A TASTE OF HONEY

by Shelagh Delaney

from the original manuscript held in the BRITISH LIBRARY a copy of which is posted on the Library’s
Internet site.

I have corrected the typos and italicised the stage directions.

Edits made on the script in red have been incorporated on this document. These red edits were
possibly made during workshopping with Joan Littlewood.

Appended to the original manuscript is my typed copy of a handwritten manuscript by Joan Littlewood
which begins:

J. L ~ ONE OF THE MANY ENDINGS T of H ~

This manuscript is also held by the BRITISH LIBRARY and is posted on their site. This ending was
probably intended to replace Ms. Delaney’s original script starting at [1] (my marking).

The BRITISH LIBRARY gives permission for the scripts to be ‘used in any way except commercially,
as long as credit is given to the ESTATE OF JOAN LITTLEWOOD.’

There is no Title Page provided with the original script.

Paul Pipher, Jan. 30, 2020

ACT ONE Page 1 (ADAPTED TO STAGE.)

Scene I

Time - the present.

Scene. a section of a street and a flat. On the left of the stage there stands a Street Lamp. The main
entrance to the flat is also is on the left. Inside the flat – of which only the main living room is visible –
there is a bedroom door – standing far back on the right dash and D.S.R further forward another door
which leads into the kitchen. The room is badly furnished – giving a generally down-at-heel
impression. A divan stands against one wall. On the back wall there is a window which overlooks a
river. As the curtain rises the stage is in darkness. The flat door opens and a woman, followed by a
young girl, enters. The woman – Helen – switches on the light – a light which dangles from the ceiling
on the end of a long flex (an unshaded electric light bulb) – they walk around the room taking in the
general features. Between them they carry a lot of luggage – including a smallish wooden crate.

Hel. This is the place (she speaks with an Irish accent)

Jos. I don't like it.

Hel. I don't give a damn what you like. When I find a place for us to live I have to consider something
far more important than yours or anybody's, feelings – the rent! It's all I can afford.

Jos. You can't afford something better than this old ruin.

Hel. Listen! I'm the sole financial support of our little combination and until that happy day when you
contribute to the family income you'll leave disposal of the said income to me –

Jos. I hate living off your immoral earnings!

Hel. Allright – but you wouldn't enjoy starving. And what is so wrong with this flat? We’ve seen worse.
The furnishings are lousy enough it's true – (opens a window) and the outlook isn’t too inspiring –
there's no heating and we share a bathroom with the community but otherwise it's pleasant – it'll do
for two weary, seasoned old Travelers like ourselves. Have you seen my glasses?

Jos. Have you lost them?

Hel. I never lose things – it's just that I can never find anything. Pass me that bottle, Jo – it's in the
brown bag.

Jos. If you want it you can get it yourself. Why should I run around after you?

Hel. Children owe their parents these little attentions.

Jess. I don't owe you a thing.

Hel. Except respect – and I won't be getting any of that from you. (gets a bottle of Cheap whiskey
from one of the bags and taking a glass from her pocket pours herself a drink)

Jos. That's all you're fit for. Drink! Drink! Drink! Your throat is like a drain – everything goes gurgling
down it. What is that?

Hel. cheap whiskey.

Jos. It's a wonder your not sick.

Hel. This stuff is my only comfort – where others pray for their daily bread I pray for my daily swallow
– why don't you have some? It'll warm you up.

Jos. We need warming up in here too. It's like a tomb – so cold. Is that the bedroom?

Hel. It is.

Jos. Sharing the bedroom again, I suppose?

Hel. Of course – you know I can't bear to be parted from you for a single moment.

Jos. I'd love a bedroom of my own. Isn't there a fire in this place, Helen?

Hel. Yes – a gas propelled thing – somewhere in the bedroom. But I can't make it work. The landlady
did show me how it's done but you know what I am – I forget things. Have a glass of this if you're so
cold.

Jos. I don’t think I'll like it.

Hel. You haven't tasted it?

Jos. No.

Hel. Then get it down you right away – it must never be said that a daughter of mine failed to uphold
the family traditions which are closest and dearest to my heart. Come on – drink.

Jos. (drinking doubtfully) I don't like the flavour.

Hel. Whiskey isn't usually prescribed for its particular flavour. There is little consolation in that.

Jos. And what do you need consoling about?

Hel. If I drink long and hard enough something always turns up. You surely don't imagine people
swallow this filth for pleasure? I’ve caught a terrible cold from somebody (sneezes violently). Have
you got a clean hanky – mine’s soaking wet – I've done nothing but dab at this running nose all day.
Jos. Have this – it's clean.

Hel. Just look at that light. Isn't it awful? I hate to see an unshaded electric light bulb dangling from
the ceiling like that – I'll wrap a scarf around it for tonight (gets a chair and, placing it beneath the
light, stand's on it – removing the scarf from her neck and attempting to wrap it around the light. In so
doing she burns her hand and almost falls from the chair). Christ! it's hot.

Jos. Leave the light alone. You can buy a proper shade tomorrow.

Hel. If we live that long – and there's no reason why we should – so – (pouring another drink) – I
might as well put this little lot in a safe place.

Jos. You'll never go to heaven.

Hel. Darling if I ever get within smelling distance of Heaven I'll be a victim of the most wretched
circumstances. (she walks critically around the room – taking in its complete shabbiness.) This flat is
a bit of a mess, isn't it? Why do you let me drag you from one nasty little flea-pit to another?

Jos. No one'll ever know – you don't treat me with half the consideration I deserve. Shall I make a
drink?

Hel. Do what you like – I feel rotten.

Jos. This is this the kitchen?

Hel. Straight through – a lovely place – (Jo. enters.) – the only redeeming feature in this entire lodging
house. I hope you're going to make full use of it?

Jos. (reappearing) There’s a gas ring in here – how do I light it?

Hel. Match! (hands for a box of matches.)

Jos. Which knob do I turn?

Hel. Turn 'em all – you're bound to find the right one sooner or later. Are you still set on leaving
school at Christmas?
Jos. Yes.
Hel. Good. It's about time you finished with all that blackboard stuff. Have you decided what you're
going to do?
Jos. No. The only thing I'm certain of is this. As soon as I get a bit of money in my pocket I'm off! Out
of your sight!
Hel. Very wise too. Get right out of my sight.
Jos. I can't think of any job I'd like to do, Helen. I've never been fond of hard work. Just like you.
Hel. Being a woman you are always spared the unfortunate necessity of earning a living – you've
reached the age when marriage rears its ugly head.
Jos. I'm not getting married. I'm too young and beautiful for that.
Hel. That’s a good girl. Leave men alone. They're the ruination of women.
Jos. They've certainly ruined you.
Hel. True – but I'm not without a few similar victories myself. One husband –
Jos. Was that enough?
Hel. It was more than enough. When I think of my husband and your father it makes me wonder why I
ever bothered.
Jos. What was your husband like?
Hel. He was a rat!
Jos. You married him.
Hel. Because I had nothing better to do. And then he divorced me – that was your fault.
Jos. I agree with him. If I was a man and my wife had a baby that wasn't mine I'd sling her out.
Hel. Would you? It's a funny thing – but I wouldn't. Still – why should we worry?
Jos. Where's the bathroom?
Hel. Why?
Jos. I want to have a bath.
Hel. Is it necessary for you to bathe so often?
Jos. I'm not like you – I don't wait until it becomes necessary before I have a good wash.
Hel. Well, you'll find our communal wash-house down at the end of the passage – it's hidden away in
a sort of recess along the corridor.
Jos. (opening the door and peering out into darkness) It’s dark out there – I'll have a bath in the
morning.
Hel. Are you afraid of the dark?
Jos. You know I'm afraid of the dark.
Hel. You should try not to be afraid of the dark.
Jos. I do try not to be afraid of the dark.
Hel. And yet you're still afraid of the dark?
Jos. I'm still afraid of the dark.
Hel. Then you must try harder.
Jos. I'll do that.
Hel. My poor old nose – it feels quite raw – I've had to wipe it so much.
Jos. Who lives here besides us? Any young people.
Hel. I did see a boy hanging about when I called in last week. A very handsome, long-legged piece –
just the way I like them – but whether he was a permanent fixture around here I don't know. He would
have just done for you – have you ever had a boy-friend, Jo?
Jos. No. I used to like one of your fancy men though – I thought I was in love with him – I thought he
was the only man I'd ever love in my life and then he ran off with that woman – I cried myself to sleep
for weeks – it's a funny thing though, Helen, because the next time I saw him I couldn't understand
why I'd ever thought he was so marvelous. He's awful-looking – thin – and he's got a weak chin – and
pimples – and a funny nose.
Hel. It wasn't his funny nose I was interested in. (Jo opens the window) Close that window.
Jos. I can smell the river – what's that big place over there?
Hel. The slaughterhouse.
Jos. Slaughterhouse?
Hel. You know – where all the cows, sheep and pigs go in and where all the beef, pork and mutton
comes out.
Jos. I wonder what it's like in summer? Does it smell?
Hel. This whole city smells. Close the window. This room's cold enough without you offering shelter to
the four winds.
Jos. Helen! Stop sniffing! It sounds horrible!
Hel. Can I help it?
Jos. I must unpack these bulbs. Where can I put them? (Opens wooden crate and takes out a couple
of boxes of bulbs.)
Hel. Don't encourage me to make a rude and vulgar suggestion.
Jos. I've got to put them in a cool, dark place.
Hel. We all end up in a cool, dark place sooner or later.
Jos. I hope they bloom allright – every time I try to fix a window-box up nothing grows in it.
Hel. Why do you bother?
Jos. It's nice to see a few flowers. I love flowers.
Hel. Where did you get these bulbs from?
Jos. I took them from the park – the gardener had just planted about two hundred of them so I didn't
think he'd miss half a dozen.
Hel. That's the way to do things – see it – take it! If you spent as much time and energy on me as you
do on these little fiddling bits of greenery I'd be a damn sight better off. See if that kettle's boiled yet.
Jos. See yourself.
HeI. Do everything myself! OH! My head! I wonder if I've got any asprin left? (rummages through her
handbag) No. Not one – Huh! It seems I’ll have to suffer unrequited.
Jos. I dreamt about you on the train, Helen.
Hel. You were lucky to be able to sleep. I couldn't. I didn't realise this city was so big. You've got a
shocking journey each morning to go to reach school, Jo. Everyday– it must be miles, and miles.
Jos. Not for much longer.
Hel. Can't you think of any job you'd like to do?
Jos. There's nothing I'm good at.
Hel. I remember my first job. Wonderful it was. Playing the piano in a tatty little pub – a fully licensed
pub – singing and dancing nightly – concerts weekly – good beer and nice bar-maids.
Jos. And what would you say if I did something like that?
Hel. It's your life. In my opinion it's the duty of every man and woman to ruin their own lives without
interference from others – who think they can make a better job of it. I mean – self-destruction is
such very personal matter. Consider the integrity with which I have supervised my own downfall.
Jos. Yes – you made a good job of that.
Hel. Always give praise where praise is due. Tell me about this dream you had – this dream of me.
Jos. It was nothing much. I was standing in a garden and there were some policemen digging – and
guess what they found – planted underneath a rose bush?
Hel. Me!
Jos. You. What would we do, Helen, if we ran out of cemetery space in this country?
Hel. Ah well – in that event I fear we should have to eat our dead.
Jos. What poor taste.
Hel. Get that coffee, Jo – just do me a favour, this once.
Jos. Allright. (carries bulbs into kitchen)
Hel. I'll clear some of this junk away – (carries a case into the bedroom)
Jos. Helen! (she reappears)
Hel. What? (coming out of bedroom)
Jos. (taking a small, flat parcel from her coat pocket) There's something for you.
Hel. What is it?
Jos. A birthday present.
Hel. Birthday! My birthday – now let's see what it is you've brought to commemorate that unparalleled
event. (unwraps the parcel and reveals a small, framed sketch) Did you do this?
Jos. I drew it – a boy at school framed it.
Hel. I thought you said you weren't good at anything. This is good.
Jos. It's only a drawing.
Hel. What do they say about your drawing at school?
Jos. I'm never at one school long enough for them to notice anything remarkable about me.
Hel. And that's my fault!
Jos. You will wander about the country.
Hel. It's the gypsy in my soul. Have you got anything else I can look at – drawings? Sketches?
Paintings – whatever you call ‘em?
Jos. There's a book somewhere. In my case I think. Shall I get it?
Hel. Yes – I didn't realise I had such a talented young daughter.
Jos. I'm not that talented – I'm geniused. (enters bedroom)
Hel. I'll hang this on the wall – where?– where will it be noticeable? (removes the 'Monarch of the
Glen' and puts Jo’s sketch of a small colt in its place) There! (Jo comes in with a sketching block.)
Jos. Look through this. It isn't much. All self-portraits.
Hel. All self-portraits – well – that must be so rewarding. (glances through the book) Have you ever
thought of going to a proper art school and getting a proper training?
Jos. It's too late.
Hel. I'll pay. You're not stupid – you'll soon learn.
Jos. I've had enough of school. Too many schools and too many different faces.
Hel. You're wasting yourself.
Joa. So long as I don't waste anyone else.
Hel. But listen – you're –
Jos. Why are you so suddenly interested in me? You've never cared much about what I was doing –
what I was trying to do or what I'd done.
Hel. I know – I'm a cruel, neglectful woman.
Jos. Why did we come here? There was no need for us to move out of the other place.
Hel. I was fed up with the other place.
Jos. And what about me? Don't you think I get fed up with all this flitting around?
Hel. I don't care about you – it's time you realised that.
Jos. You care for nothing except yourself. I'm going to bed. Where are my pyjamas? (Flings clothes
out of a suitcase)
Hel. Don't throw clothes everywhere. Take this case into the bedroom. The place is untidy enough.
Jos. Shut up. That's all we do – live out of a travelling bag.
Hel. Don't worry. Soon you'll be a working, independent woman and free to go where you please.
Jos. The sooner the better. I'm sick of you. You've made my life a misery. Stop sneezing your flu
bugs all over me! I don't want to catch your cold.
HeI. OH! You needn't worry – I'm very particular about whom I infect.
Jos. You can get your own coffee too. I don't see why I should do anything for you – you never do
anything for me.
Hel. (dragging the small sketch from the wall and throwing it onto the floor). I won't ask you to do
anything in future. Take your paltry little present back. Do you think I want to be reminded annually of
my own birth? Isn’t it enough that I can’t forget yours? Go to bed – go on – out of my sight.
(She thrusts Jo into the bedroom and bangs the door. A man – tall, dark and wearing full evening
dress enters. Over his left eye he wears a black patch. Jo bangs on the door but Helen won't let her
out. The man knocks on the front door – this isn't visible to the audience. When he receives no reply –
because of Jo's violent attack on the bedroom door – he walks in. Helen see's him with surprise.) And
what do you want?
Peter Smith. I came to see how you are settling down in your new headquarters. Just passing by,
you know. I'm on my way home from a friend’s birthday party.
Hel. A female friend?
Pet. Very much so. What have you got locked up there?
Hel. My daughter. (Jo comes out of the bedroom) Now you keep quiet.
Jos. Who is this man?
Hel. This man is mine.
Jos. What's your name?
Pet. Peter Smith.
Jos. My mother always tells me to distrust men calling themselves Smith.
Hel. Isn't she a nuisance! – go into the kitchen, Jo – make that coffee – and make it properly now
we've got a visitor.
Jos. Does he want to stay for a drink?
Pet. There are certain Semitic strains in my crossbred soul which render me incapable of refusing
anything offered free.
Jos. Jewish!
Pet. Jewish – with English undercurrents.
HeI. The kitchen –
Job. The kitchen. She orders me about like a little servant girl – (exit)
Hel. Why did you come here?
Pet. I came for you. You certainly chose a marvelous section of town to live in, Helen. (goes to the
window) The whole district seems to be a monument erected to the graceless art of living. Every
building thrown up from the bilious pit of the town council’s stomach. And the river – what a truly rural
touch – ah! There's a boat – (A ship’s siren sounds bleakly.) – wonder where it's going?
Hel. I'm dying with a cold! Come away from that window. Why did you come?
Pet. Why not?
Hel. The way I'm feeling the only consolation I can find in your immediate presence is your ultimate
absence – the only thing that makes your arrival tolerable is the thought of your departure.
Pet. In that case I’ll stay.
Hel. I've finished with you. I told you – I can't carry on like I have been doing for much longer.
Pet. Why not?
Hel. Throw that cigar away – it looks bloody ridiculous stuck in your mouth like a horizontal chimney.
Pet. Your nose is damp – have my hanky!
Hel. Listen – I –
Pet. Give it a good blow.
Hel. Go away!
Pet. Blow your nose, woman. And blow a few of the cobwebs out of your head. You don’t want me
to go.
Hel. Yes I do. – I've renounced all men.
Pet. What a very unwise statement for a woman in your position to make. I have renounced all men
indeed! And what have we done to deserve this?
Hel. You've done nothing. It's what I've done.
Pet. But darling – you do it so well (Kiss) What's the matter?
Hel. I'm tired.
Pet. You're tired allright. You're tired of this little hit-and-run affair of ours. As tired as I am. I don't
want you the odd weekend and every bank holiday – I want you all the time – every night – every day.
Come on – I'll make an honest woman of you –
Hel. You'll do me that favour?
Pet. Yes – though I imagine you'll make a lousy wife.
Hel. I've proved my incapacity for marriage once.
Pet. Then we'll have another try.
Hel. I'm old enough to be your mother.
Pet. I prefer this mother and son relationship. (kiss)
Hel. You certainly liberate my maternal instincts.
Pet. You will marry me?
Hel. I can't.
Pet. Helen – you don't seem to realise what an opportunity I'm giving you. The world is littered with
women I've rejected – women still anxious to indulge my little vices and excuse my less seemly
virtues. Marry me! I'm a goodlooking – well – set up young man –
Hel. Are you serious?
Pet. I'm serious.
Hel. Very well. It’s a deal. (embrace.)
Pet. Good. (Jo comes in with a tray on which are set out various items – a coffee pot – two huge gaily
coloured beakers etc)
Jos. Here's the coffee – oh! Forgive me. I don't want to interrupt. I'm sorry the crockery isn’t very
elegant but it's all I can find. (she turns to enter the bedroom.)
Pet. Don't run away.
Jos. I'm going to bed. You two stay here and enjoy yourselves.
Hel. She's jealous – can't bear to see me being affectionate with anybody.
Jos. You've certainly never been affectionate with me. (Exits into bedroom)
Hel. There's a problem you didn’t think of when you decided to marty yourself to matrimony –
Josephine! My little girl!
Pet. She's old enough to take care of herself. And isn't it time her father kept her for a couple of
years?
Hel. Her father's dead.
Pet. OH! Well – there's a first time for everything. How long has he been in this unfortunate condition?
Hel. Years – years and years. We have terrible rows about this father of hers, Peter.
Pet. Tell me about him – I'm curious.
Hel. So is she. He was a country boy –
Pet. Irish?
Hel. Yes – Irish as I am. The village idiot! Can you believe it?
Pet. An idiot?
Hel. Not exactly an idiot, you know. He was just a – a little backward. Everybody used to laugh and
make fun of him. I often laughed myself but one day we were alone – he was supposed to work on
my husband’s farm – and I looked into his eyes – strange eyes, like Jo's. And that was that – it lasted
perhaps an hour or two – a frolic in the hay loft – and all because I had a husband who was scared
stiff of anything remotely described as sex. I was married to him for six months and we only used the
bed for sleeping. A very odd man that husband of mine – I thought I was in love with him. When we
first met I saw the sun shining out of his eyes – he was wonderful. He used to kiss me every now and
again – in a restrained sort of fashion, but I was young and thought he was anxious for my honour – it
wasn't until after we married that I realised how incapable he was of displaying any emotion –
physical emotion – he thought it was dirty! But the only dirt was in his mind. And Jo's father didn't
seem to have much of a mind – but he did have some notion as to what to do with his body in certain
circumstances – and now you know! She had a half-wit for a daddy and I took a half-wit for my lover.
But I'll tell you something – he was, in his nit-wit land better off than I've ever been. I often think
madmen look at the world through mad eyes and see everything for what it is – mad! We're all mad.
Born mad – we die mad but in between too many of us play a hectic game of lets pretend we're not
mad!
Pet. I know what you mean. Sometimes, when I worry about the chaotic state of the world, I wish I
wasn't so intelligent.
Hel. Have some coffee.
Pet. What about Jo?
Hel. She's old enough to know what she wants – if she thinks I'm running after her she's got another
think coming.
Pet. (Pouring the coffee out.) What sort of coffee is this anyway – it can hardly squeeze itself through
the spout.
Hel. She always does that – brews it as weak as she can because she knows I like it strong. It isn't
worth drinking. Leave it.
Pet. You should be in bed, Helen. You look quite pale and sickly.
Hel. Then you're going?
Pet. It isn't exactly convenient for me to stay.
Hel. No. Well, then –
Pet. When shall we get married? Make it soon. There’s no reason why we should wait. Would you like
an engagement ring or do you think our courtship has passed the stage of symbolism?
Hel. I always accept the odd diamond ring with pleasure.
Pet. In another week or so it'll be Christmas. How about Christmas Eve?
Hel. Christmas Eve it is.
Pet. Have you taken anything for your cold?
Hel. There 's nothing for me to take.
Pet. Get Jo to make you a glass of hot milk – and lace it with whiskey – that's one way of getting well
which should appeal to you. (he knocks on the bedroom door and Jo. appears)
Jos. Well?
Pet. Your mother isn't feeling too good –
Jos. I know – she can't suffer in silence.
Hel. And why should I? When I suffer do you think I want my courage to pass unnoticed? No – when I
suffer the world suffers with me.
Jos. Do you want me to get you something?
Pet. Yes – make her a hot drink.
Jos. I made some coffee.
Pet. Is that what it was?
Jos. What sort of a cigar is that?
Pet. Havana.
Jos. I love the smell.
Pet. Beautiful – rich, dark tobacco rolled on the thigh of a coal black mammy.
Jos. Is that how they're made?
Hel. Of course it is.
Jos. Then I'll never smoke one.
Pet. Why not?
Jos. You never know where a coal black mammy's thigh has been.
Pet. One can speculate!
Jos. Why do you wear that black patch over your eye?
Hel. He lost an eye during the war.
Jos. Did you? And is there just a hole where it should be?
Pet. Just a hole – like a spy-hole –
Jos. Let me see. I've never met anybody who mislaid an eye before.
Hel. There's nothing to see.
Jos. Do you wear that patch when you go to bed?
Pet. That's something about which I don't care to make a public statement.
Jos. Tell me.
Pet. No – but if you really want to know whether I wear this patch in bed or not, there, is one sure and
highly recommended way for a young lady, as pretty as yourself, to find out.
Jos. What are you suggesting?
Hel. Jo – for heaven’s sake, stop chirping.
Jos. Are you married?
Pet. You can set your mind at ease. I'm not married.
Hel. He's still available – but only just.
Jos. I bet you've got thousands of girl friends.
Pet. I'm a devil with the women.
Jos. Like my mother is with the men.
Pet. Is she a devil with the men – are you Helen?
Hel. I don’t consider myself a slouch.
Pet. I'll be calling here again tomorrow. Don't forget me.
Jos. Shall I withdraw while you kiss her goodnight?
Hel. I'll kiss you goodnight in a minute – and it really will be goodnight!
Pet. Now you must take care of your mother, Jo, while she's ailing. You know how delicate these
fragile old lady's are. (exit)
Jos. Shall I get you a cup of hot milk?
Hel. No
Jos. I'm only trying to help.
Hel. When I want your help I'll ask for it.
Jos. You are a misery!
Hel. Yes. I feel like misery.
Jos. Anyway – I don't care whether you've got a cold – I hope it's something worse – something fatal.
Hel. Is the bed warm?
Jos. No. It's like a coffin – only not half as comfortable.
Hel. I wish we had a hot water bottle – or an electric blanket.
Jos. You should have asked him to stay the night – it wouldn't be the first time I've been thrown out of
my bed to make room for one of your –
Hel. Shut up. Now turn the light out – and we'll get to bed. (Jo. switches off the light – stage in
darkness.)
Jos. This room looks nice in the dark.
Hel. Everything looks nice in the dark. I love it – can't understand why you're so scared of it.
Jos. I'm not frightened of the darkness outside – it's just the darkness inside houses that I don't like.
Hel. Come on – what would you do if I told you I was thinking of getting married again?
Jos. I'd have you locked up in an institution straight away
Hel. Come on. (They enter bedroom.)

CURTAIN.

ACT ONE
Scene II
Time – a week later. Early evening. Jo stands beneath the street lamp with a young sailor. He is tall –
and coloured. Under his arm he carries Jo's books – she is just returning from school. Inside the flat
Helen lies on the couch – draped in a dressing gown and reading the paper.

Jos. I'll go in now – and thanks for carrying my books.

Boy. It’s allright. Were you surprised to see me waiting for you outside school?
Jos. Not really.
Bey. Are you glad I came?
Jos. Yes.
Bey. So am I.
Jos. I'd better go in.
Boy. Not yet. Stay here a bit longer.
Jos. Allright. Doesn't it go dark early now – I like winter. I like it better than any of the other seasons.
Boy. I like it too – when it goes dark so early it gives you more time for – (tries to kiss her)
Jos. Don't start that. You're always doing it.
Boy. You like it.
Jos. I know but – well – I don't want you to do it all the time.
Boy. Frightened some one'll see us?
Jos. I don't care.
Boy. Say that again.
Jos. I don't care.
Boy. You mean it too – you don't care – huh! you 're the first girl I've ever met who didn't care. I want
to ask you something. Now I'm a man of few words – will you marry me?
Jos. Well – (hesitates) – I'm a girl of few words – I won't marry you but you've talked me into it.
Boy. How old are you?
Jos. Eighteen.
Boy. And you really will marry me?
Jos. I said so – you shouldn't have asked if you were only kidding me up.
Boy. Hey! I wasn't kidding. I thought you were. Do you really mean it – you'll marry me.
Jos. I love you.
Boy. How do you know?
Jos. I don't know – I don't know why I love you but I do.
Boy. (swinging her delightedly round) I adore you!
Jos. So do I – I can’t resist myself.
Boy. Here – I've got a ring for you – put it on. I hope it fits. In the shop this morning I couldn't
remember what sort of hands you've got – small hands, long hands – or what – I had to stand there
like a clown trying to remember what they felt like. (kisses her hands) What will your mother say?
Jos. She'll probably laugh.
Boy. Is that all? Doesn't she care who or what her daughter marries?
Jos. She isn't marrying you – I am – it's nothing to do with her at all.
Boy. She hasn't seen me.
Jos. And when she does what happens – what will she see? A perfectly normal boy –
Boy. Don't kid yourself – she'll see a coloured boy.
Jos. No – not my mother. Whatever else she might be she isn't colour conscious – don't worry about
your colour – I like it. I like your teeth.
Boy. So long as you like it – that's all that matters. When shall we get married – my next leave?
Jos. We may as well – give us a chance to save some money.
Boy. I finish with the navy in six months, Jo –
Jos. Good! Sailors wives must be very lonely. This ring is too big, look – it slides about – I'll lose it.
And I couldn't wear it anyway – not while I'm still at school. Let’s go all romantic – see – have you got
a piece of string?
Boy. Are you going to tie it round your neck?
Jos. Yes – have you got some string? (he turns out his pockets) Don't boys carry some trash about
with them – what do you do with these bits and pieces – look – a safety pin – elastic bands – a screw
– did that drop out of your head? Three handkerchiefs – what’s that?
Boy. It's my car – I'll show you – see how small it is? And yet it still runs – (sends the toy car across
the floor) – German – I bought it when I was in Berlin last year.
Jos. Germans make marvelous toys – I like this little car. Can I keep it?
Boy. Go on – I suppose you'll soon own everything that's mine – my body and my soul.
Jos. Thanks. Will that piece of string go round my neck?
Boy. Of course. Your neck's only a thin little thing. I could break it in two – (places his hands around
her neck) Isn't your skin smooth –
Jos. It's my schoolgirl complexion. Tie this – (he ties the string and the ring around her neck) – thanks
– now I'll tuck it out of sight. I don't want my mother to see it yet. She'd only make fun of me. When I
leave school tomorrow I start a part-time job – did I tell you about it?
Boy. The job in the bar?
Jos. Yes. And then as soon as I get a full-time job I'm on myown – I'm leaving Helen and living in a
room somewhere.
Boy. I've got an idea – my mate got married on his last leave – and his wife, Alma, could do with
some company while he's away. You could stay with her. They have a great big flat – shall I ask her
about it?
Jos. Yes.
Boy. You'll like Alma. – she's nice.
Jos. You're nice.
Boy. I'm a damn fine chap.
Jos. Did your ancestors come from Africa?
Boy. From darkest Africa? No – at least not my immediate ancestors – we come from Cardif.
Jos. Wales!
Boy. Yes – Wales – are you disappointed? Were you hoping to marry a man whose parents beat the
tom-toms in the black forests of some lost continent?
Jos. I don't suppose it matters.
Boy. OH! I wish I wasn't in the navy – we won't have much time together – and six months seems like
six years.
Jos. We can't be together all the time and all the time there is wouldn't be enough.
Boy. I don't know – it's sad when you think. Marriage – here I am – one minute a happy young man
without a care in the world – the next – inveigled into the barbaric cult of matrimony.
Jos. Inveigled! You almost begged me to marry you.
Boy. You led me on – after all we men are trusting souls – very impressionable – you shouldn't have
taken me down to that deserted football field.
Jos. I didn't even know the football field existed until you took me there – and it just shows how often
you must have been there too – you certainly know where all the best spots are. I won't go down
there again. It's too quiet – anything could happen to a girl.
Boy. It most did too. You shameless Jezebel woman.
Jos. That’s you taking advantage of my innocence.
Boy. I didn't take full advantage – I have scruples.
Jos. You would have done – you'd have gone as far as I would have let you – and no scruples would
have stood in your way.
Boy. Now you enjoyed it as much as I did.
Jos. Shut up! This is the sort of conversation that can colour a young girl’s mind.
Boy. Women never have young minds – they're born three thousand years old.
Jes. Sometimes you look three thousand years old too. Your eyes – I don't care where you were born
– there's still a bit of jungle in you somewhere.
Boy. OH! I'm a beast of a man at times.
Jos. I'd better go in now – get something to eat.
Boy. You'll have to stop eating soon, Jo – when you start saving up to marry me – you won't have to
waste your money on clothes and makeup.
Jos. I need some clothes – I've only got this one coat. Every time I've been out with you I've had to
wear it – and I have to wear it for school too – I do feel a mess!
Boy. You look allright to me. I can't see you tonight – I have work to do.
Jos. What sort of work?
Boy. very strenuous – it involves a lot of walking and –
Jos. And a lot of walking makes you thirsty – I know. You're going drinking.
Boy. It's one of the lads birthday – but I'll see you tomorrow?
Jos. Yes – lets spend the whole day together. I won't bother going to school. Meet me down by that
ladies hairdressing place –
Boy. The place that smells of cooking hair?
Jos. Yes – about ten o'clock.
Boy. Okay – anything you say – you're the boss.
Jos. Goodnight.
Boy. Aren't you going to kiss me?
Jos. Need you ask – (kiss) – I like kissing you – goodnight.
Boy. Goodnight –
Jos. Dream of me.
Boy. I dreamt about you last night – and fell out of bed twice.
Jos. You're in a bad way.
Boy. OH! You'd never believe it. I'll be seeing you –
Jos. Goodnight. (He walks off – she enters the flat. Helen looks up from her paper.)
Hel. And where have you been? It’s a bit late for you to be coming home from school.
Jos. (picking up a magazine and flicking through it absently) Yes – I met a friend.
Hel. He certainly knows how to put stars in your eyes.
Jos. What makes you think it's a he?
Hel. Well I certainly hope it isn't a she who makes you walk around in this enraptured fashion.
Jos. He's a sailor.
Hel. I hope you exercise prudent control over his nautical ardour.
Jos. He's lovely.
Hel. Is he?
Jos. He's got beautiful brown eyes – and gorgeous curly hair –
HeI. Is he tall?
Jos. Very tall.
Hel. How old is he?
Jos. Twenty-two.
Hel. Is the navy his career or is he doing his national service?
Jos. National service –
Hel. What does he do in civilian life?
Jos. He 's a nurse.
Hel. A nurse – in a hospital?
Jos. Where else do they have nurses?
Hel. A male nurse, hey! That's interesting.
Jos. Will you have a look in that paper, Helen, and see what's on at the pictures tomorrow night?
Hel. (glancing through the advertisement column) OH! let me see – there's nothing here that I'd
recommend.
Jos. You never go to the pictures.
Hel. I used to – but the cinema has become more and more like the theatre – everything seems to be
a matter of mauling and bawling – just look at that advertisement. It's pornographic – in my opinion
such a frank and open display of the female form can only induce little boys of all ages to add vulgar
comments in pencil. What sort of an inflated woman is it? Look! Bosom – bosom – bosom and more
bosom. She has an amplitude of bosom! I bet every inch of her chest is worth its weight in gold. Let
me have a look at you – I wonder if I could turn you into a mountain of voluptuous temptation?
Jos. Why?
Hel. I'd put you on the films.
Jos. I’d sooner you put me on the streets.
Hel. I might do that yet.
Jos. Where did this expensive magazine come from?
Hel. The woman next door gave it to me.
Jos. I didn't think you'd bought it.
Hel. Why buy when it’s cheaper to borrow?
Jos. What day was I born on?
Hel. I don't know.
Jos. You should remember such an important event.
Hel. Why?
Jos. It says here (reads from mag.) that Sheik Ahmed – something I can't pronounce – descendant of
thirty three generations of mystics – and one time Sheik of an Arabian monastic order, which studied
the occult sciences and Oriental philosophy – will, free of all charge, but only on receipt of a small
donation to his fund for tho furtherance of Oriental research, draw up for you a complete astrological
analysis of your character and destiny.
Hel. Let me see – is that his photograph? He looks like a dirty little spiv.
Jos. He's a venerable sage –
Hel. Perhaps but I've always noticed that venerable sages look like dirty little spivs –
Astro-analysis! This foretelling the future business makes me blink – believe me, Jo – your future
doesn't lie within the hands of the stars – we’re all at the steering wheel of our own destinies –
careening along like drunken drivers. I'm going to get married. (the news is received in silence) I'm
going to get married?
Jos. Yes – I heard the first time. What do you want me to do? – laugh and throw pennies? Is it that
Peter Smith?
He!. He is the lucky man.
Jos. You're centuries older than him.
Hel. Ten years.
Jos. What use can a woman of that age be to anybody?
Hel. I wish you wouldn't talk about me as if I'm an impotent, shriveled old woman without a clue left in
her head.
Jos. You're not exactly a child bride.
Hel.. He doesn’t want to marry a child.
Jos. Just think of it – you're forty years old – I hope to be dead before I reach that age. You've been
living for forty years.
He!. Yes – it must be a biological phenomena.
Jos. You don't look forty – you look a sort of a badly preserved sixty –
Hel. (sound of a knock on door) Let Peter in –
Jos. Is he coming?
Hel. I may as well do it myself. Come in, my little treasure. (Peter enters) Sit down – lie down – you
look wonderful – every seductive inch of you looks wonderful.
Pet. Hallo, Jo?
Jos. Hallo – mad-head!
Hel. Mad-head – you call him a mad-head.
Pet. Then you know about –
Jos. Marrying her – yes. I know. You must be out of your mind.
Pet. All things are possible. Helen – I've been thinking about Jo and what she's going to do over
Christmas.
Hel. She's staying here.
Pet. On her own?
Hel. OH! She's got herself a boyfriend – an admiral.
Pet. What a pity. I was thinking of fixing you up with my young brother. He knows how to pick his
women – but – if you're already spoken for -
Jos. I'm sorry.
Pet. Tell me about this boy.
Jos. No – shut up – you're embarrassing me.
Pet. She's blushing.
Hel. I hope it isn't shame.
Jos. Were you in the navy?
Pet. Army.
Jos. An officer?
Pet. A private.
Jos. Is that all – I'd have thought you would have been an officer or somebody very important.
Pet. No – no – the general got all the medals but the army did all the fighting – that's usually the case.
A general without an army wouldn't be much use.
Jos. Have you got any medals?
Pet. Yes – campaign medals – just to prove I was there but I was never a death or glory boy.
Jos. I think medals are ridiculous anyway.
Hel. You want a drink, Peter?
Pet. Please.
Hel. Here – and hurry up with the glass – I want to use it.
Jos. Did you bring these chocolates for Helen, Peter?
Pet. Yes.
Jos. Helen can't eat anything sweet and delicious. She's got to watch her figure.
Hel. Nothing of the kind. My figure hasn't altered since I was eighteen.
Jos. It hasn't?
Hel. Not an inch.
Jos. I hope I'm luckier than you've been.
Hel. Do you see anything objectionable in my figure, Peter?
Pet. No – no – I find the whole thing most agreeable.
Jos. You've got to say that – you're marrying it.
Hel. You shouldn't be eating all those chocolates either. She’s guzzling them down and she knows
they always bring her out in spots, and minor putrid protuberances.
Jos. I can't resist chocolates – and my face isn't so bad. It's quite clear now – no spots anywhere.
Pet. You should eat plenty of fresh green vegetables and fruit. That'll clear your bloodstream.
Jos. I eat pounds of fresh vegetables and fruit.
Pet. And you still suffer with spots?
Jos. I still suffer with spots.
Pet. Then you're not eating enough green vegetables and fruit. You're complexion isn't all that bad. I
can only see two minor eruptions.
Jos. Don't peer at me like that. (she strikes him)
Hel. Josephine – if anybody is going to strike my future husband it'll be me.
Pet. Don't knock me about, Jo. (he grabs her)
Jos. Let go of me – I didn't mean to hurt you.
Pet. Now sit still and behave – (he lets go of her)
Jos. (she slaps him across the face) I'm sorry – that was entirely accidental.
Hel. Leave him alone, Jo – he doesn't want to be bothered with you.
Jos. Do I bother you, Mr. Smith?
Pet. Ask me again – when we're alone.
Hel. Give me a cigarette, Peter – thanks – have you got a job yet, lady?
Jos. A part-time affair – I'm working in a bar – or going to – after Christmas.
Hel. What sort of a bar?
Jos. The sort you're always propping up.
Hel. You're not old enough to work in a place like that.
Jos. I'm eighteen.
Hel. Since when?
Jos. It was my birthday yesterday.
Hel. Many happy returns.
Jos. Thanks.
Hel. So you've been called to the bar, hey! That is gratifying. I'm glad to see a daughter of mine
devoting her time and energies to such a very necessary social service.
Pet. You must have an acute social conscience, Jo. (Jo enters the bedroom.)
Jos. I’m always thinking of others.
Hel. The best thing you can do is to think of yourself. Eat, drink and be merry – tomorrow we might
all be dead.
Pet. I always find that to be a mistaken policy, Helen. Whenever I eat, drink and make merry I usually
live to regret it. (Jo enters the bedroom)
Hel. Now where's she off to?
Pet. Do you think she minds us getting married?
Hel. She's probably as jealous as hell’s fury. DO YOU care?
Pet. I don't care for much other than myself and you.
Hel. (as Jo enters with an armful of books) Moving out already?
Jos. I've got to sort these books – see which are mine and which belong to school.
Hel. (reading a few titles) Selected Nursery Rhymes – Grimm's Fairy Tales Hans Anderson's fairy
Tales – Pinocchio – you certainly go in for the more advanced type of literature. And what's this –
The Holy Bible!
Jos. Have you ever read it – it's good.
Hel. Yes – it's good allright – for the occasional laugh.
Pet. You don't believe it then?
Hel. I wouldn't be quite so definite as to say I don’t believe it. The extent of my credulity largely
depends on the extent of my alcoholic intake.
Jo. I'll never carry all these books to school.
Hel. Take them in relays – some tomorrow –
Jos. I'm not going to school tomorrow.
Pet. She's going courting.
Hel. Are you?
Jos. Well why not? I finish school on Christmas Eve.
Hel. You're leaving one school to enroll in another.
Pet. But never mind – you'll enjoy it.
Hel. I'm just going to change – excuse me – I won’t be long. (exit into bedroom)
Pet. There's a photograph of the house I've bought, Jo – like it? (he takes a photo from his wallet)
Jos. Is it white?
Pet. Dazzling white. And look at that garden.
Jos. It's like a park –
Pet. And you should see the one at the back – and there's a tennis court – and a swimming pool –
you'll have to come and stay with us when we're married, Jo – there's a little room right at the top –
there, you can just see the window – it'll just suit you.
Jos. I've always wanted a room of my own – show me some more of your photograph's, Peter –
you've got a lot in your wallet – I saw them.
Pet. That's a snapshot of my brother – my mother – my father – the rest are –
Jos. Women?
Pet. Women! My whole past.
Jos. Show me.
Pet. I don't want your mother to see – go on, then.
Jos. What 's that?
Pet. A charming young lady.
Jos. She isn't charming. She's awful – look at her eyes. They’re smothered in goo!
Pet. That’s the sort of thing your sex goes in for.
Jos. I don't. I let my natural beauty shine through –
Pet. It certainly shines through this nose of yours.
Jos. Don't you like shiny faces?
Pet. They look all right on sweet young things – but I don't go for sweet young things.
Jos. You like old ladies.
Pet. She isn't an old lady.
Jos. She will be soon.
Pet. That's love – it's a wild destructive thing – never know where it'll strike next. You don't like Helen,
do you?
Jos. She doesn't care much for me.
Pet. A pity – I would have liked to –
Jos. What?
Pet. Have you finished with these photographs?
Jos. Who is that glamorous person?
Pet. I don't name 'em – I number 'em. She is nice though.
Jos. Lovely – thin – but elegant.
Pet. Hasn't she got beautiful legs?
Jos. Not bad – I like her hair – all sleek –
Pet. Not like this brush of yours. Huh. It looks like a chrysanthemum. (Helen enters)
Hel. Have you got a cigarette, Peter?
Pet. You want one, Jo?
Hel. No –
Jos. Thank you –
Hel. Don't you think you've got too many bad habits Jo – without adding to your repertoire? Put that
cigarette out – smoking's a filthy, disgusting unclean habit – give me a light, Peter – thanks.
Jos. You smoke –
Hel. At my advanced age I can afford to indulge in filthy, unclean habits – it’s one of the things that
makes growing old worthwhile.
Pet. How old is this boy of yours, Jo?
Jos. Twenty-two.
Hel. Twenty-two – I can remember when I was twenty-two.
Jos. A phenomenal memory.
Pet. And you won't be spending Christmas with us, Jo?
Hel. Peter – please THINK OF ME. We'll be on our – if you'll not take exception to the phrase –
honeymoon. Leave her alone. Let her worry about herself.
Pet. You will have this boy anyway, Jo – so you won’t be too lonely.
Jos. You needn't worry – every year she runs off somewhere without me. I’m used to being on my
own.
Hel. It’s just as well.
Jos. Before you leave me forever will you buy me a new dress, Helen? I never have any new clothes
and it's Christmas.
Hel. I can't afford it.
Jos. You can.
Hel. I hardly have enough money to take care of my own comforts.
Pet. Here's some money, Jo – take it as a Christmas present.
Jos. Thank you! I can buy all sorts of things with this.
Hel. And the first thing you want to invest in is a good needle and thread. Do you know, every article
of her clothing seems to be held together by a safety pin or a knot – she isn't at all fastidious. If she
was ever knocked down by a bus on the public highway I'd be ashamed to have to claim her – she's
dressed in so many rags and tatters.
Jos. You never buy me any new clothes.
Hel. Clothes needn't be new – they can be clean and neat.
Jos. My clothes are clean!
Hel. Yes – yes – but they're anything but neat.
Jos. I think you're an awful woman. Why are you marrying this poor little man?
Hel. He has a walletful of reasons.
Jos. Yes – and I've seen them.
Pet. Where shall we go tonight?
Hel. We'll eat first.
Jos. I'm hungry too.
Hel. There's a tin of beans in the kitchen.
Jos. You should be preparing my meals like a proper mother.
Hel. I should do a lot of things. If you're too idle to get a meal ready for yourself you'd better cut out
eating food from your diet altogether.
Jos. That's a good idea – then, if I stopped eating, I'd develop one of these gorgeous model girl
figures.
Hel. The last model-girl I saw resembled a severe case of malnutrition. Goodnight. (Peter and Helen
exit)

End of scene
Curtain.

ACT ONE
Scene III
Time – Christmas Eve.
Scene – the same as before. The flat – empty as the curtain rises. Then Jo – in dressing gown –
comes in from the bedroom. She sniffs miserably and is obviously suffering from a cold – she
sneezes – switches on the radio – turns it off – opens the window – looks out – closes the window.
She wanders aimlessly about – She kicks irritably at the two suitcases that stand by the door. She
flings herself down on the divan and buries her head beneath the cushion. Helen comes in – dressed
for travelling and well-wrapped up against the cold winter.
Hel. You don't look very bright.
Jos. I don't feel well.
Hel. You've caught cold. It's cold out. I’ve just been on the phone – I don't like using the phone
downstairs. I'm sure the land-lady taps it. Now I'm in a mad rush.
Jos. Are you getting married in a church?
Hel. It is a church – one of the unrecognized branches of Christianity. Are you coming? To throw a
lucky horseshoe at us?
Jos. No.
Hel. Do I look all right?
Jos. That coat's gorgeous –
Hel. A wedding present from that spendthrift of a young man.
Jos. It looks warm.
Hel. You didn't tell me you were contemplating marriage?
Jos. What makes you say that?
Hel. (Pulling the string from around Jo's neck and displaying the ring) This –
Jos. I didn't want you to see it.
Hel. I saw it in bed last night – your own fault. Your pyjamas haven't got a button to their name.
Jos. Let go of the string, Helen – you'll choke me.
Hel. You're a stupid little thing!
Jos. Allright –
Hel. I should choke you – I should choke you to death. An engagement ring – you've scarcely known
the lad five minutes. Has he really asked you to marry him?
Jos. Yes – and I'm going to.
Hel. You seriously intend marrying him?
Jos. Yes.
Hel..Thank God! for the divorce courts. What sort of a marriage are you thinking of? I suppose this
boy is completely enthralled with the idea of being a husband – and you're totally unsuitable for
anybody's wife. Marriages are – well for a kid they're hell! You think you're in love? What do you
know – about love? How much love has there been in your life?
Jos. Ask yourself.
Hel. Ask myself. I can't answer anything – I'm like a deaf woman standing alone in the middle of a
silent universe waiting for a reply to questions for which there are no replies – and even if an answer
did come I wouldn't be able to hear it. Everything is a mistake – everything, Jo – and we've all got to
make mistakes but why can't you listen to me for once? It takes too long to learn from your own
mistakes – why not try to learn from mine?
Jos. Let me go.
Hel. (pulling cruelly on the string around Jo' s neck) You know where this ring should be – in the
ashcan with everything else.
Jos. Let me go –
Hel. I could kill you.
Jos. You're having a damn good try – (Helen releases her) You don't half knock me about! I hope you
suffer for it in heaven – or wherever it is you'll finish up.
Hel. I –
Jos. You ought to think about that, Helen – when you die you'll go whizzing straight down into hell!
Shoveling coal for ever more – and I’ll be glad.
Hel. The thought doesn't distress me. Churches are full of little people chanting and praising the
Almighty as an insurance policy against death. Everybody's so scared of death. I never have been.
Do you tremble in your boots at the thought?
Jos. I don't care.
Hel. It’s such a silly way of carrying on. A waste of fear – death’s so inevitable. Life comes – life goes
– I go – come – I go – simple. You make me heart-sick – when I'm out of your sight you’ll run off with
this sailor boy – I know you – it's just the sort of thing you'd do – and you’ll ruin yourself – it's no way
for a kid to carry on. Marriage at your age is a death – it kills something – but it never does the favour
of killing you. Dear God! Dear Father in Heaven! Why don't you act sensibly? You're young – why
don't you live while you have life?
Jos. I'll live my way just as you've always lived your way. Give me a hanky. This is your fault too –
breathing your flu germs all over me the other week.
Hel. You're hot. And your throat’s sore where I hurt it. Wipe your nose. (put’s her hand on her
daughter’s forehead)
Jos. Will you get me a drink of water, Helen?
Hel. I will – (gets a glass from kitchen) – here – I’ll have a good dose of this. (pours herself a drink)
Jos. You've emptied more bottles in the last two days than ever before. If you're not careful you'll wind
up an old, down and out boozer – knocking back the meths.
Hel. It'll never come to that. The Devil looks after his own.
Jos. Are you the devil's own?
Hel. Who knows? I suppose one of these days somebody'll claim my immortal remains but who – I
can't say. They'll probably put my soul up for auction – and the wear and tear imposed upon my soul
has greatly increased its market value.
Jos. Old Nick'll get you in the end.
Hel. Don't be too sure. Heaven must be seventy-five percent sinners – it must be populated with
every kind of pimp, prostitute, petty thief – politician and priest – every type of the demented – the
deranged the disillusioned – the disgraced – the distressed and the disgusted – I'll tell you – these
are the people who inherit the kingdom of heaven. These are the people who sit on the right hand of
God – that little tin god – sitting upon his little tin throne with his little tin crown on his little tin head.
Jos. I won’t worry about it.
Hel. Peter showed you the house the other night. Like it?
Jos. Yes.
Hel. I'll like it in a couple of years – when it isn't so new and clean – at the moment there isn't a line on
its face. – quite unblemished and unutterably dull. Not like my face – ah! now – every line on my face
tells a dirty story – and the line that represents you tells the dirtiest story of the lot.
Jos. I'd like to hear it.
Hel. No you wouldn't.
Jos. Tell me – it can't do me any harm.
Hel. No –
Jos. Was he horrible – so horrible that I can't even hear about him?
Hel. No – he was just a bit – stupid. Not too bright.
Jos. Serious?
Hel. Dead!
Jos. Liar!
Hel. There now –
Jos. Let me see your face – I can usually tell from your face whether you're being honest.
Hel. And am I being honest now?
Jos. Yes –
Hel. Now you know.
Jos. Was he an idiot?
Hal. A huge – great – shambling idiot.
Jos. Mad!
Hel. No – he was just a bit – retarded.
Jos. Why did you tell me this? Couldn't you have told me another story? Made something up instead
of –
Hel. We must respect the truth at all times.
Jos. Was he – like – a real idiot?
Hel. He was a proper idiot – but he was nice.
Jos. Where is he now – locked up?
Hel. He's dead.
Jos. Why?
Hel. Death does come to us all.
Jos. Isn't madness hereditary?
Hel. Invariably.
Jos. Invariably?
Hel. Unfortunately.
Jos. Am I mad?
Hel. Decide for yourself – (Peter knocks on the flat door) Let Peter in.
Jos. (opening the door like somebody in a trance) Come in.
Pet. You’re looking the picture of youthful exuberance.
Jos. Shut up.
Pet. You needn't snarl –
Hel. I shouldn't brood about what I've just told you Jo. Worse things have happened.
Jos. Peter – has she ever told you anything about my father?
Hel. Go on – tell her what I've told you – she doesn't believe me.
Jos. What tale did she tell you?
Pet. It seems – he was – a bit – backward.
Jos. Insane! A lunatic.
Hel. Doesn't she exaggerate?
Pet. You needn't worry Jo – I'm sure he wasn't as bad as all that.
Jos. How could she inflict a man like that on me for a father?
Hel. How did I know you were going to materialize out of a wild little love affair that lasted ten
minutes?
Jos. You should have thought –
Hel. AH! Well you know how Helen is – pleasure seeking – self centred, Helen!
Pet. Don't upset yourself, Jo.
Jos. Upset myself – I could kill myself! (exit into bedroom).
Pet. You shouldn't have told her.
Hel. She asked.
Pet. You could have made up some fairy-tale about him.
Hel. Look – I told her the truth – if she didn't like it it's a pity but she got it.
Pet. I'll take the cases down to the car –
Hel. Yes – and you'd better think carefully about the next hour or so – or else it might be too late to
prevent me from turning your life into a legal hell! (exit Peter. Helen knocks on the bedroom door.
She gets no answer – pouring a drink she knocks again.)
Hel. Jo! Come out! I haven't got time to waste – I want to talk to you. (Jo appears) Sit down. Are you
very sorry I told you the truth about him – he wasn't as bad as you imagine.
Jos. It doesn't matter – you said he was a half-wit. How could you go with a half-wit?
Hel. The face of a lover is a strange and changing thing.
Jos. I don't understand – I'm trying – but I just can't understand.
Hel. Do I? For one night – actually it was the afternoon – but for a couple of hours I loved him – I’d
never been with a man before – I was as pure and unsullied as I fondly, and perhaps mistakenly,
imagine you to be. It was the first time for me – as there'll be a first time for you. The first time – oh! –
yes – you can enjoy the second, the third, the fourth and fifth time but there's no time like the first
time. That's the moment that matters – it might last as long as the single fluttering of an eyelash but it
tastes in your mouth always. I've got to go now. Don't worry. And don't sulk. You're not sorry to see
me go. There – I'll kiss you goodbye – it's been a long time since I kissed you.
Jos. No.
Hel. No what?
Jos. I'm not sorry to see you go – but I'm not glad either.
Hel. You don't know what you want.
Jos. Yes I do – I've always known what I want.
Hel. And when you get what you want how will you know it is what you want – and will you want it?
Goodbye. I'll see you – (exit. As Helen leaves the house the sailor enters – they pass each other. She
leaves the stage and he knocks on the flat door)
Jos. Come in. OH! It would be you. Just when I'm feeling and looking a sight.
Boy. What's wrong?
Jos. I've got a cold.
Boy. (feeling her pulse) You're running a temperature. Was that your mother I saw outside – a tall
fancy bit?
Jos. That's her.
Boy. She got into a car with a man who looked like the Pirate King.
Jos. She's marrying him this morning.
Boy. And you're not going to wedding?
Jos. I’d sooner go to my own funeral.
Boy. Is this the kitchen? (enters kitchen)
Jos. Yes – what are you doing?
Boy. I'm fixing you a cold cure –
Jos. What is it?
Boy. Just a pill – and a glass of warm milk.
Jos. I’ll bet it’s an opium pellet – I’ve heard of men like you.
Boy. You've never heard of a man like me – I'm unique. (gives her a pill from a packet)
Jos. Do I just swallow it?
Boy. Wait for the hot drink – take it with that.
Jos. I feel awful.
Boy. Don't whine.
Jos. OH! (she retires behind an injured silence while he prepares a hot drink for her)
Boy. What's your mother’s name?
Jos. Helen.
Boy. She isn't bad.
Jos. Do you fancy her?
Boy. That isn't the sort of question you ask your fiance.
Jos. It doesn't really make much difference if you fancy her or not though, does it? After all – she's
gone now. You're too late.
Boy. I'll be gone soon too.
Jos. Take your coat off.
Boy. It isn't very warm in here – don’t you have a fire?
Jos. There is a gas fire but nobody knows how to use it.
Boy. I think you'd better go back to bed.
Jos. Do you think Helen's beautiful?
Boy. Yes –
Jos. Like me?
Boy. You don't look like her at all.
Jos. Good. I don't want anyone to see a resemblance between us. (He enters the kitchen and comes
back with a beaker of hot milk) What's that?
Boy. Hot milk.
Jos. I hate hot milk.
Boy. Get it down you – it's for your own good. I don't want to spend Christmas with a damp, sniveling,
sneezing wretch of a woman.
Jos. Do I just take one of these pills?
Boy. Yes – you may as well keep the packet – but don't take too many – it's dangerous.
Jos. Is it – really dangerous – dangerous enough to kill?
Boy. If you take enough – about six thousand pills a day – for the next seven hundred years.
Jos. l’ll have to be careful.
Boy. What a rotten view you've got from this window – I can see somebody's washing line – and
Good Lord! Look at the washing – it's dirty. I hate dirt. Can't stand it – and everything's so dirty round
here. Even the children seem filthy –
Jos. They never wash – it's the parent’s fault. There's a little lad next door and his hair! Honestly – it's
walking away – and his ears – he's a real mess. Never goes to school – plays on the front door steps
all day – I think he's a bit deficient –
Boy. If he's deficient he should be going to a proper school.
Jos. Yes – people like that shouldn't be let loose – think of the harm they do.
Boy. Will you drink that milk – don't play with it.
Jos. Do you treat your patients in hospital like this?
Boy. No – not unless they're particularly difficult – and you are – or could be if you were given half a
chance.
Jos. Come away from the window.
Boy. Put my ring on – your mother’s not here to laugh.
Jos. It's still round my neck – unfasten it. (he does so)
Boy. Your neck’s sore.
Jos. My mother nearly strangled me.
Bey. There – let me put it on – (places ring on her finger)
Jos. Did it cost very much?
Boy. I got it from Woolworths.
Jos. Woolworths best – I don't care – I'm not proud. It's the thought that matters and I wonder what
thought it was – in your black mind – that made you buy it?
Boy. I've got dishonourable intentions.
Jos. I'm so glad.
Boy. (embraces her) Are you?
Jos. Go away –
Boy. Do you object to the "gross clasps of a lascivious Moor?"
Jos. Who said that?
Boy. Shakespeare.
Jos. Oh! Him! he said everything, didn’t he.
Boy. Othello – let me be your Othello. and you my Desdemona.
Jos. Allright.
Boy. O! Ill-starred wench!
Jos. Will you stay here for Christmas?
Boy. If that's what you want.
Jos. It's what you want.
Boy. That's right.
Jos. Then stay.
Boy. You naughty woman.
Jos. I may as well be naughty while I have the chance. I'll probably never see you again, I know it. But
I don't care. Why should I? Stay with me now – it's enough. It's all I want and if you do come back I'll
still be here –
Boy. You think I'm only after one thing, don't you?
Jos. I'm sure you're only after one thing.
Boy. You're quite right – but I will come back. I love you
Jos. How can you say that?
Boy. How or why I say it I don't know – but whatever it means it’s true. I love you – and I will come
back –
Jos. We shouldn't be talking about coming back before you’ve gone. After this you mightn't want to
come back – because I'm not what anybody could call experienced in these little matters.
Boy. I am.
Jos. Can I leave this hot milk?
Boy. Very well – it would have done your cold good. But never mind – It'lI sweat it out of you –
Jos. (as he kisses her) I wish you wouldn't do that.
Boy. Why not?
Jos. I like it.

End of scene
Curtain.

End of Act One.

Act Two.
Scene I
Time – a few months later. Late evening.
Scene – the flat. Jo and an effeminate young boy enter. Between them they carry an assortment of
balloons – teddy bears etc. which they have won at the fair. Jo turns on the light – and collapses like
someone exhausted, on the couch.

Jos. Let me lie here and don't disturb me for a month. I'll never get up for work in the morning – I'll
have to be late. What are we going to do with these silly teddy bears and things? Geof?
Geo. Keep them – I’ll have this brown one to cuddle in bed.
Jos. I should be up for half-past seven tomorrow. I’ll never do it. Why should I anyway – why should I
slave away for somebody else?
Geo. Where do you work, Jo – I've known you all this time and I never thought of asking before?
Jos. I sell shoes in a shoe shop – it's deadly – but it is interesting sometimes. You can practically read
a person’s nature from the sort of shoes he buys – let me see the kind you like – soft soled suede –
you're the creepy type.
Geo. This is a big flat for one person.
Jos. I used to live here with my mother but she got married.
Geo. Does it cost much?
Jos. Enough – I couldn't afford to live here if I didn't work part-time in the bar.
Geo. My landlady has asked me to leave my room.
Jos. What have you been doing?
Geo. It isn't what I've done it's what she thinks I do – she doesn't like the way I walk.
Jos. Does she think you’re – you know –
Geo. Everybody thinks I am –
Jos. You do walk a bit funny – daintyish –
Geo. I know – it's habit – and it is true anyway – I do carry on sometimes but only because I have too.
Jos. You don't have to – you don't have to do anything.
Geo. Well – whatever I do I haven't got anywhere to live.
Jos. Do you want to live here?
Geo. Will you let me?
Jos. Of course – you can sleep on this couch –
Geo. Do you mind – about me being such a notorious character?
Jos. I don't mind anything. I like you – I like you very much. You're a friend of mine – the only one I've
got, to be honest. And what you do with your spare time I don't care – that's up to you – you behave
any way you please.
Geo. I'm not as bad as tny [sic] tell you, Jo.
Jos. Let’s not discuss it – it's your problem. We'll make a bed up for you on this couch. I'll get some
blankets and things. (enters bedroom)
Geo. I thought I'd be sleeping underneath the arches tonight.
Jos. Your frail little body couldn't have stood it.
Geo. Did you enjoy the fair tonight?
Jos. Loved it (reappears – arms full of sheets etc.) It’s ages since I went on [sic] the fair – the last
time was Christmas.
Geo. Shall I get something to eat?
Jos. There's only a packet of sandwiches and some biscuits – I never seem to eat anything but
sandwiches and biscuits lately – (takes them from her bag) and in the kitchen you'll find a flask of
coffee.
Geo. I'll get it – where do you keep the cups?
Jos. There's only a couple of beakers – you'll see them.
Geo. Right!
Jos. Will you tell me something?
Geo. Anything.
Jos. (he walks in from kitchen with flask and a couple of beakers) Sit down. I've always wanted to
know – don't be offended. But tell me why you carry on like you do.
Geo. No –
Jos. If you won't tell me I won't let you come and live here.
Geo. You filthy little blackmailer.
Jos. Tell me or get out.
Geo. You know I won't get out – I'm such a cowardly little clown.
Jos. Tell me. I want to know. I won’t laugh and I won’t snigger.
Geo. Look – I don't know what sort of sensational confessions you're expecting but there's nothing
sensational about it. I wasn't born queer – I was born a perfectly normal boy – everything in its proper
place. But – oh! Hell! This laying bare of my perverted soul is embarrassing.
Jos. I only want to know.
Geo. It started when I was at school – you'd be surprised how boys play around among themselves.
Nobody ever paid much attention to me – no girls at least – and I wanted a girl – I wanted a girl
so badly that when I couldn't get one I had to make do with what was available – it's just me, I
suppose. I know I'm a weed – physically and up here – but that's how it started. I've wanted to stop –
not that I carry on to such a very great extent. I wasn't born this way – I'm frightened of women who
always seem to be laughing at me. You can't imagine what it's like. To realise what sort of a lousy
little rat you are and not do anything abut it. Every morning I see this miserable mess of a face of
mine – and I feel like smashing it to smithereens.
Jos. I only wanted to know – I'm sorry –
Geo. You don't laugh at me.
Jos. I don't think you're funny – and I can't stand people who laugh at other people – they'd get a
bigger laugh if they looked at themselves.
Geo. I can cook – shall I make something instead of these soggy sandwiches?
Jos. Not now – it's too late – help me to make this bed. (they start to make-up bed)
Geo. Do you like living alone?
Jos. It's allright.
Geo. I won't be a nuisance.
Jos. You'll be at school all day – is that little art school you go to very expensive?
Geo. Very – you pay for the honour of wearing their exclusive scarf.
Jos. I can draw you know – do you see that pile of books in the corner – have a look at some of them.
(he glances thru books)
Geo. These are good. You've missed your way, Jo – have you ever tried to sell some of your work?
Jos. Who'd buy it?
Geo. I'll try and sell them. A dealer I know can only refuse. And there's no harm in asking. Who is
this?
Jos. My dear old mum.
Geo. I like the look of her.
Jos. I don't.
Geo. Do you use models?
Jos. No – I just sit here and wait for a face to come – it always does – different faces –
Geo. They really are good. Why didn't you ever go to school? It's a complete waste.
Jos. I never bothered –
Geo. Shall I take these two – I'll frame them and flog ‘em.
Jos. Do anything – I don't know how you sell paintings but if you get good money for them that's fine.
Geo. Where does your mother live?
Jos. I don't know – in a white house somewhere. She didn't give me the address.
Geo. Whose ring are you wearing?
Jos. This! Huh! I forgot I was wearing it – (takes it off and puts it into her pocket) A sailor gave it to me
–
Geo. And you're engaged to him?
Jos. Not now.
Geo. Why? Did you have a row?
Jos. I met him before Christmas – and then, just after New Year, He had to go off somewhere, on his
little boat.
Geo. Did you like him?
Jos. I liked him allright.
Geo. Loved him?
Jos. I don't know. It's funny to talk about love – I've never been too familiar with it. I suppose I must
have loved him though – or something like that – they say love creates and I'm certainly creating at
the moment. I'm going to have a baby.
Geo. I love babies!
Jos. I don't.
Geo. You're in a bit of a mess aren't you?
Jos. Why?
Geo. But you're not married or anything.
Jos. I don't care.
Geo. You can get rid of babies before they're born, you know.
Jos. I know.
Geo. But I think that's terrible.
Jos. It's murderous.
Geo. What are you going to do? I get some money from home but it isn't much – when is the baby
due?
Jos. Reckon it up – from Christmas –
Geo. About September.
Jos. Yes.
Geo. I'll stay with you – you can't be on your own.
Jos. People'll think the baby's yours.
Geo. I wish it was – I love babies. Have you got any money?
Jos. Only my wages – and they don’t last long – by the time I've bought all the things I need – you
know, make-up and stockings and things – I’ve got nothing left.
Geo. You'll have to stop using make-up.
Jos. I look a wreck without it.
Geo. At your age?
Jos. I'm dead pale – underneath all this muck I'm like a ghost. And another thing – I won't be able to
work much longer. I'm not having everyone staring at me.
Geo. We'll have to manage.
Jos. There's no need for you to worry about me.
Geo. I like you.
Jos. I like you too –
Geo. What about your mother? She should know.
Jos. Why? She'll only laugh.
Geo. Is she that sort of woman?
Jos. She's all sorts of women – but she's got plenty of money.
Geo. That's all you're interested in.
Jos. No – I can manage without her.
Geo. You can't get in touch with her either. Not knowing her address. Never mind. We'll enjoy this
baby. You've got to buy all sorts of things for it – and get it some clothes – and a pram – and these
teddy bears we won tonight should be useful.
Jos. stop talking like this. I'm not making big plans for this baby and dreaming big dreams. You know
what happens when you do that? They all go up in smoke. It's stupid to plan things – kidding yourself
for months that they'll come off. They won't. They never do. So we'll buy clothes for this baby – get it
toys and a pram and a cot to sleep in and what'll happen? I know – it'll be dead – born dead or daft or
something.
Geo. You're just feeling –
Jos. No. I'm feeling nothing. Sick – that's all.
Geo. In a couple of months you'll be your usual self.
Jes. What is my usual self? My usual self is a very unusual self, Geoffrey Ingham – and don't you
forget it. I'm an extraordinary person – there's only one of me just as there's only one of you –
Geo. We have no parallel throughout the world.
Jos. We're young –
Geo. Unrivaled –
Jos. Peerless –
Geo. We have no equal anywhere –
Jos. (they fall back onto the couch laughing) I feel a bit silly tonight. Do you like beer?
Geo. Yes –
Jos. And gin?
Geo. I love it.
Jos. Whiskey?
Geo. Adore it.
Jos. I'm glad – because if I had some I'd give it to you. I'd give it all to you. I'd give everything I had to
you – shall we have a biscuit? (opens the cellophane wrapped packet) You'll enjoy these biscuits –
they taste just like dog food –
Geo. Spratts!
Jos. You look like a spratt – Jack Spratt – who'd eat no fat – his wife would eat no lean – and so,
betwixt them both you see, they licked the platter clean. Did you enjoy that dramatic recitation?
Beo. Very moving.
Jos. You say one.
Geo. There was a man of Thessaly,
And he was wondrous wise,
He jumped into a quickset hedge,
And scratched out both his eyes;
And when he saw his eyes were out,
With all his might and main
He jumped into another hedge,
And scratched 'em in again. (they giggle)

Jos. I've never heard that before.

Geo. As I was going up Pippen-hill
Pippen-hill was dirty,
I met a pretty miss
And she dropt me a curtsy.
Little miss, pretty miss,
Blessings light upon you!
If I had half-a-crown a day
I'd gladly spend it on you.
Jos. Would you?
Geo. I would.
Jos. Nursery rhymes are silly things when you weigh them up.
Geo. I like them – have a cigarette.
Jos. How many have you got left?
Geo. Two – go on – I can get some more next week.
Jos. Keep it. I don't really care whether I smoke or not. I used to do it – just to annoy my mother.
Geo. (taking a coupon from the packet) There's a free gift coupon –
Jos. Everything you buy lately has a free gift coupon in it – it's coming to something when these
people can't get rid of their products without bribing the public. What's this for?
Geo. OH! There's a whole list of articles to you send for if you save enough coupons – there's even a
car – smoke forty-thousand cigarettes a day for the next ten-thousand years and you'll get a
Lagonda.
Jos. What's that?
Geo. A car.
Jos. A nice car?
Geo. A wonderful car.
Jos. I'll buy you one for Christmas and if you ask me nice I might buy you two.
Geo. Tired?
Jos. I just haven't got the energy to get into bed.
Geo. I’ll fetch my belongings round tomorrow.
Jos. OH! Yes – and bring your flute – you can teach me to pay it. What will you sleep in tonight?
Geo. My shirt.
Jos. This couch isn't very comfortable.
Geo. I'm a beggar – I can't choose.
Jos. We're both beggars – we're a couple of degenerates.
Geo. The Devil's own. Jo – what was this boy like?
Jos. Not a bit like you – very big – and as black as coal.
Geo. Coloured?
Jos. From Nigeria – he was a prince – the son of a chieftain.
Gea. I'll bet he was too.
Jos. Prince – Ossini –
Geo. And what was he doing here?
Jos. He was a male nurse in the navy.
Geo. Do you wish he was still here?
Jos. Not really. I feel I've had enough. I'm sick of love! That's why I'm letting you stay here – you won't
start anything –
Geo. No – I don't suppose I will.
Jos. You'd better not – I hate love!
Geo. At your age?
Jos. At my age – yes – goodnight.
Geo. You needn't lock the bedroom door.
Jos. I wasn't going to. What time do you have to be up in the morning?
Geo. I don't go to school tomorrow – I’ll stay here and clean this place up – and make you a proper
meal.
Jos. Good! You're just like a big sister to me – (exit)
Geoffrey stands silently for a moment – then he bursts each balloon as the curtain comes down.

End of scene I
Act Two.

Act Two Scene II

Scene – the flat. As the curtain rises Jo is blowing tunelessly on a flute. Geo. sits on the floor busily
knitting.
Jos. Am I good fluter?
Geo. Flutist!
Jos. Well am I?
Geo. What?
Jos. A good flutist?
Geo. No – you're just blowing down it – you're not playing it. You spit too much.
Jos. (shaking the flute) Yes – I do – stop knitting, Geof! You look ridiculous – like a little brown gnome
– twiddling away for all you're worth.
Geo. I don't care. My grandfather taught me to knit and I may as well put it to a good use. This kid of
yours has to wear something. You can't wrap it up in a bundle of newspapers.
Jos. How do you know that frock'll fit the baby?
Geo. It ought to – babies are born to a standard size anyway.
Jos. OH!
Geo. I've dropped a stitch – what a flaming nuisance!
Jos. Leave it.
Geo. Don't blow that thing, Jo.
Jos. I like it – play something for me.
Geo. No. I'm not in the mood.
Jos. I don't think babies are born to a standard size. Some I’ve seen are only little scrappy things and
others are huge and covered in rolls of fat.
Geo. That sounds revolting.
Jos. They are revolting. I don't like babies at all.
Geo. Did I tell you about the woman next door?
Jos. Have you been talking to her – I never see her – and yet you've made friends with her as quick
as anything.
Geo. Did I tell you she makes wicker baskets?
Jos. No – you didn't tell me but you can.
Geo. Well she does.
Jos. What?
Geo. Makes wicker baskets.
Jos. So?
Geo. She said she'd make the baby a cradle.
Jos. A wicker cradle?
Geo. It's the best we can do – unless you go wandering down by the river plaiting reeds together.
Jos. How much longer are you at art school?
Geo. I finish at Christmas.
Jos. And then what happens – will you go away?
Geo. I want to get a job with some repertory theatre.
Jos. Doing what?
Geo. Stage design.
Jos. Is there a theatre in this town?
Geo. Yes – a good one. Shall I take you?
Jos. Can we afford it?
Geo. No.
Jos. What's on this week?
Geo. Othello.
Jos. Othello! Huh! I’ve had enough of that. (plays a few horrible notes on the flute)
Geo. Jo! Please!
Jos. What's wrong?
Geo. That row you're making.
Jos. You don't appreciate the lovelier things in life – like me for instance.
Geo. I've been waiting for these bulbs of yours to bloom.
Jos. They've had it. I wonder why they won't grow – everything seems dead this year! Look at the
trees down by the river – isn't it a miserable place. Whenever I walk by that river I feel really dejected.
One of these days I'm sure I'll throw myself into it.
Geo. Not that place. It's full of the most revolting refuse.
Jos. Well, that's all I am.
Geo. It's a pity I couldn't sell any of your paintings.
Jos. Nobody appreciates me.
Geo. They'll squabble like mad to get their hands on them when you're dead.
Jos. Yes – I'll probably be much better off dead than Iever was alive.
Geo. Are you hungry? At the end of the week we don't nave much to eat. I did my best with the bits
we had left over but –
Jos. That stuff we had for dinner was allright.
Geo. I won't tell you what was in it – I had to disguise the whole thing heavily.
Jos. It tasted nice. What's in the oven now?
Geo. A sort of cake –
Jos. A sort of cake?
Geo. I'm experimenting. You know once – when we were camping with the boy scouts I remember we
decided to bake a cake – we were only kids – and we had no currants and raisins or any sort of fruit
so guess what we used – tea leaves! We ate it though –
Jos. I didn't know you were a boy scout.
Geo. I finished up as a patrol leader – I used to love it.
Jos. Why don't you do it now?
Geo. I just finished with it that's all.
Jos. And what have you put in this cake?
Geo. One egg – flour and stuff – it should come out as an angel cake.
Jos. I don't know the first thing about cooking.
Geo. Go and have a look at it for me while I finish this row.
Jos. And what do you want me to look at?
Geo. See if it isn't burning – never mind – I'll go myself – you really are useless, Jo. Young girls
nowadays don't seem to have any domestic accomplishments at all.
Jos. You'll make somebody a wonderful wife. (knock on door) Who's this?
Geo. Open the door and see – that's best way of finding out.
Jos. It might be somebody I don't want to see – the land lady for instance.
Geo. She told us not to worry about the rent while you're like this.
Jos. Open it.
(Geof opens the door through which Helen sweeps)
Jos. What blew you in?
Hel. A very ill-timed wind it seems.
Geo. Excuse me – (makes for the kitchen)
Hel. No – no – no– stay where you are. Who is this young man?
Jos. A friend of mine.
Hel. Is that all?
Jos. Yes.
Hel. A friend of mine – I've heard that tale before – it bears a strange resemblance to one I used to
tell my mother. She believed it too – but then, my mother was a fool – yours isn't.
Jos. This is my mother, Geof.
Hel. How do you do?
Geo. How-do-you do?
Hel. This place hasn't changed much – still the same miserable little hole.
Geo. Sit down.
Hel. Thanks.
Jos. Make a drink, Geof.
Geo. Right! (he leaves the room 'and enters the kitchen – a trifle nervously)
Hel. What a funny little man!
Jos. Don't laugh at him.
Hel. What happened to the other one – you didn't marry him I see.
Jos. No.
Hel. And never likely to. So he's gone – gone – dear me! It is a pity that we have to learn, isn't it. Are
you sorry he's gone – he was the first boy you had.
Jos. I don't care – he's gone and I can't bring him back, can I?
Hel. No.
Jos. I'm having a baby.
Hel. And that adds pathos to a pathetic tale.
Jos. You can have a good laugh at me now.
Hel. Give me credit for having some decent feelings somewhere – whatever else I do I can't laugh at
anybody else's expense. How are you off for money?
Jos. We manage.
Hel. I'll send you some,
Jos. Can you afford to give me money?
Hel. Of course – do you imagine I'd give anything away without first making sure l'm adequately
provided for? I'm not a person given to noble thoughts and gallant gestures. Self first – and when self
is satisfied I deal with the rest.
Jos. It's kind of you.
Hel. And you're surprised?
Jos. Yes.
Hel. What does that boy do?
Jos. He’s an art student.
Hel. Cigarette?
Jos. No – I'll take one though and save it for Geof.
Hel. If you're in such a state you'd better have the bloody packet.
Jos. Thank you.
Hel. Does he live here? Or is he just visiting?
Jos. Lives here.
Hel. Decently?
Jos. We're so decent we're almost dead.
Hel. He lives here and you go to bed early every night – alone?
Jos. I'm a good girl.
Hel. When's the baby due – let me see – I suppose this happened at Christmas? Yes – when the
cat's away –
Jos. You've been away a long time.
Hel. The baby should arrive around September.
Jos. Something like that.
Hel. Have you decided what you're going to do with the child?
Jos. No.
Hel. I must say you're taking a rather lethargic view of the situation. You're not looking forward to this
unhappy event with much enthusiasm?
Jos. I wish I was dead.
Hel. If it's death you desire why hesitate? Unlike birth death can be self-inflicted so you have the
advantage in this case. I think your melancholy state of mind is a common symptom of your common
condition. The river's still the same – and look at those trees – bare-naked as the day they were born.
And these bulbs too – not a sign of life. Perhaps they'll blossom later on.
Jos. I don't think so – I wish they would though. I love flowers and we can never afford to buy any.
Hel. These things take time – in a couple of weeks, when the weather bucks up, I daresay these
bulbs'll burst into flower – glorious flower – which is a wonderful thing – a seed – an apple pip – an
orchard – and this thing within yourself. Such small beginnings – You can hold an acorn in the palm
of your hand and see an oak tree there – or take – oh! well! Why am I rambling on like this. Are you
frightened?
Jos. I can't help it. I know you're not frightened of anything. But I am – my stomach feels like a big
black empty pit – I keep dreaming I’ll fall into it and drown.
Hel. I must go –
Jos. Stay – just for a bit.
Hel. Where did that boy get to?
Jos. He's making a drink. Tell me about having a baby, Helen. Did it hurt?
Hel. You fix your own criterion, Jo – it hurt me. With me it was all blood and thunder and pain and
screams – and cursing the man what did the dreadful deed. But with you it might be different again.
You're young but you certainly don't look too healthy. (Goef comes in) Hah! The young man I
frightened away. A cigarette!
Geo. Has she told you?
Hel. She has.
Geo. Thanks (as she lights his cig.) I'm glad you came. We don’t know where you live – and you
should know about the baby. After all, you're her mother.
Hel. My dear young man – the mere act of bearing a child doesn't place one under an eternal
obligation to it.
Geo. I would have thought so.
Hel. I don't suppose what you think is going to change the state of the world.
Geo. It's your grandchild.
Hel. It's my daughters child – I want no part of it. I've had one baby – and that was more than enough.
Why do you hang around here anyway, Geoffrey? It seems odd to me that a young man should turn
himself into a marty for the sake of this worthless young woman. Where does your money come from
if you're still at school?
Geo. I get an allowance every week from home – they don't care much what I spend it on so long as it
keeps me away from the friends and neighbours.
Hel. OH! I see – you're a bad boy.
Geo. A very bad boy.
Hel. What shocking company I'm in – my prudish soul is most offended. So you stay here with my
daughter because nobody else wants you – and you take his money like a little blood-sucker?
Geo. She doesn't take anything – we share everything we've got.
Jos. See – we're communists too –
Hel. Share everything – are you still working?
Jos. No.
Hel. Why? Is your condition delicate?
Jos. It doesn't matter.
Hel. No –
Geo. She's too self-conscious.
Hel. Like all self-conscious people you flatter yourself into believing people have got nothing better to
do than look at you. Dear me, that isn't so at all – people are too preoccupied with themselves to
bother about anyone else.
Jos. Listen – if I don't want to go out I'm not going out and it's nothing to do with you.
Hel. Do you go to the hospital regularly? Anti-natal stuff and all that?
Geo. No, she doesn't, and I wish you'd make her go.
Hel. I can't make anybody do anything, young man. If she refuses to take proper care of herself
allright! She's old enough to know what she's doing.
Geo. She'll finish up in the local cemetery.
Hel. Don't we all at some time or other?
Geo. But it's a bit soon for her.
Hel. It’s never too soon.
Geo. You should be able to make her take care of herself. You're her mother – I don't want anything
to happen to her.
Hel. Are you so worried?
Jos. He worry's like an old woman.
Hel. Then he's wasting his time.
Geo. Don't you care about her at all?
Hel. No. To be quite honest I don't.
Geo. I do though.
Hel. Then you can talk her into being sensible.
Geo. She said you were a rotten sort of woman – I thought she was exaggerating.
Hel. And now you realise how kind she was in her criticism. Believe me – I'm as rotten as everybody
else – even you, my bright eyed boy – what time is it?
Geo. I don't know.
Hel. You're wearing a watch.
Geo. It isn't reliable. It's never been right since the last time it went wrong.
Hel. Neither have I. Well – I'm going.
Jos. Good!
Hel. You're contrary – a minute ago you wanted me to stay.
Jos. Get out!
Hel. You don't know what you do want, Jo – but I do. A bloody good hiding! AND I'm just the girl to
give it you –
Jos. Get out!
Hel. There's no need to shout – you're getting hysterical.
Jos. I could kill you.
Hel. (slapping her across the face) Keep quiet. You're only showing yourself up for what you are.
Geo. For goodness sake –
Jos. Shut up – nobody asked you to interfere.
Geo. Don't shout at each other.
Hel. We enjoy it –
Jos. (turning to rush from room) No –
Hel. (grabbing her) Where are you rushing off to?
Jos. Let me go.
Geo. Let her go, Helen –
Hel. What are you struggling for? Do you think I'll hurt you?
Jos. It wouldn't be the first time.
Hel. Haven't you got yourself into a mess! You stupid little fool. You couldn't wait could you – no –
and now look at you – living here with this chinless wonder! Half-starved – you look like death! What
are you living on – fresh air and his sympathy? Don't expect sympathy from me – you're like all young
people. Think you know it all – you know nothing! I knew something like this would happen to you – I
can see where you'll finish up – in the bloody river or peddling your body on the streets – oh! God!
stop sniveling – you're too old to cry – you've fallen down – do you want me to kiss your bruises
better?
Geo. Don't shake her like that.
Hel. Get away from me before I do something you’ll regret – (flings Jo. across the room)
Geo. You shouldn't manhandle her like that.
Hel. I told you to shut up! Can't you understand plain English or shall I write it down in very big – very
clear letters – go away from here – take your simpering little self off to some other place.
Jos. I think it's time you made an exit.
Hel. Yes – I'm always making exits – they unavoidably follow an entrance. In – out – out – in –
Jos. Goodbye – and if it can possibly be avoided don't come here again.
Hel. I suppose my cheque'll be more welcome than me – (exit)
Jos. I'll never understand her.
Geo. Why should you – why should we try to understand anybody else when we can't even
understand ourselves.
Jos. Let’s have that drink. She gets on my nerves.

End of scene II Act Two.

Curtain.
ACT TWO scene III
Time – some time later.
Scene – the flat. As curtain rises Geoffrey is hammering on the flat door – Jo comes through from the
bedroom. She switches on the light – opens the door and Geo. practically falls into her arms.
Jos. What's the matter with you – you do make a row. Were you tying to break the door down with
your bare hands?
Geo. I've been knocking for ages. Why didn't you answer? I thought something had happened to you.
Jos. You do get excited. The way you carry on about this baby anybody'd think it was yours. I was
just having a sleep – why are you so late?
Geo. I went out to find a job – part-time.
Jos. You've no need to do that. Not now, when Helen sends us money every week.
Geo. I want to get out of this house.
Jos. I'm not surprised. Did you get a job?
Geo. No – oh! I am fed up! I'm sick of everything. I feel like flinging myself underneath a ten ton lorry!
Jos. Are you fed up with me?
Geo. I'm fed up with myself. I don't know what to do.
Jos. About what?
Geo. About everything.
Jos. Well, don't jump down my throat! I only asked.
Geo. How much longer is this going on for?
Jos. Listen – if you want to get away from me – get! Now!
Geo. If I ever get away from you I'll be finished.
Jos. Don't talk like that. I'm not the only girl in the world who doesn't make fun of you. You haven't got
a bit of confidence in yourself, Geof!
Geo. There's a book for you! (tosses a book into her lap and enters the kitchen)
Jos. Looking After Baby! OH! Isn't that nice!
Geo. You should read it. When your baby comes you won't know one end of it from the other.
Jos. It tells you how to wash nappies here. I can't possibly wash nappies – they're disgusting!
Geo. (re-appearing with a bottle of milk) Read the book.
Jos. I wonder if it explains how to feed babies?
Geo. Even you know how babies are fed.
Jos. I know about that way – breast feeding. But I'm not going to have a little animal nibbling away at
me. It's like being eaten alive. Cannibalistic.
Geo. Honestly! You haven't got a shred of sentimentality in you. I thought mother-love came naturally
to every woman.
Jos. I don't care about motherhood.
Geo. lf you can't give the kid any spiritual comforts at least you can give it a bit of practical
consideration. Shall I buy you a doll – then you can practice on that?
Jos. I've got toothache.
Gilo. I've got bloody heartache!
Jos. Don't swear.
Geo. Swear! I could do worse than swear.
Jos. Have you got any of that toothache cure?
Geo. The only cure for toothache is a visit to the dentist. That stuff I've got isn't any use. Have a drink
of milk.
Jos. Take it away. And stop prowling about the place.
Geo. I feel restless.
Jos. Get outside then – find yourself a nice little girlfriend.
Geo. You're the only girlfriend I want.
Jos. Maybe but I don't want you.
Geo. Am I so repulsive to you?
Jos. You're nothing to me – I'm everything to myself.
Geo. You know that woman who lives at the butchers shop?
Jos. I don't know anybody around here – I'm not like you – A friend to all the world. What about her?
Geo. She's quite convinced we're living together in sin.
Jos. And you wish we were.
Geo. (grabbing her and holding her while she struggles) What would you do if I started something?
Jos. In my condition I'd probably faint.
Geo. I mean – after –
Jos. You won't be with me after.
Geo. I will – you can't leave me now.
Jos. Let me go. And don't squeeze my arms – please! Oh! Geoffrey –
Geo. I've never kissed a girl.
Jos. That's your fault.
Geo. Let me kiss you.
Jos. No – leave me alone! Please – Geof!
Geo. (kissing her) How was that for a first time?
Jos. Practice on somebody else. Let me go. (they wrestle with each other until finally he releases
her.)
Geo. I wouldn't hurt you.
Jos. Geof! I'll always like you but I don't half enjoy messing around – all this panting and sweating and
grunting.
Geo. Marry me!
Jos. Don't breath all over me – you sound like a horse. I'm not marrying anybody.
Geo. Just for the baby's sake. I wouldn't make you do things you didn't want to do. I just like being
with you and talking to you – I like doing things for you – what happens in bed during the night
doesn't bother me really – I could never live up to your big black beast of a prince, anyway. I bet you
didn't struggle when he tried to make love to you.
Jos. It might have been better if I had.
Geo. There's some chocolate – (he hands her a block of choc.)
Jos. Thanks – have a piece –
Geo. It's got strawberry cream inside – you like that.
Jos. I think it would be best if you left this place, Geof. I don't think it's doing you any good being here
with me all the time.
Geo. I could never go away from you.
Jos. But you must. We can't stay together forever.
Geo. I'd sooner be dead than away from you.
Jos. You say that as if you mean it.
Geo. I do mean it. Before I met you I didn't much care about living or dying – it made no difference to
me – then I met you and life is all I want – being with you is my life.
Jos. I think I'll go to bed.
Geo. You wouldn't leave me – would you? We could always live together – you don't want any more
men you said – and you're the only woman I'm interested in – there's no need for us to split up.
Jos. I don't suppose so – I think I'll go to bed.
Geo. I'll put the hot water bottle in – it's cold tonight.
Jos. No – it's already in – I fixed it before. Goodnight.
(She kisses him goodnight and enters the bedroom. He pulls the cover back from the make-shift bed
and takes his pyjamas from beneath the pillow. The lights inside the flat fade away and outside on the
street stands Helen and Peter.)
Pet. The lights are out. They've probably gone to bed.
Hel. Then they'll just have to get out of bed. Come on – or are you still scared of seeing her?
Pet. I'm not scared – I'm just – embarrassed. I've never been involved in a situation like this.
Hel. AH! But your dearly beloved wife has. The child is having a baby – a condition to which women
are peculiarly and, somewhat unfairly, prone. (a ship goes by on the river sounding its siren)
Pet. What a lousy place this is. How was she the last time you saw her?
Hel. Looking like death warmed up!
Pet. Has she decided what to do with the baby?
Hel. She doesn't care.
Pet Couldn't we take it?
Hel. Say that again.
Pet. You heard perfectly well what I said.
Hel. If you want children you should never have married me.
Pet. I don't particularly long for your children – but this child of Jo's –
Hel. I'm too old to start that caper again.
Pet. If she doesn't want the baby we might just as well have it – just to give our marriage a bit of –of
Hel. A bit of body?
Pet. Yes – at the moment it seems like an empty box.
Hel. I made a mess of one child.
Pet. You were on your own.
Hel. I'm on my own now, Peter – I didn't think you were a family man.
Pet. Since I came out of the army I have been. Oh! yes! I make a joke about it but in the army I
realised how much a man’s family means. Of course I had to lose it first – like everything else – you
only miss it when you've lost it.
Hel. That's usually the case.
Pet. You like children. I know it – I've seen you playing with the children who live near us.
Hel. I adore other peoples children. But I just cannot bear the responsibility of my own.
Pet. Do you ever think of getting Jo to live with us – would you like her to live with us?
Hel. Yes. But – my little love, and it is a very big but! Would she like to live with us?
Pet. We get along allright.
Hel. Yes – you two – you're as thick as a couple of thieves but I'm a different story. Come on – we
may as well knock them up! (knock on door. Geo opens it)
Hel. You're still here – this is my husband, Peter – this is my daughters head cook and bottle washer
Geoffrey – where is the lady in question?
Geo. In bed.
HeI. (knocking on bedroom door) Then we must get her out of bed. Jo – your beloved old lady has
arrived.
Pet. She's asleep.
Hel. (opening door) Am I disturbing you?
Jos. Yes.
Hel. Never mind – it’s all disturbance. Come on –
Jos. (entering main room and seeing Peter) Hallo – how are you?
Pet. I'm fine – and you?
Jos. I'm awful!
Pet. You look a bit pale and hungry. Your eyes are travelling steadily backwards into your head.
Jos. I’m going home fast.
Hel. Isn't it a bit early in the evening for you to go to bed?
Geo. There's nothing else to do. Would you like a drink?
HeI. What have you got to offer besides tea and cocoa?
Jos. Water – and milk.
Hel. Can't you get something a little less stimulating – you know how easily strong drink affects me.
Geo. I can go down to the shop and buy some –
Hel. Give him the money, Peter – get a good collection.
Jos. He can't go out now – he's only just –
Geo. It's allright.
Pet. What will you get – I prefer beer – she'll want whiskey – and you Jo?
Jos. Cherry wine.
HeI. Dear God!
Jos. I like cherry wine.
Geo. Do you want some potato crisps, Jo?
Jos. OH! Yes – and some chocolate.
Hel. And get anything you fancy for yourself.
Pet. You're generosity with my money, Helen is most praiseworthy.
Geo. I'll just put my coat on – it won’t take me a minute.
Jos. Put a scarf round your neck –
Geo. For goodness sake! Don't treat me like a fragile old gentleman. (Exit)
Hel. That's got rid of him.
Pet. A present for you.
Jos. What is it?
Pet. A bracelet.
Jos. (opening parcel) Diamonds?
Pet. Nothing more or nothing loss – diamonds.
HeI. Do you like it?
Jos. Well – I do and I don't.
Pet. Must be one or the other – do you do like it more than you don't like it do you don't like it more
than you do?
Jos. Yes.
Pet. I thought as much.
Jos. I've never touched real diamonds before –
Hel. These are beautiful –
Pet. What does your boyfriend do Jo?
Hel. An art student.
Pet. Do you still paint?
Jos. Sometimes.
Pet. Have a cigarette?
Jos. No thanks – it makes me feel sick.
Hel. It's enough to make any decent body sick. (helping herself to a cigarette)
Jos. How do you like being married, Peter?
Pet. It has its lighter moments but on the whole it's a pretty trying prospect.
Jos. I knew it would be with a woman like this.
Pet. What have you been doing while you're not working?
Jos. Nothing – I just lounge around the house –
Hel. I’ll bet she's too idle even to walk down to the postoffice for her maternity benefit.
Jos. Maternity benefit – money?
Hel. Don't tell me you've been going through this and didn't know you got a pension for doing it?
Jos. You mean a sort of allowance? I didn't know about that.
Hel. The government provides expectant mothers with alI sorts – free milk and orange juice and
vitamin pills – and God alone knows what else!
Pet. She needn't go short of anything. Not while you're married to me – we'll look after you.
Jos. What are you working at now?
Pet. Banks.
Jos. Doing what –
PeL Money.
Jos. Do you make it –
Hel. Steal it –
Jos. Or do you buy it?
Pet. You wouldn't understand – just be satisfied that I have plenty of it.
Hel. Peter's brother got married the other day, Jo.
Jos. Did he? Why?
Pet. He had dishonourable intentions on this young woman and she found herself in a rather
unfortunate condition so – my young brother being as noble and upright as I am – did the proper thing
– there's a photograph of the happy couple – and the wedding group –
Jos. Is that you? It doesn't look like you.
Pet. No – it isn't me – we didn’t go to the wedding – weddings affect us.
Jos. I thought it was you.
Pet. You said it didn't look like me.
Jos.. What I mean is – if it's supposed to be you it isn't like you but if it isn’t supposed to be you it is.
Hel. And the light of the world shone upon them.
Pet. Do you like his wife?
Je. You can tell she's having a baby.
Pet. Yes – do you wish you'd got married now?
Jos. I don't think so.
Hel. Excuse me a minute. (exit)
Jos. Where's she gone?
Pet. Probably in search of the smallest room.
Jos. OH! Hold my hand while she's away.
Pet. Allright?
Jos. You've got nice hands – hard.
Pet. You don't look well, Jo.
Jos. I'm fine really.
Pet. I could murder this boy for doing this to you.
Jos. Why? Why are you so upset?
Pet. Because you're my wife's daughter.
Jos. Your wife doesn't often remember that.
Pet. You'd be surprised. I’m fond of you.
Jos. I don't think I'd like it to have been any other way. This last Christmas when he was here was the
most wonderful Christmas I've ever had. Usually I spend Christmas alone – in some dirty little rooms
which Helen decided we should live in for a while – while she escaped from one of her boyfriends. I
used to hate that. Town after town – lodging houses – all the same – different schools and different
people to meet – I hate meeting people. But it doesn't matter now – I don't care if she doesn't care
about me – somebody cared about me last Christmas and that's all I ever wanted. A bit of affection – I
like holding hands – with you – with Geof – I'd like to hold my mother’s hand too but whenever I tried
to do that – you know – when I was a baby – she used to turn away from me – or tell me to stop it! It’s
funny really, when you think. She loves so many – and I mean she loves them – really – but she can't
spare a single drop of love for me. I wonder why? (lifts his hand up and looks at the watch around his
wrist) That's a nice watch. Is it very old?
Pet. It was my father’s – he gave it to me when I was twenty one. What would you like me to buy you
for your twenty-first birthday?
Jos. You can erect a big white marble angel on my grave.
Pet. I don't approve of white marble angels on graves – they always seem a little presumptuous
(Helen comes in followed by Geof)
Hel. Here we are. The boy with the bottles.
Geo. It's freezing outside. You'd never think it was summer.
Hel. In this country there are only two seasons – Winter and Winter.
Geo. I'll get the glasses – what glasses we've got – you won't mind drinking from beakers will you?
Jos. Helen doesn't care what she drinks from so long as she drinks.
Hel. Come along Geoffrey – I'll help you –
Geo. No! I can manage. (exit)
Hel. And can you tell me why my husband sits on the parlour couch clutching my daughter’s hand like
an enraptured schoolboy.
Jos. Are you jealous?
Hel. Not of you. You’re not very formidable competition.
Jos. He's only being fatherly
Hel. Fancy! (looks through window as another ship passes along the river) Another ship off some
where –
Jos. I wish you were on it.
Hel. So do I.
Pet. Do you feel like a holiday?
Hel. No – I'm just talking. In a place like this it's either all talk or action and I'm much too tired to act.
Jo – I must ask you something. Would you come and live with us?
Jos. You and Peter?
Hel. Yes.
Jos. Why?
Hel. We worry about you – l can' t sleep for thinking about you.
Jos. And your sleep mustn't be disturbed at any cost.
Hel. Will you come?
Jos. (as Geoffrey enters) And what about him?
Hel. He can come if he wants to.
Jos. Would you like to live with my mother, Geof?
Geo. No.
Jos. And neither would anybody in their right minds.
Hel. (taking a drink from the tray) Is this mine?
Geo. Whiskey – and a beer for you, Peter. There's your wine, Jo. It does look terrible – like blood.
Jos. It tastes delicious. Is your coat mink, Helen?
Hel. My husband likes to kid me into believing it is.
Jos. Can I try it on?
Hel. By all means.
Jo. (putting the coat on) It makes me feel itchy! I don't like it at all. Which car have you come in –
Geo. A Lagonda – I saw it parked outside.
Jos. That's his favourite car – let him have a ride in it Peter.
Pet. Can you drive?
Geo. Not very well – I have no license.
Hel. Take him for a ride round the block.
Geo. Please –
Hel. You'll have to be careful with it – it’s the pride and joy of his life – apart from myself.
Geo. How long have you had it?
Pet. Just a month.
Geo. Come on –
Hel. Let him finish his drink.
Pet. Yes –
Geo. You can finish it when you get back – come on –
Hel. Aren't you impatient?
Jos. He collects pictures of Lagonda cars –
Pet. I'm ready – come on – (Geo. and Pet. exit)
Jos. Why do men get so excited about cars?
Hel. Men get excited about anything – but cars and women seem to be their main weakness.
Jos. Why are you suddenly so anxious for me to live with you again?
Hel. I'm not anxious. I only asked. I am your mother – not that that influences me in any way – but I
can't stand seeing you carry on like this – perhaps it's too late for me to start playing dear old anxious
mom! But just this once I feel like being noble and self-sacrificing and I want you – just until the baby
comes – it won't be long now. Just let me have you near me –
Jos. So that you can take care of me?
Hel. Don't sneer. When I really set out to take care of somebody I go all the way – you might even
enjoy it.
Jos. Stop talking like this. The time to take care of me was years ago when I couldn't take care of
myself. It’s too late now. All I want from you is your money – that's the only thing you give me that I
can find any use for. It’s all I want from you.
Hel. You little bitch!
Jos. Call me names. That’s all you can do.
Hel. I could knock the living daylights out of you.
Jos. It wouldn't be the first time.
Hel. And it wouldn't be the last either. What am I asking you to do but live in the same house with
me? I don't want to smother you with mother love – I don't think I have any such mother love in me.
Why can't you wake up? Why don't you try to use whatever there is in this small restless sphere – this
gaping void we are obliged to call your head? Haven't you got any brains? Any sense at all?
Jos. Helen I'd sooner live in a tent in the middle of Siberia than live with you.
Hel. I wish I could knock some common sense into you.
Jos. Don't get excited.
Hel. I can't bear to think of you sitting around this place. Waiting – that's all – waiting – you do
nothing.
Jos. What can I do?
Hel. Think! Think! You bloody little fool. Think!
Jos. Shut up! Why must you shout?
Hel. I'm Irish –
Jos. Never mind – it isn't your fault.
Hel. (flinging her glass against the wall) Jesus Christ Almighty! Do you care about anybody but
yourself?
Jos. Do you?
Hel. Why should I care about anybody else – does anybody else care about me?
Jos. My heart bleeds for you.
Hel. You'll drive me me insane.
Jos. Stop carrying on like a mad woman.
Hel. Have you been to a doctor since this baby started? You don't give a damn about it do you? Poor
little Josephine – hasn't the world given her a rough time? And now she doesn't care. She hides
herself away and she doesn't care. She has her dainty little perverted nurse-maid to run around after
her – playing attendance on her every whim and wish – she doesn't care – the story of my life! Just
wait – in a couple of months when this child grows too big for your body to hold him anymore you'll
change your tune. You'll care then –
Jos. I won't.
Hel. I know you – you're a little coward – you always have been. A bit of pain and you flake out like a
candle light.
Jos. I'll worry about that.
Hel. Good! I won't.
Jos. Nobody asked you to –
Hel. You look so pale – have you taken a look at yourself lately? Seen your face and these arms –
like bloody little stalks? You won't be strong enough to have a baby – you’ll probably die before it
comes – .
Jos. So? You begin to die from the moment you start to live.
Hel. Really!
Jos. It’s true – and anyway why should I bother with you? I don't like talking to you – I don't even like
you – get out!
Hel. Get out! I would too but that blasted husband of mine's gone off somewhere in that blasted car of
his with that castrated little clown of yours.
Jos. I'm going back to bed – you can wait in here but I'm not staying with you – you make me feel
sick.
Hel. I often wish I’d destroyed you before you started to breed.
Jos. So do I.

End of scene
Curtain.

Act Two
Scene IIII [sic]
Time – a couple of months later – early Autumn.
Scene – the flat. Jo lies across the couch. She is clothed in a voluminous white gown. She is reading.
Closing the book she seems to reflect for a moment and then flinging the book across the room
buries her head in the pillow. Geoffrey comes in from the bedroom.
Geo. What's wrong now?
Jos. Nothing – and you can go away. Don't hover above me like a little vulture.
Geo. Are you hungry? Thirsty? You’ve hardly eaten all week.
Jos. No –
Geo. Do you want to waste away altogether?
Jos. I wish I could.
Geo. Don't bury your face in that pillow. You'll suffocate.
Jos. That's my business. If I want to suffocate I will. And
it’s no concern of yours.
Geo. Allright. What are you crying for?
Jos. Myself. OH! Geoffrey – I wish you wouldn't wear black shirts – you look like a spiv.
Geo. I'm sorry my style doesn't suit you. But I can't be too particular about what I wear just now –
good clothes cost money.
Jos. We've got money – we don't spend it all on household necessities. .
Geo. I can't spend your mother’s money on myself.
Jos. She doesn't care how it’s spent. You look like a tramp.
Geo. We're both tramps.
Jos. Geof what am I going to do with this baby when it comes? I can't think what I'm going to do – I
hope it dies or something – would you like it?
Geo. You can't give babies away as if they're kittens or puppies.
Jos. I'd give it to you. You love babies – go on –
Geo. If you care so much for your child why don't just tie a brick round its neck and sling it into the
river?
Jos. I wish I could – I do feel miserable.
Geo. Is it surprising? You've hardly set a foot outside the house for at least six months. You haven't
had a breath of fresh air. You won't go out. You stagnate in this filthy old place all day and all night.
No sunshine – no rain – no exercise – nothing. For all the good you do you might as well be dead.
For your convenience I'll remind you of the large gas-oven in the kitchen. It's big enough to
accommodate your head – I think.
Jos. I wish I had the nerve. When you're out at school all day I often try to kill myself but I just haven't
got the courage – I've tried sleeping pills and the carving knife – I've tried hanging myself and the
river but I always stop before it's too late.
Geo. Don’t sit there wailing – I can’t bear to see you crying. (she puts her arms around his waist as he
stands by the side of the couch and she weeps unashamedly) You don't really feel like killing
yourself, I know – it's just because you're not feeling well and you're run down. Please stop crying, Jo
– please –
Jos. I feel so miserable.
Geof. I suppose I'd feel the same too – go on then – have a good weep if you want. (he strokes her
hair) It might be better if you took some sort of interest in this baby – you'd feel as if you had
something to do –
Jos. No – I don't want this baby.
Geo. I bought a doll yesterday – I thought you could practice a few holds on that – changing nappies
and the rest of it – shall we have a go? Come on –
Jos. Do I get on your nerves?
Geo. I know you don't mean it.
Jos. I wish Helen was here.
Geo. I thought you hated the sight of her.
Jos. I do – but I wish she was here all the same.
Geo. Shall I ask her to come round?
Jos. No – she'd only refuse.
Geo. Why do you want her anyway? Every time she comes you finish up with a big row.
Jos. (he tries to disentangle himself from her encircling arms but she clings to him) Don't move, let me
touch you.
Geo. Why? Do you get a lot of motherly comfort from hanging on to me?
Jos. You're just like a mother –
Geo. Give the boy a putty medal! (he thrusts her away from him) I haven't got time to talk anyway –
I've got work to do – studying. It's exams next week.
Jos. Final exams?
Geo. Semi-finals – books! Books! Reading and learning as if our lives depend upon it – I don't know
why any of us bother because in this country the more you know the less you earn.
Jos. Where's that doll?
Geo. (bringing in a large rubber doll from bedroom) The woman in the shop said these are the dolls
they use at the clinics and all that – you know – places where people study mothercraft – it looks real
to me – look at its face – what are you going to do with it?
Jos.(taking the doll from him and throwing it against the wall) I'm going to bash its brains out – and
that's what I'll do to the real baby when it comes. I'm so sick of hearing you carry on about it – when
the baby comes – what shall we call it – I'm not going to call it anything – it can find its own identity!
Why should I christen it John or Peter or Mary Ann? I don't care about it. I didn't want it in the first
place and I don't want it now. We might as well christen it Number One because it'll always be
Number One to itself. [1]
Geo. You’re getting hysterical again.
Jos. I like getting hysterical – it breaks the monotony. I wish you’d go away from me. You seem to be
making your life around me and this lousy little kid! And I don't want you to do that.
Geo. I want it –
Jos. OH! I do feel depressed.
Geo. It's your own fault.
Jos. You won't say that when they drag my poor mutilated body from the river. Suicide while the
balance of her mind was disturbed! I don't think the balance of my mind has ever been anything but
disturbed.
Geo. I think it’s my brain that's been disturbed these last couple of months.
Jos. That's true – do you remember that time you asked me to marry you? What a thing to suggest!
Geo. Yes – it was funny.
Jos. OH! No – it wasn't funny how you're thinking it was funny. No – don't look so hurt! I wasn't
laughing at you – it was just – well – you know how I am. I’d drive anybody mad.
Geo. Not me – please, Jo – it wouldn't be so bad married to me. I know I'm not a very robust type of
man but there's nothing frail and puny about my love for you.
Jos. I love you too but not marrying love.
Geo. – I'm not asking much – I never have asked for much. I've always had to be content with what I
could get. I'm used to making do with whatever I've been given. And now I've got you – it doesn't
matter that you won't sleep with me or that you're having somebody else’s baby – it's you – you're the
one who matters so far as I'm concerned. What you've done you've done and what I've done I've
done – we can't pretend any other way – these things are finished with and they should be forgotten –
we should think only about what we're going to do and what we're doing. What's happened happened
yesterday and yesterday's as dead as tomorrow. Why shouldn't I have you? Allright! So my shoulders
are little more than a handspan across and I don't bulge with virile young manhood – my body isn't
big but inside my heart swells bigger than a mountain when I'm
with you or when I think about you. I couldn't leave you now – I want you – I'd do anything for you –
please do this for me.
Jos. No.
Geo. Why not?
Jos. I can't.
Geo. I didn't really think you would. But it was nice kidding myself – I've been imagining all sorts of
things – me and you and this baby – together – like a family! Living together – and me – dear old
daddy! Working hard to keep the old homestead going. Plans! And hopes! And secret wishes! We
might just as well throw them to the little fishes.
Jos. I'm sorry.
Geo. It's allright – you haven't done anything wrong. It’s my fault, if anything, for being such a fool.
Jos. You're not a fool.
Geo. I am –
Jos. You look sad. Have a drink of this whiskey.
Geo. Whiskey tastes rotten – you see – I'm not much of a man's man. I prefer your cherry wine – little
Priscilla, that's me.
Jos. You haven't said anything about my home dressmaking. Look!
I made this – it’s supposed to be a housecoat.
Geo. Stand up – let me see it.
Jos. What does it look like?
Geo. Well – to tell the truth – it looks like a rather badly tailored shroud.
Jos. I do feel sorry for you, Geoffrey.
Geo. That's something I think I can do without. Don't feel sorry for me. I'm sorry enough for myself. I
only asked and you refused. I mightn't have bothered and you might have wanted to marry me – then
– lost my chance! I think I'll go for a walk.
Jos. You’d better comb your hair before you go out – it's all messed up. It needs cutting too –
Geo. I'll see you later. (exit. He turns to leave the house. Helen enters and stops him)
Hel. Hello my wandering boy – and where are you roaming off to?
Geo. Hello Helen. I'm just going for a walk. Jo's upstairs.
Hel. What's the matter – you look as if you've lost your best friend.
Geo. I'm allright.
Hel. What's the matter – has she rebuffed you?
Gso. Yes – I had an idea you'd realise what's been going on.
Hel. I'm sorry –
Geo. Everybody's sorry for me – she is – you are – I must be a pretty pathetic figure.
Hel. Who’s fault’s that?
Geo. Mine – I know it – but I – oh! well – I'll leave you to it.
Hel. How is she?
Geo. I don't know.
Hel. She hasn't been taking care of herself?
Geo. I've tried to look after her – but it seems I'm as poor as a nurse-maid as I am in every other way.
I'll see you later sometime.
Hel. Yes – (he walks off and she knocks on the flat door)
Jos. Come in! (she sees who it is) OH! It's you – what have I done to deserve the pleasure of your
company?
Hel. I'm a visitation for all your sins. (she picks the doll up from the floor) Who's this?
Jos. A doll Geof bought for me to practice on.
Hel. Have you got any nappies?
Jos. In the bedroom. (Helen enters the bedroom and reenters with a nappy) What are you going to
do?
Hel. See whether or not I've lost the knack – it's a long time since I handled a baby. (she puts the
nappy on the doll) When you're dealing with babies you know, it's a wise thing to establish your
superiority over the little devils – you've got to develop a tough, uncompromising technique –
otherwise they play hell with your life. Little dictators! What about that now? See! Not bad for
someone as out of touch with motherhood as I've been these last couple of years.
Jos. You're very clever.
Hel. She grudgingly admitted. How are you?
Jos. I'm – oh! I'm awful. I feel awful.
Hel. I've just seen Geoffrey, he looks very dejected. But nobody would blame you. You can't chain
yourself up to that pusillanimous impersonation of a man forever more till kingdom come.
Jos. Don't sneer at him.
Hel. Dear little Mr.– Friend –Through – All – Your – Trials – and – Tribulations!
Jos. You're not being funny, Helen. He isn't like some of these simpering pansified little freaks you
see knocking about.
Hel. You're kidding yourself. They're all the same.
Jos. If this is all you came to tell me get out! I don't want you here if you can only sneer at Geof –
Hel. What are you wearing?
Jos. I made it myself.
Hel. Dear Father in the starry heavens but you look a sorry sight!
Jos. You should take a look at yourself once in a while before you start criticising other people.
Hel. Have you been getting the money?
Jos. Every week.
Hel. And what have you been spending it on – obviously not your own welfare.
Jos. Geoffrey spends it on all sorts of things – fancy food – baby clothes – did you see the cot in
there?
Hel. I did – and the teddy bear and the baby's rattles –
Jos. He's had a marvelous time buying these things. He loves babies.
Hel. AH! You've still got some whiskey left. May l? Of course I may – I bought it.
Jos. Helen –
Hel. What?
Jos. You know when you were having me – were you frightened?
Hel. Fear's a waste of time – so many people waste so much time being afraid. And life, as I realise
now, is much too short. There isn't time to throw away – as I have! Of course I was frightened when
you were on the way – but not so frightened as when you finally arrived. I'm as prone as anyone else
to these little troubles, l suppose.
Jos. Did you marry Peter because you were scared?
Hel. Dear me – what a perceptive child I bred.
Jos. I knew it – I knew it –
Hel. Congratulations but don't imagine for one minute that fear was my only motive for finally taking a
lawful wedded husband –
Jos. He's well off too.
Hel. He's young and healthy – he's goodlooking and I’m a woman much attracted to goodlooking
men. Of course only in the natural course these things that he should also find me desirable but –
apart from the charm of his ever open and seemingly bottomless wallet there is something else – a
little matter of love – that sweet affection and fondness – the sexual passion with which you are now
familiar – love is a madness but, used wisely and placed strategically, there is a definite method in the
way I have utilised it.
Jos. I feel sorry for him.
Hel. Your sympathy is admirable enough but entirely misplaced.
Jos. You're too old for him. Doesn't he ever wish he had a family? I mean – that's why most people
get married.
Hel. Yes – yes – like most men he wants a family. That's something I hadn't counted on. I'm not as
infallible as we would imagine.
Jos. Would you like my baby?
Hel. I'd like you – and your baby.
Jos. That'd save you a lot of trouble. You’d have my baby – you hard-faced old woman!
Hel. I'm sorry.
Jos. What for?
Hel. For myself.
Jos. Who else?
Hel. You know, if I had any sense I'd try to trace this sailor of yours – take him to the law courts for
breach of promise – Paternity suits! That's what they call them –
Jos. I wouldn't dream of doing anything like that. It's degrading.
Hel. And what do you call this situation – it isn't the sort of thing most people regard as morally
uplifting. Come and live with us, Jo. I worry about you. All the time – through the day, and through
the night I lie in the arms of a man who adores me and think of you. My conscience!
Jos. Your conscience troubles you?
Hel. Something does – up here (touches her head and then her heart) – and somewhere down here.
Like a short sharp attack of indigestion every now and again.
Jos. A trip to the chemist would soon put you right – or a good priest.
Hel. Priest! Huh! When I was a young girl I was sent to the priest every day and three times on
Sundays – see me now – I'm a bloody villain!
Jos. Give your voice a rest, Helen –
Hel. AH! There is no music sweeter to my ears than the music of my own voice.
Jos. Then talk to yourself. Nobody wants to listen to you all night. I am hungry. I keep getting the most
terrible cravings. I could eat something nice – you know, the other night I wanted to suck a piece of
coal! Geof thought I'd gone mad.
Hel. Shall I get you something?
Jos. I can manage – (enters kitchen) do you want anything?
Hel. No – (Jo reappears with a plate of salami) What's that stuff – salami?
Jos. (cutting a slice) I love it – it's gorgeous. Tell me something – are you too old for having babies?
Hel. No – I don't think so – I have the time – the means but I lack the inclination. (takes a parcel from
her bag and hands it to Jo) Here – I brought some things for the child.
Jos. (opening the parcel) These are very rich looking clothes! My baby will be dressed like a prince!
Hel. We are all princes in our own little kingdoms.
Jos. Yes – my little prince’s kingdom is going to be a strange place – you won't want him or her,
Helen.
Hel. Why not?
Jos. We'll wait and see – and when you've seen you can decide.
Hel. Don't wave that deadly knife about Jo – it's dangerous.
Jos. It's sharp too – Geof's very particular about his kitchen utensils – he does all the cooking – and
he keeps his tools as sharp as your tongue.
Hel. Don’t eat too much of that –
Jos. OH! (she twitches with pain – and any of the other symptoms in accordance with childbirth. Not
having had any experience of this I must rely entirely upon the integrity of the actors to convey the
right amount of suffering – I apologise for the vagueness of it all, but at least the author’s honest)
Hel. OH! Are we off? I’d better get an ambulance.
Jos. (burying her face in the pillow) Better get an undertaker.
Hel. I won't be long – now don't cry – it's only a bit of pain. I know its awful but what did you expect?
Jos. I wish Geof was here –
Hel. He’d probably faint – (exit. Jo lies across the couch – sobbing etc. She gets up and tries to grab
the knife at that moment. Helen comes in and takes it from her) Spare me blood and thunder death
scenes. The landlady’s phoning the hospital. And what were you trying to do to yourself?
Jos. It’s awful – I can't bear it.
Hel. It won't last forever – nothing does, which is a good thing. Lie still! What were you going to do –
kill yourself?
Jos. No – oh!
Hel. Have a drink?
Jos. No! I didn't think it was like this – what's going on inside me?
Hel. Intense propaganda leads us to believe it's a miracle – a much abused miracle – but there we
are! (looks through window) I wish that ambulance would hurry up.
Jos. Don't stand over there – Come near me.
Hel. Are you warm – is there anything I can get you –
Jos. Hold my hand.
Hel. It won't last long. It'll soon be finished and done with, and then we can all go home. Blow your
nose – it isn’t so bad now, is it?
Jos. No – I bet is is a false alarm. OH! Talk to me – tell me something – a story.
Hel. What about? What shall it be? The story of my life?
Jos. That should be red-hot.
Hel. I’ll start at the beginning and see where it leads me. I was born – in the time honoured fashion –
some of us are born out of love – it might be lust, but with me – I think it was a misconception.
Jos. Didn't you tell me once that you were born with one of those caul things round your head?
Hel. You remember? Yes – I was . A caul about my head at birth. I sometimes think they forgot to
remove it. It's been there all this time – growing as I grew – and each year becoming a little bit thicker
in some places and a little bit thinner in others – threadbare patches through which a spot of light
occasionally filters. A few spots of light which show me up for what I am – not the Helen I see – not
the Helen you see – but the Helen Christ Almighty sees – being such a rough weather Catholic, Jo, I
could never totally disbelieve in the existence of an all seeing – all-knowing, all powerful being – the
seeds of witchcraft, planted deep and early in life are difficult things to dig out – much as we try – are
you allright?
Jos. I am now.
Hel. Where has that ambulance got to?
Jos. I don't need it.
Hel. You'll be better in a hospital where we can keep an eye on you.
Jos. You mustn't come with me.
Hel. You can't go alone.
Jos. Geof'll be here – and if he isn't you can tell him where I've gone. But you mustn't come with me.
Hel. Geof! Geof! Poor little Geof! So you don't want me to trot along to the hospital with you – in that
case there's no need for me to stay on here. I may as well go now. It doesn't seem that I'm much of a
hand at ladling out the motherly comfort.
Jos. I didn't ask for your motherly comfort.
Hel. How long do you think Geof will be?
Jos. I don't know – but you can leave now. I'm fine. A minute ago I felt as if a wild animal was kicking
around inside me but now – it's quietened down.
Hel. (walking towards door) You're supposed to have a little bag packed ready for this – I can hear
the ambulance siren. So you don't want me to come?
Jos. No.
Hel. Then I won't press my suit. (opens door for ambulance men) Here's the body.
1st Man. Right!
Jos. I can walk to the ambulance – but I think its all a mistake. I'm feeling fine now.
2nd Man. Where's your bag – in the bedroom?
Jos. Yes.
2nd Man. I'll get it.
Jos. It's good that I can walk to the ambulance – I bet you two couldn't carry me –
1st Man. We've carried bigger loads than you.
Hel. They're a couple of fine-looking youngsters.
2nd Man. Ready?
1st Man. Husband?
Hel. This young woman is one of the worlds unfortunates – he done her wrong.
1st Man. Don't we all – Are you her mother?
Hel. No – no – I'm just a welfare worker, sent along from the Institution For the Care of Sick
Gentlewomen In Distressed Circumstances.
1st Man. I suppose she'll be allright on her own.
Hel. I'll send her friend along when he gets back.
1st Man. You've got the address?
Hel. Everything.
1st Man. Come on then – lets go. Now don't stand there, sweet heart – looking as if the world's going
to drop on top of you. We've had half a dozen like you this morning and they're all fine – come on –
Jos. I don't feel ill at all – I bet you have to bring me back.(exit. Helen stands for a minute against the
closed door. She walks over to the window. Geoffry comes in –)
Geo. Where is she?
Hel. Two men in white coats removed her –
Geo. The baby?
Hel. You needn’t worry – she'll be allright. Or isn’t she your sole concern?
Geo. Does she want me to go along to the hospital?
Hel. You've come this far with her – there's no sense in stopping now.
Geo. Will she be allright?
Hel. Anything is possible – she hasn't taken care of herself. But she's young – I think she'll be fine!
What happens to you when this thing is finished?
Geo. I've got a job lined up with the local ballet company – yes! That should just suit me, shouldn't it?
We all know what little devils these ballet dancers are. But the sooner I'm out of this lot the better –
I'm no use to anyone – I may as well sling my hook in the air and float off.
Hel. You're the sort who'll float from bad to worse.
Geo. It doesn't matter.
Hel. Now listen – I'm not the sort of person who offends other people – I just tell them what I think and
if they don't like it that’s their fault – and I'm telling you something! You've put all your eggs into a
basket that was built of smoke – and smoke isn't a suitable raw material for building anything. I know
how you feel about her, Geoffrey, but you –
Geo. Please be quiet! It doesn't matter what I am – what I've been or what I'm going to be.
Hel. Is it that you want my daughter in particular or will any woman do?
Geo. Why? Are you going to offer your services?
Hel. If I thought it'd do you any good I would – but I think you're hopeless. You're a nice enough
person but oh! There are some things I can't take – and your unwholesome tendencies are among
them.
Geo. Allrightl We all know what a willful little pervert I am – lets try and forget it, shall we? Has she
been eating this salami stuff again? I don't think it's good for her, you know – perhaps it'll do her some
harm – she mightn't be allright. She might die!
Hel. No – I think not. There'll be no tragic death scene in our play – we'll all live to see another day.
Which is a bloody shame because I can't stand unhappy endings.
Geo. Has Jo told you anything about the father of the baby?
Hel. Nothing too significant – so far we've established his sex.
Geo. He's a coloured boy.
Hel. Black?
Geof. Black.
Hel. Huh! Black! I often think it signifies something that the majority of men should care so anxiously
and fret for the pure strain of their animal stock and yet attach such little importance to the breed of
their children. Still! A blackman – a redman? lt can't make much difference now. But what about you –
my unhappy little man? What will become of you? You seem to be stuck somewhere between sunset
and sunrise. You've played wet-nurse to my daughter for too long! But don't look so sad. Smile!
You've got nothing to smile about but everybody tells us to smile when we feel like bawling our eyes
out – it is a pretty Gdforsaken policy I know but there we are. You've got a problem, boy. Now you
must deal with it. You see the problem – you shed a few tears over it. You face it or you ignore it. You
either overcome it or it overcomes you. Rise above it or sink beneath it. There can be no
compromise. That's how it is. And now – the venerable sage prepared to leave – she gathered
together her gloves – her coat and her bag – but wait! There might be further unadulterated pearls of
wisdom yet to fall from her adulterated mouth – are you listening or am I talking to a brick wall? Yes –
I can see you find my conversation anything but diverting just at present. I'll go – do you want a lift to
the hospital? The car's outside –
Geo. No. If I go the hospital I'll walk there. Have you got a cigarette?
Hel. Take these. Have you got a light? No – here –
Geo. Thanks.
Hel. Now I suppose you'll smoke yourself silly! Pacing the floor in the time honourned tradition of the
expectant father.
Geo. I almost think this baby is mine – I've worried and fretted about it for so long.
Hel. And another little dream bit the dust! Buck up, my lad – you're too young to die of a broken
heart. This isn't a puce coloured novelette!
Geo. You were right about my putting all my eggs – and pretty rotten eggs they are too! – into one
basket! It was stupid of me to stay here – living in a fools paradise like everyone else. I tried to help
her – I didn't know what else to do – at least, I knew but I was too backward in coming forward – I
don't suppose my running round after her – cooking her meals and making her bed – was the best
way of impressing her with my big, virile masculine self! I could only help her like a big sister – little
mother! OH! Christ! Dear Jesus Christ! What use am I to anyone – what use or ornament am I? I love
her! To be with her is everything. To be without her is – oh! Gd! I might just as well be without my
head!
Hel. I think I'd better stay with you a while. You're upset.
Geo. You can go.
Hel. Sure?
Geo. You needn't worry – I'm in full possession of myself. I know exactly what I'm doing. It’s over. I
can't kid myself any longer. It's finished. Now I've got that straight I'm allright.
Hel. Then I'll go – you've got our address if you ever need anything. I'm very free with my husbands
money – you won't find it necessary to suffer financially. You've spent enough of what little bit you've
got on Jo. Goodnight!
Geo. Goodnight. When she comes out of the hospital I suppose she'll finish up in your home. I hope
so. I want her – and her chocolate coloured coon. I hate to hear people use that expression.
Chocolate coloured coon! Niggers! That's the sort of talk that makes me cringe. I'd better start tidying
this room up – there's suppose to be a place for everything and everything in its place – but where
the blasted place is I'll never know. (he picks up the carving knife) A carving knife – and a salami
sausage – (Helen exits) and that's all there is to it! A carving knife! (he picks the rubber doll up) And a
rubber doll! A rubber doll – a life-like replica of a rubber doll. Like me – the nearest I'll ever get to a
son and heir. Never mind, Geoffrey – you've got an empty room – all the curtains drawn – (he pulls
the curtains together) – the doors locked (he locks the door) – all the fires put out. (He lies back on
the couch – the doll in his hand. The curtain comes down.)

The End.
Thank God!
 ‘ONE OF THE MANY ENDINGS’ by Joan Littlewood

Hel. Anyone at home? Well, here we are again. You see, I couldn't stay away, could I?
Jos. Hallo Helen.
Hel. Well, the old place looks a bit more cheerful. Here, some flowers for you. The barrows are
smothered with ‘em. Oh! How I carried that lot from the bus stop I don’t know. Still, it's a lovely day
for flitting.
Jos. Would you like a cup of tea?
Hel. Or anything stronger? Oh no, of course you haven't! Go on then, I'll have a cup with you.
Jos. Are you moving again?
Hel. Come and let's have a look. I arrived just in time by the look of things. Well, is everything
straight forward?
Jos. Yes.
Hel. You’ve had a regular check-up have you - and doing all your exercises and all the stuff they go
in for nowadays?
Jos. Yes.
Hel. Got everything packed?
Jos. What for? I'm not going into hospital.
Hel. You're not having it here, are you?
Geof. (entering with tea) Yes, she made up her mind to have it at home.
Hel.Oh my God, is he still here? I thought he would be.
Geof Piece of cake, Jo?
Jos.Yes, please.
Hel. You can't have a baby in this dump, Jo. Why don't you have a bit of sense for once - and go
into a hospital where they can look after you properly. They've got everything to hand you properly.
After all, the first one can be a bit tricky.
Geof There's tricky, it's perfectly straight forward.
Hel. Who are you, the Flying Doctor?
Jos. I've made up my mind, I hate hospitals. I want to have it here.
Hel. Have you ever been in a hospital? Oh come on.
Geof. I’ve arranged for the District Nurse to see her here.
Hel. Oh my God, my feet are killing me. However I got that lot from the bus stop I don’t know.
Jos. What did you want to drag all that with you for?
Hel. I've come to look after you haven’t I? Just as well from what I can see.
Jos. Well, it's going to be a bit crowded. Where’s your husband. will he be coming in and all?
Hel. I don’t mind sleeping on that couch
Jos. That's Geoffrey's bed.
Geof It's all right, Jo, I don't mind moving out.
Jos. Don’t be silly, Geoff, you don't have to start wilting away whenever she barges in.
Hel. Oh my God, I could do with a drink -
Jos. You’re just like a bull in a china shop.
Hel. Eh, what’s that you say?
Jos. I said, you’re like a bull in a China Shop.
Hel. I've been called that before. I’ve brought you some things for the baby, Jo. I’m damned if I
know where to put them. (to Geoffrey) Look here, can’t you make yourself scarce for a minute?
I've come here to talk to my daughter.
Geof I'll go down to the shops, Jo, we need some things for the weekend.
Jos. You don't have to let her push you around. What a couple of old women.
Geof Have you seen my pack?
Jos. I’ve nothing to discuss with her that you can’t hear.
Hel. How long is he going to stick around here, bloody little pansies. I hate him.
Jos. If you're going to start insulting Geoffrey you can get out and never come back.
Hel. I'm not insulting him. I just don't like his style, that's all.
Geof. I'm sorry about that, Mrs. Smith …
Hel. I’d like five minutes alone with her if you don’t mind. Is that too much to ask?
Geof. Do you need any cotton wool, Jo?
Hel. Does he knit as well?
Jos. Geoffrey, please don't bother to go.
Geof. I'll only be five minutes. (Geoffrey goes)
Hel. You don't mean to say he’s gone?
Jos. Well, now that you've been rude to my friend …
Hel. What an arty little freak. How was I rude to him. I never said a word.
Jos. He’s my friend, the only one I’ve got.
Hel. Should have thought you could have found yourself something more like a man.
Jos. Why are you so nasty to him?
Hel. I wasn’t nasty. I couldn’t talk to you in front of him, could I? Look, I’ve got some things for the
baby.
Jos. You hurt people’s feelings and you don’t even notice.
Hel. I just wanted to get rid of him. Don’t you want to see what I’ve brought? Look, aren’t they
pretty! Your baby will be dressed like a prince.
Jos. We're all princes in our own little kingdoms. You are not to upset Geoffrey, Hel. he’s not one of
these arty little queers you see hanging out. He may look like it but he’s not.
Hel. Isn't that lovely, look Jo.
Jos. So what do I owe this unexpected pleasure anyway, Helen. Has your husband kicked you out?
Hel. I had to be with you at a time like this, hadn't I? Have you made any attempt to trace this
admiral of yours? He's entitled to help his child, you know.
Jos. I wouldn't do that, it's degrading.
Hel. And what do you call this set-up?
Jos. I’ll work for the baby, I don’t need anybody.
Hel. Who's going to look after it, your head cook and bottle washer?
Jos. Me! I can do it. I can do anything if I make up my mind to it. What have you got to preach
about. [?] what you [fear? ] yourself.
What on earth made you chose such a ghastly district. What does the little lady want: an
engagement ring.? And now he's thrown you out, hasn't he, and you have to come crawling back to
me.
Hel. Oh well, it was good while it lasted.
Jos. Making a fool of yourself over that throw-back.
Hel. He threw his money about like a man with no arms.
Jos. This is my flat now, Helen.
Hel. I've got a bit of money left.
Jos. You're a real brass.
Hel. Now then, enough of that.
Jos. Do you think you want my baby for yourself? Yes, perhaps you think it will bring him back,
you're still in love with him.
Hel. Love? Me? You must be mad. Anyway, he's gone off with his bit of crumpet. Still, it was good
while it lasted. Ships that pass in the night. Well, I suppose I’d better unpack this junk.
Jos. So we're back where we started. Same old story. All those months you stayed away from me
because of him! Just like when I was small.
Hel. I hate trouble.
Jos. So you stayed away.
Hel. Well I’m back, aren’t I. Forget it; don’t keep on. Oh, there's no trouble.
Jos. And there wasn’t any trouble. I feel marvelous. I'm performing a perfectly natural function.
That’s all that seems to matter. Nothing else counts. I feel as though I could take care of the whole
world.
Hel. I've got a lovely cot for you.
Jos. We've got one - look.
Hel What’s that?
Jos. Wicker work, the old girl downstairs made it.
Hel. It's a bit old-fashioned, isn't it?
Jos. We like it. I think I’ll go and lie down. I’ve got a headache.
Hel. Go on then. I'll tidy this place up.
Jos. Geoff’s already done it. (Helen gets a bucket and mop. She hums to herself and starts doing
the floor moving everything out of the kitchen. Geoff comes back)
Geoff. Where is she?
Hel. In there! Don’t go in, she’s trying to get some sleep.
Geof. I wouldn't dream of going in.
Hel. Can you put your shopping on the table please. I'm just tidying this place up.
Geof. I turned it out just before you came.
Hel. Look, son, we're going to have the midwife running in and out of here. We’ve got to have the
place clean.
Geof. It is clean. (Helen ignores him.)
Jos. Is that you, Geoffrey?
Geof. Yes, Jo.
Jos. Have you got any aspirins?
Geof. Yes, I'll get you some. (He takes the pack out)
Hel. Put my flowers in water while you’re at it, love. (He goes.) What the devil's he got here? - salami
- Sausage - I ask you, look at that – garlic – anchovies - what's all this?
Geof. What’s all what?
Hel. This!
Geof. She likes that sort of food. I like getting her what she likes. (He takes Jo the aspirin.)
Hel. There’s reason in everything. Good God. And you can throw that bloody thing out. I’m not
going to put my grandchild in a thing like that.
(Helen shifts furniture and mops the floor, humming to herself. Geof stands holding the cradle)
Hel. The place is filthy! What have you been doing to it for Gods sake. Mind your feet. Well, don’t
just stand there looking silly holding that silly looking thing - give it away, do something! I've ordered
a proper cot of the latest design, etceteras and everything.
Geof. I don’t know where to put it. Besides, Jo likes it.
Hel. Give it to me for goodness sake. It’ll do for summat. (She goes into the Kitchen)
Geof. (goes to the bed softly) Jo!
Hel. (returning) And look son, you can take all that stuff with you when you go.
Geof. She won’t eat ordinary things.
Hel. She’ll eat what’s good for her. There’s no goodness in all that finger muck.
Geof. You do what you like with it. I don’t need it, thanks. (Helen goes on cleaning). Mrs. Smith, I
want to say something. I’m not meaning to be nasty. I don’t want to cause trouble at a time like this.
I think I know what’s best for Jo. So will you please, please not frighten her.
Hel. You what?
Geoff. Don’t frighten her again.
Hel. What are you talking about?
Geof. I know I’ve got to leave her with you. I can see that. But women don’t always help each other.
It’s not their fault, they just don’t. She said she didn’t want a woman with her when she had it. She
said she wanted me. She said she wouldn’t be frightened if I was there.
Hel. How disgusting.
Geof. What did you say?
Hel. A man in the room at a time like that!
Geof. Husbands stay with their wives.
Hel. Are you her husband? I’m sorry about your problems, son, but this isn’t a clinic.
Geof. Well, don't frighten her again.
Hel. I’ll bash your bloody brains out if you don’t get out of here. Go and take your simpering face
out of it you pansified little apology for a man, telling me what to do about my own daughter.
Geof. The one thing that civilisation could do nothing about, women. (He walks to the bed and says
softly) Good-bye Jo, and good luck.(He goes. The children are heard singing Geogie Porgy. Helen
is busy.)
Hel. That’s got rid of him, Jo. She’s asleep. I mustn’t disturb her. (she is clumsy). What a dump. He
never gave her her flowers. (She takes the flowers in a vase into the inner room.)
Jos. Helen!
Hel. Hullo Jo. Are you awake?
Jos. Helen, what's it like? Is there much pain?
Hel. No! It's not so much pain, Jo, as hard work. I was putting my Christmas pudding up on a shelf
when you started on me, standing on a chair as merry as the day.
Jos. Did you – did you yell?
Hel. No, of course not.
Jos. Was there much blood?
Hel. No.
Jos. I had such a funny dream just now.
Hel. You always dream, don’t you.
Jos. I only closed my eyes for a second but I was in a meadow. It was all wet and full of luscious
flowers but the sky was dark, a sort of beige colour, like it is in dreams, and suddenly the earth
opened under my feet. I felt all dizzy. I was just going to fall when somebody got hold of me.
“You’re alright”, he said. “Wake up”. Then I thought it was him standing by my bed but it was you.
Hel. Who are you talking about?
Jos. My father.
Hel. Oh don’t get morbid. Where do you want these flowers?
Jos. Over there. Did Geof come back, Helen?
Hel. No, he didn't.
Jos. Where will you sleep, Helen? I've got so used to old Geof lying on the couch like a watchdog. I
don’t want to disturb him.
Hel. I'll find somewhere.
Jos. I wonder where he’s got to? Oh. We’re off. (She drops the flowers)
Hel. Hold on. I need a drink. It'll pass. Go on, the first one doesn't last long.
(Children’s voices)
Hel. Can you hear those children singing over on the croft?
Jos. Yes, you can always hear them on still days.
Jos. Oh, that’s better.
Hel. When I was young we used to play Five Stones all day long at this time of year. Tops and
hoops in spring. Hopscotch in summer – and then singing games. And after autumn, the Fifth of
November, bonfires in every street, and home made gingerbread. Funny how you remember these
things isn’t it?
Jos. Can you hear that ship in the canal?
Hel. No. We used to live near a place called Shining Clough. I’ve told you about it before, haven’t I?
Jos. No, you haven’t.
Hel. I used to love to climb up there on my own. You could see the mills in the distance, but the
clough itself was covered in moss and you could lie there all day long and no-one would find you.
Shall I make us a cup of tea?
Jos. Yes.
Hel. Oh my God, how do you light this thing. I've forgotten.
Jos. Turn all the knobs. You’re bound to find the right one in the end. And mind you don't gas
yourself.
Hel. I can't find it.
Jos. Geof'll fix it when he comes back.
Hel. No, it's alright.
Jos. Helen!
Hel. Yes.
Jos. Helen! My baby may be black.
Hel. What did you say?
Jos. I said my baby will be black.
Hel. We’ll put him on the stage and call him Blackbird. Don't be silly, Jo. You'll give yourself
nightmares.
Jos. I’m not making it up. It's true.
Hel. What’s true?
Jos. He was black.
Hel. You mean that sailor was a black man?
Jos. Yes.
Hel. Well you filthy little bitch.
Jos. I knew you’d say that.
Hel. Nothing else can happen to me. Can you see me wheeling a pram with a … Oh my God, a
chocolate chip. I need a drink.
Jos. What are you going to do about it?
Hel. Damn-it. Does the nurse know?
Jos. She's black too.
Hel. Perhaps she'll adopt it. Oh My God - Dear father in the starry heavens. Oh you dirty little bitch.
Jos. If you don't like it you can get out. I never asked you to come.
Hel. Where's my hat?
Jos. Where you put it. (She goes). Helen! Where are you going?
Hel. A black man. (To the audience.) I ask you, what would you do? I ask you straight.
Jos. Are you going for a drink?
Hel. I’m going for a soldier.
Jos. Helen. Helen. (Jos. is left alone. The children are heard singing THE BIG SHIP) Do you think
I’ll ever see him again?

PICKANINNI POEM
[the title was written in the manuscript, but poem itself was not quoted in ONE OF THE MANY
ENDINGS. There are many different versions of this poem.
Go to sleep my little picaninni
Mamma’s going smack you if you don’t
Hush a bye rock a bye mammas little baby
There’s going to be a little barmacoo.]