Complete Works, Volume I (21 page)

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? Curacao 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.