The setting is the exterior of a three storey block of flats. A young woman is hanging upside down out of a window on the top floor, suspended by a rope tied around her ankles.
BELLA: Now I've stopped panicking, it’s not too bad. Just hanging around really. Ankles and feet feel a bit funny. The ropes will get tight in a minute, I guess. Will I feel it through the boots? Ah well, I wanted to do this.
Blood is rushing in a leisurely fashion to my head. I feel sort of heavy headed rather than light headed.
Don't think about heads. Not today. Not again. This is to change my perspective, not to brood.
So I’m here. What does the world look like when you are hanging upside down from a window?
(looking down)
Don’t panic. Breathe. It’s OK. This would have been better if I lived on the first floor. What on earth made me think this was a good idea. I am safe. I hope. My nerves will hold and so will the rope.
This was a good idea at 4 am this morning, and nothing has changed. The rope is tied to my chest of drawers, full of clothes. It’s much heavier than I am. I am sure it is. It will stay still. This is a good idea, or at least well worked out. I need a new perspective. Any new perspective. And hanging out the window is a way to find one. If I just wasn't so terrified. …Three stories isn't that high. Goblin is a small cat and he has survived three headers out the window. I can too.
Last night's dreams were too vivid and graphic. I keep seeing that dreadful argument with Paul. And me killing him! In the dream. It was just a dream. It was so real. The sound of the cast bronze hitting his flesh and breaking his skull.
I have to get it out of my head.
I will. I'm hanging upside down looking at the world. Don't look down, look out. See the world beyond.
What world beyond? All I can see is the brick wall opposite. The same view that's driven me crazy for weeks. Every day all I can see is that wall and a tiny strip of sky. You'd think it would have driven me to my studio to do some work. But no, never that.
Actually from here I get a better view of the windows and balconies opposite. Goodness I can see under the balcony. There's cobwebs. There's dozens of cobwebs. The people below must see them when they look up. Moral of the story don't take a flat with a balcony above yours.
Ok, so I can see something different. That's a change. That's good. Cos things have to change, Apart from anything else I've never wanted to physically hurt anyone before. I'm still shocked. That's it. I am shocked by myself. It’s not as if it was the first time Paul stood there sneering at me, deriding my work, or for that matter my body or me. Yet I just knew I had to leave or I was going to hurt him.
There would have been a certain symmetry in beating his head in with a cast bust of his own head. Though I’m not sure that would have made a good defence.
That feeling was overwhelming. I wanted to do it. I wanted to hurt him.
I'm glad I left. The only problem is my memory goes crazy. I remember going out the door. That's all I remember, then the nightmares.
(Bella sees a man of 60 below)
There's Jaimie. Will I stay quiet and let him walk by or call out? A private joke or a shared one? Bugger it.
Hello Jaimie.
(He glances in her direction)
JAIMIE: Hello gorgeous, how's tricks?
BELLA: Good. How are you?
What a wonderful moment. A normal greeting, a half glance, the expectation of what he'd see, then he saw and registered. No, I'm not leaning out the window. I am hanging out my window by my feet.
JAIMIE: What are you...? Are you all right?
BELLA: I'm fine.
JAIMIE: Bella love. You… I don't quite… what do you think you’re doing?
BELLA: Just thought I'd get a look at the world from a different angle. It’s quite comfortable really. Though it is a little awkward getting in and out of the window. Obviously I can only speak from experience about getting out, but I'm sure getting back in will be a challenge.
JAIMIE: Yes…
BELLA: How are you today Jaimie?
JAIMIE: Fine ...I'm fine... I'm just off to do some shopping. Are you going to be there long lovey?
BELLA: Yes, I'll probably still be here when you get back. I want to embrace the experience.
JAIMIE: Bella love you are not well. Indeed you’ve been looking quite appalling lately. What have you been doing to yourself?
BELLA: Nothing. I haven't been looking that bad, have I?
JAIMIE: Dreadful. You've really let yourself go. Yes, you have. You know me I always say what I think. Now tell me the goss.
BELLA: There isn't any. Not really. I liked a guy. He didn't like me. I'm not going to see him any more
JAIMIE: Now that's dull. Can't you do any better than that?
BELLA: Seems not.
JAIMIE; Really. You just waste time don't you? Is this a rerun of that guy in Adelaide?
BELLA: Oh, sort of.
JAIMIE: Dear, dear, baby, repetitions and patterns are not good. It’s not the way.
BELLA: No.
JAIMIE: You should do something about getting your life in order. I've never been like you. I've known exactly what I wanted and gone for it.
BELLA: I've just never managed as well as you Jaimie.
JAIMIE: No, you haven't. How's your work going?
BELLA: Fine. I... I've actually lined up an exhibition.
JAIMIE: That's nice. You must let us know when it’s on. Junior likes your work. I can't imagine why.
BELLA: Thanks Jaimie, I love you too.
JAIMIE: Junior still wants to buy that horse piece you had in your last exhibition.
BELLA: Well I'm keeping it for him, after a fashion.
JAIMIE: You mean you haven't been able to sell it.
BELLA: No. Sculptures aren't like pots and plates you know.
JAIMIE: Then maybe you should start working on pots. Hmm... Anyway I must run.
BELLA: Jaimie is his usual self. I at least expected him to ask if I was doing this to improve my tits.
And this isn't like the guy in Adelaide, it’s ten times worse.
Am I really looking that bad? I suppose I haven't slept well for ages and I couldn't sleep last night once the nightmares started. Maybe I've gone peculiar altogether? I wonder if Jaimie's ever had a desperate desire to hurt someone. Not the sort of thing you can ask really. He'd consider the question bizarre.
I suppose I am behaving a little bizarrely. It’s not that bizarre, more awkward than anything else. All my muscles are stretching in unusual ways. This must be a healthy thing to do. People hang upside down from their doorways for their backs. And they have to attach special stirrup boot things to their door frames. I just need a rope for my version.
I think that hanging outside from a window has to be more interesting than hanging from a doorway. I get to see the world go by. Study people as a strange exercise in reversal and distortion. It’s like being back at Art School, learning to look at the world anew. People look little and silly from this angle, though probably not as silly as me.
If Paul could see me he'd really have a go. I can see the sneer. His whole mouth distorts. I should sculpt him as some sort of gargoyle. How did things get so out of hand? I just hurt all the time. And I kept going back to him. Hoping he'd discover he loved me. What on earth have I been doing to myself? And I did it. I let him hurt me and put me down. God I've got no-one to blame but myself. That's awful. It’s been like a merry go round. All his little denying games. I was not allowed to say hello to him in public unless he said hello to me first. Half the time he'd avoid talking to me altogether and always ostentatiously if Sarah or Max were round. Then when we were together, he’d pretend not to be home or to be alone if someone called. The games with Max were the worst. I always knew when Max was there when I rang because Paul would be icy. And if I was there when Max called he'd make a fuss about being alone. It was crazy and hurtful. And the notes from Sarah, they'd be on display and just in case I didn't no
tice them he'd always take them down and show me. Or report where Sarah had invited him recently.
Every time I decided not see him anymore he'd go out of his way to be nice. It could be so good then. Then the moment he knew I was hooked again he'd go back to the games. If he'd just been not interested I would have gone away but he kept ringing. He kept making arrangements to be together. Then as soon as I felt comfortable he'd say something to make sure I knew it was only this time. Only this one time, every second day for six months.
Those nightmares are the finish.
When you have graphic nightmares about killing someone it’s definitely time to stop seeing them. I just wish I could stop thinking about him. Why did I have to bring him out here with me? What is out here?
There is a cat in that tree. Which one are you? Ah ha. It’s Tutankhamen.
Yes hello Tutankhamen. At least you don't behave like the people walking past. You don't pretend you don't see me. They make this obvious decision not to see. I didn't think I'd be so apparent from the ground. But it seems I am. It’s funny to watch. First they give a start, they probably think some poor person has fallen and needs help. Then they realise I am hanging around quite happily. They pull back. You can hear them telling themselves, do not look. Pretend this nutter isn't there.
Well yes I am here.
What new thing can I sense out here? Noises sound different. Sort of filtered, yet clearer, disembodied entities that conjure images and pass by. Actually the only thing I can sense is my growing boredom. There is no pleasing some people. My constant need for instant gratification is getting to be a concern. It’s getting positively silly. I'll prepare a meal then wonder why I have to wait for things to cook. I’ve never had much patience but this is getting out of hand. Need, need, need. What need am I filling now? What deep psychological meaning is there in spending a morning hanging out a window? Maybe there isn't any. Oooh. Everything has deep psychological meaning. You can't just do something for fun. Or because you are bored with your own life and obsessions. It’s amazing how dull taking yourself too seriously can get. I ought to know, I spend enough time doing it. It’s just as well this sort of silliness lets me keep myself in perspective.
How about that? I'm glad I trusted myself. I did need a new perspective. And the perspective I needed was to see how silly I was. I just needed to laugh at myself.
OK, now the constructive bit is out of the way, how the hell am I going to get back inside? I suppose you pay a price for everything one way or another. This will be good for me. Physical exercise as well as a good laugh at myself.
(Bella tries to reach the window with her hands. She pulls herself up by gripping her legs, going hand over hand. She reaches her feet with her hands. But though level with the sill she can’t get any further)
Oh God. OK... So I can hold onto my feet. But that doesn't get me any closer. Wriggle girl, wriggle. I got out here, I can get back in ...No. I need leverage. If I can brace myself I should be able to. ...No. There is nothing to give me leverage. I think I want to cry. I'm too far out to wriggle back in. I'm too far out to pull myself in. What do I do now?
(A woman in her late 30s is below.)
SARAH: What are you doing? Trying to make yourself interesting? Seems a bit desperate.
BELLA: What? Oh. Hello Sarah. How are you?
SARAH: I am really upset. Have you heard the dreadful news? Well you wouldn't have, would you? You weren't really a close friend, but it will be a shock. ...Paul .....is .....dead.
BELLA: What? He can't be. I only dreamed it.
SARAH: I don't know anything about your dreams but he is. You know he was a very close friend of mine. That's how I know so soon. The police called me.
BELLA: The police? Why did the police call you?
SARAH: My little notes. They were all over the place. My notes were special to Paul. He kept them all. According to the police, you couldn't sit in the kitchen or the bedroom without seeing one. I had no idea how much they meant to him.
BELLA: Who knows eh?
SARAH: I should have realised he was in love with me. But I haven't seen him for ages. He never returned my calls no matter how many messages I left. My SMS and emails got no response at all. Every time I dropped round he's been out. That's why I had to resort to the notes.
BELLA: The notes were because you couldn't talk to him?
SARAH: Well, they were more than that to him. Obviously, he was so obsessed with me, he couldn’t cope. I knew it had to be something like that. I have an instinct for these things you know. I can always tell.
BELLA: Oh really. Let me get this straight. Did you have an affair with Paul?
SARAH: Well… not as such. Not a physical affair. But clearly he wanted too.
BELLA: Right... So what did the police say?
SARAH: It was thrilling. The phone rang and I answered it. I heard this male voice saying he was from the police and they were hoping I could help them with their enquiries. He was very concerned about preparing me for the shock. Of course I thought it was someone fooling around.
BELLA: What did they say?
SARAH: It was really gruesome. There was blood every where.
BELLA: No there wasn't.
SARAH: How would you know?
BELLA: It was a stupid thing to say. How did they find the body so quickly?
SARAH: It wasn't quick at all. It happened sometime late yesterday. It might have been ages before anyone noticed he wasn't around. It seems, according to Max, Paul pretends to be out and screens his calls.
BELLA: So who found him?
SARAH: The police did.
BELLA: How?
SARAH: Remember that nasty fight he had in the pub. When that awful man hit him with the bottle?
BELLA: Yes.
SARAH: Anyway. That man is filing counter charges against Paul or was and the police wanted to talk to Paul. They've called a dozen times and never gotten to see him, even when he arranged the time. When they arrived this morning, his landlord was banging at the door. It seems Paul hadn’t been paying his bills and things.
BELLA: Yes well. He never likes to give anything away.
SARAH: You sound quite bitter dear. You did rather fancy him didn't you? For a while there I thought he fancied you.
BELLA: Go on, what happened?
SARAH: Well the policeman and the landlord started checking round the place and a window was open. The owner wanted to break in, so the policeman did. And he found Paul. There were signs that someone else had been with him recently...Was he having an affair with anyone?
BELLA: How would I know?
SARAH: True. I rang Max as soon as I talked to the police and he’s sure Paul has been seeing someone. But he'd always deny it. I think she must have been married.
BELLA: Well that's one explanation.
SARAH: Maybe she was someone he was ashamed to be seen with?
BELLA: Oh lovely. So no-one has any idea who it was?
SARAH: No and you haven’t even asked how he died. He cut his wrists and some artery in his leg and lay in the bath.
BELLA: What? He killed himself. Oh... This is some sort of joke.
SARAH: Don't be ridiculous. No-one jokes about people being dead.
BELLA: Are you sure it really was the police?
SARAH: Yes I’m sure. And anyway I checked with Max. If anyone would know he would.
BELLA: Yes well. ...Presumably I'll hear from the police too.
SARAH: Why? Everyone knows you weren't close friends or anything.
BELLA: Sometimes I forget that... Did he leave a note or anything?
SARAH: No, that's why they’re ringing people. Even Max has no idea why he did it.
BELLA: Max has no idea?
SARAH: Not a clue. Max didn't know anything was wrong.
BELLA: I didn't even know Paul was particularly unhappy.
SARAH: No, but you wouldn't. I think it must have been something to do with his obsession with me.
BELLA: You don't
think he would have answered your calls. It might have been a bit more practical. Certainly simpler and less painful.
SARAH: Obviously, he thought it was hopeless.
BELLA: Sarah he knew you were chasing him. Everyone knows you wanted him.
SARAH: Then why did he have my notes up everywhere?
BELLA: I don't know.
SARAH: I think you are just jealous. Any way I better run, I'm having coffee with Janet and you know what she's like about appointments. I just dropped by to tell you my sad news. Bye
BELLA: Paul is dead. He killed himself? I can't believe it.
So what happened last night? I took him the bronze portrait. I worked so hard on that bust of him. When he saw it in my studio, he said he wanted it. And it was good. One of my best pieces. Then when I brought it round for him as a gift, he was so nasty about it and me. Standing over me, taunting me.
He was trying to provoke me... Like he did with that man in the pub, needling and picking. And Paul was so shocked and outraged when the man hit him. And so pleased. What would he have done to me if I hit him? Is that what he wanted? Would he be alive now if he'd struck me back? I can't deal with this. I don't even believe it. Maybe it didn't happen? Could Sarah be wrong? Paul wouldn't kill himself. He liked himself too much.
He went to such lengths to keep things secret I don't even have the right to find out he's dead. And all the games about Sarah and all the time he wasn't seeing her, just pretending.
Oh god. I feel tired. I've got to get inside and sit down.
Oooh... try harder. This is hopeless. What do I want to get back in for? To ring Max? No. He'd be rude.
...Why did he do it? Will the police ask me about last night? I suppose they won't even know I was there.
Why didn't I know he was unhappy? He was nastier than usual. But that was it. He's so powerful when he’s nasty. Surely people aren't revelling in their own power when they’re about to kill themselves...
He's sneered at my work. He's always thought he'd do better if he felt like trying.
...The pieces I saw... He's been working for weeks, copying my work.
His work? He had more success than I did, surely that was enough. He always thought he deserved more, sometimes I think he really believed there could only be one artist in the world at a time and he was it. He was special. Was that it? He couldn't deal with not being the special one. But if he wanted to believe that, there were enough people round who'd reinforce it. Sarah for a start and she owns a gallery. She'd exhibit him any time he liked. He was just never ready to exhibit. Never ready?... I wonder if he realised he wasn't as good as he thought? That's nasty. But none of us are as good as we like to believe. Do you kill yourself because you realise you have to join the rest of the human race?
(Jaimie returns)
JAIMIE: Still there Gorgeous.
BELLA: What? Yes. Oh god, Jaimie didn't I lend you a spare key to my flat once?
JAIMIE: Did you?
BELLA: Yes. Don't you remember? When you fed the cat for me that time I went to Adelaide. I didn't take it back did I?
JAIMIE: Yes, now you mention it, I think you did leave it with me.
BELLA: He is just standing there pursing his lips. Jaimie you must know why I am asking. But you are going to make me say, aren't you?
I need your help to get back in. I can't manage by myself.
JAIMIE: Do you think I should interfere with your experiment?
BELLA: Just help me please Jaimie.
JAIMIE: We are in a touchy mood? I'll have to put my shopping away first. I went to the greengrocers and got carried away. Then I'll have a little hunt for the key. OK?
BELLA: OK. Just hurry please. I think I’ve pulled every muscle in my body.
Maybe if I can get my hands up on the window sill behind my back there will be some leverage. Oh God.
JAIMIE: Here you are sweetie. Auntie Jaimie to the rescue.
BELLA: Oh you sweet man. If you could just let yourself in and help me in the window. I will be grateful for life.
Through here Jaimie.
JAIMIE: Sweet thing, you really should dust more often. Your housekeeping is positively negligent.
BELLA: Yes I know. Could you just come and help please? ...Jaimie?
JAIMIE: I'm coming. OK, now what do you want me to do? Give me your hand, I think. ...No I can't really reach. And what would we do even if I could? Shake hands?
BELLA: ...Are you up to pulling me in by the rope? I can help myself once my ankles are in.
JAIMIE: I don't know dear? Shall we see?
(Jaimie starts to pull the rope into the room.)
BELLA: OW, oh God!
JAIMIE: I hate to say it but that little pot tum of yours is only the tip of the iceberg.
BELLA: OK, yes I am too fat.
JAIMIE: Now don't dramatise yourself.
BELLA: If we can just get my calves over the sill... Halleluiah. I'm right now. I can get in.
JAIMIE: Well, yes it looks like you can. Here let me help.
BELLA: Thanks.
JAIMIE: OK now sweetie?
BELLA: Yes.
JAIMIE: By the way Gorgeous, I did want to ask. Tell me honestly, were you doing this for your tits?
BELLA: OK. Yes Jaimie. I was. I read it in a magazine.
JAIMIE: Have you got any new ones with recipes?
BELLA: Yes, on the coffee table. Just take them. I think I need to be alone just now.
JAIMIE: No offer of a cup of tea?
BELLA: I'm sorry. Would you like a cup of tea?
JAIMIE: I always have a cup of tea after facing the shops. I deprived myself in order to rush to your rescue.
BELLA: I know and I'm grateful. I'll put the kettle on.
JAIMIE: No dear. I wouldn't think of imposing. I can see you need a rest.
BELLA: Thank you Jaimie. For your help and being so understanding.
JAIMIE: OK Baby. When you are feeling better come up for a cuppa. I have the most amazing goss for you. You won't believe it. It made me so angry I wanted to turn like a black snake. But you know what I'm like.
(he leaves)
BELLA: At least Jaimie is always predictable. I need to lie down. I don't know what to think. I can't believe I could spend so much time with someone and not know they were suicidal ...and not hurt when they’re dead. All I feel is relief. I thought I loved Paul. This is awful. I am awful. I can't even talk to anyone about this. God knows what I'd look like if I suddenly started saying Paul and I were lovers when no-one knew before.
I was wrong, my problem is that I need some perspective.
Greed
Philip Caveney
The Voyage: Edited by Chandani Lokuge & David Morley Page 14
