Martin McDonagh 5 страница

EILEEN: Do you think? Ah there's plenty of time to tell Billy that
story anyways. KATE: There is. The two finish their closing up, Eileen
locking the door, Kate turning the oil lamp low. This'll be the first
decent night's sleep in many a month I've had, Eileen.

EILEEN: I know it will, Kate. Have you finished for good with your
stone shenanigans now?

KATE: I have. They only crop up when I've been worrying, and, you know,
I know I hide it well, but I do worry awful about Billy when he's away
from us. Eu.EN: I do worry awful about Billy when he's away from us
too, but I try not to let stones enter into it. KATE: Ah let's forget
about stones. We have our Billy back with us now.

EILEEN: We do have our Billy back with us. Back for good. KATE: Back
for good.

The two smile and exit to the back room, arm-in-arm. After a pause,
Billy comes in from the back, sniffling, and turns the oil lamp up,
revealing his bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He quietly takes
the sack down from the wall, places inside it numerous cans of peas
until it's very heavy, then ties the cords at the top of the bag
tightly around one of his hands. This done, he pauses in thought a
moment, then shuffles to the door. There is a knock on it. Billy dries
his cheeks, hides the sack behind him and opens the door. Helen pops
her head in. HELEN: (Forcefully) Alright so I'll go out walking with
ya, but only somewheres no fecker would see us and when it's dark and
no kissing or groping, cos I don't want you ruining me fecking
reputation. BILLY: Oh. Okay, Helen.

HEleN: Or anyways not much kissing or groping. BILLY: Would tomorrow
suit?

HELEEN: Tomorrow wouldn't at all suit. Isn't it Bartley's fecking
birthday tomorrow?

BILLY: Is it? What have you got him? HELEN: I got him . . . and for the
life of me I don't know why I did because I know now he'll never stop
fecking jabbering on about it or anyways won't stop jabbering 'til I
give him a big thump in the fecking face for himself and even then he
probably won't stop, but didn't I get the fecker a telescope? BILLY:
That was awful nice of ya, Helen. HE.EN: I think I must be getting soft
in me old age. BILLY: I think so too. HELEN: Do ya? BILLY: Aye.

HELEN: (Coyly) Do ya really, Billy? BILL: I do.

HELEN: Uh-huh. Does this feel soft? Helen pokes Billy hard in the
bandaged face. Billy yelps in pain.

BILLY: Aargh! No, it doesn't feel soft! HELEN: Good-oh, I'll see you
the day after tomorrow for our fecking walk, so. BILY: You will. Helen
kisses Billy briefly, winks at him, and pulls the door behind her as
she exits. Billy is left standing there stunned a moment, then
remembers the sack tied to his hand. Pause. He unties it, replaces the
cans on the shelves and hangs the sack back up on the wall, stroking it
a moment. He shuffles over towards the back room, smiling, but stops as
he gets there, coughing heavily, his hand to his mouth. After the
coughing stops he takes his hand away and looks down at it for a
moment. Its covered in blood. Billy loses his smile, turns the oil lamp
down and exits to the back room. Fade to black.


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