by David Hare
Toby Yes.
Kyra I was on the beach, but I was in London, with you, as you tore at the envelopes, opening the envelopes with your big hands. I could see you. The overwhelming power of thought.
Tom stirs as soon as she resumes.
Then of course I got back. I said to you, ‘Tom, those letters I wrote …’ You said to me, ‘Yes, don’t worry, it’s fine, there’s a safe in our house. It’s upstairs in the attic. There’s no reason Alice would ever go near …’
Toby No.
Kyra Then, later, that morning. My first question to you on the phone: ‘How did she find them?’ ‘Oh,’ you said …
Toby Sure …
Kyra Just for the night, you’d left them tucked away in the kitchen.
Toby That’s right.
He moves in, wanting to defend himself.
But I told you, the night before I’d got them out to read them. I admit, I’d had a few drinks. Alice was asleep. I thought, I’m going to wake her if I go up to the attic.
He stops a second, trying to make his explanation as smooth as possible.
So I thought, just for this evening, I’ll hide them in the kitchen. Then later I’ll put them back.
Kyra But?
Toby Oh, for Christ’s sake, you know what happened. I was going out to work and … Look, I don’t know … Frank had been waiting, he was bullying me, telling me I had to hurry up. For whatever reason … I went off to work, and yes, I forgot!
Kyra You left them in the kitchen.
Toby Look, I’m not saying it was highly intelligent. I mean, at the time, I said it was crazy. I told you: it was stupid. It was remiss.
Kyra No, it wasn’t remiss, Tom. It was deliberate.
There is a sudden silence. You can see Tom thinking how he is going to respond, whether to protest, or to consent.
Please, please don’t start lying! Whatever you do, don’t start lying to me!
Tom stands, chastened by her reaction. Then her own anguish begins urgently to appear.
Of course. Do you think I’m proud of it? Do you think it was easy? Just to walk out of your lives? Every day, I’ve thought of the wreckage, of what must have happened to Alice and you. But I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t. Breeze in to Alice and say, ‘Please understand, in my mind I never betrayed you. Really, I promise you, you have our everlasting love and respect …’?
She smiles bitterly at the absurdity of it.
Do you think we could have been happy? You and me? Happy like murderers, perhaps. And all the time I’d be thinking: the one thing … the one thing I asked him never to do … he went off and did it deliberately.
Toby Kyra, that just isn’t true!
He turns away, knowing he cannot argue any more. And his concession calms her.
Kyra We had six years of happiness. And it was you who had to spoil it. With you, when something is right, it’s never enough. You don’t value happiness. You don’t even realise. Because you always want more.
She is beginning to be upset by what she is saying. He knows it is true.
It’s part of the restlessness, it’s part of your boyishness. You say you knew that I loved and valued your family. You knew how much you were loved. But that can’t be true. Well, can it? Because if you’d realised, why would you have thrown it away?
She looks at him, completely sincere.
I love you, for God’s sake. I still love you. I loved you more than anyone on earth. But I’ll never trust you, after what happened. It’s what Alice said. You’ll never grow up. There is no peace in you. I know this. For me there is no comfort. There’s no sense of rest. The energy’s wonderful. Oh God, I tell you the energy’s what everyone needs. But with the energy comes the restlessness. And I can’t live in that way.
Toby (serious now, pleading, unflinching) You wanted a family. You say what you loved was family. I’m happy to start a family again.
Kyra No. It’s too late. And you know it.
Toby Do I? Yes, I suppose that I do.
The doorbell rings. She turns and looks to it. They are both standing, some way between them. Tom does not move.
Toby The point is, I lived a long time next to cancer. Apart from anything it fucks up your brain. You start thinking things are deliberate. That everything’s some kind of judgement. And once you think that, you might as well die.
The bell rings again. She opens the window to call down to the street.
Kyra He’s coming.
But he does not move. She picks up the bag he brought the whisky in, and puts the remains inside.
Your whisky.
But he does not take it.
Toby I came here today, wanting forgiveness. I thought you’d say, well, OK. Things do just happen, that’s how it is. The world’s not a court. Most things are chance. That’s what I’m saying. A girl of eighteen walks down the King’s Road … And in that girl, there’s infinite potential. I suppose I just wanted some of that back.
His appeal to her has been so sincere and from the heart that she cannot answer. The bell rings again. Tom smiles grimly, giving way to the inevitable. He moves across the room and kisses her on the cheek.
Goodbye.
Kyra Goodbye, then.
Tom looks at her a moment, then moves to the door, but turns back before he goes.
Toby At least, if nothing more, come to one of the restaurants. There are one or two which are really not bad. I promise you, you know, on a good night, it’s almost as nice as eating at home.
He turns without looking at her and walks out of the room, closing the door behind. She listens to the sound of him going off down the stairs. She looks a moment round the room, turns out the lights, then goes across to the little heater, and pulls the plug out. The red glow dies.
SCENE TWO
From the darkness, morning light begins to shine at the window. It is in a small white square, throwing eerie shadows across the chilly room. Nothing has moved from last night. There is a desolation of bottles and glasses, the remains of the spaghetti, the abandoned tray of cutlery on the floor and the schoolbooks still scattered over the carpet. The room looks wrecked. Already there is a loud banging, knocking and ringing at the downstairs door. After a moment or two, Kyra comes flying through from the bedroom, pulling on her clothes as she comes. She has managed to get her jeans on, and is now just piling on sweaters and shirts. She has plainly been woken up by the racket as she comes through at amazing speed.
Kyra All right, for Christ’s sake, what is it? I’m coming. What the hell’s going on?
She goes out of the room. We can hear her going downstairs and opening the door.
(Off.) Oh, I don’t believe it.
Edward (off) Surprise!
Kyra (off) What are you doing here? What have you got there? Come on, don’t stand out there freezing.
The sound of the door being closed and them scrambling together, laughing, excited up the stairs. Their cheerful early morning vitality contrasts with the sombre mood of the previous scene.
Edward (off) It’s kind of a joke. I just hope I can get it upstairs.
Kyra (off) Well, I must say!
There is a moment, and then the two of them appear. Edward, wrapped in scarves, is carrying an enormous styrofoam box which he has trouble getting in through the door. It is a couple of feet wide and a foot high, and appears to be heavy. Edward is talking as he comes in. Kyra follows.
Edward I don’t know, at the time it seemed funny …
Kyra Just put it down over here.
She is laughing as she closes the door and clears the central table for him to put the box down.
Jesus, what time is it?
Edward I was frightened I’d miss you. I was frightened you’d already be gone.
Kyra Christ Almighty, I’ve overslept.
She has found a little clock in the middle of the night’s debris.
It’s almost seven o’clock …
Edward I don’t know. Perhaps this is a crazy idea.
He has put the box down in the middle of the table. Rather sheepishly he mimes a fanfare with a little tooting noise.
Kyra I don’t know what it is.
Edward I’ve brought you breakfast. You said you missed breakfast more than anything else.
Kyra Oh, Edward, I don’t believe it.
Edward So here it is!
He opens his arms like Dandini, a young man half full of pride, half embarrassment.
You make a wish and it’s here.
Kyra stands watching as at once he moves towards the box to take its lid off. Inside the large box there are various smaller ones, either for refrigeration or to keep things hot. But first, Edward takes out a linen tablecloth which he spreads over her table. There is a lighthearted gaiety in his manner, which seems to have changed from the previous night.
I went to the Ritz. I’ve a friend. He’s my best friend actually. He was at school with me. He works in the kitchen.
Kyra Is he in his gap year?
Edward He is.
They smile at last night’s joke. Edward is now getting out a load of Ritz silver – knives and forks, pudding spoons, salt and pepper pots, and an ornate butter dish.
And he smuggled me this stuff. All this silver. Apparently they lose thirty ashtrays a week. People put them in their pockets. Still, that’s how the rich stay rich, I suppose. Look – a real butter dish with proper ice cubes.
Kyra Unbelievable.
Edward I’m afraid the toast’s a bit hard.
Edward has got out a silver toast rack with the toast already ranged on it. He is working at great speed and with considerable accomplishment. Kyra is so taken aback that she does not move, just watches delighted as he works like a professional waiter, laying the china now.
Charentais melon. The orange has been freshly squeezed. Marmalade. And there are croissants. At least I know the coffee is hot.
This, because it is in a silver thermos, which Edward now opens. Then he takes another silver dish from the hot box and opens it.
The eggs are scrambled.
Kyra Fantastic.
Edward Well, they looked pretty nice when they left.
Kyra It doesn’t matter. We’ll eat them. Oh this is wonderful!
Edward Bacon. I thought you’d be pleased.
Kyra I didn’t eat last night.
But Edward doesn’t hear this because he has taken out the last pieces of linen and is moving towards her with them in his hand.
Edward And look, the pièce de résistance. Just smell the napkins.
Kyra Yes, they’re incredible.
Kyra is suddenly overwhelmed and throws her arms round Edward, holding him close, the tears pouring down her cheeks.
Oh, Edward, thank you. Thank you so much.
She holds on to him, not wanting to let him go. After a few moments, he quietly detaches himself, and she wipes her cheeks.
Edward Hey, look, I mean, it’s just breakfast. I’ve just brought you breakfast.
Kyra I know.
Now he puts a small vase with a rose in it between them as the last touch. The table looks perfect. It all seems to have happened in no time at all.
Edward Are we going to eat it?
She smiles. The light is growing all the time at the window. As Edward moves to the table, Kyra sets about getting ready for work, gathering her things together, her mood transformed into a purposeful high humour.
Kyra I have to eat quickly. There’s a boy I’m late for. I’m teaching him off my own bat. Extra lessons. Early, so early! I sometimes think I must be going insane.
She laughs. She has thrown her things down on the chair and moved across to brush her hair in the little mirror in the kitchen area. She talks happily meanwhile as she does.
I wake at five-fifteen, five-thirty. The alarm clock goes off. I think, what am I doing? What is this all about? But then I think, no, this boy has the spark.
She throws him a nervous smile.
It’s when you see that spark in someone … This boy is fourteen, fifteen. His parents are split. He lives in this place I cannot describe to you. It’s so appalling he has to go to the bloody common to work.
The light is still growing at the window as she shakes her hair, and then starts putting things in her bag for the day’s work. Edward watches, diffident, standing by the table, slightly awed at her energy and sudden access of cheerfulness.
I mean, to be a teacher, the only thing you really have going for you … there’s only one thing that makes the whole thing make sense, and that is finding one really good pupil.
She has moved into the room, and seeing the abandoned schoolbooks on the floor, starts to pick them up and arrange them in a pile.
You set yourself some personal target, a private target, only you know it – no one else – that’s where you find satisfaction. And you hope to move on from there.
She gathers the last books together on the floor. Then for no apparent reason she repeats what she just said.
And that is it, that’s being a teacher. One private target, and that is enough.
She is kneeling on the floor, suspended for a moment, completely still, completely isolated in her own thoughts, as if there were no one else in the room, no one else in her life at all. After a moment, Edward goes to behind one of the chairs he has set out at the table. Hearing him move, she quickly gets up.
Edward Your chair.
Kyra puts the books down on a side-table and goes and stands where he wants her to sit in a little parody of waiters’ manners.
Kyra Are you ready?
Edward Yes. Yes, I’m ready.
Kyra Then sit.
Edward goes round to his side of the table, Kyra standing behind her chair waiting until he is ready as well, observing the formality.
This looks terrific. Come on, Edward, let’s eat.
They sit down opposite one another. He pours coffee. She reaches for some scrambled eggs and toast. They smile at each other occasionally, at ease, but saying nothing. Together, they start eating happily. The table looks incongruously perfect in its strange setting. As they eat contentedly, the light from the window fades to dark.
AMY’S VIEW
For Nicole
pour toujours
Amy’s View was first performed in the Lyttelton auditorium of the the National Theatre, London, on 13 June 1997, and transferred to the Aldwych Theatre on 14 January 1998. The cast was as follows:
Dominic Tyghe Eoin McCarthy
Amy Thomas Samantha Bond
Evelyn Thomas Joyce Redman
Esme Allen Judi Dench
Frank Oddie Ronald Pickup
Toby Cole Christopher Staines
Director Richard Eyre
Designer Bob Crowley
Lighting Mark Henderson
Music Richard Hartley
This production transferred to the Ethel Barrymore Theatre, New York, on 3 April 1999, with Anne Pitoniak taking over the role of Evelyn Thomas, Tate Donovan that of Dominic Tyghe and Maduka Steady that of Toby Cole. Sound Design was by Scott Myers.
The play was revived in a new production by the Theatre Royal, Bath, where it opened on 3 October 2006, and toured to Brighton, Richmond-upon-Thames and Malvern before opening at the Garrick Theatre, London, on 20 November 2006. The cast was as follows:
Dominic Tyghe Ryan Kiggell
Amy Thomas Jenna Russell
Evelyn Thomas Antonia Pemberton
Esme Allen Felicity Kendal
Frank Oddie Gawn Grainger
Toby Cole Geoff Breton
Director Peter Hall
Designer Simon Higlett
Lighting Peter Mumford
Sound Gregory Clarke
Characters
Dominic Tyghe
Amy Thomas
Evelyn Thomas
Esme Allen
Frank Oddie
Toby Cole
Place
Near Pangbourne and in London
Time
Between 1979 and 1995
> When shall we live, if not now?
Seneca
Act One
The living room of a house in rural Berkshire, not far from Pangbourne. The year is 1979. To one side there is a large summerhouse-cum-veranda, full of plants; at the back, a door leading to a hall and staircase. The room has an air of exceptional taste, marked by the modern arts movement of the 1920s and 30s. It is comfortable, with sofas and chairs decked in attractively faded French fabrics. Nothing new has been bought for years. By the biggest chair, discarded embroidery. This was once the home of an artist, Bernard Thomas, and all round the room is evidence of his work, which is rather Cézanne-like and domestic in scale. There are small sculptures dotted around. On one wall are some plates he designed. On another, a box of objets trouvés. Yet the art is discreet, part of the general surroundings, and plainly has been there long enough to go unremarked.
It is past midnight, it is mid-summer, and it is pitch dark outside. There are some warm orange standard lamps on around the room, and a lamp at a big table at the back. In the centre of the room a striking-looking young man, Dominic Tyghe, has turned a very old bicycle upside down on some newspapers, and is trying to mend its front tyre. He has a big kitchen bowl of water to one side. He is tall and thin, just twenty-two, with long black hair, carelessly dressed like a student. Some way apart, Amy Thomas, one year older, is sitting at the big table. In front of her is a big pile of manuscripts which she is assiduously working her way through, making tiny notations. Dark-haired, in jeans and a T-shirt, she is thin also, with an unmistakable air of quiet resolution.
They are already talking as the play starts, caught in the middle of a chain of action.
Dominic I think it’s this next.
Amy Do you want me to help you?
Dominic I think it’s under control.
Amy What do you do with the water?
Dominic You watch for the bubble. Once you see the bubble, then you’re on to the leak.
