Читать книгу Play With a Tiger and Other Plays - Doris Lessing - Страница 8

The action of this play takes place in ANNA FREEMAN’S room on the first floor of MARY JACKSON’S house, on a street in London with heavy traffic. ANNA has lived here for some years. There is another room, behind this one, used by her son, now at school; but ANNA sleeps and lives in this room. It is very large and looks formal because it is underfurnished. There are double doors at left-back. When they are open the landing can be seen, and part of the stairway leading up. The house was originally built for rich people and still shows signs of it. The landing and stairs are spacious and carpeted in dark red; the banisters are elegant and painted white. The upper part of the doors are of glass, and therefore the doorway has a dark red curtain, usually drawn back. The room is painted white, walls and ceilings. There is a low wide divan, covered in rough black material, in the right back corner; a window, with dark red curtains, in the right wall; a large, round, ornate mirror, on the left wall; a low shelf of books under the window. The floor is painted black and has in the centre of it a round crimson carpet. There are two stiff-looking chairs on either side of the mirror, of dark wood, and seated in dark red. The life of the room is concentrated around the divan. A low table by its head has a telephone, and is loaded with books and papers, and a small reading light. At the foot of the divan is another low table, with a typewriter, at which ANNA works by kneeling, or squatting, on the divan. This table has another reading light, and a record player. Around the divan is a surf of books, magazines, newspapers, records, cushions. There is a built-in cupboard, hardly noticeable until opened, in the right wall. Two paraffin heaters, of the cheap black cylindrical kind, are both lit. It is winter. The year is 1958. At the opening of the play the time is about nine in the evening, at its close it is four in the morning.

[ANNA is standing at the window, which is open at the top, her back to the room. She is wearing slacks and a sweater: these are pretty, even fashionable; the reason for the trousers is that it is hard to play Act II in a skirt.]

[TOM is standing behind ANNA, waiting, extremely exasperated. This scene between them has been going on for some time. They are both tense, irritated, miserable.]

[TOM’S sarcasm and pomposity are his way of protecting himself from his hurt at how he has been treated.]

[ANNA’S apparent casualness is how she wards off a hysteria that is only just under control. She is guilty about TOM, unhappy about DAVE – and this tension in her underlies everything she says or does until that moment towards the end of Act One when DAVE, because of his moral ascendancy over her, forces her to relax and smile.]

[A moment’s silence. Then a scream and a roar of traffic, which sounds as if it is almost in the room. TOM loses patience, goes past ANNA to window, slams it shut, loudly.]

TOM: Now say: ‘I could repeat every word you’ve said.’

ANNA [in quotes]: I’ve scarcely seen you during the last two weeks. You always have some excuse. Mary answers the telephone and says you are out. I was under the impression we were going to be married. If I’m wrong please correct me. I simply cannot account for the change in your attitude … how’s that?

[TOM looks at her, gives her a small sardonic bow, goes past her to a chair which is set so he is facing half away from her. He sits in it in a pose which he has clearly been occupying previously – for ANNA looks at him, equally sardonic. Since the chair is hard and upright, not designed for comfort, he is almost lying in a straight line from his crossed ankles to his chin, which is upturned because he is looking with weary patience at the ceiling. His fingertips are held lightly together.]

[ANNA, having registered the fact that his pose is designed to annoy, goes back to the window and stands looking down.]

ANNA: That man is still down there. Do you know, he comes every night and just stands there, hour after hour after hour. And it’s so cold.

TOM: Yes, it is … Anna, I was under the impression that my attraction for you, such as it is, of course, was that I’m rather more reliable, more responsible? than the usual run of your friends?

ANNA: Do you realize that man hasn’t so much as moved a muscle since he arrived at six? There he stands, gazing up at that window. And the top half of that house is a brothel. He must have seen one of the girls in the street and fallen in love. Imagine it, I’ve been living here all these years and I never knew that house was a brothel. There are four Lesbians living together, and that poor sap’s in love with one of them. Well, isn’t it frightening?

TOM: When you walked into my flat that evening – if I may remind you of it – you said you were in search of a nice solid shoulder to weep on. You said you couldn’t stand another minute of living like this. Well?

ANNA: I asked the policeman at the corner. Why yes, miss, he said, all fatherly and protective, they’ve been there for years and years. But don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing, we have our eyes on them all the time.

TOM: I suppose what all this amounts to is that your fascinating American is around again.

ANNA: I told you, no. I haven’t seen Dave for weeks. Perhaps I should go down and tell that poor moonstruck idiot – look, you poor sap, all you’ve got to do is to go upstairs with fifty shillings in your hand and your goddess is yours?

TOM: And while you’re about it, you could take him off for a nice cup of tea, listen to his troubles and tell him yours.

ANNA: Yes I could. Why not?

TOM: You’re going to go on like this I suppose until the next time. Dave or some similarly fascinating character plays you up and you decide that good old Tom will do for a month or so?

ANNA: Tom, it’s nine-fifteen. You’re expected at the Jeffries at nine-thirty.

TOM: I did accept for you too.

ANNA: Yes you did, and you didn’t even ask me first.

TOM: I see.

ANNA: No, you don’t see. Tom, until two weeks ago you said you couldn’t stand either of the Jeffries, you said, quote, they were boring, phoney and stupid. But now he’s going to be your boss it’s different?

TOM: No, they’re still boring, phoney and stupid, but he is going to be my boss.

ANNA: You said if you took Jeffries’ job, you’d be in the rat-race, stuck in the rut, and bound hand and foot to the grindstone.

TOM: I finally took that job because we were going to be married – so I thought.

ANNA: But now we’re not going to be married you’ll turn down the job? [as he does not reply] I thought not. So don’t use me to justify yourself.

TOM: You really do rub things in, Anna. All right then. For a number of years I’ve been seeing myself as a sort of a rolling stone, a fascinating free-lance, a man of infinite possibilities. It turns out that I’m just another good middle-class citizen after all – I’m comfort-loving, conventionally unconventional, I’m not even the Don Juan I thought I was. It turns out that I’m everything I dislike most. I owe this salutary discovery to you, Anna. Thank you very much.

ANNA: Oh, not at all.

TOM [he now gets up from the chair, and faces her, attacking hard]: Oh my God, you stupid little romantic. Yes, that’s what you are, and a prig into the bargain. Very pleased with yourself because you won’t soil your hands. Writing a little review here, a little article there, an odd poem or two, a reflection on the aspect of a sidelight on the back-wash of some bloody movement or other – reading tuppenny-halfpenny novels for publishers’ Mr Bloody Black’s new book is or is not an advance on his last. Well, Anna, is it really worth it?

ANNA: Yes it is. I’m free to live as I like. You won’t be, ever again.

TOM: And worrying all the time how you’re going to find the money for what your kid wants. Do you think he’s going to thank you for living like this?

ANNA: That’s right. Always stick the knife in, as hard as you can, into a person’s weakest spot.

TOM: An art you are not exactly a stranger to? You live here, hand to mouth, never knowing what’s going to happen next, surrounding yourself with bums and neurotics and failures. As far as you’re concerned anyone who has succeeded at anything at all is corrupt. [She says nothing.] Nothing to say, Anna? That’s not like you.

ANNA: I was thinking, not for the first time, unfortunately, how sad it is that the exquisite understanding and intimacy of the bed doesn’t last into the cold light of day.

TOM: So that’s all we had in common. Thank you Anna, you’ve now defined me.

ANNA: All right, all right, all right. I’m sorry. What else can I say – I’m sorry.

[There is a knock on the door.]

ANNA: Come in.

TOM: Oh my God, Mary.

MARY [outside the door]: Pussy, pussy, pussy.

[A knock on the door.]

ANNA: Come in.

TOM: She’s getting very deaf, isn’t she?

ANNA: She doesn’t know it. [as the door opens] For the Lord’s sake don’t say … [she imitates him] … I was under the impression we had said come in, if I’m wrong please correct me.

TOM: Just because you’ve decided to give me the boot, there’s no need to knock me down and start jumping on me.

[MARY comes in, backwards, shutting the door to keep the cat out.]

MARY: No pussy, you stay there. Anna doesn’t really like you, although she pretends she does. [to ANNA] That cat is more like a dog, really, he comes when I call. And he waits for me outside a door. [peeping around the edge of the door] No, puss, wait. I won’t be a minute. [to ANNA] I don’t know why I bothered to christen that cat Methuselah, it never gets called anything but puss. [sprightly with an exaggerated sigh] Really, I’m getting quite an old maid, fussing over a cat … If you can call a widow with a grown up son an old maid, but who’d have believed I’d have come to fussing over a cat. [seeing TOM] Oh, I didn’t know you were here.

TOM: Didn’t you see me? I said hullo.

MARY: Sometimes I think I’m getting a bit deaf. Well, what a surprise. You’re quite a stranger, aren’t you?

TOM: Hardly a stranger, I should have said.

MARY: Dropped in for old times’ sake [TOM is annoyed. MARY says to ANNA] I thought we might go out to the pub. I’m sick of sitting and brooding. [as ANNA does not respond – quick and defensive] Oh I see, you and Tom are going out, two’s company and three’s none.

ANNA: Tom’s going to the Jeffries.

MARY [derisive]: Not the Jeffries – you must be hard up for somewhere to go.

ANNA: And I think I’ll stay and work.

TOM: Anna is too good for the Jeffries.

MARY: Who isn’t?

[ANNA has gone back to the window, is looking down into the street.]

TOM [angrily]: Perhaps you’d like to come with me, since Anna won’t.

MARY [half aggressive, half coy]: You and me going out together – that’d be a change. Oh, I see, you’re joking. [genuinely] Besides, they really are so awful.

TOM: Better than going to the pub with Methuselah, perhaps?

MARY: [with spirit]: No, I prefer Methuselah. You don’t want to bore yourself at the Jeffries. Stay and have some coffee with us.

ANNA [her back still turned]: It’s the Royal Command.

MARY: Oh. You mean you’ve taken that job after all? I told Anna you would, months ago. There, Anna, I told you he would. Anna said when it actually came to the point, you’d never bring yourself to do it.

TOM: I like the idea of you and Anna laying bets as to whether the forces of good or evil would claim my soul.

MARY: Well, I mean, that’s what it amounts to, doesn’t it? But I always said Anna was wrong about you. Didn’t I, Anna? Anna always does this. [awkwardly] I mean, it’s not the first time, I mean to say. And I’ve always been right. Ah, well, as Anna says, don’t you, Anna, if a man marries, he marries a woman, but if a woman marries, she marries a way of life.

TOM: Strange, but as it happens I too have been the lucky recipient of that little aphorism.

MARY: Well, you were bound to be, weren’t you? [she sees TOM is furious and stops] Harry telephoned you, Anna.

ANNA: What for?

MARY: Well, I suppose now you’re free he thinks he’ll have another try.

TOM: May I ask – how did he know Anna was free? After all, I didn’t.

MARY: Oh, don’t be silly. I mean, you and Anna might not have known, but it was quite obvious to everyone else … well, I met Harry in the street some days ago, and he said …

TOM: I see.

MARY: Well, there’s no need to be so stuffy about it Tom –

[A bell rings downstairs.]

MARY: Was that the bell? Are you expecting someone, Anna?

TOM: Of course she’s expecting someone.

ANNA: No.

MARY [who hasn’t heard]: Who are you expecting?

ANNA: Nobody.

MARY: Well, I’ll go for you, I have to go down anyway. Are you in or out, Anna?

ANNA: I’m out.

MARY: It’s often difficult to say, whether you are in or out, because after all, one never knows who it might be.

ANNA [patiently]: Mary, I really don’t mind answering my bell you know.

MARY [hastily going to the door]: Sometimes I’m running up and down the stairs half the day, answering Anna’s bell. [as she goes out and shuts the door] Pussy, pussy, where are you puss, puss, puss.

TOM: She’s deteriorating fast, isn’t she? [ANNA patiently says nothing] That’s what you’re going to be like in ten years’ time if you’re not careful.

ANNA: I’d rather be like Mary in ten years’ time than what you’re going to be like when you’re all settled down and respectable.

TOM: A self-pitying old bore.

ANNA: She is also a kind warm-hearted woman with endless time for people in trouble … Tom, you’re late, the boss waits, and you can’t afford to offend him.

TOM: I remember Mary, and not so long ago either – she was quite a dish, wasn’t she? If I were you I’d be scared stiff.

ANNA: Sometimes I am scared stiff. [seriously] Tom, her son’s getting married next week.

TOM: Oh, so that’s it.

ANNA: No, that’s not it. She’s very pleased he’s getting married.

And she’s given them half the money she’s saved – not that there’s much of it. You surely must see it’s going to make quite a difference to her, her son getting married?

TOM: Well he was bound to get married some time.

ANNA: Yes he was bound to get married, time marches on, every dog must have its day, one generation makes way for another, today’s kittens are tomorrow’s cats, life’s like that.

TOM: I don’t know why it is, most people think I’m quite a harmless sort of man. After ten minutes with you I feel I ought to crawl into the nearest worm-hole and die.

ANNA: We’re just conforming to the well-known rule that when an affair ends, the amount of violence and unpleasantness is in direct ratio to its heat.

[Loud laughter and voices outside – HARRY and MARY.]

TOM: I thought you said you were out. Mary really is quite impossible.

ANNA: It’s Harry who’s impossible. He always takes it for granted one doesn’t mean him.

TOM [angry]: And perhaps one doesn’t.

ANNA: Perhaps one doesn’t.

TOM: Anna! Do let’s try and be a bit more …

ANNA: Civilized? Is that the word you’re looking for?

[HARRY and MARY come in.]

HARRY [as he kisses ANNA]: Civilized, she says. There’s our Anna. I knew I’d come in and she’d be saying civilized. [coolly, to TOM] Oh, hullo.

TOM [coolly]: Well, Harry.

MARY [who has been flirted by HARRY into an over-responsive state]:

Oh, Harry, you are funny sometimes. [she laughs] It’s not what you say, when you come to think of it, it’s the way you say it.

HARRY: Surely, it’s what I say as well?

ANNA: Harry, I’m not in. I told Mary, I don’t want to see anybody.

HARRY: Don’t be silly, darling, of course you do. You don’t want to see anybody, but you want to see me.

TOM [huffy]: Anna and I were talking.

HARRY: Of course you are, you clots. And it’s high time you stopped. Look at you both. And now we should all have a drink.

TOM: Oh damn. You and Mary go and have a drink.

HARRY: That’s not the way at all. Anna will come to the pub with me and weep on my shoulder, and Tom will stay and weep on Mary’s.

TOM [rallying into his smooth sarcasm]: Harry, I yield to no one in my admiration of your tact but I really must say …

HARRY: Don’t be silly. I got a clear picture from Mary here, of you and Anna, snarling and snapping on the verge of tears – it doesn’t do at all. When a thing’s finished it’s finished. I know, for my sins I’m an expert.

TOM: Forgive me if I make an over-obvious point, but this really isn’t one of the delightful little affairs you specialize in.

HARRY: Of course it was. You two really aren’t in a position to judge. Now if you weren’t Tom and Anna, you’d take one look at yourselves and laugh your heads off at the idea of your getting married.

ANNA [she goes to the window and looks down]: Harry, come and see me next week and I’ll probably laugh my head off.

HARRY: Next week’s no good at all. You won’t need me then, you’ll have recovered.

TOM [immensely sarcastic]: Surely, Harry, if Anna asks you to leave her flat, the least you can do is to … [ANNA suddenly giggles.]

HARRY: There, you see? How could you possibly marry such a pompous idiot, Anna. [to TOM, affectionately] Anna can’t possibly marry such an idiot, Tom. Anna doesn’t like well-ordered citizens, like you, anyway.

MARY: I don’t know how you can say well-ordered. He was just another lame duck until now.

HARRY: But he’s not a lame duck any more. He’s going to work for Jeffries, and he’ll be administering to the spiritual needs of the women of the nation through the ‘Ladies Own.’

TOM: I’m only going to be on the business side. I won’t be responsible for the rubbish they – [He stops, annoyed with himself. HARRY and MARY laugh at him.]

HARRY: There you are, he’s a solid respectable citizen already.

TOM [to HARRY]: It’s not any worse than the rag you work for is it?

HARRY [reacts to TOM with a grimace that says touché! and turns to ANNA]: When are you going to get some comfortable furniture into this room?

ANNA [irritated almost to tears]: Oh sit on the floor, go away, stop nagging.

HARRY: Don’t be so touchy. The point I’m trying to make is, Tom’d never put up with a woman like you, he’s going to have a house with every modern convenience and everything just so … Anna, what’ve you done with Dave?

ANNA: I haven’t seen him for weeks.

HARRY: That’s silly, isn’t it now?

ANNA: No.

HARRY: Now I’m going to give you a lot of good advice, Anna and …

TOM: Fascinating, isn’t it? Harry giving people advice.

MARY: Harry may not know how to get his own life into order, but actually he’s rather good at other people’s.

HARRY: What do you mean, my life is in perfect order.

TOM: Indeed? May I ask how your wife is?

HARRY [in a much used formula]: Helen is wonderful, delightful, she is very happy and she loves me dearly.

TOM [with a sneer]: How nice.

HARRY: Yes, it is. And that’s what I’m going to explain to you, Anna. Look at Helen. She’s like you, she likes interesting weak men like me, and …

TOM: Weak is not the word I’d have chosen, I must say.

MARY: Surely not weak, Harry?

ANNA: Weak is new, Harry. Since when, weak?

HARRY: I’ll explain. It came to me in a flash, one night when I was driving home very late – it was dawn, to be precise, you see, weak men like me …

ANNA [suddenly serious]: Harry, I’m not in the mood.

HARRY: Of course you are. We are always in the mood to talk about ourselves. I’m talking about you, Anna. You’re like Helen. Now what does Helen say? She says, she doesn’t mind who I have affairs with provided they are women she’d like herself.

TOM: Charming.

MARY: But Harry, Helen’s got to say something … well, I mean to say.

ANNA: I simply can’t stand your damned alibis.

HARRY: Tom must have been bad for you, Anna, if you’re going to get all pompous. Helen and I …

ANNA [snapping]: Harry, you forget I know Helen very well.

HARRY [not realizing her mood]: Of course you do. And so do I. And you ought to take on Dave the way Helen’s taken me on …

ANNA: Harry, go away.

HARRY [still blithe]: No, Anna. I’ve been thinking. You’ve got to marry Dave. He needs you.

[MARY makes a warning gesture at HARRY, indicating ANNA.]

[to MARY] Don’t be silly, darling. [to ANNA again] Helen knows I’ll always come back to her. Anna, Dave needs you. Have a heart. What’ll Dave do?

ANNA [snapping into hysterical resentment]: I’ll tell you what he’ll do. He’ll do what you did. You married Helen who was very much in love with you. When she had turned into just another boring housewife and mother you began philandering. She had no alternative but to stay put.

HARRY: Anna, Anna, Anna!

ANNA: Oh shut up. I know Helen, I know exactly what sort of hell she’s had with you.

HARRY: Tom, you really have been bad for Anna, you’ve made her all bitchy.

ANNA: Dave will marry some girl who’s in love with him. Oh, he’ll fight every inch of the way, of course. Then there’ll be children and he’ll be free to do as he likes. He’ll have a succession of girls, and in between each one he’ll go back and weep on his wife’s shoulder because of his unfortunately weak character. Weak like hell. She’ll forgive him all right. He’ll even use her compliance as an additional attraction for the little girls, just as you do. My wife understands me, he’ll say, with a sloppy look on his face. She knows what I’m like. She’ll always be there to take me back. God almighty, what a man.

HARRY: Anna, you little bitch.

ANNA: That’s right. But there’s just one thing, Dave shouldn’t have picked on me. I’m economically independent. I have no urge for security so I don’t have to sell myself out. And I have a child already, so there’s no way of making me helpless, is there, dear weak, helpless Harry?

HARRY: Mary, you should have told me Anna was in such a bitchy mood and I wouldn’t have come up.

MARY: But I did tell you, and you said, ‘Well Anna won’t be bitchy with me.’

[The door bell, downstairs.]

MARY: I’ll go.

ANNA: Mary, I’m out.

MARY: Well don’t blame me for Harry, he insisted. [as she goes out] Pussy, pussy, puss, puss.

HARRY: I can’t think what Mary would do if Anna did get married.

TOM [spitefully]: They are rather like an old married couple, aren’t they?

[ANNA pulls down the window with a crash and turns her back on them.]

HARRY: But so nice to drop in on for aid and comfort when in trouble. [to ANNA’S back] Anna, I’m in trouble.

ANNA: Don’t worry, you’ll be in love with someone else in a few weeks.

HARRY [humorous but serious]: But I won’t. This girl, my poppet, she’s getting married. [as ANNA shrugs] For God’s sake woman, shut the window, it’s freezing. [ANNA shuts it, but remains looking down.] She met some swine at a party – actually he’s very nice. A handsome young swine – he really is nice. She’s marrying him – actually, I advised her to. Anna!

ANNA: Did you expect her to hang round for the rest of her life in a state of single blessedness because you didn’t want to break up your happy home with Helen? [she turns, sees his face, which is genuinely miserable] Oh all right. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. [She puts her arms around him.]

HARRY: There’s my Anna. [to TOM] I’m sure you’ve never seen this side of her, but she is a sweet girl, at heart.

TOM: Well, now you’ve gained your little need of sympathy from Anna, perhaps I may be permitted to say a word or two?

HARRY: No. You two should just kiss and say goodbye and stop tormenting each other.

TOM: Anna I know that what goes on in the street is a hundred times more interesting than I am, but …

HARRY: Of course it is, she’s waiting for Dave.

ANNA: I’m not waiting for Dave.

[She comes away from the window. Sits on the bed, her head in her hands.]

TOM: I want to talk to Anna.

MARY [from downstairs]: Puss, puss, puss, puss.

TOM [mocking her]: Puss, puss, puss, puss.

HARRY: Mary should get married. Anna, you should make Mary get married before it’s too late.

TOM: Before it’s too late!

ANNA: Mary could marry if she wanted.

TOM [derisively]: Then why doesn’t she?

ANNA: Strange as it might seem to you, she doesn’t want to get married just for the sake of getting married.

HARRY: Yes, but that’s all very well, Anna. It’s all right for you – you’re such a self-contained little thing. But not for Mary. You should get her married regardless to the first clot who comes along.

ANNA: I – self-contained!

TOM: Yes, it’s true – self-contained!

MARY [from downstairs]: Pussy, pussy, yes come here, puss, puss, puss, puss.

TOM [to HARRY]: She’s getting worse. [as ANNA stiffens up] Yes, all right, Anna, but it’s true. [to HARRY] She’s man-crazy …

HARRY: Oh you silly ass.

TOM: Well she is. She’s crazy for a man, wide open, if you so much as smile at her, she responds. And Anna says she doesn’t want to marry. Who are you fooling, Anna?

ANNA [sweetly]: Perhaps she prefers to be sex-starved than to marry an idiot. Which is more than can be said about most men.

HARRY: Now Anna, don’t start, Anna, Tom’s a nice man, but he’s pompous. [to TOM] You’re a pompous ass, admit it, Tom.

TOM: All I said was, Mary’s man-crazy.

ANNA [on the warpath]: Do you know how Tom was living before he started with me?

HARRY: Yes, of course. Anna, don’t make speeches at us!

TOM: Well, how was I living before I started with you?

HARRY: Oh, my God.

ANNA: What is known as a bachelor’s life – Tom’s own nice inimitable version of it. He sat in his nice little flat, and round about ten at night, if he felt woman-crazy enough, he rang up one of three girls, all of whom were in love with him.

HARRY: Christ knows why.

ANNA: Imagine it, the telephone call at bedtime – are you free tonight, Elspeth, Penelope, Jessica? One of them came over, a drink or a cup of coffee, a couple of hours of bed, and then a radio-taxi home.

HARRY: Anna!

ANNA: Oh from time to time he explained to them that they mustn’t think his kind attentions to them meant anything.

HARRY: Anna, you’re a bore when you get like this.

TOM: Yes, you are.

ANNA: Then don’t call Mary names.

[MARY comes in.]

MARY [suspicious]: You were talking about me?

ANNA: No, about me.

MARY: Oh I thought it was about me. [to ANNA] There’s a girl wants to see you. She says it’s important. She wouldn’t give her name.

ANNA [she is thinking]: I see.

MARY: But she’s an American girl. It’s the wrong time of the year – summer’s for Americans.

ANNA: An American girl.

MARY: One of those nice bright neat clean American girls, how they do it, I don’t know, all I know is that you can tell from a hundred yards off they’d rather be seen dead than with their legs or their armpits unshaved, ever so antiseptic, she looked rather sweet really.

HARRY: Tell her to go away and we’ll all wait for you. Come on, Tom.

TOM: I’m staying.

HARRY: Come on, Mary, give me a nice cup of coffee.

MARY: It’s a long time since you and I had a good gossip.

[HARRY and MARY go out, arm in arm.]

TOM: Well, who is she?

ANNA: I don’t know.

TOM: I don’t believe you.

ANNA: You never do.

[MARY’S voice, and the voice of an American girl, outside on the stairs.]

[JANET STEVENS comes in. She is a neat attractive girl of about 22. She is desperately anxious and trying to hide it.]

JANET: Are you Anna Freeman?

ANNA: Yes. And this is Tom Lattimer.

JANET: I am Janet Stevens. [she has expected ANNA to know the name] Janet Stevens.

ANNA: How do you do?

JANET: Janet Stevens from Philadelphia. [as ANNA still does not react] I hope you will excuse me for calling on you like this.

ANNA: Not at all.

[JANET looks at TOM. ANNA looks at TOM. TOM goes to the window, turns his back.]

JANET [still disbelieving ANNA]: I thought you would know my name.

ANNA: No.

TOM: But she has been expecting you all afternoon.

JANET [at sea]: All afternoon?

ANNA [angry]: No, it’s not true.

JANET: I don’t understand, you were expecting me this afternoon?

ANNA: No. But may I ask, how you know me?

JANET: Well, we have a friend in common. Dave Miller.

TOM [turning, furious]: You could have said so, couldn’t you, Anna?

ANNA: But I didn’t know.

TOM: You didn’t know. Well I’m going. You’ve behaved disgracefully.

ANNA: Very likely. However just regard me as an unfortunate lapse from the straight and narrow on your journey to respectability.

[TOM goes out, slamming the door.]

ANNA [politely]: That was my – fiancé.

JANET: Oh, Dave didn’t say you were engaged.

ANNA: He didn’t know. And besides, I’m not ‘engaged’ any longer.

[A silence. ANNA looks with enquiry at JANET, who tries to speak and fails.]

ANNA: Please sit down, Miss Stevens.

[JANET looks around for somewhere to sit, sits on a chair, smiles socially. Being a well brought up young lady, and in a situation she does not understand, she is using her good manners as a last-ditch defence against breaking down.]

[ANNA looks at her, waiting.]

JANET: It’s this way, you see Dave and I … [At ANNA’S ironical look she stops.] … What a pretty room, I do so love these old English houses, they have such …

[ANNA looks at her: do get a move on.]

JANET: My father gave me a vacation in Europe for passing my college examinations. Yes, even when I was a little girl he used to promise me – if you do well at college I’ll give you a vacation in Europe. Well, I’ve seen France and Italy now, but I really feel most at home in England than anywhere. I do love England. Of course our family was English, way back of course, and I feel that roots are important, don’t you?

ANNA: Miss Stevens, what did you come to see me for?

JANET: Dave always says he thinks women should have careers. I suppose that’s why he admires you so much. Though of course, you do wear well. But I say to him, Dave, if you work at marriage then it is a career … sometimes he makes fun because I took domestic science and home care and child care as my subjects in college, but I say to him, Dave marriage is important, Dave, I believe that marriage and the family are the most rewarding career a woman can have, that’s why I took home care as my first subject because I believe a healthy and well-adjusted marriage is the basis for a healthy nation.

ANNA: You’re making me feel deficient in patriotism.

JANET: Oh, Dave said that too … [she almost breaks down, pulls herself together: fiercely] You’re patronizing me. I don’t think you should patronize me.

ANNA: Miss Stevens, do let’s stop this. Listen to me. I haven’t seen Dave for weeks. Is that what you came here to find out?

JANET: I know that you are such old friends. He talks about you a great deal.

ANNA: I’ve no doubt he does. [She waits for JANET to go on, then goes on herself.] There’s a hoary psychological joke – if I can use the word joke for a situation like this – about the way the betrayed women of the heartless libertine get together to lick their wounds – have you come here to make common cause with me over Dave? Because forgive me for saying so, but I don’t think you and I have anything in common but the fact we’ve both slept with Dave. And that is not enough for the basis of a beautiful friendship.

JANET: No! It wasn’t that at all, I came because … [she stops]

ANNA: I see. Then you’ve come because you’re pregnant. Well, how far have you got?

JANET: Five months.

ANNA: I see. And you haven’t told him.

ANNA: I knew if I told him he’d give me money and … well I love him. It would be good for him to have some responsibility wouldn’t it?

ANNA: I see.

JANET: Yes, I know how it looks, trapping a man. But when I was pregnant I was so happy, and only afterwards I thought – yes, I know how it looks, trapping a man, but he said he loved me, he said he loved me.

ANNA: But why come and tell me? [as JANET doesn’t answer] He’s ditched you, is that it?

JANET: No! Of course he hasn’t. [cracking] I haven’t seen him in days. I haven’t seen him. Where is he, you’ve got to tell me where he is. I’ve got to tell him about the baby.

ANNA: But I don’t know where he is.

JANET: You have to tell me. When he knows about the baby he’ll … [as ANNA shrugs] Ah come on now, who do you think you’re kidding? Well I’ve got his baby, you haven’t. You can’t do anything about that, can you. I’ve got his baby, I’ve got him.

ANNA: Very likely.

JANET: But what can I do? I want to be married. I’m just an ordinary girl and I want to be married, what’s wrong with that?

ANNA: There’s nothing wrong with that. But I haven’t seen Dave, and I don’t know where he is, and so there’s nothing I can do. [finally] And you shouldn’t have come to me.

[JANET goes out.]

ANNA [almost in tears]: Oh Christ. [stopping the tears, angrily] Damn. Damn.

[She goes to window. At once MARY comes in.]

MARY: Well who was she? [ANNA turns her back to hide her face from MARY.] Was she one of Dave’s girls? [ANNA nods. MARY moves so that she can see ANNA’S face.] Well, you knew there was one, didn’t you? [ANNA nods.] Well, then? [ANNA nods.]

ANNA: All right, Mary.

[MARY is in a jubilant mood. She has been flirting with HARRY. Now, seeing ANNA is apparently all right, she says what she came in to say.]

MARY: Harry and I are going out. There’s a place he knows we can get drinks. I told him you wouldn’t be interested. [The telephone starts ringing.] Aren’t you going to answer it? [as ANNA shakes her head] Odd, we’ve known each other all these years. He’s really sweet, Harry. You can say what you like, but it’s nice to have a man to talk to for a change – after all, how many men are there you can really talk to? [The telephone stops.] Anna, what are you in this state for?

ANNA: What I can’t stand is, the way he makes use of me. Do you know Mary, all this time he’s been letting her know I’m in the background?

MARY: Well you are, aren’t you?

ANNA: ‘But Janet, you must understand this doesn’t mean anything, because the woman I really love is Anna.’ He’s not even married to me, but he uses me as Harry uses Helen.

MARY: [not wanting to hear anything against HARRY at this moment] Oh I don’t know. After all, perhaps Helen doesn’t mind. They’ve been married so long.

ANNA: It really is remarkable how all Dave’s young ladies turn up here sooner or later. He talks about me – oh, quite casually, of course, until they go round the bend with frustration and curiosity, and they just have to come up to see what the enemy looks like. Well I can’t be such a bitch as all that, because I didn’t say, ‘My dear Miss Stevens, you’re the fifth to pay me a social call in three years.’

MARY: But you have been engaged to Tom.

ANNA: Yes. All right.

MARY: It’s funny, me and Harry knowing each other for so long and then suddenly …

ANNA: Mary! The mood Harry’s in somebody’s going to get hurt.

MARY: It’s better to get hurt than to live shut up.

ANNA: After losing that little poppet of his to matrimony he’ll be looking for solace.

MARY [offended]: Why don’t you concern yourself with Tom? Or with Dave? Harry’s not your affair. I’m just going out with him. [as she goes out] Nice to have a night out for a change, say what you like.

[The telephone rings. ANNA snatches off the receiver, wraps it in a blanket, throws it on the bed.

ANNA: I’m not talking to you, Dave Miller, you can rot first.

[She goes to the record player, puts on Mahalia Jackson’s ‘I’m on My Way’, goes to the mirror, looks into it. This is a long antagonistic look.]

ANNA [to her reflection]: All right then, I do wear well.

[She goes deliberately to a drawer, takes out a large piece of black cloth, unfolds it, drapes it over the mirror.]

ANNA [to the black cloth]: And a fat lot of good that does me.

[She now switches out the light. The room is tall, shadowy, with two patterns of light from the paraffin heaters reflected on the ceiling. She goes to the window, flings it up.]

ANNA [to the man on the pavement]: You poor fool, why don’t you go upstairs, the worst that can happen is that the door will be shut in your face.

[A knock on the door – a confident knock.]

ANNA: If you come in here, Dave Miller …

[DAVE comes in. He is crew cut, wears a sloppy sweater and jeans. Carries a small duffle bag. ANNA turns her back and looks out of the window. DAVE stops the record player. He puts the telephone receiver back on the rest. Turns on the light.]

DAVE: Why didn’t you answer the telephone?

ANNA: Because I have nothing to say.

DAVE [in a parody of an English upper-middle-class voice]: I see no point at all in discussing it.

ANNA [in the same voice]: I see no point at all in discussing it.

[DAVE stands beside ANNA at the window.]

DAVE [in the easy voice of their intimacy]: I’ve been in the telephone box around the corner ringing you.

ANNA: Did you see my visitor?

DAVE: No.

ANNA: What a pity.

DAVE: I’ve been standing in the telephone box ringing you and watching that poor bastard on the pavement.

ANNA: He’s there every night. He comes on his great black dangerous motor bike. He wears a black leather jacket and big black boots. He looks like an outrider for death in a Cocteau film – and he has the face of a frightened little boy.

DAVE: It’s lurve, it’s lurve, it’s lurve.

ANNA: It’s love.

[Now they stare at each other, antagonists, and neither gives way. DAVE suddenly grins and does a mocking little dance step. He stands grinning at her. ANNA hits him as hard as she can. He staggers. He goes to the other side of the carpet, where he sits cross-legged, his face in his hands.]

DAVE: Jesus, Anna.

ANNA [mocking]: Oh, quite so.

DAVE: You still love me, that’s something.

ANNA: It’s lurve, it’s lurve, it’s lurve.

DAVE: Yes. I had a friend once. He cheated on his wife, he came in and she laid his cheek open with the flat-iron.

ANNA [quoting him]: ‘That I can understand’ – a great country, America.

DAVE [in appeal]: Anna.

ANNA: No.

DAVE: I’ve been so lonely for you.

ANNA: Where have you been the last week?

DAVE [suspicious]: Why the last week?

ANNA: I’m interested.

DAVE: Why the last week? [a pause] Ringing you and getting no reply.

ANNA: Why ringing me?

DAVE: Who else? Anna, I will not be treated like this.

ANNA: Then, go away.

DAVE: We’ve been through this before. Can’t we get it over quickly?

ANNA: No.

DAVE: Come and sit down. And turn out the lights.

ANNA: No.

DAVE: I didn’t know it was as bad as that this time.

ANNA: How long did you think you could go on – you think you can make havoc as you like, and nothing to pay for it, ever?

DAVE: Pay? What for? You’ve got it all wrong, as usual.

ANNA: I’m not discussing it then.

DAVE: ‘I’m not discussing it.’ Well, I’m saying nothing to you while you’ve got your bloody middle-class English act on, it drives me mad.

ANNA: Middle-class English. I’m Australian.

DAVE: You’ve assimilated so well.

ANNA [in an Australian accent]: I’ll say it like this then – I’ll say it any way you like – I’m not discussing it. I’m discussing nothing with you when you’re in your role of tuppence a dozen street corner Romeo. [in English] It’s the same in any accent.

DAVE [getting up and doing his blithe dance step]: It’s the same in any accent. [sitting down again] Baby, you’ve got it wrong. [ANNA laughs.] I tell you, you’ve got it wrong, baby. ANNA [in American]: But baby, it doesn’t mean anything, let’s have a little fun together, baby, just you and me – just a little fun, baby … [in Australian] Ah, damn your guts, you stupid, irresponsible little … [in English] Baby, baby, baby – the anonymous baby. Every woman is baby, for fear you’d whisper the wrong name into the wrong ear in the dark.

DAVE: In the dark with you I use your name, Anna.

ANNA: You used my name.

DAVE: Ah, hell, man, well. Anna beat me up and be done with it and get it over. [a pause] OK, I know it. I don’t know what gets into me; OK I’m still a twelve-year-old slum kid standing on a street corner in Chicago, watching the expensive broads go by and wishing I had the dough to buy them all. OK, I know it. You know it. [a pause] OK and I’m an American God help me, and it’s no secret to the world that there’s bad man-woman trouble in America. [a pause] And everywhere else, if it comes to that. OK, I do my best. But how any man can be faithful to one woman beats me. OK, so one day I’ll grow up. Maybe.

ANNA: Maybe.

DAVE [switching to black aggression]: God, how I hate your smug female guts. All of you – there’s never anything free – everything to be paid for. Every time, an account rendered. Every time, when you’re swinging free there’s a moment when the check lies on the table – pay up, pay up, baby.

ANNA: Have you come here to get on to one of your anti-woman kicks?

DAVE: Well I’m not being any woman’s pet, and that’s what you all want. [leaping up and doing his mocking dance step] I’ve kept out of all the traps so far, and I’m going to keep out.

ANNA: So you’ve kept out of all the traps.

DAVE: That’s right. And I’m not going to stand for you either – mother of the world, the great womb, the eternal conscience. I like women, but I’m going to like them my way and not according to the rules laid down by the incorporated mothers of the universe.

ANNA: Stop it, stop it, stop boasting.

DAVE: But Anna, you’re as bad. There’s always a moment when you become a sort of flaming sword of retribution.

ANNA: At which moment – have you asked yourself? You and I are so close we know everything about each other – and then suddenly, out of the clear blue sky, you start telling me lies like – lies out of a corner-boy’s jest book. I can’t stand it.

DAVE [shouting at her]: Lies – I never tell you lies.

ANNA: Oh hell, Dave.

DAVE: Well you’re not going to be my conscience. I will not let you be my conscience.

ANNA: Amen and hear hear. But why do you make me your conscience?

DAVE [deflating]: I don’t know. [with grim humour] I’m an American. I’m in thrall to the great mother.

ANNA: Well I’m not an American.

DAVE [shouting]: No, but you’re a woman, and at bottom you’re the same as the whole lousy lot of…

ANNA: Get out of here then. Get out.

DAVE [he sits cross-legged, on the edge of the carpet, his head in his hands]: Jesus.

ANNA: You’re feeling guilty so you beat me up. I won’t let you.

DAVE: Come here.

[ANNA goes to him, kneels opposite him, lays her two hands on his diaphragm.]

Yes, like that. [he suddenly relaxes, head back, eyes closed] Anna, when I’m away from you I’m cut off from something – I don’t know what it is. When you put your hands on me, I begin to breathe.

ANNA: Oh. [She lets her hands drop and stands up.]

DAVE: Where are you going?

[ANNA goes back to the window. A silence. A wolf-whistle from the street. Another.]

ANNA: He’s broken his silence. He’s calling her. Deep calls to deep.

[Another whistle. ANNA winces.]

DAVE: You’ve missed me?

ANNA: All the time.

DAVE: What have you been doing?

ANNA: Working a little.

DAVE: What else?

ANNA: I said I’d marry Tom, then I said I wouldn’t.

DAVE [dismissing it]: I should think not.

ANNA [furious]: O-h-h-h.

DAVE: Seriously, what?

ANNA: I’ve been coping with Mary – her son’s marrying.

DAVE [heartily]: Good for him. Well, it’s about time.

ANNA: Oh quite so.

DAVE [mimicking her]: Oh quite so.

ANNA [dead angry]: I’ve also spent hours of every day with Helen, Harry’s ever-loving wife.

DAVE: Harry’s my favourite person in London.

ANNA: And you are his. Strange, isn’t it?

DAVE: We understand each other.

ANNA: And Helen and I understand each other.

DAVE [hastily]: Now, Anna.

ANNA: Helen’s cracking up. Do you know what Harry did? He came to her, because he knew this girl of his was thinking of getting married, and he said: Helen, you know I love you, but I can’t live without her. He suggested they should all live together in the same house – he, Helen and his girl. Regularizing things, he called it.

DAVE [deliberately provocative]: Yeah? Sounds very attractive to me.

ANNA: Yes, I thought it might. Helen said to him – who’s going to share your bed? Harry said, well, obviously they couldn’t all sleep in the same bed, but…

DAVE: Anna, stop it.

ANNA: Helen said it was just possible that the children might be upset by the arrangement.

DAVE: I was waiting for that – the trump card – you can’t do that, it might upset the kiddies. Well not for me, I’m out.

ANNA [laughing]: Oh are you?

DAVE: Yes. [ANNA laughs.] Have you finished?

ANNA: No. Harry and Helen. Helen said she was going to leave him. Harry said: ‘But darling, you’re too old to get another man now and …’

DAVE [mocking]: Women always have to pay – and may it long remain that way.

ANNA: Admittedly there’s one advantage to men like you and Harry. You are honest.

DAVE: Anna, listen, whenever I cheat on you it takes you about two weeks to settle into a good temper again. Couldn’t we just speed it up and get it over with?

ANNA: Get it over with. [she laughs]

DAVE: The laugh is new. What’s so funny?

[A wolf-whistle from the street. Then a sound like a wolf howling. ANNA slams the window up.]

DAVE: Open that window.

ANNA: No, I can’t stand it.

DAVE: Anna, I will not have you shutting yourself up. I won’t have you spitting out venom and getting all bitter and vengeful. Open that window.

[ANNA opens it. Stands by it, passive.]

Come and sit down. And turn the lights out.

[As she does not move, he turns out the light. The room as before: two patterned circles of light on the ceiling from the paraffin lamps.]

ANNA: Dave, it’s no point starting all over again.

DAVE: But baby, you and I will always be together, one way or another.

ANNA: You’re crazy.

DAVE: In a good cause. [he sits cross-legged on the edge of the carpet and waits] Come and sit. [ANNA slowly sits, opposite him. He smiles at her. She slowly smiles back. As she smiles, the walls fade out. They are two small people in the city, the big, ugly, baleful city all around them, over-shadowing them.]

DAVE: There baby, that’s better.

ANNA: OK.

DAVE: I don’t care what you do – you can crack up if you like, or you can turn Lesbian. You can take to drink. You can even get married. But I won’t have you shutting yourself up.

[A lorry roars. A long wolf-whistle. Shrill female voices from the street.]

ANNA: Those girls opposite quarrel. I hate it. Last night they were rolling in the street and pulling each other’s hair and screaming.

DAVE: OK. But you’re not to shut it out. You’re not to shut anything out.

ANNA: I’ll try.

[She very slowly gets to her feet, stands concentrating.]

DAVE: That’s right. Now, who are you?

END OF ACT ONE