Martin Crimp, Plays 3

by Martin Crimp

  Hazel You used to be young and pretty.

  Mum Hazel.

  Hazel Well it’s true: people don’t change is rubbish.

  Granny And what did Santa bring you for Christmas, Debbie?

  Debbie Well I can’t honestly go asking for presents when I’ve already got the most marvellous gift of all.

  Hazel Lying cow – I saw the list!

  Debbie What list?

  Hazel She made this long long list of all the things she wanted – and because she’s pregnant she got them.

  Mum Please. Hazel.

  Hazel The hat – the radio – the car – the ‘nice little diamond earrings’.

  Debbie I need a car to get to the hospital for my scans – and anyway you got that dress.

  Hazel Why doesn’t she use the bus? Granny’s old and she uses the bus. So what if I got a dress – big deal – it wasn’t exactly expensive.

  Dad Mum? – on a bus? – you’re joking – when did you last get on a bus, Mum?

  Mum Leave your poor mother alone, Tommy.

  Granny No he’s right – because in fact, Hazel, your father is right, I don’t use the bus, I take taxis. I may be an ugly old granny – as you have so kindly pointed out – but I still like to sit in the back of a taxi and be driven through the streets – especially at dusk in summer with all the smells of plants and restaurants coming in through the window – and all the childless young people in light summer clothes swarming on the pavements outside the shops and bars. I like to watch the meter running. I like to think ah these two minutes in a taxi have already cost me what that man emptying the bins will take more than an hour of his life to earn – and oh the extra stink of a rubbish bin in summer! Yes on nights like that the taxi is glorious and the fact I’m paying for my happiness makes my happiness all the sweeter – and the fact that other people are having to suffer and work just to pay for such basic things as electricity makes it even sweeter still. And when I’m cruising the clogged streets watching all those people your age, Hazel, all those childless and carefree people swarming outside the bars like ants outside of an ant-hole, I sometimes wonder if we are not on the verge of some enormous and magnificent change – don’t you think? Yes I mean a change to our actual human material. Compared to which your sister’s pregnancy – unplanned and ill-conceived as it may well be, plus medicalised beyond all reason by those same profitable concerns who have so often flown me (oh I admit it) to conferences and booked me into comfy hotel rooms – compared to which reproduction of your sister’s kind – involving some kind of man, some kind of penetration, and even perhaps (I’m just guessing now, Debbie) some kind of wide-eyed love – might only be capable of churning out more of the same – more and more of exactly the same – and is that what we really want? Because what I’m imagining – Hazel – in that taxi of mine, is a new kind of magnificent human being who may not even be human at all.

  Hazel Well I still don’t see why she needs a car.

  Mum The thing is Hazel sweetheart is that’s not for you to decide. And just because Debbie puts something on her list it doesn’t mean she automatically gets it.

  Hazel She got the car.

  Mum She needs the car to go to the hospital.

  Hazel And I suppose she needs those earrings to go to the hospital too.

  Debbie storms out.

  Mum Please don’t leave the table – please – please don’t storm off like that – she doesn’t mean it.

  Hazel Well I’m sorry but I think the way you’re both spoiling her is horrible.

  Pause.

  Dad Very interesting, Mum – what you just said.

  Granny Oh I know you think I’m an idiot, Tom.

  Dad Not at all, not at all.

  Mum Look I know I’m just your mother, Hazel. And I know that means I’ll shop and cook and clean for you for ever and ever. You’ll come home from your second failed marriage just like I’m sure you’ll come home from your first just like you used to from school trips with a big bag full of dirty washing and expecting your dinner. And that’s fine. If you can’t make a marriage work, that won’t be your fault. I agree that men with their fat thighs and their legs apart on trains can be impossible and that unselfish and faithful men like Daddy, or like Grandad here, are the exception, not the rule. Yes, I’m just your mother, and as such I expect to be trodden on and trodden on – I expect to be worn away like a stone step – and I’m prepared – like the stone – to endure it. But that doesn’t mean I’ve no feelings, Hazel. My heart isn’t stone too.

  Hazel I’ll go and talk to her.

  Mum Thank you.

  Hazel goes.

  Are you alright there, Terry? Would you like some more meat?

  Grandad Because I am neither senile, I’ll have you know, nor impotent. – Just a little, please. – I won’t be put down and I won’t be put into a home. There are all kinds of erections – an erection doesn’t have to be rock hard – it can still be useful. I never locked him in a cellar. I never abused you, Thomas – and I never abused your mother – not even when it was the fashionable thing. I’ve spent my whole life swimming against the tide. Well of course I had a mortgage, but I paid it off – nor do the police frighten me: I don’t commit crimes – not serious ones – so don’t think you can make me believe I’m losing my memory then shut me away in a home. I’ve paid my way – there’s money in the bank and I’ll spend it however I like: I happen to enjoy ice creams and speedboat rides – that doesn’t mean I’m a child or can be treated like one. Remember you’re looking at a man who spent forty years in general practice and ten years before that in prison for a crime I never committed – so when men went into space, is it surprising I envied them their weightlessness? I wanted Tom to go into space – I’d hold him up when he was little and show him the moon – remember that, Tom? – remember those teddy-bear pyjamas? He could’ve walked on the moon – he needn’t have spent his whole life processing planning-applications – but he had no spark – the moon was too far – he couldn’t be bothered.

  Dad is looking at him.

  What?

  Dad You were never in prison, Dad. You were never a doctor.

  Grandad I never said I was, Tommy boy. I’m not stupid.

  Mum Let’s not start an argument.

  Dad Why not? He loves it.

  Mum was the doctor, Dad. Mum worked for forty years to support you. The reason you have money in the bank now for speedboat rides and pornographic downloads is that while you squandered, Mum constantly worked.

  Granny He helped me in the house, Tom.

  Dad Helped in the house? He can’t even load a washing machine.

  Granny You’ve no right / to insult him.

  Dad Whatever. He can’t hear me anyway.

  Grandad Of course I can hear you: you’re the one who’s deaf.

  Dad I may be going deaf – yes – but at least I have the intelligence to wear my hearing aid and actually switch it on.

  Mum You’re being cruel now.

  Dad Correct.

  Grandad What?

  Dad Oh for godsake …

  Grandad What did he say?

  Dad I said correct, Dad – I am deaf – correct – you’re right – you’re absolutely right – forgive me.

  Oh hello, what’s this?

  Debbie and Hazel have reappeared as perfect friends.

  Friends now, are we?

  Debbie Yes, Dad. Sorry.

  Hazel No: it was my fault. I’m really sorry, Mum. I’ve been a complete cunt.

  Mum Well as long as you’re friends now.

  Granny What’s going on, girls?

  Debbie We’re going to sing for you, Granny.

  Mum Sing?

  Hazel We want to sing for you all like we did when we were little.

  Mum Well that’s wonderful!

  Dad Is it something we know?

  Debbie It’s something we both made up.

  Debbie and Hazel sing.

  Debbie / Hazel

  We’re
going to marry a man

  (going to marry a man)

  The man will be rich

  The man will say bitch:

  I’ll make him pay for my meals

  I’ll strut and fuck him in heels –

  That’s our incredible plan

  Yes our incredible plan.

  We’re going to carry a gun

  (going to carry a gun)

  The gun will go bang

  and puncture the man:

  I’ll aim my gun at his head

  I’ll pump his balls up with lead –

  Oh what incredible fun

  Yes what incredible fun.

  We’re going to sharpen a knife

  (going to sharpen a knife)

  The knife will be real

  The blade will be steel:

  I’ll cut my name in his thighs –

  cut out his tongue if he lies –

  That’s how to be a good wife

  Yes how to be a good wife.

  We’ll send our man to the moon

  (send our man to the moon)

  The moonlight will shine

  on your man and mine –

  I’ll keep his rocket on track

  I’ll make him radio back:

  Oh darling marry me soon

  (yes darling – marry me –

  oh marry me soon)

  Enter from the background where he has silently appeared: Uncle Bob.

  Uncle Bob wears distinctive clothes, perhaps a well-pressed polo shirt and brand-new jogging pants.

  Uncle Bob claps.

  Uncle Bob Marvellous – marvellous singing, girls.

  Girls Uncle Bob! Uncle Bob!

  Uncle Bob Girls! Hello! Sandra! Tommy! Margaret! Happy Christmas!

  Girls Happy Christmas! Happy Christmas, Uncle Bob!

  Some of the others also murmur ‘Happy Christmas’.

  Uncle Bob Marvellous – what a marvellous song.

  Mum What’re you doing here, Robert?

  Uncle Bob Well to be frank with you, I’ve really no idea. I thought I would just suddenly appear, so I did. I suddenly appeared. I craved your company – craved to be with you all – and here I am. I hope I’m not putting you out at all.

  Dad Of course not – you’re very welcome.

  Mum Girls – fetch Robert a chair.

  Uncle Bob Oh no no no no no – no chair for me – I can’t stay.

  Granny You’ve only just arrived.

  Uncle Bob I still can’t stay.

  Hazel Please – please stay – why can’t you?

  Debbie Please make him stay, Mum.

  Uncle Bob Listen – I’d love to stay. You think I don’t want to? Of course I want to. What a marvellous warm house, and what a great great welcome you’ve all given me. There are so many reasons to stay here – and all of them really persuasive: the smell of roast meat – red wine – the crackling log fire* – these two lovely girls with their whole lives ahead of them – and even – if my instincts are right – and they usually are – they usually always are – even – in beautiful young Debbie’s case – yes look – the promise – and how appropriate to the time of year! – the radiant promise of new life to come. Plus there’s the joy of seeing my sister again – how are you, Sandra? don’t look so scared of me, I’m fine – and of being – thanks to her marriage to Tom here – can I call you Tom, Tommy? Or do you prefer Thomas? – I’m not sure he can hear me – anyway, of being, thanks to your marriage to Thomas, Tom, whatever, part now of this marvellous family. Because I am, yes, part now of this family, among whom – if that’s not too formal of me – I number this lady Margaret – Peg, as I think you like to be known – yes: Doctor Peg and Terry here – happy Christmas, Terry – number these two human beings Terry and Peg among my most valued friends – and I am perfectly sincere about that, even though I can see from your eyes – Terry – that you don’t necessarily believe me – which is a shame.

  Mum What is it you want, Robert?

  Uncle Bob One moment, big sister, I’m still talking to Terry.

  Debbie Grandad’s not been well.

  Uncle Bob I’m sorry to hear that, Debbie – but your grandad still needs to understand that when I say I value him as I friend, I mean it. Because I do mean it, Terry. I’m not someone who can say what they don’t mean – understood?

  Grandad makes gesture of friendly agreement.

  Excellent. So – anyway – as I’ve said – there’re a number of very persuasive reasons to stay here and make myself comfortable on the chair that young Deborah – are those real diamonds, sweetheart? – has got out for me – lovely: can I touch? –

  She allows him to touch her ears.

  Beautiful – really beautiful – yes really persuasive reasons to stay –

  Debbie You’re hurting me.

  Uncle Bob What?

  Debbie You’re hurting me.

  Uncle Bob I’m sorry – did that pinch? – I wish I could – yes really wish that I could but I can’t. I want to but I can’t. Did I hurt you? Sorry.

  Granny What is it you’re trying to say to us, Robert?

  Uncle Bob Exactly, Peg – good question. Let me answer it.

  Dad Is he staying or not?

  Mum I don’t know, Tom.

  Uncle Bob Okay. Okay. It’s like this.

  We’re on our way to the airport. Madeleine, I mean, and myself. We’re leaving. We’re leaving the country now. We won’t be coming back. We’ve reached a decision and it’s irreversible. Why? Don’t ask. Don’t even ask. We’re going and that’s that. You won’t see us ever again. You won’t see me, you won’t see Madeleine. That’s why she’s asked me to come in now. Because basically this is the only opportunity she has – before we both leave – before we both irreversibly vanish – for her to tell you how much she hates you – yes hates you and abhors this family.

  Now look – obviously – obviously I would much rather she told you this herself. I said to her: something like that, Madeleine, you’ve got to tell them yourself – not me. But Madeleine points out that she can’t. And it’s true: she quite honestly can’t. There simply aren’t the hours in the day. Her workload’s appalling. And in fact she’s doing her messages now – out there in the car – I know: on Christmas Day – unfair – incredible – but that’s the kind of life she leads – now – do it – can’t not – how can she not? – because once we’re on that plane it’s total dead time – hours of nothing – temazepam then nothing – total dead time till we land – and even then … even then … Well anyway – what was I saying? – oh yes, about Madeleine – about what she would like me to say to you.

  Any chance of a glass of water?

  And actually yes I think I will sit down for a moment.

  Hazel brings him a glass of water.

  Thank you, Hazel. Nice dress. Is it new? I like this – what d’you call this?

  He takes the fabric of her short skirt between his fingers.

  Hazel The hem?

  Uncle Bob The hem – of course it is – lovely.

  He toys with the hem of the dress while he drinks the water.

  Grandad Ten years.

  Uncle Bob What’s that, Terry?

  Grandad Ten years for a crime I didn’t commit.

  Uncle Bob I know. Horrible.

  (Softer and more intense.) But look: this is not me speaking now, it’s Madeleine. She hates you. She finds each one of you in your own way abhorrent. But it’s deeper than that, it’s deeper than that, it goes much deeper than that because it affects her physically – affects her skin – so even now – out there in the car – she’s having to rub in cream. She abreacts. You’re actually affecting – yes – fact – her ability to breathe. And it’s you, Peg, it’s you and Terry – okay, let’s start there – because you’re both so old, she hates you. Okay? She hates this this this smell you have – she says you both smell like flood-damaged carpet and wishes you were dead. Horrid. I know. And not just dead but wants to erase you. I wish I could select them �
�� is what she in fact says – and click delete – I want – yes – to permanently delete not just them but each of their cells, each memory. What do I care about the little shops where they bought sweets, the old currencies they still think in? So what if Peg age five cut her knee skipping and still has the scar – and if Terry remembers the clatter of horse-drawn traps or the signalman shutting by hand the level-crossing gate, so fucking what, so fucking what, she says. This idea that an old person somehow distils life’s essence like a what? like an oil refinery? she totally refutes. She totally refutes, Peg, plus there’s the cost, there’s the unreasonable cost – Terry – of keeping somebody like yourself alive. Why? Why? Why – says Madeleine – are we bothering? And please: it’s not me saying this, it’s her – yes, why do we bother with that old fool? Look at his life – a succession of failures – one business crashing after the other: tropical forestry – mail-order cat-accessories – then there were the pre-booked trips – am I right? – into space, for which you went on taking the clients’ money long after the whole doomed project / had been scrapped.

  Grandad Not all of them failed.

  Debbie Leave him alone.

  Uncle Bob Yes they did fail, Terry – all of them failed – and please don’t interrupt me, sweetheart, because I have a plane to catch and what I am trying to say is long, is very very long and difficult to remember – yes they did fail. They did. And when poor Madeleine thinks about that life of failure crowned now by your mental collapse I am to tell you she doesn’t just want to scream she wants to drink acid.

  Mum Robert?

  Uncle Bob What? – (Inward.) But it’s deeper than that, it’s deeper than that – wants to drink acid but it goes much deeper than that –

  What?

  Mum I think you should leave.

  Uncle Bob You think I don’t want to leave? You think I get pleasure from having to stay here and repeat what another person has instructed me to say? You think this doesn’t hurt? Because I’m afraid she’s right, Sandra: this is so typical of you – so typical of you and Tom in your what? in your yes in your married bubble of stale air not to understand how your own brother could be suffering right now – yes? – yes? – look at me – yes?