The main room of Ann’s flat in London, Rather severely and (for reasons which will emerge) sparsely furnished. The main item of furniture is a full-length, high-backed sofa, facing front, with a coffee-table in front of it. The rest of the room is divided into three principal areas: a dining-recess, with a table and one chair; a desk, facing the window, covered with papers and books; and a white colour-T.V. set facing an uncomfortable-looking modern leather swivel-chair pretty much out of keeping with the rest of the furniture. No carpet: instead a couple of rugs covering rather unexpected areas of the floor. Apart from this, there is a telephone near the desk, a large ornate mirror on the side wall and two sets of bookshelves, one fairly full, the other empty except for two or three volumes, lying on their sides. The main door, which leads into a tiny hall is in the centre of the back wall; and there are two other doors leading to the kitchen and the bedroom respectively. Early evening in autumn.
Ann, who is in her mid-twenties and striking rather than beautiful, sits on the sofa, leafing through Vogue. Next to her, holding her hand, is Patrick. He is about ten years older, and looks amiable enough, although faintly absurd at present, as he is wearing large white headphones, connected by a long lead to the amplifier, which is in the fuller of the two bookshelves next to the door. He is listening to the 3rd movement of Bruckner’s 4th Symphony, fairly loud, and clearly enjoying himself.
After a time, he speaks.
Patrick Apparently, when Bruckner finally got to hear one of his symphonies performed, he was so chuffed he tried to tip the conductor.
Brief silence.
Ann How come you know all these things?
Patrick (not hearing) Or so it says on the sleeve. (As he speaks, he realises Ann has said something.) What?
Ann Nothing.
She smiles. Silence.
Patrick I think that’s rather touching. (He looks at Ann, who is smiling broadly.) You obviously think it’s pathetic.
Ann Not at all.
Patrick What?
Longish silence. Then, from outside, quite clearly, the sound of breaking glass. Ann looks up, startled.
What?
Ann shakes her head at him and he sinks back into the music. Ten seconds. Ann, looking worried, gets up and starts moving round behind the sofa. As she does so, the handle of the door turns and it begins very slowly to open. Ann freezes. Dave appears in the doorway. He is a man of about 30, ordinary enough looking in the normal run of events, but possessed of a kind of malignant energy, which is at the moment particularly apparent. Ann seems about to cry out, or at least to speak, but Dave puts his finger to his lips so quickly he succeeds in checking her. He stands for a moment, assessing the scene, then moves swiftly to the amplifier and turns the volume up very loud indeed. Patrick leaps to his feet with a howl of pain, plucking ineffectually at his headphones as if they were a swarm of bees. Finally he manages to get them off and throws them down on the sofa.
Christ Jesus!
At this moment he becomes aware of Dave, who is already striding purposefully towards him. They come together behind the sofa, where, without the slightest hesitation, Dave punches Patrick very hard on the nose. Patrick collapses behind the sofa, vanishing entirely from view. Ann screams. Dave turns and strides back to the amplifier, turns the volume down very low, then turns back to Ann
Dave Any messages?
Ann Get out!
Dave Any mail?
Ann Will you get the hell out of here!
Dave That’s not very nice.
A groan from Patrick. His hand appears over the back of the sofa.
All I want to know is, is there any post for me?
Ann I sent it on to your mother’s.
Dave You did what?
Patrick rises slowly from behind the sofa, very shaken. Dave glances at him briefly, then turns his attention back to Ann.
Why?
Ann I thought you’d be living there for the time being.
Patrick Look …
Dave I thought I was living here for the time being. And if I’m not living here, I’m certainly not going anywhere near that old ginbag. You just sent my letters to her because you know she likes steaming them open. (Pause. He looks around the room.) Where’s Arthur?
Patrick Look …
Dave Shut up. Where’s Arthur?
Ann I gave him away.
Dave What did you say?
Ann I gave him away.
Dave You bitch.
Patrick Listen …
Dave Shut up. Who did you give him to?
Ann The newsagent.
Dave The newsagent?
Ann Yes, you know, our local newsagent.
Dave Well, you listen to me. You better have him back here by this time tomorrow or there’ll be trouble.
Patrick Now, look here …
Dave Shut up, you. (He turns back to Ann.) Do you understand me?
Ann If you want him back, you’ll have to go and get him yourself.
Dave I can’t look after him at the moment. Not where I’m staying.
Ann Then he’ll just have to stop where he is. He’s perfectly happy there.
Dave I’m not having my dog dumped off on some bloody wog newsagent. They’ll be sending him out delivering before we know where we are.
Ann Just go away, will you?
Dave That is my dog!
Ann Go away!
Dave I’m going to hurt you.
Ann Call the police, Patrick.
Patrick What?
Ann Call the police.
Patrick begins to move hesitantly towards the telephone.
Patrick I’m sure … Are you sure …?
Ann He’s broken in, assaulted you and threatened me. Tell them that.
Patrick 999, is it?
Dave Who is this creep?
Ann Tell them to come right away.
Patrick is now poised above the telephone, eyeing it uneasily.
Dave I shouldn’t pick up that phone if I were you, son.
Patrick picks it up. Dave rushes towards him as he leans forward to dial. Their heads crash. This time it’s Dave who has the worst of the encounter. He doubles up and staggers away, moaning and covering his eye. Patrick, startled, stands watching him a moment, then puts the receiver down, concerned.
Christ, bloody hell, watch what you’re doing.
Dave Nearly had my eye out.
Patrick I’m very sorry.
Dave I should think so.
Patrick Are you all right?
Dave Fuck.
Ann Now will you go?
Dave Not until you tell me who this strange man is.
Ann None of your business.
Patrick My name is Patrick Archer.
Dave Never heard of you.
Patrick And you must be Dave Tilley.
Dave I want to know where you picked him up.
Patrick We work together.
Ann Look, Patrick, will you not stand chatting, I want him to go.
Dave Patrick, Patrick, hang on a minute … it’s not, is it?
Ann avoids his eye, doesn’t answer.
Patrick Not what?
Dave Not the famous office bore?
Patrick What do you mean?
Dave Not the one who’s so dull he put that Arab and his interpreter to sleep during their meeting?
Patrick catches Ann’s eye, then, when she looks away, speaks with some dignity.
Patrick They’d had a long flight.
Dave I can’t believe this. I come back from three weeks in Nicosia, most of which I spent lying flat in the corridors of the Ledra Palace Hotel, waiting for some Turk to put a bullet up my Khyber, to find you’ve not only changed the lock, put my possessions into store and hired some idiot answering service so you don’t even have to speak to me, but that you actually appear to be living with a man who’s been a household joke for two years, (to Patrick) You are living here, aren’t you? Aren’t you married? You look married.
Patrick Yes, I am living here; no, I’m not married.
Dave (to Ann) What’s the meaning of this?
Ann The idea was to avoid this kind of scene. After all, we’ve had enough of them over the last few months.
Dave Give me a drink.
Ann No.
Dave (to Patrick) Scotch.
Ann No!
Dave It’s very probably my Scotch.
Ann It is not.
Dave Look, there are things to discuss, you know, financial matters, that kind of thing. I know you like to pretend none of that exists, but you can’t have an amputation without a few bits and bobs need tying up. So why don’t we all sit down – (he does so in the swivel-chair, swivels round to face front) – and have a drink?
Ann No.
Patrick Let me get him a drink, then you can discuss what you have to discuss and get it over with.
Dave That’s the boy.
Patrick crosses to the dining-recess, opens a cupboard, takes out a couple of glasses, pours Scotch. Ann watches him, annoyed.
Patrick Like something, love?
Ann No.
Patrick comes down, hands a glass to Dave.
Dave Thanks, thanks. (He takes a sip.) It’s upset me, punching you like that. I try never to do anything spontaneous.
Patrick I’m surprised it was spontaneous.
Dave It wasn’t, no, in fact I’d planned the whole thing, but the after-effect is the same as if it had been spontaneous.
Ann I’m going.
Dave That’s not going to be very helpful.
Ann Well, then, get on with it.
Patrick Do you want me to go?
Dave Yes.
Ann No!
Dave Make-your-mind-up time.
Ann Look, it’s all settled, everything’s settled, so I can’t think why you’re pissing about. I worked it all out very carefully, so as far as I can see, there’s nothing to discuss.
Dave Sit down.
Patrick sits on the sofa. Ann remains standing.
There is, on the contrary, a great deal to discuss, and since you insist on washing our dirty linen in public, let me begin with something which is very near to my heart, not to say directly beneath my bum: namely, my chair.
Ann What?
Dave This is my chair.
Ann We bought it together.
Dave Precisely. For me. We bought it together for me.
Ann Listen, there are two pieces of furniture we went out and bought together. One was this chair and the other was the rug. And since the rug was considerably more expensive than the chair, I decided if I gave you the rug, you’d have nothing to complain about.
Dave The rug.
Ann Yes.
Dave Well, now, that’s going to be very handy for sitting at my desk typing, isn’t it?
Ann The desk is mine.
Dave I don’t mean that ramshackle old heap, I mean my desk.
Patrick Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I went?
Ann Oh, shut up.
Dave If you’d really wanted to be on the safe side, you would have given me the chair and the rug. However, since I’m a reasonable man, I propose you give me the chair and I’ll bring you back the rug.
Ann No, I don’t want you bringing it back. Have someone deliver it and collect the chair and send me the bill.
Dave Right. Excellent. Now. Next. Fixtures and fittings.
Ann You want half the curtains?
Dave Oh, very good, this is very good. No, no, as you well know, fixtures and fittings has very little to do with the curtains. It’s a metaphysical, landlord’s idea, the purpose of which was to secure, as you will remember, large and far from metaphysical sums of money.
Ann You want half the money.
Dave Well, I hadn’t actually worked it out in detail, but … now you mention it, yes, all right, yes, I would like half the money.
Ann You shit.
Dave I wouldn’t want to press you or anything, it’s just I’m a bit short at the moment.
Ann I’ll give it to you as and when I can get hold of it, I haven’t got anything like that kind of money at the moment.
Dave Do you wonder the country is on its knees?
Ann Naturally I’ll have to deduct for the pane of glass you broke in the door.
Patrick This is awful.
Ann Now why don’t you go away? I don’t know why you have to go through all this. For the last year, you’ve done nothing but threaten to leave me; all I did was the work.
Dave Work? I spent hours in Nicosia lying on my belly in the telephone queue, while you were in bed with a bore of international reputation, you call that work?
Silence. Dave suddenly looks defeated, his face collapses.
I want … to talk to you alone.
Ann No.
Dave I must, it’s very important.
Ann No.
Dave Please. Please.
Dave bursts into tears. Longish silence, broken only by his sobs.
Ann.
Ann Don’t.
Dave You mustn’t do this to me, Ann.
Ann It’s too late for all this.
Dave I want to go on living with you.
Patrick Perhaps I’d better …
Ann No.
Dave It’s so sudden. You shouldn’t have done it just like that.
Ann Better quick.
Dave I’d made up my mind. I’d made up my mind I was going to ask you to marry me when I got back.
Ann That’s not what you said on the phone.
Dave I was frightened. I got frightened. In Cyprus. I’d decided. I knew something had to be done.
Ann Something has been done.
Dave Let me come back. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know I was … I’m …
Ann I really think you must go now.
Dave All right.
Silence. Dave wipes his eyes, blows his nose, his face reassembles. He gets up.
Patrick Would you like me to call you a taxi?
Dave (angrily) I can’t afford a taxi, I’m completely broke. (He subsides, breathes deeply, is now just as he was before breaking down.) I’ll walk.
Ann Where are you staying?
Dave The Savoy.
Ann That’s absurd.
Dave None of your bloody business.
Ann I’m surprised you don’t go and stay with one of your mistresses.
Dave You know very well all my mistresses in London are married. (He moves over to the door.) I’ll be in touch.
Ann shakes her head. Dave leans round her to smile at Patrick.
Pip pip, old fart.
He leaves. Silence. Patrick gets up, moves towards Ann as she comes away from the door. She avoids him, sits in the swivel-chair. He hovers a moment, then returns to the sofa, sits down again.
Ann He’ll never forgive me now. (Pause.) Not that he would have done anyway. (Pause.) Jesus.
Patrick So that’s him.
Ann Yes.
Patrick Can’t ever remember such an unusual meeting.
Ann I told you he was a bastard.
Patrick Whatever made you put up with him for so long?
Silence.
Ann Expect he’ll be back.
Silence.
Patrick Tell me … why did you tell him all those things about how boring I was?
Ann That’s the kind of thing he used to enjoy.
Silence.
Patrick Fair enough.
‘Runaway’ sung by Del Shannon.