BEN. How do you know those sheets weren’t clean?
GUS. What do you mean?
BEN. How do you know they weren’t clean? You’ve spent the whole day in them, haven’t you?
GUS. What, you mean it might be my pong? (He sniffs sheets.) Yes. (He sits slowly on bed.) It could be my pong, I suppose. It’s difficult to tell. I don’t really know what I pong like, that’s the trouble.
BEN (referring to the paper). Kaw!
GUS. Eh, Ben.
BEN. Kaw!
GUS. Ben.
BEN. What?
GUS. What town are we in? I’ve forgotten.
BEN. I’ve told you. Birmingham.
GUS. Go on!
He looks with interest about the room.
That’s in the Midlands. The second biggest city in Great Britain. I’d never have guessed.
He snaps his fingers.
Eh, it’s Friday today, isn’t it? It’ll be Saturday tomorrow.
BEN. What about it?
GUS (excited). We could go and watch the Villa.
BEN. They’re playing away.
GUS. No, are they? Caarr! What a pity.
BEN. Anyway, there’s no time. We’ve got to get straight back.
GUS. Well, we have done in the past, haven’t we? Stayed over and watched a game, haven’t we? For a bit of relaxation.
BEN. Things have tightened up, mate. They’ve tightened up.
GUS chuckles to himself.
GUS. I saw the Villa get beat in a cup-tie once. Who was it against now? White shirts. It was one-all at half-time. I’ll never forget it. Their opponents won by a penalty. Talk about drama. Yes, it was a disputed penalty. Disputed. They got beat two-one, anyway, because of it. You were there yourself.
BEN. Not me.
GUS. Yes, you were there. Don’t you remember that disputed penalty?
BEN. No.
GUS. He went down just inside the area. Then they said he was just acting. I didn’t think the other bloke touched him myself. But the referee had the ball on the spot.
BEN. Didn’t touch him! What are you talking about? He laid him out flat!
GUS. Not the Villa. The Villa don’t play that sort of game.
BEN. Get out of it.
Pause.
GUS. Eh, that must have been here, in Birmingham.
BEN. What must?
GUS. The Villa. That must have been here.
BEN. They were playing away.
GUS. Because you know who the other team was? It was the Spurs. It was Tottenham Hotspur.
BEN. Well, what about it?
GUS. We’ve never done a job in Tottenham.
BEN. How do you know?
GUS. I’d remember Tottenham.
BEN turns on his bed to look at him.
BEN. Don’t make me laugh, will you?
BEN turns back and reads. GUS yawns and speaks through his yawn.
GUS. When’s he going to get in touch?
Pause.
Yes, I’d like to see another football match. I’ve always been an ardent football fan. Here, what about coming to see the Spurs tomorrow?
BEN (tonelessly). They’re playing away.
GUS. Who are?
BEN. The Spurs.
GUS. Then they might be playing here.
BEN. Don’t be silly.
GUS. If they’re playing away they might be playing here. They might be playing the Villa.
BEN (tonelessly). But the Villa are playing away.
Pause. An envelope slides under the door, right. GUS sees it. He stands, looking at it.
GUS. Ben.
BEN. Away. They’re all playing away.
GUS. Ben, look here.
BEN. What?
GUS. Look.
BEN turns his head and sees the envelope. He stands.
BEN. What’s that?
GUS. I don’t know.
BEN. Where did it come from?
GUS. Under the door.
BEN. Well, what is it?
GUS. I don’t know.
They stare at it.
BEN. Pick it up.
GUS. What do you mean?
BEN. Pick it up!
GUS slowly moves towards it, bends and picks it up.
What is it?
GUS. An envelope.
BEN. Is there anything on it?
GUS. No.
BEN. Is it sealed?
GUS. Yes.
BEN. Open it.
GUS. What?
BEN. Open it!
GUS opens it and looks inside.
What’s in it?
GUS empties twelve matches into his hand.
GUS. Matches.
BEN. Matches?
GUS. Yes.
BEN. Show it to me.
GUS passes the envelope. BEN examines it.
Nothing on it. Not a word.
GUS. That’s funny, isn’t it?
BEN. It came under the door?
GUS. Must have done.
BEN. Well, go on.
GUS. Go on where?
BEN. Open the door and see if you can catch anyone outside.
GUS. Who, me?
BEN. Go on!
GUS stares at him, puts the matches in his pocket, goes to his bed and brings a revolver from under the pillow. He goes to the door, opens it, looks out and shuts it.
GUS. No one.
He replaces the revolver.
BEN. What did you see?
GUS. Nothing.
BEN. They must have been pretty quick.
GUS takes the matches from his pocket and looks at them.
GUS. Well, they’ll come in handy.
BEN. Yes.
GUS. Won’t they?
BEN. Yes, you’re always running out, aren’t you?
GUS. All the time.
BEN. Well, they’ll come in handy then.
GUS. Yes.
BEN. Won’t they?
GUS. Yes, I could do with them. I could do with them too.
BEN. You could, eh?
GUS. Yes.
BEN. Why?
GUS. We haven’t got any.
BEN. Well, you’ve got some now, haven’t you?
GUS. I can light the kettle now.
BEN. Yes, you’re always cadging matches. How many have you got there?
GUS. About a dozen.
BEN. Well, don’t lose them. Red too. You don’t even need a box.
GUS probes his ear with a match.
(Slapping his hand). Don’t waste them! Go on, go and light it.
GUS. Eh?
BEN. Go and light it.
GUS. Light what?
BEN. The kettle.
GUS. You mean the gas.
BEN. Who does?
GUS. You do.
BEN (his eyes narrowing). What do you mean, I mean the gas?
GUS. Well, that’s what you mean, don’t you? The gas.
BEN (powerfully). If I say go and light the kettle I mean go and light the kettle.
GUS. How can you light a kettle?
BEN. It’s a figure of speech! Light the kettle. It’s a figure of speech!
GUS. I’ve never heard it.
BEN. Light the kettle! It’s common usage!
GUS. I think you’ve got it wrong.
BEN (menacing). What do you mean?
GUS. They say put on the kettle.
BEN (taut). Who says?
They stare at each other, breathing hard.
(Deliberately.) I have never in all my life heard anyone say put on the kettle.
GUS. I bet my mother used to say it.
BEN. Your mother? When did you last see your mother?
GUS. I don’t know, about –
BEN. Well, what are you talking about your mother for?
They stare.
Gus, I’m not trying to be unreasonable. I’m just trying to point out something to you.
GUS. Yes, but –
BEN. Who’s the senior partner here, me or you?
GUS. You.
BEN
. I’m only looking after your interests, Gus. You’ve got to learn, mate.
GUS. Yes, but I’ve never heard –
BEN (vehemently). Nobody says light the gas! What does the gas light?
GUS. What does the gas –?
BEN (grabbing him with two hands by the throat, at arm’s length). THE KETTLE, YOU FOOL!
GUS takes the hands from his throat.
GUS. All right, all right.
Pause.
BEN. Well, what are you waiting for?
GUS. I want to see if they light.
BEN. What?
GUS. The matches.
He takes out the flattened box and tries to strike.
No.
He throws the box under the bed.
BEN stares at him.
GUS raises his foot.
Shall I try it on here?
BEN stares. GUS strikes a match on his shoe. It lights.
Here we are.
BEN (wearily). Put on the bloody kettle, for Christ’s sake.
BEN goes to his bed, but, realising what he has said, stops and half turns. They look at each other. GUS slowly exits, left. BEN slams his paper down on the bed and sits on it, head in hands.
GUS (entering). It’s going.
BEN. What?
GUS. The stove.
GUS goes to his bed and sits.
I wonder who it’ll be tonight.
Silence.
Eh, I’ve been wanting to ask you something.
BEN (putting his legs on the bed). Oh, for Christ’s sake.
GUS. No. I was going to ask you something.
He rises and sits on BEN’S bed.
BEN. What are you sitting on my bed for?
GUS sits.
What’s the matter with you? You’re always asking me questions. What’s the matter with you?
GUS. Nothing.
BEN. You never used to ask me so many damn questions. What’s come over you?
GUS. No, I was just wondering.
BEN. Stop wondering. You’ve got a job to do . Why don’t you just do it and shut up?
GUS. That’s what I was wondering about.
BEN. What?
GUS. The job.
BEN. What job?
GUS (tentatively). I thought perhaps you might know something.
BEN looks at him.
I thought perhaps you – I mean – have you got any idea – who it’s going to be tonight?
BEN. Who what’s going to be?
They look at each other.
GUS (at length). Who it’s going to be.
Silence.
BEN. Are you feeling all right?
GUS. Sure.
BEN. Go and make the tea.
GUS. Yes, sure.
GUS exits, left, BEN looks after him. He then takes his revolver from under the pillow and checks it for ammunition. GUS re-enters.
The gas has gone out.
BEN. Well, what about it?
GUS. There’s a meter.
BEN. I haven’t got any money.
GUS. Nor have I.
BEN. You’ll have to wait.
GUS. What for?
BEN. For Wilson.
GUS. He might not come. He might just send a message. He doesn’t always come.
BEN. Well, you’ll have to do without it, won’t you?
GUS. Blimey.
BEN. You’ll have a cup of tea afterwards. What’s the matter with you?
GUS. I like to have one before.
BEN holds the revolver up to the light and polishes it.
BEN. You’d better get ready anyway.
GUS. Well, I don’t know, that’s a bit much, you know, for my money.
He picks up a packet of tea from the bed and throws it into the bag.
I hope he’s got a shilling, anyway, if he comes. He’s entitled to have. After all, it’s his place, he could have seen there was enough gas for a cup of tea.
BEN. What do you mean, it’s his place?
GUS. Well, isn’t it?
BEN. He’s probably only rented it. It doesn’t have to be his place.
GUS. I know it’s his place. I bet the whole house is. He’s not even laying on any gas now either.
GUS sits on his bed.
It’s his place all right. Look at all the other places. You go to this address, there’s a key there, there’s a teapot, there’s never a soul in sight – (He pauses.) Eh, nobody ever hears a thing, have you ever thought of that? We never get any complaints, do we, too much noise or anything like that? You never see a soul, do you? – except the bloke who comes. You ever noticed that? I wonder if the walls are sound-proof. (He touches the wall above his bed.) Can’t tell. All you do is wait, eh? Half the time he doesn’t even bother to put in an appearance, Wilson.
BEN. Why should he? He’s a busy man.
GUS (thoughtfully). I find him hard to talk to, Wilson. Do you know that, Ben?
BEN. Scrub round it, will you?
Pause.
GUS. There are a number of things I want to ask him. But I can never get round to it, when I see him.
Pause.
I’ve been thinking about the last one.
BEN. What last one?
GUS. That girl.
BEN grabs the paper, which he reads.
(Rising, looking down at BEN). How many times have you read that paper?
BEN slams the paper down and rises.
BEN (angrily). What do you mean?
GUS. I was just wondering how many times you’d –
BEN. What are you doing, criticizing me?
GUS. No, I was just –
BEN. You’ll get a swipe round your earhole if you don’t watch your step.
GUS. Now look here, Ben –
BEN. I’m not looking anywhere! (He addresses the room.) How many times have I – ǃ A bloody liberty!
GUS. I didn’t mean that.
BEN. You just get on with it, mate. Get on with it, that’s all.
BEN gets back on the bed.
GUS. I was just thinking about that girl, that’s all.
GUS sits on his bed.
She wasn’t much to look at, I know, but still. It was a mess though, wasn’t it? What a mess. Honest, I can’t remember a mess like that one. They don’t seem to hold together like men, women. A looser texture, like. Didn’t she spread, eh? She didn’t half spread. Kaw! But I’ve been meaning to ask you.
BEN sits up and clenches his eyes.
Who clears up after we’ve gone? I’m curious about that. Who does the clearing up? Maybe they don’t clear up. Maybe they just leave them there, eh? What do you think? How many jobs have we done? Blimey, I can’t count them. What if they never clear anything up after we’ve gone.
BEN (pityingly). You mutt. Do you think we’re the only branch of this organization? Have a bit of common. They got departments for everything.
GUS. What cleaners and all?
BEN. You birk!
GUS. No, it was that girl made me start to think –
There is a loud clatter and racket in the bulge of wall between the beds, of something descending. They grab their revolvers, jump up and face the wall. The noise comes to a stop. Silence. They look at each other. BEN gestures sharply towards the wall. GUS approaches the wall slowly. He bangs it with his revolver. It is hollow. BEN moves to the head of his bed, his revolver cocked. GUS puts his revolver on his bed and pats along the bottom of the centre panel. He finds a rim. He lifts the panel. Disclosed is a serving-hatch, a ‘dumb waiter’. A wide box is held by pulleys. GUS peers into the box. He brings out a piece of paper.
BEN. What is it?
GUS. You have a look at it.
BEN. Read it.
GUS (reading). Two braised steak and chips. Two sago puddings. Two teas without sugar.
BEN. Let me see that. (He takes the paper.)
GUS (to himself). Two teas without sugar.
BEN. Mmnn.
GUS. What do you think of that?
BEN. Well –
&nb
sp; The box goes up. BEN levels his revolver.
GUS. Give us a chance! They’re in a hurry, aren’t they?
BEN re-reads the note. GUS looks over his shoulder.
That’s a bit – that’s a bit funny, isn’t it?
BEN (quickly). No. It’s not funny. It probably used to be a café here, that’s all. Upstairs. These places change hands very quickly.
GUS. A café?
BEN. Yes.
GUS. What, you mean this was the kitchen, down here?
BEN. Yes, they change hands overnight, these places. Go into liquidation. The people who run it, you know, they don’t find it a going concern, they move out.
GUS. You mean the people who ran this place didn’t find it a going concern and moved out?
BEN. Sure.
GUS. WELL, WHO’S GOT IT NOW?
Silence.
BEN. What do you mean, who’s got it now?
GUS. Who’s got it now? If they moved out, who moved in?
BEN. Well, that all depends –
The box descends with a clatter and bang. BEN levels his revolver. GUS goes to the box and brings out a piece of paper.
GUS (reading). Soup of the day. Liver and onions. Jam tart.
A pause. GUS looks at BEN. BEN takes the note and reads it. He walks slowly to the hatch. gus follows. BEN looks into the hatch but not up it. GUS puts his hand on BEN’S shoulder. BEN throws it off. GUS puts his finger to his mouth. He leans on the hatch and swiftly looks up it. BEN flings him away in alarm. BEN looks at the note. He throws his revolver on the bed and speaks with decision.
BEN. We’d better send something up.
GUS. Eh?
BEN. We’d better send something up.
GUS. Oh! Yes. Yes. Maybe you’re right.
They are both relieved at the decision.
BEN (purposefully). Quick! What have you got in that bag?
GUS. Not much.
GUS goes to the hatch and shouts up it.
Wait a minute!
BEN. Don’t do that!
GUS examines the contents of the bag and brings them out, one by one.
GUS. Biscuits. A bar of chocolate. Half a pint of milk.
BEN. That all?
GUS. Packet of tea.
BEN. Good.
GUS. We can’t send the tea. That’s all the tea we’ve got.
BEN. Well, there’s no gas. You can’t do anything with it, can you?
GUS. Maybe they can send us down a bob.
BEN. What else is there?
GUS (reaching into bag). One Eccles cake.
BEN. One Eccles cake?
GUS. Yes.
BEN. You never told me you had an Eccles cake.
GUS. Didn’t I?
BEN. Why only one? Didn’t you bring one for me?
GUS. I didn’t think you’d be keen.
BEN. Well, you can’t send up one Eccles cake, anyway.
Harold Pinter Plays 1 Page 11
