The Dresser Page #3

end like this.

I've always thought

he was indestructible.

All the years we've been together.

Feels like a lifetime.

Even longer, he and I.

It'll be the first time

we've ever cancelled.

Look, I want to go to the hospital.

No, Norman.

I want to sit with him,

be with him

and try to give him some comfort.

I can usually make him smile.

Maybe when he sees me...

They wouldn't even let me stay.

I wish I could remember the name of

the girl who got me into all this.

Motherly type, she was,

small parts, play as cast.

I can see her face clearly.

I can see her standing there,

on platform two at Crewe,

a Sunday, I was on platform four.

" Norman," she called.

We'd been together in Outward Bound,

the number three tour,

helped with the wardrobe I did, and

understudied Scrubby, the steward.

That's all aboard a ship, you know.

It's a lovely first act.

"We're all dead, aren't we?"

And I say, "Yes, sir,

we're all dead. Quite dead. "

And he says, "How long have you

been... you been...? Oh, you know. "

"Me? Oh, I was lost young. "

And then he says,

"Where... where are we sailing for?"

And I say, "Heaven, sir.

And hell, too.

"It's the same place, you see. "

Lovely. Well,

to cut a short story shorter,

Sir wanted help in the wardrobe

and someone to assist generally

but, mainly, with the storm in Lear.

I've told you this before,

haven't I?

Put me on the timpani, he did.

And on the first night, after

the storm, while he was waiting

to go on for, "No, they cannot touch

me for coining", he called me over.

My knees were jelly.

"Were you on the timpani tonight?"

I said, "Yes, sir," fearing

the worst. "Thank you," he said.

"You are an artist. "

My father was exactly the same.

Always exaggerated his illnesses.

That's why I thought it was not

very serious, I thought...

Any further developments?

We had better see

the theatre manager.

Perhaps you ought to come with me.

Oh, no, Your Ladyship, please,

let's take our time,

let's not rush things.

There's no alternative.

Madge is right, we can't play

King Lear without the King.

We have to make a decision.

Forgive me, Your Ladyship, it's not

a decision you have to make,

it's the right decision.

I had a friend, in a very low state,

he was, ever so fragile,

a pain to be with.

You weren't safe from him

on top of a bus.

If he happened to sit beside you,

he'd tell you the ABC of unhappiness

between request stops.

Someone close to him, his mother,

I believe,

although it was never proved,

understandably upset,

made a decision.

"A little rest", she said,

"with others similarly off-centre,

"in Colwyn Bay", never a good date,

not in February,

wrapped in a grey rug,

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