Complete Works, Volume IV (16 page)

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You’re out of date.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.

1973

SCENE FIVE

Hotel room. Venice. 1973. Summer.

Emma on bed reading. Robert at window looking out.

She looks up at him, then back at the book.

EMMA
It’s Torcello tomorrow, isn’t it?

ROBERT
What?

EMMA
We’re going to Torcello tomorrow, aren’t we?

ROBERT
Yes. That’s right.

EMMA
That’ll be lovely.

ROBERT
Mmn.

EMMA
I can’t wait.

Pause.

ROBERT
Book good?

EMMA
Mmn. Yes.

ROBERT
What is it?

EMMA
This new book. This man Spinks.

ROBERT
Oh that. Jerry was telling me about it.

EMMA
Jerry? Was he?

ROBERT
He was telling me about it at lunch last week.

EMMA
Really? Does he like it?

ROBERT
Spinks is his boy. He discovered him.

EMMA
Oh. I didn’t know that.

ROBERT
Unsolicited manuscript.

Pause.

You think it’s good, do you?

EMMA
Yes, I do. I’m enjoying it.

ROBERT
Jerry thinks it’s good too. You should have lunch with us one day and chat about it.

EMMA
Is that absolutely necessary?

Pause.

It’s not as good as all that.

ROBERT
You mean it’s not good enough for you to have lunch with Jerry and me and chat about it?

EMMA
What the hell are you talking about?

ROBERT
I must read it again myself, now it’s in hard covers.

EMMA
Again?

ROBERT
Jerry wanted us to publish it.

EMMA
Oh, really?

ROBERT
Well, naturally. Anyway, I turned it down.

EMMA
Why?

ROBERT
Oh . . . not much more to say on that subject, really, is there?

EMMA
What do you consider the subject to be?

ROBERT
Betrayal.

EMMA
No, it isn’t.

ROBERT
Isn’t it? What is it then?

EMMA
I haven’t finished it yet. I’ll let you know.

ROBERT
Well, do let me know.

Pause.

Of course, I could be thinking of the wrong book.

Silence.

By the way, I went into American Express yesterday.

She looks up.

EMMA
Oh?

ROBERT
Yes. I went to cash some travellers cheques. You get a much better rate there, you see, than you do in an hotel.

EMMA
Oh, do you?

ROBERT
Oh yes. Anyway, there was a letter there for you. They asked me if you were any relation and I said yes. So they asked me if I wanted to take it. I mean, they gave it to me. But I said no, I would leave it. Did you get it?

EMMA
Yes.

ROBERT
I suppose you popped in when you were out shopping yesterday evening?

EMMA
That’s right.

ROBERT
Oh well, I’m glad you got it.

Pause.

To be honest, I was amazed that they suggested I take it. It could never happen in England. But these Italians . . . so free and easy. I mean, just because my name is Downs and your name is Downs doesn’t mean that we’re the Mr and Mrs Downs that they, in their laughing Mediterranean way, assume we are. We could be, and in fact are vastly more likely to be, total strangers. So let’s say I, whom they laughingly assume to be your husband, had taken the letter, having declared myself to be your husband but in truth
being a total stranger, and opened it, and read it, out of nothing more than idle curiosity, and then thrown it in a canal, you would never have received it and would have been deprived of your legal right to open your own mail, and all this because of Venetian je m’en foutisme. I’ve a good mind to write to the Doge of Venice about it.

Pause.

That’s what stopped me taking it, by the way, and bringing it to you, the thought that I could very easily be a total stranger.

Pause.

What they of course did not know, and had no way of knowing, was that I am your husband.

EMMA
Pretty inefficient bunch.

ROBERT
Only in a laughing Mediterranean way.

Pause.

EMMA
It was from Jerry.

ROBERT
Yes, I recognised the handwriting.

Pause.

How is he?

EMMA
Okay.

ROBERT
Good. And Judith?

EMMA
Fine.

Pause.

ROBERT
What about the kids?

EMMA
I don’t think he mentioned them.

ROBERT
They’re probably all right, then. If they were ill or something he’d have probably mentioned it.

Pause.

Any other news?

EMMA
No.

Silence.

ROBERT
Are you looking forward to Torcello?

Pause.

How many times have we been to Torcello? Twice. I remember how you loved it, the first time I took you there. You fell in love with it. That was about ten years ago, wasn’t it? About . . . six months after we were married. Yes. Do you remember? I wonder if you’ll like it as much tomorrow.

Pause.

What do you think of Jerry as a letter writer?

She laughs shortly.

You’re trembling. Are you cold?

EMMA
No.

ROBERT
He used to write to me at one time. Long letters about Ford Madox Ford. I used to write to him too, come to think of it. Long letters about . . . oh, W. B. Yeats, I suppose. That was the time when we were both editors of poetry magazines. Him at Cambridge, me at Oxford. Did you know that? We were bright young men. And close friends. Well, we still are close friends. All that was long before I met you. Long before he met you. I’ve been trying to remember when I introduced him to you. I simply can’t remember. I take it I
did
introduce him to you? Yes. But when? Can you remember?

EMMA
No.

ROBERT
You can’t?

EMMA
No.

ROBERT
How odd.

Pause.

He wasn’t best man at our wedding, was he?

EMMA
You know he was.

ROBERT
Ah yes. Well, that’s probably when I introduced him to you.

Pause.

Was there any message for me, in his letter?

Pause.

I mean in the line of business, to do with the world of publishing. Has he discovered any new and original talent? He’s quite talented at uncovering talent, old Jerry.

EMMA
No message.

ROBERT
No message. Not even his love?

Silence.

EMMA
We’re lovers.

ROBERT
Ah. Yes. I thought it might be something like that, something along those lines.

EMMA
When?