The Violator by Bob Bishop

Price $7.99 Add to cart

This Play is the copyright of the Author and may not be performed, copied or sold without the Author's prior consent

ACT ONE

The sitting room of a modest modern house in suburbia. Centre is a
large settee with a table behind, which has a phone and a bowl of
fruit on it. A small sewing machine is plugged in beside the table.
There is a stool behind the table and an upright chair, R, against the
back wall, beside the window. A man's jacket is over the back of
this chair. An armchair is L of the settee. A fireplace on this wall
has a poker resting on the hearth. A small table close to the door, L,
which leads to the rest of the house, has a work basket on it. In the
back wall is a wide window, currently curtained, as it is early
evening. As the curtain rises we see a policeman acting suspiciously.
He is searching for something, picking up odds and ends, peering
behind the curtains, going through the pockets of the jacket on the
back of the chair. He transfers several items from the pockets of the
jacket to his uniform pockets. He counts the banknotes in a leather
wallet, and seems disappointed at how few there are. He pockets the
wallet. The phone rings. He looks towards the door, briefly, then
answers it, speaking softly. The policeman is RON MATTHEWS, a tall,
rather serious man in his mid-30's.

RON: Hello?.......I know; it's switched off.No, I can't,
not now.

JILL MATTHEWS enters. She is an attractive woman, about Ron's age,
but not looking her best at the moment. She is windswept, and is
taking off her outdoor coat as she enters. She has a scarf over her
hair, which she also removes.

I'm sorry, I'm afraid you must have the wrong numberThat's
all right.

RON puts the phone down.

JILL: Another one?
RON: Um.
JILL: One of those long silences?
RON: No just a wrong number. Did you catch the shops?
JILL: Yes.
RON: Did you remember my throat sweets?
JILL: Yes, I did.

JILL rummages in her bag and extracts a couple of tubes of throat
sweets. RON pockets them.

Don't stuff them in there they'll only melt and make your
pockets sticky.
RON: No they won't. I'll have finished them by breakfast.
JILL: Aren't you going to be late?
RON: No.
JILL: I wish you wouldn't leave your best jacket about like that.
It'll look like an old sack, soon.

JILL picks up the jacket from the back of the chair and shakes it.
She arranges it more carefully, making sure the shoulders are
supported.

JILL: It needs to go in your wardrobe.
RON: I'm sure it does.

Jill goes out into the hallway, where she hangs up her coat and
scarf.

JILL: (Off) You owe me three pounds.
RON: For a couple of tubes of sweets?
JILL: Yes.

JILL re-enters.

JILL: Hand it over. I have just five pounds to my name until
Friday.

RON gives her a five pound note from the wallet.

RON: I don't know what you spend it on.
JILL: You should try keeping the household budget for a change.
RON: What's that?
JILL: What's what?
RON: In that bag?
JILL: Just shoes.
RON: Shoes?
JILL: (Taking them out) I found them in Bentley's. They were
reduced to just £14.99 from £35. What do you think?
RON: Are they leather?
JILL: I don't know. Probably not. Decent shoes cost the earth.
Would you rather I spent £75 on a pair?
RON: I'd rather you didn't buy any at all you've got a
cupboard full upstairs.
JILL: I knew it! I just knew the moment you saw the shoes you'd
make a fuss.
RON: I'm not making a fuss. I just don't see why you need yet
another pair of shoes. We had the boiler service bill today. That's
another £78 to come from somewhere.
JILL: (Opening her purse) There. Have your five pounds back. Put
that towards the bill.
RON: I don't want it. Put it back.
JILL: No: keep it. I'm not having you say I don't do my bit
towards paying the bills.
RON: I refuse to quarrel over money.
JILL: You refuse to quarrel over anything.
RON: What's that supposed to mean? You'd prefer blazing rows all
the time?
JILL: No, no anything for a quiet life.
RON: Look, Jill
JILL: Oh, forget it. Get off to work.
RON: Yeah, I'd better.
JILL: See you at breakfast.
RON: If I'm lucky.
JILL: If I'm lucky, I think you mean?
RON: I can't help it, can I?
JILL: No.
RON: It's my job.
JILL: I know it's your bloody job.
RON: What will you be doing tonight?
JILL: Tonight?
RON: Yeah.
JILL: Oh, didn't I tell you? The Vicar's coming at nine for a
few hands of strip poker.
RON: Huh?
JILL: Then we'll have oral sex, followed by coffee at about
eleven.
RON: Oh, I see a joke.
JILL: Well, what do you think I'm doing tonight? The same as every
other night nothing.
RON: I shall be on days in a fortnight.
JILL: Something to look forward to, then.
RON: You knew it would be like this. You shouldn't have married a
policeman.
JILL: No, I shouldn't, should I? You'd better go.
RON: I've got a couple of days leave due. Maybe we could go out
somewhere?
JILL: Where?
RON: I dunno drive to the sea, maybe?
JILL: It's November. Let's not.
RON: Oh, suit yourself.

RON picks up his uniform cap.

JILL: Ron
RON: Don't bother to see me out.

JILL takes his arm

JILL: I'm sorry. I would like to go out somewhere. Ask about that
leave, eh? We could take a long walk somewhere, like we used to do.
(Moves away) I know you can't help the hours you work. It gets on
top of me sometimes; I hardly ever seem to see you.
RON: We're short-handed at the moment.
JILL: When are you not? You're always bloody short-handed.
RON: I wish you wouldn't swear so much.
JILL: You call "bloody" swearing? Would you like to hear what I
can do when I'm really trying?
RON: No, thank you. Lots of women have their husbands away all week.
At least you see me every day.
JILL: I think I'd prefer it if you were away all week. At least we
could look forward to uninterrupted week-ends. I could plan ahead. We
could have folks round for dinner sometimes. As it is, we never know
when you're going to be called back in. Then it's always me has to
ring round and cancel at short notice.
RON: I'm off the week-end after next: it's as good as definite.
JILL: That's just it, Ron it isn't as good as definite, is
it? If a child goes missing on the Friday night, they'll muddle
through without you, will they, if we have Tim and Jenny coming over
for a meal?
RON: You know very well that's different.
JILL: I'm just fed up living from minute to minute to minute,
never able to plan ahead. Why couldn't you have been a bloody
school-teacher or a civil servant? Anything but a sodding policeman.
And don't tell me I'm swearing again! I know you can't help your
job. I'm just being unreasonable.
RON: You need to get out of the house more.
JILL: Thank you. I will I'll spend more time in shoe shops.
RON: Neil's on duty tonight. Sophia will be on her own. You could
go round and see her.
JILL: Thank you, but I can pick my own friends. I'm quite a big
girl now.
RON: What's wrong with Sophia?
JILL: Nothing, if you can put up with her whining voice and her
fascinating insights into the private lives of the Coronation Street
cast.
RON: Oh, what's the use? I'm going to work.
JILL: Go to work. Go and play cops and robbers. I might be here when
you get back.

RON goes out. JILL stares into space. RON returns.

RON: What's the time?
JILL: Ask a policeman.
RON: I can't find my bloody watch.
JILL: Don't swear, darling. I can't bear to hear a man swear.
RON: Well, where is it?
JILL: How should I know?
RON: Well, you're always moving things.
JILL: Because you leave them lying about, darling.
RON: Oh, shit! I'll have to go without it. (Exit)

JILL sits in the easy chair and picks up a newspaper. RON comes
back.

On the hall table.
JILL: Hmm?
RON: My watch on the hall table.
JILL: Jolly good.
RON: I'm off now, then I said
JILL: Um. Bye.
RON: Bye.
JILL: Ron?
RON: Well?
JILL: Can I have a baby?
RON: What!
JILL: A baby. I'd like a baby.
RON: How can we talk about this now? I'm just going to work, for
Christ's sake!
JILL: You're always just going to do something. We never have time
for a proper talk.
RON: I didn't know you wanted to.
JILL: No? Well I do.
RON: Well, we can't now. In the morning we'll talk in the
morning. For definite.
JILL: Right.
RON: I really do have to go. My shift is in five minutes.
JILL: Yes. Go. Goodbye.

JILL reads the paper.

RON: (Sitting on settee arm) A couple of months ago
JILL: You still here? I thought you'd gone.
RON: A couple of months ago we had it all out. We agreed we
couldn't afford children yet.
JILL: I'm thirty-four, Ron. How much longer would you like me to
wait?
RON: But if the money's not thereWe agreed.
JILL: You agreed.
RON: Well, didn't we?
JILL: I don't know, Ron. If you say so, I suppose we did. I
imagine you told me what we could do, as usual, and I said nothing.
That counts as agreement in this house, doesn't it?
RON: We agreed to wait until I got a promotion.
JILL: Yes, dear.
RON: Well, didn't we?
JILL: And this promotion is expected when? Next week? Next year?
When Sergeant Davies pops his clogs? Thirty-four, Ron. Thirty-four.

RON has no answer.

Go on. Get off to work, while you still have a job to go to. I'll
be all right.
RON: Sure?
JILL: Just a bout of the blues. Sorry to take it out on you.
RON: What are husbands for?
JILL: I take it you don't really want me to answer that? Go on.
I'll be fine.
RON: See you in the morning, then.
JILL: Yeah.
RON: Have an early night.
JILL: I will. Take care.
RON: Yeah.
JILL: Go! You're late already.

RON exits. JILL reads the paper for a while, but soon throws it
away. She picks up the TV remote and flicks the set on. (Invisible
somewhere out where the Audience is sitting) She scrolls through a few
channels then turns the set off. She tries on the new shoes, walks a
few steps, puts them back in the box. She fiddles with the toes of one
stockinged foot, then replaces the old shoes. Time is hanging heavily.
She picks up the phone.

Hello John? This is Jill.Yes, we're both fine thanks. Well,
Ron has a sore throat. Is Marilyn there? Oh, is she? Oh, are
you? That's nice.They say it's very good.Well, don't
let me keep you.no, it was nothing important, honestly just a
chat.Yes, yes, we must. Have a lovely time, then.Yes, on duty
again, isn't it awful? Yes, yes, I will. Goodbye.

JILL puts down the receiver, and, after a moment's hesitation,
goes out of the room. She returns with some dressmaking, and lays it
out on the rug in front of the settee. She finds something missing,
and goes out of the room again. There is the sound of glass breaking.
The window curtains move, and STEVE RILEY enters. He is dressed in
black jumper and jeans, and carries a briefcase. He quickly scans the
room for something to steal. He goes through the pockets of the jacket
and finds nothing. He throws it down onto the chair. A few ornaments
attract him. He has one in his hand as JILL re-enters. She screams on
seeing him. His face goes from horror to amazement, on seeing JILL.

STEVE: Jill!
JILL: Steve! My goodness, Steve! What are you doing?
STEVE: Admiring this piece of Wedgewood. Someone has impeccable
taste. (He puts it down.)
JILL: How did you get in?
STEVE: The back door was open.
JILL: Really? That's not like Ron. Do you usually enter people's
houses by the back door?
STEVE: Oh, sure. You know me.
JILL: Yes, I do, don't I?
STEVE: You're looking good.
JILL: Liar. What are you doing here, Steve?
STEVE: Thought I'd give you a surprise.
JILL: Congratulations you succeeded.

They stare at each other for a few seconds

Well, well.
STEVE: Well, well, well. You're staring at me.
JILL: Sorry.
STEVE: No, please I like it. Don't stop.
JILL: I just can't get over your turning up in my house like this.
After all these years. How did you find me?
STEVE: It wasn't easy. You'd covered your tracks pretty well.
Why didn't you answer any of my letters?
JILL: Why haven't you answered my question?
STEVE: I hired the services of a very expensive private detective.
JILL: A private detective? You're joking.
STEVE: Very good, he was. A Mr Holmes of Baker Street. You might
have heard of him?
JILL: Seriously.
STEVE: I asked around old friends.
JILL: Tracey?
STEVE: I promised I wouldn't say.
JILL: When did you see Tracey?
STEVE: Last month.
JILL: In Germany?
STEVE: Before she went. Might have been more than a month. Anyway, I
pestered her and pestered her until she gave me your address.
JILL: Wait till I see her. She swore she would never tell you where
to find me. Some friend.
STEVE: Don't blame Tracey. I was very persuasive.
JILL: I bet you were.
STEVE: I made a real nuisance of myself every trick in the book.
Look don't say anything to Tracey I promised I wouldn't
let on who told me.
JILL: Your promises still don't mean much, evidently.
STEVE: Unfair you forced a confession.
JILL: Well, wellSteve Riley!
STEVE: Jill Westwood.
JILL: Mrs Gillian Matthews.
STEVE: I heard. But let's talk about the good things you
really do look fantastic.
JILL: I don't. I look a mess.
STEVE: I love your hair that length makes you look sexy.
JILL: Steve!
STEVE: Sorry. Keep forgetting married woman.
JILL: Yeah. Ten years married. Nearly eleven, actually.
STEVE: Lucky bloke.
JILL: Perhaps you could tell him that.
STEVE: I will. Are we going to meet?
JILL: Definitely not.
STEVE: I'll leave him a note, then, shall I? "Dear Mr Matthews,
you lucky sod you have a very sexy wife."
JILL: I don't feel very sexy, I can assure you.
STEVE: At this momentor never?
JILL: That isn't a question you should ask a married woman.
STEVE: I'll try to remember for next time.
JILL: And it's a No to the note, by the way.
STEVE: Ah. Are you going to ask me to sit down?
JILL: Do you need an invitation? You didn't ask to come in.
STEVE: Would you like me to go?
JILL: If that's what you want.
STEVE: Why should I want to go when it's taken me so long to find
you? I'll sit down.

STEVE sits in the easy chair. JILL sits on the sofa.

You haven't changed one bit in twelve years: just as beautiful as
ever.
JILL: Flattery will get you nowhere.
STEVE: Who says I want to get somewhere?
JILL: You always did.
STEVE: Ah, then I was young. Can I have a fruit?
JILL: What?
STEVE: Fruit. You know apple, banana, pearthat sort of
thing? You have some in a bowl on the table.
JILL: Of course you can. Help yourself.

STEVE selects an apple

STEVE: Want anything?
JILL: I could fancy an orange.
STEVE: Too messy. Have a banana.

STEVE tosses her a banana.

JILL: I don't want a banana, thank you, Stephen. Stop bossing me.
STEVE: I'm not bossing you, Gillian. There aren't any oranges in
the bowl.
JILL: There bloody are.
STEVE: There bloody aren't.
JILL: How odd. Have you taken them?
STEVE: Oh, sure. I've given up insurance. I steal oranges now
it pays better.
JILL: Ron must have finished them off this afternoon. Odd. He's
not really a fruit sort of guy.
STEVE: Sudden craving. Perhaps he's pregnant.
JILL: That isn't funny, Steve.
STEVE: No kids, then?
JILL: No
STEVE: Accident, or design?
JILL: Not your business, I think.
STEVE: Accident. Bad luck.
JILL: My God! You can be insensitive!
STEVE: Sorry didn't realise I'd touched a nerve.
JILL: I thank my lucky stars I didn't marry you.
STEVE: Me, too. (Sits and crunches his apple) When I think what I
nearly let myself in forphew!
JILL: I seem to remember at our last meeting you were in floods of
tears, begging me to take you back.
STEVE: Now who's being insensitive? Let's talk about something
else.
JILL: By all means. Shall we ask each other polite questions, or get
straight to the point?
STEVE: Which is?
JILL: What you're doing here.
STEVE: Eating an apple.
JILL: What you're really doing here.
STEVE: I wanted to see you again.
JILL: Just like that? After twelve years? You suddenly thought: "I
know, I'll turn up at old Jill's house and scare the living
daylights out of her." Why didn't you phone..? Or did you?
STEVE: Um
JILL: All those calls we've been having with just a long
silencewas that you?
STEVE: I couldn't think of what to say.
JILL: So much easier to sneak in through the back door and shout
"Surprise!"
STEVE: I didn't do that, did I? Look, I needed to see you again.
It's that simple. If I'd asked on the phone you might have put me
off.
JILL: Why should I? It's nice to hear from old friends. We could
have arranged something. You could have come round to meet Ron.
STEVE: I didn't want to meet Ron. I wanted to see you.
JILL: Well, here I am. What now?
STEVE: Go for a drink?
JILL: Better not.
STEVE: You'd be ashamed to be seen with me, is that it?
JILL: With any strange man on his own. Married woman. Reputation.
STEVE: Yours is that bad, is it?
JILL: You wouldn't believe it.
STEVE: "There's that Matthews woman again, with another toy
boy."
JILL: You flatter yourself, don't you?
STEVE: You're older than me.
JILL: Six months.
STEVE: But I'm still a bachelor gay. Keeps me youthful.
JILL: Why didn't you say you were gay? My reputation's not at
risk, then.

STEVE makes a gay gesture, and grins.

So you never married? No wait you've been married, but she
found out what a heel you are, and there was a messy divorce. Now
you're on your own again, you thought you'd look out your old
address book. How am I doing?
STEVE: Missed by miles. I never married.
JILL: Why? What's wrong with you? Apart from the things I already
know about, obviously: insensitivity insincerityinfidelity
STEVE: You're very good at this. Do you do it for a living?
JILL: What?
STEVE: Run people down and make them feel worthless.
JILL: Not people, no. Just you.
STEVE: You hate me that much? Still?
JILL: Why should I hate you? I haven't thought about you for
twelve years.
STEVE: Thanks.
JILL: I bet you haven't thought about me much.
STEVE: You'd lose that bet. I've thought about you every day.
Does that count as much?
JILL: Careful, Steve I might start believing you.
STEVE: It's the truth. I don't care whether you believe it.
JILL: Well, I don't, but thanks for the compliment. It's always
nice to have one's ego boosted.
STEVE: Is it? I wouldn't know.
JILL: Aah. Shall I cry, or play the violin?
STEVE: Can you?
JILL: What? Cry?
STEVE: No play the violin?
JILL: No.
STEVE: I'll settle for the crocodile tears, then. Hey it's
funny, isn't it?
JILL: What is?
STEVE: The way we've slipped back.
JILL: No you've lost me.
STEVE: Into the banter we always had: you being rude to me; me
taking it in good part.
JILL: That's banter, is it?
STEVE: Oh yes.
JILL: Funny. I always thought I was simply pointing out your
faults.
STEVE: What all the time?
JILL: You had so many.
STEVE: See? We're doing it again. Fun, isn't it? Are you going
to nibble on that phallic symbol, or shall I put it back in the pack?
JILL: I can manage.

JILL stands and replaces the banana.

JILL: Shall I make as a drink, now I'm on my feet?
STEVE: Sounds good.
JILL: Tea or coffee?
STEVE: Go on.
JILL: Sorry?
STEVE: I'm waiting for more choices.
JILL: Oh, I see. There isn't much else. Might be some whisky at
the back of the cupboard, if that would do?
STEVE: Single malt?
JILL: Supermarket blend.
STEVE: Have to do. Will you join me?
JILL: Why not? We were saving it for a special occasion, but what
the hell? I won't be a minute.

JILL goes out. STEVE replaces the jacket tidily on the back of the
chair, and checks that each ornament is where it should be.

JILL: (Off) Anything with it?
STEVE: Just you.
JILL: (Off) Nice one.

STEVE goes back to the chair where he was sitting before as JILL
re-enters with two glasses of whisky.

JILL: Here we are. This one's yours.
STEVE: How do you know?
JILL: It's the one I spat in. Cheers.
STEVE: Cheers. This is good, isn't it?
JILL: The cheapest they had.
STEVE: I meant us sharing a drink. I feel like a proper visitor.
JILL: Just remember that you're not.
STEVE: What am I, then?
JILL:
Immatureirresponsibleunreliablefecklessunpredictable
STEVE: Steady on! Do you want to make me big-headed?
JILL: Oh yesand conceited.
STEVE: If I was all those things, why did you love me so much?
JILL: Blindedself-deluded

STEVE silences her with a kiss.

Ooh. You shouldn't have done that.

They look at each other in silence.

STEVE: (Sitting) So: how have you been keeping, then?
JILL: I mean, you really shouldn't have done it. I'm married. We
can't
STEVE: We just did.
JILL: I mean, we mustn'tyou should go.
STEVE: Is that what you want?
JILL: No. But don't do that again.
STEVE: Let's just talk, then. Tell me about your life.
JILL: What's to tell? I'm married; Ron's a policeman; no
children as you so tactfully observed; holidays in Spain; big
mortgageYou?
STEVE: Rented flat; all alone; one cat.
JILL: Funny what Life has in store.
STEVE: I've missed you.
JILL: You said.
STEVE: I sort of hoped you might have missed me just a
smidgeon.
JILL: Are we being serious now?
STEVE: Deadly. No really did you miss me at all?
JILL: Of course I did at first.
STEVE: Only at first.
JILL: Life goes on. Anyway, I was the one who ended it, remember?
I'm allowed to forget.
STEVE: We had some good times, though, didn't we?
JILL: Did we?
STEVE: You know we did.
JILL: Yeah. We did. Between the fights and the rows.
STEVE: The sex was good.
JILL: Between the fights and the rows.
STEVE: Well, it was good for me, anyway.
JILL: That's what matters, then.
STEVE: I don't remember any complaints at the time.
JILL: I was so inexperienced. I would have settled for anything.
STEVE: So your sex-life has gone from strength to strength then, has
it, after our early fumbling experiments?
JILL: I think we should talk about something else?
STEVE: Why? Has Ron got the room bugged?
JILL: I'm just not comfortable. It's not
STEVE: Safe ground?
JILL: Appropriate.
STEVE: Ah, of course. We must be appropriate.
JILL: It's in the past, Steve.
STEVE: And you're a married woman.
JILL: Yes.
STEVE: With no children. I wanted you to have children with me.
Think how beautiful and smart they would have been with all your
qualities and mine.
JILL: Can we not talk about children?
STEVE: We can talk about anything you like. Or we could sit in
companionable silence and give each other adoring glances.
JILL: Not going to happen.
STEVE: God, but you're lovely!
JILL: Stop it, Steve.
STEVE: You are, though. You have blossomed into the full ripeness of
your beauty. My loins ache just looking at you.
JILL: Stop it.
STEVE: I want to kiss you again.

[end of extract]

Price $7.99 Add to cart