The Short Plays of Harold Pinter

by The Short Plays of Harold Pinter (retail) (epub)

  Pause.

  I heard the car. He saw me and stopped me. I stayed still. Then the car moved again, came towards me slowly. I moved round the front of it, in the dust. I couldn’t see him for the sun, but he was watching me. When I got to the door it was locked. I looked through at him. He leaned over and opened the door. I got in and sat beside him. He smiled at me. Then he reversed, all in one movement, very quickly, quite straight, up the lane to the crossroads, and we drove to the sea.

  Pause

  DUFF We’re the envy of a lot of people, you know, living in this house, having this house all to ourselves. It’s too big for two people.

  BETH He said he knew a very desolate beach, that no one else in the world knew, and that’s where we are going.

  DUFF I was very gentle to you. I was kind to you, that day. I knew you’d had a shock, so I was gentle with you. I held your arm on the way back from the pond. You put your hands on my face and kissed me.

  BETH All the food I had in my bag I had cooked myself, or prepared myself. I had baked the bread myself.

  DUFF The girl herself I considered unimportant. I didn’t think it necessary to go into details. I decided against it.

  BETH The windows were open but we kept the hood up.

  Pause.

  DUFF Mr Sykes gave a little dinner party that Friday. He complimented you on your cooking and the service.

  Pause.

  Two women. That was all. Never seen them before. Probably his mother and sister.

  Pause.

  They wanted coffee late. I was in bed. I fell asleep. I would have come down to the kitchen to give you a hand but I was too tired.

  Pause.

  But I woke up when you got into bed. You were out on your feet. You were asleep as soon as you hit the pillow. Your body … just fell back.

  BETH He was right. It was desolate. There wasn’t a soul on the beach.

  Silence.

  DUFF I had a look over the house the other day. I meant to tell you. The dust is bad. We’ll have to polish it up.

  Pause.

  We could go up to the drawing room, open the windows. I could wash the old decanters. We could have a drink up there one evening, if it’s a pleasant evening.

  Pause.

  I think there’s moths. I moved the curtain and they flew out.

  Pause.

  BETH Of course when I’m older I won’t be the same as I am, I won’t be what I am, my skirts, my long legs, I’ll be older, I won’t be the same.

  DUFF At least now … at least now, I can walk down to the pub in peace and up to the pond in peace, with no one to nag the shit out of me.

  Silence.

  BETH All it is, you see … I said … is the lightness of your touch, the lightness of your look, my neck, your eyes, the silence, that is my meaning, the loveliness of my flowers, my hands touching my flowers, that is my meaning.

  Pause.

  I’ve watched other people. I’ve seen them.

  Pause.

  All the cars zooming by. Men with girls at their sides. Bouncing up and down. They’re dolls. They squeak.

  Pause.

  All the people were squeaking in the hotel bar. The girls had long hair. They were smiling.

  DUFF That’s what matters, anyway. We’re together. That’s what matters.

  Silence.

  BETH But I was up early. There was still plenty to be done and cleared up. I had put the plates in the sink to soak. They had soaked overnight. They were easy to wash. The dog was up. He followed me. Misty morning. Comes from the river.

  DUFF This fellow knew bugger all about beer. He didn’t know I’d been trained as a cellarman. That’s why I could speak with authority.

  BETH I opened the door and went out. There was no one about. The sun was shining. Wet, I mean wetness, all over the ground.

  DUFF A cellarman is the man responsible. He’s the earliest up in the morning. Give the drayman a hand with the barrels. Down the slide through the cellarflaps. Lower them by rope to the racks. Rock them on the belly, put a rim up them, use balance and leverage, hike them up on to the racks.

  BETH Still misty, but thinner, thinning.

  DUFF The bung is on the vertical, in the bunghole. Spile the bung. Hammer the spile through the centre of the bung. That lets the air through the bung, down the bunghole, lets the beer breathe.

  BETH Wetness all over the air. Sunny. Trees like feathers.

  DUFF Then you hammer the tap in.

  BETH I wore my blue dress.

  DUFF Let it stand for three days. Keep wet sacks over the barrels. Hose the cellar floor daily. Hose the barrels daily.

  BETH It was a beautiful autumn morning.

  DUFF Run water through the pipes to the bar pumps daily.

  BETH I stood in the mist.

  DUFF Pull off. Pull off. Stop pulling just before you get to the dregs. The dregs’ll give you the shits. You’ve got an ullage barrel. Feed the slops back to the ullage barrel, send them back to the brewery.

  BETH In the sun.

  DUFF Dip the barrels daily with a brass rod. Know your gallonage. Chalk it up. Then you’re tidy. Then you never get caught short.

  BETH Then I went back to the kitchen and sat down.

  Pause.

  DUFF This chap in the pub said he was surprised to hear it. He said he was surprised to hear about hosing the cellar floor. He said he thought most cellars had a thermostatically controlled cooling system. He said he thought keg beer was fed with oxygen through a cylinder. I said I wasn’t talking about keg beer, I was talking about normal draught beer. He said he thought they piped the beer from a tanker into metal containers. I said they may do, but he wasn’t talking about the quality of beer I was. He accepted that point.

  Pause

  BETH The dog sat down by me. I stroked him. Through the window I could see down into the valley. I saw children in the valley. They were running through the grass. They ran up the hill.

  Long silence.

  DUFF I never saw your face. You were standing by the windows. One of those black nights. A downfall. All I could hear was the rain on the glass, smacking on the glass. You knew I’d come in but you didn’t move. I stood close to you. What were you looking at? It was black outside. I could just see your shape in the window, your reflection. There must have been some kind of light somewhere. Perhaps just your face reflected, lighter than all the rest. I stood close to you. Perhaps you were just thinking, in a dream. Without touching you, I could feel your bottom.

  Silence.

  BETH I remembered always, in drawing, the basic principles of shadow and light. Objects intercepting the light cast shadows. Shadow is deprivation of light. The shape of the shadow is determined by that of the object. But not always. Not always directly. Sometimes it is only indirectly affected by it. Some times the cause of the shadow cannot be found.

  Pause.

  But I always bore in mind the basic principles of drawing.

  Pause.

  So that I never lost track. Or heart.

  Pause

  DUFF You used to wear a chain round your waist. On the chain you carried your keys, your thimble, your notebook, your pencil, your scissors.

  Pause.

  You stood in the hall and banged the gong.

  Pause.

  What the bloody hell are you doing banging that bloody gong?

  Pause.

  It’s bullshit. Standing in an empty hall banging a bloody gong. There’s no one to listen. No one’ll hear. There’s not a soul in the house. Except me. There’s nothing for lunch. There’s nothing cooked. No stew. No pie. No greens. No joint. Fuck all.

  Pause

  BETH So that I never lost track. Even though, even when, I asked him to turn, to look at me, but he turned to look at me but I couldn’t see his look.

  Pause.

  I couldn’t see whether he was looking at me.

  Pause.

  Although he had turned. And appeared to be looking at me.

  DUFF I
took the chain off and the thimble, the keys, the scissors slid off it and clattered down. I booted the gong down the hall. The dog came in. I thought you would come to me, I thought you would come into my arms and kiss me, even … offer yourself to me. I would have had you in front of the dog, like a man, in the hall, on the stone, banging the gong, mind you don’t get the scissors up your arse, or the thimble, don’t worry, I’ll throw them for the dog to chase, the thimble will keep the dog happy, he’ll play with it with his paws, you’ll plead with me like a woman, I’ll bang the gong on the floor, if the sound is too flat, lacks resonance, I’ll hang it back on its hook, bang you against it swinging, gonging, waking the place up, calling them all for dinner, lunch is up, bring out the bacon, bang your lovely head, mind the dog doesn’t swallow the thimble, slam –

  Silence.

  BETH He lay above me and looked down at me. He supported my shoulder.

  Pause.

  So tender his touch on my neck. So softly his kiss on my cheek.

  Pause.

  My hand on his rib.

  Pause.

  So sweetly the sand over me. Tiny the sand on my skin.

  Pause.

  So silent the sky in my eyes. Gently the sound of the tide.

  Pause.

  Oh my true love I said.

  SILENCE

  Silence first published with Landscape and Night

  by Methuen & Co. 1969

  © FPinter Limited, 1969

  Silence was first presented by the Royal Shakespeare Company at the Aldwych Theatre, London, on 2 July 1969, with the fol lowing cast:

  ELLEN Frances Cuka

  RUMSEY Anthony Bate

  BATES Norman Rodway

  Directed by Peter Hall

  Characters

  ELLEN

  a girl in her twenties

  RUMSEY

  a man of forty

  BATES

  a man in his middle thirties

  Three areas.

  A chair in each area.

  RUMSEY I walk with my girl who wears a grey blouse when she walks and grey shoes and walks with me readily wearing her clothes considered for me. Her grey clothes.

  She holds my arm.

  On good evenings we walk through the hills to the top of the hill past the dogs the clouds racing just before dark or as dark is falling when the moon

  When it’s chilly I stop her and slip her raincoat over her shoulders or rainy slip arms into the arms, she twisting her arms. And talk to her and tell her everything.

  She dresses for my eyes.

  I tell her my thoughts. Now I am ready to walk, her arm in me her hand in me.

  I tell her my life’s thoughts, clouds racing. She looks up at me or listens looking down. She stops in mid-sentence, my sentence, to look up at me. Sometimes her hand has slipped from mine, her arm loosened, she walks slightly apart, dog barks.

  ELLEN There are two. One who is with me sometimes, and another. He listens to me. I tell him what I know. We walk by the dogs.

  Sometimes the wind is so high he does not hear me. I lead him to a tree, clasp closely to him and whisper to him, wind going, dogs stop, and he hears me.

  But the other hears me.

  BATES Caught a bus to the town. Crowds. Lights round the market, rain and stinking. Showed her the bumping lights. Took her down around the dumps. Black roads and girders. She clutching me. This way the way I bring you. Pubs throw the doors smack into the night. Cars barking and the lights. She with me, clutching.

  Brought her into this place, my cousin runs it. Undressed her, placed my hand.

  ELLEN I go by myself with the milk to the top, the clouds racing, all the blue changes, I’m dizzy sometimes, meet with him under some place.

  One time visited his house. He put a light on, it reflected the window, it reflected in the window.

  RUMSEY She walks from the door to the window to see the way she has come, to confirm that the house which grew nearer is the same one she stands in, that the path and the bushes are the same, that the gate is the same. When I stand beside her and smile at her, she looks at me and smiles.

  BATES How many times standing clenched in the pissing dark waiting?

  The mud, the cows, the river.

  You cross the field out of darkness. You arrive.

  You stand breathing before me. You smile.

  I put my hands on your shoulders and press. Press the smile off your face.

  ELLEN There are two. I turn to them and speak. I look them in their eyes. I kiss them there and say, I look away to smile, and touch them as I turn.

  Silence.

  RUMSEY I watch the clouds. Pleasant the ribs and tendons of cloud.

  I’ve lost nothing.

  Pleasant alone and watch the folding light. My animals are quiet. My heart never bangs. I read in the evenings. There is no one to tell me what is expected or not expected of me. There is nothing required of me.

  BATES I’m at my last gasp with this unendurable racket. I kicked open the door and stood before them. Someone called me Grandad and told me to button it. It’s they should button it. Were I young …

  One of them told me I was lucky to be alive, that I would have to bear it in order to pay for being alive, in order to give thanks for being alive.

  It’s a question of sleep. I need something of it, or how can I remain alive, without any true rest, having no solace, no constant solace, not even any damn inconstant solace.

  I am strong, but not as strong as the bastards in the other room, and their tittering bitches, and their music, and their love.

  If I changed my life, perhaps, and lived deliberately at night, and slept in the day. But what exactly would I do? What can be meant by living in the dark?

  ELLEN Now and again I meet my drinking companion and have a drink with her. She is a friendly woman, quite elderly, quite friendly. But she knows little of me, she could never know much of me, not really, not now. She’s funny. She starts talking sexily to me, in the corner, with our drinks. I laugh.

  She asks me about my early life, when I was young, never departing from her chosen subject, but I have nothing to tell her about the sexual part of my youth. I’m old, I tell her, my youth was somewhere else, anyway I don’t remember. She does the talking anyway.

  I like to get back to my room. It has a pleasant view. I have one or two friends, ladies. They ask me where I come from. I say of course from the country. I don’t see much of them.

  I sometimes wonder if I think. I heard somewhere about how many thoughts go through the brain of a person. But I couldn’t remember anything I’d actually thought, for some time.

  It isn’t something that anyone could ever tell me, could ever reassure me about, nobody could tell, from looking at me, what was happening.

  But I’m still quite pretty really, quite nice eyes, nice skin.

  BATES moves to ELLEN.

  BATES Will we meet tonight?

  ELLEN I don’t know.

  Pause.

  BATES Come with me tonight.

  ELLEN Where?

  BATES Anywhere. For a walk.

  Pause.

  ELLEN I don’t want to walk.

  BATES Why not?

  Pause.

  ELLEN I want to go somewhere else

  Pause.

  BATES Where?

  ELLEN I don’t know.

  Pause.

  BATES What’s wrong with a walk?

  ELLEN I don’t want to walk.

  Pause.

  BATES What do you want to do?

  ELLEN I don’t know.

  Pause.

  BATES Do you want to go anywhere else?

  ELLEN Yes.

  BATES Where?

  ELLEN I don’t know.

  Pause.

  BATES Do you want me to buy you a drink?

  ELLEN No.

  Pause.

  BATES Come for a walk.

  ELLEN No.

  Pause.

  BATES All right. I’ll take you on a bus to the
town. I know a place. My cousin runs it.

  ELLEN No.

  Silence.

  RUMSEY It is curiously hot. Sitting weather, I call it. The weather sits, does not move. Unusual. I shall walk down to my horse and see how my horse is. He’ll come towards me.

  Perhaps he doesn’t need me. My visit, my care, will be like any other visit, any other care. I can’t believe it.

  BATES I walk in my mind. But can’t get out of the walls, into a wind.

  Meadows are walled, and lakes. The sky’s a wall.

  Once I had a little girl. I took it for walks. I held it by its hand. It looked up at me and said, I see something in a tree, a shape, a shadow. It is leaning down. It is looking at us.

  Maybe it’s a bird, I said, a big bird, resting. Birds grow tired, after they’ve flown over the country, up and down in the wind, looking down on all the sights, so sometimes, when they reach a tree, with good solid branches, they rest.

  Silence.

  ELLEN When I run … when I run … when I run … over the grass

  RUMSEY She floats … under me. Floating … under me.

  ELLEN I turn. I turn. I wheel. I glide. I wheel. In stunning light. The horizon moves from the sun. I am crushed by the light.

  Silence.

  RUMSEY Sometimes I see people. They walk towards me, no, not so, walk in my direction, but never reaching me, turning left, or disappearing, and then reappearing, to disappear into the wood.