theatre alibi
Goucher’s War
by
Daniel Jamieson
© Daniel Jamieson 2010
FOR EDUCATION PURPOSES ONLY
1
Goucher’s War
(A grand old trout in a 40s tweed suit sits in a leather armchair, staring into
space. She speaks to us.)
Gwyneth
I suppose it began with stilton, though make no mistake, this
isn't a story about cheese.
It happened completely by accident.
I’d invited my nephew to the Sesame Club in town.
(A man in uniform appears and fetches a plate of stilton and biscuits. He
helps himself to a crafty extra nip of club port.)
Having no children of my own, I'd always had a soft spot for
Gerald, ever since he was a jug-eared little boy. Although he
developed the look of a pompous twit in later life, in actual fact
he had an uncannily sharp mind. It was no surprise to me
when they asked him to form a new secret service at the start
of the war...
Pynchon
Awfully good of you to invite me.
Gwyneth
Nonsense.
Pynchon
How the hell do they still get stilton in here?
Gwyneth
One doesn’t ask but it’s the only reason I keep coming.
So. How’s it going?
(Pynchon looks round warily.)
Come on Gerald, there aren't any spies in here. They'd never
get past the membership committee.
Pynchon
Well. We‘re struggling, to be honest…
Gwyneth
With what exactly?
Pynchon
Oh, sabotage, the wherewithal, you know, strategy,
equipment, that sort of thing - we’re trying to help the French
make life hell for the Germans.
Gwyneth
You shouldn't have any trouble. Mischief was always your
forte.
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Pynchon
I don't know, our boffins are marvellous at developing things
once they’re on the table, they just can't dream them up in the
first place.
Gwyneth
What’s the matter with them?
Pynchon
Their upbringing gets in the way I think. Sabotage just isn’t
cricket.
Gwyneth
Then you've got to find someone who doesn’t play cricket.
Pynchon
We’ve tried, believe me. We can’t find anyone with a vicious
enough imagination…
(He takes a thoughtful munch of cheese and biscuit.)
Anyway. Don't set me off. I'm rather grateful not to think about
it for a moment.
How's publishing?
Gwyneth
Publishing's surprisingly good actually. The vagaries of human
nature never cease to astonish me. Here we are, middle of a
war and demand for a really brutal thriller seems higher than
ever!
Pynchon
(Chuckling,) Really?
Gwyneth
Yes! Those services paperbacks we do, you know what the
most popular title is at the moment? "Dead Men Don‘t Bleed."
Pynchon
You'd think they had enough on their plates...
Gwyneth
It’s the same with the children - father's off to fight, house
flattened in an air raid, you'd think they'd be hankering after a
bit of Beatrix Potter, but no! They all want this beastly pig!
Pynchon
What beastly pig?
Gwyneth
You mean you haven't heard of Hiawyn?
Pynchon
I've been rather busy to keep abreast of children's literature
Auntie...
Gwyneth
He's huge! He sells more than all our other titles put together!
Thoroughly nasty creation if you ask me. We had complaints
from parents when he put farmer Pickles's buttocks on a
bacon slicer...
3
Pynchon
How does the author get away with it?
Gwyneth
By popular demand! The children love him to bits.
This is the best thing though, he's a priest!
Pynchon
The pig?
Gwyneth
No. The author - Reverend Goucher. One wonders where the
hell he gets his ideas from.
(Pause.)
Pynchon
I say, Auntie, you couldn’t let me have his particulars, could
you?
•
(Gwyneth addresses us directly again as Pynchon passes from view.)
Gwyneth
He lived in the North Downs, this Goucher. Abinger Hammer, I
think it was. He was something of a celebrity locally.
(Goucher sits reading from one of his books to an unseen group of
children.)
Goucher
And so, children, the time had come.
The machine had been delivered in twenty thousand separate
parts to Scratching Piggery. Fifteen pantechnicons had
squeezed up the lane to deliver it, then an army of engineers
had laboured for two weeks to bolt the thing together. The din
of construction had been so ferocious, the hens had begun to
lay eggs with the texture of hand grenades. Farmer Pickles
had watched the construction rise up next to the pig shed until
it blotted out the sun. Now, at last, the engineers had gone,
and Pickles stood before the machine, which was veiled with a
white tarpaulin like a giant bride. He couldn’t wait a moment
longer. He grasped the edge of the cloth and slowly… tugged
it… aside… and there it stood… the Pork-o-Matic!
(As he reads, a thought bubble forms above him in which
his mental cartoon of the story unfolds in conjunction
with the words.)
It was all-singing, all-dancing and although it had set him back
a tidy sum, he knew it would make him a tidy sum in the long
run. Indeed, he dreamt it would make him his fortune. A mere
farmer no more, he would be Peter Pickles, Purveyor of
Perfectly Palatable Pork.
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With tears of joy in his eyes, Pickles climbed onto a gantry
over the mouth of the machine. Now to bring her to life!
“Pork-o-Matic!”
The Pork-o-Matic could turn every part of a pig into a juicy bit
of meat, which Farmer Pickles would turn into a juicy bit of
cash.
A conveyor belt began to roll into the mouth of the machine - a
murderous array of slicers and choppers.
“Pigs this Way.”
Now all he needed was a pig…
Pickles
Pig?
Dinner time boy!
Get out ‘ere y’ lazy lump o’ lard!
Goucher
Where was that pig? Pickles went to the pig shed to find him.
Pickles
Pig?
Not a sausage… ‘Ello.
Goucher
It was a note in the neatest trotter-writing you could imagine.
Pickles
“Dear Pickles,
Pork is not the only meat.
Yours, Hiawyn Pig.
(Pickles hears a switch click.)
A conveyor belt…?
“Farmer-o-Matic”…?
“INSERT FARMER HERE”?
(Pickles looks up to see Hiawyn waving from his own control gantry.)
Hiawyn
Enjoy the ride, Pickles!
Goucher
Pickles beat a hasty retreat…
(Pickles smashes through the pig shed wall.)
Needless to say, the experience gave Pickles some pause for
thought, and farmer and pig came to a happy arrangement
that they would both send their machines back to the
manufacturers!
The End.
(The thought bubble over Goucher evaporates and Goucher is fully lit up. A
headmaster in an old-fashioned gown comes in beside him clapping.)
5
Headmaster
Thank you Donald!
Well! Aren’t we lucky children? To have such a famous pig
living on our doorstep?! Although I’m glad he doesn’t live next
to me! I wouldn’t want to end up in a “Headmaster-o-Matic”
machine, would I…!
Lucy Purbright what on earth are you doing to Jonathan?
That’s no excuse, Hiawyn is a pig in a story. See me after.
Now Donald, can you spare a moment to answer a few of the
children‘s questions?
Goucher
Actually I’ve got a wedding at two, Matthew.
Headmaster
Alas. Never mind. Perhaps next time.
Goucher
Goodbye children.
(He goes.)
Headmaster
We shall start playtime a little early children. Everyone except
Lucy Purbright, that is. Mrs Shankey, lead out from the front
please.
•
(Goucher’s wife, Vivian, is getting a bit of lunch in their kitchen. Goucher
comes in.)
Vivian
I thought they were going to give you a school dinner.
Goucher
I didn’t fancy the smell of it. And I’ve got to be at the church in
twenty minutes.
Vivian
There’s not much here I’m afraid. A boiled egg and an onion.
Goucher
That’ll make me popular doing the vows.
Did you get the paper?
Vivian
Yes.
Goucher
What did it say?
Vivian
I don’t know. I’m too scared to look nowadays.
Goucher
Vivian.
Vivian
(She cuts up the food. He looks at the paper. They eat.)
The WI are doing a fundraiser for the YMCA. Mrs Sargent
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asked if you’d read some of your stories.
(He reads.)
I’ll say yes then.
Goucher
Tyranny stalks the globe but Goucher marries people and tells
stories to the Women‘s Institute.
Vivian
Don’t start that again…
Goucher
Do you never feel it though?
Vivian
Yes, but maybe just carrying on as normal is an act of war too.
Goucher
But the absurdity of it. Look. News of Tobruk next to an ad for
Andrews Liver Salts! “You need six good pints of bile to flow
into your bowels a day…” (Pause.) I say, perhaps there’s a
Hiawyn story in mischief with liver salts.
Vivian
“Hiawyn and the River of Bile.”
Goucher
Have you done the crossword?
Vivian
Not all of it.
(They look together. She points.)
“A bit of the course that must be put back”, 5 letters, ends in T.
Goucher
Divot.
Vivian
Oh yes. Try this one clever clogs. “In the old rhyme, a bearer
of scant, rich fruit.” Two words…
Goucher
(Thinks,) Nut tree. (He sings,) I had a little nut tree, nothing
would it bear, but a silver nutmeg and a golden pear.”
(Pause. Goucher peers at the crossword without noticing
Vivian‘s sadness at first.)
What?
Vivian
We're not expecting a little Goucher this month.
(Goucher moves his chair closer and puts his arm round
her.)
Maybe you’ll always be telling your stories to other people’s
children.
Goucher
Nonsense. We’ll just have to try harder, won’t we!
Oh no… Look at the time!
(He gets up.)
7
Was there any post?
Vivian
The proofs of your book.
Goucher
We can look at them tonight.
Vivian
And this.
(She hands him a buff envelope.)
Goucher
What is it?
Vivian
How should I know?
(Goucher opens it and frowns.)
What?
(She moves closer and looks over his shoulder.)
Goucher
It’s from the War Office. The “Inter-Services Research
Bureau”.
Vivian
The what?
Goucher
(Reads,) Colonel Gerald Pynchon requests an interview at 64
Baker Street at 9 o’clock, the 12th of June.
Vivian
That’s Monday.
Goucher
No mention of why.
Vivian
Will you go?
Goucher
Who am I to refuse the “Inter-Services Research Bureau”?
•
(Colonel Pynchon enters and puts up a folding wooden table efficiently.)
Gwyneth
Gerald said he always interviewed at a folding table because a
desk was too like a fortress but having nothing between you left
each man staring at the other’s balls.
(There’s a knock at the door.)
Pynchon
Come in.
(Goucher enters nervously, very much the country mouse up to town. He
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wears a suit with dog collar and has his gas mask strung over his shoulder
in its box.)
Goucher
Colonel Pynchon?
Pynchon
No need for that nonsense. Call me Pynchon. You must be
Goucher.
(They shake hands.)
Goucher
Are we going to play cards?
Pynchon
Ah. You’re deprecating my table.
Goucher
No, no. Just a little… levity.
Pynchon
Now before we start, you’re not to talk to anyone about this,
y’hear? Not even your wife.
Goucher
But… I tell my wife everything.
Pynchon
Not any more. Do I make myself clear?
Goucher
Abundantly.
Pynchon
So. You’ve had a quiet war so far in… (He checks the file,)
…Abinger Hammer, Reverend.
Goucher
The evacuees have livened things up a bit! (No response.)
Yes. Pretty quiet.
Pynchon
If I were to say you could do your country some special
service, what would you think?
Goucher
I would think, what special service could I possibly offer?
Pynchon
Never mind that. Would you help?
Goucher
Naturally, everyone wants to put his shoulder to the wheel…
Pynchon
You sound unsure.
Goucher
Not at all. It’s just I… I don’t know what you might ask me to
do.
Pynchon
How do you feel about the Germans?
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Goucher
I’m sure they’re nice enough individually…
Pynchon
But as a bunch?
Goucher
The Nazis seem to have them pretty much under the thumb.
Pynchon
And how do you feel about the Nazis?
Goucher
I feel that they are the shadiest bunch of thugs who’ve ever
run a country, Colonel Pynchon.
Pynchon
Splendid. Cigarette?
Goucher
No, thank you.
Pynchon
Now. If you were involved in a fight Reverend…
Goucher
I’ve never been in a fight.
Pynchon
Hypothetically then. If your back was against the wall, do you
think it would be right to fight dirty?
Goucher
In the eyes of the church?
Pynchon
In your eyes.
Goucher
I’d say the response had to be proportionate to the threat.
Pynchon
You’re married, aren’t you, Reverend? (Checks again,)
Vivian.
Goucher
You seem remarkably well informed.
Pynchon
Say some chap had Vivian by the throat…
Goucher
I would do my utmost…
Pynchon
Would you kick him in the balls? Poke him in the eye? Come
on! He’s throttling her…!
Goucher
Whatever I could…
Pynchon
He’s got his hand up her skirt now!
Goucher
Yes, dammit. Alright. I see your point.
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Pynchon
Sorry, Reverend. Standard line of questioning.
Goucher
(Mopping his brow,) Standard for what? Am I to be some sort
of special agent?
Pynchon
(Smiling for the first time,) Good Lord no! Your talents don’t
lie in that direction.
Goucher
What on earth do you want me for then?
Pynchon
We’re not sure we do want you yet, Reverend. We’ll be in
touch. Good day. (He starts folding up his table.)
Goucher
Now look here, I’m not a violent man. If it involves anything
like that I shall save you time by saying no now…
Pynchon
You wouldn’t be required to touch a weapon or harm a living
soul.
Goucher
That doesn’t sound very reassuring from your lips, Colonel.
(They part company.)
•
Gwyneth
Goucher very much thought that was that. But a week later he
was ordered to report for duty to Station Nine, which
transpired to be a former country hotel in Hertfordshire, called
The Hough.
(Goucher appears with his orders clutched in one hand,
his suitcase in the other. He peers about. Gwyneth goes
along.)
My nephew had succeeded in fostering quite a remarkable
atmosphere there.
From the moment Goucher stepped through the gates he felt
himself engulfed in a maelstrom of creative energy. Strange to
say, he felt a delirious sense of coming home...
There was this great thing on the grass by the drive which
looked like a searchlight, but apparently wasn’t.
Technician
(Out of sight,) Get out of the way!
Goucher
Who… me?
Technician
Yes, if you want to keep your eardrums!
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(Goucher steps aside. There is an otherworldly pulse of high-powered
sound energy. Goucher scuttles away with his hands over his ears. We
hear a very squeaky trolley passing now.)
Gwyneth
Then the tiniest submarine imaginable was wheeled past him
on a dolly, dripping as if it had just been lifted from a giant
bathtub.
(Now we hear the whinny and clop of a horse.)
And then there was a young woman waiting patiently by the
arse of a tethered horse.
(Gwyneth becomes the young woman with the addition of
a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles.)
Dot
Morning.
Goucher
Good morning.
(Sound of horse defecating.)
Dot
Duty calls.
(She crouches and carefully scoops the pile of dung onto
a large carving plate improvised for the purpose. Goucher
is mortified but Dot is quite unbothered.)
I won’t shake hands.
Goucher
Quite.
Dot
I’m sure we’ll meet again.
(Goucher watches her go off. Pynchon approaches him unseen.)
Pynchon
Tyre busters.
Goucher
Sorry?
Pynchon
They‘re trying to make perfect models of horse turds to fill with
explosive. When a German truck drives over one, boom.
Wheel blown off.
Goucher
Ingenious.
Pynchon
(Offering his hand,) Welcome to the Hough. You’ll have to
forgive that performance at the interview. I’m Gerald. May I
call you Donald?
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Goucher
If you wish.
Pynchon
I suppose you’re wondering what this is all about.
Goucher
To put it mildly.
Pynchon
There’s a limit to how much I can say but I’ll do my best.
We’re training and equipping special men and women to fight
behind enemy lines.
Goucher
Women?
Pynchon
Oh yes.
Now imagine these special men and women dropped by
moonlight into a land full of German soldiers. What are they
going to do? They can‘t just go berserk and shoot the place
up. They wouldn‘t last ten minutes. We believe their best bet is
to make the biggest damn nuisance of themselves imaginable
and to get the local resistance to do the same.
Goucher
It all sounds frightfully daring but I still don’t see how I can help
you.
Pynchon
Your pig has been brought to our attention.
Goucher
Hiawyn?
Pynchon
Yes. We want to conscript him.
Goucher
Pardon?
Pynchon
He’s the arch mischief-maker. We want him on our side.
Goucher
The war must be going worse than I thought!
Pynchon
I’m quite serious.
Goucher
How exactly do you propose to get Hiawyn onto the
battlefield?
Pynchon
He doesn’t have to leave your imagination, Donald! Parachute
him behind enemy lines in your head. Let him run amok and
report back to us what he gets up to.
Goucher
Why?
13
Pynchon
War has always been a business of the imagination. To win
you must attack the enemy in ways he’s never dreamt of. You
must out-imagine him. If we can glean any new tactics from
Hiawyn it might give us a valuable advantage.
(Goucher pauses for thought.)
Goucher
You want stories?
Pynchon
All you can dream up. The more unlikely the better. As
mischievous as possible.
Goucher
“Hiawyn Beats the Bosch”?
Pynchon
“Hiawyn Hunts the Hun”!
Goucher
“Bacon over Berlin”!
Pynchon
“Pork on Parade”!
Goucher
Alright. For King and Country, then. I’ll do my best. When do
you want me to start?
Pynchon
I’ll show you to your study.
Gwyneth
“Study” to my mind conjures bookshelves, a coal fire and a
good leather armchair. The shed where Goucher was put had
a village hall chair, a card table and a powerful whiff of Jeyes
Fluid. Still. There was a window, with a view of an oil tank.
Goucher set to.
(Goucher sits and thinks. The white bubble of an idea forms above him. In
the bubble cartoons quickly unfold.
1.The silhouetted figure of a pig parachutes into a moonlit land. Hoots of
owls.
The next day a long-bonneted, open-topped Mercedes pulls up outside the
Reich’s Chancellery at the head of a massive army. A tiny general in big
boots and hat steps out of the car.)
General
HALT!
Vait here. I’m going in for orders.
(He strides up into the Chancellery - strains of Wagner as the door opens
and shuts. The army sits and waits. From nowhere, a pig thinly disguised
as a mechanic strolls humming right up to the big Merc. Nobody bats an
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eyelid. He lifts the bonnet and pours a tin marked CRUNCHY into the oil
hole, then walks away humming, calm as a cucumber.
Now the general bursts out brandishing an envelope and leaps in the back
of the car. He tears open the envelope - everyone holds their breath.)
General
Today… ENGLAND!
Come on! Come on! Vat are ve vaiting for?
(Everyone starts their engines and the convoy roars off. The Ride of the
Valkyries. The General stands pointing the way in the back of the Merc and
everyone surges after. His car is a snarling beast. Close up of its snarling
face. But suddenly… fut - fut - poom! The car expires.)
Officers in car
Was ist das? Kaput, nein? Scheisse. Does anyone know
anything about cars? Etc.
(Pan out from the general drumming his fingers in the back of the broken
down Merc to the halted army hooting behind him.)
General
Gott in Himmel…
(Fade out.)
2. The silhouetted figure of a pig parachutes into a moonlit etc.
The next day a German U boat returns to base from the North Atlantic,
leaving several sinking cargo ships in its wake on the horizon. The sub
pulls up at the quay where a pig thinly disguised as a washerwoman waits
for it. The hatch opens and a stubbly sailor lugs out a basket of stinking
laundry.)
Sailor
Vashervoman? Vash this lot. Und mach schnell. Ve must sail
again on the next tide.
(The washerwoman rides away on her little cart with the laundry.
Cut to her washing the clothes, humming “This is the way we wash the
clothes”, scrubbing them, pinning them to dry, ironing them then shaking a
pot of powder over each garment marked SCRITCHY before folding them
back into the basket.
The cart pulls up at the quay.)
Sailor
Danke schön Lady.
Washerwoman
Heil Hitler, dearie.
(The sailor pays up and takes the washing down the hatch. The
washerwoman tucks the cash in her bust and hums off.
15
The sub sails from the quay and dives ‘til just the periscope sticks up, an
evil eyeball on a stalk. It scans the waves until it spots a cargo ship - we
see it in the cross-hairs.)
Sailor
Enemy sighted Herr Kapitan! Dead ahead!
Captain
Splendid! Load torpedo tubes one and two…!
(The periscope-eye narrows malevolently and speeds towards its prey, but
suddenly it halts and widens with surprise.)
Captain
I say, scratch my back vill you, seaman…? Down a bit… left a
bit…
(Sound of much scratching.)
Sailor
Ach! Das ist not funny! Mein undergarments! They become
unbearable!
(The periscope twitches and bubbles pop at the surface full of agonised
laughs and screams. The sub surfaces, the hatch flies open and the entire
crew pile out screaming and scratching at their underpants, throwing
themselves in the sea for relief. Fade out.
3. Pig parachutes silhouette. We pan round a forest of undercarriages and
underbellies of German bombers on the runway, having their hatches refilled with murderous-looking bombs. Inbetween them threads a familiar
humming figure, a pig thinly disguised as a window cleaner. He passes two
chatting airmen.)
Airman 1
So. Vere are ve bombing tonight, Gunther?
Airman 2
Birm-ing-ham, I think Wilhelm.
(The pig leans his ladder against an aircraft and starts to clean the
windscreen. We home in on his bucket - MISTY, it has on the side. A quick
series of views of Hiawyn cleaning every bit of glass on a plane imaginable
- glass machine-gun turrets, instrument covers, goggles etc.
A klaxon sounds and hundreds of crew run to board the planes as one slow
figure carrying a ladder hums off the other way.
Propellors splutter to life. Planes roar into the air. A vast formation fills the
sky from right to left. TO ENGLAND says a cloud in the shape of a waysign.
A lower gunner yawns as he peers down from his turret. We see his view of
dusky fields scrolling past, then over beach, surf and sea. Suddenly the
view begins to mist over. The gunner wipes at the window. No help.)
16
Gunner
Was ist happening? I cannot see nichts…!
(We see the view ahead from the cockpit, of horizon and other planes, mist
over.)
Pilot
Was ist das? Fog? In August?
(Now we see a radar screen fogging over and a desperate hand wiping it to
no avail.)
Navigator
Hilfe! Mein instruments! Ich kann nicht see a bloody thing!
(Cut to the squadron as dots on a map of Europe, just setting out over the
Channel. The orderly formation of the squadron begins to break up and the
dots veer erratically back east, towards Germany.
On the ground we see the German general in his big Merc still drumming
his fingers on the leather upholstery, the tank-jam still beeps behind him.
But suddenly he pricks up his ears and points.)
General
Look! Our brave kamerads of the Luftwaffe returning from
another successful mission!
Soldiers
Yoohoo! Heil Hitler! Cooeee! Etc.
(But on board the plane the windows are white and so are the pilots
goggles.)
Pilot
Das must be England by now, nein?
(A hand fumbles for a switch marked “bomb release” and presses it. We
see bombs whistling down. On the ground, panic spreads.)
General
Help! Mutti! RUN FOR COVER!
Explosions fill Goucher’s bubble back to white.
Goucher sits, momentarily spent, in a spangled twilight.)
Pynchon
Given you any ideas?
Dot
We’ve had a field-day sir!
Pynchon
Fire away.
Dot
(She empties some powder out of a tin on to her hand.)
A fine carborundum powder, highly abrasive. You either mix it
17
with oil and put it in a machine or just chuck it in dry to any
exposed working parts. It’ll stop anything in an hour. It’ll stop a
steam engine, I reckon, sir.
Sollis
Splendid! What else?
Dot
Mucuna seed hairs. Causes unbearable itching to the skin.
Pynchon
Itching powder!
Dot
Yes. Particularly effective applied to the inside of
underclothes.
Pynchon
Imagine! The Third Reich halted by itching balls!
Dot
And this we’ve disguised as suntan cream but if you spread it
on clean glass, frosting will take place in about five minutes.
The glass is permanently etched.
Pynchon
Marvellous. Keep it up.
(Goucher comes forward.)
Goucher
Was that mischievous enough?
Pynchon
Mischief incarnate! Only I want you to turn up the heat a little
now Donald. Could Hiawyn find it in himself to be more…
fiendish?
Goucher
What do you mean?
Pynchon
More… injurious.
Goucher
Hurt people.
Pynchon
The enemy.
Goucher
That makes me a little uncomfortable, Gerald.
Pynchon
But Hiawyn isn’t entertaining children anymore, is he? He’s
defending his country.
(Goucher looks unconvinced.)
Besides, it’s all on paper. Treat it as an experiment. Set
Hiawyn free!
(Pynchon fades. Another white idea balloons over Goucher’s head. Into it
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floats the silhouette of a pig parachuting into a moonlit land. Now a title PARIS IN THE SPRING. We see a stubbly face waking and yawning. The
man throws back the covers to reveal a full German uniform.)
Voiceover
(With a German accent,) Vile occupying a country, make
sure really to get ze most out of your visit.
(The soldier puts on his helmet and steps to the window. Framed by
flowers is a view of the Eiffel Tower with a Swastika flying from the top. The
soldier sighs happily.)
Voiceover
Don’t be shy. Immerse yourself in ze local vay of life. Try to
speak ze language.
(The soldier takes a phrase book out of his pocket - FRENCH PHRASES
FOR GERMAN SOLDIERS. He opens it and tries a phrase haltingly.)
Soldier
“Bon-jour Mon-sieur… Rend-ez vos armes!”
Voiceover
Don’t use just vat you brought from home. Buy ze local
produce.
(The soldier goes into a pharmacie. The shopkeeper is a thinly disguised
pig.)
Soldier
(Haltingly, from his phrase book,) Av-ez vous… un b…
blaireau?
Shopkeeper
A shaving brush? Oui, Monsieur.
Voiceover
Ze quality may surprise you.
(Cut to the soldier lathering his face happily in silhouette behind a frosted
glass door. Suddenly the shaving brush bursts into flames and sets the
soldier’s head on fire. Screams.)
Voiceover
Dip into local culture.
(The soldier is at the counter in a library with his phrase book. The librarian
is a thinly disguised pig.)
Soldier
…par… Gust-av Fl… Flau-bert?
Librarian
Madame Bovary? Oui. Follow me, Monsieur.
(The librarian leads him deep among the shelves and
pulls out the book.)
19
Voilá. Amusez vous.
(The librarian disappears back along the aisles. The soldier opens the
book. There is only one small word printed on the first page. He peers
closer and reads,)
Soldier
“Bang.”
(Explosion.)
Voiceover
Frequent local vatering holes.
(Now the soldier sits at a café table. A pig thinly disguised as a waiter is
taking his order.)
Waiter
…Chateau Lafitte, Chateau Margaux, Chateaubriand ou
Chateauneuf du Pape?
Soldier
Um… Chianti s’il vous plait.
Waiter
(Sighs,) Oui monsieur. Chianti.
(The waiter brings a straw-wrapped bottle of Chianti.)
Santé, Monsieur.
(The soldier pours himself a glass and sips it. He sighs with pleasure. He
becomes aware of a ticking. He lifts up the bottle and listens. BANG. It
explodes.)
Voiceover
Und don’t forget to get a souvenir of your stay.
(We see a souvenir seller in the middle distance, a pig in disguise, sat by
his wares set out on a blanket on the street. The soldier passes then
returns and buys the biggest Eiffel Tower statue. He walks out of shot with
it. BANG.)
Voiceover
And finally, Never refuse an overture off friendship.
(The soldier, somewhat blackened, still clutching the smoking wreckage of
his souvenir, sits on a bench. A pig in a beret sits next to him.)
Hiawyn
Cigarette, Monsieur?
Soldier
Oui, s’il vous plait.
(Close up on the soldier’s face as he puts the cigarette in his mouth. A
trotter lights it for him.)
20
Hiawyn
Au revoir Monsieur.
Soldier
Au revoir.
(Trottersteps walk away. BANG. Smoke clears. The soldier’s face looks
decidedly grim. Suddenly he jumps up and runs off screaming. Bang. He
shoots himself out of shot.
Hiawyn rides past in a black top hat on a black, horse-drawn hearse,
humming to himself.
“FIN”.
Lights up on Dot and Pynchon. Dot is finishing up.)
Dot
…The Chianti bottle was easy - we put plastic explosive in the
basket round the base and you can still have wine in the neck.
The souvenir - this is so clever! - the lads have found a way of
actually casting statues in solid high explosive! It can be
painted to look like wood, metal, sandstone. Anything.
Pynchon
Extraordinary!
Dot
So which ones do you think we should develop for use in the
field, Sir?
Pynchon
(After a brief pause,) All of them I think. Yes. All of them.
Dot
Right you are sir. (She makes to leave but asks casually,)
The chap who makes up the stories, the Reverend… Is he
mad?
Pynchon
Completely. But only when I ask him to be.
(Dot and Pynchon go off separately.)
•
(Goucher stands from his labours and stretches to relieve the effects of the
wooden chair. He frowns and shakes his head forward in a peculiar
fashion. His glasses fall to the floor. He retrieves them and inspects the
hinge of one arm.
Just then Dot walks past his window with a pig snout on her face
improvised from a paper cup and some elastic. She disappears out of sight.
Goucher quickly puts on his glasses to check his eyes aren’t mistaken.
Goucher follows off where Dot went.
Dot enters and potters in her workshop, still wearing the snout, fetching a
drill bit and a drill. She fits the bit and settles to drill a small hole in a
21
wooden shaving brush. )
Dot
(Singing to herself like one of the Andrews Sisters,) This
little piggy went to market, this little pig stayed at home…
(Goucher comes in and looks round shyly.)
Goucher
Hello?
Dot
Christ…! Sorry Reverend. Shit… (She snatches off the
snout.) Sorry. How can I help you?
Goucher
I saw you passing. I thought I might be missing some fun.
Even if it was at my expense.
Dot
No! We’re all great fans. Just, poring over the stories day in
day out, it’s sending us all a bit Hiawyn mad.
Goucher
Think of me.
Dot
You must be raving!
Goucher
Bonkers!
Dot
I’m Dot.
Goucher
Donald.
Dot
(Shaking his hand warmly,) Don’t worry. My hands are quite
clean now. Although the smell did cling for about a week.
Goucher
You’d drawn the short straw, I take it?
Dot
It was my first day. They get everyone to do it apparently.
Goucher
What are you working on now?
Dot
I’m not supposed to tell, but I think there’s probably no harm
telling you. Seeing as it’s your brainchild. It’s the shaving
brush from the Paris in the Spring story.
Goucher
Good Lord.
Dot
What’s the matter?
Goucher
I just didn’t think the ideas would be used so… literally.
22
Dot
How else?
Goucher
Colonel Pynchon rather gave the impression the inspiration
was to be more abstract.
Dot
We’re not very good at “abstract” here I‘m afraid.
Goucher
Indeed. So how does it work, the shaving brush?
Dot
We fill the handle with metallic sodium. It bursts into flames
when it comes into contact with water. We drill a tiny hole
among the bristles and the first time someone uses the brush,
Bob’s your uncle.
I’ll show you if you like.
Goucher
That won’t be necessary…
Dot
We must. It’s astonishing!
Goucher
Really no, please…
Dot
It’s alright. We’re encouraged to test things now and again.
Stand behind me please.
(She gets a fragment of sodium in a crucible and puts on
gauntlets and goggles. Then, holding a test tube at the
end of a six foot metal rod, she tips a drop of water on the
sodium, which bursts violently into flames for a few
seconds.)
Dot
Impressive, eh?!
Goucher
Diabolical.
Dot
Thank you!
Goucher
Doesn’t it disturb you to imagine the effect?
Dot
Not to a German soldier, no.
Goucher
How can you be sure it won’t fall into the wrong hands?
Dot
Because the agents in the field are frightfully clever at putting
things in the right hands.
Goucher
Say the German soldier never used the brush but took it home
23
and one day his son found it in a cupboard and used it.
Dot
Then that would be unfortunate. But do you think they have
any such qualms on our behalf? My nephew was killed in
Portsmouth by a bomb that was meant for the docks but I’m
sure the Luftwaffe aren’t losing any sleep about it.
Goucher
I’m sorry about your nephew.
(Awkward pause.)
Dot
Your glasses look rather loose.
Goucher
Yes. It’s been driving me mad but I haven’t got a screwdriver
small enough to tighten them.
(She takes the glasses from his face gently.)
Dot
Goodness. What long eyelashes you have.
(She rummages for a small screwdriver and starts to
fiddle with the glasses.)
How is it that a man of the cloth has such a naughty pig inside
him?
Goucher
I think everyone has a Hiawyn locked up somewhere inside,
don’t they?
Dot
Yours doesn’t seem very locked up.
Goucher
He is when I‘ve finished with him for the day, I can assure you.
I keep the key under my pillow. And I never lend it to anyone.
Dot
But haven’t you lent it to Colonel Pynchon?
(Goucher is wrong-footed.)
There.
(She puts his glasses back on for him.)
Goucher
What lovely fingernails you keep.
Dot
Thank you. You’ve got to keep a bit of you lovely, haven’t you.
(She smiles at him.)
Goucher
I must get back to my labours.
Dot
And me. Toodle pip.
24
Goucher
We shall meet again, no doubt.
Dot
No doubt.
(Dot sings without looking at him,)
“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when…”
•
Gwyneth
Goucher had slept well thus far at the Hough, but little did he
know as he settled to bed that night, something ugly had
started to stir in the darkness of his unconscious mind.
(Goucher is getting into bed in his pyjamas. He takes off his glasses and
looks at the hinge with a smile, then turns out his light and settles to sleep.
Very soon he begins to snore. Faintly his snores appear on the wall above
him as streams of zeds.
A dream bubble forms on the wall above him. Up into it floats a sleeping
Goucher, a facsimile of the one before us, sharing his snores.
The view of him is panning out. Gradually it is revealed that the dream
Goucher is sleeping on a large cage. Inside stands a monstrous pig,
looking up at Goucher with malevolent frustration.
Someone is unlocking the door. It’s Pynchon. He leaves. The door swings
open.
The pig saunters out and climbs on the cage. He looks at the sleeping
Goucher and a grin spreads on his face. He throws back the covers and
thrusts himself violently into Goucher through his navel until he fills his
skin which is hideously stretched to accommodate him.
The pig goes to the outside of a little shop. JOKES, it says on the window.
Inside, among the jokes and toys, he can see Dot working at a bench
making new jokes.
A bell tinkles as the pig goes in.)
Dot
Good day. How can I help you sir?
(The pig takes her hand in his and removes Goucher’s
glasses - we see Dot’s view of his face, stretched and
shiny, Goucher filled with Hiawyn.)
Goodness, what long eyelashes you have…
(The pig raises her hand to his lips slowly… and takes a bite out of it like an
apple. Dot looks at the bleeding half moon out of her hand then at the pig’s
munching face. She shakes her head. He nods.
Cut to the pig in Goucher’s skin pulling on Dot’s shopkeeper clothes, hair
and glasses, belching as if after a large meal.
He sweeps aside the quaint display of old-fashioned practical jokes and
sets out some familiar objects - a shaving brush, a book, a Chianti bottle, a
model of the Eiffel Tower etc.
25
The bell tinkles and in comes a boy of seven or so. He has large, round
eyes and a serious face. He wears lederhosen and long socks with tabs.)
Hiawyn
Wilkommen, mein liebling!
Boy
Guten Tag.
(The boy looks round the shop but touches nothing, just soaking it all up
with his eyes. Hiawyn follows him round. From behind we see his tail
poking through Dot’s dress, twitching with excitement. Lastly the boy
comes to the shaving brush. He picks it up, peers at it and shakes it. A
bowl of water appears on the counter in front of him.)
Hiawyn
That will make a good surprise for your pappi. Try it.
(The boy looks at the pig solemnly.)
Go on!
(He dips the brush in the water and swirls it round.
Nothing happens.)
Perhaps some shaving soap, my little man.
(Hiawyn puts out a bowl of shaving soap. The boy lathers
the brush then looks at the pig.)
Try it!
(The boy lathers his face with it gingerly.)
Don’t be shy! Enjoy it!
(The boy begins to laugh. Hiawyn laughs, his nose beginning to bleed with
excitement. Suddenly a flare of light is reflected on Hiawyn’s face.
The real Goucher screams and the dream evaporates. His nose is bleeding
and he is crying. But after several moments in a daze, he puts on his
glasses, staunches his nose with his handkerchief and begins scribbling
notes in an exercise book. A gentle knock comes at the door. )
Dot
Donald?
Goucher
Yes.
Dot
I heard you from downstairs. Are you alright?
Goucher
Just a bad dream.
Dot
Can I come in?
Goucher
Yes.
(Dot peers round in her dressing gown.)
26
Dot
Your nose!
Goucher
It’s nothing, honestly. I have nosebleeds quite often in the
night.
(She pours water from his night flask onto his handkerchief and cleans his
face with it.)
Dot
What was the dream about?
Goucher
I couldn’t begin to tell you.
(He looks shellshocked. She kneels and looks him in the face, smiling.)
Dot
It’s alright. It’s over. It’s gone.
(Instinctively, she kisses him. They both look surprised. Suddenly they kiss
fiercely, tumbling beyond control, until Goucher involuntarily snorts like a
pig. He pushes them apart.)
Goucher
No!
(They sit dazed.)
Oh Lord.
Dot
Are you praying? It’s a bit late for that.
Goucher
I’m sorry.
Dot
Don’t apologise. It was delightful.
Goucher
I’m married.
Dot
So am I. I haven’t seen him for a year.
Goucher
What on earth’s gotten into me…?
Dot
Whatever it was, it’s gone now. Yes?
(She takes his hand and smiles.)
Goodnight.
Goucher
Goodnight.
(She starts to leave but before she reaches the door he
has returned to his notes. He becomes aware she’s
watching him.)
I must write down the dream before it goes. Pynchon might be
able to use it somehow.
27
Dot
Donald, please get that key back from him soon. Before it’s
too late.
(She goes.)
•
(The next day Pynchon enters his office opening a manila packet. Inside is
a brown book. Pynchon perches on the edge of his desk and flicks through
it. He stops at a page and peers at an illustration. He stands and shapes his
right arm to match the picture, heel of his hand up, fingers up and curved
like a muscular spider. Putting the book on the desk but still peering at it,
he holds his left hand at chin height, palm downwards, and practises
jabbing at it with the heel of his right hand. Goucher knocks and enters
with a sheaf of papers but Pynchon doesn’t notice him ’til he clears his
throat.)
Pynchon
Sorry old man! Just practising my “All-in Fighting”!
(He shows Goucher the book.)
Friend of mine’s written a manual for us. He worked with the
Shanghai Police before the war. This “chin jab” can break a
man’s neck if you do it smartly enough, he says.
Goucher
It looks grisly.
Pynchon
It has to be. “Kill or get killed” is the motto. Mind you, it must
be hard to pick it up from a book. Like learning to dance from
one of those damned footwork diagrams.
Let’s try this little number…
Goucher
I only came to…
(Pynchon puts Goucher’s papers down and takes the book.)
Pynchon
“You are seized by the throat as in figure 23.”
Go on man, like this! (He shows him the picture.)
Goucher
Please Gerald…
(Pynchon puts Goucher’s hands on his throat and tries to read the manual
and act out the instructions at the same time.)
Pynchon
“Number 1. Seize your opponent’s right elbow with your left
hand from underneath, your thumb to the right.
Number 2. Reach over his arms and seize his right wrist with
28
your right hand as in Figure 24.
Number 3. Apply pressure on his left arm with your right and
with a circular upward motion of your left hand…”
(They get in a foolish tangle. Goucher breaks free and
smoothes his hair.)
Just a bit of fun, old man!
What was it you wanted then?
Goucher
I have some more material for you.
Pynchon
You must’ve been up early.
Goucher
I did it last night.
Pynchon
It looks like it judging by the under-eye baggage.
Goucher
I wanted to ask if I might go off the base for the day.
Pynchon
Of course Donald. Change of scene will freshen you up.
Goucher
Thank you.
(He turns to leave, but returns.)
When might I stop?
Pynchon
Stop what?
Goucher
Writing these stories. And go home.
Pynchon
When the war is won, I suppose.
(Goucher looks desperately weary.)
It’s a dirty business Donald, I know. Even for those of us far
from active service. Putting other people in harm’s way is the
most stressful thing, I find. But you have to perfect the art of
not imagining their suffering.
Goucher
If I’m to make my train...
Pynchon
Yes. You get off Donald.
•
Gwyneth
Goucher wanted to see his wife but he'd never have made it
there and back in the day. Besides. He didn't feel he deserved
to see her just presently. So he went to visit his old friend,
Canon Gibbons, instead. Four hours and seven changes it
took to reach him on the outskirts of Coventry.
29
(A panoramic black and white photo of a devastated Coventry after the Blitz
covers the stage and pans closer until we are lost in the detail. Gibbons
enters polishing a shoe. Goucher carries the other for him. Gibbons
belches and frowns.)
Gibbons
Pardon me. Well, Donald, I appreciate your qualms dear boy
but I see no particular reason to fret… Oh dear… (Gibbons is
struggling with his shoes.)
Goucher
Sebastian, let me do that.
Gibbons
Thank you. Terrible arthritis in the knuckles you see.
Goucher
Couldn’t your housekeeper clean your shoes?
Gibbons
I don’t like to ask. She’s only here to cook lunch nowadays.
Goucher
It was certainly… filling.
Gibbons
(Whispering loudly,) Not wishing to seem ungrateful but her
dumplings give me the worst constipation imaginable. Stools
like cannonballs for days! Poor lady. She has to look after her
grandchildren nowadays. Her daughter was killed in the raid
on the city…
Where were we? Oh yes. It sounds as if you are simply doing
your duty to King and Country, Donald, albeit in rather a
bizarre manner.
Goucher
And to God?
Gibbons
And to God, if this is a just war.
Goucher
But the things I’m asked to imagine, they’re… underhand and
vicious…
Gibbons
(Seeming sad and tired,) I suppose the gloves are off now,
aren‘t they. The hell that was visited on the city that night
Donald... And to think it was all carefully planned. I never
imagined the human mind would be turned to such a task.
(Goucher has finished helping Gibbons on with his shoes
and kneels frowning.)
I haven’t helped you, have I?
(Goucher smiles. Gibbons puts his hand fondly on his
shoulder.)
I wish we had more time, but I really must get round my parish
30
visits before dark. The last time I walked home in the blackout
I nearly emasculated myself on a parked bicycle!
(Pause.)
It breaks my heart to see you burdened with this bloody mess,
but I know you’ll do the right thing. You of all people, Donald,
you of all people.
(They exit.)
•
(Goucher enters in a half-light, wearily on his way.)
Gwyneth
It was nearly midnight when Goucher got back to the Hough.
He couldn’t face sleep and the terrors it might bring so he
headed for his study instead.
(There’s a faint flicker of light. Goucher stops.)
He waited for thunder but none came.
(More flashes of light.)
The light was coming from somewhere on the base.
(Goucher goes off searching.)
•
(Lights up on Pynchon in Dot’s lab. He stands looking down behind a
workbench. There are frequent flashes as if from a camera.)
Gwyneth
The light was coming from the lab. A photographer was
snapping at something on the floor. There was a smell of burnt
hair.
Pynchon
You should go to bed Donald.
Goucher
What’s happened?
Pynchon
There’s been an accident. I’ll tell you in the morning…
(Goucher pushes past and stares down behind the bench.)
Goucher
Dot?
Pynchon
Yes. Some tea was spilt and some sodium was ignited. She
didn’t survive long thankfully.
Gwyneth
The injuries were mostly to the hands and the face. The lips
were curled back to reveal the teeth, shockingly white against
31
the blackened skin.
(With each flash, abstracted photographic images appear fleetingly of
charred human remains.)
Goucher
Why is she being subjected to this?
Pynchon
Her injuries must be documented.
Goucher
Why?
Pynchon
For research purposes.
Goucher
What research?
Pynchon
Go to bed, Donald.
Goucher
Tell me.
Pynchon
We don‘t know much about the effects of sodium burns.
Goucher
Weapons research!
Pynchon
Not a drop of blood must be wasted, Donald. If it helps our
fight one bit…
Goucher
But surely all this must stop now. Can’t you see? It’s folly!
Pynchon
We shall talk in the morning.
Goucher
She must be covered up. COVER HER UP!
(Goucher tries to reach Dot’s body. Pynchon grabs him and pushes him to
the floor.)
Pynchon
Don’t be a bloody fool. Go to bed, for God’s sake.
(Goucher goes off.)
•
(Goucher enters his study without turning on the light. He leans against the
wall and looks at the ceiling. He appears on the verge of mental collapse.
The white bubble of an involuntary idea forms around him. Superimposed
on his body with light, two ears grow out of his head and a snout forms on
his face. Trotters cover his hands and pink pig skin covers his body. He
32
steps out of the picture and looks with horror at the residual pig features
before rushing off, leaving the traces fading on the wall.)
•
(Goucher creeps into the lab. Pynchon is on the telephone in an adjacent
room. Goucher goes and looks at Dot‘s body.)
Gwyneth
Many of Dot’s fingers were scorched to the bone, but some of
the fingernails remained quite untouched by the flames, still
lovely.
(Goucher covers her gently with his jacket. Now he moves like a stealthy
whirlwind.)
He wanted to remove every trace that had sprung from his
head - every shred of paper bearing Hiawyn’s name, every
device culled from his deeds.
(Once Goucher has gathered all he can find in a haversack he dashes off.
Not a moment later, Pynchon enters the room and immediately notices
Goucher’s jacket covering Dot. He picks up the telephone.)
Pynchon
Angus? Sorry to wake you… Listen, something rather
unfortunate has come up here. But I wonder if it mightn’t be
the perfect training opportunity for our students. How soon can
you have them over here?
Gwyneth
By five the next morning ten “students” were gathered in front
of him. They were secret agents in training.
Pynchon
(As if addressing them,) His mental state is precarious. He
has stolen lethal, secret weaponry. His intentions are unclear.
I’m afraid he must be stopped at all costs, Ladies and
Gentlemen. Good luck.
Gwyneth
Gerald said that there was a distasteful frisson among them,
as if they were off on a hunt. But this pig would prove damn
hard to stick.
He wasn’t hard to find at least.
The first thing he did was burn the things he’d taken.
(Explosion. Goucher appears and looks back at a
flickering inferno.)
He climbed a hill to watch. You could see the display across
half the county.
(Goucher sits to watch. Gwyneth sits with him. We see a
33
photo of Dot's face.)
His mind was full of her.
He knew it was a betrayal but he couldn't help it. Her last kiss
was on his lips and that was surely the last real trace of her.
(The image of her slowly fades.)
It was dawn when they finally caught up with him.
(Sound of a bullet hitting the ground beside Goucher.)
He was off like a shot.
(Goucher runs off.)
They chased him down to the east bank of the River Mimram
and lost him in the reed beds. Then they spotted him climbing
out on the far bank a hundred yards downstream. He’d
crossed underwater breathing through a reed straw.
(We see a slide show through all this of black and white
official photos marked with white lines to show Goucher’s
movements. We see the river and his crossing marked
and a selection of reed straws arranged next to a ruler for
scale.)
Then two agents on a motorcycle ran him to ground in an
oatfield.
(Aerial view of oatfield outlined in white.)
The area was surrounded and dogs were sent in. They were
found in the field later, their skulls crushed with a flint.
(Slide of four dead dogs.)
Six agents entered the field but had to retire when it went up in
flames.
(Slide of blackened field.)
Goucher had started the blaze by magnifying the sun’s rays
with his spectacles.
(Slide of his spectacles.)
Goucher escaped in the confusion but was spotted stealing a
bicycle from a nearby farm.
(Slide of bicycle.)
An agent requisitioned another bicycle and pursued him for
half a mile until, rounding a bend, he was struck by Goucher’s
bicycle falling from a tree.
(Slide of the tree and white line showing fall of bicycle.)
Then they lost him until a farmer reported a man fitting
Goucher’s description creeping into a shed on his property.
There was only one door.
(Slide of pig shed door.)
The shed was full of a hundred pigs, off to slaughter the next
day.
(We see an abstract, roiling mass of pig backs in a low,
dark shed projected before us and hear a gentle hubbub.)
In the half-light it was impossible to spot a crouching man
34
among the mass of pig flesh. Was that Goucher there? Or
there?
(We hear the crack of a pistol shot. The sea of pigs begin
to seethe and squeal deafeningly. There are more shots
and the mayhem gets worse. Goucher creeps forward,
stripped to the waist, obscured among the chaos. But
suddenly he dashes forward and jabs up with the heel of
his palm as if under the agent’s chin. Goucher is caught
in a shaft of light. The noise recedes but not entirely.
Goucher looks in horror at what he’s done.)
He’d broken the agent’s neck and killed him in an instant.
(Goucher flees off. The pigs fade and a slide of a barn
flicks up.)
He took refuge in a barn. The agents wanted to burn the place
to the ground but Gerald stopped them.
(Pynchon enters and addresses the students, looking at the barn.)
Pynchon
Send a car for his wife. She’ll fetch him out.
Gwyneth
I’ve often wondered what the poor woman must have felt when
a military car turned up on her doorstep that morning. But my
nephew was right. Goucher came out to her like a lamb.
(Goucher stumbles into Viv’s arms. Then, reluctantly she lets him go off
alone into the custody of the military police. She watches him taken away
then comes up to Pynchon.)
Vivian
Are you responsible?
Pynchon
I am in charge.
Vivian
In three weeks you’ve reduced my husband to ruins. What
purpose could this possibly have served?
Pynchon
I feel for you, Mrs Goucher. It must seem impossible at this
moment to reconcile the suffering of a loved one with any
greater sense of purpose...
Vivian
But he’s not been anywhere near the war, he’s been at a
country hotel in Hertfordshire!
Pynchon
I can assure you, he’s been in the thick of it.
Vivian
How?
35
Pynchon
I’m not at liberty to reveal.
Vivian
I think you’re to blame. You’ve accidentally devastated a man
on your own side and you don’t want to admit it.
Pynchon
He’s not devastated Mrs Goucher. Far from it, in military
terms.
Vivian
He looked wretched to me…
Pynchon
I‘m sorry. I don’t relish all this any more than you do Mrs
Goucher. But the task of defending the nation fell to us and we
must get on with it or be damned.
(Pause.)
Vivian
I must take him home.
Pynchon
I’m afraid not. He killed a man today.
Vivian
No…!
Pynchon
A brave young man of twenty two...
Vivian
He couldn't hurt a mouse.
Pynchon
(Pause.) I can arrange for you to see the body...
Vivian
What must you have done to him?
(Pause.)
Pynchon
Your husband may be pardoned… if he continues to serve his
country until the end of the war.
Vivian
It's all just so many counters on a board to you isn't it, Mr
Pynchon? Move one here, force one there...
Pynchon
I'm truly sorry things have turned out the way they have, Mrs
Goucher... (She leaves.)
I wish it might've been otherwise.
•
Gwyneth
You know that feeling, when someone finds your foot in their
36
path and falls headlong? You tell yourself it’s an accident but
in your heart you feel them crashing down, over and again…
Goucher; his wife; that young agent; my nephew, because he
never slept soundly from that day on… Not the girl, the
scientist, I can't take the blame for her. But all the others…
Stupid, stupid, silly old bitch. If only I'd kept my mouth shut
over the stilton. Of course, who's to say they wouldn't have
ended up along some other avenue of misfortune. Lord knows,
there were plenty to choose from with a war in full swing. But it
was I who sent them sprawling down that particular road to
suffering and for that, I shall carry the burden to the grave.
(We hear Yves Montand singing Autumn Leaves circa 1946, in the twilight.)
Song
The falling leaves drift by my window,
The autumn leaves of red and gold.
I see your lips, the summer kisses,
The sunburnt hands I used to hold.
Since you went away the days grow long,
And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song
But I miss you most of all my darling,
When autumn leaves start to fall.
C’est une chanson qui nous ressemble
Toi tu m’aimais et je t’aimais.
Nous vivions tous les deux ensemble
Toi qui m’aimais, moi qui t’aimais.
Mais la vie separe ceux qui s’aiment
Tous doucement sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable
Les pas des amants desunis.
(We see a series of black and white photos. The sequence includes:
1. A solemn portrait of Goucher in uniform. His face retains a flickering
trace of pig features, skeletal shadows.
2. An agent in training, firing a pistol at a man-shaped target.
3. An agent training in hand to hand combat.
4. A photograph of a commando knife.
5. Agents parachute training.
6. A group of agents parachuting out of a plane.
7. Agents shaking hands with a group of French partisans.
8. French civilians watch a German convoy passing along a French street.
9. Page from a secret equipment catalogue showing an explosive charge
to be fitted to a railway line.
10. A derailed steam locomotive.
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11. Catalogue page showing an exploding Chianti bottle.
12. Picture of dead German soldiers flung around a devastated café terrace.
13. Catalogue page of an exploding book.
14. Picture of dead German officer in a ruined study.
15. Catalogue page of an exploding bicycle pump.
16. Picture of a dead German soldier by a mangled bicycle.
17. Catalogue page of a booby trap screwed into a roadside tree.
18. Picture of assassinated German officers in the back of a limousine.
19. Picture of hanged French civilians, including old women and teenage
boys.
20. Picture of the liberation of Paris near the end of the war.)
•
(Vivian sits at her kitchen table with her coat over her shoulders. She has a
cup of tea and a paper open at the crossword in front of her but she stares
into space. We hear a key in the door. Vivian stands and her chair falls
over. Goucher enters in a demob suit and puts down a kitbag. Vivian
rushes to him and holds him tight but he is unable to hug her back. She
lets him go, wounded but still wanting everything to be good.)
Vivian
Are you home now?
Goucher
Yes.
Vivian
I mean… have they finished with you?
Goucher
Yes.
Vivian
Thank God! If only I’d known to expect you. There’s not much
food in. (She rushes about tidying, lighting the fire, etc.)
I’m sorry it’s so cold but I try not to light the fire ‘til it gets dark
to save the coal. There’s tea in the pot. Sit down and pour
yourself a cup.
Goucher
Maybe in a moment.
(He stays standing, looking round.)
Vivian
So where have you come from today?
Goucher
I’d rather not talk about all that.
Vivian
No. No.
We’re just starting the Christmas arrangements in the church!
I’ll take you over in a bit. Father Howells from St Stephens has
been doing a service every other Sunday while you’ve been
38
away. And doing funerals for us. There’s a huge pile of
weddings for you to get through though!
Goucher
I shall have to give up the parish. I’ve lost my faith, Vivian.
Vivian
I’m sorry.
Goucher
We’ll manage.
Vivian
No. I meant sorry that you’ve lost your faith.
Goucher
Life goes on. After a fashion.
Vivian
(Pause.) Your last book came out! And it’s been flying off the
shelves, the most successful yet!
(She rummages a copy from somewhere to show him.)
I hope you don’t mind, the publisher needed a few decisions
so she could go ahead. I told her what I thought you would
have wanted…
(Goucher tears up the book methodically. Vivian bursts
into tears and sits at the table. Goucher approaches her,
startled, and gently touches her hair, which makes her
jump. He quickly takes away his hand.)
Why did you never write back?
Goucher
I’m sorry.
Vivian
I had to write to Colonel Pynchon to check you were still alive.
He wrote to me more than you did.
Goucher
Pynchon?
Vivian
Yes. Quite kindly in the end, to his credit. I suppose he
must’ve felt bad. Although he could never admit it.
Goucher
I never want to hear his name again as long as I live.
Vivian
Alright.
(They lapse into an awkward silence.)
Goucher
(Looking round,) Hell’s teeth Vivian. You’ve let the place get
in an awful muddle.
Vivian
I don’t know, I’ve struggled to find the gumption these last few
months.
39
Goucher
Why have you kept all these old papers?
Vivian
The crosswords. I didn’t have the heart to throw them out
unfinished.
Goucher
We must get rid of them.
Vivian
Yes. I’ll put them out today.
Goucher
Not before we’ve filled them in.
Vivian
You want to fill them in?
Goucher
We must. All of them.
Vivian
Now?
Goucher
No time like the present.
(He fetches a batch and puts them on the table between
them.)
Fire away.
Vivian
(Uncertainly at first,) “It is a very near thing for most of us.”
Four letters, starting with a V, ending with a T.
Goucher
Vest.
Vivian
Oh yes. (She writes it in.)
Goucher
Keep them coming.
Vivian
“A hit to embarrass.” Five letters, second letter B.
Goucher
(Thinks,) Abash.
Vivian
Yes! Alright… “Mnemonic flower.” Three words, 6,2,3.
Something, something, G, something T…
Goucher
Forget-me-not!
Vivian
Forget-me-not.
Goucher
Forget-me-not.
Vivian
Yes.
40
(They look at each other. Music. They continue under the
music.)
“What’s in this stands out.” Six letters, ends in F.
Goucher
Relief. Etc.
(A white bubble forms above Goucher. Vivian and Goucher appear in it, sat
at the table exactly as they are in real life. Our view closes in on Goucher
gradually and we start to see him with X-ray vision. We see his bones, his
jaw moving as he speaks, his arm lifting his tea to his lips. Our view
progresses to the base of his spine, which is revealed to extend into a curly
pig tail of diminishing vertebrae. We arrive at the end of this tail, the last
little bone, and before our eyes it begins slowly to dissolve from the tip.)
END
41