The last Illusion Page 2

in cot) Now sleep my baby. (Kisses baby then goes over to table, picks up one of two empty beer bottles) Two beers tonight...unless you went to the pub. I don't think so - no money. T.V., chicken and chips, a couple of beers, then lie in bed with the baby crying, pretending you're asleep, waiting for yours truly. (Gesture of disgust) Why can't you be a real father? Why don't you ever look at your baby the way Barb's Paul looks at theirs? If you were at least a real father, I could put up with all the rest. Eating, drinking and loafing, that's all you're good for. You're no better than an animal that's all you are, a filthy animal, a nasty rooting pig.

  Are you asleep? I hope so, God, let him be asleep. I couldn't face him tonight. It was almost like Peter knew him. Breath stinking of beer and tobacco, half sozzled, whining for me to come across. (Shudders) It's the long nightie for you again, baby. (As she exits into bedroom) God, let him be asleep. (She switches off lamp)

  (Extended pause)

  Graeme: You're late. I waited up for you. Only just got to sleep. What kept you?

  Sandy: I've had a bugger of a night. Why didn't you get up for the baby?

  Graeme: I was out to it. Was he crying?

  Sandy: He was bawling his head off. How could you sleep through that?

  Graeme: It's so late, I couldn't stay awake.

  Sandy: I'm so tired I could sleep for a week.

  Graeme: You poor baby. I'll rub your back. You don't need to wear that.

  Sandy: No don't, I'm cold. I just want to sleep.

  Graeme (sympathetically): I'll warm you up. That's the spot. Get rid of all that tension. Boss behave himself tonight?

  Sandy: Really, Graeme, I just want to sleep. (Diverting him) Are you working tomorrow?

  Graeme (diverted for the moment): Half a day. They reckon there should be more in a week or two.

  Sandy: You'll have to be up early tomorrow then. Have you set the alarm?

  Graeme: No.

  Sandy: I'll get up at six and get you off.

  Graeme: There's no need for that, baby. You spoil me.

  Sandy: Please don't mess up my hair. (distracting him again) I'll be able to give up my job if work's looking up.

  Graeme (suddenly on edge): Not this again. There's the rent, and a whole bunch of bills.

  Sandy: There's always bills. I'm sick of the pub. Half sozzled blokes, stinking of beer and tobacco trying to maul me.

  Graeme: Who's been trying to maul you?

  Sandy (hastily): No one in particular. I'm just sick of it.

  Graeme: You're tired, baby. Let me rub your back.

  Sandy: It's all right, I just want to sleep.

  Graeme: It'll help you sleep. You know it does you good.

  Sandy: Sure, until you start getting funny.

  Graeme: I won't get funny. Promise.

  Sandy (with emphasis): No.

  Graeme: Well what do you expect, I'm a man aren't I?

  Sandy: I don't feel like it.

  Graeme: You never feel like it.

  Sandy: Well that's because of this stupid job. I'm always tired.

  Graeme: Well you can give up the bloody job.

  Sandy: All right I will. Now can I sleep?

  Graeme: Come on baby, you know you'll like it. Relax and let yourself go.

  Sandy (struggling with him): I don't know how you can enjoy it when you know I don't want it.

  Graeme: You never want it. What's wrong with you?

  Sandy: I must be bloody frigid.

  Graeme: You never used to be like that.

  Sandy: It's all you bloody think of now.

  Graeme: There's no need to bloody swear.

  Sandy: I always swear when I'm tired.

  Graeme: What's the big deal anyway? Just a quickie then I'll leave you alone.

  Sandy: If it's no big deal, why are you always on at me about it?

  Graeme: You don't know what it's like for a man. It's not good for my health. Just give us a helping hand.

  Sandy: Let go of my hand.

  Graeme: Come on love, let's be nice to each other.

  Sandy: No. I've just heard the baby. I can hear him.

  Graeme: I can't bloody hear it.

  Sandy: You never can.

  (Sandy enters living room, switches on lamp.)

  Sandy (as if unable to breathe): Give me some space, I can't breathe. Leave me alone, just leave me alone. Why did I marry you? Why don't you run off, leave me and my baby alone? (suddenly and aggressively) You bastard, you filthy creep, why don't you bloody well die? (now shocked and thoughtful) What did Peter say? Have I ever thought of killing him? Yes, that would be it, cave in that thick skull, shut up that whining mouth. Cut off his.... (interrupts herself as she sees and takes hold of a beer bottle) Coming to bed baby? Yes, just coming. I've got a surprise for you. Changed your mind baby? You'll find out. Just close your eyes They're closed now baby. What's the surprise? (suddenly) This, you filthy perverted animal, this and this and this. (going through the actions of braining him with the beer bottle. Finally she stops and buries her face in her hands.) Leave me alone, leave me alone. (cries)

  Graeme: What's going on out there? Come to bed.

  (Sandy slowly recovers herself, goes out carrying the beer bottle in her hand. Switches off lamp on her way)

  Graeme: What have you got the bottle for? Put it down and get into bed. (Pause) Let me rub your back, it'll help you sleep. (lights fade)

  (The Bar. Sandy behind bar, Dave drinking. Table empty Sandy keeps glancing over at it.)

  Sandy: Drink up Dave, last drinks.

  Dave: Aw c'mon Sandy, one last one for the road.

  Sandy: We're not going through this again. Look at the clock. (teasing) Your wife will be wondering where you are.

  Dave: Not anymore she won't. She's kicked me out.

  Sandy: What?

  Dave: Not man enough for her she said. She was right too. I just couldn't keep up with her. I'm a once a week man myself. She was on at me every night.

  Sandy: You don't have to tell me this you know.

  Dave: To tell the truth, I was boasting about once a week. Once a month is more than enough to keep me on an even keel. Strange idea the Maker had when he gave women a stronger sex drive than men. It was bound to lead to trouble. How do you handle the situation?

  Sandy: Lovers, dozens of 'em.

  Dave (looking at her thoughtfully): Yeah, I'm not surprised. Listen Sandy, I don't like talking about personal things, but something Sue said when she kicked me out has got me worried. (Fixing Sandy with a meaningful stare) Do you think I'm queer?

  Sandy (startled): Well I don't know. Do you find yourself looking at men in a certain way?

  Dave: I don't look at anyone in a certain way. That's the problem. I was reading in a magazine the other day, that you can go through years of your life acting normally, you know what I mean - normal desires and that, and then suddenly, no warning at all, pouf, you've turned you're a queer.

  Sandy: It wouldn't surprise me. But look, it's closing up time now.

  Dave: You're waiting for him, aren't you?

  Sandy: Him?

  Dave: Yeah, the bloke who fancies himself, and sits over there night after night. Where is he now?

  Sandy: How should I know?

  Dave: A few tete a tetes over the past week or two after the bar closes, eh?

  Sandy: I talk to all my customers.

  Dave: You don't have to worry about me. I'm all for it. If Sue had got herself a boyfriend to keep her smiling, she might not have had to kick me out.

  Sandy: You're talking rubbish. There's nothing going on. He's probably drinking somewhere else, or watching TV. at home.

  (Peter enters and goes to the bar. Dave laughs)

  Peter: What the hell are you laughing at, you drunk? Get out of here, it's past 12.

  Sandy: What do you think you're doing?

  Dave: You can't speak to me like that.

  Peter: What do you think I've just done? Get out now. (Peter manhandles
Dave out through the door)

  Dave: There's laws against this, I'll call the police.

  Peter: Go ahead and call them, now get the hell out of here.

  (Dave is now out)

  Sandy: Bloody hell, Peter, you'll get me the sack. Who do you think you are?

  Peter: I'm sick of pretence. I'm sick of playing the game. This is it, the night of decision.

  Sandy: What are you talking about?

  Peter (Pacing): Night after night at that table, waiting till closing time, slowly going mad, catching your eyes once and again, a snatch of conversation, waiting till the bar clears, then the desperate time alone, trying to fit in a lifetime in a short hour before you think you've tested his patience as far as you dare. We can't go on like this, I won't share you with him. Run away with me now.

  Sandy: What are you saying, I can't just run off like that. I've got a baby.

  Peter: For once in your life, take a risk. What have you got to lose?

  Sandy: Only two months we hardly know each other.

  Peter: We've known each other for ever. This is fate.

  Sandy: You're talking like a madman.

  Peter: That's it, you're right, I am a madman and you've driven me to it. You're a part of me now, you're under my skin. I think of you all the time. Don't you know what you've done to me?

  Sandy: What I've done to you?

  Peter: Yes, what you've done. In two short months, such a change has come over me. Don't you remember me when I first came in here sour and cynical, passionless, an observer of life who had given up living. And then you came into my life, a spark, making me young again And what about you? I remember you as you were then defeated and resigned going through the motions, stuck in a situation you could see no end to. You've also changed, Sandy, and I flatter myself that I had something to do with it. Haven't you felt it? For God's sake don't tell me you haven't. Don't tell me I've made a complete fool of myself.

  Sandy: Well...

  Peter: Well have you felt anything?

  Sandy: You haven't made a fool of yourself.

  Peter: That's all I wanted to hear. Don't you believe that it's fate? Separately we were nothing, but together we have the power to change the world. Come on, now, back to my place. Let's make mad passionate love throughout the night. Let us see the new dawn together.

  Sandy: I can't, I...

  Peter: 0 weak in spirit. Don't say can't, say can. Say it. It's fate. It's written in the stars. Damn the consequences.

  Sandy: But Peter, I have a husband and baby.

  Peter: There you go, thinking of consequences.

  Sandy: But I have to.

  Peter: There are no have tos in life except those we make for ourselves. I'm offering you a new life a life with me, new life for both of us.

  Sandy: Is it possible?

  Peter: It is, it is. (He kisses her passionately) Now, there's not a moment to lose. Come with me.

  Sandy: Slow down, it's all moving too quickly.

  Peter: Seize the moment, the moment is now, a new life for us together.

  Sandy: Look, it's late now. Graeme will be asleep, or at least he'll pretend he is. I'll sneak in, grab a few things I need, get the baby...

  Peter: The baby? Look, it's you and me, a beginning. The baby, it's a part of him it's the old life. You have to leave it behind.

  Sandy: What, you have to be joking. My baby.

  Peter: His baby I've never been more serious.

  Sandy: But I can't.

  Peter: There you go, using that word again.

  Sandy: You don't understand.

  Peter: Look at it this way every time I – you - look in that baby's face what will we see? Him! His eyes, nose, mouth. As it grows, his gestures, his walk, his brutishness. You've told me yourself what he's like. Haven't you ever heard of heredity? Do you want to nurture a viper at your breast?

  Sandy: My baby needs me.

  Peter: Your baby will be all right. Babies are always looked after. Everyone loves babies. You've got a mother haven't you? She can look after it. And he'll soon fix himself up with a new wife I've seen it all before his type always does. He loves his comforts too much. Then she can raise his baby.

  Sandy: But that's the point. It's my baby.

  Peter: Born out of passion and joy? It's him, the old life. It's now we're talking about, a new dawn the moment of decision.

  Sandy: Peter, you've left me behind. I can't make a decision like this on the spur of the moment.

  Peter: It's the best kind of decision to make.

  Sandy: Please, Peter, please.

  Peter: It's the frailty of the weaker sex. You don't have the courage.

  Sandy: I need time to think.

  Peter: Come home with me.

  Sandy: I can't, not tonight.

  Peter (making a gesture with his hand to touch her. She turns away): Then be damned. (He turns and goes out.)

  (lights fade)

  (Sandy enters living room, switches on light. Goes to baby. While she is there, Graeme enters from bedroom.)

  Graeme: You're late again. Come to bed.

  Sandy: In a minute.

  Graeme: No, now, I've got to get up early to work. I need a good night's sleep.

  Sandy: I'm not stopping you.

  Graeme: What's going on? I'm getting sick of this, night after night.

  (Pause)

  Sandy: I'm leaving you.

  (Pause)

  Graeme: What?

  Sandy: You heard.

  (Pause)

  Graeme: You can't leave.

  Sandy: You watch me.

  Graeme: You've got a baby you've got me. You can't just walk out. What's the matter a bad night?

  Sandy: You're the matter. It's us. I can't stand it any longer.

  Graeme: You can't just come in and say you're leaving. You've got to have a reason.

  Sandy: I've told you. I'm stifling. I'm dying here.

  Graeme: You're not making sense. Come to bed, you'll feel better in the morning.

  Sandy: I won't feel better in the morning. I never feel better in the morning. It just goes on and on. Don't you understand? This isn't a sudden whim. It's been building up for months; Maybe since the day we started living together. It just can't go on. I can't go on.

  Graeme: It's another man.

  Sandy: No it's not. (Pause) Yes it is. It's part of it. It was the spark. It was going to happen anyway. He's made me see reality instead of pretending that everything's all right. He's held up a mirror to me, and I don't like what I see.

  Graeme: Have you gone to bed with him?

  Sandy (exasperated): What difference does that make?

  Graeme: A bloody big difference.

  Sandy: Yes I have. (Pause) No I haven't. If you'd got any brains you'd know it's far worse than that.

  Graeme: Who is he? A drinker at the pub?

  Sandy: No. Yes. He's more than that. He's a writer.

  Graeme: I see. I'm not good enough for you.

  Sandy: No, you're not bloody good enough for me.

  (Pause)

  Graeme (quietly and vindictively): I can see it all now. Some flash smart alec turns up at the pub, spends the night perving on you, then spins you this line. He's a writer. My aunt's the Pope. He understands you. He thinks you've got quality. You're a cut above the others. He says you're intelligent, refined, a real lady. Your husband's thick. He doesn't understand you. He doesn't appreciate your rare qualities. But Mr. Flash Harry the writer will pull you out of the gutter. He'll be your knight in shining armour.

  Sandy (pointedly): Don't you think I have any rare qualities?

  Graeme: I've hit the nail on the head, haven't I? I thought you'd got more sense, girl. First conman who comes along with a smooth line, and you're ready to throw in all your responsibilities.

  Sandy: Yes, yes, I am. You might be right. But I don't care. At least he offers me something. You offer me nothing.

  Graeme: And what do you 'think you give me? It t
akes two. When do you think of me?

  Sandy: It's all my fault then?

  Graeme: It's not my bloody fault. You're the one who wants to walk out.

  Sandy: And you want everything to stay the same.

  Graeme: Just a bit more consideration. I'm content.

  Sandy: Well I'm not. I'm not here just for your comfort. I won’t be your little slave. I'm not your property. I won't be your concubine. I won't be your prostitute.

  Graeme: Big words. Did you get them off him? What about responsibility? Did he mention that? Did he tell you you're a selfish bitch?

  Sandy: Selfish you invented the word.

  Graeme: Go to your writer then. See if I care.

  Sandy: I will, I will.

  (Baby cries keeps crying through all that follows.)

  Graeme: See what you've done now. (Goes into bedroom)

  (Sandy goes to baby, tries to quieten it but fails.)

  Sandy: Hush, hush, Momma's here, go to sleep, hush, hush, don't cry. (Gradually losing control) Come on, shut up will you. Looking at me with your father's eyes. What do you want of me? Always on at me. Two of a kind, Shut up, shut up. (Puts baby down in cot, goes to other side of room. Blocks ears. Paces. Recovers control. Returns to baby. Picks it up) It's all right. Don’t cry. Momma loves you. Hush, hush, everything's all right. (sings) Rock a bye baby in the tree top, when the wind blows the cradle will rock, when the bough bends the cradle will fall ... Your father's nose and mouth. (Quoting Peter) When you walk, his walk. When you grow, his gestures. His voice, his manners. Him, him, him. Shut up you little viper. Shut up, shut up. (Again takes herself to the other side of the room. Regains control. Returns to baby, picks it up. Rocks it) Hush, hush. Come on. For Godsake, I can't stand it. What are you trying to do to me? (Puts baby in cot, collapses to ground, crying, hands to ears.)

  (Graeme comes out)

  Graeme: You're bloody useless you are. (He takes her by the arm, directs her into the bedroom. He then goes to baby, takes it out, rocks it. Baby soon settles down.) Go to sleep, it's all right. I'll sort out mother, I know how to get round her. Go to sleep. When you wake up, everything'll be normal again. Go to sleep. (He replaces baby in cot and goes back to bedroom, switching off lamp on his way) (From bedroom) He's all right now, I settled him down.

  Sandy: Thank you.

  Graeme: You know, holding him in my arms there, and looking into his face, he's more like you every day.

  Sandy: Is he?

  Graeme: The eyes especially, the same warm gentle look. Reminds me of my own mum's too.

  Sandy: Really?

  Graeme: Truly.

  Sandy: I just want to sleep and sleep and sleep.

  Graeme: Lie down, pet. Let me rub your back.

  (lights fade)

  (In living room. Knock on door. It is daytime. Sandy comes in from bedroom and lets Peter in.)

  Sandy: You!

  Peter: Well?

  Sandy: I told you not to come here.

  Peter: Things have changed since then. I've changed my mind.

  Sandy: So have I.

  Peter: Oh?

  Sandy: Isn't it strange. You can be living in a certain way or slowly dying but it's all you know, and it seems it's always been that way, and it always will. But then something happens, and you know that nothing can ever be the same again. All at once, in a rush, your whole life turns upside down, and nothing is certain not even where you'll have your next meal.

  Peter (impatient): Get to the point.

  Sandy: Last night, when you gave me the ultimatum about leaving Graeme and the baby I really believed I was going to do it. And then when you came back for me as I was leaving the pub, I told you all I needed was time to get used to the idea. In my heart of hearts, I had already decided to leave everything for you.

  Peter: I don't like the tantalising drift of your words.

  Sandy: I had a row last night with Graeme. I told him I was leaving him.

  Peter: Good, good.

  Sandy: But we made up. We made love.

  Peter: What?

  Sandy: Yes, like when we first met only different. It was more fulfilling. He told me