Jez Butterworth Plays

by Jez Butterworth

  MICKEY. Yes.

  BABY. Help him down Mickey. Help Johnny down.

  MICKEY ungags SILVER JOHNNY. He lets out a note. A moan. Lost.

  BABY. It’s all right John.

  MICKEY helps him down. He unties him.

  MICKEY. Are you all right?

  SILVER JOHNNY. Fuck you. Fuck you Mickey.

  SILVER JOHNNY runs upstairs.

  BABY. Let him go. (Pause.) Fancy. You’re sitting there with the telly on and your supper and all then all that. Eh? He was in remarkably good shape after. Even tipped the cab driver. That’s the young eh? They really bounce back, don’t they.

  MICKEY. I’m going to talk now and tell me to shut up if I’m saying the wrong thing –

  BABY. Shut up Mickey. Please. (Pause.) Will you tell me something Mickey? Were you actually in the room when they cut him in half?

  Pause. MICKEY shakes his head.

  You wasn’t?

  MICKEY. No.

  BABY. Where was you?

  MICKEY. I’d gone by then. I was back home.

  BABY. Back home?

  MICKEY. Yes. They said wait. (Pause.) They said if I went home I’d get... we’d get the club. We could keep the club.

  BABY. We?

  MICKEY. That I could keep the club.

  BABY. Did you go to them?

  Pause.

  MICKEY. Baby, this is a new time for both of us –

  BABY. A new time. A new time. (Pause.) I like that Mickey. You have a very pleasant way with words.

  MICKEY. Are you sure he’s dead?

  BABY. Who?

  MICKEY. Mr Ross. Because if he isn’t...

  BABY. Mickey, he’s got his yellow hair parted right down between his eyes. And it’s a hell of a schlep. And I think if he is coming he’s going to need a jolly good lie-down first.

  MICKEY. Baby, I don’t know what to do.

  BABY (copying). Baby I don’t know what to do.

  MICKEY. I don’t know what to do.

  BABY. I don’t know what to do.

  MICKEY. Baby I’m sorry.

  Pause. BABY approaches MICKEY.

  BABY. Sometimes when I wake up I feel totally not there. I feel completely numb. And I think, ‘Come on. Come alive. Feel it. Like you used to.’ But I’m numb. I lie there, and my mind spins on nothing. I hear people next door, in the next one along, fighting or laughing and I can’t feel their... pain or nothing.

  Pause.

  Woke up this afternoon, I just knew it was going to be one of those days. Beautiful, sunny, but one you’re just not there for. Sorry Mickey. I just can’t feel your pain.

  Enter SWEETS and POTTS.

  SWEETS. Mickey?

  BABY. All right Sweets?

  SWEETS. Mickey, we’ve got a problem.

  BABY. What’s that then?

  SWEETS. Something’s happened.

  MICKEY (quietly). I’m dead. I’m dead.

  BABY. What’s the problem then?

  SWEETS. Well, Silver Johnny said Mickey was round Mr Ross’s Saturday night.

  MICKEY. I’m sorry.

  POTTS. Mickey, what have you done? It was you. It was you, you cunt. This whole thing. Fucking head cold. You cunt.

  SWEETS. It’s not true is it Mickey? It’s because he’s been hanging upside down so long.

  BABY. They’re really rocking in Boston...

  Enter SKINNY.

  SKINNY. Relax. It’s bullcrap. I know it’s bullcrap.

  SWEETS. I told you.

  POTTS. How?

  SKINNY. Little cunt’s twiced us all wants to blame someone else. It’s bullcrap.

  SWEETS. What happened Mickey?

  SKINNY. Mickey’s done nothing. Bastard’s been hanging upside down for two hours he’s gone back to front. And I’ll prove it. I’ll prove it. Because Mickey was at home and then he came here. He was ill. He was ill then he came here. Anyone listens to some little fuck ditched us all in the lurch is a sissy. I believe Mickey. (To BABY.) Shut your fucking mouth, Jew. You don’t belong here. You’ve got no place here. None of us want you. You’re nasty and you lie. We’ve all had enough. Take your lies somewhere else.

  BABY walks across the room with the Derringer, puts it to SKINNY’s head and fires once.

  Oww. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What did you do that for?

  Blood pours from the side of SKINNY’s head.

  What did you do that for? What did you do that for?

  POTTS. Skinny...

  SWEETS. Skinny...

  SKINNY. I’m shot in the head. I’ve been shot in the head...

  POTTS. It’s only the Derringer...

  SWEETS. Help him.

  POTTS. It’s only the Derringer.

  SKINNY. I’ve been shot in the head. Right in the fucking head.

  POTTS. It’s only the Derringer.

  SKINNY. What do you mean it’s only the Derringer? I’m shot. Look at all this blood.

  POTTS. Help him. Call a doctor.

  SWEETS. We can’t. We can’t.

  SKINNY. Call a doctor. I might die.

  SWEETS. It’s only the... It’s only a little hole.

  SKINNY. What did you do that for?

  SWEETS. You’ll be all right. You’ll be all right.

  SKINNY. I wasn’t doing anything. I wasn’t doing anything. I was only trying to help. You twat. You didn’t have to... Look. Look at all this blood. Look at all this fucking blood.

  SWEETS. We’ve got to get a doctor.

  MICKEY. Skinny sit down.

  SWEETS. Sit down.

  SKINNY. Look. I’ve got... I’ve fucked up my new trousers. I’ve got blood on my new trousers.

  MICKEY. Try to relax. Get a towel.

  SWEETS. Sid take your shirt off.

  SKINNY. Fucking great. Fucking great. What if I die. What if I die eh? Did you think of that? What if I die. How much blood do you have to lose before you die?

  POTTS. You’ve got to lose pints of the stuff. You’ll be fine.

  SKINNY. Look, I’ve lost, look. Mickey. That’s about a pint right there. Have I got any on my back?

  POTTS. Your back’s fine. Your back’s fine.

  SKINNY. My teeth have all gone loose. Look. Feel. He’s unshipped all my fucking teeth.

  MICKEY. Sit down. You’re all right.

  SKINNY. Feel. My teeth have gone wiggly. How much blood have I lost.

  POTTS. Hardly any. Sit down.

  SKINNY. I’ve already lost at least two pints. How much do you have to lose Mickey. How much do you have to lose Mickey. Mickey? How much blood do you have to lose before that’s it?

  SKINNY dies. POTTS has just taken his shirt off.

  POTTS. Skinny...

  Pause.

  SWEETS. Is he all right? Skinny.

  POTTS. I don’t know.

  SWEETS. Skinny. Sid, I think he’s gone.

  POTTS. Baby, I think he’s gone.

  MICKEY falls to his knees to his knees next to SKINNY’s body.

  MICKEY. No. No. No! No! No! No!!!

  SWEETS. Skinny? Skinny?

  MICKEY. Skinny!!!

  POTTS. Is he breathing.

  MICKEY. No. No. No...

  SWEETS. He might still be alive. Is he breathing?

  POTTS. He’s stopped.

  SWEETS. He might still be...

  SILVER JOHNNY appears on the stairs.

  SWEETS. Skinny. For fuck’s sake Skinny...

  POTTS. Try to keep him warm.

  SWEETS. I think he’s gone.

  Pause.

  MICKEY. No. No. No. No. No.

  Pause.

  I’m sorry. I’m sorry Luke. I’m sorry. I’m really really...

  Pause. MICKEY is hunched over SKINNY’s body. POTTS stands above them. He kicks MICKEY in the stomach.

  POTTS. Let’s get out of here.

  SWEETS. Mickey. I thought you loved us. I thought you were my friend.

  Exit SWEETS and POTTS. Pause. BABY walks over to the desk and sits down. SILVER JOHNNY comes down the stairs. MICKEY lies on th
e floor, panting. BABY watches him. SILVER JOHNNY comes into the middle of the room. He watches BABY.

  BABY. Are you all right?

  SILVER JOHNNY. Yes. Yes I am.

  BABY. You sure? (Pause.) Are you dizzy?

  SILVER JOHNNY. No. I’m fine.

  BABY. That’s good.

  SILVER JOHNNY. I opened the windows.

  BABY. I can smell the dawn. Good. Is the sun out?

  SILVER JOHNNY. It’s getting hot. Out in the street. There’s people.

  BABY. Good. Good. (Pause.) That’s good. Do you want to go out there.

  SILVER JOHNNY. What?

  BABY. Out in the street. Get a nice cool drink. Walk around. It’s lovely out this time. It’s my favourite time of the day. Before anything happens.

  SILVER JOHNNY. Okay.

  BABY. Good. Good. Let’s do that.

  BABY slips out of the silver jacket and leaves it on the floor. Exit BABY and SILVER JOHNNY into the light. MICKEY lies on the floor. Music.

  The End.

  THE NIGHT HERON

  For John Butterworth

  1924–99

  The Night Heron was first presented at the Royal Court Theatre Downstairs, London, on 11 April 2002, with the following cast:

  JESS WATTMORE

  Karl Johnson

  GRIFFIN

  Ray Winstone

  BOLLA FOGG

  Jessica Stevenson

  NEDDY BEAGLE

  Roger Morlidge

  ROYCE

  Paul Ritter

  DOUGAL

  Geoffrey Church

  BOY (JONATHAN)

  Finlay Robertson

  Director

  Ian Rickson

  Designer

  Ultz

  Lighting Designer

  Mick Hughes

  Sound Designer

  Paul Arditti

  Composer

  Stephen Warbeck

  Characters

  JESS WATTMORE

  GRIFFIN

  BOLL A FOGG, a woman

  NEDDY BEAGLE

  ROYCE

  DOUGAL

  BOY (JONATHAN), a student

  A BIRDWATCHER

  SON of the birdwatcher

  The play is set in the Cambridgeshire fens, in the New Year, over a few short, freezing days

  One

  Darkness. Local fenland radio. A farm auction. A church fête. Rising seas. A poetry competition for short verse, organised by Cambridge University. The first prize is £2,000. The closing date is in two weeks. Wind. Gull and tern cry out. A man’s VOICE on a tape.

  VOICE. And the Lord God planted a garden eastward in Eden. And out of the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil.

  A penny whistle plays.

  A cabin, built from ship timber a hundred years ago. Strip plastic hangs in a doorway downstage right. A door upstage left, to an offstage lean-to bedroom. Dominating the cabin is a giant frieze depicting Christ and the Saints. Photocopied onto many sheets of paper, it is pinned together with drawing pins.

  A coal-burning stove. Church pews for chairs. A tallboy. On a table, a large, silver ghetto blaster.

  And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the Garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, saying: Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat. But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.

  Sudden banging, off. Shouts. Barking. The shatter of glass. It fades. The voice continues on the tape. Enter WATTMORE. He appears from the back room in housecoat and striped pyjamas. He has been beaten. He drinks from the galley tap, and spits and coughs, as if coughing teeth and blood. The tape continues. He lights a lantern, then sits at the table, and presses play and record. He speaks low, from memory.

  WATTMORE. And the Lord said unto Adam: Because thou hast hearkened unto the voice of thy wife, and hast eaten of the tree, of which I commanded thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat of it: cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life; in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.

  He removes a penny whistle from his housecoat pocket and plays a short refrain.

  And the Lord God sent him forth from the Garden of Eden, to till the ground from whence he was taken. So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep... to keep... to keep the way of the tree of life.

  Refrain.

  He presses stop. It starts to rain. He turns the radio on – Gardeners’ Question Time – and starts rooting through the tallboy drawers. He finds what he is looking for: a rope. The rain falls harder as he pulls up a chair in the centre of the cabin. He stands on it. He slings the rope over a low beam. He ties it around his neck, and stands there, sweating, willing himself to take the step. Offstage, a lock turns. Someone taking his boots off in the porch.

  VOICE (off). Wattmore! There’s a competition. For poetry at the university. It’s open to all-comers. There’s a prize. (Stops.) Dear oh dear. Dear oh dear oh dear. Wattmore? There’s broken glass out here. Someone’s had an accident. Dear oh dear oh dear.

  WATTMORE takes his neck out of the noose, and gets off the stool. He just manages to throw his housecoat over the ghetto blaster, before GRIFFIN enters, soaking, with two bags of chips.

  GRIFFIN. I say there’s glass all over. The porch is knackered. Why don’t you put the clicker on after you? The wind can’t get round it, whip it open smash it to buggery. It’s freezing in here Wattmore. It’s colder than a witch’s tit.

  He takes off his hat.

  Let’s see. That’s ten pound for the pane, never you mind about labour. Congratulations. That’s twenty, thirty pound, down the sink.

  GRIFFIN makes straight for the stove and opens it, working the flame.

  There’s nothing out there. Right up the church back to the road, nothing. Not one. I thought I had one, in the reed beds, I’ve got the torch on him. But he’s twiced me. So I thought stuff this. Went into town got chips.

  He drops a portion on the table in front of WATTMORE, switches off the wireless, takes his coat off, sits down, closes his eyes. A whisper:

  For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful. For Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.

  Eats.

  Bugle’s still on about that bird. It’s front-page news. They’re offering a hundred pound for a photograph. A hundred pound. I thought I saw him, though. Thought I had him, in the reed beds. He’s soared right over, low mind, low enough to touch. But it weren’t him. It was a seagull. Or a crow.

  Eats.

  There’s a story in the Bugle too, one of them, the newcomers, birdwatcher it was, he’s out last night on the marsh, he’s lost the path. He’s fallen in a suckpit, he’s kicked and kicked and it’s dragged him under. He’d be dead, but he was with another had a mobile phone. He’s in the hospital. Honestly, if that bird knew half the trouble he’s causing.

  Eats.

  Did I say? There’s a competition. You write a poem, and if you win they give you a prize. Wait for it. It’s two thousand pound. Two thousand pound for one poem. Open to all-comers. What do you think to that eh? What do you think to that?

  WATTMORE. He came here.

  GRIFFIN. What? Who? Who came here?

  Beat.

  When?

  WATTMORE. He was banging. And swearing. He smashed the porch.

  Beat.

  GRIFFIN. Swearing?

  WATTMORE. Shouting. Shouting and swearing. He had a hound.

  GRIFFIN. Right. See that’s not him. Barking you say? See that’s not him. See he doesn’t have a hound. He doesn’t keep one. Point of fact he can’t stand ’em.

&
nbsp; WATTMORE. How do you know?

  GRIFFIN. Because.

  WATTMORE. Because what?

  GRIFFIN. Just Because.

  WATTMORE. Because what?

  GRIFFIN. Because he killed Black Bob’s dogs.

  Beat.

  When Black Bob owed him that fifty pound.

  WATTMORE. What?

  GRIFFIN. The long version, see, if you want it, Black Bob’s bitch has just had a litter and Black Bob’s in the garden at The Plough selling the pups. He wants two pound a pup see. Anyway he starts drinking starts betting Floyd at boules. Now Floyd’s bloody good at boules. Ten minutes Black Bob’s into Floyd for twenty-five puppies. He’s only got six. Floyd spends all week asking Black Bob for the twenty-five pups or the fifty pound, doesn’t mind which. Black Bob starts avoiding him, starts drinking in The Earl of Great Gloucester. So Floyd goes over The Earl of Great Gloucester asks Black Bob for the fifty pound. Black Bob fobs him off starts staying in renting videos. Floyd goes round Black Bob’s house asks Black Bob’s wife for the fifty pound. She says Black Bob’s in the bath. In the end Floyd gets hacked off. So he poisoned his puppies.

  WATTMORE. Floyd poisoned Black Bob’s dogs?

  GRIFFIN. Yes. No. He poisoned the puppies. He beat the bitch stone dead with a cricket bat.

  Beat.

  So.

  WATTMORE. So what?

  GRIFFIN. So it’s safe to assume that Floyd’s no great dog lover. You heard barking. Ergo, it’s not him. Be kids. Be kids, or the wind.

  WATTMORE. It weren’t the wind.

  GRIFFIN. Be kids then. Shouting and barking. Kids love shouting. And kids love dogs. And dogs love barking. How’s your chips?

  WATTMORE. Where’ve you been?

  GRIFFIN. I’ve been out on the marsh.

  WATTMORE. You’ve been out all day. Where’ve you been?

  GRIFFIN. Well let’s see. I went over Fen Drayton say Happy New Year to Royce. Prat’s still got his Christmas tree up. Then I flagged down the mobile library, on Over Road. And they had a poster up on the door. Two thousand pound it said for one poem. So I cycled over Cambridge. And it’s true. It’s on all the boards.

  WATTMORE. You went to Cambridge.

  GRIFFIN. I just said I did.