Harold Pinter Plays 1

by Harold Pinter

ROSE. He wouldn’t do that.

  MR KIDD. Oh yes. I know it.

  Pause.

  ROSE. What’s the time?

  MR KIDD. I don’t know.

  Pause.

  ROSE. Fetch him. Quick. Quick!

  MR KIDD goes out. She sits in the rocking-chair.

  After a few moments the door opens. Enter a blind Negro. He closes the door behind him, walks further, and feels with a stick till he reaches the armchair. He stops.

  RILEY. Mrs Hudd?

  ROSE. You just touched a chair. Why don’t you sit in it?

  He sits.

  RILEY. Thank you.

  ROSE. Don’t thank me for anything. I don’t want you up here. I don’t know who you are. And the sooner you get out the better.

  Pause.

  (Rising.) Well, come on. Enough’s enough. You can take a liberty too far, you know. What do you want? You force your way up here. You disturb my evening. You come in and sit down here. What do you want?

  He looks about the room.

  What are you looking at? You’re blind, aren’t you? So what are you looking at? What do you think you’ve got here, a little girl? I can keep up with you. I’m one ahead of people like you. Tell me what you want and get out.

  RILEY. My name is Riley.

  ROSE. I don’t care if it’s – What? That’s not your name. That’s not your name. You’ve got a grown-up woman in this room, do you hear? Or are you deaf too? You’re not deaf too, are you? You’re all deaf and dumb and blind, the lot of you. A bunch of cripples.

  Pause.

  RILEY. This is a large room.

  ROSE. Never mind about the room. What do you know about this room? You know nothing about it. And you won’t be staying in it long either. My luck. I get these creeps come in, smelling up my room. What do you want?

  RILEY. I want to see you.

  ROSE. Well you can’t see me, can you? You’re a blind man. An old, poor blind man. Aren’t you? Can’t see a dickeybird.

  Pause.

  They say I know you. That’s an insult, for a start. Because I can tell you, I wouldn’t know you to spit on, not from a mile off.

  Pause.

  Oh, these customers. They come in here and stink the place out. After a handout. I know all about it. And as for you saying you know me, what liberty is that? Telling my landlord too. Upsetting my landlord. What do you think you’re up to? We’re settled down here, cosy, quiet, and our landlord thinks the world of us, we’re his favourite tenants, and you come in and drive him up the wall, and drag my name into it! What did you mean by dragging my name into it, and my husband’s name? How did you know what our name was?

  Pause.

  You’ve led him a dance, have you, this week-end? You’ve got him going, have you? A poor, weak old man, who lets a respectable house. Finished. Done for. You push your way in and shove him about. And you drag my name into it.

  Pause.

  Come on, then. You say you wanted to see me. Well, I’m here. Spit it out or out you go. What do you want?

  RILEY. I have a message for you.

  ROSE. You’ve got what? How could you have a message for me, Mister Riley, when I don’t know you and nobody knows I’m here and I don’t know anybody anyway. You think I’m an easy touch, don’t you? Well, why don’t you give it up as a bad job? Get off out of it. I’ve had enough of this. You’re not only a nut, you’re a blind nut and you can get out the way you came.

  Pause.

  What message? Who have you got a message from? Who?

  RILEY. Your father wants you to come home.

  Pause.

  ROSE. Home?

  RILEY. Yes.

  ROSE. Home? Go now. Come on. It’s late. It’s late.

  RILEY. To come home.

  ROSE. Stop it. I can’t take it. What do you want? What do you want?

  RILEY. Come home, Sal.

  Pause.

  ROSE. What did you call me?

  RILEY. Come home, Sal.

  ROSE. Don’t call me that.

  RILEY. Come, now.

  ROSE. Don’t call me that.

  RILEY. So now you’re here.

  ROSE. Not Sal.

  RILEY. Now I touch you.

  ROSE. Don’t touch me.

  RILEY. Sal.

  ROSE. I can’t.

  RILEY. I want you to come home.

  ROSE. No.

  RILEY. With me.

  ROSE. I can’t.

  RILEY. I waited to see you.

  ROSE. Yes.

  RILEY. Now I see you.

  ROSE. Yes.

  RILEY. Sal.

  ROSE. Not that.

  RILEY. So, now.

  Pause.

  So, now.

  ROSE. I’ve been here.

  RILEY. Yes.

  ROSE. Long.

  RILEY. Yes.

  ROSE. The day is a hump. I never go out.

  RILEY. No.

  ROSE. I’ve been here.

  RILEY. Come home now, Sal.

  She touches his eyes, the back of his head and his temples with her hands. Enter BERT.

  He stops at the door, then goes to the window and draws the curtains. It is dark. He comes to the centre of the room and regards the woman.

  BERT. I got back all right.

  ROSE (going towards him). Yes.

  BERT. I got back all right.

  Pause.

  ROSE. Is it late?

  BERT. I had a good bowl down there.

  Pause.

  I drove her down, hard. They got it dark out.

  ROSE. Yes.

  BERT. Then I drove her back, hard. They got it very icy out.

  ROSE. Yes.

  BERT. But I drove her.

  Pause.

  I sped her.

  Pause.

  I caned her along. She was good. Then I got back. I could see the road all right. There was no cars. One there was. He wouldn’t move. I bumped him. I got my road. I had all my way. There again and back. They shoved out of it. I kept on the straight. There was no mixing it. Not with her. She was good. She went with me. She don’t mix it with me. I use my hand. Like that. I get hold of her. I go where I go. She took me there. She brought me back.

  Pause.

  I got back all right.

  He takes the chair from the table and sits to the left of the NEGRO’S chair, close to it. He regards the NEGRO for some moments. Then with his foot he lifts the armchair up. The NEGRO falls on to the floor. He rises slowly.

  RILEY. Mr Hudd, your wife –

  BERT. Lice!

  He strikes the NEGRO, knocking him down, and then kicks his head against the gas-stove several times. The NEGRO lies still. BERT walks away.

  Silence.

  ROSE stands clutching her eyes.

  ROSE. Can’t see. I can’t see. I can’t see.

  Blackout

  Curtain

  THE DUMB WAITER

  The Dumb Waiter was first presented at the Hampstead Theatre Club on 21 January 1960, with the following cast:

  BEN Nicholas Selby

  GUS George Tovey

  Directed by James Roose-Evans

  The Dumb Waiter was transferred to the Royal Court Theatre on 8 March 1960, with the same cast.

  The Dumb Waiter was produced for televison by the BBC on 23 July 1985, with the following cast:

  BEN Colin Blakely

  GUS Kenneth Cranham

  Directed by Kenneth Ives

  THE DUMB WAITER

  Scene: A basement room. Two beds, flat against the back wall. A serving hatch, closed, between the beds. A door to the kitchen and lavatory, left. A door to a passage, right.

  BEN is lying on a bed, left, reading a paper. GUS is sitting on a bed, right, tying his shoelaces, with difficulty. Both are dressed in shirts, trousers and braces.

  Silence.

  GUS ties his laces, rises, yawns and begins to walk slowly to the door, left. He stops, looks down, and shakes his foot.

  BEN lowers his paper and watches him. GUS kneels
and unties his shoe-lace and slowly takes off the shoe. He looks inside it and brings out a flattened matchbox. He shakes it and examines it. Their eyes meet. BEN rattles his paper and reads. GUS puts the matchbox in his pocket and bends down to put on his shoe. He ties his lace, with difficulty. BEN lowers his paper and watches him. GUS walks to the door, left, stops, and shakes the other foot. He kneels, unties his shoe-lace, and slowly takes off the shoe. He looks inside it and brings out a flattened cigarette packet. He shakes it and examines it. Their eyes meet. BEN rattles his paper and reads. GUS puts the packet in his pocket, bends down, puts on his shoe and ties the lace.

  He wanders off, left.

  BEN slams the paper down on the bed and glares after him. He picks up the paper and lies on his back, reading.

  Silence.

  A lavatory chain is pulled twice off, left, but the lavatory does not flush.

  Silence.

  GUS re-enters, left, and halts at the door, scratching his head. BEN slams down the paper.

  BEN. Kaw!

  He picks up the paper.

  What about this? Listen to this!

  He refers to the paper.

  A man of eighty-seven wanted to cross the road. But there was a lot of traffic, see? He couldn’t see how he was going to squeeze through. So he crawled under a lorry.

  GUS. He what?

  BEN. He crawled under a lorry. A stationary lorry.

  GUS. No?

  BEN. The lorry started and ran over him.

  GUS. Go on!

  BEN. That’s what it says here.

  GUS. Get away.

  BEN. It’s enough to make you want to puke, isn’t it?

  GUS. Who advised him to do a thing like that?

  BEN. A man of eighty-seven crawling under a lorry!

  GUS. It’s unbelievable.

  BEN. It’s down here in black and white.

  GUS. Incredible.

  Silence.

  GUS shakes his head and exits. BEN lies back and reads.

  The lavatory chain is pulled once off left, but the lavatory does not flush.

  BEN whistles at an item in the paper.

  GUS re-enters.

  I want to ask you something.

  BEN. What are you doing out there?

  GUS. Well, I was just –

  BEN. What about the tea?

  GUS. I’m just going to make it.

  BEN. Well, go on, make it.

  GUS. Yes, I will. (He sits in a chair. Ruminatively.) He’s laid on some very nice crockery this time, I’ll say that. It’s sort of striped. There’s a white stripe.

  BEN reads.

  It’s very nice. I’ll say that.

  BEN turns the page.

  You know, sort of round the cup. Round the rim. All the rest of it’s black, you see. Then the saucer’s black, except for right in the middle, where the cup goes, where it’s white.

  BEN reads.

  Then the plates are the same, you see. Only they’ve got a black stripe – the plates – right across the middle. Yes, I’m quite taken with the crockery.

  BEN (still reading). What do you want plates for? You’re not going to eat.

  GUS. I’ve brought a few biscuits.

  BEN. Well, you’d better eat them quick.

  GUS. I always bring a few biscuits. Or a pie. You know I can’t drink tea without anything to eat.

  BEN. Well, make the tea then, will you? Time’s getting on.

  GUS brings out the flattened cigarette packet and examines it.

  GUS. You got any cigarettes? I think I’ve run out.

  He throws the packet high up and leans forward to catch it.

  I hope it won’t be a long job, this one.

  Aiming carefully, he flips the packet under his bed.

  Oh, I wanted to ask you something.

  BEN (slamming his paper down). Kaw!

  GUS. What’s that?

  BEN. A child of eight killed a cat!

  GUS. Get away.

  BEN. It’s a fact. What about that, eh? A child of eight killing a cat!

  GUS. How did he do it?

  BEN. It was a girl.

  GUS. How did she do it?

  BEN. She –

  He picks up the paper and studies it.

  It doesn’t say.

  GUS. Why not?

  BEN. Wait a minute. It just says – Her brother, aged eleven, viewed the incident from the toolshed.

  GUS. Go on!

  BEN. That’s bloody ridiculous.

  Pause.

  GUS. I bet he did it

  BEN. Who?

  GUS. The brother.

  BEN. I think you’re right.

  Pause.

  (Slamming down the paper.) What about that, eh? A kid of eleven killing a cat and blaming it on his little sister of eight! It’s enough to –

  He breaks off in disgust and seizes the paper. GUS rises.

  GUS. What time is he getting in touch?

  BEN reads.

  What time is he getting in touch?

  BEN. What’s the matter with you? It could be any time. Any time.

  GUS (moves to the foot of BEN’S bed). Well, I was going to ask you something.

  BEN. What?

  GUS. Have you noticed the time that tank takes to fill?

  BEN. What tank?

  GUS. In the lavatory.

  BEN. No. Does it?

  GUS. Terrible.

  BEN. Well, what about it?

  GUS. What do you think’s the matter with it?

  BEN. Nothing.

  GUS. Nothing?

  BEN. It’s got a deficient ballcock, that’s all.

  GUS. A deficient what?

  BEN. Ballcock.

  GUS. No? Really?

  BEN. That’s what I should say.

  GUS. Go on! That didn’t occur to me.

  GUS wanders to his bed and presses the mattress.

  I didn’t have a very restful sleep today, did you? It’s not much of a bed. I could have done with another blanket too. (He catches sight of a picture on the wall.) Hello, what’s this? (Peering at it.) ‘The First Eleven.’ Cricketers. You seen this, Ben?

  BEN (reading). What?

  GUS. The first eleven.

  BEN. What?

  GUS. There’s a photo here of the first eleven.

  BEN. What first eleven?

  GUS (studying the photo). It doesn’t say.

  BEN. What about that tea?

  GUS. They all look a bit old to me.

  GUS wanders downstage, looks out front, then all about the room.

  I wouldn’t like to live in this dump. I wouldn’t mind if you had a window, you could see what it looked like outside.

  BEN. What do you want a window for?

  GUS. Well, I like to have a bit of a view, Ben. It whiles away the time.

  He walks about the room.

  I mean, you come into a place when it’s still dark, you come into a room you’ve never seen before, you sleep all day, you do your job, and then you go away in the night again.

  Pause.

  I like to get a look at the scenery. You never get the chance in this job.

  BEN. You get your holidays, don’t you?

  GUS. Only a fortnight.

  BEN (lowering the paper). You kill me. Anyone would think you’re working every day. How often do we do a job? Once a week? What are you complaining about?

  GUS. Yes, but we’ve got to be on tap though, haven’t we? You can’t move out of the house in case a call comes.

  BEN. You know what your trouble is?

  GUS. What?

  BEN. You haven’t got any interests.

  GUS. I’ve got interests.

  BEN. What? Tell me one of your interests.

  Pause.

  GUS. I’ve got interests.

  BEN. Look at me. What have I got?

  GUS. I don’t know. What?

  BEN. I’ve got my woodwork. I’ve got my model boats. Have you ever seen me idle? I’m never idle. I know how to occupy my time, to its best
advantage. Then when a call comes, I’m ready.

  GUS. Don’t you ever get a bit fed up?

  BEN. Fed up? What with?

  Silence.

  BEN reads. GUS feels in the pocket of his jacket, which hangs on the bed.

  GUS. You got any cigarettes? I’ve run out.

  The lavatory flushes off left.

  There she goes.

  GUS sits on his bed.

  No, I mean, I say the crockery’s good. It is. It’s very nice. But that’s about all I can say for this place. It’s worse than the last one. Remember that last place we were in? Last time, where was it? At least there was a wireless there. No, honest. He doesn’t seem to bother much about our comfort these days.

  BEN. When are you going to stop jabbering?

  GUS. You’d get rheumatism in a place like this, if you stay long.

  BEN. We’re not staying long. Make the tea, will you? We’ll be on the job in a minute.

  GUS picks up a small bag by his bed and brings out a packet of tea. He examines it and looks up.

  GUS. Eh, I’ve been meaning to ask you.

  BEN. What the hell is it now?

  GUS. Why did you stop the car this morning, in the middle of that road?

  BEN (lowering the paper). I thought you were asleep.

  GUS. I was, but I woke up when you stopped. You did stop, didn’t you?

  Pause.

  In the middle of that road. It was still dark, don’t you remember? I looked out. It was all misty. I thought perhaps you wanted to kip, but you were sitting up dead straight, like you were waiting for something.

  BEN. I wasn’t waiting for anything.

  GUS. I must have fallen asleep again. What was all that about then? Why did you stop?

  BEN (picking up the paper). We were too early.

  GUS. Early? (He rises.) What do you mean? We got the call, didn’t we, saying we were to start right away. We did. We shoved out on the dot. So how could we be too early?

  BEN (quietly). Who took the call, me or you?

  GUS. You.

  BEN. We were too early.

  GUS. Too early for what?

  Pause.

  You mean someone had to get out before we got in?

  He examines the bedclothes.

  I thought these sheets didn’t look too bright. I thought they ponged a bit. I was too tired to notice when I got in this morning. Eh, that’s taking a bit of a liberty, isn’t it? I don’t want to share my bed-sheets. I told you things were going down the drain. I mean, we’ve always had clean sheets kid on up till now. I’ve noticed it.