRY Mmnn.

  Pause.

  EMMA I mean, this flat . . .

  JERRY Yes.

  EMMA Can you actually remember when we were last here?

  JERRY In the summer, was it?

  EMMA Well, was it?

  JERRY I know it seems—

  EMMA It was the beginning of September.

  JERRY Well, that’s summer, isn’t it?

  EMMA It was actually extremely cold. It was early autumn.

  JERRY It’s pretty cold now.

  EMMA We were going to get another electric fire.

  JERRY Yes, I never got that.

  EMMA Not much point in getting it if we’re never here.

  JERRY We’re here now.

  EMMA Not really.

  Silence.

  JERRY Well, things have changed. You’ve been so busy, your job, and everything.

  EMMA Well, I know. But I mean, I like it. I want to do it.

  JERRY No, it’s great. It’s marvellous for you. But you’re not—

  EMMA If you’re running a gallery you’ve got to run it, you’ve got to be there.

  JERRY But you’re not free in the afternoons. Are you?

  EMMA No.

  JERRY So how can we meet?

  EMMA But look at the times you’re out of the country. You’re never here.

  JERRY But when I am here you’re not free in the afternoons. So we can never meet.

  EMMA We can meet for lunch.

  JERRY We can meet for lunch but we can’t come all the way out here for a quick lunch. I’m too old for that.

  EMMA I didn’t suggest that.

  Pause.

  You see, in the past . . . we were inventive, we were determined, it was
. . . it seemed impossible to meet . . . impossible . . . and yet we did. We met here, we took this flat and we met in this flat because we wanted to.

  JERRY It would not matter how much we wanted to if you’re not free in the afternoons and I’m in America.

  Silence.

  Nights have always been out of the question and you know it. I have a family.

  EMMA I have a family too.

  JERRY I know that perfectly well. I might remind you that your husband is my oldest friend.

  EMMA What do you mean by that?

  JERRY I don’t mean anything by it.

  EMMA But what are you trying to say by saying that?

  JERRY Jesus. I’m not trying to say anything. I’ve said precisely what I wanted to say.

  EMMA I see.

  Pause.

  The fact is that in the old days we used our imagination and we’d take a night and make an arrangement and go to an hotel.

  JERRY Yes. We did.

  Pause.

  But that was . . . in the main . . . before we got this flat.

  EMMA We haven’t spent many nights . . . in this flat.

  JERRY No.

  Pause.

  Not many nights anywhere, really.

  Silence.

  EMMA Can you afford . . . to keep it going, month after month?

  JERRY Oh . . .

  EMMA It’s a waste. Nobody comes here. I just can’t bear to think about it, actually. Just . . . empty. All day and night. Day after day and night after night. I mean the crockery and the curtains and the bedspread and everything. And the tablecloth I brought from Venice. (Laughs.) It’s ridiculous.

  Pause.

  It’s just . . . an empty home.

  JERRY It’s not a home.

  Pause.

  I know . . . I know what you wanted . . . but it could never . . . actually be a home. You have a home. I have a home. With curtains, et cetera. And children. Two children in two homes. There are no children here, so it’s not the same kind of home.

  EMMA It was never intended to be the same kind of home. Was it?

  Pause.

  You didn’t ever see it as a home, in any sense, did you?

  JERRY No, I saw it as a flat . . . you know.

  EMMA For fucking.

  JERRY No, for loving.

  EMMA Well, there’s not much of that left, is there?

  Silence.

  JERRY I don’t think we don’t love each other.

  Pause.

  EMMA Ah well.

  Pause.

  What will you do about all the . . . furniture?

  JERRY What?

  EMMA The contents.

  Silence.

  JERRY You know we can do something very simple, if we want to do it.

  EMMA You mean sell it to Mrs Banks for a small sum and . . . and she can let it as a furnished flat?

  JERRY That’s right. Wasn’t the bed here?

  EMMA What?

  JERRY Wasn’t it?

  EMMA We bought the bed. We bought everything. We bought the bed together.

  JERRY Ah. Yes.

  Emma stands.

  EMMA You’ll make all the arrangements, then? With Mrs Banks?

  Pause.

  I don’t want anything. Nowhere I can put it, you see. I have a home, with tablecloths and all the rest of it.

  JERRY I’ll go into it, with Mrs Banks. There’ll be a few quid, you know, so . . .

  EMMA No, I don’t want any cash, thank you very much.

  Silence. She puts coat on.

  I’m going now.

  He turns, looks at her.

  Oh here’s my key.

  Takes out keyring, tries to take key from ring.

  Oh Christ.

  Struggles to take key from ring.

  Throws him the ring.

  You take it off.

  He catches it, looks at her.

  Can you just do it please? I’m picking up Charlotte from school. I’m taking her shopping.

  He takes key off.

  Do you realise this is an afternoon? It’s the Gallery’s afternoon off. That’s why I’m here. We close every Thursday afternoon. Can I have my keyring?

  He gives it to her.

  Thanks. Listen. I think we’ve made absolutely the right decision.

  She goes.

  He stands.

  1974

  SCENE FOUR

  Robert and Emma’s House. Living room. 1974.

  Autumn.

  Robert pouring a drink for Jerry. He goes to the door.

  ROBERT Emma! Jerry’s here!

  EMMA (off) Who?

  ROBERT Jerry.

  EMMA I’ll be down.

  Robert gives the drink to Jerry.

  JERRY Cheers.

  ROBERT Cheers. She’s just putting Ned to bed. I should think he’ll be off in a minute.

  JERRY Off where?

  ROBERT Dreamland.

  JERRY Ah. Yes, how is your sleep these days?

  ROBERT What?

  JERRY Do you still have bad nights? With Ned, I mean?

  ROBERT Oh, I see. Well, no. No, it’s getting better. But you know what they say?

  JERRY What?

  ROBERT They say boys are worse than girls.

  JERRY Worse?

  ROBERT Babies. They say boy babies cry more than girl babies.

  JERRY Do they?

  ROBERT You didn’t find that to be the case?

  JERRY Uh . . . yes, I think we did. Did you?

  ROBERT Yes. What do you make of it? Why do you think that is?

  JERRY Well, I suppose . . . boys are more anxious.

  ROBERT Boy babies?

  JERRY Yes.

  ROBERT What the hell are they anxious about . . . at their age? Do you think?

  JERRY Well . . . facing the world, I suppose, leaving the womb, all that.

  ROBERT But what about girl babies? They leave the womb too.

  JERRY That’s true. It’s also true that nobody talks much about girl babies leaving the womb. Do they?

  ROBERT I am prepared to do so.

  JERRY I see. Well, what have you got to say?

  ROBERT I was asking you a question.

  JERRY What was it?

  ROBERT Why do you assert that boy babies find leaving the womb more of a problem than girl babies?

  JERRY Have I made such an assertion?

  ROBERT You went on to make a further assertion, to the effect that boy babies are more anxious about facing the world than girl babies.

  JERRY Do you yourself believe that to be the case?

  ROBERT I do, yes.

  JERRY Why do you think it is?

  ROBERT I have no answer.

  Pause.

  JERRY Do you think it might have something to do with the difference between the sexes?

  Pause.

  ROBERT Good God, you’re right. That must be it.

  Emma comes in.

  EMMA Hullo. Surprise.

  JERRY I was having tea with Casey.

  EMMA Where?

  JERRY Just around the corner.

  EMMA I thought he lived in . . . Hampstead or somewhere.

  ROBERT You’re out of date.

  EMMA Am I?

  JERRY He’s left Susannah. He’s living alone round the corner.

  EMMA Oh.

  ROBERT Writing a novel about a man who leaves his wife and three children and goes to live alone on the other side of London to write a novel about a man who leaves his wife and three children—

  EMMA I hope it’s better than the last one.

  ROBERT The last one? Ah, the last one. Wasn’t that the one about the man who lived in a big house in Hampstead with his wife and three children and is writing a novel about—?

  JERRY (to Emma) Why didn’t you like it?

  EMMA I’ve told you actually.

  JERRY I think it’s the best thing he’s written.

  EMMA It may be the best thing he’s written but it’s still bloody dishonest.

  JERRY Dis
honest? In what way dishonest?

  EMMA I’ve told you, actually.

  JERRY Have you?

  ROBERT Yes, she has. Once when we were all having dinner, I remember, you, me, Emma and Judith, where was it, Emma gave a dissertation over the pudding about dishonesty in Casey with reference to his last novel. ‘Drying out.’ it was most stimulating. Judith had to leave unfortunately in the middle of it for her night shift at the hospital. How is Judith, by the way?

  JERRY Very well.

  Pause.

  ROBERT When are we going to play squash?

  JERRY You’re too good.

  ROBERT Not at all. I’m not good at all. I’m just fitter than you.

  JERRY But why? Why are you fitter than me?

  ROBERT Because I play squash.

  JERRY Oh, you’re playing? Regularly?

  ROBERT Mmnn.

  JERRY With whom?

  ROBERT Casey, actually.

  JERRY Casey? Good Lord. What’s he like?

  ROBERT He’s a brutally honest squash player. No, really, we haven’t played for years. We must play. You were rather good.

  JERRY Yes, I was quite good. All right. I’ll give you a ring.

  ROBERT Why don’t you?

  JERRY We’ll make a date.

  ROBERT Right.

  JERRY Yes. We must do that.

  ROBERT And then I’ll take you to lunch.

  JERRY No, no. I’ll take you to lunch.

  ROBERT The man who wins buys the lunch.

  EMMA Can I watch?

  Pause.

  ROBERT What?

  EMMA Why can’t I watch and then take you both to lunch?

  ROBERT Well, to be brutally honest, we wouldn’t actually want a woman around, would we, Jerry? I mean a game of squash isn’t simply a game of squash, it’s rather more than that. You see, first there’s the game. And then there’s the shower. And then there’s the pint. And then there’s lunch. After all, you’ve been at it. You’ve had your battle. What you want is your pint and your lunch. You really don’t want a woman buying you lunch. You don’t actually want a woman within a mile of the place, any of the places, really. You don’t want her in the squash court, you don’t want her in the shower, or the pub, or the restaurant. You see, at lunch you want to talk about squash, or cricket, or books, or even women, with your friend, and be able to warm to your theme without fear of improper interruption. That’s what it’s all about. What do you think, Jerry?

  JERRY I haven’t played squash for years.

  Pause.

  ROBERT Well, let’s play next week.

  JERRY I can’t next week. I’m in New York.

  EMMA Are you?

  JERRY I’m going over with one of my more celebrated writers, actually.

  EMMA Who?

  JERRY Casey. Someone wants to film that novel of his you didn’t like. We’re going over to discuss it. It was a question of them coming over here or us going over there. Casey thought he deserved the trip.