Barker - Barker: Plays Three

Enter, scruffily dressed and holding a baby and a suitcase, MRS BILEDEW. The baby is crying. She picks her way over the bricks, looks around, bends down and extracts from the rubbish a framed wedding photograph. She blows the dust off it, stands it up against some masonry. MRS BILEDEW: Shut up, miserable little bleeder! (She looks at the child.) Horrible yellow muck caked round your eyes (Pause.) Makes you feel sick. (She puts the baby down on the ground.) Well, here we are. Unpack.

Spread out your little treasures. Vera Biledew has come home. (The baby cries.) With a little nuisance picked up on the way. (Pause.) Well, was I supposed to go without for five whole years? Was he going without? Like hell he was. Got bastards all the way across the continent. (She kneels down and begins unpacking the suitcase, spreading out little items along the ground, a hand mirror, lighter, clock, hairbrush.) To start off with hell want to bash my face in. (She kneels down and begins unpacking the suitcase, spreading out little items along the ground, a hand mirror, lighter, clock, hairbrush.) To start off with hell want to bash my face in.

I expect Ill lose a few teeth, maybe get my arm broken. Then hell just get used to it. Or piss off altogether, I dont know. If he stays Ill have to have half a dozen kids of his, just to make up for it. And when hes lying on top of me Ill have to say, Oh, no, youre killing me! For a few months, anyway. He always wanted to think I was dying.

Pleased him. (The child cries again.) All right, were home! (She carries on unpacking. Enter left, in battered army uniform, VICTOR BILEDEW. He keeps his hands in his pockets, kicks the floor resentfully. Then he watches her coldly for a few seconds.) BILEDEW: I should kick your head in. (Pause.) BILEDEW: You never wrote. (Pause.) BILEDEW: You never wrote.

MRS BILEDEW: Nothing to say BILEDEW: Five years behind barbed wire! (Pause.) MRS BILEDEW: You know what Im like with lettersI started onethen I left itI meant to pick it up againits here somewhere (She starts to look.) BILEDEW: Dont bother. MRS BILEDEW: No (She smiles.) Well, Im here now (Pause. BILEDEW looks at the baby.) BILEDEW: Whose is that? (Pause.) MRS BILEDEW: Ours. (Pause.) BILEDEW: Ours? MRS BILEDEW: (Aside.) I could lie to him. I could say I found it in the ruins of a house, after a raid, clinging to its dead mothers tits (Pause. She turns back to him.) Whose do you think? BILEDEW: Jesus (Pause.) MRS BILEDEW: Well get a prefab, I expect.

On the edge of the common. The house was damp, if you remember. Im not sorry it got blitzed. Apart from your mum, that was sad (Pause.) BILEDEW: Oh, Christ MRS BILEDEW: (Looks up at him.) Victor (Pause.) Come on, Victorswallow your pride (He sways slightly, eyes closed.She watches him, then goes back to her work, emptying the suitcase.) Munitions work was horrible. But I saved a few quid. (BILEDEW walks over to where the child is lying, gazes down at it. (BILEDEW walks over to where the child is lying, gazes down at it.

Slowly, deliberately, he bends down and picks up a brick.) My skin went funny, and I was nearly in an accident. They reckoned twenty girls died in that blast. And hundreds without arms and legs. (BILEDEW is motionless, holding the brick, gazing at the child.) The boss went to the funeral. He was crying, I was surprised to see. But we got the day off.

That was nice. (Suddenly BILEDEW throws the brick aside. She turns to him. He is weeping bitterly, silently. Pause.) You better go down for the ration books. (He goes out. (He goes out.

Pause.) MRS BILEDEW: Victor never did hit me. But he never spoke to Noel. BILEDEW: Why Noel? MRS BILEDEW: In Which We Serve. BILEDEW: What? MRS BILEDEW: In Which We Serve. BILEDEW: Ive been behind barbed wire for five years. MRS BILEDEW: Nol Coward.

A week before he popped out I was taken to the flicks. And there was Nol. It just seemed obvious. (Pause. BILEDEW nods. She looks at him.) Some feller took me to the flicks.

BILEDEW: You said. (Pause.) MRS BILEDEW: A bloke, Victor. (Long pause. BILEDEW doesnt react.) Be jealous, Victor! Knock me round the head. (Pause.) For your own good (Pause.) BILEDEW: On Tuesdays we played football in the yard. I was goalie.

English and Poles versus Americans. The ball was made of rags tied up with string. Somebody kicked it very wide. It rolled, and stopped half across the white line where the guard patrolled. No prisoner was allowed across the line. It was a rule.

But they all shouted at me, go on Victor, dont hang about. So I went up to the line and stood there and waited, just in case. But they all kept on at me, just pick it up! So I leant over and picked it up. (