Complete Works, Volume II

by Harold Pinter

  Mind what you do now.

  Pause.

  Don't you try anything with me.

  Pause.

  ASTON. I . . . I think it's about time you found somewhere else. I don't think we're hitting it off.

  DAVIES. Find somewhere else?

  ASTON. Yes.

  DAVIES. Me? You talking to me? Not me, man! You!

  ASTON. What?

  DAVIES. You! You better find somewhere else!

  ASTON. I live here. You don't.

  DAVIES. Don't I? Well, I live here. I been offered a job here.

  ASTON. Yes . . . well, I don't think you're really suitable.

  DAVIES. Not suitable? Well, I can tell you, there's someone here thinks I am suitable. And I'll tell you. I'm staying on here as caretaker! Get it! Your brother, he's told me, see, he's told me the job is mine. Mine! So that's where I am. I'm going to be his caretaker.

  ASTON. My brother?

  DAVIES. He's staying, he's going to run this place, and I'm staying with him.

  ASTON. Look. If I give you . . . a few bob you can get down to Sidcup.

  DAVIES. You build your shed first! A few bob! When I can earn a steady wage here! You build your stinking shed first! That's what!

  ASTON stares at him.

  ASTON. That's not a stinking shed.

  Silence.

  ASTON moves to him.

  It's clean. It's all good wood. I'll get it up. No trouble.

  DAVIES. Don't come too near!

  ASTON. You've no reason to call that shed stinking.

  DAVIES points the knife.

  You stink.

  DAVIES. What!

  ASTON. You've been stinking the place out.

  DAVIES. Christ, you say that to me!

  ASTON. For days. That's one reason I can't sleep.

  DAVIES. You call me that! You call me stinking!

  ASTON. You better go.

  DAVIES. I'LL STINK YOU!

  He thrusts his arm out, the arm trembling, the knife pointing at ASTON'S stomach. ASTON does not move. Silence. DAVIES’ arm moves no further. They stand.

  I'll stink you. . . .

  Pause.

  ASTON. Get your stuff.

  DAVIES draws the knife in to his chest, breathing heavily. ASTON goes to DAVIES’ bed, collects his bag and puts a few of DAVIES’ things into it.

  DAVIES. You ain't . . . you ain't got the right . . . Leave that alone, that's mine!

  DAVIES takes the bag and presses the contents down.

  All right . . . I been offered a job here . . . you wait . . . (He puts on his smoking-jacket.) . . you wait . . . your brother . . . he'll sort you out . . . you call me that . . . you call me that . . . no one's ever called me that . . . (He puts oh his overcoat.) You'll be sorry you called me that . . . you ain't heard the last of this . . . (He picks up his bag and goes to the door.) You'll be sorry you called me that. . . .

  He opens the door, ASTON watching him.

  Now I know who I can trust.

  DAVIES goes out. ASTON stands.

  BLACKOUT.

  LIGHTS UP. Early evening.

  Voices on the stairs.

  MICK and DAVIES enter.

  DAVIES. Stink! You hear that! Me! I told you what he said, didn't I? Stink! You hear that? That's what he said to me!

  MICK. Tch, tch, tch.

  DAVIES. That's what he said to me.

  MICK. You don't stink.

  DAVIES. No, sir!

  MICK. If you stank I'd be the first one to tell you.

  DAVIES. I told him, I told him he . . . I said to him, you ain't heard the last of this man! I said, don't you forget your brother. I told him you'd be coming along to sort him out. He don't know what he's started, doing that. Doing that to me. I said to him, I said to him, he'll be along, your brother'll be along, he's got sense, not like you—

  MICK. What do you mean?

  DAVIES. Eh?

  MICK. You saying my brother hasn't got any sense?

  DAVIES. What? What I'm saying is, you got ideas for this place, all this . . . all this decorating, see? I mean, he's got no right to order me about. I take orders from you, I do my caretaking for you, I mean, you look upon me . . . you don't treat me like a lump of dirt . . . we can both . . . we can both see him for what he is.

  Pause.

  MICK. What did he say then, when you told him I'd offered you the job as caretaker?

  DAVIES. He . . . he said . . . he said . . . something about . . . he lived here.

  MICK. Yes, he's got a point, en’ he?

  DAVIES. A point! This is your house, en't? You let him live here!

  MICK. I could tell him to go, I suppose.

  DAVIES. That's what I'm saying.

  MICK. Yes. I could tell him to go. I mean, I'm the landlord. On the other hand, he's the sitting tenant. Giving him notice, you see, what it is, it's a technical matter, that's what it is. It depends how you regard this room. I mean it depends whether you regard this room as furnished or unfurnished. See what I mean?

  DAVIES. No, I don't.

  MICK. All this furniture, you see, in here, it's all his, except the beds, of course. So what it is, it's a fine legal point, that's what it is.

  Pause.

  DAVIES. I tell you he should go back where he come from!

  MICK (turning to look at him). Come from?

  DAVIES. Yes.

  MICK. Where did he come from?

  DAVIES. Well . . . he . . . he. . . .

  MICK. You get a bit out of your depth sometimes, don't you?

  Pause.

  (Rising, briskly.) Well, anyway, as things stand, I don't mind having a go at doing up the place. . . .

  DAVIES. That's what I wanted to hear!

  MICK. No, I don't mind.

  He turns to face DAVIES.

  But you better be as good as you say you are.

  DAVIES. What do you mean?

  MICK. Well, you say you're an interior decorator, you'd better be a good one.

  DAVIES. A what?

  MICK. What do you mean, a what? A decorator. An interior decorator.

  DAVIES. Me? What do you mean? I never touched that. I never been that.

  MICK. You've never what?

  DAVIES. No, no, not me, man. I'm not an interior decorator. I been too busy. Too many other things to do, you see. But I . . . but I could always turn my hand to most things . . . give me . . . give me a bit of time to pick it up.

  MICK. I don't want you to pick it up. I want a first-class experienced interior decorator. I thought you were one.

  DAVIES. Me? Now wait a minute—wait a minute—you got the wrong man.

  MICK. How could I have the wrong man? You're the only man I've spoken to. You're the only man I've told, about my dreams, about my deepest wishes, you're the only one I've told, and I only told you because I understood you were an experienced first-class professional interior and exterior decorator.

  DAVIES. Now look here—

  MICK. You mean you wouldn't know how to fit teal-blue, copper and parchment linoleum squares and have those colours re-echoed in the walls?

  DAVIES. Now, look here, where'd you get—?

  MICK. You wouldn't be able to decorate out a table in afromosia teak veneer, an armchair in oatmeal tweed and a beech frame settee with a woven sea-grass seat?

  DAVIES. I never said it!

  MICK. Christ! I must have been under a false impression!

  DAVIES. I never said it!

  MICK. You're a bloody impostor, mate!

  DAVIES. Now you don't want to say that sort of thing to me. You took me on here as caretaker. I was going to give you a helping hand, that's all, for a small . . . for a small wage, I never said nothing about that . . . you start calling me names—

  MICK. What is your name?

  DAVIES. Don't start that—

  MICK. No, what's your real name?

  DAVIES. My real name's Davies.

  MICK. What's the name you go under?

  DAVIES. Jenkins!
>
  MICK. You got two names. What about the rest? Eh? Now come on, why did you tell me all this dirt about you being an interior decorator?

  DAVIES. I didn't tell you nothing! Won't you listen to what I'm saying?

  Pause.

  It was him who told you. It was your brother who must have told you. He's nutty! He'd tell you anything, out of spite, he's nutty, he's half way gone, it was him who told you.

  MICK walks slowly to him.

  MICK. What did you call my brother?

  DAVIES. When?

  MICK. He's what?

  DAVIES. I . . . now get this straight. . . .

  MICK. Nutty? Who's nutty?

  Pause.

  Did you call my brother nutty? My brother. That's a bit of . . . that's a bit of an impertinent thing to say, isn't it?

  DAVIES. But he says so himself!

  MICK walks slowly round DAVIES’ figure, regarding him, once. He circles him, once.

  MICK. What a strange man you are. Aren't you? You're really strange. Ever since you come into this house there's been nothing but trouble. Honest. I can take nothing you say at face value. Every word you speak is open to any number of different interpretations. Most of what you say is lies. You're violent, you're erratic, you're just completely unpredictable. You're nothing else but a wild animal, when you come down to it. You're a barbarian. And to put the old tin lid on it, you stink from arse-hole to breakfast time. Look at it. You come here recommending yourself as an interior decorator, where-upon I take you on, and what happens? You make a long speech about all the references you've got down at Sidcup, and what happens? I haven't noticed you go down to Sidcup to obtain them. It's all most regrettable but it looks as though I'm compelled to pay you off for your caretaking work. Here's half a dollar.

  He feels in his pocket, takes out a half-crown and tosses it at DAVIES’ feet. DAVIES stands still. MICK walks to the gas stove and picks up the Buddha.

  DAVIES (slowly). All right then . . . you do that . . . you do it . . . if that's what you want. . . .

  MICK. THAT'S WHAT I WANT!

  He hurls the Buddha against the gas stove. It breaks.

  (Passionately.) Anyone would think this house was all I got to worry about. I got plenty of other things I can worry about. I've got other things. I've got plenty of other interests. I've got my own business to build up, haven't I? I got to think about expanding . . . in all directions. I don't stand still. I'm moving about, all the time. I'm moving . . . all the time. I've got to think about the future. I'm not worried about this house. I'm not interested. My brother can worry about it. He can do it up, he can decorate it, he can do what he likes with it. I'm not bothered. I thought I was doing him a favour, letting him live here. He's got his own ideas. Let him have them. I'm going to chuck it in.

  Pause.

  DAVIES. What about me?

  Silence. MICK does not look at him.

  A door bangs.

  Silence. They do not move.

  ASTON comes in. He closes the door, moves into the room and faces MICK. They look at each other. Both are smiling, faintly.

  MICK (beginning to speak to ASTON). Look. . . uh . . . He stops, goes to the door and exits. ASTON leaves the door open, crosses behind DAVIES, sees the broken Buddha, and looks at the pieces for a moment. He then goes to his bed, takes off his overcoat, sits, takes the screwdriver and plug and pokes the plug.

  DAVIES. I just come back for my pipe.

  ASTON. Oh yes.

  DAVIES. I got out and . . . halfway down I . . . I suddenly . . . found out . . . you see . . . that I hadn't got my pipe. So I come back to get it. . . .

  Pause. He moves to ASTON.

  That ain't the same plug, is it, you been . . .?

  Pause.

  Still can't get anywhere with it, eh?

  Pause.

  Well, if you . . . persevere, in my opinion, you'll probably . . .

  Pause.

  Listen. . . .

  Pause.

  You didn't mean that, did you, about me stinking, did you?

  Pause.

  Did you? You been a good friend to me. You took me in. You took me in, you didn't ask me no questions, you give me a bed, you been a mate to me. Listen. I been thinking, why I made all them noises, it was because of the draught, see, that draught was on me as I was sleeping, made me make noises without me knowing it, so I been thinking, what I mean to say, if you was to give me your bed, and you have my bed, there's not all that difference between them, they're the same sort of bed, if I was to have yourn, you sleep, wherever bed you're in, so you have mine, I have yourn, and that'll be all right, I'll be out of the draught, see, I mean, you don't mind a bit of wind, you need a bit of air, I can understand that, you being in that place that time, with all them doctors and all they done, closed up, I know them places, too hot, you see, they're always too hot, I had a peep in one once, nearly suffocated me, so I reckon that'd be the best way out of it, we swap beds, and then we could get down to what we was saying, I'd look after the place for you, I'd keep an eye on it for you, for you, like, not for the other . . . not for . . . for your brother, you see, not for him, for you, I'll be your man, you say the word, just say the word. . . .

  Pause.

  What do you think of this I'm saying?

  Pause.

  ASTON. No, I like sleeping in this bed.

  DAVIES. But you don't understand my meaning!

  ASTON. Anyway, that one's my brother's bed.

  DAVIES. Your brother?

  ASTON. Any time he stays here. This is my bed. It's the only bed I can sleep in.

  DAVIES. But your brother's gone! He's gone!

  Pause.

  ASTON. No. I couldn't change beds.

  DAVIES. But you don't understand my meaning!

  ASTON. Anyway, I'm going to be busy. I've got that shed to get up. If I don't get it up now it'll never go up. Until it's up I can't get started.

  DAVIES. I'll give you a hand to put up your shed, that's what I'll do!

  Pause.

  I'll give you a hand! We'll both put up that shed together! See? Get it done in next to no time! Do you see what I'm saying?

  Pause.

  ASTON. No. I can get it up myself.

  DAVIES. But listen. I'm with you, I'll be here, I'll do it for you!

  Pause.

  We'll do it together!

  Pause.

  Christ, well change beds!

  ASTON moves to the window and stands with his back to DAVIES.

  You mean you're throwing me out? You can't do that. Listen man, listen man, I don't mind, you see, I don't mind, I'll stay, I don't mind, I'll tell you what, if you don't want to change beds, we'll keep it as it is, I'll stay in the same bed, maybe if I can get a stronger piece of sacking, like, to go over the window, keep out the draught, that'll do it, what do you say, we'll keep it as it is?

  Pause.

  ASTON. No.

  DAVIES. Why . . . not?

  ASTON turns to look at him.

  ASTON. You make too much noise.

  DAVIES. But . . . but . . . look . . . listen . . . listen here . . . I mean. . . .

  ASTON turns back to the window.

  What am I going to do?

  Pause.

  What shall I do?

  Pause.

  Where am I going to go?

  Pause.

  If you want me to go . . . I'll go. You just say the word.

  Pause.

  I'll tell you what though . . . them shoes . . . them shoes you give me . . . they're working out all right . . . they're all right. Maybe I could . . . get down. . . .

  ASTON remains still, his back to him, at the window.

  Listen . . . if I . . . got down . . . if I was to . . . get my papers . . . would you . . . would you let . . . would you . . . if I got down . . . and got my. . . .

  Long silence.

  Curtain.

  The Dwarfs

  The Dwarfs was first performed on the B.B.C. Third Programme on 2 D
ecember, 1960 with the following cast:

  LEN Richard Pasco

  PETE Jon Rollason

  MARK Alex Scott

  Produced by Barbara Bray

  The play was first presented in a new version for the stage by Michael Codron and David Hall at the New Arts Theatre, London, on 18 September, 1963 with the following cast:

  LEN John Hurt

  PETE Philip Bond

  MARK Michael Forrest

  Directed by Harold Pinter

  assisted by Guy Vaesen

  The two main areas are:

  1. a room in LEN’S house. Solid middle-European furniture. Piles of books. A small carved table with a chenille cloth, a bowl of fruit, books. Two marquetry chairs. A hanging lamp with dark shade.

  2. the living room in MARK'S flat. Quite modern. Comfortable. Two armchairs and a coffee table.

  There is also a central downstage area of isolation and, for a short scene later in the play, a bed in a hospital, upstage on a higher level.

  LEN, PETE and MARK are all in their late twenties.

  MARK'S room, midnight. Lamps are alight. Two cups and saucers, a sugar-bowl and a teapot are on a tray on the coffee table.

  PETE is sitting, reading.

  LEN is playing a recorder. The sound is fragmentary.

  LEN: Pete.

  PETE: What?

  LEN: Come here.

  PETE: What?

  LEN: What's the matter with this recorder? [He pulls recorder in half, looks down, blows, taps.] There's something wrong with this recorder.

  PETE: Let's have some tea.

  LEN: I can't do a thing with it.

  [Re-assembles recorder. Another attempt to play.]

  Where's the milk?

  [He puts recorder on tray.]

  PETE: You were going to bring it.

  LEN: That's right.

  PETE: Well, where is it?

  LEN: I forgot it. Why didn't you remind me?

  PETE: Give me the cup.

  LEN: What do we do now?

  PETE: Give me the tea.

  LEN: Without milk?

  PETE: There isn't any milk.

  LEN: What about sugar? [Moving towards door.] He must have a pint of milk somewhere. [He exits to kitchen. Noise of opening cupboards etc. He reappears with a couple of gherkins in a jar.] Here's a couple of gherkins. What about a gherkin? [Takes jar to PETE.] Fancy a gherkin. [PETE sniffs, looks up in disgust. LEN sniffs and exits.] Wait a minute. [Kitchen noises, LEN reappears with a bottle of milk.] Ah! Here we are. I knew he'd have a pint laid on. [Pressing the top.] Uuh! Uuuhh . . . It's stiff.