Complete Works, Volume II

by Harold Pinter

  ASTON picks up a screwdriver and plug from the bed and begins to poke the plug.

  DAVIES (with great feeling). If only the weather would break! Then I'd be able to get down to Sidcup!

  ASTON. Sidcup?

  DAVIES. The weather's so blasted bloody awful, how can I get down to Sidcup in these shoes?

  ASTON. Why do you want to get down to Sidcup?

  DAVIES. I got my papers there!

  Pause.

  ASTON. Your what?

  DAVIES. I got my papers there!

  Pause.

  ASTON. What are they doing at Sidcup?

  DAVIES. A man I know has got them. I left them with him. You see? They prove who I am! I can't move without them papers. They tell you who I am. You see! I'm stuck without them.

  ASTON. Why's that?

  DAVIES. You see, what it is, you see, I changed my name! Years ago. I been going around under an assumed name! That's not my real name.

  ASTON. What name you been going under?

  DAVIES. Jenkins. Bernard Jenkins. That's my name. That's the name I'm known, anyway. But it's no good me going on with that name. I got no rights. I got an insurance card here. (He takes a card from his pocket.) Under the name of Jenkins. See? Bernard Jenkins. Look. It's got four stamps on it. Four of them. But I can't go along with these. That's not my real name, they'd find out, they'd have me in the nick. Four stamps. I haven't paid out pennies. I've paid out pounds. I've paid out pounds, not pennies. There's been other stamps, plenty, but they haven't put them on, the nigs, I never had enough time to go into it.

  ASTON. They should have stamped your card.

  DAVIES. It would have done no good! I'd have got nothing anyway. That's not my real name. If I take that card along I go in the nick.

  ASTON. What's your real name, then?

  DAVIES. Davies. Mac Davies. That was before I changed my name.

  Pause.

  ASTON. It looks as though you want to sort all that out.

  DAVIES. If only I could get down to Sidcup! I've been waiting for the weather to break. He's got my papers, this man I left them with, it's got it all down there, I could prove everything.

  ASTON. How long's he had them?

  DAVIES. What?

  ASTON. How long's he had them?

  DAVIES. Oh, must be . . . it was in the war . . . must be . . . about near on fifteen year ago.

  He suddenly becomes aware of the bucket and looks up.

  ASTON. Any time you want to . . . get into bed, just get in. Don't worry about me.

  DAVIES (taking off his overcoat). Eh, well, I think I will. I'm a bit . . . a bit done in. (He steps out of his trousers, and holds them out.) Shall I put these on here?

  ASTON. Yes.

  DAVIES puts the coat and trousers on the clothes horse.

  DAVIES. I see you got a bucket up here.

  ASTON. Leak.

  DAVIES looks up.

  DAVIES. Well, I'll try your bed then. You getting in?

  ASTON. I'm mending this plug.

  DAVIES looks at him and then at the gas stove.

  DAVIES. You . . . you can't move this, eh?

  ASTON. Bit heavy.

  DAVIES. Yes.

  DAVIES gets into bed. He tests his weight and length.

  Not bad. Not bad. A fair bed. I think I'll sleep in this.

  ASTON. I'll have to fix a proper shade on that bulb. The light's a bit glaring.

  DAVIES. Don't you worry about that, mister, don't you worry about that. (He turns and puts the cover up.)

  ASTON sits, poking his plug.

  The LIGHTS FADE OUT. Darkness.

  LIGHTS UP. Morning.

  ASTON is fastening his trousers, standing by the bed. He straightens his bed. He turns, goes to the centre of the room

  and looks at DAVIES. He turns, puts his jacket on, turns, goes towards DAVIES and looks down on him.

  He coughs. DAVIES sits up abruptly.

  DAVIES. What? What's this? What's this?

  ASTON. It's all right.

  DAVIES (staring). What's this?

  ASTON. It's all right.

  DAVIES looks about.

  DAVIES. Oh, yes.

  ASTON goes to his bed, picks up the plug and shakes it.

  ASTON. Sleep well?

  DAVIES. Yes. Dead out. Must have been dead out.

  ASTON goes downstage right, collects the toaster and examines it.

  ASTON. You . . . er. . . .

  DAVIES. Eh?

  ASTON. Were you dreaming or something?

  DAVIES. Dreaming?

  ASTON. Yes.

  DAVIES. I don't dream. I've never dreamed.

  ASTON. No, nor have I.

  DAVIES. Nor me.

  Pause.

  Why you ask me that, then?

  ASTON. You were making noises.

  DAVIES. Who was?

  ASTON. You were.

  DAVIES gets out of bed. He wears long underpants.

  DAVIES. Now, wait a minute. Wait a minute, what do you mean? What kind of noises?

  ASTON. You were making groans. You were jabbering.

  DAVIES. Jabbering? Me?

  ASTON. Yes.

  DAVIES. I don't jabber, man. Nobody ever told me that before.

  Pause.

  What would I be jabbering about?

  ASTON. I don't know.

  DAVIES. I mean, where's the sense in it?

  Pause.

  Nobody ever told me that before.

  Pause.

  You got hold of the wrong bloke, mate.

  ASTON (crossing to the bed with the toaster). No. You woke me up. I thought you might have been dreaming.

  DAVIES. I wasn't dreaming. I never had a dream in my life.

  Pause.

  ASTON. Maybe it was the bed.

  DAVIES. Nothing wrong with this bed.

  ASTON. Might be a bit unfamiliar.

  DAVIES. There's nothing unfamiliar about me with beds. I slept in beds. I don't make noises just because I sleep in a bed. I slept in plenty of beds.

  Pause.

  I tell you what, maybe it were them Blacks.

  ASTON. What?

  DAVIES. Them noises.

  ASTON. What Blacks?

  DAVIES. Them you got. Next door. Maybe it were them Blacks making noises, coming up through the walls.

  ASTON. Hmmnn.

  DAVIES. That's my opinion.

  ASTON puts down the plug and moves to the door.

  Where you going, you going out?

  ASTON. Yes.

  DAVIES (seizing the sandals). Wait a minute then, just a minute.

  ASTON. What you doing?

  DAVIES (putting on the sandals). I better come with you.

  ASTON. Why?

  DAVIES. I mean, I better come out with you, anyway.

  ASTON. Why?

  DAVIES. Well . . . don't you want me to go out?

  ASTON. What for?

  DAVIES. I mean . . . when you're out. Don't you want me to get out . . . when you're out?

  ASTON. You don't have to go out.

  DAVIES. You mean . . . I can stay here?

  ASTON. Do what you like. You don't have to come out just because I go out.

  DAVIES. You don't mind me staying here?

  ASTON. I've got a couple of keys. (He goes to a box by his bed and finds them.) This door and the front door. (He hands them to DAVIES.)

  DAVIES. Thanks very much, the best of luck.

  Pause. ASTON stands.

  ASTON. I think I'll take a stroll down the road. A little . . . kind of a shop. Man there'd got a jig saw the other day. I quite liked the look of it.

  DAVIES. A jig saw, mate?

  ASTON. Yes. Could be very useful.

  DAVIES. Yes.

  Slight pause.

  What's that then, exactly, then?

  ASTON walks up to the window and looks out.

  ASTON. A jig saw? Well, it comes from the same family as the fret saw. But it's an appliance, you see. You have to fix it on to a portable
drill.

  DAVIES. Ah, that's right. They're very handy.

  ASTON. They are, yes.

  Pause.

  You know, I was sitting in a café the other day. I happened to be sitting at the same table as this woman. Well, we started to . . . we started to pick up a bit of a conversation. I don't know . . . about her holiday, it was, where she'd been. She'd been down to the south coast. I can't remember where though. Anyway, we were just sitting there, having this bit of a conversation . . . then suddenly she put her hand over to mine . . . and she said, how would you like me to have a look at your body?

  DAVIES. Get out of it.

  Pause.

  ASTON. Yes. To come out with it just like that, in the middle of this conversation. Struck me as a bit odd.

  DAVIES. They've said the same thing to me.

  ASTON. Have they?

  DAVIES. Women? There's many a time they've come up to me and asked me more or less the same question.

  Pause.

  ASTON. What did you say your name was?

  DAVIES. Bernard Jenkins is my assumed one.

  ASTON. No, your other one?

  DAVIES. Davies. Mac Davies.

  ASTON. Welsh, are you?

  DAVIES. Eh?

  ASTON. You Welsh?

  Pause.

  DAVIES. Well, I been around, you know . . . what I mean . . . I been about. . . .

  ASTON. Where were you born then?

  DAVIES (darkly). What do you mean?

  ASTON. Where were you born?

  DAVIES. I was . . . uh . . . oh, it's a bit hard, like, to set your mind back . . . see what I mean . . . going back . . . a good way . . . lose a bit of track, like . . . you know. . . .

  ASTON (going to below the fireplace). See this plug? Switch it on here, if you like. This little fire.

  DAVIES. Right, mister.

  ASTON. Just plug in here.

  DAVIES. Right, mister.

  ASTON goes towards the door.

  (Anxiously). What do I do?

  ASTON. Just switch it on, that's all. The fire'll come on.

  DAVIES. I tell you what. I won't bother about it.

  ASTON. No trouble.

  DAVIES. No, I don't go in for them things much.

  ASTON. Should work. (Turning.) Right.

  DAVIES. Eh, I was going to ask you, mister, what about this stove? I mean, do you think it's going to be letting out any . . . what do you think?

  ASTON. It's not connected.

  DAVIES. You see, the trouble is, it's right on top of my bed, you see? What I got to watch is nudging . . . one of them gas taps with my elbow when I get up, you get my meaning?

  He goes round to the other side of stove and examines it.

  ASTON. There's nothing to worry about.

  DAVIES. Now look here, don't you worry about it. All I'll do, I'll keep an eye on these taps every now and again, like, you see. See they're switched off. You leave it to me.

  ASTON. I don't think . . . .

  DAVIES (coming round). Eh, mister, just one thing . . . eh . . . you couldn't slip me a couple of bob, for a cup of tea, just, you know?

  ASTON. I gave you a few bob last night.

  DAVIES. Eh, so you did. So you did. I forgot. Went clean out of my mind. That's right. Thank you, mister. Listen. You're sure now, you're sure you don't mind me staying here? I mean, I'm not the sort of man who wants to take any liberties.

  ASTON. No, that's all right.

  DAVIES. I might get down to Wembley later on in the day.

  ASTON. Uh-uh.

  DAVIES. There's a caff down there, you see, might be able to get fixed up there. I was there, see? I know they were a bit short-handed. They might be in the need of a bit of staff.

  ASTON. When was that?

  DAVIES. Eh? Oh, well, that was . . . near on . . . that'll be . . . that'll be a little while ago now. But of course what it is, they can't find the right kind of people in these places. What they want to do, they're trying to do away with these foreigners, you see, in catering. They want an Englishman to pour their tea, that's what they want, that's what they're crying out for. It's only common sense, en't? Oh, I got all that under way . . . that's . . . uh . . . that's . . . what I'll be doing.

  Pause.

  If only I could get down there.

  ASTON. Mmnn. (ASTON moves to the door.) Well, I'll be seeing you then.

  DAVIES. Yes. Right.

  ASTON goes out and closes the door.

  DAVIES stands still. He waits a few seconds, then goes to the door, opens it, looks out, closes it, stands with his back to it, turns swiftly, opens it, looks out, comes back, closes the door, finds the keys in his pocket, tries one, tries the other, locks the door. He looks about the room. He then goes quickly to ASTON'S bed, bends, brings out the pair of shoes and examines them.

  Not a bad pair of shoes. Bit pointed.

  He puts them back under the bed. He examines the area by ASTON'S bed, picks up a vase and looks into it, then picks up a box and shakes it.

  Screws!

  He sees paint buckets at the top of the bed, goes to them, and examines them.

  Paint. What's he going to paint?

  He puts the bucket down, comes to the centre of the room, looks up at bucket, and grimaces.

  I'll have to find out about that. (He crosses right, and picks up a blow-lamp.) He's got some stuff in here. (He picks up the Buddha and looks at it.) Full of stuff. Look at all this. (His eye falls on the piles of papers.) What's he got all those papers for? Damn pile of papers.

  He goes to a pile and touches it. The pile wobbles. He steadies it.

  Hold it, hold it!

  He holds the pile and pushes the papers back into place.

  The door opens.

  MICK comes in, puts the key in his pocket, and closes the door silently. He stands at the door and watches DAVIES.

  What's he got all these papers for? (DAVIES climbs over the rolled carpet to the blue case.) Had a sheet and pillow ready in here. (He opens the case.) Nothing. (He shuts the case.) Still, I had a sleep though. I don't make no noises. (He looks at the window.) What's this?

  He picks up another case and tries to open it. MICK moves upstage, silently.

  Locked. (He puts it down and moves downstage.) Must be something in it. (He picks up a sideboard drawer, rummages in the contents, then puts it down.)

  MICK slides across the room.

  DAVIES half turns, MICK seizes his arm and forces it up his back, DAVIES screams.

  Uuuuuuuhhh! Uuuuuuuhhh! What! What! What! Uuuuuuuhhh!

  MICK swiftly forces him to the floor, with DAVIES struggling, grimacing, whimpering and staring.

  MICK holds his arm, puts his other hand to his lips, then puts his hand to DAVIES’ lips. DAVIES quietens. MICK lets him go. DAVIES writhes. MICK holds out a warning finger. He then squats down to regard DAVIES. He regards him, then stands looking down on him. DAVIES massages his arm, watching MICK. MICK turns slowly to look at the room. He goes to DAVIES’ bed and uncovers it. He turns, goes to the clothes horse and picks up DAVIES’ trousers. DAVIES starts to rise. MICK presses him down with his foot and stands over him. Finally he removes his foot. He examines the trousers and throws them back. DAVIES remains on the floor, crouched. MICK slowly goes to the chair, sits, and watches DAVIES, expressionless.

  Silence.

  MICK. What's the game?

  Curtain.

  Act Two

  A few seconds later.

  MICK is seated, DAVIES on the floor, half seated, crouched. Silence.

  MICK. Well?

  DAVIES. Nothing, nothing. Nothing.

  A drip sounds in the bucket overhead. They look up. MICK looks back to DAVIES.

  MICK. What's your name?

  DAVIES. I don't know you. I don't know who you are.

  Pause.

  MICK. Eh?

  DAVIES. Jenkins.

  MICK. Jenkins?

  DAVIES. Yes.

  MICK. Jen . . . kins.

  Pause.

/>   You sleep here last night?

  DAVIES. Yes.

  MICK. Sleep well?

  DAVIES. Yes.

  MICK. I'm awfully glad. It's awfully nice to meet you.

  Pause.

  What did you say your name was?

  DAVIES. Jenkins.

  MICK. I beg your pardon?

  DAVIES. Jenkins!

  Pause.

  MICK. Jen . . . kins.

  A drip sounds in the bucket. DAVIES looks up.

  You remind me of my uncle's brother. He was always on the move, that man. Never without his passport. Had an eye for the girls. Very much your build. Bit of an athlete. Long-jump specialist. He had a habit of demonstrating different run-ups in the drawing-room round about Christmas time. Had a penchant for nuts. That's what it was. Nothing else but a penchant. Couldn't eat enough of them. Peanuts, walnuts, brazil nuts, monkey nuts, wouldn't touch a piece of fruit cake. Had a marvellous stop-watch. Picked it up in Hong Kong. The day after they chucked him out of the Salvation Army. Used to go in number four for Beckenham Reserves. That was before he got his Gold Medal. Had a funny habit of carrying his fiddle on his back. Like a papoose. I think there was a bit of the Red Indian in him. To be honest, I've never made out how he came to be my uncle's brother. I've often thought that maybe it was the other way round. I mean that my uncle was his brother and he was my uncle. But I never called him uncle. As a matter of fact I called him Sid. My mother called him Sid too. It was a funny business. Your spitting image he was. Married a Chinaman and went to Jamaica.

  Pause.

  I hope you slept well last night.

  DAVIES. Listen! I don't know who you are!

  MICK. What bed you sleep in?

  DAVIES. Now look here—

  MICK. Eh?

  DAVIES. That one.

  MICK. Not the other one?

  DAVIES. No.

  MICK. Choosy.

  Pause.

  How do you like my room?

  DAVIES. Your room?

  MICK. Yes.

  DAVIES. This ain't your room. I don't know who you are. I ain't never seen you before.

  MICK. You know, believe it or not, you've got a funny kind of resemblance to a bloke I once knew in Shoreditch. Actually he lived in Aldgate. I was staying with a cousin in Camden Town. This chap, he used to have a pitch in Finsbury Park, just by the bus depot. When I got to know him I found out he was brought up in Putney. That didn't make any difference to me. I know quite a few people who were born in Putney. Even if they weren't born in Putney they were born in Fulham. The only trouble was, he wasn't born in Putney, he was only brought up in Putney. It turned out he was born in the Caledonian Road, just before you get to the Nag's Head. His old mum was still living at the Angel. All the buses passed right by the door. She could get a 38, 581, 30 or 38A, take her down the Essex Road to Dalston Junction in next to no time. Well, of course, if she got the 30 he'd take her up Upper Street way, round by Highbury Corner and down to St. Paul's Church, but she'd get to Dalston Junction just the same in the end. I used to leave my bike in her garden on my way to work. Yes, it was a curious affair. Dead spit of you he was. Bit bigger round the nose but there was nothing in it.