David Hare Plays 3

by David Hare

  Paul is overwhelmed. At last he yells out what he has plainly wanted to say all along.

  Why don’t you give him children, for fuck’s sake?

  Elsa ‘What?

  Paul ‘Well, that’s what he’s saying, for God’s sake.

  Elsa ‘I know that’s what he’s saying.

  Elsa is so surprised at this attack that she stands lost for a response.

  I know that’s what he’s saying!

  Paul ‘Well?

  Elsa ‘Is that what you came to ask? Is that what you’re doing here?

  Paul shrugs, as if it were easy.

  Paul ‘It’s all he wants. Be fair. Give the guy a break.

  Elsa ‘Give him a break?

  Paul ‘Why the hell don’t you give him children?

  Elsa ‘Have you understood nothing? Do you think I don’t want to give this man children?

  Paul ‘How do I know?

  Elsa ‘Do you think I wouldn’t if I could?

  Elsa gestures to the world outside.

  What do you think it’s like, walking across the park, day after day, walking back across the park, keeping my eyes on the ground? Another day, doing my duty at work? Who do you think I am?

  Elsa waits, but Paul says nothing.

  I was human trash.

  Paul ‘I know.

  Elsa ‘I was on the floor of a bar.

  Paul ‘I know. Do you think I don’t know?

  Elsa ‘My knickers ripped in half, my breath stinking of vomit and waiting to be thrown out with the empties.

  Elsa looks at him, her eyes welling up with tears.

  ‘Take my hand,’ he said. ‘Take my hand.’

  Elsa turns away, overwhelmed.

  And since that day he has been steadfast.

  Paul ‘I’m sure.

  Elsa ‘Not one day has gone by in which he has not been resolute. In which he has not been loyal.

  Paul looks down.

  Paul ‘I’m sure.

  Elsa ‘He gives me confidence when I have no confidence myself. When, like you, I know I could within seconds be back in that bar, like you, back in that gutter again …

  There is a silence.

  He’s strong. We’re not. We’re alike, you and I. We’re the same.

  Elsa is suddenly on the verge of tears.

  That’s why I don’t give him children. I don’t have the confidence.

  Paul ‘Elsa.

  Elsa ‘I don’t have the belief.

  Paul is watching her now, taken aback at her sudden vulnerability.

  Why do you think I sat on your desk? Ridiculous.

  Paul ‘No.

  Elsa ‘What am I? Absurd?

  Paul ‘No.

  Elsa ‘Why do you think I laughed with you? Kissed you? And the reason I was drawn to you … the reason I long for you …

  Paul ‘What?

  Elsa can’t speak.

  What?

  Elsa ‘When I see us together …

  Elsa shakes her head, overwhelmed.

  I see us.

  Paul ‘How?

  Elsa ‘We go off to bars and go down together, go down laughing together, spiralling together …

  Paul ‘No!

  Elsa ‘Yes! That’s what I see.

  Impulsively, Elsa moves towards him.

  Tell me I’m wrong.

  Paul ‘Elsa …

  Violently Elsa digs into his pocket. She finds his notebook which she throws away onto the floor.

  That’s my notebook, for God’s sake.

  It’s a messy struggle as Elsa reaches again into the pocket of his mackintosh. There’s a half-emptied half-bottle of scotch in it. She takes it out and holds it out.

  Elsa ‘We’re the same. Where do we find life that isn’t in a bottle?

  Paul moves towards her.

  Paul ‘Give it to me.

  Elsa ‘No.

  Paul ‘Give it back.

  Elsa ‘No.

  Paul ‘Elsa …

  Elsa ‘I won’t.

  Paul ‘I won’t drink it. I’ll pour it away.

  Elsa ‘No.

  Paul ‘I won’t drink. Elsa, if I’m with you, I won’t drink.

  Elsa looks at him, not sure. He has his arm extended out towards her.

  Paul ‘I promise. I make you that promise.

  Paul looks at a pot plant beside him.

  Paul ‘What’s this?

  Elsa ‘It’s a ficus.

  Paul ‘I’ll pour it in the ficus.

  Elsa ‘The ficus will die.

  Paul ‘I’ll take that chance.

  Elsa stands a moment, wavering now.

  Paul ‘I’ll pour it in the ficus and I won’t drink again.

  Elsa hands him the bottle. Paul tosses it unopened aside into the pot-plant. She moves quickly and throws herself into his arms. They kiss, passionately, pulling at each other’s clothes. Paul takes her head in his hands and looks into her eyes.

  He said you were cured.

  Elsa ‘Did he?

  Paul ‘Yes. He said, one gin and tonic. You drank one gin and tonic, he said. You played Scrabble, he said.

  Elsa looks into his eyes a moment.

  Elsa ‘Do I look cured?

  Now it is her turn to take Paul’s head in her hands and to look into his eyes.

  Do I feel cured?

  EIGHT

  Paul moves out of the scene to talk to us. Behind him, the feeling of the stage changes again, Elsa disappearing into the dark.

  Paul ‘What did I think? What did I think at that moment? That I could be solid in the way Victor was solid? Never. I knew I could never replace him. But I felt the power of her and her warmth. The alcohol drained out of me and her warmth filled me. I vanished into her warmth and was consumed.

  Victor appears a long way away, reading a file. He stands, quite still.

  The hour that followed was the happiest of my life.

  NINE

  And now Victor, wearing a new, shinier suit, is advancing towards Paul. His manner is louring, aggressive, as he heads towards Paul at his desk. The evening sun slants across the offices.

  Victor ‘Ah, Paul, there you are. I’d begun to think you were avoiding me. I must have drawn the wrong conclusion.

  Paul ‘I think you did.

  Victor ‘Everyone dies after their last meal but that doesn’t mean they were poisoned.

  Paul ‘Quite.

  Victor gives him a chilly smile.

  Victor ‘You’ve heard of our problems?

  Paul ‘I think everyone has. I’m afraid they’re pretty common knowledge.

  Victor ‘There you are. Capitalism at its most infuriating and obtuse. Re-financing. Private equity. Private equity insisting on a change of management. Making it a condition. What are we? Ping-pong balls? I’ve spent the whole day in the City trying to raise a rival bid. A bid for what? To take over my own business!

  Victor has sat down, shaking his head, putting down the Financial Times in disgust.

  Victor ‘And everyone says it’s normal. It’s accepted as normal. An economy used to make things. Now? A world in which ten people do something and the other ninety speculate. Normal?

  Paul ‘No.

  Victor ‘It’s a game, nothing else. Everything becomes a question of confidence. We don’t say confidence trick. We say confidence creation. Because we lack any wisdom ourselves, we all pretend that the market is wise. It’s a form of camp.

  Paul waits, not knowing what Victor wants.

  Paul ‘Is there something you wanted?

  Victor ‘Why? Should there be?

  Paul ‘No.

  Victor ‘No hierarchy in the cyber-business. A cat may look at a king.

  Paul waits, lost for the purpose of the visit.

  Of course the market gets to me. Of course it does. Why would it not? The humiliation of being judged by people who know nothing. Not for myself. Believe me, I’m not upset for myself.

  Paul ‘No?

  Victor ‘The money I lose is immaterial. If the b
usiness goes belly-up I’m still a rich man.

  Paul ‘Can it go belly-up?

  Victor ‘I have my creature comforts. My house, my wife …

  Paul ‘Yes.

  Victor ‘As you know. As you well know.

  This time Victor looks straight into Paul’s eyes. Paul is becoming more nervous.

  I apologise if we led you astray the other night.

  Paul ‘It’s fine.

  Victor ‘Back on the taste, isn’t that what they say?

  Paul ‘Yes.

  Victor ‘Back on the brew. You tied one on. No, really. I felt guilty.

  Paul ‘No need.

  Victor ‘Have you drunk since?

  Paul ‘Have I …?

  Victor ‘Since that evening? Have you drunk again?

  Paul ‘No. Not a drop.

  Paul is firm. Victor watches.

  Victor ‘Tell me, this is academic, I’m just asking, there’s not a hint of reproach, but do you lie about your drinking?

  Paul ‘Compulsively.

  Victor ‘I see.

  Paul ‘Like all drinkers.

  Victor smiles.

  Victor ‘All the time or just occasionally?

  Paul ‘It’s …

  Victor ‘Though it doesn’t really matter, does it?

  Paul ‘Not much.

  Victor ‘That’s the beauty of lying. You need only do it once to spread infinite distrust.

  Paul says nothing.

  Good for you. You’re right. It’s nobody’s business but your own. Drink yourself to death if you so please.

  Paul ‘Thank you.

  Victor ‘Men fought and died in two world wars for the right of people like us to destroy ourselves.

  Paul ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.

  Victor ‘Wouldn’t you?

  Paul ‘No.

  Victor ‘How would you put it? How do you explain the current passion for addiction? Tell me, Paul, why does it have such allure?

  There is a sharp edge to Victor’s question which makes Paul hesitate, frightened to answer.

  People say lack of faith, don’t they?

  Paul ‘They do.

  Victor ‘But do they know what they mean?

  Paul ‘I’m not sure what it means.

  Victor ‘Me, neither.

  Victor looks at him a moment.

  People say to me, ‘Oh, you’re so lucky because you had faith.’ As if having faith were such a wonderful thing. But Stalin had faith. Hitler had faith.

  Paul ‘That’s right.

  Victor ‘Faith in itself isn’t so wonderful.

  Paul ‘No.

  Victor ‘Regardless.

  Paul ‘Quite.

  Victor ‘Would it be wonderful to believe in the virgin birth? I don’t think so. Or that the trees speak to you? Wouldn’t that just mean you were mad? You’d call it faith, but so what? Faith’s not valuable. Not in itself. It’s what you have faith in that matters.

  Paul ‘Of course.

  Paul looks nervous, not knowing what Victor will say next. Victor is bitter now.

  Victor ‘I had faith. But then it was stolen from me. I was the victim of a robbery. Like millions of others. History came along and clobbered us on the head. No victim-support scheme for us.

  Paul ‘No.

  Victor ‘Just thrown out into the world and told to get on with it. Given a sharp lesson and told we could have no effect. Do I seem ridiculous to you?

  Paul ‘Not at all.

  Victor ‘I have felt ridiculous.

  Victor shrugs slightly.

  What does it mean to say that I was angry? For years. ‘I was angry.’ Why? Because the world was not as I wished it to be. Yes.

  Paul ‘Is it for anyone?

  Victor ‘Of course, it now seems peculiar. What was it? Arrogance? I used to say to myself even then, as I sat stuffing leaflets into envelopes, denouncing iniquity, ‘What is this? What are you doing?’

  Paul ‘Yes.

  Victor ‘I used to ask myself …

  Paul ‘I’m sure.

  Victor ‘Even at the time. Giving my young life. I used to wonder: ‘Things are not as they should be, you say? So the purpose of the world is what? That Victor Quinn should be pleased with how it is arranged?’

  Paul ‘It’s a good question.

  Victor ‘‘Who is Victor Quinn? God?’

  Paul ‘Hardly.

  Victor ‘‘All this rage, all this indignation, what does it mean? What, you feel the world is somehow not meeting your expectation? The obligation of the world being to please Victor Quinn?’

  Victor shakes his head.

  Did I waste those years? Or they did waste me? Or were those the only years I ever lived?

  Victor suddenly lets go.

  What bloody right do these people have to value us?

  Paul ‘None.

  Victor ‘None!

  Paul ‘However.

  Victor looks at Paul.

  Victor ‘I took a shine to you, Paul.

  Paul ‘Yes.

  Victor ‘I took you on because I liked you. But you think that I must live with it, is that what you think?

  Victor holds his gaze, not relenting. Paul doesn’t answer.

  The poet! The philosopher! Bringing the message the philosopher always brings.

  Elsa has appeared at the back of the area. She is windblown, distraught, as if she has not slept.

  Elsa ‘Victor, you’re here.

  Victor ‘Yes.

  Paul ‘Elsa …

  Elsa ‘I was worried. You haven’t been home. I’ve been trying to call you.

  Victor ‘Have you?

  Elsa ‘I’ve been trying to find you.

  Victor ‘What, and you were concerned? Why were you concerned, my darling?

  Paul has got up awkwardly to greet her, alarmed by her appearance. Victor turns back to Paul.

  As you can tell, we had a row. Last night.

  Elsa ‘Yes.

  Victor ‘We had a splendid row. It’s rare. We never row. I stormed into the night. I did a runner.

  Elsa ‘Victor, we’re meant to be going to a concert.

  Victor ‘Of course. When?

  Elsa ‘Now.

  Victor ‘Would Mozart match your mood right now? I’m not sure he would match mine. All that life-affirming can seem awfully jangly when it hits you at the wrong angle.

  Elsa ‘What are you saying? You don’t want to go?

  Victor ‘Go with Paul. Take Paul. Affirm life with Paul.

  Paul hesitates a moment.

  Paul ‘I can’t. I have to go to a meeting.

  Victor stands looking out the window, as if he had known this would be Paul’s answer. The light outside is lemony and fading.

  Victor ‘Summer’s end, you see. Always a moment of calm. The slight change in the air. Oh it’s still August. The sun beats down. But touched with the knowledge of what is to come.

  Elsa shifts, impatient with his mood.

  Elsa ‘This is all to do with work.

  Victor ‘You think so?

  Elsa ‘Of course. You may lose your business. You may be about to lose your business. Of course you’re depressed.

  Victor turns, his face blank. Then impulsively he heads for the door.

  Victor …

  Victor ‘I’m going to have a drink. Come and join me, please.

  Paul ‘I’ve made a new vow.

  Victor ‘Have you? And will this one last? Aren’t we patterned? Aren’t we programmed? Don’t we always promise, ‘Tomorrow I’ll stop. Tomorrow I’ll be good’?

  Paul looks at him, not answering.

  It’s the disease of more, isn’t that what they say?

  Victor looks at him a moment, then gets up and goes out abruptly, in silence. Paul goes to his desk and starts quickly gathering his stuff together. Elsa watches, panicked.

  Elsa ‘What are you doing?

  Paul ‘I’m going. I’m leaving my job and I’m going.

  Elsa ‘Paul …

  Paul
‘I have to. I have to get out.

  Elsa ‘Why?

  Paul stops for a moment and looks at Elsa, as if the answer were obvious. Then resumes packing.

  Paul ‘It’s not hard to say, is it? It’s not hard to see why.

  Paul gestures in Victor’s direction.

  Look at him, for God’s sake. Just look at him. Look at his mood. What do you think it’s about?

  Elsa ‘I know what it’s about. It’s not to do with you.

  Paul ‘Last night you quarrelled. You think that’s coincidence? You think that’s just chance?

  Paul resumes throwing his possessions together. Elsa is serious now.

  Elsa ‘What are you saying?

  Paul ‘It’s not love.

  Elsa ‘Isn’t it?

  Paul ‘No.

  Elsa ‘I thought it was love.

  Paul ‘No. It’s addiction. We’re addicted to trouble. We both love trouble.

  Elsa moves towards him, lowering her voice for fear of Victor’s return.

  Elsa ‘Paul, I was happy with you.

  Paul ‘I know.

  Elsa ‘For those hours, I was happy with you.

  Paul ‘Elsa. I’m happy drinking. So?

  Elsa ‘No!

  Paul ‘Yes! I’m happy with a drink in my hand. Tell me: what’s the difference?

  Elsa is shaking her head.

  Elsa ‘You think I live that kind of life?

  Paul ‘No.

  Elsa ‘What do you think? You think I want affairs?

  Paul ‘No.

  Elsa ‘Is that how you see me?

  Paul looks at her, the answer self-evident.

  Then don’t run out on me.

  Paul ‘Elsa …

  Paul shakes his head, helpless now, as if he could do nothing.

  Elsa ‘You haven’t thought. You haven’t thought what you’re doing. This is who you are. This is you, Paul. You’re the person who runs. You think it’s to do with alcohol? It’s not. Don’t you see? It’s to do with who you are. Given the slightest reason. Given the slightest excuse.

  Elsa looks at him, pleading.

  You have a friend in trouble. His business is in trouble. You’re the first friend he’s made in years.

  Paul ‘Am I?

  Elsa ‘Don’t run.

  Paul ‘You barely know me, Elsa. You barely had time to know me.

  Elsa ‘You’re scared. You’re just scared. You’re scared because you’re in love. You’re more in love than ever.