LUE. I kissed your cheek. It was frozen. But then... you opened your eyes. And you turned to me and smiled. And the next morning, I come out, and you were gone. Where you’d been there was just ripped clothes and blood. And bones.
Pause. Enter WEST.
WEST. Morning, Patsy.
PATSY. Morning, Mr West.
WEST. You sleep well?
PATSY. Not that well as it happens. We were just... we were just... you know... talking.
WEST. Oh yes. What about?
Beat.
PATSY. Holidays.
WEST. Holidays.
Pause.
PATSY. So where’s this suitcase?
LUE. What?
PATSY. Your suitcase. You said it’s broke. The buckle’s broke. Perhaps I could take a look at it?
LUE. You sure?
PATSY. Why not?
LUE. I don’t know. I can’t give you nothing.
PATSY. I don’t want nothing. It’s just a buckle. Where is it? Where’s the suitcase? I’ll take a look at it.
Pause.
LUE. It’s upstairs.
PATSY. We won’t be a moment, Mr West.
PATSY nods. They go upstairs. WEST looks up the stairs, fixed. Pause. Enter WALLY from outside. Behind WEST.
WALLY. Up with the lark. Same as always. I’ve been for a walk. Bitter, it is. The ground’s froze solid. You sleep well, Len?
WEST (without turning). You sleep well, Wally?
WALLY. Country air, isn’t it? A right tonic. It was just like I said it would be. I’ve gone out sparko. I’ve woke up, it’s like I’ve had a thousand nights’ kip.
WEST (up the stairs). Where’d you walk then?
WALLY. I’ve just set off. I’ve gone for a ramble, me. The funny thing is, Len...
WEST. What’s that?
WALLY. Call me a berk. Call me a tonk. I still can’t find that blessed fort. I’ve looked everywhere. I’m thinking, ‘Come on, Coker, it must be round here somewhere.’ I’ve got completely lost. I end up down by this river. It’s froze solid. I’ve stepped out on it and you know what’s happened? Nothing. It’s held my weight. I pushed off and I’ve slid clean across it. Did I tell you I used to skate as a kid? At Queensway. I’ve won medals.
WEST. Really, Wally?
WALLY. It’s true. It’s like riding a bicycle. I’ve skated clean down the river. Like a kid. Over the rocks. On my soles. By the way, there’s good news.
WEST. What’s that then?
WALLY. The car. Rita’s car. Her little two-seater. I got Rita’s two-seater out that ditch. Out that bog. See, with the freeze, with the temperature dropped, the earth’s froze. I got the wheels to bite. I got traction, didn’t I? I floored it, she come flying out. Now she’s standing on the road. Ready to go.
WEST. You’re back in business.
WALLY. We are. We are. We’re ready to rock...
WEST. This time in the morning, not too much traffic.
WALLY. A following wind. We’ll be home in no time. (Pause.) Is Patsy up?
WEST. He’s upstairs.
WALLY. The dozy git. Is he asleep?
WEST. He didn’t sleep.
WALLY. Did he not? That’s a shame. Now he’ll be grumpy all the way home. (Pause.) I was just thinking, Len. Can I give you a lift?
WEST. What?
WALLY. Can I give you a lift somewhere?
WEST. What do you mean?
WALLY. I just thought. The engine’s running. Maybe I could give you a lift somewhere.
WEST. Where?
WALLY. Well, where do you want to go? Into town? Somewhere I can drop you. Ashburton. Exeter. Bristol. Swindon. Salisbury. Newbury. Reading. Home. (Pause.) It’s been a while, Len. You could go up West. You could see a show. You could have dinner. Like a human. What do you say? Do you want a lift, Len?
Pause.
WEST. I thought you was a two-seater.
WALLY. We are. A two-seater. Rita’s little two-seater.
Pause.
WEST. What do I have to do?
Pause.
WALLY. I said. I did. For the first year or two, mind your p’s and q’s. Just zip it. Watch. Clock what’s going on. You know who likes jokes, I said. You know who likes that much chat. Birds. He is. He’s like a schoolgirl. An old washerwoman. Kids today. They’ve got no barriers. You can’t teach ’em nothing. All triple-cocky. Got verbals to burn. I don’t mind. I’ll soak it up. But they’ve had a gut-full. They’ve had seconds. And thirds. So when I told them you’d rung, said Len’s rung, they’ve said to me, they’ve said, ‘Why don’t you go and see him? See how he is. (Beat.) And when you go and see him, when you go down and see Len, why don’t you take that little needler? Why don’t you take that mouthy little bird.’ He is. He’s like a bird. A bird what you can’t even shag. Although sometimes, you know. Just to shut him up. And at least now I won’t have to listen to him moaning all the way home. ‘My coffee’s cold. My muffin’s gone stale.’
Silence.
WEST. But –
WALLY. I can’t make you, Len. I can’t twist your arm. It’s your decision. You want a lift? Back to London... Back home.
Silence.
WEST. GO AND WAIT IN THE CAR.
WALLY. You sure, Len? You don’t have to...
Pause.
WEST. Go and wait in the car.
WALLY. That’s the spirit. That’s my Len. I’ll tell you what? I’ll be in the car, sunshine. And don’t mention it, you prat. They’ll be pleased as punch to see you. They’ll be tickled pink. And you’ll thank me for it. You’ll see. You will, Len. You’ll thank me for it.
He takes out a shiny black industrial bin liner.
Pop his head in here. They want to see it. (Beat.) I’ll be in the car, Len. Ten minutes. Ten, then I’m off. If you want a lift... I’ll be in the car. Ten minutes.
He turns. Then he turns back.
By the way, Len. This is... Look. About what happened... I just wanted to say... Well. What I’m trying to say is... (Beat.) Don’t doze off. (Beat.) I know. I know. I’m just saying. This time. I know you won’t. I know you’ll do me proud. But don’t. Eh? I know you won’t. But don’t. Don’t... you know... Doze off. Don’t make me come back up here. You’ve got ten minutes.
Beat.
Exit WALLY. WEST is alone.
PATSY (off, upstairs. Comes downstairs). Where’s Wally? He’s not in his room.
Pause.
WEST. You fix it, Patsy? You fix the suitcase?
PATSY. Where’s Wally?
WEST. He’s in the car.
PATSY. I see.
WEST. He’s running the motor.
PATSY. Is he?
WEST. The ground froze. He’s got it out. It’s right as rain.
PATSY. That’s good. (Pause.) So is he going back then? To London.
WEST. London. Yes.
PATSY. I see. Well. I better get down there then. You not coming along, Mr West?
WEST. See, that’s the trouble, Patsy. It’s a two-seater.
PATSY. Of course.
WEST. There’s no room, see. There’s only room for two.
PATSY. Of course there’s not. Of course there is. I should have thought of that.
WEST. You should have, Patsy. You should have.
Pause.
PATSY. Well I better be off. Don’t want to keep Mr Coker waiting.
PATSY is shaking.
He come in this morning. In the room. In the dark. He tells me. Why. Why he brung me. (Beat.) I’m their boy. They’ll look after me. I’m in. I’ve just got to do one thing.
PATSY takes out a black industrial bin liner.
Silence. They stand opposite one another.
Enter LUE. Pause.
LUE. Look. He fixed it. He fixed my suitcase.
Silence.
What’s going on? Len? What’s happening?
Pause.
WEST. Well it’s a very kind offer, Patsy. But as it turns out, I can’t go to London today.
LUE. What? Where y
ou going? What’s going on?
WEST. That’s just it. Even if there was enough room. Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to, Patsy. Really I would. See, it’s the pup. The pup’s gone off. She’s only small. (Beat.) So I can’t up and leave her. She’d get back here, and I’d be gone. It’s not fair.
PATSY. I suppose not.
WEST. The truth is, I can’t, Patsy. I can’t do it. (Pause.) Patsy is going to show you to the bus.
LUE. What do you mean?
Pause.
WEST. Who knows, maybe he’ll go with you to the airport. Maybe he’ll go with you. See you get there safe. He could do with the sun on his face.
Beat. PATSY nods.
PATSY. Maybe I could. Yes. Maybe I could.
LUE. But... but... I’m not ready to go. I’ve not got my maps. And I’ve not got an alarm clock. And I need a spare costume, and a towel and –
WEST. Just go. Just go. Now.
LUE. But –
WEST. Go out the back door. Across the field. Go across the moor.
LUE. I can’t. I need –
WEST. Go. Go now. You have to go. Now.
LUE. What are you going to do?
WEST. Just. Go.
LUE. I don’t have the money –
PATSY. It’s all right. I’ll take you there. I’ve... I’ve got it. I’ve got money. Let’s go.
LUE looks from one to the other. She walks up to WEST. She kisses his cheek.
LUE (to WEST). Take care of her.
Pause.
They stand there, looking at each other. She turns and leaves. PATSY follows.
Silence. A plane approaches. It tears over. Then fades.
WEST is alone.
He goes to the kitchen. He takes out the dog food. He comes back out.
WEST. Dolly. Dolly, Din Dins. Din Dins, Dolly. Dolly. Din Dins.
WEST picks up the axe and sits, the axe across his lap.
He waits.
Dolly. Din Dins. Din Dins. Dolly. Din Dins.
He sits there.
Fade to black.
The End.
LEAVINGS
Leavings was first performed as part of the Ten by Twenty season at Atlantic Stage 2, the Atlantic Theater, New York, on 14 June 2006. It was performed by Peter Maloney and directed by Neil Pepe.
Characters
KEN
Sound of the sea. A bungalow. Open plan. Red-and-white chequered floor. View out over the fields. The radio is on. KEN, an old man, enters. He switches off the radio. He scrapes a few plates into a dog bowl. He puts the bowl by the door.
Dolly. Din Dins. Din Dins. Dolly! Dolly? Din Dins. Dolly Din Dins. Dinny Dins. Dinny Dins Dolly. Dolly? Dolly! Dolly Doll. Dolly Doll. Din Dins. Din. Dins. Dins Dins Dolly. Dolly.
Pause. He searches the drawers, takes out a whistle. Blows it. Stand on the doorstep, blowing it. Calls.
Dolly. Dolly Doll. Dolzy. Dolly.
Nothing. He comes back, puts the kettle on.
The dog’s gone off. You hear me? The dog’s... She’s run off. What.
I said the dog’s gone. Where’s she gone. Search me. She’s run off.
She’ll come back. She’s a pest. She’s not supposed to go off.
I know she’s not supposed to go off. Eighty pound to have her done and still she’s off all hours. It’s money down the drain.
She’ll be off somewhere. Sniffing around. Sniffing after it. She’s wasting her time. She’s a bloody pest. She’ll find her way home.
You say that. She will, she’ll follow his nose. You say that. You say that. What if she doesn’t. Eh? She’ll wash up with the next tide. I don’t want to be out walking on the beach and find her washed up. Walking on the beach? You never walk on the beach. What you talking about. I’m out there every day. When? What do you mean, when? I’m out there every bloody evening. When? When? When I’m walking the bloody dog. Well, how you going to find the dog when you’re walking the bloody dog. DOLLY! DOLLY DOLL! DOLLY DOLL. DOLLY DOLLY DOLL! Reminds me of this joke. There’s this man walking across the desert with his dog and he’s got no food, and him and his dog, Rover was his name, they’re getting hungrier and hungrier, then one morning there’s nothing for it, he gets this rock and he smashes the dog’s skull, and he skins him and he makes a fire and he cooks him up. And he eats him. And after, all that’s left is this big pile of bones. And he looks at them, and he says, ‘Rover would’ve loved them.’ (Laughs.) DIN DINS. Din Dins Dolly! DIN DINS! Well, there’s nothing for it. Now I’m going to have to photocopy four hundred bloody pictures, pin ’em up all over town. ‘Have you see this dog.’ How many did you stick up last time. Ten. Twenty. Then you went to the pub. You left a hundred of ’em in the pub. Worked, didn’t it. No thanks to you. That picture looked like an indistinguishable smudge. ‘Has anyone seen this blob. Fifty-pound reward for this blob. Answers to the name of Smudge.’ A puppy? I don’t think so. Not unless you’ve got a very vivid imagination. You blow the whistle. Of course I did. Bloody thing’s broken, you ask me. How do you know. Eh? How do you know it’s not working perfectly. How do you know that’s not the finest dog whistle in the kingdom. What time did you get it? Don’t you start. Dolly! Dolly Doll. Dolly Doll Din Dins. Din Dins Dolly. I’m in The Plume. This is ten, fifteen year ago. Kelly Figgis’s given me a couple brace of duck. Pairs they are. Now, you know when you’ve got a brace of birds, they’re tied together at the neck, so’s you can carry them. I’ve chucked them on the passenger seat, driven home, bit pissed and that, and I’ve got inside and I’ve left them overnight on the seat of the truck. So anyway, I’ve opened the door, left it open, and there’s only one brace there. Only two ducks, see. So I come back out into the yard, scratching my head, and I see this sight. What sight. There she is. This duck walking around. Alive. One of the buggers is alive. And she’s dragging her mate. Who’s dead as stone. Dragging him in the mud, and quacking away. Right as rain. What did you do? What could I do. I grabbed him. Her. Not hard, she’s weighed down, like, can’t get away. And I got a knife, and I cut it free. It didn’t seem wounded, it weren’t bleeding, but then a duck can be mortal and the feathers cover it. It’s been shot, or what’s it doing tied up in a brace in the first place. What did you do? Only thing I could do. Stamp on it? I can’t. It’s healthy. It’s right as rain. Then what’s it doing tied in a brace. It never fell out of the sky from shock. I’m telling you, there isn’t a mark on it. It’s an entirely, one hundred per cent viable duck. So what did you do. Only thing I could do. I went inside to get it a saucer, some water. Help it get over the shock. Because the little bugger must be parched. Anyway, I come back outside and it’s gone. It’s flown off.
Probably crueller, that. Probably crueller than a stamping. He’s going to die a slow death now. She. It’s a her. The him’s a goner. He’s passed on. So she flew off. At least there’s a happy ending.
Yeah. Not really though. I was taking the dog the next morning, not Dolly, the one before Dolly, she’s dead now, this was before Dolly. Anyway, I’m taking the dog before Dolly out for a walk and I saw it. Dead on the path. Not him exactly. Just feathers. There was just feathers all over. The fox had took him. How do you know it was the same duck? It stands to reason.
The kettle boils.
That’s a really good story, Jack. That’s really cheered me up. That’s a riot, that is. A real feel-good story. You should write that down. They could make a film of that. Fuckin’... rom-com, that is. Fucking Christmas heartwarmer. They’ll queue up round the block to catch that. You’re made, chum. You’ve cracked it. You can put your feet up. Dolly. Doll. Dolly. Dolly Doll. Dolly Doll. I went past the church earlier. They was all in there, at it. I never got the hang of it, myself. Never felt him. Never saw more than a flick of his tail. Talk about the afterlife. I met this man once. Traveller, it was, and he knew his Bible backwards. He said it was all about children. The afterlife, that is. It’s children, innit. If you think about it. Not that I know much about them either. I ain’t got none. All I got’s this mangy mutt. This
stupid bloody mutt, don’t even know his way home. He’s lovely though. Sleeps on my feet. Licks my toes. He’s a pussycat really. I don’t mean he’s really a pussycat. Do you know, I was in Edinburgh once, freezing-cold winter, and the woman across the hall had all these cats. About twenty pussycats in a three-room flat. Seventh floor. Howe Street. One day, after I left, I heard she had a heart attack, and those cats, her cats, didn’t hang about. They made short work of her. They opened that place in the spring and they’d picked her clean. You can’t blame them. They’re pets, fair enough, but she don’t know the difference. If I go down and out, I don’t mind if Dolly fills her boots. It’s life, innit. She’s lovely, though. Sleeps on my feet. But if she was big and I was small, I know it’d be a different story. She wouldn’t stand on ceremony either. Wait for me to keel over. I know where... down her throat. Down her gullet. She wouldn’t hang about. She’d have me for breakfast. She’d have my tits on toast. I’m sleeping in the afternoon now. I get up and the night’s coming. Night’s coming and the dog’s not in. He’s out there. In the dark. Where it’s blackest, that’s where he’ll be. I had a dream yesterday night. Yesterday afternoon. Whatever. More of a vision really. I dreamt I was in Piccadilly Circus and everywhere I looked, all I could see was teeth. Rows and rows of teeth. Thousands. On the Underground. In the shops. In the restaurants. Chatting. Smiling. Biting. Ripping. Tearing. I got up, made a sandwich. Dolly got up too. For the leavings. It was a funny old one. I’m having lots of funny ones, but this was a funny one. Seriously. It was just... all these rows of teeth. Hundreds of rows of teeth. Yellow teeth. Broken teeth. Hot breath. That’s just the people. Think of them all out there. All the people. All the dogs. All of them, out there, in the dark. The hunger. All gnashing. All chomping. Claws digging. Digging up bones. I’ve got to get back down the doctor’s. Get some tablets. Sleeping tablets. They’ll set me right. I’ll go to bed at the right time, normal time, I’ll munch a couple of little white tablets and I’ll drift off. I’ll sleep like a baby. Then I’ll get up in the morning. With the sun. At sunrise. I’ll take Dolly out on the beach. It’ll be lovely and warm. And I’ll watch her run. I’ll watch her run and run. (Beat.) Look at that. Look at her go.
Jez Butterworth Plays Page 20