Cell Mates

by Simon Gray

  Blake Actually I do.

  Bourke (catarrh) Sorry, George.

  Blake I do wish you’d confine yourself to your own sty. I’ll have Zinaida clear up – Stan and Viktor will be here for lunch shortly.

  Bourke And where have you been, George?

  Blake Out. For a walk.

  Bourke Cold, eh? From the look of you.

  Blake Very. But it helped me to think. About you. About what’s happening to you.

  Bourke What’s happening to me, Georgie?

  Blake Sorry? What did you call me?

  Bourke Georgie.

  Blake I’d rather you didn’t.

  Bourke Why not?

  Blake For one thing it’s not my name.

  Bourke Well, it’s a hell of a lot closer to your name than Robert is to mine. But I’ll tell you what – if you let me call you Georgie, you can call me Bobbie. (Chuckles.)

  Blake Do you know what you’re beginning to remind me of? One of those lifers in Wormwood Scrubs. The ones who’d given up all hope.

  Bourke God, I love the ways you say ‘Wormwood Scrubs’ in, Georgie, always the whole name. ‘’Member that summer, ’58, ’59, Bobbie, delightful old place, what was it, Shrubs something Shrubs, no, no, Scrubs, that was it, wasn’t it, Bobbie, Wormwood Scrubs, delightful accommodation – if a touch cramped – splendid grounds, a mite inaccessible and the staff, Bobbie, in their splendid uniforms –’ (Laughs.)

  Blake (watches him) I came back with a resolution, Robert. A resolution that I’d help you. As a matter of urgency, actually. The greatest urgency. I was going to try to talk to you as we used to talk – remind you of the publishing opportunities you were so eager to pursue, the need to keep at these properly – (indicating typescripts) to put on your best front with Stan and Viktor so they’d start reporting back favourably to the committee –

  Bourke Oh, bugger Stan and Viktor. Bugger their committee too. If I can’t live where I want, I’ll live how I want. And how I want is like this. See.

  Blake Nevertheless I shouldn’t – if I were you – let Stan and Viktor see you like this. Not today. Especially not today. I’d go in and spruce up and sober up. If I were you.

  Bourke Well, you’re not, are you, Georgie! You’re not me! And that’s the whole difference between us!

  Blake And it’s one I’m devoutly grateful for … Listen, Robert … Is that one of my cigars?

  Bourke Yes, it is. Thank you, Georgie.

  Blake Have you been in my study?

  Bourke I just popped in to see how things were.

  Blake goes into his study. Picks up books from the floor, puts them on bookcase. Rewinds tape recorder and plays it.

  Blake (voice on recorder) … the most sophisticated eavesdropping devices then in existence. Which of course brings me to the Berlin tunnel. The Berlin tunnel was – was – oh, this is unendurable. I can’t go on with this –

  Bourke (voice on recorder) Don’t worry, George, I’ll do it for you. I’ve heard it from you so often, I know it by heart. Here we go, George. (Imitating Blake’s voice through this.) The Berlin tunnel, my tunnel as I call it because of the significant part I played in its establishment as a nerve centre for treachery, was undoubtedly the greatest achievement of the propaganda war, providing information from the Germans to the Russians, who gave it back to the Americans, who passed it on to the Turks, who handed it to the Chinese who gave it back to me. And of course the true triumph of it all was that everything that passed from country to country was a pack of lies that concluded with forty thousand top spies in the pay of their Western masters being lined up against the walls of their respective cities and being mowed down. Apart from one or two who were tossed alive into their department furnaces, and roasted before the terrified gaze of their colleagues. Pour encourager les autres, so to say. (Imitates Blake’s laugh.) I spurned such glory as came my way–

  Bourke pours himself another drink, looks at it, puts his glass on the table without drinking, in a gesture of disgust.

  Zinaida has come back into dining room to clear up. Bourke, glancing with apprehensive triumph towards Blake’s room, puts his arm around Zinaida’s waist.

  Bourke Come on then, Zin, Zin, Zin, come on, my old darling, let’s have it.

  Begins to croon ‘When Irish Eyes are Smiling’. Zinaida struggles, alarmed, looking towards Blake’s room.

  You sing, my girl! (With ferocity. Croons again.)

  Zinaida, fearfully, starts singing along with Bourke. Blake looks towards their voices, makes as if to go to door, checks himself, goes back and, with an air of determination, rewinds tape recorder. As he does so, he opens bottle of champagne, pours himself a glass, takes a sip as he presses ‘Play’. Listens to Bourke’s parody. He stands for a moment, thinking, then begins to laugh, turns off machine. Goes into dining room, carrying glass of champagne. He smiles at Bourke and Zinaida.

  Zinaida falters.

  Blake (encouragingly) No, finish, finish please.

  Zinaida and Bourke sing to the end. Blake toasts Zinaida. Then, in Russian:

  Thank you, Zinaida. Now if you’d go to the kitchen –

  Zinaida goes into kitchen.

  Well, it did occur to me. But I couldn’t quite believe it. Now it all makes sense.

  Bourke Really? What makes sense, George?

  Blake Your deterioration. It’s deliberate. An act.

  Bourke No, it’s not an act.

  Blake But it’s deliberate.

  Bourke I hope so. (Puts his hand to his head.) And I hate every minute of it. But you had to see what I could do. When I put my mind to it.

  Blake But I already know what you can do, Robert. Who better?

  Bourke Yes. But you had to experience the living with it, didn’t you? I mean, there was no point my saying I’m going to fill every corner of your life with my disgustingness – I had to fill it. And today, George, I’ve really begun – I’ll go on and on and on – every day for the next four years, nine months – and I’ll get worse. Believe me, George. I’ll get so much worse that I won’t even have to try. It’ll be first nature.

  Blake Unless?

  Bourke You know what unless.

  Blake You really think Viktor, Stan, the committee – they’ll put up with it?

  Bourke What difference does it make to them? They don’t have to live with me.

  Blake So you think I can just go to them and say, ‘For God’s sake, send him back to Ireland. I can’t tolerate another minute of him in my flat. My life.’

  Bourke That’s my belief. It has to be. Otherwise I’m without hope. A lifer –

  Blake You – without hope! I’ve seen you do five years in Wormwood Scrubs – (Nods ironically.) The Scrubs.

  Bourke That was then. I’m older now. George – believe me. Please. I’ve got to go home.

  Blake You might. Even now. If you bring all your resilience, your determination –

  Bourke I’ll put them to just one end, George. Making your life insufferable.

  Blake God! It’s not a question of my getting them to send you home, it’s never been that, it’s a question – I told you, I told you right from the start, it’s been a question of – of saving your life, Robert. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you this. That’s what I was doing this morning. I wasn’t out for a walk, I was begging Stan and Viktor to beg the committee to let you live.

  Bourke What?

  Blake In the name of God, Robert, go and make yourself presentable. Please.

  Bourke (shakily) This is serious, then?

  Blake It couldn’t be more serious. When I left it seemed on a knife-edge. They’re not letting me have any part in the decision. Come on, hurry. Hurry!

  They go into Bourke’s room.

  Bourke But why, why, why now, after they’ve got me here?

  Blake They still don’t trust you. And then from what they’ve seen of you recently, and from Zinaida’s reports of your drinking –

  Bourke Zinaida!

  Blake Of course. Surely y
ou realised that! She goes into the department once every two days –

  Bourke Oh Jesus, not Zinaida.

  Blake It’s not her fault. She’s employed by them. She gives an exact tally of how many bottles you’ve drunk, describes the state of your room, your behaviour – and of course I couldn’t argue with any of it, could I – not when they’ve seen for themselves? They think you’re, well, even if you’re not a double agent, they do believe that you’ve become unstable. And are therefore a security risk.

  Bourke And so they’re going to kill me. Kill me.

  Blake I don’t know, I don’t know what they’ll decide – it’s the picnic factor, you see.

  Bourke Picnic factor?

  Blake They may just be coming around to inspect you. (Inspects him.) And at least you’re not in your underwear and that dressing gown this time – and we can keep it up from there, can’t we? I mean, from dressed to respectable, hard-working –

  Bourke Oh Jesus, George, yes, yes. Yes. But this picnic factor –?

  Blake If they say, let’s not be dull and have lunch here, let’s go to one of the KGB’s dachas and have a picnic, I’m to say – I’ve been ordered to say – that I would rather stay here, at home, and work on my book.

  Bourke And – and I go on the picnic. (Raises his finger, points it, makes shooting noise.) Is that what you mean, George?

  Blake I don’t know, I don’t know. Perhaps they won’t know themselves until they’ve got you in the dacha and observed you on your own without me to – to protect you.

  Bourke And if I refuse to go?

  Blake Refuse to go on a picnic? With the KGB? (Suddenly remembering.) Oh, God –

  Bourke What, what!

  Blake The tapes! Your voice. If they hear your voice on the tape.

  Bourke Wipe it, George, please wipe it … Please! Please!

  Blake All right.

  Blake goes out to his room, winds tape back, etc.

  Bourke Thank you, George … Jesus! I’ve got to get out of here. Now.

  Pulls on overcoat, crams vodka bottle in pocket, seizes bag with tape recorder, hurries out. As he does so, sound of front door opening. Stan’s and Viktor’s voices greeting Zinaida. Zinaida returning greeting. Bourke stands frozen. Stan and Viktor enter.

  Stan Oh hello, Robert. All ready then?

  Viktor Well muffled up, that’s good. Though the dacha is quite warm –

  Stan We’re lucky to have got it for the afternoon. One of our best.

  Viktor We’re going on a picnic. Didn’t George tell you? If we could get a dacha – pity he won’t come too. All work, no play, makes boy a dull John.

  Stan No, no – makes John a dull boy, isn’t it, Robert?

  Bourke Jack, Jack, a dull Jack – (Moving towards door.) Makes Jack a dull boy – I’m not going on any picnic. I’m not going on any bloody picnic with the KGB.

  Bourke bursts past Stan, opens the door, hurls himself outside, slamming door.

  Curtain.

  SCENE THREE

  Six weeks later.

  Blake (sitting at desk) … but I used to be good at waiting. I mean … all those years of waiting to be caught and tried for my crimes, so-called – sometimes it was as if my crimes were merely what I did while I was waiting to be caught and tried for them. And I waited with complete serenity through my trial and sentencing. And patiently in jail until you came to get me out – but the truth is, I never knew what waiting was, Robert, until this last six weeks. It’s a very painful thing to have to do – real waiting. And in a few minutes, just a few minutes … now in fact.

  Bourke enters main room from front door. Dishevelled and clutching his bag, he bangs on the hatch.

  Bourke Zin – Zin!

  Zinaida enters, upstage left, stares out at Bourke. Blake looks towards dining room, stands up.

  A bottle please, Zin – wodka, wodka.

  Zinaida (in Russian) Oh, you poor man, you poor man – look at you!

  Bourke (urgently) Wodka please, Zin.

  Zinaida hands Bourke a bottle of vodka, staring at him, shaking her head anxiously and pityingly. Bourke opens bottle.

  Thanks, Zin, my old darling. Thank you.

  He takes a long swig. Blake comes out of his room. Zinaida closes hatch.

  Blake So here you are then.

  Bourke Been expecting me, have you?

  Blake Every day for the last six weeks. But with confidence this evening. A traffic policeman spotted you going into a barber’s shop.

  Bourke Yes. That was the last of my roubles. But I couldn’t stand all that growth. I’ve been clean-shaven all my life. I’ve been short-haired all my life. And I figured that if I was coming back to it at least I’d come back to it looking as I usually do. My face, anyway. (Little pause.) So they know, do they, Stan and Viktor? Know I’m back?

  Blake Oh, yes. They’ve been called out of some big function. That’s how important you are, Robert. You’re a much wanted man, you see.

  Bourke And they’re on their way over, are they?

  Blake They are. As always when they’re least wanted, eh? And where have you been, these last six weeks?

  Bourke Out. And about.

  Blake Out and about where, exactly?

  Bourke In the woods, mostly.

  Blake In this weather! But where did you sleep –?

  Bourke Under newspapers. Nothing else I could do. No passport. Almost no money – started turning into a tramp. By tomorrow I’d have been a beggar as well. But hard to be a beggar if you don’t know the basic words, like ‘money’, ‘food’, ‘help’. (Laughs.) Have to stand there, on street corners, silent, with my hand out. And your boys would have seen me, in the end. So – so why wait, why wait, George? (Looks at Blake.) In that condition, why wait?

  Blake (after a little pause) I see you clung on to your – (Nods to bag.)

  Bourke My what?

  Blake Your machine.

  Bourke takes out recorder, tapes. Pushes them at Blake. Blake hesitates.

  May I? (Winds back, presses ‘Play’.)

  Bourke (voice on recorder) … truth of it is, I need to hear a voice – a voice in my own language – no, the truth of it is I need to hear his voice. I’ve heard it every day for years now, it’s become a part of me, a part of my life. God, how I miss him, God, how I miss it, God how I miss him. Even though it’s because of him that I’ve come to this. I dream – almost every night I dream of them there. George and Zin, my darling Zin. And even Stan and Viktor, and in my dreams it’s like – like my family – Zin! Wodka, wodka, another bottle, please. (Laughs.) Another bottle, please. George, my friend, help me, help me!

  Blake turns off machine, puts it and tapes into Bourke’s bag.

  Bourke (in person) How long have you known?

  Blake Well, when I saw you talking into it in London. The first day – the day you got me out.

  Bourke And that’s when you planned to get me to Moscow. And to keep me here. Or did you already have it in mind when we were in the Scrubs – and we were discussing how I could help you escape? Did you, George?

  Blake I can’t remember, Robert. But I might have. Even in the Scrubs I was an officer of the KGB. A prisoner of war, so to speak. So I had to consider all the possibilities.

  Bourke Like the possibility of betraying me.

  Blake Spies betray people, Robert. That’s what we do. It becomes a – a habit. Difficult to break – even when it’s not – not strictly necessary.

  Bourke (nods to bag) So it’s always been the book that you’ve been afraid of?

  Blake Well, it does make us seem absurdly incompetent – that the KGB couldn’t do what you did. A single Irish fella. With his rope ladder and the Dormobile.

  Bourke But they didn’t even try, did they, George? That must be a galling thought, eh?

  Blake It has been now and then. Yes.

  Bourke And what’s the authorised version going to be?

  Blake We don’t know. We can’t work it out. I can’t, anyway. Every time I try
to write it up I get – (shrugs) stuck.

  Bourke Well, now I’m going to be out of the way, you’ll unstick yourself, probably.

  Blake Yes, well this brings me to the – the little matter I should have started with. You see, what happened that morning, six weeks ago – what happened –

  Sound of door opening. Stan and Viktor enter, greet Zinaida.

  (To himself.) Oh, damn! Damn, damn!

  Bourke sinks to his knees, lowers his head.

  Stan What is this – Robert, what are you doing?

  Bourke I want my picnic here. Now. In front of him.

  Stan (in Russian) So you haven’t told him? (In English) On your feet please, Robert. On your feet.

  Bourke So this is what you wear for an execution.

  Viktor Robert. This is for the dinner.

  Stan The reunion dinner. The KGB reunion dinner. Full uniform always.

  Stan Why didn’t you tell him?

  Blake It must have been – shame, I think.

  There is a pause.

  Stan Well, tell him now. Listen to him, Robert. You will hear the truth. I guarantee it.

  Blake What I was about to tell you, Robert, was that there was never any question of killing you. I – I made all that up. I knew Stan and Viktor were going to invite you on a picnic. In a dacha. And I – used it.

  Bourke (after a pause) Why?

  Blake To – well, I suppose, to teach you a lesson. A – a small counter-ploy. Your ploy was to turn yourself into something unspeakably less than yourself. So my counter was –

  Bourke To be yourself.

  Blake As I said – it’s a hard habit to break. I never expected you to run off like that. I thought you’d spend a few terrified hours in the dacha and then come back relieved to be alive, and then you’d, well, knuckle down. I should have known better, shouldn’t I?

  Stan Go on, please, George.

  Blake As for the KGB committee – Stan and Viktor – they never had the slightest intention of forcing you to stay. Not for five years. Not even for the six months.