Scene 2 - Saturday Morning - Portrait Session.
Edna and Maureen are at their easels. Helen is between them; their sitting model.
Judith sprawls on the floor, drawing. Gus shuffles around looking at their work.
The scene starts quietly with plenty of pauses. They just feel they should fill the silences with conversation.
Gus. How are we doing?
Edna. I wish you'd let me have a rubber.
Gus. Perhaps we'll swap around soon and you can be piggy in the middle.
Helen. I'm sorry?
Gus. I mean that you and Maureen can draw Edna.
Helen. I didn't come to participate..... I just brought Judith.
Gus. Can't we tempt you to scribble just a little. You're in for a rather boring weekend otherwise.
Helen. No.... Really.
Gus. Well it's up to you, of course.
Helen. Thank you.
Pause.
Gus looks at Edna's efforts.
Gus. The eye-line is roughly central in the head, remember. And the bottom of the nose halves it again.
Edna. Oh, right.
Gus. You can do all that stuff holding the pencil at arm's length and using it as a measure, if you like. It's something of an artistic cliché, but it does actually work.
Edna. I'll give it a go.
Pause.
Helen. I used to – at one time.
Gus. Sorry?.... Used to what?
Helen. Water colours. I had a Rowney paint box for my fourteenth birthday. It had fourteen tubes of paint. I remember that because it was how old I was. And there was a book on how to do water colours.
Gus. Painting by numbers, eh?
Helen. Anyway, Gordon's the artistic one, not me.
Edna. Is that where your daughter gets her talent from, then?
Helen. Probably.... What's she doing down there, by the way? Is she behaving herself?
Edna. (Spinning round on her chair to look). She's fine. She's just drawing..... (Calling to her). What are you drawing, dear? (There is no response). Oh, well.... No trouble at all, is she really?... Bless her.
Helen gets up and goes over to Judith.
Helen. (Pulling Judith's dress down to cover an expanse of leg). But I wish she'd sit on a chair. I'm afraid this isn't very lady like, but she draws like this at home.
Gus. I shouldn't worry.
Helen. (Realising that the others have stopped drawing). Oh, of course. I'm sorry.... Sorry.
She sits back down.
Edna. So you're husband's artistic then, Helen?
Helen. Artistic appreciation is his pass-time. He likes classical music and theatre and opera too. Particularly the opera. He goes to Glyndbourne every year.
Gus. Glyndbourne, eh? All right for some.
Helen. It's mainly corporate hospitality for his clients.
Gus. Ah... Hob-nobbing with the hob-nobs.
Helen. Sometimes he takes Judith to the National Gallery in his lunch hour; if he's not too busy that is. She likes going with him – in the winter time, that is, when there's not too many people. But when she's there she doesn't seem to look at the pictures at all. He's tried to interest her in them. Takes endless patience with her - endless. But she'll come away and draw the building or a room or a panelled door or something.... Still.... That's just like her.
Gus comes across Judith's ring of keys, lying on the floor near her.
Gus. (Moving them with his stick). Is there anything significant about these?
Judith immediately grabs them and clutches them in her palms, squeezing them. Over the next few lines she gradually lapses into total inertness, staring into nothing.
Gus. Ah... Apparently, yes.
Helen. They're her comforter. Like a doll or teddy bear.
Edna. Not very cuddly.
Helen. She likes that, the sharpness of them and the hardness and the shapes. And dolls don't really mean anything to her. She feels more comfortable with objects you see, she relates to them better.... Well that's what her therapist used to say anyway.
Edna. Her therapist?
Helen. We took her to a clinic for a while. She used to be quite unmanageable; a real wild child, and she had me at the end of my tether once or twice.... Well more than once or twice actually.
Edna. I can imagine.
Helen. All the therapist said was that we were lucky. Judith has her artistic gift that absorbs her, preoccupies her – well most of the time. Ninety nine cases out of a hundred don't have anything, no remarkable talent, nothing – or else their obsession is more destructive...... Yes. I suppose we are lucky.
Maureen. She must have hundreds of keys there.
Helen. Yes. And every so often she takes them all off and rearranges them by colour, shape, size, type. I think she invents personalities for them, gives them names in her head. It can keep her occupied for hours.
Gus. Simple things please simple minds.
Helen. (A little sharply). She's very intelligent. Perhaps too intelligent. I think that can sometimes happen, don't you?
Gus. Yes... Of course.
There is a pause as Edna resumes drawing. Maureen watches Judith, still frozen.
Edna. You should have brought your husband along, Helen. A bit of male company for Gus. (To Gus). Only I expect you find us ladies all a bit of a muchness on some of these weekends.
Gus. Perish the thought, Edna! Although I have to admit, I sometimes leave you all to chat after dinner while I escape to the local.
Edna. I might have guessed.
Helen. Oh, Gordon is much too busy for this type of thing. He often has to work weekends.
Maureen. Is she all right? She's just frozen. Been like that for a while.
Helen. She's just thinking – I think – we assume.
Edna. Bless 'er. Looks just like a pretty doll, sitting still like that.
Judith suddenly gets up (still holding her keys) and goes to the drawing of the reclining figure still attached to Gus's easel.
Edna. Oh, she's off.
Helen. Judith? Where are you going?
Maureen. Perhaps she heard us talking about her.
Judith stares at the drawing, she traces the lines again with her finger. Then she just stares at it, frozen again.
Edna. Do you work?
Helen. Looking after my daughter is a full time job.
Edna. I suppose it must be, dear.
Helen. Joo Joo, don't spoil the drawing, there's a good girl.
Gus. It doesn't matter. And I don't know about the National Gallery, but she's certainly looking at that picture.
Helen. It's the charcoal that interests her.
Edna. Has she got any brothers or sisters?
Helen. No.
Edna. Shame. I always think two or three's nicer than just the one. Nicer for them and nicer for you. That's what I always say.
Helen. Perhaps.
Edna. Did you never think of trying for another then?
Helen. No. We – we thought it wouldn't be a good idea.
Maureen. Did you work at one time?
Helen. (Keen to turn her attention to Maureen). Oh, yes.... I used to be a lexicographer at Oxford University. Do you know Oxford at all?
Maureen. Not really.
Helen. It's wonderful. Wrapped up in all that history, all that tradition..... And the shops just filling the gaps between the colleges, like two places squeezed into one – town and gown as they say. And there were bicycles just everywhere in term time, you wouldn't believe how many. All the time you could hear the clickerty-click of the old cylinder gears as the students cycled around.... All the time.
Well, it was like that then, in the sixties..... I'm not sure about now.
Judith stops gazing at the drawing on Gus's easel and goes to the projector at the back. During the next few speeches she looks at it, feels its contours, taps its hard and shiny surfaces with her free hand.
Edna. A lexi-what? did you say?
Helen. Lexicographer. Dictionaries, etymology, word derivation.
Edna. Oh.
Helen. I did my degree there too; classics. And my MA and PhD. I was there for eight years.
Gus. Well, well, well. Didn't know we had such an academic in our midst.
Maureen. A PhD? Does that mean you're a doctor then?
Helen. Yes.
Gus. But also a graduate of the swinging sixties, eh?
Helen. I graduated in sixty eight, yes.
Gus. The summer of love.
Helen. Yes, well, that's what they say, don't they.
Maureen. It must have been fantastic back then. I've got all the music, you know, The Beatles especially. I went out and bought them all on CD. Sergeant Peppers and The White Album and everything.... And John Lennon?.... Brilliant.
Edna. Her karma's back there, isn't it dear?
Maureen. Yes.
Gus. Really?
Pause. They work on.
Judith comes and looks at what the others are drawing, but at a distance.
Gus. (Looking at Maureen's drawing). That's good Maureen.
Maureen. Thanks.
Gus. You've captured Helen's nervous gaze most adroitly.
Helen glances at him. Gus starts to get out a cigarette.
Gus. Don't worry, Helen. When I sit and model for these things I'm sure I look bloody petrified. Afterwards, when I examine the pupils' efforts, there's this totally alien individual staring out from the paper at me... Wild eyes, twisted grin, barking mad – talk about ‘non compus mentis’. They then tell me it's a very good likeness..... Worrying really.... (He becomes aware of Judith). And what do you think, young lady?
Judith breaks away and returns to her drawing position on the floor.
Gus. Oh well.... Yes. Very good, Maureen. But the lips a little thinner.
Maureen. Right.
Pause.
Helen. Compos, not compus.
Gus. Sorry?
Helen. The Latin, non compos mentis... Not having possession of the mind. Compos – having possession, or control.
Gus. Ah, yes... Compos. Thank you.
Pause. Helen nervously gets a packet of peppermints from her bag and takes one.
Gus. Anyway, talking of going to the pub after dinner –
Edna. Were we?
Gus. Yes. A while ago. You see, Laura doesn't like me tottering off down the lane to the pub in the dark; thinks I'll career over into a ditch or something. (With a laugh). Can't imagine why, eh?.... So sometimes I take along an escort; some intrepid pupil willing to brave the night air and the gimlet gaze of the locals... You can hear them whispering in corners, you see. (Imitating a Suffolk accent). "At's one o' them there arty-tarty-girls with Gussie an it?... Does she mo-dal for 'im in the nuddie d'y think?"
Edna. (A little mock shock). They don't do they?
Gus. "Wouldn't mind a few le-ssons up at the 'all meself."
Edna. You're pulling our legs.
Gus. (Indicating his lighter). Maureen. Be an angel, would you?
Maureen. (Standing up). Of course.
She lights his cigarette.
Gus. Thanks.... Care to volunteer?
Maureen. (With a nervous glance at the others). What?
Gus. For the pub trip? Not the modelling in the nuddie I mean.... Tonight perhaps? Hold my hand going up the lane? Carry me back after?... I'd buy you a drink or two.
Maureen. (After a pause and a slight smile). All right..... Yes. Why not.
Gus. Good. Look forward to it.
There is a pause
They work on. Occasionally Gus remembers to flick his cigarette ash in a convenient ash tray. At others it just goes on the floor.
Helen. Does any body want a peppermint?
Edna. Oooh, yes please, dear.
Helen moves to Edna who takes one.
Edna. Ta.
Helen. Mo?
Maureen. No thanks, they're not good for the teeth.
Helen. Oh.
Edna. Doesn't bother me... They're not mine anyway.
Helen. (Offering one to Judith). Joo Joo?... Do you want one of my peppermints?
Judith takes one with scarcely any recognition of Helen.
Helen. (Resuming her place). Sorry. I keep moving, don't I?
Edna. I don't think it's going to make much difference to be honest. Not to mine, anyway. I keep telling him I need a rubber.
Gus. I hope you don't mind the smoke by the way, Helen. So many people are paranoid about it these days one gets to feel like a leper.
Helen. No.... Actually Gordon smokes.
Gus. Good for Gordon.
Edna. Yours have got a strange smell though. What are they? herbal or something?
Gus. Sort of.... Actually, my GP's suggestion. A little additive to soothe my battered brain cells.
Edna. Oh, yes? What's that then?
Gus. Cannabis.
Edna. What?! Pot?! But isn't that –
Gus. Illegal? Yes. But what I say is if I'm going to be lumbered with this bugger of a body, I might as well be merry in it. Laura does the cultivating and produces the handy packaging; bless her..... So breathe in and hang loose ladies. (Breathes in and blows out smoke). Doctor's orders.
There is a pause as Edna and Helen exchange glances. Helen has another peppermint.
Edna. You were going to tell us how you got it.
Gus. Got it?
Edna. The bang on the head or whatever.
Gus. Ah, yes... Well now, you mustn't laugh, Edna, but under the influence of too much John Jameson whisky, I – er – fell out of a window.
Edna. Really?
Gus. In Venice it was. But as fate would have it, it was one of the few windows in that fair city without a canal underneath it.
Edna. Never. That was unlucky.
Gus shuffles round to view Edna's drawing.
Gus. No, lucky actually.
Edna. Why?
Gus. I can't swim.
Edna. Get away.... I think you're having me on.
Gus. Perish the thought.
Edna. Actually a little bird told me you're a walking miracle and a bit of a hero to boot.
Gus. A hero?.... Ah, well now. You shouldn't always listen to little birds, Edna – (with a wink at Maureen) – however sweetly they sing.... It's a long story. But I'll tell you what – I'll tell it to you when it's your turn to walk me up the lane.
Edna. You're on.
Gus. (He shuffles over to Judith). Now then. Let's see what our prolific young scribbler seems to be drawing.... Ah, the slide projector. Obviously rather more fascinating to her than you, I'm afraid, Helen.
Helen. Oh, that's quite typical.
Pause.
Gus. Very nice.... If one likes drawings of slide projectors, that is. But we'll have to see if we can move you on to something a little more challenging. After all it's why you're here, isn't it?
Edna. (To Gus). Do you really think you can get through to her?
Gus. Let's see shall we? (To Judith). Judith?..... Can you draw your mother?
There is no response.
Helen. She won't.
Gus. We'll see.... (To Judith again). Can you draw Helen?
There is still no response.
Edna. I'll have a go. (Imitating Helen's intonation). Joo Joo?
Judith stops drawing, but doesn't turn round.
Edna. We're drawing Helen. (Glancing at her own drawing). Well, trying to draw Helen.... Can you draw Helen?
After some hesitation Judith nods, turns over her paper and starts on a new drawing.
Gus. Well done. The grandmotherly touch, no doubt.
Edna. (Very pleased with herself). And did you see that? She nodded, ‘yes’. Bless 'er.
Helen. But that's the limit of her communication I'm afraid.
Gus. Still, we're making progress.
Helen. And she won't be drawing me. She never draws people, only things.
Gus. Really?
Helen. Only things. Never people.
Gus tries to see what Judith is starting to draw.
Maureen. That must be significant, mustn't it?
Judith senses Gus's gaze and freezes.
Gus. All right, my love. Uncle Gussie won't watch. (He moves away).
Maureen. Psychologically I mean. A kind of statement; not drawing people.
Helen. As I said – she feels more comfortable with objects, that's all. But that's okay isn't it? I mean there are plenty of famous landscape painters and still life artists.
Maureen. Do they know what causes it?
Helen. No, not really.
Maureen. Is it inherited?
Gus. Oh, for the tact of the young.
Maureen. I'm sorry I didn't mean – I wasn't implying – or anything.
Helen. It's all right. People ask all sorts of questions, I – well I get used to it.... (Rather evasively). There are some cases where autistic traits can be seen in relatives, male relatives usually. An insular personality with obsessive interests, but few social skills and bad at forming relationships.
Gus. Sounds like most of the male population..... But not Gordon.
Helen. No, not Gordon.
Gus. But usually male?
Helen. Yes.
Pause.
Edna. Has she never spoken?
Helen. No, never.
Edna. But she seems to understand what we say.
Helen. Some of what we say. Simple statements. The names of objects. Instructions. But real communication is impossible. And it's not just words – it's everything. Body language, intonation, even facial expressions. Smiles, frowns, laughter, tears. She just doesn't understand them.
Gus. That's incredible.
Helen. But it's true. She really is profoundly different from how she seems.... She's not like the little doll, the fairy child she might appear to be. She's not like sleeping beauty, just waiting for some prince to come and wake her up. We can't know what will reach her because we're not her. I'm not her, you're not her, nobody is her, she's like nobody you've ever known or likely to know.
Edna. No harm in trying though is there?
Helen. I brought her here to improve her drawing, to get a second opinion, to see if it might be something she can develop. I didn't bring her here to be ‘got through to’.
Edna. Surely there's always hope, dear.
Helen. You think so?.... You asked her to draw ‘Helen’.... Do you think she has? After all, she nodded, ‘yes’.
Edna. I don't know.
Helen. She won't have. Go and look.
Maureen. She might. You never know.
Helen. I know. Go and look.
Pause.
Maureen. Okay.
There is a pause as Maureen moves and looks at the drawing.
Helen. Well?
Maureen picks it up and shows it to the others.
Maureen. I think it's your handbag.
There is silence.
Helen. There, you see? There's Helen..... I've fed her, bathed her, clothed her, cleared up her messes, apologised to strangers for her strange behaviour. Looked after her twenty-four hours a day for twenty years, and no cuddles or kisses in return, never; not even as a baby. And how does she see me?.... Helen is a handbag for her tissues and comb. The psychologists would have a field day with that one, don't you think?...... Of course, actually she knows exactly who Helen is, that much she does know, I assure you. But drawing my bag is just about as close as she gets to formally acknowledging my existence, that's all.
Pause.
Laura enters with a tray of coffee.
Laura. Coffee!..... Now. Maureen I know takes it black these days. How about you, Edna?
Edna. Milk, no sugar, please.
Laura. Fine. Helen?
Helen. (Trying to recover her composure). I'm the same.
Laura. And what will Judith have? I've got milk, fruit juice, whatever.
Helen. (Sharply). She has coffee like everyone else. Black, with sugar – one.
Laura. Fine.
Helen. She's not a child.
Laura. Of course.
Laura prepares the coffee. Judith watches her out of the corner of her eye.
Silence descends.
Laura. Say, you're all very quiet in here.
Pause. Then Gus takes back control.
Gus. Tongues are bitten – in concentration. Now, I was going to give you some helpful hints, wasn't I? The magical herbal extract has done its stuff... Look. (Holding out his shaking right hand). Steady as a rock – on the San Andreas fault.
Gus shuffles to his easel, takes off the top sheet of paper (still with the outline figure) and lets it fall. Judith shifts it to her own territory on the floor.
During the following demonstration she looks intently at the outline of the nude figure, then sets to work on adding detail to the outline. All this is unnoticed by the others who are watching Gus.
Gus. The eye..... Let us do what all great artist's do and examine it's anatomy.... It is not some almond shaped slit through which we peep at the world. It is a sphere, an ‘eyeball’.
Let us imagine that the eye is an orange. (He draws a large faint circle. Again, he can go over fine pencil lines). The lids are the peel and the eyeball is the fruit inside. And let us open the eye; let us cut and remove a segment of the peel..... (He adds the appropriate lines). Comme ça.... Now we give it substance, remembering what it is – a sphere. (He adds a highlight with white chalk and shadow with charcoal) And thus it begins to take shape. But it is still an orange in isolation. Not much like an eye.... So let's add in the shadow of the nose at the side and the brow above, and the highlight of a cheekbone below, putting the eye in it's socket, as it were. (He does so). Add a pupil and iris, noting that its top is nearly always obscured by the lid; the whites of the eye; a few eyelashes...... And voilà!.... I spy with my little eye something beginning with eye.
Maureen. Brilliant.
Edna. That's very clever.
Gus. Always think of the structure that lies beneath. Don't just draw what you see; draw what you know.
Laura. (Going to Judith). Here's your coffee, Judith...... My that's good; really lovely!..... Look, she's drawn me.
The others immediately stop what they are doing.
Pause.
Helen. You?
Laura. Sure.... Like I was last night when you arrived.
Gus. She's drawn you? The life class figure?
Laura. Sure..... What's the big deal? I don't mind her drawing me in the raw. Everybody else has. In fact she can draw me again; it's very flattering.
Edna. But Helen said she never draws people.
Laura. She has here. And it's really good. Come and look.
Gus. So, Joo Joo can't be reached?... Let's not even try.... (He goes to look at the drawing). And it's really rather good.
Helen comes to join the group gathering round Judith.
Helen. But that's your drawing, not hers; the one you did last night.
Gus. The outline, yes..... But she's made it into a complete figure, given it life.... Admit it. She's drawn a person. That's a human being; flesh and blood.
Laura. You mean this is the very first time she's drawn a person?
Gus. Yes.
Laura. Wow.... And it's me..... I'm flattered.
Gus. (Looking at the drawing). Yes, you certainly are..... But do you think Judith knows what flattery is?
Helen. What do you mean?
Gus. Would your daughter draw a younger, slimmer more nubile figure to flatter someone? Or would she draw exactly what she sees? (To Laura). I hate to disappoint you my darling, but I don't think this rather desirable creature she's drawn is you at all.
Helen takes the drawing from Gus with growing realisation.
She stares at it for a second then tears it up.
Laura. Hey!
Helen. She mustn't draw pictures like that. Not like that.
There is a shocked silence.
Gus. Brilliant, Helen.... You've just destroyed your daughter's first self portrait.
Pause.
Suddenly Judith throws a tantrum.
The change is dramatic. From angelic beauty to wild animal in an instant. She kicks and pummels the floor with her feet and fists, banging her head repeatedly on the boards, almost like a fit.
Helen. No! Please, Joo Joo, stop it! Stop it!... You'll hurt yourself!
She tries to contain Judith's movements but is met with flailing limbs.
Helen. Please.... Please!..... I didn't mean it. Really I didn't.... Only you shouldn't draw pictures like that.... Please stop! You're hurting yourself and that's hurting Helen!.... (Grabbing some new paper). Look. Look... Here's some more paper and charcoal... Draw a nice picture for us.... (But Judith rips it up and throws it away). (Pleading). Joo Joo, please!... All right.... I'm sorry.... Draw what you want. Helen won't tear it up again, she promises..... Only please stop!.... Please, Joo Joo!.... Please stop!!
But Judith continues her wild tantrum.
Helen. Her keys.... Where's her keys?..... Helen get Joo Joo's keys. (Pleading through tears). Please, Joo Joo. Please stop! You're hurting yourself and I can't bear it. You know I can't. Please, Joo Joo!
Laura. (Handing them to her). Here.
Judith snatches them, holds them to her and curls up into a tight ball.
Suddenly all is quiet.
Helen puts her arms round her.
Helen. There now.... There now... That's better.... Everything's all right now. (She kisses her head and strokes her hair). Helen won't do that again... Never again.... Never... I promise.
