Alan Moore - Jerusalem

JOHN CLARE: We talked about that earlier, and we thought purgatory to be the greater likelihood. Not that I’m claiming any great authority upon the subject. [ A pause .] You can’t hear me. What’s the point of any of it? [ Along with the HUSBAND and WIFE, CLARE lapses into a gloomy silence. After a few moments a HALF-CASTE WOMAN ENTERS STAGE LEFT beneath the portico. After a few steps she stops and appraises the scene, looking first at the couple on the steps and then at JOHN CLARE sitting in his alcove .]

WOMAN: You’re the poet, ain’t yer? You’re John Clare.

JOHN CLARE: [ Surprised .] I am? You’re sure of it? Not Byron or King William?

WOMAN: [ Kindly and sympathetically .] No, love. You’re John Clare. From what I heard, it’s just you get a bit mixed up from time to time.

JOHN CLARE: That’s true. I do. And you don’t find it off-putting?

WOMAN: No. To be honest, darling, when I heard about you, I thought that you sounded like a laugh. And some of what you wrote, it’s lovely. Is that true, about you walking eighty miles back here after you’d legged it from a nut house down in Essex?

JOHN CLARE: Nut house?

WOMAN: Yeah, you know. The funny farm. Napoleon factory. Laughing academy. The loony bin.

JOHN CLARE: [ Laughing, amused and delighted .] Oh, you mean the coney hatch. You should have said. Yes, that was where I was. You seem to know a lot about me.

WOMAN: Oh, I know about all sorts of things. You know, it’s really nice to meet you, Mr. Clare. I’m well pleased.

JOHN CLARE: Well, it’s mutual. What’s your name, lass?

WOMAN: Everybody calls me Kaph.

JOHN CLARE: Kath?

WOMAN: Kaph. K-A-P-H. It’s got a P in it.

JOHN CLARE: That’s an unusual name, all right. And which parts of Northampton and eternity would you be from?

WOMAN: Spring Boroughs, 1988 to 2060. Mostly I worked down at the Saint Peter’s annexe, next door to the church, trying to sort out all the refugees come from the east.

JOHN CLARE: The east of India?

WOMAN: Of Anglia. Yarmouth and round there. We get a fair bit of trouble with the weather in the time I’m from.

JOHN CLARE: Aye, well, ’twas ever thus in England.

WOMAN: No it wasn’t, sweetheart. Trust me. Not like this it wasn’t. It’s all falling in the sea, love, and when you’ve got all the people moving then they bring their problems with them, and their problems are all that much worse. Drugs and diseases, violence and abuse and all the mental problems that come with ’em. When I was down at the annexe I come up with an idea for processing — that means, like, sorting out — big crowds of people who were caught up in emergencies. It wasn’t anything that clever. It was just this questionnaire, done as an app, and it was only common sense from what I’d seen while I was working with the refugees. Anyway, it got took up across the world and saved a lot of lives, apparently.

JOHN CLARE: I am ashamed to say I do not have the first idea of what I have been told just now. The gist I caught was that you are a woman of unusual intelligence and merit, but being the fool I am I got caught up in looking at your bosom and so may have missed the greater part of it. Please don’t think badly of me.

WOMAN: [ Laughing .] Oh, you’re all right. You’re John Clare. It’s quite an honour you should make the effort to look at me boobs.

JOHN CLARE: You are a kind woman, I think, and a robust one of a cheery humour. I should pay you the respect of listening to what you say. Please tell it to me all again, and be sure that I look you in the eye.

WOMAN: Ah, you’re a legend. You’re just how I thought you would be from the poetry. I’m not saying I’ve not read a lot of them but there were some of ’em that made me cry. As for me, there wasn’t that much more to tell. The business with the questionnaire meant that I ended up getting a lot more notice than I’d ever wanted or deserved. They started calling me a saint, but to be honest I found that a bit depressing. Like I say, it wasn’t anything I’d ever wanted.

JOHN CLARE: You’re a saint, then?

WOMAN: Not a proper one. Just in the papers. They’ll make anyone a saint. I tried not to have anything to do with it.

JOHN CLARE: We had a real one pass by just now on this very spot. Thomas á Becket.

WOMAN: Really?

JOHN CLARE: Else I dreamed it.

WOMAN: He’s well famous, Thomas Becket.

JOHN CLARE: Aye, he’s famous for a well, all right. We talked about it. He was passing by this spot because he did so on his way to condemnation at the castle. Then the other Mr. Beckett, he was here revisiting the churches of Northampton as he’d done upon a previous occasion, whereas Mr. Bunyan passed through on his way to hear a proclamation in the market. As for me, this is the place I always sat, so that’s the explanation for my presence, but what of yourself? Do you consider yourself to be dead or dreaming, and in either case what brings you here?

WOMAN: Oh, I’m dead. There’s no doubt about it. I got caught up in a water riot when it was getting bad in twenty-sixty and me ticker couldn’t handle it, not in me seventies.

JOHN CLARE: You don’t look seventy.

WOMAN: Well, ta. This is me in me thirties, when I looked me best. To be quite honest, any younger and I was a mess, and I got a bit scrawny after I was knocking on a bit. As for the reason why I’m here, it’s them. [ The HALF-CASTE WOMAN nods towards the couple on the steps. ]

JOHN CLARE: You know them, then?

WOMAN: Oh, yeah. Well, not in life I never met ’em, no, but I know all about ’em. Him, the bloke, that’s Johnny Vernall and the woman’s his wife Celia. This is the night their daughter locked them out the house in Freeschool Street and they came here and sat beneath the portico until the morning. What it was, I knew their daughter, Audrey.

JOHN CLARE: Ah, yes. That would be the one the things were done to. I was trying to fathom it with all the other ghosts that were here earlier. It sounded like a miserable business.

WOMAN: Oh, it was. It was. But then, I suppose it had to be.

JOHN CLARE: How did you know her, the poor child?

WOMAN: Well, she was an old woman when I met her. It was one night back when I was young, and when I was in trouble, and she saved me life. She was the most frightening, amazing person that I’ve ever seen, and that night turned everything round for me. If what I went on to do later helped a lot of people, it was all because of her. If she’d not helped me, I’d have been dead and then none of that, the questionnaire, none of that would have happened. She’s the real saint, Audrey. She’s the martyr, and this is the night before they took her to the stake. And that’s the reason why I’m here. After what Audrey done for me, I thought that it was only right. I thought that it was only right that I should come and see, and be a witness.

JOHN CLARE: If there is a poetry to all of this, it seems as though hurt women are a central matter. [ A pause .] But where are my manners! I’ve got a young lady stood here all this time and never offered her a seat!

WOMAN: [ She laughs, starting to walk towards JOHN CLARE ’s alcove .] Oh, well, that’s very nice. I –

JOHN CLARE: [ Slightly alarmed, fearing she’s misunderstood him .] No, not this one. This is mine. The one there on the other side is what I keep for visitors. I’m told it’s very comfortable.

WOMAN: [ Surprised, but more amused than offended .] Oh, right. Okay, then. Over here, yeah? [ She goes and sits in the alcove to STAGE LEFT of the door .] Mm. You’re right. It’s very nice. Nice place to sit.