Ends and Odds (7 page)

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Authors: Samuel Beckett

BOOK: Ends and Odds
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Pause.

A (
stricken):
Tsstss! (
Pause
.) Tsstsstss!

B: You see. (
Emphatic
.) This is not his home and he knows it full well.

Pause.

A: Now let's have the positive elements.

B: Positive? You mean of a nature to make him think … (
hesitates, then with sudden violence
)… that some day things might change? Is that what you want? (
Pause. Calmer
.) There are none.

A (
wearily):
Oh yes there are, that's the beauty of it.

Pause.
B
rummages in his papers.

B (
looking up):
Forgive me, Bertrand. (
Pause. Rummages. Looks up
.) I don't know what came over me. (
Pause. Rummages. Looks up
.) A moment of consternation. (
Pause. Rummages
.) There is that incident of the lottery … possibly. Remember?

A: No.

B (
reading):
“Two hundred lots … winner receives high class watch … solid gold, hallmark nineteen carats, marvel
of accuracy, showing year, month, date, day, hour, minute and second, super chic, unbreakable hair spring, chrono escapement nineteen rubies, anti-shock, anti-magnetic, airtight, waterproof, stainless, self-winding, centre seconds hand, Swiss parts, de luxe lizard band.”

A: What did I tell you? However unhopefully. The mere fact of chancing his luck. I knew he had a spark left in him.

B: The trouble is he didn't procure it himself. It was a gift. That you forget.

A (
irritated):
I forget, I forget! And he, does he not—. (
Pause
.) At least he kept it.

B: If you can call it that.

A: At least he accepted it. (
Pause
.) At least he didn't refuse it.

B: I quote: “The last time I laid eyes on him I was on my way to the Post Office to cash an order for back-pay. The area before the building is shut off by a row of bollards with chains hung between them. He was seated on one of these with his back to the Thompson works. To all appearances down and out. He sat doubled in two, his hands on his knees, his legs astraddle, his head sunk. For a moment I wondered if he was not vomiting. But on drawing nearer I could see he was merely scrutinizing, between his feet, a lump of dogshit. I moved it slightly with the tip of my umbrella and observed how his gaze followed the movement and fastened on the object in its new position. This at three o'clock in the afternoon if you please! I confess I had not the heart to bid him the time of day, I was overcome. I simply slipped into his hip pocket a lottery ticket I had no use for, while silently wishing him the best of luck. When two hours later I emerged from the Post Office, having cashed my order, he was at the same place
and in the same attitude. I sometimes wonder if he is still alive.” Testimony of Mr. Feckman, certified accountant and friend for better and for worse.

Pause.

A: Dated when?

B: Recent.

A: It has such a bygone ring. (
Pause.
) Nothing else?

B: Oh … bits and scraps … good graces of an heirless aunt … unfinished—

A: Hairless aunt?

B: … heirless aunt … unfinished game of chess with a correspondent in Tasmania … hope not dead of living to see the extermination of the species … literary aspirations incompletely stifled … bottom of a dairy-woman in Waterloo Lane … you see the kind of thing.

Pause.

A: We pack up this evening, right?

B: Without fail. Tomorrow we're at Bury St. Edmunds.

A (
sadly):
We'll leave him none the wiser. We'll leave him now, never to meet again, having added nothing to what he knew already.

B: All these testimonies were new to him. They will have finished him off.

A: Not necessarily. (
Pause
.) Any light on that? (
Papers
.) This is vital. (
Papers
.) Something … I seem to remember … something … he said himself.

B (
papers):
Under “Confidences” then. (
Brief laugh
.) Slim file. (
Papers
.) Confidences … confidences … ah!

A (
impatient):
Well?

B (
reading):
“… sick headaches … eye trouble … irrational fear of vipers … ear trouble …”—nothing for us there—“…fibroid tumours … pathological horror of songbirds … throat trouble … need of affection …” —we're coming to it-“… inner void … congenital timidity … nose trouble …”—ah! listen to this!-“… morbidly sensitive to the opinion of others …” (
Looks wp
.) What did I tell you?

A (
glum):
Tsstss!

B: I'll read the whole passage: “… morbidly sensitive to the opinion of others—” (
His lamp goes out
.) Well! The bulb has blown! (
The lamp goes on again
.) No, it hasn't! Must be a faulty connection. (
Examines lamp, straightens flex
.) The flex was twisted, now all is well. (
Reading
.) “… morbidly sensitive—” (
The lamp goes out
.) Bugger and shit!

A: Try giving her a shake. (B
shakes the lamp. It goes on again
.) See! I picked up that wrinkle in the Band of Hope.

Pause.

B

 

“…morbidly sensitive—”

(
together):

A

 

Keep your hands off the table.

B: What?

A: Keep your hands off the table. If it's a connection the least jog can do it.

B (
having pulled back his chair a little way):
“… morbidly sensitive—”

The lamp goes out.
B
bangs on the table with his fist. The lamp goes on again. Pause.

A: Mysterious affair, electricity.

B (
hurriedly):
“… morbidly sensitive to the opinion of others at the time, I mean as often and for as long as they entered my awareness—” What kind of Chinese is that?

A (
nervously):
Keep going, keep going!

B: “… for as long as they entered my awareness, and that in either case, I mean whether such on the one hand as to give me pleasure or on the contrary on the other to cause me pain, and truth to tell-” Shit! Where's the verb?

A: What verb?

B: The main!

A: I give up.

B: Hold on till I find the verb and to hell with all this drivel in the middle. (
Reading
.) “… were I but … could I but …”—Jesus!—“… though it be … be it but …”—Christ!—ah! I have it—“… I was unfortunately incapable …” Done it!

A: How does it run now?

B (
solemnly):
“… morbidly sensitive to the opinion of others at the time …”—drivel drivel drivel-“… I was unfortunately incapable-”

The lamp goes out. Long pause.

A: Would you care to change seats? (
Pause
.) You see what I mean? (
Pause
.) That you come over here with your papers and I go over there. (
Pause
.) Don't whinge, Morvan, that will get us nowhere.

B: It's my nerves. (
Pause
.) Ah if I were only twenty years younger I'd put an end to my sufferings!

A: Fie! Never say such horrid things! Even to a well-wisher!

B: May I come to you? (
Pause
.) I need animal warmth.

Pause.

A (
coldly):
As you like. (B
gets up and goes towards
A.) With your files if you don't mind. (B
goes back for papers and briefcase, returns towards
A,
puts them on
A'
s table, remains standing. Pause
.) Do you want me to take you on my knees?

Pause.
B
goes back for his chair, returns towards
A,
stops before
A's
table with the chair in his arms. Pause.

B (
shyly):
May I sit beside you? (
They look at each other
.) No? (
Pause
.) Then opposite. (
He sits down opposite A, looks at him. Pause
.) Do we continue?

A (
forcibly):
Let's get it over and go to bed.

B
rummages in his papers.

B: I'll take the lamp. (
He draws it towards him
.) Please God it holds out. What would we do in the dark the pair of us? (
Pause
.) Have you matches?

A: Never without. (
Pause
.) What we would do? Go and stand by the window in the starlight. (B's
lamp goes on again.) That is to say you would.

B (
fervently):
Oh no not alone I wouldn't!

A: Pass me a sheet. (B
passes him a sheet
.) Switch off.(B
switches off
.) Oh lord, yours is on again.

B: This gag has gone on long enough for me.

A: Just so. Go and switch it off.

B
goes to his table, switches off his lamp. Pause.

B: What am I to do now? Switch it on again?

A: Come back.

B: Switch on then till I see where I'm going.

A
switches on.
B
goes back and sits down opposite
A. A
switches off, goes to window with sheet, halts, contemplates the sky.

A: And to think all that is nuclear combustion! All that faerie! (
He stoops over sheet and reads haltingly
.) “Aged ten, runs away from home first time, brought back next day, admonished, forgiven.” (
Pause
.) “Aged fifteen, runs away from home second time, dragged back a week later, thrashed, forgiven.” (
Pause
.) “Aged seventeen, runs away from home third time, slinks back six months later with his tail between his legs, locked up, forgiven.” (
Pause
.) “Aged seventeen, runs away from home last time, crawls back a year later on his hands and knees, kicked out, forgiven.”

Pause. He moves up against window to inspect
C'
s face, to do which he has to lean out a little way, with his back to the void.

B: Careful!

Long pause, all three dead still.

A (
sadly):
Tsstss! (
He resumes his equilibrium
.) Switch on. (B
switches on.
A
goes back to his table, sits, returns the sheet to
B.) It's heavy going, but we're nearly home.

B: How does he look.

A: Not at his best.

B: Has he still got that little smile on his face?

A: Probably.

B: What do you mean, probably, haven't you just been looking at him?

A: He didn't have it then.

B (
with satisfaction):
Ah! (
Pause
.) Could never make out what he thought he was doing with that smile on his face. And his eyes? Still goggling?

A: Shut.

B: Shut!

A: Oh it was only so as not to see me. He must have opened them again since. (
Pause. Violently
.) You'd need to stare them in the face day and night! Never take your eyes off them for a week on end! Unbeknownst to them!

Pause.

B: Looks to me we have him.

A (
impatiently):
Come on, we're getting nowhere, get on with it.

B
rummages in his papers, finds the sheet.

B (
reading at top speed):
“… morbidly sensitive to the opinion of others at the time …”—drivel drivel drivel—“… I was unfortunately incapable of retaining it for more than ten or fifteen minutes at the most, that is to say the time required to take it in. From then on it might as well never have been uttered.” (
Pause
.) Tsstss!

A (with satisfaction):
You see. (
Pause
.) Where does that come in?

B: In a letter presumably never posted to an anonymous admiratrix.

A: An admiratrix? He had admiratrixes?

B: It begins: “Dear friend and admiratrix …” That's all we know.

A: Come, Morvan, calm yourself, letters to admiratrixes, we all know what they're worth. No need to take everything literally.

B (
violently, slapping down his hand on the pile of papers):
There's the record, closed and final. That's what we're going on. Too late now to start saying that (
slapping to his left
) is right and that (
slapping to his right
) wrong. You're a pain in the arse.

Pause.

A: Good. Let us sum up.

B: We do nothing else.

A: A black future, an unpardonable past-so far as he can remember, inducements to linger on all equally preposterous and the best advice dead letter. Agreed?

B: An heirless aunt preposterous?

A (
warmly):
He's not the interested type. (
Sternly
.) One has
to consider the client's temperament. To accumulate documents is not enough.

B (
vexed, slapping on his papers):
Here, as far as I'm concerned the client is here and nowhere else.

A: All right. Is there a single reference there to personal gain? That old aunt, was he ever as much as commonly civil to her? And that dairy-woman, come to that, in all the years he's been going to her for his bit of cheddar, was he ever once wanting in respect? (
Pause
.) No, Morvan, look you—.

Feeble miaow. Pause. Second miaow, louder.

B: That must be the cat.

A: Sounds like it. (
Long pause
.) So, agreed? Black future, unpardonable—

B: As you wish. (
He starts to tidy back the papers in the briefcase. Wearily
.) Let him jump.

A: No further exhibit?

B: Let him jump, let him jump. (
He finishes tidying, gets up with the briefcase in his hand
.) Let's go.

A
consults his watch.

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