Book Read Free

David Hare Plays 1

Page 31

by David Hare

Alice Susan, I think you should get out of this house.

  Susan Of course.

  Alice I’ll help you. Any way I can.

  Susan Well, that’s very kind.

  Alice If you …

  Susan I’ll be going just as soon as this job is done.

  Pause.

  Alice Listen, if Raymond really means what he says …

  Susan turns and looks straight at Alice.

  You haven’t even asked me, Susan, you see. You haven’t asked me yet what I think of the idea.

  Susan frowns.

  Susan Really, Alice, I shouldn’t need to ask. It’s a very sad day when one can’t help the poor …

  Alice suddenly starts to laugh. Susan sets off across the room, resuming a completely normal social manner.

  Alice For God’s sake, Susan, he’ll put you in the bin.

  Susan Don’t be silly, Alice, it’s Easter weekend. It must have occurred to you … the doctor’s away.

  Brock reappears at the open door, the address book in his hand. Susan turns to him.

  All right, Raymond? Anything I can do? I’ve managed to rout out some whisky over here.

  She sets the bottle down on the table, next to the Nembutal.

  Alice was just saying she might slip out for a while. Give us a chance to sort our problems out. I’m sure if we had a really serious talk … I could keep going till morning. Couldn’t you?

  Susan turns to Alice.

  All right, Alice?

  Alice Yes. Yes, of course. I’m going, I’m just on my way.

  She picks up her coat and heads for the door.

  All right if I get back in an hour or two? I don’t like to feel I’m intruding. You know?

  She smiles at Susan. Then closes the door. Susan at once goes back to the table. Brock stands watching her.

  Susan Now, Raymond. Good. Let’s look at this thing.

  Susan pours out a spectacularly large Scotch, filling the glass to the very rim. Then she pushes it a few inches across the table to Brock.

  Where would be the best place to begin?

  SCENE ELEVEN

  Blackpool. June 1962.

  From the dark music. Then silence. Two voices in the dark.

  Lazar Susan. Susan. Feel who I am.

  Susan I know. I know who you are. How could you be anyone else but Lazar?

  And a small bedside light comes on. Lazar and Susan are lying sideways across a double bed, facing opposite ways. They are in a sparsely furnished and decaying room. Lazar is in his coat, facing away from us as he reaches for the nightlight. Susan is also fully dressed, in a big black man’s overcoat, her hair wild, her dress crumpled round her thighs. The bedside light barely illuminates them at all.

  Jesus. Jesus. To be happy again.

  At once Susan gets up and goes into what must be the bathroom. A shaft of yellow light from the doorway falls across the bed.

  Lazar Don’t take your clothes off whatever you do.

  Susan (off) Of course not.

  Lazar That would spoil it hopelessly for me.

  Susan (off) I’m getting my cigarettes. I roll my own …

  Lazar Goodness me.

  Susan Tell you, there are no fucking flies on me.

  She has reappeared with her holdall which is crumpled and stained. She sits cross-legged on the end of the bed. She starts to roll two cigarettes.

  Lazar I am glad I found you.

  Susan I’m just glad I came.

  Lazar This place is filthy.

  Susan It’s a cheap hotel.

  Lazar They seem to serve you dust on almost everything.

  Susan You should be grateful for dust, did you know? If it weren’t for all the dust in the atmosphere, human beings would be killed by the heat of the sun.

  Lazar In Blackpool?

  Susan Well …

  Lazar Are you kidding me?

  Susan reaches into the overcoat pocket.

  Susan I was given some grass. Shall I roll it in?

  Lazar Just the simple cigarette for me.

  Susan nods.

  I hope you didn’t mind my choosing Blackpool at all. It’s just that I work near …

  Susan Don’t tell me any more.

  Lazar Susan …

  Pause.

  Will you … can you touch me again?

  Susan facing away doesn’t move, just smiles. A pause.

  Do you know how I found you? Through the BBC. I just caught that programme a few months ago. They told me you were married and based in London now. They gave me an address …

  Susan I left it weeks ago.

  Lazar I know. I gather you’ve been out on the road. But … I went, I went round and saw the man.

  Susan And how was he?

  Lazar He looked like a man who’d spent his life with you.

  Susan How can you say that?

  Lazar (smiles) Oh I’m guessing, that’s all.

  Susan smiles again.

  He said he’d only just managed to reclaim.

  Susan Oh really? That’s my fault. I gave the house away.

  Lazar He said he’d had to fight to get back into his home. There’d been some kind of trouble. Police, violence it seems …

  Susan Was he angry?

  Lazar Angry? No. He just seemed very sorry not to be with you.

  Pause. Susan stops rolling the cigarette.

  Susan Listen. I have to tell you I’ve not always been well. I have a weakness. I like to lose control. I’ve been letting it happen, well, a number of times …

  Lazar Is it …?

  Susan I did shoot someone about ten years ago.

  Lazar Did you hurt him?

  Susan Fortunately no. At least that’s what we kept telling him, you know. Raymond went and gave him money in notes. He slapped them like hot poultices all over his wounds. I think it did finally convince him on the whole. It was after Raymond’s kindness I felt I had to get engaged …

  Lazar Why do people …

  Susan Marry? I don’t know. Are you …

  Pause.

  Lazar What? Ask me anything at all.

  Susan No. It’s nothing. I don’t want to know. (She smiles again.)

  Lazar Do you ever see him?

  Susan Good gracious no. I’ve stripped away everything, everything I’ve known. There’s only one kind of dignity, that’s in living alone. The clothes you stand up in, the world you can see …

  Lazar Oh Susan …

  Susan Don’t.

  Pause. Susan is suddenly still.

  I want to believe in you. So tell me nothing. That’s best.

  Pause. Susan does not turn round. Lazar suddenly gets up, and goes to get his coat and gloves from his suitcase. Susan looks down at the unmade cigarette in her hands. Then she starts to make the roll-up again.

  Susan How long till dawn? Do you think we should go? If we wait till morning we’ll have to pay the bill. I can’t believe that can be the right thing to do.

  She smiles.

  Is there an early train, do you know? Though just where I’m going I’m not really sure. There aren’t many people who’ll have me, you know.

  Pause.

  I hope you’ll forgive me. The grass has gone in.

  She licks along the edge of the joint, then lights it. Lazar stands still, his suitcase beside him.

  Lazar I don’t know what I’d expected.

  Susan Mmm?

  Lazar What I’d hoped for, at the time I returned. Some sort of edge to the life that I lead. Some sort of feeling their death was worthwhile.

  Pause.

  Some day I must tell you. I don’t feel I’ve done well. I gave in. Always. All along the line. Suburb. Wife. Hell. I work in a corporate bureaucracy as well …

  Susan has begun to giggle.

  Susan Lazar, I’m sorry. I’m just about to go.

  Lazar What?

  Susan I’ve eaten nothing. So I just go …

  She waves vaguely with her hand. Then smiles. A pause.

  Lazar I hate, I ha
te this life that we lead.

  Susan Oh, God, here I go.

  Pause.

  Kiss me. Kiss me now as I go.

  Lazar moves towards Susan and tries to take her in his arms. But as he tries to kiss her, she falls back on to the bed, flopping down where she stays.

  Lazar removes the roach from her hand. Puts it out. Goes over and closes his case. Then picks it up. Goes to the bathroom and turns the light off. Now only the nightlight is on. Lazar goes to the door.

  Lazar A fine undercover agent will move so that nobody can ever tell he was there.

  Lazar turns the nightlight off. Darkness.

  Susan Tell me your name.

  Pause.

  Lazar Code name.

  Pause.

  Code name.

  Pause.

  Code name Lazar.

  Lazar opens the door of the room. At once music plays. Where you would expect a corridor you see the fields of France shining brilliantly in a fierce green square. The room scatters.

  SCENE TWELVE

  St Benoît, August 1944.

  The darkened areas of the room disappear and we see a French hillside in high summer. The stage picture forms piece by piece. Green, yellow, brown. Trees. The fields stretch away. A high sun. A brilliant August day. Another Frenchman stands looking down into the valley. He carries a spade, is in Wellingtons and corduroys. He is about 40, fattish with an unnaturally gloomy air.

  Then Susan appears climbing the hill. She is 19. She is dressed like a young French girl, her pullover over her shoulder. She looks radiantly well.

  Frenchman Bonjour, ma’moiselle.

  Susan Bonjour.

  Frenchman Vous regardez le village?

  Susan Oui, je suis montée la colline pour mieux voir. C’est merveilleux.

  Frenchman Oui. Indeed the day is fine.

  Pause. Susan looks across at the Frenchman.

  We understand. We know. The war is over now.

  Susan ‘I climbed the hill to get a better view.’ (She smiles.) I’ve only spoken French for months on end.

  Frenchman You are English?

  Susan nods.

  Tower Bridge.

  Susan Just so.

  The Frenchman smiles and walks over to join Susan. Together they look away down the hill.

  Frenchman You join the party in the village?

  Susan Soon. I’m hoping, yes, I’m very keen to go.

  Frenchman Myself I work. A farmer. Like any other day. The Frenchman works or starves. He is the piss. The shit. The lowest of the low.

  Susan moves forward a little, staring down the hill.

  Susan Look. They’re lighting fires in the square. And children … coming out with burning sticks.

  Pause.

  Have you seen anything as beautiful as this?

  Susan stands looking out. The Frenchman mumbles ill-humouredly.

  Frenchman The harvest is not good again this year.

  Susan I’m sorry.

  The Frenchman shrugs.

  Frenchman As I expect. The land is very poor. I have to work each moment of the day.

  Susan But you’ll be glad I think. You’re glad as well?

  Susan turns, so the Frenchman cannot avoid the question. He reluctantly concedes.

  Frenchman I’m glad. Is something good, is true. (He looks puzzled.) The English … have no feelings, yes? Are stiff.

  Susan They hide them, hide them from the world.

  Frenchman Is stupid.

  Susan Stupid, yes. It may be …

  Pause.

  Frenchman Huh?

  Susan That things will quickly change. We have grown up. We will improve our world.

  The Frenchman stares at Susan. Then offers gravely:

  Frenchman Perhaps … perhaps you like some soup. My wife.

  Susan All right.

  Susan smiles. They look at each other, about to go.

  Frenchman The walk is down the hill.

  Susan My friend.

  Pause.

  There will be days and days and days like this.

  About the Author

  David Hare was born in Sussex in 1947. He is the author of twenty-eight plays for the stage, sixteen of which have been seen at the National Theatre. These plays include Plenty, The Secret Rapture, Skylight, Amy’s View, Via Dolorosa, Stuff Happens, Gethsemane and The Power of Yes. In 1993 three plays about the Church, the Law and the Labour Party – Racing Demon, Murmuring Judges and The Absence of War – were presented in repertory in the Olivier Theatre. His many screenplays for cinema and television include Licking Hitler, Damage, The Hours and The Reader.

  By the Same Author

  PLAYS ONE

  (Slag, Teeth ’n’ Smiles, Knuckle, Licking Hitler, Plenty)

  PLAYS TWO

  (Fanshen, A Map of the World, Saigon, The Bay at Nice, The Secret Rapture)

  PLAYS THREE

  (Skylight, Amy’s View, The Judas Kiss, My Zinc Bed)

  THE GREAT EXHIBITION

  RACING DEMON

  MURMURING JUDGES

  THE ABSENCE OF WAR

  VIA DOLOROSA

  THE BREATH OF LIFE

  THE PERMANENT WAY

  STUFF HAPPENS

  THE VERTICAL HOUR

  GETHSEMANE

  BERLIN/WALL

  THE POWER OF YES

  SOUTH DOWNS

  adaptations

  THE RULES OF THE GAME by Pirandello

  THE LIFE OF GALILEO by Brecht

  MOTHER COURAGE AND HER CHILDREN by Brecht

  IVANOV by Chekhov

  THE BLUE ROOM from Reigen by Schnitzler

  PLATONOV by Chekhov

  THE HOUSE OF BERNARDA ALBA by Lorca

  ENEMIES by Gorky

  screenplays for television

  LICKING HITLER

  DREAMS OF LEAVING

  SAIGON: YEAR OF THE CAT

  HEADING HOME

  screenplays

  DAVID HARE COLLECTED SCREENPLAYS

  (Wetherby, Paris by Night, Strapless, Heading Home, Dreams of Leaving)

  PLENTY, THE SECRET RAPTURE, THE HOURS,

  THE READER, PAGE EIGHT

  opera libretto

  THE KNIFE

  prose

  ACTING UP

  ASKING AROUND: BACKGROUND TO THE DAVID HARE TRILOGY

  WRITING LEFT-HANDED

  OBEDIENCE, STRUGGLE AND REVOLT

  Copyright

  This collection first published in 1996

  by Faber and Faber Ltd

  Bloomsbury House

  74–77 Great Russell Street

  London WC1B 3DA

  This ebook edition first published in 2013

  All rights reserved

  Slag © David Hare, 1971

  Teeth ’n’ Smiles © David Hare, 1976

  Knuckle © David Hare, 1973

  Licking Hitler © David Hare, 1978

  Plenty © David Hare, 1978

  Introduction © David Hare, 1996

  This collection © David Hare, 1996

  The right of David Hare to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  In Teeth ’n’ Smiles the chorus from the song ‘How Do You Do It?’ by Mitch Murray is reprinted by kind permission of Dick James Music Ltd © 1962; the lines from Cole Porter’s ‘You’re the Top’ from the musical production of Anything Goes are used by permission of Harms Inc. Chappell & Co. © 1934; details of the bombing of the Café de Paris can be found in The Blitz by Constantine Fitzgibbon.

  All rights whatsoever in this work are strictly reserved. Applications for permission for any use whatsoever including performance rights must be made in advance, prior to any such proposed use, to Casarotto Ramsay and Associates Ltd, 4th Floor, Waverley House, 7–12 Noel Street, London W1F 8GQ. No performance may be given unless a licence has first been obtained

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, le
ased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly

  ISBN 978–0–571–30099–0

 

 

 


‹ Prev