Harold Pinter Plays 2 (12 page)

LEN:
Pete.

PETE:
What?

LEN:
Come here.

PETE:
What?

LEN:
What’s the matter with this recorder?
[He
pulls
recorder
in
half,
looks
downy
blows,
taps.
]
There’s something wrong with this recorder.

PETE:
Let’s have some tea.

LEN:
I can’t do a thing with it.

[
Re-assembles
recorder.
Another
attempt
to
play.
]

Where’s the milk?

[
He
puts
recorder
on
tray
.]

PETE:
You were going to bring it.

LEN:
That’s right.

PETE:
Well, where is it?

LEN:
I forgot it. Why didn’t you remind me?

PETE:
Give me the cup.

LEN:
What do we do now?

PETE:
Give me the tea.

LEN:
Without milk?

PETE:
There isn’t any milk.

LEN:
What about sugar? [
Moving
towards
door.
]
He must have a pint of milk somewhere. [
He
exits
to
kitchen.
Noise
of
opening
cupboards
etc.
He
reappears
with
a
couple
of
gherkins
in
a
jar.
]
Here’s a couple of gherkins. What about a gherkin? [
Takes
jar
to
PETE
.] Fancy a gherkin. [
PETE
sniffs,
looks
up
in
disgust.
LEN
sniffs
and
exits.
]
Wait a minute. [
Kitchen noises.
LEN
reappears with a bottle of milk
.] Ah!  Here we are. I knew he’d have a pint laid on. [
Pressing the  top
.] Uuh! Uuuhh .… It’s stiff.

PETE:
I wouldn’t open that.

LEN:
Uuuhh …. why not? I can’t drink tea without milk. Uuh! That’s it. [
Picking
up
cup
to
pour.
]
Give us your cup.

PETE:
Leave it alone.

[
Pause.
LEN
shakes
bottle
over
cup.
]

LEN:
It won’t come out. [
Pause
.]
The milk won’t come out of the bottle.

PETE:
It’s been in there two weeks, why should it come out?

LEN:
Two weeks? He’s been away longer than two weeks. [
Slight
pause.
]
It’s stuck in the bottle. [
Slight
pause.
] You’d think a man like him would have a maid, wouldn’t you, to look after the place while he’s away, to look after
his milk? Or a gentleman. A gentleman’s gentleman. Are you quite sure he hasn’t got a gentleman’s gentleman tucked away somewhere, to look after the place for him?

PETE
[
rising
to
replace
book
on
shelf
]
:
Only you. You’re the only gentleman’s gentleman he’s got.

[
Pause.
]

LEN:
Well, if I’m his gentleman’s gentleman, I should have been looking after the place for him.

[
Pause.
PETE
takes
brass
toasting
fork
off
wall.
]

PETE:
What’s this?

LEN:
That? You’ve seen that before. It’s a toasting fork.

PETE:
It’s got a monkey’s head.

LEN:
It’s Portuguese. Everything in this house is Portuguese.

PETE:
Why’s that?

LEN:
That’s where he comes from.

PETE:
Does he?

LEN:
Or at least, his grandmother on his father’s side. That’s where the family comes from.

PETE:
Well, well.

[
He
hangs
up
the
toasting
fork.
]

LEN:
What time’s he coming?

PETE:
Soon.

[
He
pours
himself
a
cup
of
tea.
]

LEN:
You’re drinking black tea.

PETE:
What about it?

LEN:
You’re not in Poland.

[
He
plays
recorder.
PETE
sits
in
armchair.
]

PETE:
What’s the matter with that thing?

LEN:
Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with it. But it must be
broken. It’s a year since I played it. [
He
sneezes.
]
Aah! I’ve got the most shocking blasted cold I’ve ever had in all my life. [
He
blows
his
nose.
]
Still, it’s not much of a nuisance really.

PETE:
Don’t wear me out. [
Slight
pause.
]
Why don’t you pull yourself together? You’ll be ready for the loony bin next week if you go on like this.
[
LEN
uses
recorder
as
a
telescope
to
the
back
of
PETE’S
head.
]

[
Pause.
]

LEN:
Ten to one he’ll be hungry.

PETE:
Who?

LEN:
Mark. When he comes. He can eat like a bullock, that bloke. Still, he won’t find much to come home to, will he? There’s nothing in the kitchen, there’s not even a bit of lettuce. It’s like the workhouse here. [
Pause.
]
He can eat like a bullock, that bloke. [
Pause.
]
I’ve seen him finish off a loaf of bread before I’d got my jacket off. [
Pause.
]
He’d never leave a breadcrumb on a plate in the old days. [
Pause.
] Of course, he may have changed. Things do change. But I’m the same. Do you know, I had five solid square meals one day last week? At eleven o’clock, two o’clock, six o’clock, ten o’clock and one o’clock. Not bad going. Work makes me hungry. I was working that day. [
Pause.
] I’m always starving when I get up. Daylight has a funny effect on me. As for the night, that goes without saying. As far as I’m concerned the only thing you can do in the night is eat. It keeps me fit, especially if I’m at home. I have to run downstairs to put the kettle on, run upstairs to finish what I’m doing, run downstairs to cut a sandwich or arrange a salad, run upstairs to finish what I’m doing, run back downstairs to see to the sausages, if I’m having sausages, run back upstairs to finish what I’m doing, run back downstairs to lay the table, run back upstairs to finish what I’m doing, run back—

PETE:
Yes!

LEN:
Where did you get those shoes?

PETE:
What?

LEN:
Those shoes. How long have you had them?

PETE:
What’s the matter with them?

LEN:
Have you been wearing them all night?

[
Pause.
]

PETE:
When did you last sleep?

[
His
hand
is
lying
open,
palm
upward.
]

LEN:
Sleep? Don’t make me laugh. All I do is sleep.

PETE:
What about work? How’s work?

LEN:
Paddington? It’s a big railway station. An oven. It’s an oven. Still, bad air is better than no air. It’s best on night shift. The trains come in, I give a bloke half a dollar, he does my job, I curl up in the corner and read the timetables. But they tell me I might make a first class porter. I’ve been told I’ve got the makings of a number one porter. What are you doing with your hand?

PETE:
What are you talking about?

LEN:
What are you doing with your hand?

PETE
[
coolly
]:
What do you think I’m doing with it? Eh? What do you think?

LEN:
I don’t know.

PETE:
I’ll tell you, shall I? Nothing. I’m not doing anything with it. It’s not moving. I’m doing
nothing
with it.

LEN:
You’re holding it palm upwards.

PETE:
What about it?

LEN:
It’s not normal. Let’s have a look at that hand. Let’s have a look at it. [
Pause.
He
gasps
through
his
teeth.
]
You’re a homicidal maniac.

PETE:
Is that a fact?

LEN:
Look. Look at that hand. Look, look at it. A straight line
right across the middle. Right across the middle, see? Horizontal. That’s all you’ve got. What else have you got? You’re a nut.

PETE:
Oh yes?

LEN:
You couldn’t find two men in a million with a hand like that. It sticks out a mile. A mile. That’s what you are, that’s exactly what you are, you’re a homicidal maniac!

[
A
knock
on
the
outer
door.
]

PETE
[
rising
to
exit
]:
That’s him. [
He goes
off.
The
lights
begin
to
fade
to
blackout.
]

MARK:
[
off
]
Anyone here?

PETE:
[
off
]
Yes, how are you?

MARK:
[
off
]
Any tea?

PETE:
[
off
]
Polish tea.

[
Blackout.
The
lights
come
up
in
LEN
’
S
room
—
overhead
lamp.

LEN
is
sitting
at
the
side
of
the
table.
]

LEN:
There is my table. That is a table. There is my chair. There is my table. That is a bowl of fruit. There is my chair. There are my curtains. There is no wind. It is past night and before morning. This is my room. This is a room. There is the wall-paper, on the walls. There are six walls. Eight walls. An octagon. This room is an octagon.

There are my shoes, on my feet.

This is a journey and an ambush. This is the centre of the cold, a halt to the journey and no ambush. This is the deep grass I keep to. This is the thicket in the centre of the night and the morning. There is my hundred watt bulb like a dagger. This room moves. This room is moving. It has moved. It has reached … a dead halt. This is my fixture. There is no web. All’s clear, and abundant. Perhaps a morning will arrive. If a morning arrives, it will not destroy my fixture, nor my luxury. If it is dark in the night or light,
nothing obtrudes. I have my compartment. I am wedged. Here is my arrangement, and my kingdom. There are no voices. They make no hole in my side.

The
doorbell
rings.
LEN
searches
for
his
glasses
on
the
table,
rummaging
among
the
books.
Lifts
tablecloth.
Is
still.
Searches
in
armchair.
Then
on
mantlepiece.
Bell
rings
again.
He
searches
under
table.
Bell
rings
again.
He
rises,
looks
down,
sees
glasses
in
top
pocket
of
jacket.
Smiles,
puts
them
on.
Exits
to
open
front
door.
MARK
enters
to
below
table.
LEN
follows.

LEN:
What’s this, a suit? Where’s your carnation?

MARK:
What do you think of it?

LEN:
It’s not a schmutta.

MARK:
It’s got a zip at the hips.

LEN:
A zip at the hips? What for?

MARK:
Instead of a buckle. It’s neat.

LEN:
Neat? I should say it’s neat.

MARK:
No turn-ups.

LEN:
I can see that. Why didn’t you have turn-ups?