Harold Pinter Plays 1

by Harold Pinter

  BEN. Yes.

  To ear. He listens. To mouth.

  Straight away. Right.

  To ear. He listens. To mouth.

  Sure we’re ready.

  To ear. He listens. To mouth.

  Understood. Repeat. He has arrived and will be coming in straight away. The normal method to be employed. Understood.

  To ear. He listens. To mouth.

  Sure we’re ready.

  To ear. He listens. To mouth.

  Right.

  He hangs the tube up.

  Gus!

  He takes out a comb and combs his hair, adjusts his jacket to diminish the bulge of the revolver. The lavatory flushes off left. BEN goes quickly to the door, left.

  Gus!

  The door right opens sharply. BEN turns, his revolver levelled at the door.

  GUS stumbles in.

  He is stripped of his jacket, waistcoat, tie, holster and revolver.

  He stops, body stooping, his arms at his sides.

  He raises his head and looks at BEN.

  A long silence.

  They stare at each other.

  Curtain

  A SLIGHT ACHE

  A Slight Ache was first preformed on the BBC Third Programme on 9th July 1959, with the following cast:

  EDWARD Maurice Denham

  FLORA Vivien Merchant

  Directed by Donald McWhinnie

  It was presented by Michael Codron at the Arts Theatre, London, on 18th January 1961, and subsequently at the Criterion Theatre, with the following cast:

  EDWARD Emlyn Williams

  FLORA Alison Leggat

  MATCHSELLER Richard Briers

  Directed by Donald McWhinnie

  It was produced at the Young Vic in June 1987 with the following cast:

  EDWARD Barry Foster

  FLORA Jill Johnson

  MATCHSELLER Malcolm Ward

  Directed by Kevin Billington

  A SLIGHT ACHE

  A country house, with two chairs and a table laid for breakfast at the centre of the stage. These will later be removed and the action will be focused on the scullery on the right and the study on the left, both indicated with a minimum of scenery and props. A large well kept garden is suggested at the back of the stage with flower beds, trimmed hedges, etc. The garden gate, which cannot be seen by the audience, is off right.

  FLORA and EDWARD are discovered sitting at the breakfast table. EDWARD is reading the paper.

  FLORA: Have you noticed the honeysuckle this morning?

  EDWARD: The what?

  FLORA: The honeysuckle.

  EDWARD: Honeysuckle? Where?

  FLORA: By the back gate, Edward.

  EDWARD: Is that honeysuckle? I thought it was … convolvulus, or something.

  FLORA: But you know it’s honeysuckle.

  EDWARD: I tell you I thought it was convolvulus.

  [Pause.]

  FLORA: It’s in wonderful flower.

  EDWARD: I must look.

  FLORA: The whole garden’s in flower this morning. The clematis. The convolvulus. Everything. I was out at seven. I stood by the pool.

  EDWARD: Did you say—that the convolvulus was in flower?

  FLORA: Yes.

  EDWARD: But good God, you just denied there was any.

  FLORA: I was talking about the honeysuckle.

  EDWARD: About the what?

  FLORA [calmly]: Edward—you know that shrub outside the toolshed …

  EDWARD: Yes, yes.

  FLORA: That’s convolvulus.

  EDWARD: That?

  FLORA: Yes.

  EDWARD: Oh.

  [Pause.]

  I thought it was japonica.

  FLORA: Oh, good Lord no.

  EDWARD: Pass the teapot, please.

  Pause. She pours tea for him.

  I don’t see why I should be expected to distinguish between these plants. It’s not my job.

  FLORA: You know perfectly well what grows in your garden.

  EDWARD: Quite the contrary. It is clear that I don’t.

  [Pause.]

  FLORA [rising]: I was up at seven. I stood by the pool. The peace. And everything in flower. The sun was up. You should work in the garden this morning. We could put up the canopy.

  EDWARD: The canopy? What for?

  FLORA: To shade you from the sun.

  EDWARD: Is there a breeze?

  FLORA: A light one.

  EDWARD: It’s very treacherous weather, you know.

  [Pause.]

  FLORA: Do you know what today is?

  EDWARD: Saturday.

  FLORA: It’s the longest day of the year.

  EDWARD: Really?

  FLORA: It’s the height of summer today.

  EDWARD: Cover the marmalade.

  FLORA: What?

  EDWARD: Cover the pot. There’s a wasp. [He puts the paper down on the table.] Don’t move. Keep still. What are you doing?

  FLORA: Covering the pot.

  EDWARD: Don’t move. Leave it. Keep still.

  [Pause.]

  Give me the ‘Telegraph’.

  FLORA: Don’t hit it. It’ll bite.

  EDWARD: Bite? What do you mean, bite? Keep still.

  [Pause.]

  It’s landing.

  FLORA: It’s going in the pot.

  EDWARD: Give me the lid.

  FLORA: It’s in.

  EDWARD: Give me the lid.

  FLORA: I’ll do it.

  EDWARD: Give it to me! Now … Slowly …

  FLORA: What are you doing?

  EDWARD: Be quiet. Slowly … carefully … on … the … pot! Ha-ha-ha. Very good.

  He sits on a chair to the right of the table.

  FLORA: Now he’s in the marmalade.

  EDWARD: Precisely.

  Pause. She sits on a chair to the left of the table and reads the ‘Telegraph’.

  FLORA: Can you hear him?

  EDWARD: Hear him?

  FLORA: Buzzing.

  EDWARD: Nonsense. How can you hear him? It’s an earthenware lid.

  FLORA: He’s becoming frantic.

  EDWARD: Rubbish. Take it away from the table.

  FLORA: What shall I do with it?

  EDWARD: Put it in the sink and drown it.

  FLORA: It’ll fly out and bite me.

  EDWARD: It will not bite you! Wasps don’t bite. Anyway, it won’t fly out. It’s stuck. It’ll drown where it is, in the marmalade.

  FLORA: What a horrible death.

  EDWARD: On the contrary.

  [Pause.]

  FLORA: Have you got something in your eyes?

  EDWARD: No. Why do you ask?

  FLORA: You keep clenching them, blinking them.

  EDWARD: I have a slight ache in them.

  FLORA: Oh, dear.

  EDWARD: Yes, a slight ache. As if I hadn’t slept.

  FLORA: Did you sleep, Edward?

  EDWARD: Of course I slept. Uninterrupted. As always.

  FLORA: And yet you feel tired.

  EDWARD: I didn’t say I felt tired. I merely said I had a slight ache in my eyes.

  FLORA: Why is that, then?

  EDWARD: I really don’t know.

  [Pause.]

  FLORA: Oh goodness!

  EDWARD: What is it?

  FLORA: I can see it. It’s trying to come out.

  EDWARD: How can it?

  FLORA: Through the hole. It’s trying to crawl out, through the spoon-hole.

  EDWARD: Mmmnn, yes. Can’t do it, of course. [Silent pause.] Well, let’s kill it, for goodness’ sake.

  FLORA: Yes, let’s. But how?

  EDWARD: Bring it out on the spoon and squash it on a plate.

  FLORA: It’ll fly away. It’ll bite.

  EDWARD: If you don’t stop saying that word I shall leave this table.

  FLORA: But wasps do bite.

  EDWARD: They don’t bite. They sting. It’s snakes … that bite.

  FLORA: What about horseflies?

  [Pause.]

&
nbsp; EDWARD [to himself]: Horseflies suck.

  [Pause.]

  FLORA [tentatively]: If we … if we wait long enough, I suppose it’ll choke to death. It’ll suffocate in the marmalade.

  EDWARD [briskly]: You do know I’ve got work to do this morning, don’t you? I can’t spend the whole day worrying about a wasp.

  FLORA: Well, kill it.

  EDWARD: You want to kill it?

  FLORA: Yes.

  EDWARD: Very well. Pass me the hot water jug.

  FLORA: What are you going to do?

  EDWARD: Scald it. Give it to me.

  She hands him the jug. Pause.

  Now …

  FLORA [whispering]: Do you want me to lift the lid?

  EDWARD: No, no, no. I’ll pour down the spoon hole. Right … down the spoon-hole.

  FLORA: Listen!

  EDWARD: What?

  FLORA: It’s buzzing.

  EDWARD: Vicious creatures.

  [Pause.]

  Curious, but I don’t remember seeing any wasps at all, all summer, until now. I’m sure I don’t know why. I mean, there must have been wasps.

  FLORA: Please.

  EDWARD: This couldn’t be the first wasp, could it?

  FLORA: Please.

  EDWARD: The first wasp of summer? No. It’s not possible.

  FLORA: Edward.

  EDWARD: Mmmmnnn?

  FLORA: Kill it.

  EDWARD: Ah, yes. Tilt the pot. Tilt. Aah … down here … right down … blinding him … that’s … it.

  FLORA: Is it?

  EDWARD: Lift the lid. All right, I will. There he is! Dead. What a monster. [He squashes it on a plate.]

  FLORA: What an awful experience.

  EDWARD: What a beautiful day it is. Beautiful. I think I shall work in the garden this morning. Where’s that canopy?

  FLORA: It’s in the shed.

  EDWARD: Yes, we must get it out. My goodness, just look at that sky. Not a cloud. Did you say it was the longest day of the year today?

  FLORA: Yes.

  EDWARD: Ah, it’s a good day. I feel it in my bones. In my muscles. I think I’ll stretch my legs in a minute. Down to the pool. My God, look at that flowering shrub over there. Clematis. What a wonderful … [He stops suddenly.]

  FLORA: What?

  [Pause.]

  Edward, what is it?

  [Pause.]

  Edward …

  EDWARD [thickly]: He’s there.

  FLORA: Who?

  EDWARD [low, murmuring]: Blast and damn it, he’s there, he’s there at the back gate.

  FLORA: Let me see.

  She moves over to him to look. Pause.

  [Lightly.] Oh, it’s the matchseller.

  EDWARD: He’s back again.

  FLORA: But he’s always there.

  EDWARD: Why? What is he doing there?

  FLORA: But he’s never disturbed you, has he? The man’s been standing there for weeks. You’ve never mentioned it.

  EDWARD: What is he doing there?

  FLORA: He’s selling matches, of course.

  EDWARD: It’s ridiculous. What’s the time?

  FLORA: Half past nine.

  EDWARD: What in God’s name is he doing with a tray full of matches at half past nine in the morning?

  FLORA: He arrives at seven o’clock.

  EDWARD: Seven o’clock?

  FLORA: He’s always there at seven.

  EDWARD: Yes, but you’ve never … actually seen him arrive?

  FLORA: No, I …

  EDWARD: Well, how do you know he’s … not been standing there all night?

  [Pause.]

  FLORA: Do you find him interesting, Edward?

  EDWARD [casually]: Interesting? No. No, I … don’t find him interesting.

  FLORA: He’s a very nice old man, really.

  EDWARD: You’ve spoken to him?

  FLORA: No. No, I haven’t spoken to him. I’ve nodded.

  EDWARD [pacing up and down]: For two months he’s been standing on that spot, do you realize that? Two months. I haven’t been able to step outside the back gate.

  FLORA: Why on earth not?

  EDWARD [to himself]: It used to give me great pleasure, such pleasure, to stroll along through the long grass, out through the back gate, pass into the lane. That pleasure is now denied me. It’s my own house, isn’t it? It’s my own gate.

  FLORA: I really can’t understand this, Edward.

  EDWARD: Damn. And do you know I’ve never seen him sell one box? Not a box. It’s hardly surprising. He’s on the wrong road. It’s not a road at all. What is it? It’s a lane, leading to the monastery. Off everybody’s route. Even the monks take a short cut to the village, when they want to go … to the village. No one goes up it. Why doesn’t he stand on the main road if he wants to sell matches, by the front gate? The whole thing’s preposterous.

  FLORA [going over to him]: I don’t know why you’re getting so excited about it. He’s a quiet, harmless old man, going about his business. He’s quite harmless.

  EDWARD: I didn’t say he wasn’t harmless. Of course he’s harmless. How could he be other than harmless?

  Fade out and silence.

  FLORA’S voice, far in the house, drawing nearer.

  FLORA [off]: Edward, where are you? Edward? Where are you, Edward?

  She appears.

  Edward?

  Edward, what are you doing in the scullery?

  EDWARD [looking through the scullery window]: Doing?

  FLORA: I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I put up the canopy ages ago. I came back and you were nowhere to be seen. Have you been out?

  EDWARD: No.

  FLORA: Where have you been?

  EDWARD: Here.

  FLORA: I looked in your study. I even went into the attic.

  EDWARD [tonelessly]: What would I be doing in the attic?

  FLORA: I couldn’t imagine what had happened to you. Do you know it’s twelve o’clock?

  EDWARD: Is it?

  FLORA: I even went to the bottom of the garden, to see if you were in the toolshed.

  EDWARD [tonelessly]: What would I be doing in the toolshed?

  FLORA: You must have seen me in the garden. You can see through this window.

  EDWARD: Only part of the garden.

  FLORA: Yes.

  EDWARD: Only a corner of the garden. A very small corner.

  FLORA: What are you doing in here?

  EDWARD: Nothing. I was digging out some notes, that’s all.

  FLORA: Notes?

  EDWARD: For my essay.

  FLORA: Which essay?

  EDWARD: My essay on space and time.

  FLORA: But … I’ve never … I don’t know that one.

  EDWARD: You don’t know it?

  FLORA: I thought you were writing one about the Belgian Congo.

  EDWARD: I’ve been engaged on the dimensionality and continuity of space … and time … for years.

  FLORA: And the Belgian Congo?

  EDWARD [shortly]: Never mind about the Belgian Congo.

  [Pause.]

  FLORA: But you don’t keep notes in the scullery.

  EDWARD: You’d be surprised. You’d be highly surprised.

  FLORA: Good Lord, what’s that? Is that a bullock let loose? No. It’s the matchseller! My goodness, you can see him … through the hedge. He looks bigger. Have you been watching him? He looks … like a bullock.

  [Pause.]

  Edward?

  [Pause.]

  [Moving over to him.] Are you coming outside? I’ve put up the canopy. You’ll miss the best of the day. You can have an hour before lunch.

  EDWARD: I’ve no work to do this morning.

  FLORA: What about your essay? You don’t intend to stay in the scullery all day, do you?

  EDWARD: Get out. Leave me alone.

  [A slight pause.]

  FLORA: Really Edward. You’ve never spoken to me like that in all your life.

  EDWARD: Yes, I have.

  FLORA: Oh, Wedd
ie. Beddie-Weddie …

  EDWARD: Do not call me that!

  FLORA: Your eyes are bloodshot.

  EDWARD: Damn it.

  FLORA: It’s too dark in here to peer …

  EDWARD: Damn.

  FLORA: It’s so bright outside.

  EDWARD: Damn.

  FLORA: And it’s dark in here.

  [Pause.]

  EDWARD: Christ blast it!

  FLORA: You’re frightened of him.

  EDWARD: I’m not.

  FLORA: You’re frightened of a poor old man. Why?

  EDWARD: I am not!

  FLORA: He’s a poor, harmless old man.

  EDWARD: Aaah my eyes.

  FLORA: Let me bathe them.

  EDWARD: Keep away.

  [Pause.]

  [Slowly.] I want to speak to that man. I want to have a word with him.

  [Pause.]

  It’s quite absurd, of course. I really can’t tolerate something so … absurd, right on my doorstep. I shall not tolerate it. He’s sold nothing all morning. No one passed. Yes. A monk passed. A non-smoker. In a loose garment. It’s quite obvious he was a non-smoker but still, the man made no effort. He made no effort to clinch a sale, to rid himself of one of his cursed boxes. His one chance, all morning, and he made no effort.

  [Pause.]

  I haven’t wasted my time. I’ve hit, in fact, upon the truth. He’s not a matchseller at all. The bastard isn’t a matchseller at all. Curious I never realized that before. He’s an impostor. I watched him very closely. He made no move towards the monk. As for the monk, the monk made no move towards him. The monk was moving along the lane. He didn’t pause, or halt, or in any way alter his step. As for the matchseller—how ridiculous to go on calling him by that title. What a farce. No, there is something very false about that man. I intend to get to the bottom of it. I’ll soon get rid of him He can go and ply his trade somewhere else. Instead of standing like a bullock … a bullock, outside my back gate.

  FLORA: But if he isn’t a matchseller, what is his trade?

  EDWARD: We’ll soon find out.

  FLORA: You’re going out to speak to him?

  EDWARD: Certainly not! Go out to him? Certainly … not. I’ll invite him in here. Into my study. Then we’ll … get to the bottom of it.

  FLORA: Why don’t you call the police and have him removed?

  He laughs. Pause.

  Why don’t you call the police, Edward? You could say he was a public nuisance. Although I … I can’t say I find him a nuisance.

  EDWARD: Call him in.

  FLORA: Me?