Cell Mates

by Simon Gray

  Bourke, hurriedly and amply filling his glass with vodka, raises it.

  Bourke To Madeleine. The perfect embodiment.

  They clink glasses. Blake begins to shake, then lets out a howl of laughter. Bourke stares at him in bewilderment, then, realising, also lets out a howl of laughter. They rock and shake with laughter.

  Oh, Jesus – Oh, Jesus, George –

  Blake Oh God, oh dear God –!

  Bourke I thought you’d gone mad on me, George. Around the bend, I thought you’d gone, and out of sight.

  Blake Although of course the fact that I don’t think about them doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love them if I did think about them.

  Bourke But there’s no point if you can help it. She’s gone. And they’re gone. The kiddies.

  Blake Kiddies. They’re not kiddies, Robert. They’re children. My children. Please.

  Bourke Sorry, George. Children.

  Blake And one day I might even see them again. Who knows? And I wonder what I’ll make – or they’ll make – and on Tuesday, Robert. It’s been quite hard for me. To think of you – your heart and mind intent on Tuesday. As if you’re being released from prison at last. The prison of me. You’ve put in your six months. And so now –

  Bourke Oh, George! That’s not it!

  Blake You had the same spring in your step, the same roll to your gait, the same joie de vivre, humming, singing, almost prancing and dancing, when you were doing your last few days in Wormwood Scrubs. And of course trying not to let me see it – out of delicacy for my feelings. A delicate chap, is our Robert. (Nods at him.) When it comes to feelings.

  Bourke Not delicate enough, it seems. It’s not you I’m wanting away from, George. Ever. It’s just the need – the need to be home again. You know that. Like some animal, wounded animal –

  Blake Yes. Some wounded animal. Lolling about in the pubs of Dublin.

  Bourke laughs, slightly shamefaced.

  Lionised you’ll be, won’t you? That’s the only animal part of your future, Robert. (Smiles at him.)

  Bourke I’ll stay on a little longer, if you want. A few days. A week even.

  Blake Oh dear God, this is awful! Awful! (Paces about in agitation.) Help me, Robert! Help me!

  Bourke How, George? How can I? Even if I stay on a bit, our time is up.

  Sound of door opening. Stan’s and Viktor’s voices in the hall, greeting Zinaida in Russian.

  Blake (under his breath) Oh, damn! Damn, damn!

  Bourke looks at him, confused. Stan and Viktor enter. There is a tense pause. Stan and Viktor look enquiringly at Blake.

  (In English.) Stan. Viktor. Good evening.

  Stan George. Robert.

  Viktor Good evening, Robert, good evening.

  Stan Good evening.

  Bourke Haven’t seen you two for a while. How’s everything on the Western front? (Laughs awkwardly.) Home front, I meant to say.

  Stan (attempting easiness – badly) Oh, my wife’s recently widowed aunt has moved in with us. I begin to understand now why her late husband drank and beat her. She is a terrible nuisance. (Laughs, shakes his head.)

  Bourke Who was it said, ‘Nobody ever left me anything but relatives to look after’? Dickens, wasn’t it?

  Stan Dickens?

  Bourke Charles Dickens. Wasn’t it, George?

  Stan Oh, Charles Dickens! Yes. A great writer. Much worshipped. Here. In Russia.

  Bourke Yes, I’ve seen his books when you’ve taken me out to the shops. Well, I think they must be his, because there’s his photograph on the back. (Laughs.)

  Viktor Still making no progress with our language then, Robert?

  Bourke No, my eyes go funny when I see the letters, and my hearing goes off when I listen to the sounds. Not a word, not a word – but Ludmilla, how’s her sprained ankle, Viktor?

  Viktor Completely cured. So she’s probably thinking how to sprain the other one. She’s too fat now to be anything but a thrower of the discus.

  Stan Discus thrower.

  Viktor Yes. Of course. Discus thrower. So perhaps I’ll put her on steroids. For the next Olympics, eh?

  There is laughter. Then another tense pause.

  Well, George? What’s the situation?

  Blake What will you have?

  Raps on the hatch.

  Tea, coffee, a glass of champagne?

  Stan Nothing, thank you. We’re here for a minute only. To see how everything is.

  Blake Are you sure?

  Stan Yes.

  Zinaida enters. She looks to Stan and Viktor. Both shake their heads, grimly. Zinaida makes to go out.

  Blake Ah! – but there’s one thing. Zinaida – just a minute! (Turns to Bourke. In English.) Robert, give them a performance, Stan and Viktor! Robert may not have learnt any Russian but – go on, Robert.

  Bourke Oh now, George, I don’t think Stan and Viktor –

  Stan Oh, no. Please. (Gestures politely.)

  Viktor Yes. Please. Whatever it is.

  Bourke hesitates, then begins to croon ‘Danny Boy’ at Zinaida. Zinaida, anxious and embarrassed, looks from Stan, to Viktor, to Blake.

  Blake (in Russian) Please, Zinaida. The comrades want to hear you.

  Stan and Viktor nod unenthusiastic encouragement. Bourke starts ‘Danny Boy’ again. Zinaida joins in. Bourke drops out, leaving Zinaida to sing through, charmingly, words incomprehensible to her, to the end. Stiff laughter and applause from Bourke, Stan, Viktor, Blake.

  Stan (in Russian, to Zinaida) Thank you, Zinaida. Now please leave us.

  Zinaida runs off to the kitchen, giggling with pleasure and embarrassment. There is a pause.

  (In Russian, to Blake) Well, it’s obvious that you haven’t told him.

  Blake (in Russian) I was just about to. When you turned up. (In English.) It was going to be my next sentence, Robert. Or next but one. If Stan and Viktor hadn’t appeared. You see.

  Bourke What?

  Blake Stan and Viktor. And their committee. Don’t want you to go back to Ireland on Tuesday. Nor – nor – in fact, nor in the immediate future, Robert.

  Bourke (after a pause) But we had an agreement. Six months was the agreement. And they’re up. My six months is up.

  Blake Things have changed, Robert.

  Bourke Changed? Changed how? Why?

  Stan They found the car you left in – in – (Looks at Viktor.)

  Viktor Harvist Road.

  Stan Yes. And they’ve traced it to you. They have your name. Photographs. Your prison record. They know everything about you.

  Viktor Except where you are.

  Bourke But – what does it matter if they know who I am, or where I am, as long as I’m in Dublin?

  Stan You’d almost certainly be extradited to Britain. To stand trial.

  Viktor The committee has taken expert legal advice –

  Bourke I don’t believe it, Viktor. I know my own people. They’d never give me up. Not to the old John Bull. They wouldn’t.

  Blake They would in the current political climate, Robert. You wouldn’t be a political refugee, you see. Just a criminal. On the run. I do know about these things. My years in the Consulate – you’d be extradited.

  Bourke Well – well, that’s my risk. I’m ready to take it.

  Stan But you wouldn’t just be taking it for yourself, Robert.

  Viktor You’d be taking it for all those people who helped you in London.

  Blake Nigel and Annie. Dick. The doctor –

  Bourke But even if I’m extradited – which I don’t accept – I don’t accept – you’re not thinking I’d give their names to the English police? I’d die before I betrayed Annie and Nigel. And – and the rest of them. You know that, George!

  Stan We all know that, Robert. But you wouldn’t only be having deals with the English police. Not once they know you’ve been to Moscow. Met Viktor and me. Stayed with George. No, you would be having deals with very different sorts of people. Believe me, Robert. One of our agents in London – not
even an important one – when they’d finished with him – (Gestures to Viktor.)

  Viktor I visit him every month. One of my duties of compassion. He is in a clinic. He will be in the clinic for the rest of his life. His nervous system is so ‘no hope’ that he is almost a complete – what word? (Says Russian word for ‘imbecile’.)

  Stan Fool. Idiot. Silly person.

  Blake Imbecile.

  Viktor Yes. Thank you, imbecile.

  Blake Not at all, Viktor.

  Viktor Sorry? Yes? What – ah – (Confused.) Yes, Teodor. Poor Teodor. He can no longer arrange the chess pieces on the board. He was our champion, Robert. Chess champion of the KGB. The imbecile. (Shakes his head sadly.)

  Stan We do not want this to happen to you, Robert.

  Viktor You are too precious to us.

  There is a pause.

  Bourke Well, well – I was just saying to George. I can stay on a few more days. A week. A few more weeks. (Pause.) Well then – well then – how much longer? I could do another month. Time for the dust to settle. (Looks at their faces.) Two even. (With an effort.) Three?

  Blake It will have to be years, Robert.

  Bourke Years, years, how many years? How many?

  Blake Five, Robert.

  Bourke (in a whisper) Five years! (Staring around at their faces.) But what do I do here – what do I do – for another five years? Eh, George? (Little pause, then supplicatingly.) George?

  Stan We will assist you to pursue a career in publishing. For which you have great gifts, Robert.

  Viktor Yes, who is this droll chap from the Ukraine, our Moscow publishers ask. Who is this Robert Adamovich Garvin, who makes such excellent and witty corrections to our old-fashioned English translations.

  Blake Well, there you are, Robert. Witty and excellent. Words that equally applied to your editorship of the Wormwood Scrubs house magazine. I doubt that they’ll ever be applied to my own literary effort. I sound like a pompous liar. In every sentence I – (Shakes his head.)

  Bourke (interrupting) It’s not the – the notion that I might do a book of my own, is it? These extra five years?

  There is a pause. Blake, Stan, Viktor look at each other, as if puzzled.

  Stan What do you mean, Robert? Haven’t we explained?

  Viktor We’re thinking of you. And your friends.

  Bourke Still, I want you to know – and your committee to know – that not a word of my part in George’s escape will come out when I get home. As far as I’m concerned all the glory can belong to the KGB. All right? And here’s my hand on it.

  He holds his hand out to Viktor, who shakes it. Then to Stan, who shakes it. Then to Blake – then withdraws it.

  No, I don’t have to do this with you, do I, George? It would be an insult to the two of us.

  Blake Yes, it would. Though yours is a hand I always like to shake, Robert. In almost any circumstances.

  Holds his hand out to Bourke. Bourke takes Blake’s hand. They shake, solemnly.

  Bourke Thank you, George. Well, there we are then. That’s settled then. All understood and cleared up. Your real worry you don’t have to worry about.

  Stan (beaming) I shall pass your undertaking straight on to the committee. You will publish nothing about George’s escape.

  Bourke That’s it.

  Viktor And you agree to remain with us for another five years.

  Bourke No. No.

  Blake It’s all settled then, Robert.

  Bourke No.

  Blake All settled, Robert.

  Stan Our thanks, Robert. On behalf of the KGB.

  Viktor Speaking in person, Robert, I’m glad you agree to stay with us. I would be sorry to lose you. You bring us much funniness.

  Stan (to Blake) Fun is the word, yes?

  Blake Yes. No. Well, he brings us both.

  Bourke Fun and funniness I bring you, do I? For the next five years. Thank you. (Laughs dully.)

  Stan You have made a wise choice.

  Embraces Bourke.

  Viktor Yes. Very wise.

  Embraces Bourke.

  Stan (in Russian) We will talk about your book, George. Very soon.

  Viktor (in Russian) If I can give help –

  Blake (in Russian) Thank you. Goodnight.

  Stan and Viktor (in Russian) Goodnight.

  Go out, calling ‘goodnights’ to Zinaida in Russian en route. She answers them. There is a pause.

  Bourke So you knew all the time. And you couldn’t tell me.

  Blake I can’t tell you how badly, how badly I feel –

  Bourke You feel. You feel. But I’m the one who’s doing the facing here, the facing of five years, so let’s talk for once about my feelings here, George. About them. Let’s talk about them!

  Blake Yes. (Little pause.) Well – let’s talk about them. Your feelings.

  Bourke I haven’t got anything to say. You know my feelings.

  Blake Yes. One thing, though. Why I so much wanted you not to want to go so much – was that you wouldn’t mind so much being obliged to stay. You see.

  Bourke (laughs) Very daintily put, George. Very daintily put.

  Blake What I mean is – what I mean is! That I didn’t want you to go for my sake. As I’ve already made clear. But by God, by God, Robert, I did want you to go for your sake. I wanted that far more. Far more than what I wanted for myself. Do you think I don’t know I owe you that? Do you think I don’t know you deserve it! All I’ve ever wanted since you got me out of Wormwood Scrubs is to pay you back. And all I’ve succeeded in doing is to trap you in a plight that gets worse. And worse.

  Bourke Oh well, what the hell. (Laughs.)

  Blake (looks at him, astonished.) What?

  Bourke You’ve got your bad feelings, I’ve got my five years, but when you come to look at it, George, the last six months – we’ve had good times, a lot of laughs.

  Blake Yes. We have.

  Bourke And there may be something in this publishing career Stan and Viktor are urging me into. I’ll learn everything there is to know about the business. When I get back to Dublin, five years from now, I’ll set up on my own. Control the Russian market. That’s how I’ve got to look at it. I’m going to spend the next five years teaching myself a good business. Making a future for myself. I choose – yes, that’s it – I choose to spend my next five years here. And as I’ll be spending them with you, George –

  Blake They’ll pass in a flash. I’ll see to it.

  Bourke We’ll have more good times, George. (Raises his glass.)

  Blake To more good times! To all the more good times!

  Blake hesitates, then comes into Bourke’s open arms.

  Bourke Goodnight, George. Till tomorrow. Until tomorrow. The start of a new day. (Picks up the vodka bottle.) By way of a new dawn.

  Blake A new dawn. And a new day.

  They separate, go to their rooms. Pause at their doors. Turn. Look at each other, make to speak, nod and smile at each other. Blake sits down at his desk, very still. Thinking. Bourke goes straight to the tape recorder, presses ‘Record’ button, makes to speak straight into it, microphone in one hand, vodka bottle in the other, turns machine off, sits, in distress, thinking. Blake leans forward, stabs ‘Record’ button, speaks.

  Every time I hear the words ‘treacherous’ and ‘deceitful’ applied to me I find myself reflecting on those groups of men who in their day were similarly described and with whom I have much, I believe, in common. Those Roman Catholic priests, say, who during the Reformation were not thought to be just wicked or evil, but were – like me – thought to be agents of the Devil himself. Like me, they were forced to go about their life’s tasks in secret. Like me, their purity of intention was only preserved through many forms of duplicity. A sacred duplicity of the heart and of the soul in the name of their God, as they like me, and I like them, sought to bring about a Kingdom of Heaven on earth. (Little pause, as he loses control of the line of thought.) Let me proceed with this thought. But do I have to proceed
with this thought? What is it about, this thought? It’s about justifying the betrayal of the man who brought me out of captivity, back into life and freedom. The only man who could have done it. The single. Yes, the single Irish fella did it. Did do it. (Little pause.) How ridiculous. Ridiculous that I should –

  He turns off the machine, sits, thinking.

  Makes to start machine again. Stops himself.

  Bourke simultaneously makes to start machine, stops himself. Raises vodka bottle to his lips. Notes that it’s almost empty.

  Bourke Hah! That’s it, that’s it, of course that’s it!

  Goes out, strides to hatch, bangs on it.

  Zinaida, Zinaida! Zin, Zin!

  Zinaida opens hatch, sees Bourke, grins.

  Zinaida (in Russian) Another vodka?

  Bourke (in English) Another wodka. Yes. Another wodka. Please, Zin.

  Zinaida vanishes then re-enters and plonks a bottle of vodka in front of Bourke, who grabs it.

  That’s my lovely Zin. Here’s what we’re going to work on. Starting tomorrow, my Zin, Zin of my heart. My darling. Here’s one to drive any sane man to his doom.

  Begins to croon ‘When Irish Eyes are Smiling’. Zinaida stares at him, transfixed. Blake makes to speak into machine, stops, stares towards dining room, as Bourke’s voice rises to higher and higher notes on ‘When Irish Eyes are Smiling’.

  Lights.

  SCENE TWO

  Blake enters, in overcoat and hat. Blake looks at Bourke, the table, in disgust.

  Bourke Morning, George. (Pouring himself a vodka.)

  Blake Actually, it’s the afternoon. Still at your breakfast, I see.

  Bourke Only just begun it.

  Blake (indicating typescripts) What’s all this doing in here?

  Bourke Oh, it’s become such a muddle in there (nodding to his room) I’ve decided to spill over. I hope you don’t mind.