Complete Works, Volume II
Page 13
RICHARD (amiably). Is your lover coming today?
SARAH. Mmnn.
RICHARD. What time?
SARAH. Three.
RICHARD. Will you be going out . . . or staying in?
SARAH. Oh . . . I think we'll stay in.
RICHARD. I thought you wanted to go to that exhibition.
SARAH. I did, yes . . . but I think I'd prefer to stay in with him today.
RICHARD. Mmn-hmmn. Well, I must be off.
He goes to the hall and puts on his bowler hat.
RICHARD. Will he be staying long do you think?
SARAH. Mmmnnn . . .
RICHARD. About . . . six, then.
SARAH. Yes.
RICHARD. Have a pleasant afternoon.
SARAH. Mmnn.
RICHARD. Bye-bye.
SARAH. Bye.
He opens the front door and goes out. She continues dusting.
The lights fade.
Fade up. Early evening. SARAH comes into room from kitchen. She wears the same dress, but is now wearing a pair of very high-heeled shoes. She pours a drink and sits on chaise longue with magazine. There are six chimes of the clock. RICHARD comes in the front door. He wears a sober suit, as in the morning. He puts his briefcase down in the hall and goes into the room. She smiles at him and pours him a whisky.
Hullo.
RICHARD. Hullo.
He kisses her on the cheek. Takes glass, hands her the evening paper and sits down left. She sits on chaise longue with paper.
Thanks.
He drinks, sits back and sighs with contentment.
Aah.
SARAH. Tired?
RICHARD. Just a little.
SARAH. Bad traffic?
RICHARD. No. Quite good traffic, actually.
SARAH. Oh, good.
RICHARD. Very smooth.
Pause.
SARAH. It seemed to me you were just a little late.
RICHARD. Am I?
SARAH. Just a little.
RICHARD. There was a bit of a jam on the bridge.
SARAH gets up, goes to drinks table to collect her glass, sits again on the chaise longue.
Pleasant day?
SARAH. Mmn. I was in the village this morning.
RICHARD. Oh yes? See anyone?
SARAH. Not really, no. Had lunch.
RICHARD. In the village?
SARAH. Yes.
RICHARD. Any good?
SARAH. Quite fair. (She sits.)
RICHARD. What about this afternoon? Pleasant afternoon?
SARAH. Oh yes. Quite marvellous.
RICHARD. Your lover came, did he?
SARAH. Mmnn. Oh yes.
RICHARD. Did you show him the hollyhocks?
Slight pause.
SARAH. The hollyhocks?
RICHARD. Yes.
SARAH. No, I didn't.
RICHARD. Oh.
SARAH. Should I have done?
RICHARD. No, no. It's simply that I seem to remember your saying he was interested in gardening.
SARAH. Mmnn, yes, he is.
Pause.
Not all that interested, actually.
RICHARD. Ah.
Pause.
Did you go out at all, or did you stay in?
SARAH. We stayed in.
RICHARD. Ah. (He looks up at the Venetian blinds.) That blind hasn't been put up properly.
SARAH. Yes, it is a bit crooked, isn't it?
Pause.
RICHARD. Very sunny on the road. Of course, by the time I got on to it the sun was beginning to sink. But I imagine it was quite warm here this afternoon. It was warm in the City.
SARAH. Was it?
RICHARD. Pretty stifling. I imagine it was quite warm everywhere.
SARAH. Quite a high temperature, I believe.
RICHARD. Did it say so on the wireless?
SARAH. I think it did, yes.
Slight pause.
RICHARD. One more before dinner?
SARAH. Mmn.
He pours drinks.
RICHARD. I see you had the Venetian blinds down.
SARAH. We did, yes.
RICHARD. The light was terribly strong.
SARAH. It was. Awfully strong.
RICHARD. The trouble with this room is that it catches the sun so directly, when it's shining. You didn't move to another room?
SARAH. No. We stayed here.
RICHARD. Must have been blinding.
SARAH. It was. That's why we put the blinds down.
Pause.
RICHARD. The thing is it gets so awfully hot in here with the blinds down.
SARAH. Would you say so?
RICHARD. Perhaps not. Perhaps it's just that you feel hotter.
SARAH. Yes. That's probably it.
Pause.
What did you do this afternoon?
RICHARD. Long meeting. Rather inconclusive.
SARAH. It's a cold supper. Do you mind?
RICHARD. Not in the least.
SARAH. I didn't seem to have time to cook anything today.
She moves towards the kitchen.
RICHARD. Oh, by the way . . . I rather wanted to ask you something.
SARAH. What?
RICHARD. Does it ever occur to you that while you're spending the afternoon being unfaithful to me I'm sitting at a desk going through balance sheets and graphs?
SARAH. What a funny question.
RICHARD. No, I'm curious.
SARAH. You've never asked me that before.
RICHARD. I've always wanted to know.
Slight pause.
SARAH. Well, of course it occurs to me.
RICHARD. Oh, it does?
SARAH. Mmnn.
Slight pause.
RICHARD. What's your attitude to that, then?
SARAH. It makes it all the more piquant.
RICHARD. Does it really?
SARAH. Of course.
RICHARD. You mean while you're with him . . . you actually have a picture of me, sitting at my desk going through balance sheets?
SARAH. Only at . . . certain times.
RICHARD. Of course.
SARAH. Not all the time.
RICHARD. Well, naturally.
SARAH. At particular moments.
RICHARD. Mmnn. But, in fact, I'm not completely forgotten?
SARAH. Not by any means.
RICHARD. That's rather touching, I must admit.
Pause.
SARAH. How could I forget you?
RICHARD. Quite easily, I should think.
SARAH. But I'm in your house.
RICHARD. With another.
SARAH. But it's you I love.
RICHARD. I beg your pardon?
SARAH. But it's you I love.
Pause. He looks at her, proffers his glass.
RICHARD. Let's have another drink.
She moves forward. He withdraws his glass, looks at her shoes.
What shoes are they?
SARAH. Mmnn?
RICHARD. Those shoes. They're unfamiliar. Very high-heeled, aren't they?
SARAH (muttering). Mistake. Sorry.
RICHARD (not hearing). Sorry? I beg your pardon?
SARAH. I'll . . . take them off.
RICHARD. Not quite the most comfortable shoes for an evening at home, I would have thought.
She goes into hall, opens cupboard, puts high-heeled shoes into cupboard, puts on low-heeled shoes. He moves to drinks table, pours himself a drink. She moves to centre table, lights a cigarette.
So you had a picture of me this afternoon, did you, sitting in my office?
SARAH. I did, yes. It wasn't a terribly convincing one, though.
RICHARD. Oh, why not?
SARAH. Because I knew you weren't there. I knew you were with your mistress.
Pause.
RICHARD. Was I?
Short pause.
SARAH. Aren't you hungry?
RICHARD. I had a heavy lunch.
SARAH. How heavy?
He stands at
the window.
RICHARD. What a beautiful sunset.
SARAH. Weren't you?
He turns and laughs.
RICHARD. What mistress?
SARAH. Oh, Richard . . .
RICHARD. No, no, it's simply the word that's so odd.
SARAH. Is it? Why?
Slight pause.
I'm honest with you, aren't I? Why can't you be honest with me?
RICHARD. But I haven't got a mistress. I'm very well acquainted with a whore, but I haven't got a mistress. There's a world of difference.
SARAH. A whore?
RICHARD (taking an olive). Yes. Just a common or garden slut. Not worth talking about. Handy between trains, nothing more.
SARAH. You don't travel by train. You travel by car.
RICHARD. Quite. A quick cup of cocoa while they're checking the oil and water.
Pause.
SARAH. Sounds utterly sterile
RICHARD. No.
Pause.
SARAH. I must say I never expected you to admit it so readily.
RICHARD. Oh, why not? You've never put it to me so bluntly before, have you? Frankness at all costs. Essential to a healthy marriage. Don't you agree?
SARAH. Of course.
RICHARD. You agree.
SARAH. Entirely.
RICHARD. I mean, you're utterly frank with me, aren't you?
SARAH. Utterly.
RICHARD. About your lover. I must follow your example.
SARAH. Thank you.
Pause.
Yes, I have suspected it for some time.
RICHARD. Have you really?
SARAH. Mmnn.
RICHARD. Perceptive.
SARAH. But, quite honestly, I can't really believe she's just . . . what you say.
RICHARD. Why not?
SARAH. It's just not possible. You have such taste. You care so much for grace and elegance in women.
RICHARD. And wit.
SARAH. And wit, yes.
RICHARD. Wit, yes. Terribly important, wit, for a man.
SARAH. Is she witty?
RICHARD (laughing). These terms just don't apply. You can't sensibly inquire whether a whore is witty. It's of no significance whether she is or she isn't. She's simply a whore, a functionary who either pleases or displeases.
SARAH. And she pleases you?
RICHARD. Today she is pleasing. Tomorrow . . .? One can't say.
He moves towards the bedroom door taking off his jacket.
SARAH. I must say I find your attitude to women rather alarming.
RICHARD. Why? I wasn't looking for your double, was I? I wasn't looking for a woman I could respect, as you, whom I could admire and love, as I do you. Was I? All I wanted was . . . how shall I put it . . . someone who could express and engender lust with all lust's cunning. Nothing more.
He goes into the bedroom, hangs his jacket up in the wardrobe, and changes into his slippers.
In the living-room SARAH puts her drink down, hesitates and then follows into the bedroom.
SARAH. I'm sorry your affair possesses so little dignity.
RICHARD. The dignity is in my marriage.
SARAH. Or sensibility.
RICHARD. The sensibility likewise. I wasn't looking for such attributes. I find them in you.
SARAH. Why did you look at all?
Slight pause.
RICHARD. What did you say?
SARAH. Why look . . . elsewhere . . . at all?
RICHARD. But my dear, you looked. Why shouldn't I look?
Pause.
SARAH. Who looked first?
RICHARD. You.
SARAH. I don't think that's true.
RICHARD. Who, then?
She looks at him with a slight smile.
Fade up. Night. Moonlight on balcony. The lights fade.
RICHARD comes in bedroom door in his pyjamas. He picks up a book and looks at it. SARAH comes from bathroom in her nightdress. There is a double bed. SARAH sits at the dressing-table. Combs her hair.
SARAH. Richard?
RICHARD. Mnn?
SARAH. Do you ever think about me at all . . . when you're with her?
RICHARD. Oh, a little. Not much.
Pause.
We talk about you.
SARAH. You talk about me with her?
RICHARD. Occasionally. It amuses her.
SARAH. Amuses her?
RICHARD (choosing a book). Mmnn.
SARAH. How . . . do you talk about me?
RICHARD. Delicately. We discuss you as we would play an antique music box. We play it for our titillation, whenever desired.
Pause.
SARAH. I can't pretend the picture gives me great pleasure.
RICHARD. It wasn't intended to. The pleasure is mine.
SARAH. Yes, I see that, of course.
RICHARD (sitting on the bed). Surely your own afternoon pleasures are sufficient for you, aren't they? You don't expect extra pleasure from my pastimes, do you?
SARAH. No, not at all.
RICHARD. Then why all the questions?
SARAH. Well, it was you who started it. Asking me so many questions about . . . my side of it. You don't normally do that.
RICHARD. Objective curiosity, that's all.
He touches her shoulders.
You're not suggesting I'm jealous, surely?
She smiles, stroking his hand.
SARAH. Darling. I know you'd never stoop to that.
RICHARD. Good God, no.
He squeezes her shoulder.
What about you? You're not jealous, are you?
SARAH. No. From what you tell me about your lady I seem to have a far richer time than you do.
RICHARD. Possibly.
He opens the windows fully and stands by them, looking out.
What peace. Come and look.
She joins him at the window.
They stand silently.
What would happen if I came home early one day, I wonder?
Pause.
SARAH. What would happen if I followed you one day, I wonder?
Pause.
RICHARD. Perhaps we could all meet for tea in the village.
SARAH. Why the village? Why not here?
RICHARD. Here? What an extraordinary remark.
Pause.
Your poor lover has never seen the night from this window, has he?
SARAH. No. He's obliged to leave before sunset, unfortunately.
RICHARD. Doesn't he get a bit bored with these damn afternoons? This eternal teatime? I would. To have as the constant image of your lust a milk jug and teapot. Must be terribly dampening.
SARAH. He's very adaptable. And, of course, when one puts the blinds down it does become a kind of evening.
RICHARD. Yes, I suppose it would.
Pause.
What does he think of your husband?
Slight pause.
SARAH. He respects you.
Pause.
RICHARD. I'm rather moved by that remark, in a strange kind of way. I think I can understand why you like him so much.
SARAH. He's terribly sweet.
RICHARD. Mmn-hmmnn.
SARAH. Has his moods, of course.
RICHARD. Who doesn't?
SARAH. But I must say he's very loving. His whole body emanates love.
RICHARD. How nauseating.
SARAH. No.
RICHARD. Manly with it, I hope?
SARAH. Entirely.
RICHARD. Sounds tedious.
SARAH. Not at all.
Pause.
He has a wonderful sense of humour.
RICHARD. Oh, jolly good. Makes you laugh, does he? Well, mind the neighbours don't hear you. The last thing we want is gossip.
Pause.
SARAH. It's wonderful to live out here, so far away from the main road, so secluded.
RICHARD. Yes, I do agree.
They go back into the room. They get into the bed. He picks up his book and looks at it. He closes it and puts it down.
This isn't much good.
He switches off his bedside lamp. She does the same. Moonlight.
He's married, isn't he?
SARAH. Mmmmn.
RICHARD. Happily?
SARAH. Mmmmn.
Pause.
And you're happy, aren't you? You're not in any way jealous?
RICHARD. No.
SARAH. Good. Because I think things are beautifully balanced, Richard.
Fade.
Fade up. Morning. SARAH putting on her negligee in the bedroom. She begins to make the bed.
SARAH. Darling.
Pause.
Will the shears be ready this morning?
RICHARD (in bathroom, off). The what?
SARAH. The shears.
RICHARD. No, not this morning.
He enters, fully dressed in his suit. Kisses her on the cheek.
Not till Friday. Bye-bye.
He leaves the bedroom, collects hat and briefcase from hall.
SARAH. Richard.
He turns.
You won't be home too early today, will you?
RICHARD. Do you mean he's coming again today? Good gracious. He was here yesterday. Coming again today?
SARAH. Yes.
RICHARD. Oh. No, well, I won't be home early. I'll go to the National Gallery.
SARAH. Right.
RICHARD. Bye-bye.
SARAH. Bye.
The lights fade.
Fade up. Afternoon. SARAH comes downstairs into living-room. She wears a very tight, low-cut black dress. She hastily looks at herself in the mirror. Suddenly notices she is wearing low-heeled shoes. She goes quickly to cupboard, changes them for her high-heeled shoes. Looks again in mirror, smooths her hips. Goes to window, pulls Venetian blinds down, opens them, and closes them until there is a slight slit of light. There are three chimes of a clock. She looks at her watch, goes towards the flowers on the table. Door bell. She goes to door. It is the milkman, JOHN.
JOHN. Cream?
SARAH. You're very late.
JOHN. Cream?
SARAH. No, thank you.
JOHN. Why not?
SARAH. I have some. Do I owe you anything?
JOHN. Mrs. Owen just had three jars. Clotted.
SARAH. What do I owe you?
JOHN. It's not Saturday yet.
SARAH (taking the milk). Thank you.
JOHN. Don't you fancy any cream? Mrs. Owen had three jars.
SARAH. Thank you.
She closes the door. Goes into the kitchen with milk. Comes back with a tea-tray, holding teapot and cups, sets it on small table above chaise longue. She briefly attends to the flowers, sits on the chaise longue, crosses her legs, uncrosses them, puts her legs up on chaise longue, smooths her stockings under her skirt. The doorbell rings. Pulling her dress down she moves to the door, opens it.