The Complete Talking Heads (20 page)

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Authors: Alan Bennett

BOOK: The Complete Talking Heads
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A lot of lurid details, how he sometimes used to put a hood over her head so’s she couldn’t see and bring in other people to watch. Business associates, she thought. Leading lights in the world of vending machines, probably.
Henry says she was lucky because there was another case going on the same week up in Liverpool, a man had up for killing a child, and that pushed her out of the limelight a bit.
Of course, what Henry calls the wild and woolly feminist ladies were out in force even shouting from the gallery. ‘To a degree irresponsible,’ Henry said. ‘However mitigating the circumstances, Rosemary, she has to be looking at a custodial sentence.’ Then, when he only gave her two years, the judge gets it in the neck from the law and order brigade. But, as Sheila Blanchard said, ‘Worth every minute of it,
dear, if you ask me. A couple of years basket weaving and you get the bed to yourself. Cheap at the price. I just wish I had a gun. As it is I’m pinning my hopes on his prostate.’
I can’t go and see her so often now she’s convicted and Henry doesn’t know I go at all. Well, I’ve never had a best friend, the sort you can tell everything to. Never had one, never been one, even when I was a girl. Not the type, I suppose. And no secrets to tell either. And with not having children I wasn’t a member of that club either.
She’s in Rissington, the other side of York. It’s one of these modern places, looks like a business park or an out of town shopping centre. Crimes ‘R’ Us. She’s transformed the prison garden, which used to be very utilitarian, cabbages, lettuces and whatnot.
Only now she’s got them to do some interplanting, even make it a bit of a potager …and while it’s never going to be Sissinghurst …the site’s too windy …it’s still streets ahead of what it was. She has visions of it being open to the public but that’s difficult with it being a prison. We go and sit on a seat in the garden and she’s started telling me about all the stuff he forced her to do. Said she wanted me to know in case it made me not want to see her any more. I said, ‘Don’t be silly.’ But terrible things I never knew people did. And with the hood over her head and men there, watching in silence. More than watching actually.
One of them who had a funny habit … and I knew what she was going to say the second before she said it …a funny habit of whistling under his breath.
Pause.
Of course, a lot of people do that.
FADE.
Kitchen.
‘I see they’re selling the Murder House,’ Sheila Blanchard calls out to me this morning. ‘The board’s gone up. Asking 160.’ I didn’t say I knew, or that actually it’s sold already. Fran says they’re an Asian family, quite well-to-do, have a chain of electrical shops. I thought, Well, that won’t do Marbella any good. Poor Henry. Golf with Jimmy Tarbuck takes a knock.
I look at him a lot now, this once upon a time spectator, or maybe still, who knows, somewhere. And I think … Well, sometimes I just think,
‘You dark horse.’ Other times I think about Fran and get upset. He caught me staring at him the other night, said ‘What are you looking at, young lady?’ I said, predictably, ‘Nothing.’ ‘You’ve been getting a bit broody lately,’ he said. And he patted me on the knee.
(She pulls a face.)
What I’d actually been thinking was whether all these years he’d been wanting to see me crawl round the room naked on my hands and knees. No worse than bedding out, I suppose, though if I did it nowadays I’d have to have my knee pads on, which might take the edge off things a bit.
But I think about the collar and lead, then I think Well, that’s what my marriage has been like too, being jerked along. I mean, what else is Marbella?
We never settled on what to call it, that was part of the trouble. The garden’s made me quite used to things having a common name and a Latin one. Only with sex neither seemed to suit Henry. Coming from me, anyway. Just got embarrassed.
He’s no idea I go and see her. I tell him it’s the hospice. The farm goes from strength to strength; she’s put her onions in for shows and gone commercial with the tomatoes. She’s there every free moment, well, I say free. Except that when I say goodbye at the gate it feels it’s me that’s going back to prison.
Once a month they let her out for a half day and we go off for the afternoon and do all sorts. Open gardens, obviously, auctions we’ve been to, car boot sales. And old churches, which I’ve never cared much for, only Fran knows a lot about them. One church in the middle of a field near where there’d been a battle. And we sit there in a pew while she explains all the architectural features. And sometimes I think I’ve never been so happy in my life.
She took my arm this last time, just as we were coming down some steps at Fountains Abbey and then, when we got to the bottom, she didn’t let go. It was just like it was when I was a girl when a boy did it. Such a bold step. And so meant.
And I thought, here I am strolling arm in arm with someone who murdered her husband. I said …out loud … ‘I know what this is.’ She said, ‘What is it?’ I said, ‘It’s life.’
She wasn’t feeling all that clever today so we just went and sat in the grounds, and she held my hand again. Going into York next week for a check-up. I thought I could go along and hang about the hospital just on the off-chance I might see her but she’ll be with a warder apparently so I won’t.
Gave me this.
She has a large tomato which she puts to her cheek.
FADE.
A patio wall. A tropical night. Crickets, etc.
I’ve never had to start a garden from scratch before. There are no features at all. Flat, square, stony it’s like one of the ‘before’ pictures in the gardening magazines. Or an exercise yard.
A lawn’s pretty much out of the question in this heat and the water supply’s very quixotic, though Henry says the greens at the golf club are immaculate. And he saw Sean Connery last week. So I sit and look at it and draw plans. ‘Look on it as a challenge,’ Henry says. ‘You’ll crack it, young lady,’ he says. ‘I know you.’
(The dialogue is now quite broken up.)
She died, did Fran. A lot of toing and froing before they eventually tracked it down. No surprise to either of us. Doctors. It’s the first thing
that occurs to you and the last thing that occurs to them. By which time it’s too late. ‘Oh, it was always too late, Mrs Horrocks.’
She was in a hospice at the finish so I knew the drill. I used to hold her hand, kiss it. And she’d kiss mine. We’d talked about a little garden centre.
Best thing that could have happened, Henry said. Which is when I should have packed my bags. Instead of which I just went and sat in the greenhouse for a bit. Typical.
He’ll sometimes wear one of these caps with the big peaks that boys wear. Reckons it’s for the sun. Caught him the other day wearing it back to front. I suppose it’s known as a new lease of life.
There are supposed to be lots of criminals round here. Bank robbers and such like who can’t go back, play golf all day.
Of course it’s just what would happen in a play. Fran shot him so she had to pay. Only this place is crawling with people who haven’t paid. Unless you count just being here as paying.
The gardening books talk about the plants that are supposed to like shade. They say they prefer it.
I don’t believe it. I don’t believe anything likes shade. They do perfectly well in the shade, it’s true. But give them even … (
and there’s quite a
long pause
) give them a bit of sun and suddenly they come into their own.
I sit here at night, listening to the frogs and the crickets, and Henry, whistling under his breath.
FADE.
Violet:
Thora Hird
PRODUCED BY
MARK SHIVAS
DESIGNED BY
STUART WALKER
DIRECTED BY
STUART BURGE
MUSIC BY
GEORGE FENTON
THE SPEAKER IS AN OLD LADY IN A WHEELCHAIR. SHE HAS A RUG OVER HER KNEES. THE BACKGROUND IS PLAIN AND UNCLUTTERED. SOMETIMES SHE IS PARKED BY A RADIATOR, SOMETIMES BY A WINDOW OR THE END OF A BED. THE SHOTS NEED NOT BE CONTINUOUS AS WRITTEN BUT CAN BE BROKEN UP BY A CUTAWAY OF VIOLET’S HANDS, TWISTING HER HANDKERCHIEF, TURNING HER WEDDING-RING OR JUST FOLDED IN HER LAP. SOMETIMES WHEN SHE IS TRYING TO REMEMBER THINGS OR EXPRESS THEM SHE FILLS UP WITH TEARS BUT THESE ARE ONLY BRIEF AND SHE GENERALLY BATTLES ON.
I
saw this feller’s what-do-you-call-it today. Except I’m not supposed to say ‘what-do-you-call-it’. Verity says, Violet. What-do-you-call-it is banned. When we cannot find the word we want we
describe
, we do not say ‘what-do-you-call-it’. Well, you won’t catch me describing that. Besides, ‘what-do-you-call-it’ is what I call it. Somebody’s what-do-you-call-it. Anyway I saw it.
I didn’t think anything about it only somebody must have gone and alerted the office because next thing you know Bouncing Betty poles in. She says, ‘Violet, I have to ask you this. Was the penis erect?’ I said, ‘Nurse Bapty That’s not a word I would use.’ She said, ‘Erect?’ I said, ‘No. The other.’ She said, ‘Well, Violet. You’ve had what we call a stroke. You’re sometimes funny with words.’ I said, ‘I’m not funny with that word.’ She said, ‘Things have changed now, Violet. Penis is its name. All the other names are just trying to make it more acceptable. Language is a weapon, Violet. We’re at war.’ I said, ‘Who with?’ She said, ‘Men.’
He was a smartish feller, can’t have been more than seventy and a lovely blue suit. He could have been a bank manager except he had no socks on. I said, ‘You can put that away.’ He said, ‘I’ve got a big detached house in Harrogate.’ I said, ‘That’s no excuse.’ He said, ‘It’s got five bathrooms.’
She turns her wheelchair.
They’ve inaugurated this what-do-you-call (
She checks herself
) …this chairlift thing. I think he must have come up from downstairs. There’s been one or two of them trying to migrate. They get bored. Do you wonder? Anyway when he saw it wasn’t cutting much ice with me he takes it over to Hilda, only she’s busy braying on her tray with her spoon so it doesn’t make much of an impact there either. Mary’s asleep and when he wakes her up and says, ‘Look at this’, she says, ‘Is it dinner-time?’ and goes back to sleep again.
In the finish he comes back to me and says, ‘I’ve forgotten, did I show you this?’ At which point Rene rushes in, sees his lordship with his trousers down and says, ‘Are you my taxi? I’m all ready.’
I said to Francis, ‘And they call it a rest home.’
FADE.
They haven’t given it up. We were throwing this ball about … a big, felty thing …I could never catch a ball when I was little so I know I can’t do it now. Anyway Nurse Bapty comes in and wheels me to the window and says, ‘Violet, having seen this penis, would you like some counselling?’ I said, ‘Nurse. I’m nearly 95.’ She said, ‘Yes, Violet, but you’re a victim and choose how old you are, you’re still flying the flag of gender.’ I said, ‘Well I think a cup of tea would do the trick, Nurse Bapty, thank you.’ I call them all Nurse and she is a nurse only a lot of them aren’t, they’re just young lasses.
Francis is a proper nurse, though, he’s got letters after his name and you can tell because he has me out of my clothes in no time. I said, ‘Somebody tried to undress me once, only he wasn’t a patch on you. Are you as sharp as this with your girl friend?’ He said, ‘You’re my girl friend.’
He has some grand arms.
FADE.
I can’t reckon up names. New lass on this afternoon, bonny little thing, helping Francis put me to bed for my lie down. I said, ‘What’s your name, love?’ She says, ‘Devon.’ I says, ‘That’s never a name, it’s a place.’ She says, ‘Yes, a very beautiful place. My mam and dad used to go on holiday there.’ I said, ‘Well, it’s a good job they didn’t go to Skegness.’
She looks right mad, only Francis laughs so she laughs an’ all. I think she’s got her eye on him.
I drop off and when I wake up there’s a fellow by my bed. He goes, ‘Hello!’ I said, ‘Hello’ and shut my eyes again. They send these folks round to test you.
When I open them again he’s still there. ‘Hello!,’ he goes. Fattish feller, sixty odd, gingery tash. He said, ‘It’s Donald, mother. I’m your son.’
He didn’t look like a son, looked more like a father. Big wristwatch, attaché case, one of these green raincoaty-things they shoot in. Anyway I take no notice and he starts on the Hello! game again. Hello! Hello! Made me feel like a budgie. I said, ‘Bugger off.’
Mrs …Mrs …light-coloured lady …Shah comes in, starts
squeegeeing round. He says, ‘It’s tragic, isn’t it. She’d never had a day’s illness in her life. I think it’s a disease of civilisation. Does it happen in your country?’ She says, ‘I’m from Huddersfield.’
Then Rene comes in, ready for off as usual. She says, ‘Are you my taxi? I’ve been waiting all morning.’ ‘I’ve just remembered,’ he says, ‘I’m wanted in Wakefield,’ shoves his tash in my face and he’s off. Mrs Shah says, ‘Was that your son?’ I said, ‘He thinks so.’ She says, ‘My son’s got in to do engineering. He’s six foot two.’
I lay there working it out. If I had a son I must have had a … husband. So when Francis was wiping my bottom later on I said, ‘Did I get married?’ He said, ‘Yes, can’t you remember?’ I said, ‘I remember one young man but I don’t think I took the plunge. Are you married?’ He said, ‘You get star treatment here,Violet. Even the Queen doesn’t get her bottom wiped.’
FADE.
What’s her name came round today … her that helps me with talking … (
She thinks
) …name of a cricket bat, else a gas oven … Verity. She’s a nicelooking lass but makes nowt of herself, a big jumper thing … said, I bet you’ve got a right nice …’ She goes, ‘Describe, Violet, describe …’ I said, ‘A right nice …them two things with pink ends that men like …Bust.’
By, she did look narked! She said, ‘Things are different now, Violet. Women have control of their own bodies.’ I said, ‘Is that why I can’t get them to take me to the toilet?’
Then we start doing these exercises, naming folks. I’m quite good at that …Rene, Mary, Hilda. And then I get stuck. She says, ‘Describe, Violet. Say, the lady in the yellow frock.’ I said, ‘The black lady.’ She said, ‘No, Violet. It’s better to say the lady in the yellow frock.’
I says to Francis, ‘It’s a complicated business talking. I never used to give it a thought.’ He said, ‘What?’
He wasn’t listening. He was miles away. Really quiet. Not like him. He’s generally so full of …them things you get in tins … beans!
He’s a lovely looking lad.
FADE.
Rene gollops her food. She was sick today all down Francis’s front. I said, ‘You gollop your food, you.’ She said, ‘Well, I have to. I’ve got a taxi coming.’ I said, ‘Rene, where’s this taxi taking you?’ She said, ‘Armley.’
I said, ‘Armley where?’ She said, ‘My mam and dad’s in 1947.’ I said, ‘Well, if he can take you there I bet he does a spanking trade.’
Anyway she fetches her dinner back all down Francis. So he says, ‘You’ll have to excuse me, ladies’ and he takes his …tunicky thing …right off. And by, he’s a grand-looking lad! Not a mark on him and right big (
She mimes shoulders
) …here. It made you want to …(
She mimes a kiss
) …do that, whatever it’s called. Lovely. Devon came in I saw her having a look.
When he’s finished cleaning up he says, ‘Well, Violet you’ve seen something today.’ I said, ‘I’ve seen it before.’ He just has a little bit of this (
She touches her hair
) …starting here (
She touches her chest
). Like they do at that age. (
She starts to cry
.) I said, ‘Don’t go get yourself …’ He said, ‘What?’ I said, ‘Like when you don’t come back. Khaki …poppies.’ He said, ‘Nay, that’s all done with now. They don’t die like that.’ And he looked right … (
She touches her cheeks meaning tears)
… what’s it called?
FADE,
I saw my legs today. I didn’t own them. They didn’t look like my legs at
all. That Devon was giving me a bath. I said, ‘Them’s never my legs.’ She said, ‘Whose legs do you think they are?’ I said, ‘Well, you never know in this place. I’ve had somebody else’s teeth before now. And this frock isn’t mine. Tangerine doesn’t suit me. Where’s that green little frock?’ She said, ‘Hilda kept wetting herself in it and it’s gone funny.’ Francis wouldn’t have put me in this frock. Only he wasn’t there.
She’s putting me back on the bed and I said, ‘Well I’ve learned one thing. I’m not Betty Grable.’ She says, ‘Who’s she?’ No wonder your talking goes … even when you get it right they think you’re barmy. Francis knows all the old film stars …Betty Grable …her that sings and that one with the cig and her hair up …bit of a madam …Bette Davis.
Anyway I’m sitting up in bed when they all waltz in with this cake. Turns out it’s my birthday. I’m ninety something …I don’t know, they did tell me. Candles. Tasted like candles did the cake. Anyway I had to reckon to be … pleased (
She pretends to smile) ..
.Kept saying a few years more and I’ll be getting the …now then …lad comes on a bike … folks stood at the door, weeping … telegram. Her on the horse at the end of the pictures, she sends it you apparently. Queen.
No Francis though. I said to Nurse Bapty, ‘Where is he?’ She said, ‘He’s gone for a check-up.’ I said,’Check-up for what?’ She said, ‘Oh, they do that now.’
Pause.
I hate tangerine.
FADE.
Verity fetches a young lad in this morning. She says to him, ‘You’re privileged. Violet is our oldest resident.’ She says, ‘Spencer’s going to ask you one or two questions for his school project. It’s about the past.’
Poor-looking lad, bonny face. Floppy clothes, shirt-tail out. I said, ‘Is that your big brother’s jumper?’ He says, ‘No. It’s dead smart is this.’ Gets out his exercise book, and says, ‘What was it like then?’ I said, ‘Well …’ He said, ‘Were things better or worse?’ I said, ‘Well, my legs were better.’He said he didn’t mean that. Verity comes back and he says, ‘She doesn’t seem to know what I’m talking about.’ Verity says, ‘Well, she’s had a stroke. Come on, I’ll find you another one.’ (
Violet is a bit upset.
)
I said to Francis, ‘He’d mean trams and whatnot. Strikes. Tin-baths. The war.’ Francis says, ‘Which war?’ I said, ‘The proper war when all the
young lads got killed. “Never again.” That war.’ He looked right sad and said, ‘Hold my hand.’ So I did. Then he said, ‘Did you have a young man?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘What was he like?’ I said, ‘His name was Edward. They had a little confectioner’s down Tong Road. He used to fetch my mam a vanilla slice. Every time he came round, a vanilla slice.’
I still had hold of his hand. I said, ‘When you were courting then, it was a kind of …where you fight …’ He said, ‘Struggle.’ I said, ‘Ay. He’d manage to get one button undone one night, and another the next. And lasses weren’t supposed to do much in them days, just lie back and get ready to draw the line. And because I’d let him get so far one night, he’d know where the front line was, so the next night he’d get there a bit quicker and push on a bit further … another button, you know. It was that … grudging somehow. But it was the way you felt you had to be then.
Anyway he was going off to France next day; he was in camp over at Church Fenton and they’d given him a pass for his last night. My mam …oh she was a good ‘un …she put some anemones in a vase …I love anemones …and put a fire in the front room and then she reckoned she had to stay at my Aunt Florence’s that night. Ordinary folks then were better than they’re ever given credit for, for all they were so straitlaced.
I gave him his tea and then we went and sat in the front room and he started on like, undoing my buttons and kissing and whatnot. Only I’d wanted to look nice so I’d put on my best frock and he couldn’t fathom how it unfastened. I should just have taken it off but I didn’t and, poor lamb, he got so fed up with these flaming buttons, in the finish he gave up.
He’d taken his leggings …his puttees off because they were hot and he was in his shirtsleeves; they were right rough khaki shirts then, really cheap and itchy. Anyway in the finish he gets up off the sofa and says, ‘Hang this lot,’ and he takes his shirt off and everything else besides. Doesn’t say a word, just takes it all off and stands there on the hearthrug. Oh and he looked a picture, with the fire and that. Not a mark on him. Then he says,’Take your clothes off now.’

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