1974

SCENE FOUR

Robert and Emma’s House. Living room. 1974.

Autumn.

Robert pouring a drink for Jerry. He goes to the door.

ROBERT Emma! Jerry’s here!

EMMA (off) Who?

ROBERT Jerry.

EMMA I’ll be down.

Robert gives the drink to Jerry.

JERRY Cheers.

ROBERT Cheers. She’s just putting Ned to bed. I should think he’ll be off in a minute.

JERRY Off where?

ROBERT Dreamland.

JERRY Ah. Yes, how is your sleep these days?

ROBERT What?

JERRY Do you still have bad nights? With Ned, I mean?

ROBERT Oh, I see. Well, no. No, it’s getting better. But you know what they say?

JERRY What?

ROBERT They say boys are worse than girls.

JERRY Worse?

ROBERT Babies. They say boy babies cry more than girl babies.

JERRY Do they?

ROBERT You didn’t find that to be the case?

JERRY Uh . . . yes, I think we did. Did you?

ROBERT Yes. What do you make of it? Why do you think that is?

JERRY Well, I suppose . . . boys are more anxious.

ROBERT Boy babies?

JERRY Yes.

ROBERT What the hell are they anxious about . . . at their age? Do you think?

JERRY Well . . . facing the world, I suppose, leaving the womb, all that.

ROBERT But what about girl babies? They leave the womb too.

JERRY That’s true. It’s also true that nobody talks much about girl babies leaving the womb. Do they?

ROBERT I am prepared to do so.

JERRY I see. Well, what have you got to say?

ROBERT I was asking you a question.

JERRY What was it?

ROBERT Why do you assert that boy babies find leaving the womb more of a problem than girl babies?

JERRY Have I made such an assertion?

ROBERT You went on to make a further assertion, to the effect that boy babies are more anxious about facing the world than girl babies.

JERRY Do you yourself believe that to be the case?

ROBERT I do, yes.

Pause.

JERRY Why do you think it is?

ROBERT I have no answer.

Pause.

JERRY Do you think it might have something to do with the difference between the sexes?

Pause.

ROBERT Good God, you’re right. That must be it.

Emma comes in.

EMMA Hullo. Surprise.

JERRY I was having tea with Casey.

EMMA Where?

JERRY Just around the corner.

EMMA I thought he lived in . . . Hampstead or somewhere.

ROBERT You’re out of date.

EMMA Am I?

JERRY He’s left Susannah. He’s living alone round the corner.

EMMA Oh.

ROBERT Writing a novel about a man who leaves his wife and three children and goes to live alone on the other side of London to write a novel about a man who leaves his wife and three children—

EMMA I hope it’s better than the last one.

ROBERT The last one? Ah, the last one. Wasn’t that the one about the man who lived in a big house in Hampstead with his wife and three children and is writing a novel about—?

JERRY (to Emma) Why didn’t you like it?

EMMA I’ve told you actually.

JERRY I think it’s the best thing he’s written.

EMMA It may be the best thing he’s written but it’s still bloody dishonest.

JERRY Dishonest? In what way dishonest?

EMMA I’ve told you, actually.

JERRY Have you?

ROBERT Yes, she has. Once when we were all having dinner, I remember, you, me, Emma and Judith, where was it, Emma gave a dissertation over the pudding about dishonesty in Casey with reference to his last novel. `Drying Out.’ It was most stimulating. Judith had to leave unfortunately in the middle of it for her night shift at the hospital. How is Judith, by the way?

JERRY Very well.

Pause.

ROBERT When are we going to play squash?

JERRY You’re too good.

ROBERT Not at all. I’m not good at all. I’m just fitter than you.

JERRY But why? Why are you fitter than me?

ROBERT Because I play squash.

JERRY Oh, you’re playing? Regularly?

ROBERT Mmnn.

JERRY With whom?

ROBERT Casey, actually.

JERRY Casey? Good Lord. What’s he like?

ROBERT He’s a brutally honest squash player. No, really, we haven’t played for years. We must play. You were rather good.

JERRY Yes, I was quite good. All right. I’ll give you a ring.

ROBERT Why don’t you?

JERRY We’ll make a date.

ROBERT Right.

JERRY Yes. We must do that.

ROBERT And then I’ll take you to lunch.

JERRY No, no. I’ll take you to lunch.

ROBERT The man who wins buys the lunch.

EMMA Can I watch?

Pause.

ROBERT What?

EMMA Why can’t I watch and then take you both to lunch?

ROBERT Well, to be brutally honest, we wouldn’t actually want a woman around, would we, Jerry? I mean a game of squash isn’t simply a game of squash, it’s rather more than that. You see, first there’s the game. And then there’s the shower. And then there’s the pint. And then there’s lunch. After all, you’ve been at it. You’ve had your battle. What you want is your pint and your lunch. You really don’t want a woman buying you lunch. You don’t actually want a woman within a mile of the place, any of the places, really. You don’t want her in the squash court, you don’t want her in the shower, or the pub, or the restaurant. You see, at lunch you want to talk about squash, or cricket, or books, or even women, with your friend, and be able to warm to your theme without fear of improper interruption. That’s what it’s all about. What do you think, Jerry?

JERRY I haven’t played squash for years.

Pause.

ROBERT Well, let’s play next week.

JERRY I can’t next week. I’m in New York.

EMMA Are you?

JERRY I’m going over with one of my more celebrated writers, actually.

EMMA Who?

JERRY Casey. Someone wants to film that novel of his you didn’t like. We’re going over to discuss it. It was a question of them coming over here or us going over there. Casey thought he deserved the trip.

EMMA What about you?

JERRY What?

EMMA Do you deserve the trip?

ROBERT Judith going?

JERRY No. He can’t go alone. We’ll have that game of squash when I get back. A week, or at the most ten days.

ROBERT Lovely.

JERRY (to Emma) Bye.

Robert and Jerry leave.

She remains still.

Robert returns. He kisses her. She responds. She breaks away, puts her head on his shoulder, cries quietly. He holds her.