MAX In an affair that’s been going on for years.
SARAH She doesn’t mind, she wouldn’t mind – she’s happy, she’s happy.
Pause.
I wish you’d stop this rubbish, anyway.
She picks up the tea-tray and moves towards the kitchen.
You’re doing your best to ruin the whole afternoon.
She takes the tray out. She then returns, looks at MAX and goes to him.
Darling. You don’t really think you could have what we have with your wife, do you? I mean, my husband, for instance, completely appreciates that I –
MAX How does he bear it, your husband? How does he bear it? Doesn’t he smell me when he comes back in the evenings? What does he say? He must be mad. Now – what’s the time – half-past four – now when he’s sitting in his office, knowing what’s going on here, what does he feel, how does he bear it?
SARAH Max –
MAX How?
SARAH He’s happy for me. He appreciates the way I am. He understands.
MAX Perhaps I should meet him and have a word with him.
SARAH Are you drunk?
MAX Perhaps I should do that. After all, he’s a man, like me. We’re both men. You’re just a bloody woman.
She slams the table.
SARAH Stop it! What’s the matter with you? What’s happened to you? (Quietly.) Please, please, stop it. What are you doing, playing a game?
MAX A game? I don’t play games.
SARAH Don’t you? You do. Oh, you do. You do. Usually I like them.
MAX I’ve played my last game.
SARAH Why?
Slight pause.
MAX The children.
Pause.
SARAH What?
MAX The children. I’ve got to think of the children.
SARAH What children?
MAX My children. My wife’s children. Any minute now they’ll be out of boarding school. I’ve got to think of them.
She sits close to him.
SARAH I want to whisper something to you. Listen. Let me whisper to you. Mmmm? Can I? Please? It’s whispering time. Earlier it was teatime, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? Now it’s whispering time.
Pause.
You like me to whisper to you. You like me to love you, whispering. Listen. You mustn’t worry about … wives, husbands, things like that. It’s silly. It’s really silly. It’s you, you now, here, here with me, here together, that’s what it is, isn’t it? You whisper to me, you take tea with me, you do that, don’t you, that’s what we are, that’s us, love me.
He stands up.
MAX You’re too bony.
He walks away.
That’s what it is, you see. I could put up with everything if it wasn’t for that. You’re too bony.
SARAH Me? Bony? Don’t be ridiculous.
MAX I’m not.
SARAH How can you say I’m bony?
MAX Every move I make, your bones stick into me. I’m sick and tired of your bones.
SARAH What are you talking about?
MAX I’m telling you you’re too bony.
SARAH But I’m fat! Look at me. I’m plump anyway. You always told me I was plump.
MAX You were plump once. You’re not plump any more.
SARAH Look at me.
He looks.
MAX You’re not plump enough. You’re nowhere near plump enough. You know what I like. I like enormous women. Like bullocks with udders. Vast great uddered bullocks.
SARAH You mean cows.
MAX I don’t mean cows. I mean voluminous great uddered feminine bullocks. Once, years ago, you vaguely resembled one.
SARAH Oh, thanks.
MAX But now, quite honestly, compared to my ideal …
He stares at her.
… you’re skin and bone.
They stare at each other. He puts on his jacket.
SARAH You’re having a lovely joke.
MAX It’s no joke.
He goes out. She looks after him. She turns, goes slowly towards the bongo drum, picks it up, puts it in the cupboard. She turns, looks at chaise a moment, walks slowly into the bedroom, sits on the end of the bed. The lights fade.
Fade up. Early evening. Six chimes of the clock, RICHARD comes in the front door. He is wearing his sober suit. He puts his briefcase in cupboard, hat on hook, looks about the room, pours a drink, SARAH comes into the bedroom from bathroom, wearing a sober dress. They both stand quite still in the two rooms for a few moments, SARAH moves to the balcony, looks out, RICHARD comes into the bedroom.
RICHARD Hello.
Pause.
SARAH Hello.
RICHARD Watching the sunset?
He picks up a bottle.
Drink?
SARAH Not at the moment, thank you.
RICHARD Oh, what a dreary conference. Went on all day. Terribly fatiguing. Still, good work done, I think. Something achieved. Sorry I’m rather late. Had to have a drink with one or two of the overseas people. Good chaps.
He sits.
How are you?
SARAH Fine.
RICHARD Good.
Silence.
You seem a little depressed. Anything the matter?
SARAH No.
RICHARD What sort of day have you had?
SARAH Not bad.
RICHARD Not good?
Pause.
SARAH Fair.
RICHARD Oh, I’m sorry.
Pause.
Good to be home, I must say. You can’t imagine what a comfort it is.
Pause.
Lover come?
She does not reply.
Sarah?
SARAH What? Sorry. I was thinking of something.
RICHARD Did your lover come?
SARAH Oh yes. He came.
RICHARD In good shape?
SARAH I have a headache actually.
RICHARD Wasn’t he in good shape?
Pause.
SARAH We all have our off days.
RICHARD He, too? I thought the whole point of being a lover is that one didn’t. I mean if I, for instance, were called upon to fulfil the function of a lover and felt disposed, shall we say, to accept the job, well, I’d as soon give it up as be found incapable of executing its proper and consistent obligation.
SARAH You do use long words.
RICHARD Would you prefer me to use short ones?
SARAH No, thank you.
Pause.
RICHARD But I am sorry you had a bad day.
SARAH It’s quite all right.
RICHARD Perhaps things will improve.
SARAH Perhaps.
Pause.
I hope so.
She leaves the bedroom, goes into the living room, lights a cigarette and sits. He follows.
RICHARD Nevertheless, I find you very beautiful.
SARAH Thank you.
RICHARD Yes, I find you very beautiful. I have great pride in being seen with you. When we’re out to dinner, or at the theatre.
SARAH I’m so glad.
RICHARD Or at the Hunt Ball.
SARAH Yes, the Hunt Ball.
RICHARD Great pride, to walk with you as my wife on my arm. To see you smile, laugh, walk, talk, bend, be still. To hear your command of contemporary phraseology, your delicate use of the very latest idiomatic expression, so subtly employed. Yes. To feel the envy of others, their attempts to gain favour with you, by fair means or foul, your austere grace confounding them. And to know you are my wife. It’s a source of a profound satisfaction to me.
Pause.
What’s for dinner.
SARAH I haven’t thought.
RICHARD Oh, why not?
SARAH I find the thought of dinner fatiguing. I prefer not to think about it.
RICHARD That’s rather unfortunate. I’m hungry.
Slight pause.
You hardly expect me to embark on dinner after a day spent sifting matters of high finance in the City.
She laughs.
One could even sug
gest you were falling down on your wifely duties.
SARAH Oh dear.
RICHARD I must say I rather suspected this would happen, sooner or later.
Pause.
SARAH How’s your whore?
RICHARD Splendid.
SARAH Fatter or thinner?
RICHARD I beg your pardon?
SARAH Is she fatter or thinner?
RICHARD She gets thinner every day.
SARAH That must displease you.
RICHARD Not at all. I’m fond of thin ladies.
SARAH I thought the contrary.
RICHARD Really? Why would you have thought that?
Pause.
Of course, your failure to have dinner on the table is quite consistent with the life you’ve been leading for some time, isn’t it?
SARAH Is it?
RICHARD Entirely.
Slight pause.
Perhaps I’m being unkind. Am I being unkind?
SARAH (looks at him) I don’t know.
RICHARD Yes, I am. In the traffic jam on the bridge just now, you see, I came to a decision.
Pause.
SARAH Oh? What?
RICHARD That it has to stop.
SARAH What?
RICHARD Your debauchery.
Pause.
Your life of depravity. Your path of illegitimate lust.
SARAH Really?
RICHARD Yes, I’ve come to an irrevocable decision on that point.
She stands.
SARAH Would you like some cold ham?
RICHARD Do you understand me?
SARAH Not at all. I have something cold in the fridge.
RICHARD Too cold, I’m sure. The fact is this is my house. From today, I forbid you to entertain your lover on these premises. This applies to any time of the day. Is that understood.
SARAH I’ve made a salad for you.
RICHARD Are you drinking?
SARAH Yes, I’ll have one.
RICHARD What are you drinking?
SARAH You know what I drink. We’ve been married ten years.
RICHARD So we have.
He pours.
It’s strange, of course, that it’s taken me so long to appreciate the humiliating ignominy of my position.
SARAH I didn’t take my lover ten years ago. Not quite. Not on the honeymoon.
RICHARD That’s irrelevant. The fact is I am a husband who has extended to his wife’s lover open house on any afternoon of her desire. I’ve been too kind. Haven’t I been too kind?
SARAH But of course. You’re terribly kind.
RICHARD Perhaps you would give him my compliments, by letter if you like, and ask him to cease his visits from – (He consults calendar.) the twelfth inst.
Long silence.
SARAH How can you talk like this?
Pause.
Why today … so suddenly?
Pause.
Mmmm?
She is close to him.
You’ve had a hard day … at the office. All those overseas people. It’s so tiring. But it’s silly, it’s so silly, to talk like this. I’m here. For you. And you’ve always appreciated … how much these afternoons … mean. You’ve always understood.
She presses her cheek to his.
Understanding is so rare, so dear.
RICHARD Do you think it’s pleasant to know that your wife is unfaithful to you two or three times a week, with great regularity?
SARAH Richard –
RICHARD It’s insupportable. It has become insupportable. I’m no longer disposed to put up with it.
SARAH (to him) Sweet… Richard … please.
RICHARD Please what?
She stops.
Can I tell you what I suggest you do?
SARAH What?
RICHARD Take him out into the fields. Find a ditch. Or a slag heap. Find a rubbish dump. Mmmm? What about that?
She stands still.
Buy a canoe and find a stagnant pond. Anything. Anywhere. But not my living-room.
SARAH I’m afraid that’s not possible.
RICHARD Why not?
SARAH I said it’s not possible.
RICHARD But if you want your lover so much, surely that’s the obvious thing to do, since his entry to this house is now barred. I’m trying to be helpful, darling, because of my love for you. You can see that. If I find him on these premises I’ll kick his teeth out.
SARAH You’re mad.
He stares at her.
RICHARD I’ll kick his head in.
Pause.
SARAH What about your own bloody whore?
RICHARD I’ve paid her off.
SARAH Have you? Why?
RICHARD She was too bony.
Slight pause.
SARAH But you liked … you said you liked … Richard … but you love me …
RICHARD Of course.
SARAH Yes … you love me … you don’t mind him … you understand him… don’t you? … I mean, you know better than I do … darling … all’s well … all’s well … the evenings … and the afternoons … do you see? Listen, I do have dinner for you. It’s ready. I wasn’t serious. It’s Boeuf Bourgignon. And tomorrow I’ll have Chicken Chasseur. Would you like it? They look at each other.
RICHARD (softly) Adulteress.
SARAH You can’t talk like this, it’s impossible, you know you can’t. What do you think you’re doing?
He remains looking at her for a second, then moves into the hall.
He opens the hall cupboard and takes out the bongo drum.
She watches him.
He returns.
RICHARD What’s this? I found it some time ago. What is it?
Pause.
What is it?
SARAH You shouldn’t touch that.
RICHARD But it’s in my house. It belongs either to me, or to you, or to another.
SARAH It’s nothing. I bought it in a jumble sale. It’s nothing. What do you think it is? Put it back.
RICHARD Nothing? This? A drum in my cupboard?
SARAH Put it back!
RICHARD It isn’t by any chance anything to do with your illicit afternoons?
SARAH Not at all. Why should it?
RICHARD It is used. This is used, isn’t it? I can guess.
SARAH You guess nothing. Give it to me.
RICHARD How does he use it? How do you use it? Do you play it while I’m at the office?
She tries to take the drum. He holds on to it. They are still, hands on the drum.
What function does this fulfil? It’s not just an ornament, I take it? What do you do with it?
SARAH (with quiet anguish) You’ve no right to question me. No right at all. It was our arrangement. No questions of this kind. Please. Don’t, don’t. It was our arrangement.
RICHARD I want to know.
She closes her eyes.
SARAH Don’t …
RICHARD Do you both play it? Mmmmnn? Do you both play it? Together?
She moves away swiftly, then turns, hissing.
SARAH You stupid …! (She looks at him coolly.) Do you think he’s the only one who comes! Do you? Do you think he’s the only one I entertain? Mmmnn? Don’t be silly. I have other visitors, other visitors, all the time, I receive all the time. Other afternoons, all the time. When neither of you know, neither of you. I give them strawberries in season. With cream. Strangers, total strangers. But not to me, not while they’re here. They come to see the hollyhocks. And then they stay for tea. Always. Always.
RICHARD Is that so?
He moves towards her, tapping the drum gently.
He faces her, tapping, then grasps her hand and scratches it across the drum.
SARAH What are you doing?
RICHARD Is that what you do?
She jerks away, to behind the table. He moves towards her, tapping.
Like that?
Pause.
What fun.
He scratches the drum sharply and then places it on the chair.
Got a ligh
t?
Pause.
Got a light?
She retreats towards the table, eventually ending behind it.
Come on, don’t be a spoilsport. Your husband won’t mind, if you give me a light. You look a little pale. Why are you so pale? A lovely girl like you.
SARAH Don’t, don’t say that!
RICHARD You’re trapped. We’re alone. I’ve locked up.
SARAH You mustn’t do this, you mustn’t do it, you mustn’t!
RICHARD He won’t mind.
He begins to move slowly closer to the table.
No one else knows.
Pause.
No one else can hear us. No one knows we’re here.
Pause.
Come on. Give us a light.
Pause.
You can’t get out, darling. You’re trapped.
They face each other from opposite ends of the table.
She suddenly giggles.
Silence.
SARAH I’m trapped.
Pause.
What will my husband say?
Pause.
He expects me. He’s waiting. I can’t get out. I’m trapped. You’ve no right to treat a married woman like this. Have you? Think, think, think of what you’re doing.
She looks at him, bends and begins to crawl under the table towards him. She emerges from under the table and kneels at his feet, looking up. Her hand goes up his leg. He is looking down at her.
You’re very forward. You really are. Oh, you really are. But my husband will understand. My husband does understand. Come here. Come down here. I’ll explain. After all, think of my marriage. He adores me. Come here and I’ll whisper to you. I’ll whisper it. It’s whispering time. Isn’t it?
She takes his hands. He sinks to his knees, with her. They are kneeling together, close. She strokes his face.
The Short Plays of Harold Pinter Page 23