You want some more wine, Wally?
WALLY. Lovely. Lovely drop.
WEST. Scotch, Patsy?
PATSY. I won’t if it’s all the same, Mr West.
WEST. You sure? There’s plenty.
PATSY. It’s extremely kind. No.
Pause.
WEST. I want to apologise.
PATSY. What?
WEST. I didn’t mean to cast aspersions. I’m sorry if I seemed rude. I’ve been out of the loop. I’m catching up.
PATSY. I understand, Mr West.
WEST. The last thing in the world I want to do is offend you. Not when we’ve just met.
PATSY. Thank you, Mr West.
WEST. I hope there’s no hard feelings.
PATSY. None whatsoever.
WEST. Are you sure?
PATSY. Certain.
WEST. Good. Have we cleared that up?
PATSY. I believe we have.
WEST. Good. Because I need to clear something up too. Something from earlier. Something you said.
Silence.
PATSY. Yes, Mr West.
Pause.
WEST. It’s about the fort.
PATSY. The fort.
WALLY. The fort.
WEST. Yes. The fort. Earlier, I said when you’re on the way down, Patsy, why don’t you stop and take a look at the fort. And you said you would. And you did. And when you come back, you said in your opinion, it’s in the wrong place.
Beat.
PATSY. Yes, Mr West.
WEST. It’s in the wrong place.
PATSY. Yes.
WEST. That’s what you think.
PATSY. Well... Yes.
WEST. You’re sure?
PATSY. Well... Yes.
WEST. You’re absolutely one hundred per cent certain that that fort is in the wrong place?
Pause.
PATSY. Well. Mr West. If you stood on my chest. I hope I haven’t offended you. I’m sorry if I have. I certainly didn’t mean to. I mean. At the end of the day. It’s a fort.
Pause.
WEST. You said you went to the information centre.
PATSY. Yes, Mr West.
WEST. You pressed the big red button. You got the speaking lady.
PATSY. That’s right, Mr West.
WEST. You listened to what she had to say. About the fort.
PATSY. Well yes, Mr West. You said to. So I did...
WEST. You listened to her. Like I said.
PATSY. Yes, Mr West. Like you told me to.
Pause.
WEST. What year was the fort built? (Beat.) When was the fort built, Patsy?
PATSY. Let’s see. I think she said circa 600 BC.
WEST. 600 BC.
PATSY. Yes. Wait. No.
WEST. Yes. Wait. No.
PATSY. I’m not sure.
WEST. You’re not sure.
PATSY. It depends what you mean.
WEST. It’s a simple question. When was the fort built?
PATSY. Well. It’s tricky actually. See, the present Iron Age fort was built in 600 BC. But the speaking lady said that fort’s built on the foundations of an older fort, which dates back to Mesolithic times. That’s approximately 6000 BC. So it depends.
WEST. How big was the fort? What were the fort’s dimensions?
PATSY. Well. The main keep is eighty yards in diameter. So it covers roughly one acre in modern terms.
WEST. What did the fort contain?
PATSY. Lots of things.
WEST. Like what?
PATSY. A granary. A smithy. An earthwatch, the chieftain’s house and the citizens’ dwellings.
WEST. How many dwellings?
PATSY. Twenty-five.
WEST. How big were the dwellings?
PATSY. Each dwelling was twelve to fifteen feet in diameter.
WEST. When they dug it up. What were the main archeological finds?
PATSY. Nothing special. Usual stuff. Swords, spears, axes, fish hooks. Clay pots. Arrowheads.
WEST. Nothing special.
PATSY. What do you mean? Oh. Yes. There was one thing.
WEST. What?
PATSY. A single white-flint hand axe of Iron Age workmanship.
WEST. What’s Dartmoor made out of?
PATSY. Granite. Granite on molten magma.
WEST. When did tin mining begin in the area?
PATSY. The Bronze Age. What plant covers sixty per cent of Dartmoor?
WEST. Heather.
PATSY. Which way does the entrance of the fort face?
WEST. South. Towards?
PATSY. Arrowfleet. Why?
WEST. The grazing grounds. So it overlooks the grazing grounds. What stands to the west?
PATSY. A burial mound. A megalithic graveyard.
WEST. What stands to the east...?
PATSY. To the east is a stone circle. How big is it?
WEST. Eighty feet across. How many stones?
PATSY. Sixteen granite stones. How big are the stones?
WEST. Between ten and thirteen feet high.
PATSY. How heavy are the stones?
WEST. Smallest is three tons.
PATSY. The biggest is twelve tons.
WEST. What was it used for? What was the stone circle used for? (Pause.) What was the stone circle used for?
PATSY. I... (Pause.) Hang on. (Pause.) Wait...
Pause.
WEST. When did you decide to come? (Pause.) How long did you think about it? Have you got the stomach for this, Patsy? Not just the stomach. The kidneys. The lungs. The neck. The teeth. The skill. The knowledge. In your bones. In your fingernails. In your teeth. It’s not just front. Muscle and front. Nerve and bluster. What are you made of, Patsy? What are you made of?
Silence.
PATSY. Sacrifice. (Pause.) The stone circle was used for sacrifice. (Beat.) Human sacrifice.
Silence. PATSY’s nose starts to bleed.
WALLY. Patsy –
PATSY. It’s all right.
WALLY. I’m sorry, Mr West. Patsy.
PATSY. I said... I said it’s... I... I get... I got... I get these... It’s nothing... I... It’s...
He sits there, letting it bleed.
WEST. It’s your turn, Patsy. It’s your go.
PATSY wipes his nose. He has blood on his shirt. Silence.
PATSY. Who’s the girl? (Pause.) The one upstairs.
WALLY. What?
Pause.
PATSY. Who is she?
WALLY. What you talking about, Patsy? You not been upstairs.
PATSY. I know. But she’s up there. I saw her. Coming back up the path. She’s in the window. Looking out. Not moving. Just staring down. I waved to her. Who is she? Who’s the girl?
Silence.
Blackout.
End of Act One.
ACT TWO
The dead of winter. The previous year.
The farmhouse is even more desolate and derelict. Many floorboards are broken. Someone has had a bonfire in the middle of the room. Rats dart about.
WEST stands motionless to one side. He is filthy, cold, as if he has been sleeping rough for months.
Enter DRAYCOTT from the back.
DRAYCOTT. It’s just like I said, mister. You’re a lucky man.
Pause. DRAYCOTT removes something wrapped in greaseproof paper from his pocket. He unwraps it.
I’ve been over Chagford. They love me at that butcher’s. Sniff that. Get the beauty of it. That’s fresh killed, that is. That was snuffling around only this morning. You had heart? He’s good gear. Good for the blood. And the other. I don’t mind sharing. And you look like you could use a feed. So what do you say? Are you in? (Breaks sachets of salt and pepper.)
WEST. Thank you.
DRAYCOTT. Pig’s the best. And this is fresh. You won’t get finer in Buckingham Palace. I’ve cooked all over the West Country. Pubs. Rugby clubs. Newton Abbot Racecourse. I once cooked for eighty-six estate agents. A good fresh piece, get the pan hot. Onions, carrot, bit of butter. You wouldn’t
have an onion on your person, have you?
WEST. No.
DRAYCOTT. A carrot?
WEST. No.
DRAYCOTT. Butter? (Beat.) Not to worry. (Spits in the pan, tosses the hearts in, whole.) Oh yes, you’re very lucky I was in. I’m usually out, on my rounds. Mr Darling kills on Mondays. So, I’m in there early, acting the nag. Jabber away, touch the meat, pick up the knives. They get jumpy, Hey Preston, they bung me a trotter. A piece of liver. A heart or two just to piss off. I pop up all over. Princetown. Two Bridges. Dartmeet. Fruit shops are good. There’s a baker in Ashburton who’ll pay me two quid just to fuck off. Newsagents. Walk in. Start gibbering. End of the world. That’s a Yorkie. Couple bags of crisps. Just once a fortnight, mind. You can’t take the piss. But the baker’s a soft touch. Try it. Be my guest. You got to time it, see. Watch for a hour or two, wait till they’re chocker, lunchtime’s good, right when they’re rushed off their feet, then bundle in, start licking the walls. Works every time. But don’t go in Darling’s. That’s mine. You hear? I don’t want to hear you’ve been in Darling’s. I hear you’ve been bothering Mr Darling, I’ll be on the warpath. I’m serious. You set foot near the place, I’ll have your guts. In fact I’ve made a decision. It’s best you steer clear of Chagford altogether. Stay back. They know me over there. (Beat.) Here. Do you know what I thought when I saw you? Can I? I said to myself, there is a capital man. He’s from up there. The capital. A mile off. They stand different, Londoners. He’s seen it. He’s been around it. He’s been in airports all over the world. You wouldn’t think to look at him, but I can see it. I can see through things. And look closer. He’s got good hair, also. And teeth. It’s all about the teeth and the hair, when you get down to it. (Pause.) What was I saying? What was I just saying when I come in? What was I talking about?
WEST. Badgers.
DRAYCOTT. Was I? Really?
WEST. Yes.
DRAYCOTT. Why?
WEST. I don’t know.
Pause.
DRAYCOTT. Exactly. Badgers. Bastards. Never mess with a badger. I had a fight with a badger once. I’m coming home from The Feathers, full moon it was, and I’m taking a shortcut across Fletcher’s Field. I stop in this clearing and there he is. Big lad. Stripy. I’ve seen him before. I’m good with faces. I’m a demon. Previous June I’ve lugged a tree trunk at him. Now he’s back. And he’s brung two mates. Now I’m a good talker, I could talk my way out of most things, but they’re not having it. Their backs are up. You can smell it coming. I got no choice. So I stand as big as I can, and I bellows, ‘Right. Let’s have it you stripy cunts.’ Big mistake. He’s on me in a flash. And his chums. I was in bed for a month. Lost five pints of blood to it. And two toes. They should stamp them out. But they better do the lot, cos I’m here to tell you, the badger bears a grudge. (Beat.) You get to know the ropes, you’ll like it down here. But steer clear of Chagford. And Ashburton. Absolute shithole. Last June I’ve gone over there to see if I could get a game. Cricket this is. I know the skipper. He’s an old friend. Runs Specsavers in Ashburton. All right Skip, any chance of a knockaround? Nothing doing. Full up, he says. Fair enough. Week later, I’m strolling in the park and I see they’re playing. The cricketeers. So I go over and I cannot believe my fucking eyes. (Beat.) They’ve got a girl at short midwicket. Ten years old. I’ve marched straight out to the wicket and had it out with the skipper. I’ve not been rude. I’ve got a case. That skipper’s gone out of his way to humiliate a man who could put on thirty or forty without breaking a sweat. In the end, they called the police. I had the last laugh. By the time they got me off it was chucking it down. I showed them. And I never left it at that. All season, every home game, I’m there, on the boundary, when this skipper pads up, I’ve got the Telegraph rolled up... ‘Oy, you fat bender.’ ‘You great big goggle-eyed cunt.’ Now that’s not me. Normally. And whoever it was chucked a breeze block through Specsavers, that weren’t me neither. I walked on that one. Get some CCTV, you bastards. Pay your fucking taxes. They’re all vicious, vicious people, over Ashburton. Which is odd because it’s the drier side of the moor. Here we go. Here we go.
WEST. What?
A plane tears over, shaking the walls.
DRAYCOTT. Every fifteen minutes. I went down there, to the base to complain. Turns out the bloke on the desk, he can’t do nothing about it. It’s a trig point, he says. Says all the planes, the RAF, choppers, fighters, bombers, they roar out over the forest and turn left over the fort. It’s a landmark, see. Trig point. We’re losing the war, mate, meanwhile you’re back home, scaring the shit out of sheep. Are you all right? You look like you’re shivering. You want to get near this warm, mate. You want to come a bit closer.
WEST. Who owns it?
DRAYCOTT. Who owns what?
WEST. This house.
DRAYCOTT. What you talking about it? That’s cheek, that is. That’s royal cheek. I own it, mate. This house is mine. You’re my guest. You’re enjoying my hospitality. What did you think this was?
WEST. I’m sorry.
DRAYCOTT. You wouldn’t believe it but when I first got here this place was crammed full of filthy stinking animals. Rats. Dogs. Weasels. Vagrants. The Unemployed. Deviants. Deserters. The Depressed. I didn’t hang about. I used my military training. We’re getting there. This’ll be a home again. Slowly slowly, catchy monkey. (Takes the frying pan off.) That’s it. Not a moment more. Here. Get the beauty of it. Smell that. Smell that.
He does.
Nope, I’ve fucked it. I’ve burned him. He’s useless he is. Absolutely pointless. You need butter. And onions. And you sorely need that carrot. Not to worry. (Tosses it away.) I’ve got back-up. (Whips out two bags of crisps.) Smoky Bacon or Farmhouse Cheddar? Here you go. (Throws one.) You know I could use a man like you.
WEST. How?
DRAYCOTT. Help me do this place up. A lick of paint here and there. Fix that chair. Put in units. Get this place back to glory. I’ll strike you a bargain. I know someone with access to whitewash. And I know another fellow’s got a mattress. It’s practically new. You give me a hand, tarting her up, keeping the riff-raff back, it’s yours. You and me could go over there and bring it back. It’s about six miles. It’s a two-man job. We could lick this place into shape. What do you say? You and me. Are you in?
Pause.
Enter a young girl, LUE. Young. Small. Icicle-thin. Lipstick. A small army rucksack on her back. In a mac, with high heels, holding two old plastic shopping bags in one hand, and a hat box in the other, tied up with bailing twine.
Pause. Another plane streaks over.
Oh here we go. Here we go. Ssh. Hang on. You’ll like this. This is a good laugh. Hang about. (Goes over.) Well well well. How is Her Majesty? Did she pass the night pleasantly? No disturbances? No bad dreams? (Bows low.) May I offer my lowly salutations and enquire where we have passed this crisp, fine day? Where have you been these three days hence? And pray tell, what’s the capital of Russia? Where’s the English Channel? Who plays centre-half for Arsenal? What’s two plus two? How many fingers am I holding up? Who wrote Beethoven’s Fifth?
Silence. She doesn’t react.
Here look. Look. Here look. Madam has new shoes. And handsome they are too, with fine stitching. Pray tell, hast thou been to Okehampton, for a spot of shoplifting? Or in the car park of Lidls, checking car doors. Or round the back of the sport centre on your hands and knees.
He laughs. He rounds on her.
I heard you banging about down here last night. Good folk are trying to sleep. I sent you out for firewood, you swan back in three days later with a new coat. New shoes. Where’s the fuel, you dozy slut? Eh? You been over Nero’s, aintch you? Stuffing your face with pills. Catching stuff, bringing it back. I tell you what, you need pills, love. Some for your head and some for downstairs. And some to open that gob. I tell you, it tries you, mister. And I’m a patient soul. But day in, day out. (Looks to WEST.) Watch this.
He mimics a spastic. Putting on a spastic voice.
&n
bsp; ‘I’ve been over Okehampton. I’ve been shagging squaddies. They been buying me coats. I been riding with the Lord Mayor with sixteen stallions. I been to the finest parts of the world. I got ladies who run my bath.’ (Stops and laughs.) Have a go. Ask her anything? Go on. Eh? Your Majesty. Can you do this? Follow along. Follow along.
He rubs his stomach and pats his head.
Can you do this?
He makes a fucking gesture.
I tell you... someone’s dropped her on her head. Or they bloody should.
He stands right in front of her.
Where’s Mummy and Daddy? Eh? Did you get lost in the supermarket? Where’s Mummy? Where’s my mummy? Last winter it was, she shows up in the middle of the afternoon in her scundies. I swear. It’s nine below. She was blue. Been out on the moor for days. Down the barracks no doubt. Came back stinking like a bag of whelks. (Winks.) What’s the capital of Persia? (To WEST.) Have a go. She won’t mind. But watch your stuff. You think she bought that coat. Nothing doing. What you got in your bag, missus? Eh? Sticky fingers. She has a bath once in a blue moon. If you’re gonna get hold of her you’ve got to time it right. Then she’ll suck you off for a conker. I’ve never known the like.
He rounds on her again.
You better start pulling your weight or you’re out of here. And I’ll see to it. Contribute. Muck in. I don’t mind how. There’s more than one way to skin a cat, eh? Eh?
He laughs. He takes WEST aside.
Here. Are you ready? I’ve got half a bottle of Scotch upstairs. She’s partial. She’s thirsty, if you know what I mean. What do you say, eh? Here’s the play. You keep her talking, I’ll get the juice, get it down her, Hey Preston. You won’t believe it. Half a mo. Just keep her busy. This is the one, eh? Watch this. (Heads off.) I won’t be a minute, princess, I’m just popping upstairs to see to the plumbing. Talk amongst yourselves.
He goes upstairs leaving the two of them together. Silence.
WEST sits with his crisps. LUE puts her bags down and goes to the cupboard. She takes out some Ribena. She makes herself a Ribena. She drinks it. She goes to her bag. Upwraps a Yorkie. Eats a couple of squares. They keep catching each other’s eyes. Silence.
Sheep. WEST can’t stand it any longer.
LUE. Who are you?
WEST. No one.
LUE. You his friend?
Jez Butterworth Plays Page 18