Note by Antonia Fraser: This was written in 1976, immediately following productions of No Man's Land in the UK and the US; it is thus dominated by references to that play, as will be obvious to readers of The Pinter Review. Harold found it again the other day and it made him laugh a lot. He encouraged me to send it to you.

Hirst comes home to Hampstead. He has been away on a long trip with Briggs and Foster. The idea was to recover from the unpleasant Spooner episode, at least that was what was said at the time by Briggs and Foster. But the truth was that Hirst's liver function test was not all it might have been. And Briggs also wanted to see Siam (or Bali) for himself, checking up on Foster. While Foster of course is never averse to visitng old haunts, it is not clear now what has happened to Briggs and Foster: Hirst arrives back alone. They may (or may not) have died, dropped off in Amsterdam on an art appreciation course or whatever.

Anyway Hirst returns home alone, and how he longs to settle down in his familiar chair, for a familiar drink. However in his absence a mysterious woman called Ruth appears to have moved in. Ruth is (or is not) to be identified with another rather mysterious woman called Stella, for whom a man called James is searching. Just as James tends (only tends) to treat Hirst as a character called Harry who may (or may not) know where the missing Stella is. If Stella is not Ruth, that is.

What is quite clear is that James is not to be identified with another man present called Richard, also looking for his wife, Sarah. On the other hand it seems more than possible that Sarah has been acting as Stella in her spare time, of which she appears to have a great deal, because when James and Richard come to compare notes about their respective wives, some at least of their habits are similar. In struggle for male dominance which follows between James and Richard, they sing snatches of old songs over Ruth's head, without actually alluding to her in anyway.

Which is just as well, because Ruth is quite busy on her own account with a man called Deeley who has put his head in her lap and is quietly crying. Not about Ruth, but about a missing couple called Kate and Anna, who sound from his description nothing but trouble. Ruth remains mysterious if comforting, and she certainly seems to be more of a homebody than either Stella or Sarah. (As described by their husbands).

It is absurd of Hirst to make so much fuss about the changes Ruth has made in the house. She has kept it beautifully, and her domestic staff is evidently both larger and more efficient than that of Hirst, as represented by the late (?) Briggs and Foster. There's a fellow called Davies whose role around the house is not quite clear, but he assures Hirst he is responsible for the new decorations. Hirst is frankly muddled by Davies' presence, and tries his old gambit for tricky situations, 'My dear Charles'. This ferociously rejected by Davies. Rebuffed, Hirst suggests wistfully that Davies may actually be a poet, may know a pub at Chalk Farm called the Bull's Head. Davies makes it clear however that his geographical affiliations are with South London.

Anyway Hirst is clearly hopeless about names. He identifies a nice bright young fellow called Lenny, who is helping to run things for Ruth, with the missing Foster. It must be said that Lenny, like Davies, does not take too well to this mistake. Gets quite angry about it. Says that his father would know what to do about Hirst. Is it possible that Davies is Lenny's father? He certainly seems ferocious enough.

Hirst backs away. He needs drink, liver function test or no liver function test.

As for the third servant present, a woman of a certain age called Beth, she seems to be living in a sort of catatonic trance. Also she has imported a kitchen chair into Hirst's study, a chair from which she never moves. It's also disconcerting when she greets Hirst with the words: 'O my true love'. Hirst has been highly nervous of women since Spooner's revelations about an old friend of his called Arabella Hinscott. Hirst does not want to get closer to women than he need after what Spooner has told him. He prefers the sound of Meg, working in the kitchen: breakfast foods are said to be her speciality. Luckily the Beth point is cleared up. She is apt to greet men like this, does not expect an answer. Really the best thing would be if Deeley would transfer his weeping head to her lap. Ruth has got things to do. But life is not always that simple...

And even Hirst's beloved garden where once the birds sang (as they had not sung since childhood) is no longer quite what it was. There's an odd sort of shed at the bottom of it, where two men live who look like brothers: Davies merely says they're out of his past. While at the garden gate he watches a man watching the house. Which is odd, if, as somebody suggests, the man is actually blind. Hirst decides that he may or may not be blind but he is certainly black. He hopes he won't come inside the room.

Yes, Hirst definitely needs a drink. Particularly when both James and Richard also refuse to play his favourite game of - 'My dear Charles'. A couple of bastards, says Davies, and for once Hirst has to agree with him. James is busily cross-examining Lenny about a night he once spent in a hotel in Leeds, whereas surely any fool can see that Lenny has never been any further north than Hampstead. Richard, on the other hand, has become rather withdrawn, apart from criticising Ruth's clothes. Which he seems to find inappropriate to the occasion. Whatever it is.

'But this is supposed to be my dear No Man's Land' thinks Hirst in despair. 'Icy and silent. Also nothing was supposed to be changed while I was away, not even a subject, which as far as I can remember was winter'. So what are all these unpleasant, hostile people doing here, intruding into his room, his territories, strangers, menacing. There's even talk of them holding a birthday party later. A party - for whom? In Hirst's study! And two men who may drop in are called McCann and Goldberg. Perhaps they will turn out to be Briggs and Foster? But you can't count on anything these days.

Yes, Hirst really needs a drink. Hirst advances hopefully towards the drinks table.

'As it is!' He exclaims with joy.

Alas, Ruth blocks the way menacing, uncrossing her black stockinged legs in a way that no woman has done to Hirst since Emily Spooner.

'Absolutely as it is,' she replies. Leaving no doubt of her intentions.

'Do you know what happens when the lights go out?' enquires Lenny, suiting the action to the words. Once again, poor Hirst knows only too well what is expected of him. Despairing, he makes one of his clever falls, which have saved him from many a tight situation, and starts to crawl toward the drinks table.

'Tackle me,' hisses Ruth. In the dark her voice rather reminds Hirst of that terrible little secretary Wendy, who got his friend Disson into such trouble.

'I'll drink to that,' cries Hirst, crawling on.

But his way to the drinks table is for every blocked. By a pair of high heels. Warm. Silent. Waiting.

From The Pinter Review: Annual Essays 1990 University of Tampa pp71-73