WALLY. I’ve left my fags in the car.
WEST. Oh no.
WALLY. I only have.
WEST. You nit.
WALLY. I’m always doing that.
WEST. You berk.
WALLY. They’re in the blessed glove compartment.
WEST. Wally...
WALLY. I am. I’m that big a tonk. (Beat.) I tell you what. You want to fetch them, Patsy?
PATSY. What?
WALLY. You want to fetch my fags? My Lamberts. I’ve left them in the motor. In the blessed glove compartment.
PATSY. You want a Benson? I got heaps.
WEST. Nothing doing. If I know Wally.
WALLY. I smoke Lamberts. Always have.
WEST. Always has. If I know Wally.
WALLY. Been smoking Lamberts for thirty years.
WEST. You could say he’s a Lamberts man.
WALLY. They’re in the glove compartment, Patsy. Failing that, there’s a duty-free carton in the boot. In my bowling bag. Tucked inside my bowling bag. You want to fetch me a packet?
PATSY. It’s half a mile.
WALLY. It’s downhill.
PATSY. It’s pitch dark.
WALLY. Take the torch. Please, Patsy. I would like it. Please, son. Fetch my fags. Fetch my fags. Fetch them. Fetch.
Pause. PATSY fetches his trousers.
WEST. A word of advice, Patsy. The path. It’s deceptively slippy on the way back down. Off to the left is a sheer drop. It falls away to nothing. My tip: stick to the solid ground. And on the way down, keep ’em peeled. For the fort. It’s very, very impressive. There’s an information centre. It’s got a big red button. You push it, this lady tells you all about it. She does. She fills you in. Tells you everything you need to know.
Pause.
PATSY. Well that’s that. I’ll just fetch your fags, Wally. And it seems what’s more, I’ll have an informative cultural experience on the way. (Turns to go. Turns back.) And Mr West? If I see your bitch out there, don’t worry. Dogs love me. I’ve been around them all my life. I know what to do.
WEST watches him go. Long silence. WEST stares at WALLY. WALLY breathes in deep like a pearl diver, surfacing.
WALLY. Just smell that. Eh? Smell it. (Pause.) I bet you sleep like a baby out here. Eh? You watch me tonight. I’ll be out like a light. I won’t make the count. I’ll sleep like the dead.
Silence.
What about you, Len? You sleeping well?
Pause.
WEST. You been to Dartmoor before, Wally?
WALLY. Once. Camping.
WEST. As a kid?
WALLY. It was awful. All night we’ve got these wild horses circling the tent. I never got a wink. All around us. Just... darkness and snorting and... hooves.
WEST. Nothing sleeps out here, Wally. All the rats. The foxes. The weasels. Knackered and starving and scared. You don’t sleep out here, Wally. You fall asleep out here, something creeps up and eats you. (Beat.) So you came.
WALLY. I course I come.
WEST. When you was late I thought whoops. Whoops Wally. Old Wally. He’s let me down. He’s done this. (Turns his back.)
WALLY. Not Wally.
WEST. Eh? (Turns back.) He’s done this. (Turns again. Stays turned.)
WALLY. Not this Wally, Len.
WEST. But you come. You did. Even after what happened.
Beat.
WALLY. What happened?
WEST. In your little tent, Wally. The hooves. (Pause.) Well, Wally. You must be devastated.
WALLY. Sorry?
WEST. No. You must be.
WALLY. Sorry. Len. What? Sorry. You’ve lost me.
WEST. Jerry.
WALLY. Oh. Tragic.
WEST. Awful.
WALLY. What a waste.
WEST. You must be devastated.
WALLY. Well, strictly speaking, Jerry was more your mate, Len.
WEST. Would you say?
WALLY. Strictly speaking.
WEST. Isn’t that funny? I could have sworn it was more you and Jerry. I could have sworn it was more you and Jerry, rather than me and Jerry.
WALLY. Well we were the Three Musketeers, weren’t we? You know... from... you know... from a distance...
WEST. The Three Musketeers.
WALLY. We were. We were the Three Stooges.
WEST. But you and Jerry, Wally? Eh? Always off in a corner. Giggling. Making each other laugh in the car.
WALLY. I’d say we were more the Three Stooges, Len. And I think each you know... each Stooge, for example, as it were... was equal. Not equal. I’m not saying that I was, you know... Of course not. Not equal. I’m not saying that... I mean you were, you know... you were... Groucho. Or whatever. The Marx Brothers. Except there was loads of them. The Three... you know... whatever. The Three... You know... Degrees. Not Degrees. That gives the wrong impression. Entirely wrong. Anyway. The Three. The Three... whatever. Exactly. That was us.
WEST. Not any more.
Beat.
WALLY. No, Len. No. Not any more.
Pause.
WEST. Here. Eh? You, me and Jerry? Eh? You, me and Jerry.
WALLY. Don’t.
WEST. Here, do you remember...
WALLY. Yes, Len?
WEST. Talking... Do you remember – (Starts to laugh.)
WALLY. Yes, Mr West?
More laughter.
Yes, Len...?
WEST. Wales.
WALLY. Bloody hell.
WEST. Barry Island.
WALLY. Bloody hell.
WEST. Eh?
WALLY. Bloody hell.
WEST. Eh?
WALLY. Stone me. I’d clean forgot.
WEST. Me, you and Jerry. In those chalets.
WALLY. My honeymoon. With Sarah.
WEST. Sarah.
WALLY. Bloody hell. Barry. That was a party.
WEST. The whole bank holiday. No hold barred. Jerry brung that stripper.
WALLY. You brung that coloured bird.
WEST. What was her name?
WALLY. Bahar. Bazzar. Bazzer. Ree. Bazree. ReeBoz.
WEST. Me and Jerry shared a chalet. A thousand and one nights, Wally.
WALLY. An era. In bunks. All over. Scotland.
WEST. York. Cleethorpes.
WALLY. Cork. Amsterdam.
WEST. Bromsgrove. Chorleywood.
WALLY. Hove. That Portakabin in Hove. The three of us. For ten days. Waiting.
WEST. Shitting in a bucket. Next week, we’re in Claridge’s.
WALLY. All in cummerbunds. Like it’s the Oscars.
WEST. Like it never happened.
WALLY. Like it never happened. The Oscars. Exactly.
WEST. Shitting in a bucket. Bang. We’re in Claridge’s.
WALLY. Beluga. Dom Pérignon. Birds in the room.
WEST. You know what I remember. If I had to pick one, and take it with me. (Beat.) Highbury.
WALLY. What a day.
WEST. That day.
WALLY. What a day, Len. What a day.
WEST. In that box. It weren’t the celebrities. It weren’t the personalities. It was the light.
WALLY. The light.
WEST. The light. Coming right in, across the fans, onto us.
WALLY. Champagne light. Champagne.
WEST. You’re in a blue suit. Jerry’s in black.
WALLY. You was in a cream three-piece. You stood up the whole game at the front of the box. Ramrod straight.
WEST. That singer.
WALLY. The singer, she put her hand on your buttocks. I saw.
WEST. You don’t miss a trick.
WALLY. You dirty bastard. The birds. Tongues hanging out.
WEST. How many cream suits did I have?
WALLY. It had to be ten.
WEST. Ten suits. All of white.
WALLY. No one could touch you. A lean man. All gristle. In a room. To stand a man down. Staunch. Staunch in a pinch. A flinch. Clinical. Blink. It’s happened.
WEST. New York.
WALLY. Fuck me. I taught you to skate.
WEST. In Central Park. I can see us now. You, me and Jerry.
WALLY. We’re on the ice.
WEST. You’d won medals.
WALLY. I was a champion skater. As a boy.
WEST. You taught us to skate.
WALLY. It was the least I could do. I walk in one day. I’m a kid. In the club.
WEST. You can’t look left or right.
WALLY. I’m shaking.
WEST. Sweating.
WALLY. They’re going to eat me alive.
WEST. Your heart’s doing this...
WALLY. Sixteen years old.
WEST. Who puts out a hand.
WALLY. Who takes me under their wing. I’m not proud. Without you, Mr West, I’m a smudge somewhere. On an apron. Washing up in some caff. Fifty-pence bets. A cheap gravestone.
WEST. The Three Musketeers.
WALLY. Exactly, Len. That’s who we were. That’s who we were.
WEST. Who saw him jump?
WALLY. What?
Beat.
WEST. Did you see him jump, Wally? Who pulled him out? One word to describe Jerry what would it be? Morose? Unstable? Haunted? Desperate? Forlorn? Who saw the body? Did you see the body? Did you see him jump in the Thames?
WALLY. Len –
WEST. You taught him to skate.
Pause.
WALLY. It’s been a hard few years, Len. Everything’s changed. London is awful. You get a day off, go to the seaside, catch a train... you can’t get away. You never can. It’s dark, Len. You don’t know what’s next. You don’t know what next.
WEST. But you’re still here, Wally? You’re here. You never jumped in the Thames.
Beat.
WALLY. Week ago, I’m sat in the doctor’s, doctor in front of me, he’s holding my bollocks, I’m thinking this is it. I’ve got cancer. Bollock cancer. My mobile rings. What do I do? Even if I could, it’s some weird code. They don’t call back, it’s a wrong ’un. It’s a wrong number. Two days later, I’m at a confirmation, it’s on vibrate. I get out, I’ve got seven missed calls. One number. Same number. Same weird, wrong number. But I’ve got this sixth sense. I go outside. Press redial. It just rings and rings. I don’t know it’s a fucking phone box, in some field. I’m up half the night, pressing redial, don’t ask me why, I’ve got this sixth sense. This fucking shepherd picks up. This farmer. I’m on The Archers. Non capiche. Not the first word. I hang up, phone directory enquiries. It’s the West Country. Somewhere on Dartmoor. My hair stands up. I just think, it must be. It must be. (Pause.) I’ve sat there for two days, by my bed, Pot Noodle, mobile charging, five chunks, just staring at it. Not moving. Two days. Waiting. Waiting. (Pause.) Bam. Rings once. Once. (Beat.) ‘Hello Len.’ ‘Hello Wally.’ ‘I need help, Wally. I want to come back. I want to come home.’ (Pause.) ‘What do I do, Len? I’ll do anything.’ (Pause.) You go through Bridgetown. Two miles past. Stop. Some gate. Some red gate. Keep walking. Where? Into the darkness. Into the fucking black. (Pause.) You’re right. I am here. You said come. I came.
Beat.
Re-enter PATSY. Pause.
WEST. I see Patsy’s back.
WALLY. Watcha, Patsy. What happened? You’re all muddy again. Look at you. It’s a long way down. And in the dark. You lose your bearings?
WEST. You all right, Patsy? You find your way back all right, Patsy? You stick to the path? You do what you was told?
WALLY. How’d you get on?
WEST. You see the fort? Eh? You see it this time or did you miss it again?
WALLY. Yeah... you uh... You see the fort?
WEST. Eh? Patsy? Did you see it? Did you see the fort?
PATSY. Yes. Yes. I saw it.
WEST. It’s breathtaking, isn’t it? Were you impressed?
Pause.
PATSY. It’s nice. It’s a nice fort. It must have been an extremely impressive structure in its day. Very imposing. And very atmospheric. And, I mean, I’m no expert, Mr West. But anyone can see they’ve built it in the wrong place.
Beat.
WEST. What’s that, Patsy?
WALLY. Patsy?
PATSY. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a cracking fort. It’s just in the wrong place.
WEST. The wrong place...
WALLY. Here we go.
PATSY. I’m just saying. Yes. It’s up high. Yes. It’s on high land, overlooking the river, that’s all textbook, textbook fort placement. See the enemy coming from miles. But they’ve bodged it. See, if it was me, I’d a have carried them rocks up another two hundred yards. Up to the top of the bluff... See, the land slopes sharp, and just above, just beyond all them sheep, there’s a natural spur to the bluff. It’s got a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree panorama and twenty feet of sheer granite to scramble up. If they’d asked me, if they’d brung me in, I’d’ve said whack it up there. It’s a bollocks getting all that granite up there, but you’ll thank me.
WALLY. How long’s it been there, Patsy?
PATSY. Two-and-a-half millennia, Wally.
WALLY. And it’s still standing. It’s still up. Two thousand years later, the walls are still up.
PATSY. Don’t get me wrong, Wally. I’m not knocking the build quality. Anyone can see that fort is supremely well realised using unquestionably durable material. I’m just saying they done it in the wrong place. (Beat.) See, Mr West. I done what you said, I’ve gone to the information centre, and I’ve pressed the red button, and the talking lady told me, she was very informative, she said her fort was overrun in 250 AD by marauding Picts. And I can see how they done it. They’ve come bundling down off that bluff. They wouldn’ta been able to’ve done that if the Iron Age blokes’d listened to me. You whack your fort up on the bluff, there’s no bluff to attack from. You’re on it. They’d still be there today. But no. They’ve been lazy. Cut corners. Sure enough, they’ve got mullered. They’re yesterday’s men. The sands of time have washed over them. The rest is history. By the way, can I say something, Mr West? Earlier, we touched upon a subject. Namely, the subject of my mother.
WALLY. Patsy –
PATSY. It’s okay, Wally. This won’t take a minute. I said her name was Rita, whereupon, in my opinion, you clearly expressed astonishment.
WALLY. Patsy –
PATSY. Please, Wally. If I may. When you done this, Wally suddenly remembered he’d left his Lamberts in the car. Now Wally, as you outlined, loves his Lamberts. He’s a pig for ’em. Can’t be more than three feet from a Lambert, or he starts sweating. I bet if we frisked Wally right now, we’d find two, possibly three packs of Lamberts secreted about his person. (Turns to WALLY.) It’s all right. Don’t turn out your pockets. I know why you done it. Steady the boat. Moving right along. Well I’d like to move back if I may. To just before Wally sent me out to fetch his Lamberts. To the subject of Rita. Rita and Wally. My mum.
WALLY. That’s enough, Patsy –
PATSY. Please, Wally. This won’t take a minute. When Wally said he was with Rita, you raised an eyebrow. Expressed a degree of astonishment. Astonishment I took it, that Wally here would be emotionally or otherwise associated with someone like Mum, like my mother. Like Rita.
WALLY. All right, Patsy. That’s enough.
PATSY. Can I tell you a quick story, Mr West? The other day, I’m back home at my old mum’s. I’m in the tub, when the front door opens and in comes Wally, with Mum. They’ve been out, they’re a bit tiddly, in the hall. I’m in the tub. They don’t know I’m there. (Beat.) Wally says, I heard him downstairs clear as a bell, he says, ‘Rita, you are a good good woman. Without you, I’m nothing. I’m just another stupid old saggy dog that’s going to die, rot and be forgotten.’
WALLY. When was this?
PATSY. And she says, ‘Bollocks, Wally, you are an amazing human being. You are a kind, strong, many-faceted individual, who inspires and nourishes each soul you touch.’ And Wally goes up. Big heaving sobs. He says, ‘Rita, you are an angel sent to protect me. It’s cold out there. It’s cold. Hold m
e. Please hold me.’ (Beat.) Now, to imagine this story, you have to bear in mind since you last seen Rita she’s got new teeth. And she don’t drink shorts no more. She’s got the teeth, some eyebrow lift what never come off. New set of Bristols. Wally stumped for ’em. Don’t get me wrong. Still, Rita emphatically does not scrub up. She’s still got the sideburns. The shoulders. The big goalie hands. Plus, no amount of sawing and stitching and hammering is going to change what’s underneath. Time spent with Rita still often has a nightmarish quality. Wally’s had to slap her down once or twice in public. It’s worked wonders. She’s made him look a right prat once or twice. A proper clown. And you’ve always got to watch her. She’ll go off like a rucksack. You can’t give her a yard. Turn your back for one minute, she’s in the bucket cupboard with a broom across the door. In that Chinese restaurant. With half the staff. About sixteen Chinamen in a broom cupboard. They should have rung Roy Castle. But then Wally’s no church picnic. Ask the birds. Proper ogre, once the door’s shut. Right bedroom bully, once the light’s off. So what I’m saying is, I understand your reaction, Mr West. But whereas most people would agree with us, whereas most people agree Rita’s a vicious, bitter moo you wouldn’t pork with a spacesuit on, Wally here don’t share the public’s qualms. And the best bit, the bonus, is I get to spend time with Wally. And time spent with Wally is golf, mate. It’s pure golf. On the way over here, he’s pulled the car over, he looked me in the eye and he’s said, ‘I don’t want you to think I’m soppy. I’m not being bent or nothing but I love you, Patsy.’
WALLY. Steady.
PATSY. ‘I do. And I’ll look after you.’
WALLY. Steady the bus.
PATSY. ‘And I’m not being bent, but I love that Mr West. That Len – ’ he said. Look. He’s blushing now, like a woman, like a prat, but he said it, on the M5. ‘It don’t matter what he’s done. Why he’s out in the cold. I’d go to the Moon for that man. To the Moon.’ (Beat.) I just want to say... Thank you, Wally. Some fathers wouldn’t. Some would just leave you in the dark. Not you, Wally. And also to say, and I’m not being bent, but ditto. I love you too. And you love Mr West. And Mr West, I don’t doubt, you know, eh? Eh? I bet? Eh? You know? Eh? So here we are. Eh? Men who love each other, but who are not benders. Here’s your Lamberts, Wally.
He gives them to him. Long silence.
WEST. Why don’t we sit down? Eh? Patsy. Come in. Come in. Come and sit down.
PATSY sits in the armchair. The others stay standing.
Jez Butterworth Plays Page 17