David Hare Plays 2

by David Hare

  Sophia looks at her, holding her gaze.

  What do you feel when he says that he’ll die for you? That it’s life and death.

  Sophia Well …

  Valentina Is it for you?

  Sophia pauses a moment.

  Sophia No. But we’re different. I love him. I love what he is.

  Valentina Do you wish he loved you less desperately?

  Sophia That’s how he loves me.

  Valentina And is that a good thing?

  Sophia Look, how can I say? He’s kind to me. He’ll never do me harm. I always feel I can rest with him. Yes, there is inequality. If you like, an inequality of need. Finally. But what’s wrong with that? If we said, well, I can see this isn’t quite perfect, we’d never do anything.

  Valentina No.

  There is a pause.

  Even so.

  Sophia What is the alternative? I know what you feel. But by your argument, must we put up with everything?

  Valentina I have.

  Sophia Yes. But now should I?

  Valentina turns and looks at her, but does not answer.

  Mother, will you give me the money?

  Valentina Of course. (She laughs.) Mind you, I don’t have it.

  Sophia What?

  Valentina Two thousand roubles, are you joking?

  Sophia I assumed …

  Valentina Oh yes, I act as if I’m rich. That seems to me simply good manners. Don’t you see through it?

  Sophia No.

  Valentina Look at my life. How do you think I would have that kind of money?

  Sophia begins to laugh.

  Sophia I thought you were frugal.

  Valentina Frugal? I’m poor.

  Sophia Oh Lord, no, I don’t believe it. I’ve been so nervous …

  Valentina Well, so you should be. But not about money. You mustn’t worry. I’ll sell my flat.

  Sophia Don’t be ridiculous.

  Valentina Yes. It means nothing. Goodness, if I couldn’t throw money away I’d really be tragic.

  Sophia No, there’s no question …

  Valentina Yes. I shall do it. To shame you.

  Sophia Well, we shall see. (A pause.) You’ll support me? You think I’m doing right?

  Valentina There is no right. Until you see that, you will never have peace. (She gets up. She walks right the way across the room, decisively.) I will speak to Grigor. No, not for you. Not to help you. But on behalf of the children, I will persuade him not to oppose you, so that it’s quicker in the Regional Court. He’s frightened of women. Most bullies are.

  Sophia is about to speak but Valentina interrupts quickly.

  Don’t ask me any more. That’s all I can do. Now please go. The man you want to live with is senile. Senile’s the word.

  Sophia Thank you, Mother.

  Valentina You won’t be happy. You’ll die at forty.

  Sophia Good. Well, I’m glad that you’re pleased. (She smiles‚ genuinely moved.)

  Valentina I’m not pleased.

  Sophia Come here.

  Valentina No.

  Sophia Mother, please. Embrace me.

  Valentina Don’t be stupid.

  Sophia is holding out her arms. Valentina doesn’t move. So Sophia moves across and embraces her. Then she holds her head in her hands.

  Sophia Hey, Mother, hey.

  Valentina is about to cry. Sophia stops her.

  Valentina You must go. Give my love to the children. Tell them to visit me.

  Sophia Yes.

  Valentina Whatever you do, this time you must live with it.

  Sophia Yes. I’ve learnt that from you.

  She looks at her a moment. Then she turns and goes out. There’s a moment’s silence. Then Valentina walks across to the chair and picks up the canvas from the leg against which it is propped. She holds it out at arms’ length for five seconds. Then, without any visible reaction, she puts it down. Then she walks across the room and stands alone. Then her eyes begin to fill with tears. Silently the Assistant Curator returns, standing respectfully at the door.

  Valentina You’ve come back.

  Assistant Yes.

  Valentina I didn’t hear you.

  Assistant Have you had time to look at it?

  Valentina I’ve examined it.

  There’s a pause.

  Yes. It’s Matisse.

  Neither of them moves.

  Not, surely, the beginning of a sequence.

  Assistant I’m sorry?

  Valentina No, it’s just … you said … there was nothing in the foreground, so you assumed this is where he started. Then later he put in the woman. Or the violin. But no. It was the opposite. He removed the woman. He sought to distil.

  Assistant Oh, I see. Yes. That fits with the scientific dating.

  Valentina Yes, it would. You could have saved yourself money.

  The Assistant stands a moment, puzzled by her tone.

  Assistant Do you need to take another look?

  Valentina No. He said that finally he didn’t need a model. Finally he didn’t even need paint. He was there. He was a person. Present. And that was enough.

  The Assistant moves, as if to pick the canvas up.

  The giveaway is the light through the shutters. No one else could do that. The way the sun is diffused. He controlled the sun in his painting. He said, with shutters he could summon the sun as surely as Joshua with his trumpet.

  Assistant Yes. I see what you mean.

  She turns and looks at him.

  Valentina And are you a Member?

  Assistant What?

  Valentina The Party. Do you belong?

  Assistant Oh.

  Valentina No. Don’t tell me. I know. As surely as if you were a painting. (She holds a hand up towards him, as if judging him. Then smiles.) Yes. You belong.

  Assistant In my job you have to. I mean, I want to, as well. If I want advancement. This painting is going to be a great help to me.

  Valentina So Matisse did not paint in vain. (She gathers up her coat.) I must go. (Before she is ready, she turns thoughtfully a moment.) He was once in a Post Office in Picardy. He was waiting to pick up the phone. He picked up a telegraph form lying on the table, and without thinking, began to draw a woman’s head. All the time he talked on the phone, he was drawing. And when at the end, he looked down, he had drawn his mother’s face. His hand did the work, not the brain. And he said the result was truer and more beautiful than anything that came as an effort of will. (She stands a moment, then turns to go.)

  Assistant I’ll get you a car.

  Valentina No. The tram is outside. It goes right by my door.

  She goes. He stands a moment, looking at the painting. The background fades and the stage is filled with the image of the bay at Nice: a pair of open French windows, a balcony, the sea and the sky.

  The Assistant turns and looks to the open door.

  THE SECRET RAPTURE

  For Blair

  Characters

  Isobel Glass

  Marion French

  Tom French

  Katherine Glass

  Irwin Posner

  Rhonda Milne

  The Secret Rapture was first performed at the Lyttelton Theatre, South Bank, London, on 4 October 1988. The cast was as follows:

  Isobel Glass Jill Baker

  Marion French Penelope Wilton

  Tom French Paul Shelley

  Katherine Glass Clare Higgins

  Irwin Posner Mick Ford

  Rhonda Milne Arkie Whiteley

  Directed by Howard Davies

  Settings by John Gunter

  Costumes by Fotini Dimou

  Music by Ilona Sekacz

  Only half of us is sane: only part of us loves pleasure and the longer day of happiness, wants to live to our nineties and die in peace, in a house that we built, that shall shelter those who come after us. The other half of us is nearly mad. It prefers the disagreeable to the agreeable, loves pain and its darker night despair, and want
s to die in a catastrophe that will set back life to its beginnings and leave nothing of our house save its blackened foundations.

  REBECCA WEST

  If you don’t like my peaches,

  Why do you shake my tree?

  Get out of my orchard

  And let a poor girl be.

  POPULAR SONG

  Act One

  SCENE ONE

  Robert’s bedroom. The curtain goes up on almost complete darkness. Then a door opens at the back and a dim and indirect light is thrown from the corridor. Marion, in her late thirties, brisk, dark-haired, wearing a business suit, stands a moment, nervous, awed, in the doorway. She moves into the room which you can just detect is dominated by a large double bed, in which a man is lying, covered with a sheet reaching up over his face. Marion stops a moment by the bed, looking down. She then turns to go back towards the door.

  Isobel Marion?

  Marion lets out a scream, not having realized that Isobel was sitting in a chair at the end of the bed.

  Marion My God!

  Isobel I’m sorry.

  Marion You startled me.

  Isobel Don’t turn the main light on.

  Marion goes to the bed and turns on a small bedside lamp.

  I needed some peace.

  Isobel is younger than Marion and blonder. She is in her early thirties, and casually dressed in a shirt and blue jeans. She is sitting at the end of the bed, facing us, not moving. The room is seen now to be panelled, gloomy, dark, old-fashioned. It is absolutely tidy, hairbrushes in place, the body quite still beneath the shroud.

  I decided this would be the only place. For some quiet. There’s so much screaming downstairs.

  Marion moves gingerly towards the bed. She looks a moment.

  Marion So were you with him?

  Isobel There’s actually a moment when you see the spirit depart from the body. I’ve always been told about it. And it’s true. (She is very quiet and still.) Like a bird.

  Marion looks across, nervous.

  Marion Did he …

  Isobel What?

  Marion No, I wondered … who dressed him?

  Isobel Dressed him?

  Marion Yes. Is he in a suit?

  Isobel I did it. And there was a nurse.

  Marion stands a moment, not looking at the bed.

  Marion Well, I don’t know. Are you going to sit there?

  Isobel Yes. For a while. Is that all right?

  She smiles and holds out her hand. But Marion does not take it.

  Marion Yes. Perfectly.

  Isobel Did you want to be alone with him?

  Marion No. I just wanted to see him for the last time.

  Isobel does not move.

  I’m sorry, you know, I feel wretched not getting here …

  Isobel Oh, I’m sure Dad didn’t mind. He was barely conscious. He had no idea who I was. (She smiles.)

  Marion I was wondering …

  Isobel What?

  Marion No, it’s just … no, it’s nothing. It’s silly. I gave him a little thing. Six months ago. When I … when you first told me he was ill. I was shocked. I bought him a present.

  Isobel Oh, was that the ring?

  Marion I mean what I’m saying is … is he still wearing it?

  Isobel No. We took it off.

  Marion Where did you put it?

  There’s a silence. Isobel finally realizes what Marion wants.

  Isobel It’s in the drawer.

  Marion nods slightly. Then she goes to the chest of drawers and opens the top drawer. She takes out a ring. Then closes it. She moves back across the room.

  Marion Well, I must say, Isobel, you’ve been heroic. I wouldn’t have managed it. I know myself too well. The times I came down to see him … I’ll say this to you … it made me uncomfortable. I couldn’t be wholly at ease. I find it hard … I mean if someone’s, you know, as he was … I find it hard to strike the right attitude. Don’t you find that?

  Isobel I don’t know.

  There’s a moment’s silence.

  Marion Look, about the ring.

  Isobel It’s all right.

  Marion Isobel, please let me explain to you …

  Isobel Honestly, Marion …

  Marion I know when I took it just now, it must have looked bad. Did it look bad?

  Isobel shakes her head.

  You’ve always been kind to me. But there are reasons.

  Isobel I’m sure. (She looks down a moment.)

  Marion I know what you’re thinking.

  Isobel I’m not thinking anything.

  Marion Oh, this is awful. It’s absolutely ghastly. I knew when I took it, I should have waited. I should have come and taken it when I was alone. It’s just the thought, if Katherine’s got her hands on it, you know perfectly well she’ll sell it tomorrow – he’s left her everything – what, I’m meant to leave it in that drawer, so she can spend it on drink?

  Isobel looks to the bed, disturbed by Marion’s sudden loudness.

  For God’s sake, I mean, the ring is actually valuable. Actually no, that sounds horrid. I apologize. I’ll tell you the truth. I thought when I bought it – I just walked into this very expensive shop and I thought, this is one of the few really decent things I’ve done in my life. And it’s true. I spent, as it happens, a great deal of money, rather more … rather more than I had at the time. I went over the top. I wanted something to express my love for my father. Something adequate.

  Marion has tears in her eyes. Isobel is very quiet.

  Isobel Then by all means you must take it. I can’t see why not.

  Marion thinks about this a moment, looking judiciously at Isobel

  Marion I mean, God, I want to have something. It’s a sort of keepsake. Every time I look at it, I’m going to feel sad. Because, you know, I think it’s going to be a terrible reminder of … what do you call those things?

  Isobel A memento mori.

  Marion But I mean when it comes down to it, it’s much better that than it’s traded for eight crates of vodka for Katherine to pour down her throat.

  Isobel looks at her a moment.

  Isobel Shall we go down?

  Marion Oh, for God’s sake, I can’t stand it.

  Isobel What?

  Marion Your disapproval.

  Isobel gestures towards the bed.

  Isobel Marion, please.

  Isobel gestures again, uselessly, unable to express what she feels.

  I don’t disapprove. I’m just upset.

  Tom appears at the door. He is in his late thirties, in a grey suit of artificial fibre, with a sober tie. He is tall, thin, and his face is boyish.

  Tom Oh, you’re in here.

  Isobel Yes.

  Tom Right.

  Marion Tom, have you unpacked the car?

  Tom I’ve done that, darling. (He stands a moment, puzzled.) Is anyone coming?

  Marion Where?

  Tom Downstairs.

  Isobel In a moment.

  Tom It’s just a little odd all crowding in here. (He frowns slightly.)

  Marion I’m just furious with Katherine.

  Tom Katherine?

  Marion I mean, have you seen her? She’s drunk.

  Tom I’m not sure that’s true. I mean surely …

  Marion One day, you would think, just one day. Was she drunk earlier?

  Isobel When?

  Marion You know, when … earlier, in his last moments … (Marion gestures uneasily towards the bed.)

  Isobel I didn’t notice.

  Marion I think it’s disgraceful.

  Isobel Well, it hardly matters. Least of all to Dad.

  Tom No, he’s fine. He’s in the hands of the Lord.

  Isobel frowns slightly at this, then makes as if to leave.

  Isobel Mmm. Well, perhaps …

  Tom Is an ambulance coming?

  Isobel No. An undertaker. We have a certificate. That’s all been done. Time of death. Cause of death.

  Marion Was Kat
herine much help?

  Isobel What do you mean?

  Marion Was she any help to you? When you were nursing Dad?

  Isobel She was fine.

  Marion I bet you had to do everything yourself.

  Isobel No. Katherine helped.

  Marion looks ironically at Tom.

  Marion Isobel can’t resist being kind about people.

  Isobel I’m not being kind. (She hesitates a moment.) Also … Dad loved her. You must allow him that. He wouldn’t have married unless he genuinely loved her.

  Marion You know my views about that.

  Isobel Yes, I do.

  Marion An old man was taken for a ride.

  Isobel I know you feel that. Honestly, I don’t think it matters much. The great thing is to love. If you’re loved back then it’s a bonus.

  Marion looks pityingly to Tom, as if this were too absurd for comment.

  He saw himself as a failure …

  Marion (at once) He wasn’t.

  Isobel Of course not. But that’s how he felt. In the world’s eyes. A small-town bookseller. The only thing that distinguished his life – as he felt – was this late passion for a much younger woman. So now he’s dead, Marion, you mustn’t take that away. (She turns, a little overcome by her own eloquence. She turns to Tom.) What do you feel, Tom?

  Tom Feel?

  Isobel About what I’ve been saying?

  Tom I couldn’t find fault with it.

  Marion Oh really?

  Tom I’m sure both of you are right. (He looks a little nervously at Marion.) It’s wonderful being a woman because you have that knack of knowing what’s going on. Men just don’t seem to have it. What is it? A sort of instinct? Still, vive la différence, eh?

  Isobel is for the first time able to smile to herself.

  Isobel Yes, well, certainly. Shall I make some supper?

  Tom Oh, I’m defrosting some stuff. I got individual roast-beef dinner-trays from a freezer on the motorway. I didn’t think anyone would need more than that.