I’ll probably call it a day after this canter. Not much more to say. All a bit of a sweat. Why am I taking the trouble? Because of you, I suppose, because you were such a loving son. I’m smiling, as I lie in this glassy grave.
Do you know why I use the word glassy? Because I can see out of it.
Lots of love, son. Keep up the good work.
There’s only one thing bothers me, to be quite frank. While there is, generally, absolute silence everywhere, absolute silence throughout all the hours, I still hear, occasionally, a dog barking. I hear this dog. Oh, it frightens me.
VOICE 1 They have decided on a name for me. They call me Bobo. Good morning, Bobo, they say, or, See you in the morning, Bobo, or, Don’t drop a goolie, Bobo, or, Don’t forget the diver, Bobo, or, Keep your eye on the ball, Bobo, or, Keep this side of the tramlines, Bobo, or, How’s the lead in your pencil, Bobo, or, How’s tricks in the sticks, Bobo, or, Don’t get too much gum in your gumboots, Bobo.
The only person who does not call me Bobo is the old man. He calls me nothing. I call him nothing. I don’t see him. He keeps to his room. I don’t go near it. He is old and will die soon.
VOICE 2 The police are looking for you. You may remember that you are still under twenty-one. They have issued your precise description to all the organs. They will not rest, they assure me, until you are found. I have stated my belief that you are in the hands of underworld figures who are using you as a male prostitute. I have declared in my affidavit that you have never possessed any strength of character whatsoever and that you are palpably susceptible to even the most blatant form of flattery and blandishment. Women were your downfall, even as a nipper. I haven’t forgotten Françoise the French maid or the woman who masqueraded under the title of governess, the infamous Miss Carmichael. You will be found, my boy, and no mercy will be shown to you.
VOICE 1 I’m coming back to you, Mother, to hold you in my arms.
I am coming home.
I am coming also to clasp my father’s shoulder. Where is the old boy? I’m longing to have a word with him. Where is he? I’ve looked in all the usual places, including the old summerhouse, but I can’t find him. Don’t tell me he’s left home at his age? That would be inexpressibly skittish a gesture, on his part. What have you done with him, Mother?
VOICE 2 I’ll tell you what, my darling. I’ve given you up as a very bad job. Tell me one last thing. Do you think the word love means anything?
VOICE 1 I am on my way back to you. I am about to make the journey back to you. What will you say to me?
VOICE 3 I have so much to say to you. But I am quite dead. What I have to say to you will never be said.
A KIND OF ALASKA
A Kind of Alaska first published by
Methuen London Ltd 1982
© Fraser52 Limited, 1982
A Kind of Alaska was inspired by
Awakenings by Oliver Sacks MD,
first published in 1973 by
Gerald Duckworth and Co.
A Kind of Alaska was presented with Victoria Station and Family Voices as part of the triple bill Other Places, first performed at the National Theatre, London, on 14 October 1982 with the following cast:
DEBORAH Judi Dench
HORNBY Paul Rogers
PAULINE Anna Massey
Directed by Peter Hall
It was subsequently presented with Victoria Station and One for the Road at the Duchess Theatre, London, on 7 March 1985 with the following cast:
DEBORAH Dorothy Tutin
HORNBY Colin Blakely
PAULINE Susan Engel
Directed by Kenneth Ives
It was produced by Central Television in December 1984 with the following cast:
DEBORAH Dorothy Tutin
HORNBY Paul Scofield
PAULINE Susan Engel
Directed by Kenneth Ives
Note
In the winter of 1916–17, there spread over Europe, and subsequently over the rest of the world, an extraordinary epidemic illness which presented itself in innumerable forms – as delirium, mania, trances, coma, sleep, insomnia, restlessness, and states of Parkinsonism. It was eventually identified by the great physician Constantin von Economo and named by him encephalitis lethargica, or sleeping sickness.
Over the next ten years almost five million people fell victim to the disease of whom more than a third died. Of the survivors some escaped almost unscathed, but the majority moved into states of deepening illness. The worst affected sank into singular states of ‘sleep’ – conscious of their surroundings but motionless, speech less, and without hope or will, confined to asylums or other institutions.
Fifty years later, with the development of the remarkable drug L-DOPA, they erupted into life once more.
Characters
DEBORAH
HORNBY
PAULINE
A woman in a white bed. Mid-forties. She sits up against high-banked pillows, stares ahead.
A table and two chairs. A window.
A man in a dark suit sits at the table. Early sixties.
The woman’s eyes move. She slowly looks about her.
Her gaze passes over the man and on. He watches her.
She stares ahead, still.
She whispers.
DEBORAH Something is happening.
Silence.
HORNBY Do you recognise me?
Silence.
Do you know me?
Silence.
Can you hear me?
She does not look at him.
DEBORAH Are you speaking?
HORNBY Yes.
Pause.
Do you know who I am?
Pause.
Who am I?
DEBORAH No one hears what I say. No one is listening to me.
Pause.
HORNBY Do you know who I am?
Pause.
Who am I?
DEBORAH You are no one.
Pause.
Who is it? It is miles away. The rain is falling. I will get wet.
Pause.
I can’t get to sleep. The dog keeps turning about. I think he’s dreaming. He wakes me up, but not himself up. He’s my best dog though. I talk French.
Pause.
HORNBY I would like you to listen to me.
Pause.
You have been asleep for a very long time. You have now woken up. We are here to care for you.
Pause.
You have been asleep for a very long time. You are older, although you do not know that. You are still young, but older.
Pause.
DEBORAH Something is happening.
HORNBY You have been asleep. You have awoken. Can you hear me? Do you understand me?
She looks at him for the first time.
DEBORAH Asleep?
Pause.
I do not remember that.
Pause.
People have been looking at me. They have been touching me. I spoke, but I don’t think they heard what I said.
Pause.
What language am I speaking? I speak French, I know that. Is this French?
Pause.
I’ve not seen Daddy today. He’s funny. He makes me laugh. He runs with me. We play with balloons.
Pause.
Where is he?
Pause.
I think it’s my birthday soon.
Pause.
No, no. No, no. I sleep like other people. No more no less. Why should I? If I sleep late my mother wakes me up. There are things to do.
Pause.
If I have been asleep, why hasn’t Mummy woken me up?
HORNBY I have woken you up.
DEBORAH But I don’t know you.
Pause.
Where is everyone? Where is my dog? Where are my sisters? Last night Estelle was wearing my dress. But I said she could.
Pause.
I am cold.
HORNBY How old are you?
DEBORAH I am twelve. No. I am sixteen. I am seven.
Pause.
/> I don’t know. Yes. I know. I am fourteen. I am fifteen. I’m lovely fifteen.
Pause.
You shouldn’t have brought me here. My mother will ask me where I’ve been.
Pause.
You shouldn’t have touched me like that. I shan’t tell my mother. I shouldn’t have touched you like that.
Pause.
Oh Jack.
Pause.
It’s time I was up and about. All those dogs are making such a racket. I suppose Daddy’s feeding them. Is Estelle going to marry that boy from Townley Street? The ginger boy? Pauline says he’s got nothing between his ears. Thick as two planks. I’ve given it a good deal of rather more mature thought and I’ve decided she should not marry him. Tell her not to marry him. She’ll listen to you.
Pause.
Daddy?
HORNBY She didn’t marry him.
DEBORAH Didn’t?
Pause.
It would be a great mistake. It would ruin her life.
HORNBY She didn’t marry him.
Silence.
DEBORAH I’ve seen this room before. What room is this? It’s not my bedroom. My bedroom has blue lilac on the walls. The sheets are soft, pretty. Mummy kisses me.
Pause.
This is not my bedroom.
HORNBY You have been in this room for a long time. You have been asleep. You have now woken up.
DEBORAH You shouldn’t have brought me here. What are you saying? Did I ask you to bring me here? Did I make eyes at you? Did I show desire for you? Did I let you peep up my skirt? Did I flash my teeth? Was I as bold as brass? Perhaps I’ve forgotten.
HORNBY I didn’t bring you here. Your mother and father brought you here.
DEBORAH My father? My mother?
Pause.
Did they bring me to you as a sacrifice? Did they sacrifice me to you?
Pause.
No, no. You stole me … in the night.
Pause.
Have you had your way with me?
HORNBY I am here to take care of you.
DEBORAH They all say that.
Pause.
You’ve had your way with me. You made me touch you. You stripped me. I cried … but … but it was my lust made me cry. You are a devil. My lust was my own. I kept it by me. You took it from me. Once open never closed. Never closed again. Never closed always open. For eternity. Terrible. You have ruined me.
Pause.
I sound childish. Out of … tune.
Pause.
How old am I?
Pause.
Eighteen?
HORNBY No.
DEBORAH Well then, I’ve no idea how old I am. Do you know?
HORNBY Not exactly.
DEBORAH Why not?
Pause.
My sisters would know. We’re very close. We love each other. We’re known as the three bluebells.
Pause.
Why is everything so quiet? So still? I’m in a sandbag. The sea. Is that what I hear? A long way away. Gulls. Haven’t heard a gull for ages. God what a racket. Where’s Pauline? She’s such a mischief. I have to keep telling her not to be so witty. That’s what I say. You’re too witty for your own good. You’re so sharp you’ll cut yourself. You’re too witty for your own tongue. You’ll bite your own tongue off one of these days and I’ll keep your tongue in a closed jar and you’ll never ever ever ever be witty again.
Pause.
She’s all right, really. She just talks too much. Whereas Estelle is as deep as a pond. She’s marvellous at crossing her legs. Sen-su-al.
Pause.
This is a hotel. A hotel near the sea. Hastings? Torquay? There’s more to this than meets the eye. I’m coming to that conclusion. There’s something very shady about you. Pauline always says I’ll end up as part of the White Slave Traffic.
Pause.
Yes. This is a white tent. When I open the flap I’ll step out into the Sahara Desert.
HORNBY You’ve been asleep.
DEBORAH Oh, you keep saying that! What’s wrong with that? Why shouldn’t I have a long sleep for a change? I need it. My body demands it. It’s quite natural. I may have overslept but I didn’t do it deliberately. If I had any choice in the matter I’d much prefer to be up and about. I love the morning. Why do you blame me? I was simply obeying the law of the body.
HORNBY I know that. I’m not blaming you.
DEBORAH Well, how long have I been asleep?
Pause.
HORNBY You have been asleep for twenty-nine years.
Silence.
DEBORAH You mean I’m dead?
HORNBY No.
DEBORAH I don’t feel dead.
HORNBY You’re not.
DEBORAH But you mean I’ve been dead?
HORNBY If you had been dead you wouldn’t be alive now.
DEBORAH Are you sure?
HORNBY No one wakes from the dead.
DEBORAH No, I shouldn’t think so.
Pause.
Well, what was I doing if I wasn’t dead?
HORNBY We don’t know … what you were doing.
DEBORAH We?
Pause.
Where’s my mother? My father? Estelle? Pauline?
HORNBY Pauline is here. She’s waiting to see you.
DEBORAH She shouldn’t be out at this time of night. I’m always telling her. She needs her beauty sleep. Like I do, by the way. But of course I’m her elder sister so she doesn’t listen to me. And Estelle doesn’t listen to me because she’s my elder sister. That’s family life. And Jack? Where’s Jack? Where’s my boyfriend? He’s my boyfriend. He loves me. He loves me. I once saw him cry. For love. Don’t make him cry again. What have you done to him? What have you done with him? What? What? What?
HORNBY Be calm. Don’t agitate yourself.
DEBORAH Agitate myself?
HORNBY There’s no hurry about any of this.
DEBORAH Any of what?
HORNBY Be calm.
DEBORAH I am calm.
Pause.
I’ve obviously committed a criminal offence and am now in prison. I’m quite prepared to face up to the facts. But what offence? I can’t imagine what offence it could be. I mean one that would bring … such a terrible sentence.
HORNBY This is not a prison. You have committed no offence.
DEBORAH But what have I done? What have I been doing? Where have I been?
HORNBY Do you remember nothing of where you’ve been? Do you remember nothing … of all that has happened to you?
DEBORAH Nothing has happened to me. I’ve been nowhere.
Silence.
HORNBY I think we should –
DEBORAH I certainly don’t want to see Pauline. People don’t want to see their sisters. They’re only their sisters. They’re so witty. All I hear is chump chump. The side teeth. Eating everything in sight. Gold chocolate. So greedy eat it with the paper on. Munch all the ratshit on the sideboard. Someone has to polish it off. Been there for years. Statues of excrement. Wrapped in gold. I’ve never got used to it. Sisters are diabolical. Brothers are worse. One day I prayed I would see no one ever again, none of them ever again. All that eating, all that wit.
Pause.
HORNBY I didn’t know you had any brothers.
DEBORAH What?
Pause.
HORNBY Come. Rest. Tomorrow … is another day.
DEBORAH No it isn’t. No it isn’t. It is not!
She smiles.
Yes, of course it is. Of course it is. Tomorrow is another day. I’d love to ask you a question.
HORNBY Are you not tired?
DEBORAH Tired? Not at all. I’m wide awake. Don’t you think so?
HORNBY What is the question?
DEBORAH How did you wake me up?
Pause.
Or did you not wake me up? Did I just wake up myself? All by myself? Or did you wake me with a magic wand?
HORNBY I woke you with an injection.
DEBORAH Lovely injection. Oh how I love it
. And am I beautiful?
HORNBY Certainly.
DEBORAH And you are my Prince Charming. Aren’t you?
Pause.
Oh speak up.
Pause.
Silly shit. All men are alike.
Pause.
I think I love you.
HORNBY No, you don’t.
DEBORAH Well, I’m not spoilt for choice here, am I? There’s not another man in sight. What have you done with all the others? There’s a boy called Peter. We play with his trains, we play… Cowboys and Indians … I’m a tomboy. I knock him about. But that was …
Pause.
But now I’ve got all the world before me. All life before me. All my life before me.
Pause.
I’ve had enough of this. Find Jack. I’ll say yes. We’ll have kids. I’ll bake apples. I’m ready for it. No point in hanging about. Best foot forward. Mummy’s motto. Bit of a cheek, I think, Mummy not coming in to say hullo, to say goodnight, to tuck me up, to sing me a song, to warn me about going too far with boys. Daddy I love but he is a bit absent-minded. Thinking of other things. That’s what Pauline says. She says he has a mistress in Fulham. The bitch. I mean Pauline. And she’s only … thirteen. I keep telling her I’m not prepared to tolerate her risible, her tendentious, her eclectic, her ornate, her rococo insinuations and garbled inventions. I tell her that every day of the week.
The Short Plays of Harold Pinter Page 33