Harold Pinter Plays 2 (24 page)

SARAH.
I shouldn’t think so.

MAX.
Why not?

SARAH.
You’ve got very little in common.

MAX.
Have we? He’s certainly very accommodating. I mean, he knows perfectly well about these afternoons of ours, doesn’t he?

SARAH.
Of course.

MAX.
He’s known for years.

Slight
pause.

Why does he put up with it?

SARAH.
Why are you suddenly talking about him? I mean what’s the point of it? It isn’t a subject you normally elaborate on.

MAX.
Why does he put up with it?

SARAH.
Oh, shut up.

MAX.
I asked you a question.

Pause.

SARAH.
He doesn’t mind.

MAX.
Doesn’t he?

Slight
pause.

Well, I’m beginning to mind.

Pause.

SARAH.
What did you say.

MAX.
I’m beginning to mind.

Slight
pause.

It’s got to stop. It can’t go on.

SARAH.
Are you serious?

Silence.

MAX.
It can’t go on.

SARAH.
You’re joking.

MAX.
No, I’m not.

SARAH.
Why? Because of my husband? Not because of my husband, I hope. That’s going a little far, I think.

MAX.
No, nothing to do with your husband. It’s because of my wife.

Pause.

SARAH.
Your wife?

MAX.
I can’t deceive her any longer.

SARAH.
Max …

MAX.
I’ve been deceiving her for years. I can’t go on with it. It’s killing me.

SARAH.
But darling, look –

MAX.
Don’t touch me.

Pause.

SARAH.
What did you say?

MAX.
You heard.

Pause.

SARAH.
But your wife … knows. Doesn’t she? You’ve told her … all about us. She’s known all the time.

MAX.
No, she doesn’t know. She thinks I know a whore, that’s all. Some spare-time whore, that’s all. That’s what she thinks.

SARAH.
Yes, but be sensible … my love … she doesn’t mind, does she?

MAX.
She’d mind if she knew the truth, wouldn’t she?

SARAH.
What truth? What are you talking about?

MAX.
She’d mind if she knew that, in fact … I’ve got a full-time mistress, two or three times a week, a woman of grace, elegance, wit, imagination –

SARAH.
Yes, yes, you have –

MAX.
In an affair that’s been going on for years.

SARAH.
She doesn’t mind, she wouldn’t mind – she’s happy, she’s happy.

Pause.

I wish you’d stop this rubbish, anyway.

She
picks
up
the
tea-tray
and
moves
towards
the
kitchen.

You’re doing your best to ruin the whole afternoon.

She
takes
the
tray
out.
She
then
returns,
looks
at
MAX
and
goes
to
him.

Darling. You don’t really think you could have what we have with your wife, do you? I mean, my husband, for instance, completely appreciates that I –

MAX.
How does he bear it, your husband? How does he bear it? Doesn’t he smell me when he comes back in the evenings? What does he
say
? He must be mad. Now – what’s the time – half-past four – now when he’s sitting in his office, knowing what’s going on here, what does he
feel
, how does he bear it?

SARAH.
Max –

MAX.
How?

SARAH.
He’s happy for me. He appreciates the way I am. He understands.

MAX.
Perhaps I should meet him and have a word with him.

SARAH.
Are you drunk?

MAX.
Perhaps I should do that. After all, he’s a man, like me. We’re both men. You’re just a bloody woman.

She
slams
the
table.

SARAH.
Stop it! What’s the matter with you? What’s happened to you? (
Quietly.
)
Please, please, stop it. What are you doing, playing a game?

MAX.
A game? I don’t play games.

SARAH.
Don’t you? You do. Oh, you do. You do. Usually I like them.

MAX.
I’ve played my last game.

SARAH.
Why?

Slight
pause.

MAX.
The children.

Pause.

SARAH.
What?

MAX.
The children. I’ve got to think of the children.

SARAH.
What children?

MAX.
My children. My wife’s children. Any minute now they’ll be out of boarding school. I’ve got to think of them.

She
sits
close
to
him.

SARAH.
I want to whisper something to you. Listen. Let me whisper to you. Mmmm? Can I? Please? It’s whispering time. Earlier it was teatime, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? Now it’s whispering time.

Pause.

You like me to whisper to you. You like me to love you, whispering. Listen. You mustn’t worry about … wives, husbands, things like that. It’s silly. It’s really silly. It’s you, you now, here, here with me, hére together, that’s
what it is, isn’t it? You whisper to me, you take tea with me, you do that, don’t you, that’s what we are, that’s us, love me.

He
stands
up.

MAX.
You’re too bony.

He
walks
away.

That’s what it is, you see. I could put up with everything if it wasn’t for that. You’re too bony.

SARAH.
Me? Bony? Don’t be ridiculous.

MAX.
I’m not.

SARAH.
How can you say I’m bony?

MAX.
Every move I make, your bones stick into me. I’m sick and tired of your bones.

SARAH.
What are you talking about?

MAX.
I’m telling you you’re too bony.

SARAH.
But I’m fat! Look at me. I’m plump anyway. You always told me I was plump.

MAX.
You were plump once. You’re not plump any more.

SARAH.
Look at me.

He
looks.

MAX.
You’re not plump enough. You’re nowhere near plump enough. You know what I like. I like enormous women. Like bullocks with udders. Vast great uddered bullocks.

SARAH.
You mean cows.

MAX.
I don’t mean cows. I mean voluminous great uddered feminine bullocks. Once, years ago, you vaguely resembled one.

SARAH.
Oh, thanks.

MAX.
But now, quite honestly, compared to my ideal …

He
stares
at
her.

… you’re skin and bone.

They
stare
at
each
other.

He
puts
on
his
jacket.

SARAH.
You’re having a lovely joke.

MAX.
It’s no joke.

He
goes
out.
She
looks
after
him.
She
turns,
goes
slowly
towards
the
bongo
drum,
picks
it
up,
puts
it
in
the
cup
board.
She
turns,
looks
at
chaise
a
moment,
walks
slowly
into
the
bedroom,
sits
on
the
end
of
the
bed.
The
lights
fade.

Fade
up.
Early
evening.
Six
chimes
of
the
clock.
RICHARD
comes
in
the
front
door.
He
is
wearing
his
sober
suit.
He
puts
his
briefcase
in
cupboard,
hat
on
hook,
looks
about
the
room,
pours
a
drink.
SARAH
comes
into
the
bedroom
from
bathroom,
wearing
a
sober
dress.
They
both
stand
quite
still
in
the
two
rooms
for
a
few
moments.
SARAH
moves
to
the
balcony,
looks
out,
RICHARD
comes
into
the
bedroom.

RICHARD.
Hello.

Pause.

SARAH.
Hello.

RICHARD.
Watching the sunset?

He
picks
up
a
bottle.

Drink?

SARAH.
Not at the moment, thank you.

RICHARD.
Oh, what a dreary conference. Went on all day. Terribly fatiguing. Still, good work done, I think. Something achieved. Sorry I’m rather late. Had to have a drink with one or two of the overseas people. Good chaps.

He
sits.

How are you?

SARAH.
Fine.

RICHARD.
Good.

Silence.

You seem a little depressed. Anything the matter?

SARAH.
No.

RICHARD.
What sort of day have you had?

SARAH.
Not bad.

RICHARD.
Not good?

Pause.

SARAH.
Fair.

RICHARD.
Oh, I’m sorry.

Pause.

Good to be home, I must say. You can’t imagine what a comfort it is.

Pause.

Lover come?

She
does
not
reply.

Sarah?

SARAH.
What? Sorry. I was thinking of something

RICHARD.
Did your lover come?

SARAH.
Oh yes. He came.

RICHARD.
In good shape?

SARAH.
I have a headache actually.

RICHARD.
Wasn’t he in good shape?

Pause.

SARAH.
We all have our off days.

RICHARD.
He, too? I thought the whole point of being a lover is that one didn’t. I mean if I, for instance, were called upon to fulfil the function of a lover and felt disposed, shall we say, to accept the job, well, I’d as soon give it up as be found incapable of executing its proper and consistent obligation.

SARAH.
You do use long words.

RICHARD.
Would you prefer me to use short ones?

SARAH.
No, thank you.

Pause.

RICHARD.
But I am sorry you had a bad day.

SARAH.
It’s quite all right.

RICHARD.
Perhaps things will improve.

SARAH.
Perhaps.

Pause.

I hope so.

She
leaves
the
bedroom,
goes
into
the
living-room,
lights
a
cigarette
and
sits.
He
follows.

RICHARD.
Nevertheless, I find you very beautiful.

SARAH.
Thank you.

RICHARD.
Yes, I find you very beautiful. I have great pride in being seen with you. When we’re out to dinner, or at the theatre.

SARAH.
I’m so glad.

RICHARD.
Or at the Hunt Ball.

SARAH.
Yes, the Hunt Ball.

RICHARD.
Great pride, to walk with you as my wife on my arm. To see you smile, laugh, walk, talk, bend, be still. To hear your command of contemporary phraseology, your delicate use of the very latest idiomatic expression, so subtly employed. Yes. To feel the envy of others, their attempts to gain favour with you, by fair means or foul, your austere grace confounding them. And to know you are my wife. It’s a source of a profound satisfaction to me.