Complete Works, Volume IV (9 page)

BRIGGS
They loved him at first sight.

FOSTER
(
to Spooner
) You're not Siamese though, are you?

BRIGGS
He's a very long way from being Siamese.

FOSTER
Ever been out there?

SPOONER
I've been to Amsterdam.

Foster and Briggs stare at him.

I mean that was the last place . . . I visited. I know Europe well. My name is Spooner, by the way. Yes, one afternoon in Amsterdam . . . I was sitting outside a café by a canal. The weather
was superb. At another table, in shadow, was a man whistling under his breath, sitting very still, almost rigid. At the side of the canal was a fisherman. He caught a fish. He lifted it high. The waiter cheered and applauded, the two men, the waiter and the fisherman, laughed. A little girl, passing, laughed. Two lovers, passing, kissed. The fish was lofted, on the rod. The fish and the rod glinted in the sun, as they swayed. The fisherman's cheeks were flushed, with pleasure. I decided to paint a picture—of the canal, the waiter, the child, the fisherman, the lovers, the fish, and in background, in shadow, the man at the other table, and to call it The Whistler. The Whistler. If you had seen the picture, and the title, would the title have baffled you?

Pause.

FOSTER
(
to Briggs
) Do you want to answer that question?

BRIGGS
No. Go on. You answer it.

FOSTER
Well, speaking for myself, I think I would have been baffled by that title. But I might have appreciated the picture. I might even have been grateful for it.

Pause.

Did you hear what I said? I might have been grateful for the picture. A good work of art tends to move me. You follow me? I'm not a cunt, you know.

Pause.

I'm very interested to hear you're a painter. You do it in your spare time, I suppose?

SPOONER
Quite.

FOSTER
Did you ever paint that picture, The Whistler?

SPOONER
Not yet, I'm afraid.

FOSTER
Don't leave it too long. You might lose the inspiration.

BRIGGS
Ever painted a beermug?

SPOONER
You must come and see my collection, any time you wish.

BRIGGS
What of, beermugs?

SPOONER
No, no. Paintings.

FOSTER
Where do you keep it?

SPOONER
At my house in the country. You would receive the warmest of welcomes.

FOSTER
Who from?

SPOONER
My wife. My two daughters.

FOSTER
Really? Would they like me? What do you think? Would they love me at first sight?

SPOONER
(
laughing
) Quite possibly.

FOSTER
What about him?

Spooner looks at Briggs.

SPOONER
They are remarkably gracious women.

FOSTER
You're a lucky man. What are you drinking?

SPOONER
Scotch.

Foster goes to cabinet, pours scotch, stands holding glass.

FOSTER
What do you make of this? When I was out east . . . once . . . a kind of old stinking tramp, bollock naked, asked me for a few bob. I didn't know him. He was a complete stranger. But I could see immediately he wasn't a man to trust. He had a dog with him. They only had about one eye between them. So I threw him some sort of coin. He caught this bloody coin, looked at it with a bit of distaste, and then he threw the coin back. Well, automatically I went to catch it, I clutched at it, but the bloody
coin disappeared into thin air. It didn't drop anywhere. It just disappeared . . . into thin air . . . on its way towards me. He then let out a few curses and pissed off, with his dog. Oh, here's your whisky, by the way.
(
Hands it to him.
) What do you make of that incident?

SPOONER
He was a con artist.

FOSTER
Do you think so?

SPOONER
You would be wise to grant the event no integrity whatsoever.

FOSTER
You don't subscribe to the mystery of the orient?

SPOONER
A typical eastern con trick.

FOSTER
Double Dutch, you mean?

SPOONER
Certainly. Your good health.
(
Drinks.
)

Hirst enters, wearing a dressing-gown.

Briggs goes to cabinet, pours whisky.

HIRST
I can't sleep. I slept briefly. I think. Perhaps it was sufficient. Yes. I woke up, out of a dream. I feel cheerful. Who'll give me a glass of whisky?

Hirst sits. Briggs brings him whisky.

My goodness, is this for me? How did you know? You knew. You're very sensitive. Cheers. The first today. What day is it? What's the time? Is it still night?

BRIGGS
Yes.

HIRST
The same night? I was dreaming of a waterfall. No, no, of a lake. I think it was . . . just recently. Can you remember when I went to bed? Was it daylight? It's good to go to sleep in the late afternoon. After tea and toast. You hear the faint beginnings of the evening sounds, and then nothing. Everywhere else people are
changing for dinner. You're tucked up, the shutters closed, gaining a march on the world.

He passes his glass to Briggs, who fills and returns it.

Something is depressing me. What is it? It was the dream, yes. Waterfalls. No, no, a lake. Water. Drowning. Not me. Someone else. How nice to have company. Can you imagine waking up, finding no one here, just furniture, staring at you? Most unpleasant. I've known that condition, I've been through that period—cheers—I came round to human beings in the end. Like yourselves. A wise move. I tried laughing alone. Pathetic. Have you all got drinks?

He looks at Spooner.

Who's that? A friend of yours? Won't someone introduce me?

FOSTER
He's a friend of yours.

HIRST
In the past I knew remarkable people. I've a photograph album somewhere. I'll find it. You'll be impressed by the faces. Very handsome. Sitting on grass with hampers. I had a moustache. Quite a few of my friends had moustaches. Remarkable faces. Remarkable moustaches. What was it informed the scene? A tenderness towards our fellows, perhaps. The sun shone. The girls had lovely hair, dark, sometimes red. Under their dresses their bodies were white. It's all in my album. I'll find it. You'll be struck by the charm of the girls, their grace, the ease with which they sit, pour tea, loll. It's all in my album.

He empties glass, holds it up.

Who is the kindest among you?

Briggs takes glass to cabinet.

Thank you. What would I do without the two of you? I'd sit here forever, waiting for a stranger to fill up my glass. What would I do while I waited? Look through my album? Make plans for the future?

BRIGGS
(
bringing glass
) You'd crawl to the bottle and stuff it between your teeth.

HIRST
No. I drink with dignity.

He drinks, looks at Spooner.

Who is this man? Do I know him?

FOSTER
He says he's a friend of yours.

HIRST
My true friends look out at me from my album. I had my world. I have it. Don't think now that it's gone I'll choose to sneer at it, to cast doubt on it, to wonder if it properly existed. No. We're talking of my youth, which can never leave me. No
.
It existed. It was solid, the people in it were solid, while . . . transformed by light, while being sensitive . . . to all the changing light.

When I stood my shadow fell upon her. She looked up. Give me the bottle. Give me the bottle.

Briggs gives him the bottle. He drinks from it.

It's gone. Did it exist? It's gone. It never existed. It remains.

I am sitting here forever.

How kind of you. I wish you'd tell me what the weather's like. I wish you'd damnwell tell me what night it is, this night or the next night or the other one, the night before last. Be frank. Is it the night before last?

Help yourselves. I hate drinking alone. There's too much solitary shittery.

What was it? Shadows. Brightness, through leaves. Gambolling. In the bushes. Young lovers. A fall of water. It was my dream. The lake. Who was drowning in my dream?

It was blinding. I remember it. I've forgotten. By all that's sacred and holy. The sounds stopped. It was freezing. There's a gap in me.
I can't fill it. There's a flood running through me. I can't plug it. They're blotting me out. Who is doing it? I'm suffocating. It's a muff. A muff, perfumed. Someone is doing me to death.

She looked up. I was staggered. I had never seen anything so beautiful. That's all poison. We can't be expected to live like that.

I remember nothing. I'm sitting in this room. I see you all, every one of you. A sociable gathering. The dispositions are kindly.

Am I asleep? There's no water. No one is drowning.

Yes, yes, come on, come on, come on, pipe up, speak up, speak up, speak up, you're fucking me about, you bastards, ghosts, long ghosts, you're making noises, I can hear you humming, I wear a crisp blue shirt at the Ritz, I wear a crisp blue shirt at the Ritz, I know him well, the wine waiter, Boris, Boris, he's been there for years, blinding shadows, then a fall of water—

SPOONER
It was I drowning in your dream.

Hirst falls to the floor. They all go to him. Foster turns to Spooner.

FOSTER
Bugger off.

Briggs pulls Hirst up. Hirst wards him off.

HIRST
Unhand me.

He stands erect. Spooner moves to him.

SPOONER
He has grandchildren. As have I. As I have. We both have fathered. We are of an age. I know his wants. Let me take his arm. Respect our age. Come, I'll seat you.

He takes Hirst's arm and leads him to a chair.

There's no pity in these people.

FOSTER
Christ.

SPOONER
I am your true friend. That is why your dream . . . was so distressing. You saw me drowning in your dream. But have no fear. I am not drowned.

FOSTER
Christ.

SPOONER
(
to Hirst
) Would you like me to make you some coffee?

BRIGGS
He thinks he's a waiter in Amsterdam.

FOSTER
Service non compris.

BRIGGS
Whereas he's a pintpot attendant in the Bull's Head. And a pisspot attendant as well.

FOSTER
Our host must have been in The Bull's Head tonight, where he had an unfortunate encounter.
(
To Spooner.
) Hey scout, I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding. You're not in some shithouse down by the docks. You're in the home of a man of means, of a man of achievement. Do you understand me?

He turns to Briggs.

Why am I bothering? Tell me. Eh?

He turns back to Spooner.

Listen chummybum. We protect this gentleman against corruption, against men of craft, against men of evil, we could destroy you without a glance, we take care of this gentleman, we do it out of love.

He turns to Briggs.

Why am I talking to him? I'm wasting my time with a nonstarter. I must be going mad. I don't usually talk. I don't have to. Normally I keep quiet.

He turns back to Spooner.

I know what it is. There's something about you fascinates me.

SPOONER
It's my bearing.

FOSTER
That's what it must be.

BRIGGS
I've seen Irishmen chop his balls off.

FOSTER
I suppose once you've had Irishmen you've had everything.
(
To Spooner.
) Listen. Keep it tidy. You follow? You've just laid your hands on a rich and powerful man. It's not what you're used to, scout. How can I make it clear? This is another class. It's another realm of operation. It's a world of silk. It's a world of organdie. It's a world of flower arrangements. It's a world of eighteenth-century cookery books. It's nothing to do with toffeeapples and a packet of crisps. It's milk in the bath. It's the cloth bellpull. It's organisation.

BRIGGS
It's not rubbish.

FOSTER
It's not rubbish. We deal in originals. Nothing duff, nothing ersatz, we don't open any old bottle of brandy. Mind you don't fall into a quicksand.
(
To Briggs.
) Why don't I kick his head off and have done with it?

SPOONER
I'm the same age as your master. I used to picnic in the country too, at the same time as he.

FOSTER
Listen, my friend. This man in this chair, he's a creative man. He's an artist. We make life possible for him. We're in a position of trust. Don't try to drive a wedge into a happy household. You understand me? Don't try to make a nonsense out of family life.