The River

THE OTHER WOMAN. Shouting.

THE MAN. When.

THE OTHER WOMAN. By the river. I was shouting too.

THE MAN. Where? When?

THE OTHER WOMAN. So you didn’t hear.

THE MAN. Wait. Stop. Why were you shouting? If nothing was wrong why were you shouting. If you weren’t hurt or being eaten by a wolf or… drowning… If everything was fine, why were you shouting?

THE OTHER WOMAN. I’ll show you.

She reaches in her bag and pulls out an enormous sea trout. Three pounds. Slaps it on the table.

THE MAN. Where did you get that?

THE OTHER WOMAN. I’ll give you three guesses.

THE MAN. Fuck me. She’s enormous.

THE OTHER WOMAN. She? She’s a girl?

THE MAN. A grilse. She’s straight from the sea.

THE OTHER WOMAN. That’s right. A grilse. That’s what Danny said she was.

THE MAN. Jesus! (Stops.) Danny? Who’s Danny?

THE OTHER WOMAN. A fisherman.

THE MAN. Where?

THE OTHER WOMAN. By the river. I met him in the dark. Nice bloke. He helped me land him. Her.

THE MAN. He helped you.

THE OTHER WOMAN. Yes.

Beat.

THE MAN. Well, good for him. You were lucky then. They’re not easy to land. Not for a novice. Not alone. Jesus. It must be three pounds.

THE OTHER WOMAN. Three pounds three-and-a-half ounces. Danny weighed it.

Beat.

THE MAN. Did he.

THE OTHER WOMAN. He was really helpful. Danny said the sea trout have been shy all summer. He’s a plumber. And a drummer. But he’s thinking of leaving. The singer’s a prat. So we had a chat. Then we shared a quick spliff. Then Danny took a look at that thing you tied on the end of my rod, that orange thingy. What was it called?

THE MAN. An Orange Darter.

THE OTHER WOMAN. Right. He cut that off and put on something else.

THE MAN. What? What did he put on?

THE OTHER WOMAN. A Monster Munch.

OTHER WOMAN. I was down by the river.

THE MAN. Where by the river?

THE OTHER WOMAN. Where you left me.

THE MAN. I looked there.

THE OTHER WOMAN. Well / that’s where I was.

THE MAN. I shouted and shouted. Where were you?

THE OTHER WOMAN. Where were you?

THE MAN. I called the police.

THE OTHER WOMAN. What? Why?

THE MAN. I’ve been talking to the fucking… Just now.

THE OTHER WOMAN. The police?!

THE MAN. They were going to send a fucking helicopter. I was shouting and shouting. Up and down for two hours.

THE OTHER WOMAN. I got bored.

THE MAN. What?

THE OTHER WOMAN. I was just standing there in the dark. It was boring. I went for a walk.

THE MAN. Where?

THE OTHER WOMAN. Up the river.

THE MAN. And you didn’t tell me.

THE OTHER WOMAN. I couldn’t find you.

THE MAN. You fucking idiot.

THE OTHER WOMAN laughs. He goes to hug her.

I’m sorry. I was so worried.

THE OTHER WOMAN. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare –

THE MAN. I just… I thought something – I thought… Are you okay. You look pale.

THE OTHER WOMAN. I’m fine.

THE MAN. Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?

THE OTHER WOMAN. Do I look like I’ve been crying?

THE MAN. You look like you’ve been crying.

THE OTHER WOMAN. I haven’t been crying.

THE MAN. Whiskey. I need a whiskey. You need a whiskey. We need whiskey. (Starts searching cupboards.) Where’s the fucking whiskey? It was right here. Here in this drawer. Where the fuck’s it gone? I can’t believe you didn’t hear me. I was shouting for hours.

THE OTHER WOMAN. I didn’t hear you. Did you hear me?

THE MAN. What? When?

MAN. What?

THE WOMAN. No you don’t, chum. I’m not the one he took to his cabin who got sunburn. Splinter Girl. The Table-Mover. I want to be shaken to my core. I want a million lightning bolts shot up my arse. Give me the poem.

THE MAN. Honestly you / don’t have to.

THE WOMAN. Give me the poem.

THE MAN. It’s your holiday…

THE WOMAN. Then give me the poem.

He looks at her. He gives her the poem.

(Reads.) ‘After Moonless Midnight.

I waded, deepening, and the fish

Listened for me. They watched my each move

Through their magical skins. In the stillness

Their eyes waited, furious with gold brightness,

Their gills moved. And in their thick sides

The power waited. And in their torpedo

Concentration, their mouth-aimed intent

Their savagery waited, and their explosion.

They waited for me… The whole river

Listened to me… and, blind,

Invisibly watched me. And held me deeper

With its blind invisible hands

“We’ve got him” it whispered. “We’ve got him”.’

They look at each other.

Darkness.

The river, rushing.

The cabin. Lit by a paraffin lamp. THE MAN, fishing jacket, pacing, alone. Sweating. Dialing a number on his phone.

THE MAN. Hello. Hello? (Looks at his phone. Bad signal. Shakes it. Finds a place to stand where it works. Dials again.) Hello? Police. Someone is missing. A woman. She went to the river. We were fishing. There’s no moon. I lost her. In the dark. Hello? (Looks at it.) Fuck. (Rage.) Fuck it. (Bangs it on the table. Puts it to his ear.) Hello? (Beat.) Yes. Hello? Hello? Who’s – ? Who are – ? I was talking to a woman. A police… (Beat.) Okay. Sir. (Beat.) Between St Crispin’s and the Long Pool. The long stretch under the oak trees. Yes. (Beat.) I don’t know. It was pitch dark. I called and called. (Listens.) She’s thirty. About five six, slim build. She’s wearing a… my fishing jacket. My old fishing jacket. It’s green. And –

A door bangs offstage.

Wait. Wait there. Hold on. (Calls.) Who is it? Is that you?

WOMAN’S VOICE (off). Here!

THE MAN. Thank Christ.

WOMAN’S VOICE (off). Quick come see!

THE MAN. Thank fuck. (Into phone.) Sorry. I’m sorry. She’s back. False alarm. I’m extremely sorry. Thank you. Thank you. (Hangs up. Closes eyes.) Thank you.

Enter THE OTHER WOMAN. She stands in the lantern glow.

Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for two hours. Where the fuck were you?

THE MAN. Now suck it.

THE WOMAN. I’m sucking it.

THE MAN. Suck it hard.

THE WOMAN. Stop saying that. I’m sucking it.

THE MAN. I’ll put a plaster on it.

THE WOMAN. I don’t need a plaster. Besides, I deserved it.

THE MAN. What?

THE WOMAN. I never should have moved it.

THE MAN. Look –

THE WOMAN. New girlfriend. Shows up. Moves the table –

THE MAN. Look I don’t –

THE WOMAN. First time here. Moves the table.

THE MAN. Okay –

THE WOMAN. No warning. Just… moves it.

THE MAN. Look –

THE WOMAN. I also took a dead spider out of your coffee pot.

THE MAN. To be absolutely clear, I don’t care if you move the table. I don’t care if you break a glass. I don’t care if you smash a window or accidentally burn the cabin to the ground with me inside. I do care if you don’t come with me, now, to the – (Stops.) Wait. Wait there. (Heads to a small bookshelf.) There. (Pulls book out, flicks pages.) Wait. Wait. Wait there. Don’t move. (Stops.) Here. Read this. Just read that. And if after you’ve read it, you don’t want to come, you don’t have to. Deal? But read it. Read the poem. Read it aloud.

THE WOMAN. You want me to read this aloud.

THE MAN. Read the title.

THE WOMAN. Aloud.

THE MAN. Yes.

BOTH (she reads). ‘After / Moonless Midnight.’

THE MAN. ‘After Moonless Midnight.’ ‘After Moonless Midnight.’ Okay. Now read it.

THE WOMAN. Do you mind? I’m / trying to rea–

THE MAN. Okay just read it.

THE WOMAN. May I? (Pause.) ‘After Moonless Midnight.’ By… (Looks at cover. Makes face.) Hmm…

THE MAN. Wait. Stop. (Beat.) What do you mean? What’s that supposed to mean?

THE WOMAN. What? Nothing. What did I do?

THE MAN. Give it back.

THE WOMAN. I’m reading it.

THE MAN. Give it back.

.

THE MAN. The table’s moved.

THE WOMAN. What?

THE MAN. What? No I was just –

THE WOMAN. I can move it back.

THE MAN. No, it’s fine. I was just saying… I don’t know why. It’s no big deal.

THE WOMAN. I’ll move it back.

THE MAN. What? Don’t.

THE WOMAN. It’s the work of a moment. Here. (Picks it up.) Oww.

THE MAN. What’s wrong? Are you okay.

THE WOMAN. I’m fine.

THE MAN. Show me.

THE WOMAN. It’s just a splinter.

THE MAN. Let me look at it.

THE WOMAN. Ow.

THE MAN. Let me see.

THE WOMAN. It’s a splinter.

THE MAN. Show me it.

THE WOMAN. I said I’m fine.

THE MAN. It’s bleeding. Come here. Let me see. (Takes her hand.) That’s deep.

He takes out a knife.

THE WOMAN. What are you doing?

THE MAN. I’m going to get it out.

THE WOMAN. Not with that you’re not…

THE MAN. Trust me.

She holds out her hand.

Ready?

THE WOMAN. Wait. The other end. It went in this way.

THE MAN. Keep still. Ready.

THE WOMAN. Fuck it.

THE MAN. Ready. Steady.

THE WOMAN. Ow.

He pulls it out.

MAN (to himself). August. Low cloud. (Aloud.) Blood red as far as the headland turning to lilac-blue wisps above the bluff. Trails of apricot, feathering out through blue, dark blue, and aquamarine to an iris ring of obsidian and above that the Evening Star. (Finds it.) Yes! You little beauty. We’re all set.

Beat.

THE WOMAN. That was a magical moment. ‘That evening at the cabin. When they watched the sun set. Our sunset he called it. And she remembered the moment for ever.’

THE MAN. Why aren’t you dressed? It’s nearly dark.

THE WOMAN. I’m not coming.

THE MAN. What?

THE WOMAN. I have sunburn. And my book just got good.

THE MAN. What’s the date today?

THE WOMAN. To the Lighthouse.

THE MAN. August 21st.

THE WOMAN. Virginia Woolf.

THE MAN. What does that make tomorrow?

THE WOMAN. It’s about these people who go to a lighthouse…

THE MAN. August 22nd.

THE WOMAN. Or do they? Will they actually make it…

THE MAN. Which is…?

THE WOMAN. To the lighthouse…?

THE MAN. The New Moon! Tonight there’s no moon. It’s warm. Cumulus cloud. Big sunset –

THE WOMAN. You don’t say?

THE MAN. Once a year, when there’s no moon. Late summer, when the river’s in spate, that’s when they move. The sea trout. The sea trout are running! The storm last night. No rain for weeks. The pools get low, then whoosh! A million tons of water drops from the sky. In one night. They’re out there, right now, with no moon, a neap tide –

THE WOMAN. Look. You / tried to –

THE MAN. This happens / once every year.

THE WOMAN. You tried to teach me –

THE MAN (interrupting). Once!

THE WOMAN. You tried to teach me to cast all day on the beach. All I did was make knots. I couldn’t do it in broad / daylight.

THE MAN. It’s easy. You / just feel it.

THE WOMAN. How am I going to do it in the pitch bloody dark.

THE MAN (interrupting). There are monsters out there. Huge monsters. In the water. Right now!

THE WOMAN. You’re really selling this.

‘At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.’