A that time you went back to look was the ruin still there where you hid as a child that last time straight off the ferry and up the rise to the high street to catch the eleven neither right nor left only one thought in your head not a curse for the old scenes the old names just head down press on up the rise to the top and there stood waiting with the nightbag till the truth began to dawn
C when you started not knowing who you were from Adam trying how that would work for a change not knowing who you were from Adam no notion who it was saying what you were saying whose skull you were clapped up in whose moan had you the way you were was that the time or was that another time there alone with the portraits of the dead black with dirt and antiquity and the dates on the frames in case you might get the century wrong not believing it could be you till they put you out in the rain at closing-time
B no sight of the face or any other part never turned to her nor she to you always parallel like on an axle-tree never turned to each other just blurs on the fringes of the field no touching or anything of that nature always space between if only an inch no pawing in the manner of flesh and blood no better than shades no worse if it wasn’t for the vows
A no getting out to it that way so what next no question of asking not another word to the living as long as you lived so foot it up in the end to the station bowed half double get out to it that way all closed down and boarded up Doric terminus of the Great Southern and Eastern all closed down and the colonnade crumbling away so what next
C the rain and the old rounds trying making it up that way as you went along how it would work that way for a change never having been how never having been would work the old rounds trying to wangle you into it tottering and muttering all over the parish till the words dried up and the head dried up and the legs dried up whosever they were or it gave up whoever it was
B stock still always stock still like that time on the stone or that time in the sand stretched out parallel in the sand in the sun gazing up at the blue or eyes closed blue dark blue dark stock still side by side scene float up and there you were wherever it was
A gave it up gave up and sat down on the steps in the pale morning sun no those steps got no sun somewhere else then gave up and off somewhere else and down on a step in the pale sun a doorstep say someone’s doorstep for it to be time to get on the night ferry and out to hell out of there no need sleep anywhere not a curse for the old scenes the old names the passers pausing to gape at you quick gape then pass pass on pass by on the other side
B stock still side by side in the sun then sink and vanish without your having stirred any more than the two knobs on a dumbbell except the lids and every now and then the lips to vow and all around all still all sides wherever it might be no stir or sound only faintly the leaves in the little wood behind or the ears or the bent or the reeds as the case might be of man no sight of man or beast no sight or sound
C always winter then always raining always slipping in somewhere when no one would be looking in off the street out of the cold and rain in the old green holeproof coat your father left you places you hadn’t to pay to get in like the Public Library that was another great thing free culture far from home or the Post Office that was another another place another time
A huddled on the doorstep in the old green greatcoat in the pale sun with the nightbag needless on your knees not knowing where you were little by little not knowing where you were or when you were or what for place might have been uninhabited for all you knew like that time on the stone the child on the stone where none ever came
[Silence 10 seconds. Breath audible. After 3 seconds eyes open.]
B or alone in the same the same scenes making it up that way to keep it going keep it out on the stone [eyes close] alone on the end of the stone with the wheat and blue or the towpath alone on the towpath with the ghosts of the mules the drowned rat or bird or whatever it was floating off into the sunset till you could see it no more nothing stirring only the water and the sun going down till it went down and you vanished all vanished
A none ever came but the child on the stone among the giant nettles with the light coming in where the wall had crumbled away poring on his book well on into the night some moods the moonlight and they all out on the roads looking for him or making up talk breaking up two or more talking to himself being together that way where none ever came
C always winter then endless winter year after year as if it couldn’t end the old year never end like time could go no further that time in the Post Office all bustle Christmas bustle in off the street when no one was looking out of the cold and rain pushed open the door like anyone else and straight for the table neither right nor left with all the forms and the pens on their chains sat down first vacant seat and were taking a look round for a change before drowsing away
B or that time alone on your back in the sand and no vows to break the peace when was that an earlier time a later time before she came after she went or both before she came after she was gone and you back in the old scene wherever it might be might have been the same old scene before as then then as after with the rat or the wheat the yellowing ears or that time in the sand the glider passing over that time you went back soon after long after
A eleven or twelve in the ruin on the flat stone among the nettles in the dark or moonlight muttering away now one voice now another there was childhood for you till there on the step in the pale sun you heard yourself at it again not a curse for the passers pausing to gape at the scandal huddled there in the sun where it had no warrant clutching the nightbag drooling away out loud eyes closed and the white hair pouring out down from under the hat and so sat on in that pale sun forgetting it all
C perhaps fear of ejection having clearly no warrant in the place to say nothing of the loathsome appearance so this look round for once at your fellow bastards thanking God for once bad and all as you were you were not as they till it dawned that for all the loathing you were getting you might as well not have been there at all the eyes passing over you and through you like so much thin air was that the time or was that another time another place another time
B the glider passing over never any change same blue skies nothing ever changed but she with you there or not on your right hand always the right hand on the fringe of the field and every now and then in the great peace like a whisper so faint she loved you hard to believe you even you made up that bit till the time came in the end
A making it all up on the doorstep as you went along making yourself all up again for the millionth time forgetting it all where you were and what for Foley’s Folly and the lot the child’s ruin you came to look was it still there to hide in again till it was night and time to go till that time came
C the Library that was another place another time that time you slipped in off the street out of the cold and rain when no one was looking what was it then you were never the same after never again after something to do with dust something the dust said sitting at the big round table with a bevy of old ones poring on the page and not a sound
B that time in the end when you tried and couldn’t by the window in the dark and the owl flown to hoot at someone else or back with a shrew to its hollow tree and not another sound hour after hour hour after hour not a sound when you tried and tried and couldn’t any more no words left to keep it out so gave it up gave up there by the window in the dark or moonlight gave up for good and let it in and nothing the worse a great shroud billowing in all over you on top of you and little or nothing the worse little or nothing
A back down to the wharf with the nightbag and the old green greatcoat your father left you trailing the ground and the white hair pouring out down from under the hat till that time came on down neither right nor left not a curse for the old scenes the old names not a thought in your head only get back on board and away to hell out of it and never come back or was that another time all that another time was there ever any other time but that time away to hell out of it all and never come back
C not a sound only the old breath and the leaves turning and then suddenly this dust whole place suddenly full of dust when you opened your eyes from floor to ceiling nothing only dust and not a sound only what was it it said come and gone was that it something like that come and gone come and gone no one come and gone in no time gone in no time
[Silence 10 seconds. Breath audible. After 3 seconds eyes open. After 5 seconds smile, toothless for preference. Hold 5 seconds till fade out and curtain.]
FOOTFALLS
May (M), dishevelled grey hair, worn grey wrap hiding feet, trailing.
Woman’s Voice (V) from dark upstage.
Strip: downstage, parallel with front, length nine steps, width one metre, a little off centre audience right.
Pacing: starting with right foot (r), from right (R) to left (L), with left foot (l) from L to R.
Turn: rightabout at L, left about at R.
Steps: clearly audible rhythmic tread.
Lighting: dim, strongest at floor level, less on body, least on head.
Voices: both low and slow throughout.
Curtain. Stage in darkness.
Faint single chime. Pause as echoes die.
Fade up to dim on strip. Rest in darkness.
M discovered pacing towards L. Turns at L. paces three more
lengths, halts, facing front at R.
Pause.
M Mother. [Pause. No louder.] Mother.
[Pause.]
V Yes, May.
M Were you asleep?
V Deep asleep. [Pause.] I heard you in my deep sleep. [Pause.] There is no sleep so deep I would not hear you there. [Pause. M resumes pacing. Four lengths. After first length, synchronous with steps.] One two three four five six seven wheel one two three four five six seven wheel. [Free.] Will you not try to snatch a little sleep?
[M halts facing front at R. Pause.]
M Would you like me to inject you again?
V Yes, but it is too soon.
[Pause.]
M Would you like me to change your position again?
V Yes, but it is too soon.
[Pause.]
M Straighten your pillows? [Pause.] Change your drawsheet?
[Pause.] Pass you the bedpan? [Pause.] The warming-pan?
[Pause.] Dress your sores? [Pause.] Sponge you down?
[Pause.] Moisten your poor lips? [Pause.] Pray with you?
[Pause.] For you? [Pause.] Again.
[Pause.]
V Yes, but it is too soon.
[Pause.]
M What age am I now?
V And I? [Pause. No louder.] And I?
M Ninety.
V So much?
M Eighty-nine, ninety.
V I had you late. [Pause.] In life. [Pause.] Forgive me again.
[Pause. No louder.] Forgive me again.
[M resumes pacing. After one length halts facing front at L. Pause.]
M What age am I now?
V In your forties.
M So little?
V I’m afraid so. [Pause. M resumes pacing. After first turn at L.] May. [Pause.
No louder.] May.
M [pacing] Yes, Mother.
V Will you never have done? [Pause.] Will you never have done . . . revolving it all?
M [halting] It?
V It all. [Pause.] In your poor mind. [Pause.] It all. [Pause.] It all.
[M resumes pacing. Five seconds. Fade out on strip.
All in darkness. Steps cease.
Pause.
Chime a little fainter. Pause for echoes.
Fade up to a little less on strip. Rest in darkness.
M discovered facing front at R.
Pause.]
V I walk here now. [Pause.] Rather I come and stand. [Pause.] At nightfall.
[Pause.] She fancies she is alone. [Pause.] See how still she stands, how stark, with her face to the wall. [Pause.] How outwardly unmoved. [Pause.] She has not been out since girlhood. [Pause.] Not out since girlhood. [Pause.] Where is she, it may be asked. [Pause.] Why, in the old home, the same where she— [Pause.] The same where she began. [Pause.] Where it began. [Pause.] It all began. [Pause.] But this, this, when did this begin? [Pause.] When other girls of her age were out at . . . lacrosse she was already here. [Pause.] At this. [Pause.] The floor here, now bare, once was— [M begins pacing. Steps a little slower.] But let us watch her move, in silence. [M paces. Towards end of second length.] Watch how feat she wheels. [M turns, paces. Synchronous with steps third length.] Seven, eight, nine, wheel. [M turns at L, paces one more length, halts facing front at B.] I say the floor here, now bare, this strip of floor, once was carpeted, a deep pile. Till one night, while still little more than a child, she called her mother and said, Mother, this is not enough. The mother: Not enough? May—the child’s given name—May: Not enough. The mother: What do you mean, May, not enough, what can you possibly mean, May, not enough? May: I mean, Mother, that I must hear the feet, however faint they fall. The mother: The motion alone is not enough? May: No, Mother, the motion alone is not enough, I must hear the feet, however faint they fall. [Pause. M resumes pacing. With pacing.] Does she still sleep, it may be asked? Yes, some nights she does, in snatches, bows her poor head against the wall and snatches a little sleep. [Pause.] Still speak? Yes, some nights she does, when she fancies none can hear. [Pause.] Tells how it was. [Pause.] Tries to tell how it was. [Pause.] It all. [Pause.] It all.
[M continues pacing. Five seconds. Fade out on strip.
All in darkness, steps cease.
Pause.
Chime a little fainter still. Pause for echoes.
Fade up to a little less still on strip. Rest in darkness.
M discovered facing front at R.
Pause.]
M Sequel. [Pause. Begins pacing. Steps a little slower still. After two lengths halts facing front at R. Pause.] Sequel. A little later, when she was quite forgotten, she began to— [Pause.] A little later, when as though she had never been, it never been, she began to walk. [Pause.] At nightfall. [Pause.] Slip out at nightfall and into the little church by the north door, always locked at that hour, and walk, up and down, up and down, his poor arm. [Pause.] Some nights she would halt, as one frozen by some shudder of the mind, and stand stark still till she could move again. But many also were the nights when she paced without pause, up and down, up and down, before vanishing the way she came. [Pause.] No sound. [Pause.] None at least to be heard. [Pause.] The sem blance. [Pause. Resumes pacing. After two lengths halts facing front at R. Pause.] The semblance. Faint, though by no means invisible, in a certain light. [Pause.] Given the right light. [Pause.] Grey rather than white, a pale shade of grey. [Pause.] Tattered. [Pause.] A tangle of tatters. [Pause.] Watch it pass—[pause]—watch her pass before the candelabrum, how its flames, their light . . . like moon through passing rack. [Pause.] Soon then after she was gone, as though never there, began to walk, up and down, up and down, that poor arm. [Pause.] At nightfall. [Pause.] That is to say, at certain seasons of the year, during Vespers. [Pause.] Necessarily. [Pause. Resumes pacing. After one length halts facing front at L. Pause.] Old Mrs. Winter, whom the reader will remember, old Mrs. Winter, one late autumn Sunday evening, on sitting down to supper with her daughter after worship, after a few half-hearted mouthfuls laid down her knife and fork and bowed her head. What is it, Mother, said the daughter, a most strange girl, though scarcely a girl any more . . . [brokenly] . . . dreadfully un— . . . [Pause. Normal voice.] What is it, Mother, are you not feeling yourself ? [Pause.] Mrs. W. did not at once reply. But finally, raising her head and fixing Amy—the daughter’s given name, as the reader will remember— raising her head and fixing Amy full in the eye she said—[pause]— she murmured, fixing Amy full in the eye she murmured, Amy did you observe anything . . . strange at Evensong? Amy: No, Mother, I did not. Mrs. W: Perhaps it was just my fancy. Amy: Just what exactly, Mother, did you perhaps fancy it was? [Pause.] Just what exactly, Mother, did you perhaps fancy this . . . strange thing was you observed? [Pause.]
Mrs. W: You yourself observed nothing . . . strange? Amy: No, Mother, I myself did not, to put it mildly. Mrs. W: What do you mean, Amy, to put it mildly, what can you possibly mean, Amy, to put it mildly? Amy: I mean, Mother, that to say I observed nothing . . . strange is indeed to put it mildly. For I observed nothing of any kind, strange or otherwise. I saw nothing, heard nothing, of any kind. I was not there. Mrs. W: Not there? Amy: Not there. Mrs. W: But I heard you respond. [Pause.] I heard you say Amen. [Pause.] How could you have responded if you were not there? [Pause.] How could you possibly have said Amen if, as you claim, you were not there? [Pause.] The love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with us all, now, and for evermore. Amen. [Pause.] I heard you distinctly. [Pause. Resumes pacing. After three steps halts without facing front. Long pause. Resumes pacing, halts facing front at R. Long pause.] Amy. [Pause. No louder.] Amy. [Pause.] Yes, Mother. [Pause.] Will you never have done? [Pause.] Will you never have done . . . revolving it all? [Pause.] It? [Pause.] It all. [Pause.] In your poor mind. [Pause.] It all. [Pause.] It all.
[Pause. Fade out on strip. All in darkness.
Pause.
Chime even a little fainter still. Pause for echoes.
Fade up to even a little less still on strip.
No trace of May.
Hold ten seconds.
Fade out.]
Curtain
GHOST TRIO
A play for television
Female Voice (V)
Male Figure (F)
I Pre-action
II Action
III Re-action
Å Room: 6 m × 5 m
1 Door.
2 Window.
3 Mirror.
The Collected Shorter Plays Page 19