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Authors: Harold Pinter

Harold Pinter Plays 2 (25 page)

BOOK: Harold Pinter Plays 2
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Pause.

What’s for dinner.

SARAH.
I haven’t thought.

RICHARD.
Oh, why not?

SARAH.
I find the thought of dinner fatiguing. I prefer not to think about it.

RICHARD.
That’s rather unfortunate. I’m hungry.

Slight
pause.

You hardly expect me to embark on dinner after a day spent sifting matters of high finance in the City.

She
laughs.

One could even suggest you were falling down on your wifely duties.

SARAH.
Oh dear.

RICHARD.
I must say I rather suspected this would happen, sooner or later.

Pause.

SARAH.
How’s your whore?

RICHARD.
Splendid.

SARAH.
Fatter or thinner?

RICHARD.
I beg your pardon?

SARAH.
Is she fatter or thinner?

RICHARD.
She gets thinner every day.

SARAH.
That must displease you.

RICHARD.
Not at all. I’m fond of thin ladies.

SARAH.
I thought the contrary.

RICHARD.
Really? Why would you have thought that?

Pause.

Of course, your failure to have dinner on the table is quite consistent with the life you’ve been leading for some time, isn’t it?

SARAH.
Is it?

RICHARD.
Entirely.

Slight
pause.

Perhaps I’m being unkind. Am I being unkind?

SARAH
(
looks
at
him
).
I don’t know.

RICHARD.
Yes, I am. In the traffic jam on the bridge just now, you see, I came to a decision.

Pause.

SARAH.
Oh? What?

RICHARD.
That it has to stop.

SARAH.
What?

RICHARD.
Your debauchery.

Pause.

Your life of depravity. Your path of illegitimate lust.

SARAH.
Really?

RICHARD.
Yes, I’ve come to an irrevocable decision on that point.

She
stands.

SARAH.
Would you like some cold ham?

RICHARD.
Do you understand me?

SARAH.
Not at all. I have something cold in the fridge.

RICHARD.
Too cold, I’m sure. The fact is this is my house. From today, I forbid you to entertain your lover on these premises. This applies to any time of the day. Is that understood.

SARAH.
I’ve made a salad for you.

RICHARD.
Are you drinking?

SARAH.
Yes, I’ll have one.

RICHARD.
What are you drinking?

SARSH.
You know what I drink. We’ve been married ten years.

RICHARD.
So we have.

He
pours.

It’s strange, of course, that it’s taken me so long to appreciate the humiliating ignominy of my position.

SARAH.
I didn’t take my lover ten years ago. Not quite. Not on the honeymoon.

RICHARD.
That’s irrelevant. The fact is I am a husband who has extended to his wife’s lover open house on any afternoon of her desire. I’ve been too kind. Haven’t I been too kind?

SARAH.
But of course. You’re terribly kind.

RICHARD.
Perhaps you would give him my compliments, by letter if you like, and ask him to cease his visits from (
He
consults
calendar.)
– the twelfth inst.

Long
silence.

SARAH.
How can you talk like this?

Pause.

Why today … so suddenly?

Pause.

Mmmm?

She
is
close
to
him.

You’ve had a hard day … at the office. All those overseas people. It’s so tiring. But it’s silly, it’s so silly, to talk like this. I’m here. For you. And you’ve always appreciated … how much these afternoons … mean. You’ve always understood.

She
presses
her
cheek
to
his.

Understanding is so rare, so dear.

RICHARD.
Do you think it’s pleasant to know that your wife is unfaithful to you two or three times a week, with great regularity?

SARAH.
Richard –

RICHARD.
It’s insupportable. It has become insupportable.

I’m no longer disposed to put up with it.

SARAH
(
to him
)
.
Sweet … Richard … please.

RICHARD.
Please what?

She
stops.

Can I tell you what I suggest you do?

SARAM.
What?

RICHARD.
Take him out into the fields. Find a ditch. Or a slag heap. Find a rubbish dump. Mmmm? What about that?

She
stands
still.

Buy a canoe and find a stagnant pond. Anything. Anywhere.

But not my living-room.

SARAH.
I’m afraid that’s not possible.

RICHARD.
Why not?

SARAH.
I said it’s not possible.

RICHARD.
But if you want your lover so much, surely that’s the obvious thing to do, since his entry to this house is now barred. I’m trying to be helpful, darling, because of my love for you. You can see that. If I find him on these premises I’ll kick his teeth out.

SARAH.
You’re mad.

He
stares
at
her.

RICHARD.
I’ll kick his head in.

Pause.

SARAH.
What about your own bloody whore?

RICHARD.
I’ve paid her off.

SARAH.
Have you? Why?

RICHARD.
She was too bony.

Slight
pause.

SARAH.
But you liked … you said you liked … Richard … but you love me …

RICHARD.
Of course.

SARAH.
Yes … you love me … you don’t mind him … you understand him… don’t you? … I mean, you know better than I do … darling … all’s well … all’s well … the evenings … and the afternoons … do you see? Listen, I do have dinner for you. It’s ready. I wasn’t serious. It’s Boeuf bourgignon. And tomorrow I’ll have Chicken Chasseur. Would you like it?

They
look
at
each
other.

RICHARD
(
softly
).
Adulteress.

SARAH.
You can’t talk like this, it’s impossible, you know you can’t. What do you think you’re doing?

He
remains
looking
at
her
for
a
second,
then
moves
into
the
hall.

He
opens
the
hall
cupboard
and
takes
out
the
bongo
drum.

She
watches
him.

He
returns.

RICHARD.
What’s this? I found it some time ago. What is it?

Pause.

What is it?

SARAH.
You shouldn’t touch that.

RICHARD.
But it’s in my house. It belongs either to me, or to you, or to another.

SARAH.
It’s nothing. I bought it in a jumble sale. It’s nothing. What do you think it is? Put it back.

RICHARD.
Nothing? This? A drum in my cupboard?

SARAH.
Put it back!

RICHARD.
It isn’t by any chance anything to do with your illicit afternoons?

SARAH.
Not at all. Why should it?

RICHARD.
It is used. This is used, isn’t it? I can guess.

SARAH.
You guess nothing. Give it to me.

RICHARD.
How does he use it? How do you use it? Do you play it while I’m at the office?

She
tries
to
take
the
drum.
He
holds
on
to
it.
They
are
still,
hands
on
the
drum.

What function does this fulfil? It’s not just an ornament, I take it? What do you do with it?

SARAH
(
with
quiet
anguish
).
You’ve no right to question me. No right at all. It was our arrangement. No questions of this kind. Please. Don’t, don’t. It was our arrangement.

RICHARD.
I want to know.

She
closes
her
eyes.

SARAH.
Don’t …

RICHARD.
Do you both play it? Mmmmnn? Do you both play it? Together?

She
moves
away
swiftly,
then
turns,
hissing.

SARAH.
You stupid …! (
She
looks
at
him
coolly.
)
Do you think he’s the only one who comes! Do you? Do you think he’s the only one I entertain? Mmmnn? Don’t be silly. I have other visitors, other visitors, all the time, I receive all the time. Other afternoons, all the time. When neither of you know, neither of you. I give them strawberries in season. With cream. Strangers, total strangers. But not to me, not while they’re here. They come to see the hollyhocks. And then they stay for tea. Always. Always.

RICHARD.
Is that so?

He
moves
towards
her,
tapping
the
drum
gently.

He
faces
her,
tapping,
then
grasps
her
hand
and
scratches
it
across
the
drum.

SARAH.
What are you doing?

RICHARD.
Is that what you do?

She
jerks
away,
to
behind
the
table.

He
moves
towards
her,
tapping.

Like that?

Pause.

What fun.

He
scratches
the
drum
sharply
and
then
places
it
on
the
chair.

Got a light?

Pause.

Got a light?

She
retreats
towards
the
table,
eventually
ending
behind
it.

Come on, don’t be a spoilsport. Your husband won’t mind, if you give me a light. You look a little pale. Why are you so pale? A lovely girl like you.

SARAH.
Don’t, don’t say that!

RICHARD.
You’re trapped. We’re alone. I’ve locked up.

SARAH.
You mustn’t do this, you mustn’t do it, you mustn’t!

RICHARD.
He won’t mind.

He
begins
to
move
slowly
closer
to
the
table.

No one else knows.

Pause.

No one else can hear us. No one knows we’re here.

Pause.

Come on. Give us a light.

Pause.

You can’t get out, darling. You’re trapped.

They
face
each
other
from
opposite
ends
of
the
table.

She
suddenly
giggles.

Silence.

SARAH.
I’m trapped.

Pause.

What will my husband say?

Pause.

He expects me. He’s waiting. I can’t get out. I’m trapped. You’ve no right to treat a married woman like this. Have you? Think, think, think of what you’re doing.

She
looks
at
him,
bends
and
begins
to
crawl
under
the
table
towards
him.
She
emerges
from
under
the
table
and
kneels
at
his
feet,
looking
up.
Her
hand
goes
up
his
leg.
He
is
looking
down
at
her.

You’re very forward. You really are. Oh, you really are. But my husband will understand. My husband does understand. Come here. Come down here. I’ll explain. After all, think of my marriage. He adores me. Come here and I’ll whisper to you. I’ll whisper it. It’s whispering time. Isn’t it?

BOOK: Harold Pinter Plays 2
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