A Slight Ache was first performed on the BBC Third Programme on 9 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 18 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.]
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, Weddie. 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?
EDWARD: Go out and call him in.
FLORA: Are you serious?
[Pause.]
Edward, I could call the police. Or even the vicar.
EDWARD: Go and get him.
She goes out. Silence.
EDWARD waits.
FLORA [in the garden]: Good morning.
[Pause.]
We haven't met. I live in this house here. My husband and I.
[Pause.]
I wonder if you could… would you care for a cup of tea?
[Pause.]
Or a glass of lemon? It must be so dry, standing here.
[Pause.]
Would you like to come inside for a little while? It's much cooler. There's something we'd very much like to… tell you, that will benefit you. Could you spare a few moments? We won't keep you long.
[Pause.]
Might I buy your tray of matches, do you think? We've run out, completely, and we always keep a very large stock. It happens that way, doesn't it? Well, we can discuss it inside. Do come. This way. Ah now, do come. Our house is full of curios, you know. My husband's been rather a collector. We have goose for lunch. Do you care for goose?
She moves to the gate.
Come and have lunch with us. This way. That's… right. May I take your arm? There's a good deal of nettle inside the gate. [The MATCHSELLER appears.] Here. This way. Mind now. Isn't it beautiful weather? It's the longest day of the year today.
[Pause.]
That's honeysuckle. And that's convolvulus. There's clematis. And do you see that plant by the conservatory? That's japonica.
Silence. She enters the study.
FLORA: He's here.
EDWARD: I know.
FLORA: He's in the hall.
EDWARD: I know he's here. I can smell him.
FLORA: Smell him?
EDWARD: I smelt him when he came under my window. Can't you smell the house now?
FLORA: What are you going to do with him, Edward? You won't be rough with him in any way? He's very old. I'm not sure if he can hear, or even see. And he's wearing the oldest-
EDWARD: I don't want to know what he's wearing.
FLORA: But you'll see for yourself in a minute, if you speak to him.
EDWARD: I shall.
[Slight pause.]
FLORA: He's an old man. You won't… be rough with him?
EDWARD: If he's so old, why doesn't he seek shelter… from the storm?
FLORA: But there's no storm. It's summer, the longest day…
EDWARD: There was a storm, last week. A summer storm. He stood without moving, while it raged about him.
FLORA: When was this?
EDWARD: He remained quite still, while it thundered all about him.
[Pause.]
FLORA: Edward… are you sure it's wise to bother about all this?
EDWARD: Tell him to come in.
FLORA: I…
EDWARD: Now.
She goes and collects the MATCHSELLER.
FLORA: Hullo. Would you like to go in? I won't be long. Up these stairs here.
[Pause.]
You can have some sherry before lunch.
[Pause.]
Shall I take your tray? No. Very well, take it with you. Just… up those stairs. The door at the…
[She watches him move.]
the door…
[Pause.]
the door at the top. I'll join you… later. [She goes out.]
The MATCHSELLER stands on the threshold of the study.
EDWARD [cheerfully]: Here I am. Where are you?
[Pause.]
Don't stand out there, old chap. Come into my study.
[He rises.] Come in.
The MATCHSELLER enters.
That's right. Mind how you go. That's… it. Now. make yourself comfortable. Thought you might like some refreshment, on a day like this. Sit down, old man. What will you have? Sherry? Or what about a double scotch? Eh?
[Pause.]
I entertain the villagers annually, as a matter of fact. I'm not the squire, but they look upon me with some regard. Don't believe we've got a squire here any more, actually. Don't know what became of him. Nice old man he was. Great chess-player, as I remember. Three daughters. The pride of the county. Flaming red hair. Alice was the eldest. Sit yourself down, old chap. Eunice I think was number two. The youngest one was the best of the bunch. Sally. No, no, wait a minute, no, it wasn't Sally, it was… Fanny. Fanny. A flower. You must be a stranger here. Unless you lived here once, went on a long voyage and have lately returned. Do you know the district?
[Pause.]
Now, now, you mustn't… stand about like that. Take a seat. Which one would you prefer? We have a great variety, as you see. Can't stand uniformity. Like different seats, different backs. Often when I'm working, you know, I draw up one chair, scribble a few lines, put it by, draw up another, sit back, ponder, put it by… [absently]… sit back… put it by…
[Pause.]
I write theological and philosophical essays…
[Pause.]
Now and again I jot down a few observations on certain tropical phenomena-not from the same standpoint, of course. [Silent pause.] Yes. Africa, now. Africa's always been my happy hunting ground. Fascinating country. Do you know it? I get the impression that you've… been around a bit. Do you by any chance know the Membunza Mountains? Great range south of Katambaloo. French Equatorial Africa, if my memory serves me right. Most extraordinary diversity of flora and fauna. Especially fauna. I understand in the Gobi Desert you can come across some very strange sights. Never been there myself. Studied the maps though. Fascinating things, maps.
[Pause.]
Do you live in the village? I don't often go down, of course. Or are you passing through? On your way to another part of the country? Well, I can tell you, in my opinion you won't find many prettier parts than here. We win the first prize regularly, you know, the best kept village in the area. Sit down.
[Pause.]
I say, can you hear me?
[Pause.]
I said, I say, can you hear me?
[Pause.]
You possess most extraordinary repose, for a man of your age, don't you? Well, perhaps that's not quite the right word… repose. Do you find it chilly in here? I'm sure it's chillier in here than out. I haven't been out yet, today, though I shall probably spend the whole afternoon working, in the garden, under my canopy, at my table, by the pool.
[Pause.]
Oh, I understand you met my wife? Charming woman, don't you think? Plenty of grit there, too. Stood by me through thick and thin, that woman. In season and out of season. Fine figure of a woman she was, too, in her youth. Wonderful carriage, flaming red hair. [He stops abruptly.]
[Pause.]
Yes, I… I was in much the same position myself then as you are now, you understand. Struggling to make my way in the world. I was in commerce too. [With a chuckle.] Oh, yes, I know what it's like-the weather, the rain, beaten from pillar to post, up hill and down dale… the rewards were few… winters in hovels… up till all hours working at your thesis… yes, I've done it all. Let me advise you. Get a good woman to stick by you. Never mind what the world says. Keep at it. Keep your shoulder to the wheel. It'll pay dividends.
Pause.
[With a laugh.] You must excuse my chatting away like this. We have few visitors this time of the year. All our friends summer abroad. I'm a home bird myself. Wouldn't mind taking a trip to Asia Minor, mind you, or to certain lower regions of the Congo, but Europe? Out of the question. Much too noisy. I'm sure you agree. Now look, what will you have to drink? A glass of ale? Cura?ao Fockink Orange? Ginger beer? Tia Maria? A Wachenheimer Fuchsmantel Reisling Beeren Auslese? Gin and it? Chateauneuf-du-Pape? A little Asti Spumante? Or what do you say to a straightforward Piesporter Goldtropfschen Feine Auslese (Reichsgraf von Kesselstaff)? Any preference?
[Pause.]
You look a trifle warm. Why don't you take off your balaclava? I'd find that a little itchy myself. But then I've always been one for freedom of movement. Even in the depth of winter I wear next to nothing.
[Pause.]
I say, can I ask you a personal question? I don't want to seem inquisitive but aren't you rather on the wrong road for matchselling? Not terribly busy, is it? Of course you may not care for petrol fumes or the noise of traffic. I can quite understand that.
[Pause.]
Do forgive me peering but is that a glass eye you're wearing?
[Pause.]
Do take off your balaclava, there's a good chap, put your tray down and take your ease, as they say in this part of the world. [He moves towards him.] I must say you keep quite a good stock, don't you? Tell me, between ourselves, are those boxes full, or are there just a few half-empty ones among them? Oh yes, I used to be in commerce. Well now, before the good lady sounds the gong for petit déjeuner will you join me in an apéritif? I recommend a glass of cider. Now… just a minute… I know I've got some-Look out! Mind your tray!
The tray falls, and the matchboxes.
Good God, what…?
[Pause.]
You've dropped your tray.
Pause. He picks the matchboxes up.
[Grunts.] Eh, these boxes are all wet. You've no right to sell wet matches, you know. Uuuuugggh. This feels suspiciously like fungus. You won't get very far in this trade if you don't take care of your goods. [Grunts, rising.] Well, here you are.
[Pause.]
Here's your tray.
He puts the tray into the MATCHSELLER's hands, and sits. Pause.
Now listen, let me be quite frank with you, shall I? I really cannot understand why you don't sit down. There are four chairs at your disposal. Not to mention the hassock. I can't possibly talk to you unless you're settled. Then and only then can I speak to you. Do you follow me? You're not being terribly helpful. [Slight pause.] You're sweating. The sweat's pouring out of you. Take off that balaclava.
[Pause.]
Go into the corner then. Into the corner. Go on. Get into the shade of the corner. Back. Backward.
[Pause.]
Get back!
[Pause.]
Ah, you understand me. Forgive me for saying so, but I had decided that you had the comprehension of a bullock. I was mistaken. You understand me perfectly well. That's right. A little more. A little to the right. Aaah. Now you're there. In shade, in shadow. Good-o. Now I can get down to brass tacks. Can't I?
[Pause.]
No doubt you're wondering why I invited you into this house? You may think I was alarmed by the look of you. You would be quite mistaken. I was not alarmed by the look of you. I did not find you at all alarming. No, no. Nothing outside this room has ever alarmed me. You disgusted me, quite forcibly, if you want to know the truth.
[Pause.]
Why did you disgust me to that extent? That seems to be a pertinent question. You're no more disgusting than Fanny, the squire's daughter, after all. In appearance you differ but not in essence. There's the same…
[Pause.]
The same…
[Pause.]
[In a low voice.] I want to ask you a question. Why do you stand outside my back gate, from dawn till dusk, why do you pretend to sell matches, why…? What is it, damn you. You're shivering. You're sagging. Come here, come here… mind your tray! [EDWARD rises and moves behind a chair.] Come, quick quick. There. Sit here. Sit… sit in this.
The MATCHSELLER stumbles and sits. Pause.
Aaaah! You're sat. At last. What a relief. You must be tired. [Slight pause.] Chair comfortable? I bought it in a sale. I bought all the furniture in this house in a sale. The same sale. When I was a young man. You too, perhaps. You too, perhaps.
[Pause.]
At the same time, perhaps!
[Pause.]
[Muttering.] I must get some air. I must get a breath of air.
He goes to the door.
Flora!
FLORA: Yes?
EDWARD [with great weariness]: Take me into the garden.
Silence. They move from the study door to a chair under a canopy.
FLORA: Come under the canopy.
EDWARD: Ah. [He sits.]
[Pause.]
The peace. The peace out here.
FLORA: Look at our trees.
EDWARD: Yes.
FLORA: Our own trees. Can you hear the birds?
EDWARD: No, I can't hear them.
FLORA: But they're singing, high up, and flapping.
EDWARD: Good. Let them flap.
FLORA: Shall I bring your lunch out here? You can have it in peace, and a quiet drink, under your canopy.
[Pause.]
How are you getting on with your old man?
EDWARD: What do you mean?
FLORA: What's happening? How are you getting on with him?
EDWARD: Very well. We get on remarkably well. He's a little… reticent. Somewhat withdrawn. It's understandable. I should be the same, perhaps, in his place. Though, of course, I could not possibly find myself in his place.
FLORA: Have you found out anything about him?
EDWARD: A little. A little. He's had various trades, that's certain. His place of residence is unsure. He's… he's not a drinking man. As yet, I haven't discovered the reason for his arrival here. I shall in due course… by nightfall.
FLORA: Is it necessary?
EDWARD: Necessary?
FLORA [quickly sitting on the right arm of the chair]: I could show him out now, it wouldn't matter. You've seen him, he's harmless, unfortunate… old, that's all. Edward-listen-he's not here through any… design, or anything, I know it. I mean, he might just as well stand outside our back gate as anywhere else. He'll move on. I can… make him. I promise you. There's no point in upsetting yourself like this. He's an old man, weak in the head… that's all.
[Pause.]
EDWARD: You're deluded.
FLORA: Edward-
EDWARD [rising]: You're deluded. And stop calling me Edward.
FLORA: You're not still frightened of him?
EDWARD: Frightened of him? Of him? Have you seen him?
[Pause.]
He's like jelly. A great bullockfat of jelly. He can't see straight. I think as a matter of fact he wears a glass eye. He's almost stone deaf… almost… not quite. He's very nearly dead on his feet. Why should he frighten me? No, you're a woman, you know nothing. [Slight pause.] But he possesses other faculties. Cunning. The man's an imposter and he knows I know it.
FLORA: I'll tell you what. Look. Let me speak to him. I'll speak to him.
EDWARD [quietly]: And I know he knows I know it.
FLORA: I'll find out all about him, Edward. I promise you I will.
EDWARD: And he knows I know.
FLORA: Edward! Listen to me! I can find out all about him, I promise you. I shall go and have a word with him now. I shall… get to the bottom of it.
EDWARD: You? It's laughable.
FLORA: You'll see-he won't bargain for me. I'll surprise him. He'll… he'll admit everything.
EDWARD [softly]: He'll admit everything, will he?
FLORA: You wait and see, you just-
EDWARD [hissing]: What are you plotting?
FLORA: I know exactly what I shall-
EDWARD: What are you plotting?
He seizes her arms.
FLORA: Edward, you're hurting me!
[Pause.]
[With dignity.] I shall wave from the window when I'm ready. Then you can come up. I shall get to the truth of it, I assure you. You're much too heavy-handed, in every way. You should trust your wife more, Edward. You should trust her judgment, and have a greater insight into her capabilities. A woman… a woman will often succeed, you know, where a man must invariably fail.
Silence. She goes into the study.
Do you mind if I come in?
The door closes.
Are you comfortable?
[Pause.]
Oh, the sun's shining directly on you. Wouldn't you rather sit in the shade?
She sits down.
It's the longest day of the year today, did you know that? Actually the year has flown. I can remember Christmas and that dreadful frost. And the floods! I hope you weren't here in the floods. We were out of danger up here, of course, but in the valleys whole families I remember drifted away on the current. The country was a lake. Everything stopped. We lived on our own preserves, drank elderberry wine, studied other cultures.
[Pause.]
Do you know, I've got a feeling I've seen you before, somewhere. Long before the flood. You were much younger. Yes, I'm really sure of it. Between ourselves, were you ever a poacher? I had an encounter with a poacher once. It was a ghastly rape, the brute. High up on a hillside cattle track. Early spring. I was out riding on my pony. And there on the verge a man lay-ostensibly injured, lying on his front, I remember, possibly the victim of a murderous assault, how was I to know? I dismounted, I went to him, he rose, I fell, my pony took off, down to the valley. I saw the sky through the trees, blue. Up to my ears in mud. It was a desperate battle.
[Pause.]
I lost.
[Pause.]
Of course, life was perilous in those days. It was my first canter unchaperoned.
[Pause.]
Years later, when I was a Justice of the Peace for the county, I had him in front of the bench. He was there for poaching. That's how I know he was a poacher. The evidence though was sparse, inadmissible, I acquitted him, letting him off with a caution. He'd grown a red beard, I remember. Yes. A bit of a stinker.
[Pause.]
I say, you are perspiring, aren't you? Shall I mop your brow? With my chiffon? Is it the heat? Or the closeness? Or confined space? Or…? [She goes over to him.] Actually, the day is cooling. It'll soon be dusk. Perhaps it is dusk. May I? You don't mind?
[Pause. She mops his brow.]
Ah, there, that's better. And your cheeks. It is a woman's job, isn't it? And I'm the only woman on hand. There.
Pause. She leans on the arm of chair.
[Intimately.] Tell me, have you a woman? Do you like women? Do you ever… think about women?
[Pause.]
Have you ever… stopped a woman?
[Pause.]
I'm sure you must have been quite attractive once. [She sits.] Not any more, of course. You've got a vile smell. Vile. Quite repellent, in fact.
[Pause.]
Sex, I suppose, means nothing to you. Does it ever occur to you that sex is a very vital experience for other people? Really, I think you'd amuse me if you weren't so hideous. You're probably quite amusing in your own way. [Seductively.] Tell me all about love. Speak to me of love.
[Pause.]
God knows what you're saying at this very moment. It's quite disgusting. Do you know when I was a girl I loved… I loved… I simply adored… what have you got on, for goodness sake? A jersey? It's clogged. Have you been rolling in mud? [Slight pause.] You haven't been rolling in mud, have you? [She rises and goes over to him.] And what have you got under your jersey? Let's see. [Slight pause.] I'm not tickling you, am I? No. Good… Lord, is this a vest? That's quite original. Quite original. [She sits on the arm of his chair.] Hmmnn, you're a solid old boy, I must say. Not at all like a jelly. All you need is a bath. A lovely lathery bath. And a good scrub. A lovely lathery scrub. [Pause.] Don't you? It will be a pleasure. [She throws her arms round him.] I'm going to keep you. I'm going to keep you, you dreadful chap, and call you Barnabas. Isn't it dark, Barnabas? Your eyes, your eyes, your great big eyes.
Pause.
My husband would never have guessed your name. Never. [She kneels at his feet. Whispering.] It's me you were waiting for, wasn't it? You've been standing waiting for me. You've seen me in the woods, picking daisies, in my apron, my pretty daisy apron, and you came and stood, poor creature, at my gate, till death us do part. Poor Barnabas. I'm going to put you to bed. I'm going to put you to bed and watch over you. But first you must have a good whacking great bath. And I'll buy you pretty little things that will suit you. And little toys to play with. On your deathbed. Why shouldn't you die happy?
A shout from the hall.
EDWARD: Well?
[Footsteps upstage.]
Well?
FLORA: Don't come in.
EDWARD: Well?
FLORA: He's dying.
EDWARD: Dying? He's not dying.
FLORA: I tell you, he's very ill.
EDWARD: He's not dying! Nowhere near. He'll see you cremated.
FLORA: The man is desperately ill!
EDWARD: Ill? You lying slut. Get back to your trough!
FLORA: Edward…
EDWARD [violently]: To your trough!
She goes out. Pause.
[Coolly.] Good evening to you. Why are you sitting in the gloom? Oh, you've begun to disrobe. Too warm? Let's open these windows, then, what?
He opens the windows.
Pull the blinds.
He pulls the blinds.
And close… the curtains… again.
He closes the curtains.
Ah. Air will enter through the side chinks. Of the blinds. And filter through the curtains. I hope. Don't want to suffocate, do we?
[Pause.]
More comfortable? Yes. You look different in darkness. Take off all your togs, if you like. Make yourself at home. Strip to your buff. Do as you would in your own house.
[Pause.]
Did you say something?
[Pause.]
Did you say something?
[Pause.]
Anything? Well then, tell me about your boyhood. Mmnn?
[Pause.]
What did you do with it? Run? Swim? Kick the ball? You kicked the ball? What position? Left back? Goalie? First reserve?
[Pause.]
I used to play myself. Country house matches, mostly. Kept wicket and batted number seven.
[Pause.]
Kept wicket and batted number seven. Man called-Cavendish, I think had something of your style. Bowled left arm over the wicket, always kept his cap on, quite a dab hand at solo whist, preferred a good round of prop and cop to anything else.
[Pause.]
On wet days when the field was swamped.
[Pause.]
Perhaps you don't play cricket.
[Pause.]
Perhaps you never met Cavendish and never played cricket. You look less and less like a cricketer the more I see of you. Where did you live in those days? God damn it, I'm entitled to know something about you! You're in my blasted house, on my territory, drinking my wine, eating my duck! Now you've had your fill you sit like a hump, a mouldering heap. In my room. My den. I can rem… [He stops abruptly.]
[Pause.]
You find that funny? Are you grinning?
[Pause.]
[In disgust.] Good Christ, is that a grin on your face? [Further disgust.] It's lopsided. It's all-down on one side. You're grinning. It amuses you, does it? When I tell you how well I remember this room, how well I remember this den. [Muttering.] Ha. Yesterday now, it was clear, clearly defined, so clearly.
[Pause.]
The garden, too, was sharp, lucid, in the rain, in the sun.
[Pause.]
My den, too, was sharp, arranged for my purpose… quite satisfactory.
[Pause.]
The house too, was polished, all the banisters were polished, and the stair rods, and the curtain rods.
[Pause.]
My desk was polished, and my cabinet.
[Pause.]
I was polished. [Nostalgic] I could stand on the hill and look through my telescope at the sea. And follow the path of the three-masted schooner, feeling fit, well aware of my sinews, their suppleness, my arms lifted holding the telescope, steady, easily, no trembling, my aim was perfect, I could pour hot water down the spoon-hole, yes, easily, no difficulty, my grasp firm, my command established, my life was accounted for, I was ready for my excursions to the cliff, down the path to the back gate, through the long grass, no need to watch for the nettles, my progress was fluent, after my long struggling against all kinds of usurpers, disreputables, lists, literally lists of people anxious to do me down, and my reputation down, my command was established, all summer I would breakfast, survey my landscape, take my telescope, examine the overhanging of my hedges, pursue the narrow lane past the monastery, climb the hill, adjust the lens [he mimes a telescope], watch the progress of the three-masted schooner, my progress was as sure, as fluent…
Pause. He drops his arms.
Yes, yes, you're quite right, it is funny.
[Pause.]
Laugh your bloody head off! Go on. Don't mind me. No need to be polite.
[Pause.]
That's right.
[Pause.]
You're quite right, it is funny. I'll laugh with you!
He laughs.
Ha-ha-ha! Yes! You're laughing with me, I'm laughing with you, we're laughing together!
He laughs and stops.
[Brightly.] Why did I invite you into this room? That's your next question, isn't it? Bound to be.
[Pause.]
Well, why not, you might say? My oldest acquaintance. My nearest and dearest. My kith and kin. But surely correspondence would have been as satisfactory… more satisfactory? We could have exchanged postcards, couldn't we? What? Views, couldn't we? Of sea and land, city and village, town and country, autumn and winter… clocktowers… museums… citadels… bridges… rivers…
[Pause.]
Seeing you stand, at the back gate, such close proximity, was not at all the same thing.
[Pause.]
What are you doing? You're taking off your balaclava… you've decided not to. No, very well then, all things considered, did I then invite you into this room with express intention of asking you to take off your balaclava, in order to determine your resemblance to-some other person? The answer is no, certainly not, I did not, for when I first saw you you wore no balaclava. No headcovering of any kind, in fact. You looked quite different without a head-I mean without a hat-I mean without a headcovering, of any kind. In fact every time I have seen you you have looked quite different to the time before.
[Pause.]
Even now you look different. Very different.
[Pause.]
Admitted that sometimes I viewed you through dark glasses, yes, and sometimes through light glasses, and on other occasions bare eyed, and on other occasions through the bars of the scullery window, or from the roof, the roof, yes in driving snow, or from the bottom of the drive in thick fog, or from the roof again in blinding sun, so blinding, so hot, that I had to skip and jump and bounce in order to remain in one place. Ah, that's good for a guffaw, is it? That's good for a belly laugh? Go on, then. Let it out. Let yourself go, for God's… [He catches his breath.] You're crying…
[Pause.]
[Moved.] You haven't been laughing. You're crying.
[Pause.]
You're weeping. You're shaking with grief. For me. I can't believe it. For my plight. I've been wrong.
[Pause.]
[Briskly.] Come, come, stop it. Be a man. Blow your nose for goodness sake. Pull yourself together.
He sneezes.
Ah.
He rises. Sneeze.
Ah. Fever. Excuse me.
He blows his nose.
I've caught a cold. A germ. In my eyes. It was this morning. In my eyes. My eyes.
Pause. He falls to the floor.
Not that I had any difficulty in seeing you, no, no, it was not so much my sight, my sight is excellent-in winter I run about with nothing on but a pair of polo shorts-no, it was not so much any deficiency in my sight as the airs between me and my object-don't weep-the change of air, the currents obtaining in the space between me and my object, the shades they make, the shapes they take, the quivering, the eternal quivering-please stop crying-nothing to do with heat-haze. Sometimes, of course, I would take shelter, shelter to compose myself. Yes, I would seek a tree, a cranny of bushes, erect my canopy and so make shelter. And rest. [Low murmur.] And then I no longer heard the wind or saw the sun. Nothing entered, nothing left my nook. I lay on my side in my polo shorts, my fingers lightly in contact with the blades of grass, the earthflowers, the petals of the earthflowers flaking, lying on my palm, the underside of all the great foliage dark, above me, but it is only afterwards I say the foliage was dark, the petals flaking, then I said nothing, I remarked nothing, things happened upon me, then in my times of shelter, the shades, the petals, carried themselves, carried their bodies upon me, and nothing entered my nook, nothing left it.
[Pause.]
But then, the time came. I saw the wind. I saw the wind, swirling, and the dust at my back gate, lifting, and the long grass, scything together… [Slowly, in horror.] You are laughing. You're laughing. Your face. Your body. [Overwhelming nausea and horror.] Rocking… gasping… rocking… shaking… rocking… heaving… rocking… You're laughing at me! Aaaaahhhh!
The MATCHSELLER rises. Silence.
You look younger. You look extraordinarily… youthful.
[Pause.]
You want to examine the garden? It must be very bright, in the moonlight. [Becoming weaker.] I would like to join you… explain… show you… the garden… explain… The plants… where I run… my track… in training… I was number one sprinter at Howells… when a stripling… no more than a stripling… licked… men twice my strength… when a stripling… like yourself.
[Pause.]
[Flatly.] The pool must be glistening. In the moonlight. And the lawn. I remember it well. The cliff. The sea. The three-masted schooner.
[Pause.]
[With great, final effort-a whisper.] Who are you?
FLORA [off]: Barnabas?
[Pause.]
She enters.
Ah, Barnabas. Everything is ready.
[Pause.]
I want to show you my garden, your garden. You must see my japonica, my convolvulus… my honeysuckle, my clematis.
[Pause.]
The summer is coming. I've put up your canopy for you. You can lunch in the garden, by the pool. I've polished the whole house for you.
[Pause.]
Take my hand.
Pause. The MATCHSELLER goes over to her.
Yes. Oh, wait a moment.
[Pause.]
Edward. Here is your tray.
She crosses to EDWARD with the tray of matches, and puts it in his hands. Then she and the MATCHSELLER start to go out as the curtain falls slowly.
