Collaborators (8 page)

Stalin
For what?

Bulgakov
The car.

Stalin
Nothing to do with me.

He continues to type.

Bulgakov
And the hot water.

Stalin
I'll be honest with you, Mikhail – I don't personally heat the water of every citizen in the Union. I don't slope off from the Central Committee of an evening to stack your boiler with coal. But if you do have hot water, I might come round for a bath. The plumbing in the Kremlin is not for the faint-hearted.

Stalin continues typing.

Bulgakov watches for a moment. Then returns to the documents.

Bulgakov
Hey! Look at this!

Stalin
What is it?

Bulgakov
Steel output in Belarus – ‘Increasing 5 per cent per day'! ‘Will double in less than a month'!

Stalin
Isn't that amazing?

Bulgakov
Yes. But it's not . . . I mean, it's not true, is it?

Stalin
Isn't it? Why not?

Bulgakov
You mean . . .

Stalin
Why should something not be true, Mikhail?

Bulgakov
But it's . . . it's exactly what I asked for.

Stalin
Cause and effect.

Bulgakov
All I had to do was write it. And that made it happen. I made it happen. I made steel output increase, just by . . .

Stalin
Bulgakov: you're a natural.

Stalin returns to typing.

Bulgakov returns to the documents.

A few moments pass, each man hard at work.

Then Bulgakov's face clouds.

Bulgakov
Hold on. This is more difficult.

Stalin
What's up?

Bulgakov
The cities need grain. To feed the industrial workers.

Stalin
Can't argue with that.

Bulgakov
But the farmers – the peasants – well, it seems that they're holding on to the supply – refusing to sell it.

Stalin
Really? Why would they do that?

Bulgakov reads from the reports.

Bulgakov
Well – they claim the harvest is poor and that they need to feed themselves and their families and that they need to keep some grain to plant for next year's harvest otherwise it'll be even worse!

Stalin resumes his typing. Bulgakov follows his own stream of consciousness.

So it's a question of judging whose needs are greater. Also trying to balance a quick fix against the possibility of longer-term problems –

Stalin
Mikhail – I know I asked, but actually – I'm not interested.

Bulgakov
It seems the only way to get the grain would be to send in troops to take it, at gunpoint if necessary. But that doesn't seem right.

Stalin ignores him.

What do you think?

Stalin
I'm doing your job. I'm working on my play. Your play. Do mine. Please.

Bulgakov
I'm not qualified!

Stalin
Neither was I! Once upon a time. So what I did was, I worked it out as I was going along. Like I'm not qualified to write a play – but I'm doing the best I can. That's all anyone can ask of you. This is what it's like when you govern. You sit here, in an office in Moscow. And out there, there's a hundred million peasants who
cannot read. They hate you. They don't trust you. But you have a country to run. Targets to fulfil. An industrial base to secure, to expand. You have cities waiting to be fed. No one says it's easy! But someone has to do it. Someone has to be in charge. Who's it going to be? A forward-looking progressive regime swept to power on a popular revolution, or a bunch of unelected self-interested farmers?

Bulgakov
What about next year's harvest?

Stalin
What about next week's bread?

Bulgakov
What shall I do?

Stalin
Make a decision, Mikhail. And sign it J.S.

He continues. Discussion closed.

He concludes typing. Pulls out the sheets, folds them and holds them out for Bulgakov.

Bulgakov hesitates for a moment, then scrawls on the documents.

Bulgakov takes the manuscript from Stalin.

Exit Stalin.

Enter Yelena.

Bulgakov crosses to meet her.

Bulgakov
I'm sure this is a mistake.

Yelena
There's no mistake.

She produces a telegram from her handbag.

‘M. Bulgakov to attend Lenin Clinic this day 09.00 for examination.' That's what it says.

Bulgakov
The Lenin Clinic is only for the elite. The privileged few.

Yelena
That's not true. All facilities are equally open to all citizens. The fact that you've been sent an appointment is proof in itself.

He looks at her.

I'm joking. Be thankful.

Bulgakov
For what?

Yelena
Perhaps they have a new treatment.

Bulgakov
There is no treatment.

He sits at the table. Yelena stands behind.

Enter the Doctor.

The Doctor is now immaculately turned out.

A pretty, pristine Nurse is in attendance.

Doctor
Mr and Mrs Bulgakov! What a delight, what an honour to make your aquaintance! Please, please, sit down! Did you meet my assistant, my little Ninotchka? She used to be an actress, until I rescued her from that delinquent profession. Coffee? Vodka? Whatever you like? Now, let's have a look.

He opens a folder.

So, Mikhail: your blood pressure is now normal. That's good, isn't it? Really good. And new analysis of both the blood and the urine is . . . also . . . one hundred per cent normal. So, today, we have literally no evidence of disease.
C'est le malade imaginaire
.

Bulgakov
That's impossible.

Doctor
How do you feel?

Bulgakov
I feel well.

Doctor
As you should. Because there is nothing wrong with you, or at least nothing that a bit of red meat and fresh fruit wouldn't help.

Bulgakov
But there is no treatment for nephrosclerosis! It is a progressive condition leading to failure of the kidneys.

Doctor
Pardon me, sir, but I am a doctor too – indeed, I am a specialist in this very field, and I do know about nephrosclerosis.

Bulgakov
It does not simply disappear!

Doctor
Except in your case, it would appear that it has. A miracle! Or more prosaically, the original diagnosis was wrong.

Bulgakov
I don't think so. The blood tests were unequivocal.

Doctor
That leaves the miracle. Anyway, all you need, sir, is building up. Some meat on your ribs, some iron in your bloodstream.

He lifts out a printed pad, writes on it, then completes the job with a big stamp.

Take this. Your driver will know where to go.

Bulgakov
How did you know I have a driver?

Doctor
Good day, Mr Bulgakov. Your life is saved!

Yelena
Doctor –

Doctor
Madame – thank you, and farewell.

He kisses her hand.

Doctor and Nurse exit.

Music begins.

Doctor and Nurse return, now dressed as a butler and maid.

They each draw a trolley laden with fruit, meat, delicacies, wine, etc.

Bulgakov and Yelena watch, astonished, as the table is set for a sumptuous feast.

All choreographed to the music.

Vasilly, Praskovya, Sergei enter to assist with the setting, the men bringing more chairs. All three are dressed up in previously unseen finery.

With a final flourish of music and dance, Doctor and Nurse depart.

A beat.

Vasilly lifts a banana. Peels it. Takes a bite.

Vasilly
Nice work, Bulgakov.

End of Act One.

Act Two

The set is as before.

Grigory, Anna, Vasilly, Praskovya and Sergei are all gathered round the table, dressed up for the big dinner, sipping champagne.

Yelena helps Bulgakov with his bow tie near the bed.

Enter Vladimir and his wife Eva, also dressed up for dinner.

They cross the stage, followed by Stepan, who is dressed the same as usual.

Vladimir
Relax!

Eva
I am.

Vladimir
Just because he's show-business – it doesn't mean he's better than us. Socially, I mean. We're not punching above our weight here. I am a respected representative of the organ of state security and you are my wife. We are not intimidated by fancy-pants intellectuals.

Eva
I know that.

Vladimir
We can hold our own.

Eva
Yes.

Vladimir
You play the piano. I was in the school show at the age of ten. We're not strangers to his world.

Eva
I know that, dear.

Vladimir
Just try not to be too gushing.

Bulgakov
Vladimir! Please, come on in.

Vladimir
So kind of you to invite us! We never expected – I mean it's not like we gave you the job just so we could, you know, come round socially and . . . Gosh! Is it hot in here?

Bulgakov takes coats from Vladimir and Eva.

Stepan keeps his on throughout.

Yelena
Well, I've been hearing so much about you.

Eva
The same here.

Vladimir
Nice place, Bulgakov. Warm too. All right for some.

Bulgakov
In paradise, Vladimir, everyone is equal –

Vladimir
But in Moscow . . .

They all laugh. Apart from Stepan.

Bulgakov
Come on in. Sit down. Set to!

They sit. They eat. They chatter.

Then Grigory is talking to Vladimir.

Grigory
So they want me to write a self-criticism. They say if I don't, then all my work will be banned. And if I do, it'll probably be banned anyway.

Vladimir
That is such nonsense. I'm sorry to hear it – young guy like you.

Grigory
Yeah, so I'm going to write one. I'm going to admit to my failings: too talented, too handsome, too successful.

They laugh.

Vladimir
If there's anything I can do . . .

Grigory
They don't scare me.

Vasilly
You know, I had news from the old estate the other day. What do you think of this? Troops came to
collect the grain. But the harvest has been poor. There isn't enough to meet the targets that have been set. The peasants were willing to hand over their surplus, but they need to keep some for themselves and their families. But the soldiers wanted all of it. There was a struggle. Gunshots. Some men were killed. The grain was taken. So now they starve.

Yelena
That's terrible.

Vasilly
Yes. And what I hear is that there have been instances of men, women and children eating other men, women and children.

Sergei
That's not true.

Vasilly
Isn't it?

Sergei
No. We're not savages. This is the twentieth century. Those things don't happen here.

Vasilly
Well that's all right, then.

Bulgakov
Vasilly – it may or may not be true, but surely you'd have to accept that . . .

Vasilly
What?

Bulgakov
Well . . . that it's not easy. To govern, I mean. It's tough, it must be. Very hard, to make decisions.

Vasilly
Is it?

Bulgakov
You sit in an office in Moscow. There's a hundred million peasants who can't read. Cities waiting to be fed. And you ask yourself – who's in charge here?

Vasilly
What's that got to do with it? I was talking about cannibalism.

Bulgakov
Yes, but who's to say – what it's to be: next year's harvest or next week's bread? I'm saying it's not easy.

Vasilly
Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps ‘who's in charge' is actually what it's all about. I can understand it now, from that perspective. Death by starvation: it's the only language they understand.

Bulgakov
I can't believe that was the purpose of the decision.

Vasilly
And what makes you so sure?

Silence.

Yelena stands up.

Yelena
Would anyone like to dance?

She hurries up to the gramophone and starts it up.

Lights fade.

Soon all are up dancing to American jazz.

Stepan crudely and blatantly gropes Eva.

She firmly but politely pushes him away.

He returns to grope her again.

Bulgakov ushers Grigory away.

As they walk away, there is a short scuffle as Vladimir separates Stepan from Eva.

Bulgakov and Grigory move to front of stage.

Lights down behind them and the jazz fades.

The table is cleared by the guests and by the Doctor and Nurse
(
as butler and maid
).

Exit all except the two men.

Bulgakov produces cigars. They light up.

Bulgakov
I'm sorry. I didn't know they had demanded a self-criticism.

Grigory
I'm worried.

Bulgakov
Grigory, you are a great novelist. Those talentless dimwits at the Writers' Union – I tell you, it's not politics, it's envy. Stand your ground.

Grigory
It's not me I'm worried about.

Bulgakov
My health is good.

Grigory
Not your health either. This play you're writing.

Bulgakov
What about it?

Grigory
You were always the guy we looked up to. When they collected signatures to denounce someone, you stood your ground, never put your name to one. You always battled against the censor, found a way through if there was one, and if not – then try again! But this . . . You had to do it, right?

Bulgakov
Yes.

Grigory
No choice?

Bulgakov
No.

Grigory
They would have arrested Yelena?

Bulgakov
Yes.

Grigory
Well then, I understand –

Bulgakov
But maybe it's good for me.

Grigory
Oh, it's certainly that.

Bulgakov
Not materially. I mean, as a writer. Sometimes it's good to look at things from a different point of view.

Grigory
I think I preferred your point of view.

Bulgakov
I struggled for years, Grigory.

Grigory
That's right. We all know that, Mikhail. We watched you struggle. And we admired that. I have worshipped and been inspired by your perseverance. It defines you. Or at least it did.

Bulgakov
I haven't given in. I'm still the same. I'm just – why do I have to apologise?

Grigory
They say that when a man is going to drown, when he finally gives up the struggle – it's sort of blissful, for a moment. And then he drowns.

Bulgakov stubs out his cigar.

Bulgakov
Are you finished?

A beat.

Grigory drops his cigar and grinds it with his heel.

He exits.

Bulgakov stands for a beat.

He turns and crosses to the bed.

Enter Yelena.

She sits, facing away, brushing her hair, preparing for bed.

Yelena is silent.

What's wrong?

Yelena
Nothing.

Bulgakov
Do you think I've done something wrong?

Yelena
No. Why do you ask that?

Bulgakov
Everyone had a good time, didn't they?

She says nothing.

I mean, Vasilly's story. That's nothing to do with me.

Yelena
Who said it was?

Bulgakov
It's probably not even true. He talks such . . . You know.

Yelena
Yes. I know.

A pause.

Can I read it?

Bulgakov
Yes, of course.

A pause.

Only not yet, if that's all right. I'd like your opinion, I really would.

Yelena
But not yet.

They sit in silence for a moment.

Yelena exits.

Bulgakov pulls his coat on.

Enter Stalin. He takes his seat at the table and places a bundle of files on it.

He begins typing.

Bulgakov sits on the other chair. He stares vacantly. Ignores the paperwork on the table.

Stalin pauses.

Stalin
What's up?

Bulgakov says nothing.

Trouble at home?

The slightest of nods from Bulgakov confirms. Stalin sighs. He stands up and walks round to sit with Bulgakov.

Terrible things happen, Mikhail.

Bulgakov is surprised at the insight.

Yes, in any great revolutionary enterprise, some terrible things will happen. And if you want to walk away now, I would understand. I wouldn't hold it against you. But . . . I tell you this – the worst is over, the hard work is done.

He's up on his feet now, warming to his theme.

For both of us. Look where I've got to – he's in prison, but he's telling the guards what to do. It's easy – from here on in, it practically writes itself. And look –

He indicates the administrative files.

The nation is industrialised, the peasants are . . . aligned to the path of true socialism. The storm is no longer raging and the sea is calm. From here on in, the country
practically governs itself. We're a boring, modern, progressive state. No more mountains to climb, no more canyons to cross, no more . . . no more terrible things.

He lets it all sink in.

Still, if you want to walk away, I'd understand.

It's Bulgakov's turn to get to his feet.

He paces around.

Bulgakov
I'm sorry . . . I just don't think I'm . . .

But the script in the typewriter catches his eye.

He's in prison?

Stalin
Yes.

Bulgakov
But he tells the guards what to do?

Stalin
Yes.

Bulgakov
The man is trapped but his soul is still free.

Stalin
That's what I was trying to imply –

Bulgakov
It's good. But what if one day the governor orders the guards to punish him? Really hurt him.

Stalin
Yes . . . He walks between them –

Bulgakov
– and they're all hitting him with sticks –

Stalin
– one after the other –

Bulgakov
– but he doesn't flinch!

Stalin
Like Christ on the way to Calvary! Or is that too much?

Bulgakov
Put it in anyway.

Stalin
Put it in anyway!

Stalin returns to his desk. He starts typing urgently.

Typing with a flourish.

Bulgakov watches him for a moment, then follows his example. He sits down to his collection of paperwork. He signs documents, one after another, working his way briskly through the pile.

Both work fast. Until:

Bulgakov
Stop!

Stalin
What's wrong?

Bulgakov
Have you seen these?

Stalin
Seen what?

Bulgakov
Confessions. Signed confessions.

Stalin
Really? Who from?

Bulgakov
From . . . Zinoviev . . . Kamenev . . . Nikolai Bukharin.

Stalin
Kamenev – he and I go way back. I knew him when he was plain old Lev Rosenfeld. Nikolai Bukharin – the smartest guy in the Party by a long way. And Zinoviev? – that man was trusted by Lenin himself. You can't fault those men. They were there at the Revolution. So what've they done? Filched the petty cash? Double-dipped on expenses? Impregnated a ballerina? Boys will be boys, Mikhail.

Bulgakov
They plotted against you.

Stalin
No!

Bulgakov
That's what they've confessed to.

Stalin
Three of my very, very best friends and you sit there and tell me they're plotting against me!

Bulgakov
It's just what's written here –

Stalin is distraught. He walks around.

Takes a confession and reads it.

Stalin
This is absurd. If these confessions were true, it would mean that the entire Revolution was nothing more than a front for a long-term Trotskyite-bourgeois plot.

Bulgakov
You're right.

Stalin
As far as I'm concerned, those men are innocent. These so called confessions are merely evidence of someone else's mischief.

He returns to the desk.