Complete Works, Volume III

by Harold Pinter

  She was looking down.

  BATES

  Yes you can, I said.

  RUMSEY

  What are you saying?

  BATES

  I didn't hear you, she said.

  RUMSEY

  But I am looking at you. It's your head that's bent.

  Silence

  BATES

  In the morning they wake up, snort a bit, canter, sometimes, and eat.

  Silence

  ELLEN

  There aren't any.

  RUMSEY

  Don't be stupid.

  ELLEN

  I don't like them.

  RUMSEY

  You're stupid.

  Silence

  BATES

  For instance, I said, those shapes in the trees.

  ELLEN

  I walk in this wind to collide with them waiting.

  Silence

  BATES

  Sleep? Tender love? It's of no importance.

  ELLEN

  I kiss them there and say

  Silence

  RUMSEY

  I walk

  Silence

  BATES

  Caught a bus

  Silence

  ELLEN

  Certainly. I can remember the wedding.

  Silence

  RUMSEY

  I walk with my girl who wears a grey blouse

  BATES

  Caught a bus to the town. Crowds. Lights round the market

  Long silence

  Fade lights

  Revue Sketches

  NIGHT

  THAT'S YOUR TROUBLE

  THAT'S ALL

  APPLICANT

  INTERVIEW

  DIALOGUE FOR THREE

  NIGHT was first presented by Alexander H. Cohen Ltd in an entertainment entitled Mixed Doubles at the Comedy Theatre on 9th April, 1969, with the following cast:

  MAN Nigel Stock

  WOMAN Vivien Merchant

  Directed by Alexander Doré

  THAT’S YOUR TROUBLE, THAT’S ALL, APPLICANT, INTERVIEW and DIALOGUE FOR THREE were first presented on B.B.C. Radio on the Third Programme between February and March 1964.

  NIGHT

  A woman and a man in their forties.

  They sit with coffee.

  MAN. I’m talking about that time by the river.

  WOMAN. What time?

  MAN. The first time. On the bridge. Starting on the bridge.

  Pause.

  WOMAN. I can't remember.

  MAN. On the bridge. We stopped and looked down at the river. It was night. There were lamps lit on the towpath. We were alone. We looked up the river. I put my hand on the small of your waist. Don't you remember? I put my hand under your coat.

  Pause.

  WOMAN. Was it winter?

  MAN. Of course it was winter. It was when we met. It was our first walk. You must remember that.

  WOMAN. I remember walking. I remember walking with you.

  MAN. The first time? Our first walk?

  WOMAN. Yes, of course, I remember that.

  Pause.

  We walked down a road into a field, through some railings. We walked to a corner of the field and then we stood by the railings.

  MAN. No. It was on the bridge that we stopped.

  Pause.

  WOMAN. That was someone else.

  MAN. Rubbish.

  WOMAN. That was another girl.

  MAN. It was years ago. You've forgotten.

  Pause.

  I remember the light on the water.

  WOMAN. You took my face in your hands, standing by the railings. You were very gentle, you were very caring. You cared. Your eyes searched my face. I wondered who you were. I wondered what you thought. I wondered what you would do.

  MAN. You agree we met at a party. You agree with that?

  WOMAN. What was that?

  MAN. What?

  WOMAN. I thought I heard a child crying.

  MAN. There was no sound.

  WOMAN. I thought it was a child, crying, waking up.

  MAN. The house is silent.

  Pause.

  It's very late. We're sitting here. We should be in bed. I have to be up early. I have things to do. Why do you argue?

  WOMAN. I don't. I'm not. I'm willing to go to bed. I have things to do. I have to be up in the morning.

  Pause.

  MAN. A man called Doughty gave the party. You knew him. I had met him. I knew his wife. I met you there. You were standing by the window. I smiled at you, and to my surprise you smiled back. You liked me. I was amazed. You found me attractive. Later you told me. You liked my eyes.

  WOMAN. You liked mine.

  Pause.

  You touched my hand. You asked me who I was, and what I was, and whether I was aware that you were touching my hand, that your fingers were touching mine, that your fingers were moving up and down between mine.

  MAN. No. We stopped on a bridge. I stood behind you. I put my hand under your coat, onto your waist. You felt my hand on you.

  Pause.

  WOMAN. We had been to a party. Given by the Doughtys. You had known his wife. She looked at you dearly, as if to say you were her dear. She seemed to love you. I didn't. I didn't know you. They had a lovely house. By a river. I went to collect my coat, leaving you waiting for me. You had offered to escort me. I thought you were quite courtly, quite courteous, pleasantly mannered, quite caring. I slipped my coat on and looked out of the window, knowing you were waiting. I looked down over the garden to the river, and saw the lamplight on the water. Then I joined you and we walked down the road through railings into a field, must have been some kind of park. Later we found your car. You drove me.

  Pause.

  MAN. I touched your breasts.

  WOMAN. Where?

  MAN. On the bridge. I felt your breasts.

  WOMAN. Really?

  MAN. Standing behind you.

  WOMAN. I wondered whether you would, whether you wanted to, whether you would.

  MAN. Yes.

  WOMAN. I wondered how you would go about it, whether you wanted to, sufficiently.

  MAN. I put my hands under your sweater, I undid your brassiere, I felt your breasts.

  WOMAN. Another night perhaps. Another girl.

  MAN. You don't remember my fingers on your skin?

  WOMAN. Were they in your hands? My breasts? Fully in your hands?

  MAN. You don't remember my hands on your skin?

  Pause.

  WOMAN. Standing behind me?

  MAN. Yes.

  WOMAN. But my back was against railings. I felt the railings . . . behind me. You were facing me. I was looking into your eyes. My coat was closed. It was cold.

  MAN. I undid your coat.

  WOMAN. It was very late. Chilly.

  MAN. And then we left the bridge and we walked down the towpath and we came to a rubbish dump.

  WOMAN. And you had me and you told me you had fallen in love with me, and you said you would take care of me always, and you told me my voice and my eyes, my thighs, my breasts, were incomparable, and that you would adore me always.

  MAN. Yes I did.

  WOMAN. And you do adore me always.

  MAN. Yes I do.

  WOMAN. And then we had children and we sat and talked and you remembered women on bridges and towpaths and rubbish dumps.

  MAN. And you remembered your bottom against railings and men holding your hands and men looking into your eyes.

  WOMAN. And talking to me softly.

  MAN. And your soft voice. Talking to them softly at night.

  WOMAN. And they said I will adore you always.

  MAN. Saying I will adore you always.

  THAT'S YOUR TROUBLE

  Two men in a park. One on the grass, reading. The other making cricket strokes with umbrella.

  A. (stopping in mid-stroke): Eh, look at that bloke, what's he got on his back, he's got a sandwich board on his back.

  B.: What about it?

  A.:
He wants to take it off, he'll get a headache.

  B.: Rubbish.

  A.: What do you mean?

  B.: He won't get a headache.

  A.: I bet he will.

  B.: The neck! It affects his neck! He'll get a neckache.

  A.: The strain goes up.

  B.: Have you ever carried a sandwich board?

  A.: Never.

  B.: Then how do you know which way the strain goes? (Pause.) It goes down! The strain goes down, it starts with the neck and it goes down. He'll get a neckache and a backache.

  A.: He'll get a headache in the end.

  B.: There's no end.

  A.: That's where the brain is.

  B.: That's where the what is?

  A.: The brain.

  B.: It's nothing to do with the brain.

  A.: Oh, isn't it?

  B.: It won't go anywhere near his brain.

  A.: That's where you're wrong.

  B.: I'm not wrong. I'm right. (Pause.) You happen to be talking to a man who knows what he's talking about. (Pause.) His brain doesn't come into it. If you've got a strain, it goes down. It's not like heat.

  A.: What do you mean?

  B. (ferociously): If you've got a strain it goes down! Heat goes up! (Pause.)

  A.: You mean sound.

  B.: I what?

  A.: Sound goes up.

  B.: Sound goes anywhere it likes! It all depends where you happen to be standing, it's a matter of physics, that's something you're just completely ignorant of, but you just try carrying a sandwich board and you'll find out soon enough. First the neck, then the shoulders, then the back, then it worms into the buttocks, that's where it worms. The buttocks. Either the right or the left, it depends how you carry your weight. Then right down the thighs – a straight drop to his feet and he'll collapse.

  A.: He hasn't collapsed yet.

  B.: He will. Give him a chance. A headache! How can he get a headache? He hasn't got anything on his head! I'm the one who's got the headache. (Pause.) You just don't know how to listen to what other people tell you, that's your trouble.

  A.: I know what my trouble is.

  B.: You don't know what your trouble is, my friend. That's your trouble.

  THAT'S ALL

  MRS. A.: I always put the kettle on about that time.

  MRS. B.: Yes. (Pause.)

  MRS. A.: Then she comes round.

  MRS. B.: Yes. (Pause.)

  MRS. A.: Only on Thursdays.

  MRS. B.: Yes. (Pause.)

  MRS. A.: On Wednesdays I used to put it on. When she used to come round. Then she changed it to Thursdays.

  MRS. B.: Oh yes.

  MRS. A.: After she moved. When she used to live round the corner, then she always came in on Wednesdays, but then when she moved she used to come down to the butcher's on Thursdays. She couldn't find a butcher up there.

  MRS. B.: No.

  MRS. A.: Anyway, she decided she'd stick to her own butcher. Well, I thought, if she can't find a butcher, that's the best thing.

  MRS. B.: Yes. (Pause.)

  MRS. A.: So she started to come down on Thursdays. I didn't know she was coming down on Thursdays until one day I met her in the butcher.

  MRS. B.: Oh yes.

  MRS. A.: It wasn't my day for the butcher, I don't go to the butcher on Thursdays.

  MRS. B.: No, I know. (Pause.)

  MRS. A.: I go on Friday.

  MRS. B.: Yes. (Pause.)

  MRS. A.: That's where I see you.

  MRS. B.: Yes. (Pause.)

  MRS. A.: You're always in there on Fridays.

  MRS. B.: Oh yes. (Pause.)

  MRS. A.: But I happened to go in for a bit of meat, it turned out to be a Thursday. I wasn't going in for my usual weekly on Friday. I just slipped in, the day before.

  MRS. B.: Yes.

  MRS. A.: That was the first time I found out she couldn't find a butcher up there, so she decided to come back here, once a week, to her own butcher.

  MRS. B.: Yes.

  MRS. A.: She came on Thursday so she'd be able to get meat for the weekend. Lasted her till Monday, then from Monday to Thursday they'd have fish. She can always buy cold meat, if they want a change.

  MRS. B.: Oh yes. (Pause.)

  MRS. A.: So I told her to come in when she came down after she'd been to the butcher's and I'd put a kettle on. So she did. (Pause.)

  MRS. B.: Yes. (Pause.)

  MRS. A.: It was funny because she always used to come in Wednesdays. (Pause.) Still, it made a break. (Long pause.)

  MRS. B.: She doesn't come in no more, does she? (Pause.)

  MRS. A.: She comes in. She doesn't come in so much, but she comes in. (Pause.)

  MRS. B.: I thought she didn't come in. (Pause.)

  MRS. A.: She comes in. (Pause.) She just doesn't come in so much. That's all.

  APPLICANT

  An office. LAMB, a young man, eager, cheerful, enthusiastic, is striding nervously, alone. The door opens. MISS PIFFS comes in. She is the essence of efficiency.

  PIFFS: Ah, good morning.

  LAMB: Oh, good morning, miss.

  PIFFS: Are you Mr. Lamb?

  LAMB: That's right.

  PIFFS [studying a sheet of paper]: Yes, You're applying for this vacant post, aren't you?

  LAMB: I am actually, yes.

  PIFFS: Are you a physicist?

  LAMB: Oh yes, indeed. It's my whole life.

  PIFFS [languidly]: Good. Now our procedure is, that before we discuss the applicant's qualifications we like to subject him to a little test to determine his psychological suitability. You've no objection?

  LAMB: Oh, good heavens, no.

  PIFFS: Jolly good.

  MISS PIFFS has taken some objects out of a drawer and goes to LAMB. She places a chair for him.

  PIFFS: Please sit down. [He sits.] Can I fit these to your palms?

  LAMB [affably]: What are they?

  PIFFS: Electrodes.

  LAMB: Oh yes, of course. Funny little things.

  She attaches them to his palms.

  PIFFS: Now the earphones.

  She attaches earphones to his head.

  LAMB: I say how amusing.

  PIFFS: Now I plug in.

  She plugs in to the wall.

  LAMB [a trifle nervously]: Plug in, do you? Oh yes, of course. Yes, you'd have to, wouldn't you?

  MISS PIFFS perches on a high stool and looks down on LAMB.

  This help to determine my . . . my suitability does it?

  PIFFS: Unquestionably. Now relax. Just relax. Don't think about a thing.

  LAMB: No.

  PIFFS: Relax completely. Rela-a-a-x. Quite relaxed?

  LAMB nods. MISS PIFFS presses a button on the side of her stool. A piercing high pitched buzz-hum is heard. LAMB jolts rigid. His hands go to his earphones. He is propelled from the chair. He tries to crawl under the chair. MISS PIFFS watches, impassive. The noise stops. LAMB peeps out from under the chair, crawls out, stands, twitches, emits a short chuckle and collapses in the chair.

  PIFFS: Would you say you were an excitable person?

  LAMB: Not – not unduly, no. Of course, I—

  PIFFS: Would you say you were a moody person?

  LAMB: Moody? No, I wouldn't say I was moody – well, sometimes occasionally I—

  PIFFS: Do you ever get fits of depression?

  LAMB: Well, I wouldn't call them depression exactly—

  PIFFS: Do you often do things you regret in the morning?

  LAMB: Regret? Things I regret? Well, it depends what you mean by often, really – I mean when you say often—

  PIFFS: Are you often puzzled by women?

  LAMB: Women?

  PIFFS: Men.

  LAMB: Men? Well, I was just going to answer the question about women—

  PIFFS: Do you often feel puzzled?

  LAMB: Puzzled?

  PIFFS: By women.

  LAMB: Women?

  PIFFS: Men.

  LAMB: Oh, now just a minute, I . . . Look, do you want
separate answers or a joint answer?

  PIFFS: After your day's work do you ever feel tired? Edgy? Fretty? Irritable? At a loose end? Morose? Frustrated? Morbid? Unable to concentrate? Unable to sleep? Unable to eat? Unable to remain seated? Unable to remain upright? Lustful? Indolent? On heat? Randy? Full of desire? Full of energy? Full of dread? Drained? of energy, of dread? of desire?

  Pause.

  LAMB [thinking]: Well, it's difficult to say really . . .

  PIFFS: Are you a good mixer?

  LAMB: Well, you've touched on quite an interesting point there—

  PIFFS: Do you suffer from eczema, listlessness, or falling coat?

  LAMB: Er . . .

  PIFFS: Are you virgo intacta?

  LAMB: I beg your pardon?

  PIFFS: Are you virgo intacta?

  LAMB: Oh, I say, that's rather embarrassing. I mean – in front of a lady—

  PIFFS: Are you virgo intacta?

  LAMB: Yes, I am, actually. I'll make no secret of it.

  PIFFS: Have you always been virgo intacta?

  LAMB: Oh yes, always. Always.

  PIFFS: From the word go?

  LAMB: Go? Oh yes, from the word go.

  PIFFS: Do women frighten you?

  She presses a button on the other side of her stool. The stage is plunged into redness, which flashes on and off in time with her questions.

  PIFFS [building]: Their clothes? Their shoes? Their voices? Their laughter? Their stares? Their way of walking? Their way of sitting? Their way of smiling? Their way of talking? Their mouths? Their hands? Their feet? Their shins? Their thighs? Their knees? Their eyes? Their [Drumbeat]. Their [Drumbeat]. Their [Cymbal bang]. Their [Trombone chord]. Their [Bass note].

  LAMB [in a high voice]: Well it depends what you mean really—

  The light still flashes. She presses the other button and the piercing buzz-hum is heard again. LAMB’S hands go to his earphones. He is propelled from the chair, falls, rolls, crawls, totters and collapses.