Then he looks at Sophie.
It should become apparent, now, that the Barman is no longer on stage; and it is as if Harry has been looking for him.
Sophie stirs. She stands, rubbing her legs as if they had gone to sleep. She tries to keep her hands over her breasts.
Then she hobbles over to the chair by the window, right, that the Char has left.
She stands by it She turns to Harry.
SOPHIE
Hullo —
HARRY
Hullo —
SOPHIE
I was afraid you might not remember me —
HARRY
Oh yes, I loved only you, you see —
SOPHIE
I’ve brought you some socks —
HARRY
How terribly kind!
Harry comes over and sits on the chair, right, facing Sophie.
HARRY
And how are the children?
SOPHIE
All right.
HARRY
Wife and kids?
SOPHIE
All right.
HARRY
But we can’t talk —
SOPHIE
No.
Waldorf and Smudger, by the gothic door, left, seem to be acting as if they had stopped acting. They are miming reading newspapers; drinking cups of coffee; tying up shoe-laces, etc. They are half-hidden by the partly dismantled shelter. After a time Sophie and Harry continue —
SOPHIE
So what do we do?
HARRY
Stand back to back —
SOPHIE
Turn —
HARRY
Take a step forward —
They suddenly seem overcome by giggles.
They collect themselves.
Bert has been watching Waldorf and Smudger.
BERT
Got it?
WALDORF
What —
Sophie speaks to Harry.
SOPHIE
The pram?
HARRY
The baby?
Bert has picked up Sophie’s clothes from the ruins of the shelter. He carries them over and holds them out to her.
Sophie takes them.
Then Bert goes over to Waldorf by the gothic door, left, and holds out his hand.
Waldorf mimes putting down his paper. He speaks as if he is guessing the answer to Bert’s question — ‘Got it?’
WALDORF
— You’re in some sort of trouble, can I help you — ?
Bert remains with his hand out.
Smudger mimes putting his paper down.
SMUDGER
He came in here. He was looking for his child —
After a time Waldorf holds out his hand and lets fall from it, into Bert’s hand, Sophie’s brassiere, which he has been holding.
Bert goes to Sophie and gives the brassiere to her. Sophie takes it.
Then Waldorf and Smudger go back to their acting of having stopped acting.
Sophie, with her clothes, goes behind the bar. Norbert and Geordie, who have remained in their poses since the photographer’s light went off, now stand, take two of the chairs, and a table, and set them up by the dismantled shelter, left. They sit.
Geordie says tentatively —
GEORDIE
I went out through that door —
NORBERT
In through another door —
Smudger interrupts —
SMUDGER
Plenty more in the medicine cupboard! —
Geordie and Norbert look round as if to try to find out what they should be doing.
GEORDIE
There was a girl —
NORBERT
What did she say —
Waldorf interrupts —
WALDORF
Miaow, pussy pussy, down boy, cheep —
GEORDIE
Asked me my name —
NORBERT
What did you tell her —
SMUDGER
You touched the light — ?
Waldorf and Smudger mime putting their papers down as if they are irritated, or bored.
The light from beyond the plate-glass window has become brighter.
Geordie turns and talks to Harry, right.
GEORDIE
I was in a playground, alone. There was a chute with grey-green sides and a bed like water. I said — wrap your legs round me and we’ll go over the rim of the world —
The Char goes to the remains of the shelter, left, and takes from it the table which she carries to the right and places as it was at the beginning of Act I.
HARRY
Say after me —
GEORDIE
Say after me —
BERT
You can’t!
HARRY
Why not?
Harry and Bert are by the plate-glass window, right. Sophie, behind the bar, has been putting her uniform on.
The Char collects the remaining four chairs from the shelter, left, and puts them round the table, right. The tables and chairs are now roughly as they were at the beginning of Act I.
The Char goes behind the bar. She puts on a white coat like that of the Barman.
Norbert speaks from the table, left, facing the audience.
NORBERT
I was in a cell, alone. There were other cells around me. I thought — I will communicate through the walls. The sounds will stand for words and the words for meanings. I thought — An orchestra. Then I realised — rats!
WALDORF
Where’s the barman?
SMUDGER
He was here a moment ago —
WALDORF
Now he’s not.
Waldorf giggles.
Bert speaks to Harry —
BERT
They have to do it on their own.
HARRY
All scientifically controlled experiments can be repeated —
BERT
Repeat it then.
Harry turns to the bar. The Char watches. A Hostess, in her uniform, moves from behind the bar and goes and stands by the plate-glass window staring out.
This is the older Hostess who has changed places with Sophie behind the bar — if possible, unseen. Harry stares at her.
After a time Bert comes to the front of the stage and seems about to speak to the audience. Then he stops. He turns to the plate-glass window.
BERT
Ladies and gentlemen, we now come to the practical part of our demonstration —
He turns to the audience.
We have seen how comforting can be the suffering of pain —
He walks round the stage as if looking for something on the floor at the back in the corners.
Now we can see how pain can eliminate —
He comes back to the audience —
— You like it?
He watches the audience. Then he walks along the footlights, looking at the floor.
— Nothing can be done against moral or religious principles. The exceptions are children and lunatics —
He conies to where the Barman had left the radio in the first act. He picks it up and faces the audience.
— Is that your child?
Harry is still staring at the back of the Hostess facing the window, right.
After a time Smudger, from the back, calls as if he is fed up —
SMUDGER
Yes!
BERT
Can it talk?
SMUDGER
Yes!
BERT
What does it say —
He waits, holding the radio, by the front of the stage.
Smudger comes forward to the footlights.
He takes the radio from Bert. He fiddles with the knobs.
SMUDGER
It won’t —
BERT
Won’t talk?
SMUDGER
No.
BERT
It’s dead.
Smudger turns to the plate-glas
s, right.
Your baby’s dead.
Bert faces the audience.
Give it your breast —
Smudger hesitates.
Then he smiles, holds the radio like a child.
Bert paces around the stage again, stamping on the ground, as if to test whether it is secure.
There are some who say — We shall not make love upon the stage! But are we then automata —
He stops; facing the plate-glass.
The subject thinks nothing, feels nothing —
Harry has moved closer to the Hostess at the plate-glass window, watching her.
After a time Waldorf, as if fed up, calls loudly from the back —
WALDORF
You know what this place is, don’t you?
Smudger answers in the same manner —
SMUDGER
I should do. I run it!
WALDORF
You run it!
He stands. He comes forward to the footlights. He and Smudger face the audience. They act mockingly, as if they think they know what to say.
SMUDGER
— Don’t touch! —
WALDORF
— He’s been outside! —
SMUDGER
— His men are outside! —
WALDORF
— It’s burning!
They smile.
Geordie has his head in his hands. Norbert watches him as if he is also in pain.
The older Hostess turns from the plate-glass window and comes forward She carries her papers.
She speaks to Waldorf —
HOSTESS
What is your name?
WALDORF
My name?
HOSTESS
Yes.
Waldorf’seems to think: then to guess —
WALDORF
— I was looking for my wife —
HOSTESS
Do you know what plane she’s on?
WALDORF
Tall. Grey hair. Small moustache —
He smiles. He has described someone like himself.
The Hostess moves on to Smudger.
HOSTESS
What is your name —
SMUDGER
My name —
HOSTESS
Yes.
He puts the radio down by the footlights. He raises his arms jokingly.
SMUDGER
They usually give you more time, you know.
They search you.
Geordie, from the table, left, calls to the Hostess.
GEORDIE
I saw you — !
The Hostess moves over to the table, left. She stands by Geordie and Norbert.
NORBERT
Mummy —
HOSTESS
Yes?
NORBERT
What’s that person in the trees?
Bert has gone to the plate-glass and has leaned his head against it. He bangs it with his forehead. He calls —
BERT
Light! Light!
Harry goes to the plate-glass door and opens it. He puts his hand through. His hand cannot be seen through the glass.
He looks at Bert.
Bert murmurs —
— I’m going to take you to a cell at the bottom of the garden and I’m going to say—
Harry takes his hand from behind the glass. He closes the door. Then he looks at his hands. Bert holds his head in his hands.
HOSTESS
It’s the light of our lives, darlings!
She stands with Geordie and Norbert.
Smudger has lowered his arms.
Bert moves away from the plate-glass, holding his head.
Harry speaks looking at his hands.
HARRY
The problem is, how to live in a very small space: like a head, or a cage on the wall of a municipal building —
He waits. He seems to be listening.
First find the most comfortable position: on your back, with your knees up. It’s an advantage, of course, if you’ve spent much of your time in bed —
Geordie calls —
GEORDIE
Mummy —
HOSTESS
Yes?
GEORDIE
Can I wave?
Norbert waves at the audience.
NORBERT
Coo-ee!
Harry turns to the plate-glass window.
HARRY
Then turn on your fingers and toes, with your body like the ceiling —
Bert takes his hands away from his head. He acts as if he were holding something in his hands.
He murmurs —
BERT
Coo-ee.
He turns to the audience. He opens his hands.
Now you see it!
The voice of Sophie comes from behind the plate-glass door, right.
SOPHIE
Step back —
Harry murmurs —
HARRY
— You go over.
They wait.
After a time Bert turns his back and acts —
BERT
— Gather around, my children; you can brighten your dying sun —
Geordie speaks to the Hostess —
GEORDIE
They’re old?
HOSTESS
Eeeny meeny miney mo —
NORBERT
They go out into the world —
GEORDIE
They die?
Harry murmurs —
HARRY
They feed it.
Geordie and Norbert look round the room.
NORBERT
But that depends when you begin —
HOSTESS
Well, where did we —
The light from behind the window has grown brighter.
Bert has wandered across to the left. He stands by the food lift.
Then he looks at Geordie and Norbert and the Hostess by the table, left.
The voice of Sophie comes from behind the plate-glass window —
SOPHIE
Can I come in? —
The Hostess speaks to Geordie and Norbert.
HOSTESS
So what’s the difference —
Geordie and Norbert look round the room.
GEORDIE
We go on —
NORBERT
We go over —
Harry looks at Waldorf and Smudger at the front of the stage.
Bert murmurs —
BERT
And where do you think he is?
The Char is behind the bar.
The older Hostess is with Norbert and Geordie by the table, left.
Bert is by the food lift.
Harry is centre, slightly right.
Waldorf and Smudger, with their backs to the footlights, left, have stepped to the very front of the stage as if to be out of the glare from the plate-glass window.
The gothic door, left, opens. Framed in it is the elegant figure of a Hostess in uniform: she has a hand up to her face as if to shield it from the light. Almost immediately the plate-glass door, right, opens, and Sophie comes in. She wears jeans and a sweater. She begins walking towards the footlights as if to take her bow.
Then she notices, and stops and stares at, the figure of the Hostess framed in the gothic door. It is as if there are now three Hostesses.
Harry yells —
HARRY
I don’t want anyone to see this!
He waves violently at the wings.
The CURTAIN begins to come down.
It is a dark Curtain, of the same kind as at the beginning of Act I.
When the Curtain is down, Waldorf and Smudger find themselves in front of it.
The lights in the auditorium come on. Waldorf and Smudger seem uncertain what to do. Then they pick up the rifle and the radio which are by the footlights. Then they take their bow, awkwardly, at the front of the stage. Then they climb down into the auditorium and go off at a side-exit.
CELL
Present-day subjects un
der taboo — those about which people know but do not talk — are to do with the observation, knowledge, that life seems to maintain itself and evolve only at the cost of enormous waste; that only a small proportion of what is generated is fruitful: together with the conviction — likewise built up over the years of painstaking trial and error — that it seems to be part of a man’s special nature to try to prevent this, at least with regard to members of his own species. The observation and the conviction go hand in hand: it is ‘advanced’ and ‘scientific’ cultures that insist on the humanitarian need to look after unfruitful members of the species: those that do not, are rightly called barbaric. There is nothing absurd, or incorrect, in this predicament: humanitarianism has become as much part of a scientific man’s make-up as are the results of more impersonal observations. And it is perhaps the very mark of something living, evolving, that it should possess such contradictions — to be free to move within. What makes for present-day confusion is the lack of a style, a language, in which to talk about these things — by which a person, in such a predicament, might feel at home. Having no further vantage point from which he might embrace at the same time, as it were, both scientific and ethical attitudes, he is driven to assume that a commitment must be to one or to the other: and because this cannot be done by a person hoping for wholeness and thus for identity (since it involves cutting off part of himself) the result is, even for him, a retreat into scepticism or fantasy — in which he finds enough companions, goodness knows, who feel at home. Men split themselves — between the way they act professionally and the way they act privately; between the ruthlessness of public games and what the players themselves would claim were realities: within the games and the ‘realities’ themselves — for however much people may try to cut out parts of themselves, these parts exist, and after the cutting they are apt to exist in ways that people have no control over. The result of such splits are vacuums that dreams rush in to fill. But the fact that such a predicament can be glimpsed at all implies that there might be some vantage point from which a viewer might feel at home: that the gap is still not an occasion for despair, but a need for becoming accustomed. It is here that an idea like that of Bateson’s categories of learning is relevant — an attempt to evolve a language which will try to deal not just with facts, with units of data, but with the patterns, connections, that such data, together with the minds that observe them, make — in particular a language that can deal at the same time both with the data and with the language that is traditionally used to describe them. By this, apparent contradictions might be held. This language would be elusive, allusive; not didactic. Some such language has been that of poetry, of art: also of love — that seed-bed of self-mocking simplicities! But such complexities, arrogances, are indeed alarming: men are more easily at home, more protected, within the simple and infantile antagonisms of putting one fact against another; of knocking down cases like skittles; of making a fantasy of identity by putting the boot in. To have tenderness involves the acceptance of complexities: growing up involves the recognition of circuits like those of blood — all this within, between and around what are: the demands of the internal and what are apparently the facts of the external world.
Catastrophe Practice Page 14