Cell Mates Page 2
Blake The cause, what cause?
Bourke You, George – the cause of you. I needed financial support, you see. While I was on the job. Food and accommodation. And for renting the car. Philip was very generous.
Philip Well, I gave what I could. Nothing on the scale of Nigel and Annie. Or Dick even. (To Bourke.) She’ll be here in a minute, I’m sure.
Blake Who?
Philip Well, Miranda.
Blake Miranda? Who’s Miranda?
Bourke She’s the wife, George, that’s all.
Blake The wife, the wife, whose wife? This can’t be real, can’t be, must be my head –
Bourke Rest your head, George, don’t upset yourself, no need, it’s all under control –
Blake Whose wife? (Almost screaming.) Whose wife?
Bourke His.
Philip Well, actually she’s not my wife, Sean, didn’t you realise that? But she would be if she wanted to get married. She’s taking her time, you see. Finding out. She’s very independent. Quite right too. Actually, to tell you the truth, we’re going through a bit of a bad patch at the moment.
Bourke Oh no, Philip, not again.
Philip Anyway, please don’t be put off by her manner. Obviously you’re a rather awkward proposition for her, professionally, she has to protect her interests –
Blake (gapes at Bourke) What professionally? What?
Bourke (evasively) She’s a lovely girl, George. With a good heart.
He gives Philip a warning look, which Philip doesn’t notice.
Blake Good heart? Good heart?
Philip She’s not doing it just for me, you know. She’s doing it for you too. She feels as strongly about you morally as I do. Though we can’t go all the way with you, ideologically speaking, we both respect – no, speaking for myself, more than respect, I admire the courage with which you’ve acted on your principles. As you believed, so did you live. And so shall I write to that effect.
Blake Write, write, you’ll write –
Philip Yes, I’m a journalist.
Blake (in a moan) A journalist. Yes, please. And a camera, could we have some cameras here too? I could get back into my prison garb –
Bourke George!
Blake – and pose with the police before they take me back to jail.
Bourke Philip’s not that sort of journalist, George. Will you trust me, trust me, will you –
Philip I write on matters of conscience. Strictly matters of conscience.
Bourke Conscience. There. You see.
Philip That’s how I met Nigel and Annie. And old Dick too. Covering all the CND rallies – the marches, Aldermaston for the New Statesman – so I wasn’t sent to jail. Like Nigel and Dick. Shameful. Shameful. Sent to jail for their beliefs. Just like you. I often wish I had been – (Laughs.) Well, just for the eighteen months. So I could have met people like you.
Bourke There aren’t any people like George, Philip.
Blake No, I’m very special. I wasn’t doing eighteen months. I was doing forty years. And probably will again. Sean! Sean!
He clutches Bourke’s arm.
I’m sorry, Sean. Just testing. For reality.
Bourke I’m real enough for our purposes, George. You’re safe. And you’ll be sound. I promise it.
Blake Thank you, Sean. But there’s a question hanging about somewhere in my head. About – about – the girl with a good heart, is that it?
Bourke George, you’ll oblige me by sitting down. And stop fretting, eh?
There is a pause.
Philip (to Bourke) Am I allowed to know how you did it?
Blake Don’t tell him, Sean! You mustn’t.
Bourke It’s no secret, George. It’ll be public knowledge tomorrow. If it isn’t already. The how of it.
Blake Yes, yes, the how of it, but not the who of it – you mustn’t tell him who.
Bourke George, George, he knows the who. He’s looking at the who and asking about the how.
Blake But he’s not to tell anybody who –
Bourke He knows that, George.
Blake Does he? Do you? Do you know that?
Philip Yes, of course I know it. I mean – I mean, well I’m not actually mad. (Laughs slightly.) If they find out it’s Sean, they’ll find out about Nigel and Annie and Dick and Miranda and me. And we’ll go to jail.
Bourke There. That’s settled then. Eh, George?
Blake The wife, the wife – what was it he said about the wife?
Bourke That they’re going through a bad patch, George, and they’re not actually married. Now, Philip, you wanted to know how we did it. Just as I planned. George sawed through some bars, I threw my rope ladder over the wall. George climbed up it. George fell down the other side. That bit I didn’t plan. His missing his footing.
Blake He tried to catch me. Went through his arms.
Bourke Broke the fall though, George.
Blake Yes. Broke the fall, Sean. Thank you.
Philip And then you just got into the car? And drove here?
Bourke That’s it. That’s the whole story, Philip.
Philip But that’s – that’s – (Laughing.) It’s like something out of a – a comic book!
Bourke Comic book!
Philip Sawing through bars, a rope ladder –
Bourke (suddenly angry) A comic book! That’s what you think, is it?
Philip Well, so simple –
Bourke Here. Here, you listen to this! Listen to this!
Bourke goes to table, picks up tape recorder, winds it back, presses ‘Play’ button.
Bourke (voice on tape recorder) Traffic lights to take notice of. The real bugger is at Halcyon Road where they take two minutes to change from red to green and about twenty seconds to change back to red – you could be stuck for six to eight minutes –
Bourke turns off recorder, stares at Philip, points to piles of tapes.
Look at them, hours and hours of them, me walking around the Scrubs, driving around the Scrubs, detailing all the details, until I knew exactly when, exactly where, to the minute – one chance, I had one chance for George. It took work, work, work to work it out. The precise minute. What does it matter that it was with a hacksaw, a rope ladder, a hired car if it was the only way? It was the precise minute that mattered. Comic book – comic book – you get that in your comic books, do you? Eh, Philip?
Blake See this man here? He’s a genius. Don’t you understand that? Sean Bourke. Sean Alphonsus Bourke. Sheer genius. And a great gentleman. Do you understand? Or don’t you? Eh? (Aggressively, if faintly.)
Philip Yes, look – I’m terribly sorry – the last thing I meant – I can’t tell you how much I admire you. Both of you.
Blake There’s only one of you at last, Sean, thank God. So my head’s clearing at last. (Looks at Philip.) Who did you say you are? There’s almost none of you that I can see. Oh, that’s it! I’ve got it now, his wife, his Miranda, she’s against me professionally, isn’t that what he said, Sean? What does that mean?
Philip Only that seeing you professionally puts her in a dodgy –
Doorbell rings once.
That’s probably her.
Bourke It’s not the signal.
Philip I can’t – can’t remember whether I remembered to pass it on – the signal –
Bourke Oh God, Philip!
Doorbell rings again.
Well, answer the door. If it’s not her, send them away.
Philip (goes apprehensively to the door) I’m not good – not very good – at lying, I’m afraid. (Goes to door, hesitates.) I’ll – I’ll –
Blake Not very good at lying? Who are these people? What’s going on? Sean!
Bourke (goes to stand in front of Blake.) Sit down, George. Not another word from you. Not a word. (To Philip.) You – open the door … open the door.
Philip (opens the door) Oh, Miranda, love, thank God!
Miranda enters, carrying a black bag.
Bourke George – Miranda’s a doctor, George.
Bourke I know, George. But a head injury’s a head injury – I couldn’t take the risk.
Blake She’s the risk you shouldn’t have taken.
Miranda Look, do you want to see me or don’t you?
Bourke (coaxingly) Miranda – Miranda, love –
Miranda Dr Joseph, if you please. (To Bourke and Blake.) And I’ve never seen you two before in my life.
Bourke Dr Joseph, right, Miranda, but whatever he says, he needs you to look at him – he fell off the wall of the Scrubs –
Miranda That’s already more than I need to know about the cause of his injury. Now, do I examine you, or don’t I?
Bourke George! You’ll do it for me.
Blake As you’re here – and been put to such trouble – I would be greatly obliged, (smiles charmingly) Dr Joseph.
Miranda You’ve drunk alcohol from the smell of your breath. Bloody stupid.
Examining Blake’s forehead.
Nasty but superficial. Should heal quickly.
Checks Blake’s eyes and reflexes.
You’re probably in shock and have got mild concussion. (To Bourke.) But he’s right, a head injury’s a head injury. You should go to a hospital for an X-ray.
Bourke But Miranda, he can’t possibly go to a hospital.
Philip No, of course he can’t, Miranda, love.
Miranda I’ve given my professional opinion. Whether it’s taken is not my responsibility. Then I suppose I’ll have to give you a shot of penicillin. (Takes syringe out of bag.)
Blake What? I hate needles. They – they –
Bourke You’ve got to have it, George.
He begins to roll up Blake’s sleeve.
Miranda No, I need a buttock.
Bourke Come on, George.
Blake (trying to push Philip away) I can do it – I can do it – (Tries futilely to undo his belt.)
Bourke No, you can’t, George. Leave it to me.
Philip supports Blake. Bourke undoes Blake’s trousers, pulls down his underpants, bends him over.
Go on now, George – a bit lower – bend over.
Blake is bent over, held by Philip and Bourke, buttocks exposed.
Miranda (jabs syringe) There. (As she packs up.) I’ve one last thing to say. What this man needs above all is sleep. Plenty of it. If he gets it, he shouldn’t require further medical treatment. Which he won’t be getting from me, anyway. Please remember I’ve never seen any of you before. And I shan’t be seeing any of you again –
Philip You’ve been absolutely wonderful, love.
Miranda (to Philip) And that includes you.
Philip What? Oh, Miranda, love – (Takes her arm.) You can’t mean it!
Miranda (snatching her arm away) Oh, yes, I mean it. How could you, how could you let me? Did you give a single thought to my future?
Philip But Miranda love – Dr Joseph – I didn’t make you come. It was your choice, your own personal choice.
Miranda You told me where he was and how he was. You told me he needed help. So you knew I wouldn’t have any choice – none at all.
Philip But we agreed we’d always tell each other everything. And we’re always saying people can’t go through life not knowing things deliberately. The truth is the truth, facts are facts. It’s no good being angry at all the injustices in our society, including him – (pointing to Blake) if it’s just a matter of principle, but when it comes to the actual living and breathing victim – George Blake himself – the George Blake who needs something practical done for him – not just slogans and highminded debates – but there, that George Blake –
Miranda Why do you keep on saying his name? Are you trying to ruin my life, is that what this is about? Because you resent my independence, my having a career – so you’d rather see me struck off and go to jail –
Bourke Miranda, darling, we’ll never mention your name. Even if we’re caught, we’ll never mention it, will we, George?
Philip You see? You’re just overwrought, love. So why don’t you go back to the flat, have a cup of tea and an aspirin and lie down – and when I get back, we’ll talk the whole thing through.
Miranda When you get back to the flat, you’ll find all your things outside the door. You’re moving out, Philip.
Philip Oh, no, I’m not! No, I’m not! For one thing, it’s my flat, I own the lease.
Miranda I’ll buy it from you. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a fair price.
Philip There isn’t a fair price. I’ll never get another flat like 21E Phildeep Gardens for that money – not with a patio and access to the gardens. If you really want us to separate, you’re the one who’ll have to move out. Back to Mummy and Daddy – the Brigadier and his lady wife and their three dogs and bring back hanging and keep out the blacks and as for that swine, George Blake, let him … let him …
Miranda (to Blake and Bourke) I suppose I should be grateful to you. It’s because of you I’ve found out what kind of man he really is.
She makes to open the door, as doorbell rings.
Bourke No, don’t open it!
Miranda has already opened the door.
Sparrow (entering, to Philip) Sorry to call at this late hour, but better than a dawn raid, eh? Sparrow and Week. Property Management Agents. I’m the Sparrow.
During this Bourke has bent over Blake, not yet taken in by Sparrow.
Philip It’s not us. Nothing to do with us. Him you want, I expect. (Gestures towards Bourke.) Well, darling, we’d better be going or we’ll be late. The theatre …
Miranda (pushing past Sparrow) Yes. Much Ado. Zeffirelli’s. At the Old Vic.
Sparrow Well, do enjoy it.
Miranda Thank you.
Sparrow (looks at clipboard in his hand) Well, the him I want is O’Brien, Mr O’Brien?
He looks towards Bourke, who turns.
Bourke (assuming a much stronger Irish accent) Evening, sir. How can I help you, sir?
Sparrow I’m here on behalf of the landlord. Need to look around, make sure everything’s roughly as it ought to be.
Bourke I hope you don’t mind being quick about it, sir. My brother here (stepping aside) was told down at the hospital he needed a good, long lay-down.
Sparrow Oh, I see.
Bourke But you should see t’other fellows, as they say, eh, Seamus?
Sparrow Oh. It was a fight then, was it?
Bourke Well, he’s a peace-loving man, sir, is Seamus, it takes a lot to set him blazin’, but down the pub this noon a couple of ill-advised boyos took it on themselves to say somethin’ inflamin’ ’bout te motter-country, sir, and that did it, d’int it, Seamus?
Blake Yes.
Bourke Take it from me, sir, they’ll be careful what t’ey say about Motter Ireland in future, when t’ey can speak again, t’at is.
Sparrow (laughs nervously) Um – well, excuse me – there’s a question I have to ask. On behalf of my landlords. Um – is he actually living here by any chance, Mr Seamus – Mr O’Brien. O’Brien?
Bourke Oh yes, we’re just a couple of Paddys living here, aren’t we, Seamus? Just a couple of Paddys.
Blake Yes. (Pause.) Begorrah.
Sparrow Be – sorry, Mr O’Brien?
Bourke Begorrah. Yes, begorrah, is what he said. He’s having a bit of trouble connecting thoughts to words. His head –
Sparrow And – is he here – on a permanent basis? Sorry, so sorry to pry like this but the landlords specifically insist that this is a one-person occupancy. The rent is agreed on that basis.
Bourke (suddenly uncertain) Well now, well now, sir, we’re not sure of Seamus’s plans since the incident at noon, are we, Seamus?
Blake Back to ta Emril Isle. Bloddy English. See.
Sparrow Mmm?
Bourke The Emerald Isle, t’at’s Ireland, sir. Going back as soon as he can – because of te – te bloddy English, sir. Pardon me, sir, but in view of what’s happened you’ll und
erstand –
Sparrow Yes, yes of course. And – and on behalf of my fellow countrymen, I’d like to apologise – and if by any chance he’s still here when I come around next month, just, well – (Winks.) Make a point of being out, eh?
Blake Tanks.
Sparrow Now I’ll get on with it – let you get to bed. (Glances rapidly round room, checking off on clipboard.) Bed, cupboard, chest of drawers, mirror, light bulb in place, bookcase, table, lamps, television set – functioning, I’m sure. (Turns it on.)
Voice on TV … two hours ago of the spy, who was jailed for a record forty years. This is the most recent photograph that has been issued. The public are asked to report any sighting to their … local police station, or contact Whitehall 1212 …
Bourke Tat’s moine that is! Paid for out of my own money.
Sparrow Oh, yes, you’re right, quite right – it’s not on the list. Oh, I’m so sorry. So sorry.
Bourke Are you?
Sparrow Yes, yes, very sorry indeed – well now, that’s everything, thank you very much, goodnight, Mr O’Brien, Mr O’Brien.
He hurries to door, exits.
Bourke and Blake stand staring after him, then tum to each other. Bourke lets out a howl of laughter. Blake yelps with feeble laughter.
Bourke Begorrah, begorrah. Oh George, I never in my life heard an Irishman say ‘begorrah’!
Blake But I’m not Irish, Sean. Half Egyptian, half Dutch. So naturally I say ‘begorrah’.
Bourke And Emerald Isle – Emerald Isle – (Laughs again.)
Blake (also laughing) No, don’t, Sean, please – please – my head!
Bourke Yes, the time’s come for you to get what the good Dr Joseph ordered.
He leads Blake towards the bed.
A long rest. Sleep – she’s right. That’s what you need. And a lot of it.
Beginning to undress Blake.
Blake But we’ve only just put them on.
Bourke (continuing to undress Blake) But now the company’s gone. So we can take them off, George.
Blake I may need – need to go to the lavatory, Sean. My bowels, you see –