The Winterling by Jez Butterworth

The Winterling by Jez Butterworth

Author:Jez Butterworth
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nick Hern Books


ACT TWO

The dead of winter. The previous year.

The farmhouse is even more desolate and derelict. Many floorboards are broken. Someone has had a bonfire in the middle of the room. Rats dart about.

WEST stands motionless to one side. He is filthy, cold, as if he has been sleeping rough for months.

Enter DRAYCOTT from the back.

DRAYCOTT. It’s just like I said, mister. You’re a lucky man.

Pause. DRAYCOTT removes something wrapped in greaseproof paper from his pocket. He unwraps it.

I’ve been over Chagford. They love me at that butcher’s. Sniff that. Get the beauty of it. That’s fresh killed, that is. That was snuffling around only this morning. You had heart? He’s good gear. Good for the blood. And the other. I don’t mind sharing. And you look like you could use a feed. So what do you say? Are you in? (Breaks sachets of salt and pepper.)

WEST. Thank you.

DRAYCOTT. Pig’s the best. And this is fresh. You won’t get finer in Buckingham Palace. I’ve cooked all over the West Country. Pubs. Rugby clubs. Newton Abbot Racecourse. I once cooked for eighty-six estate agents. A good fresh piece, get the pan hot. Onions, carrot, bit of butter. You wouldn’t have an onion on your person, have you?

WEST. No.

DRAYCOTT. A carrot?

WEST. No.

DRAYCOTT. Butter? (Beat.) Not to worry. (Spits in the pan, tosses the hearts in, whole.) Oh yes, you’re very lucky I was in. I’m usually out, on my rounds. Mr Darling kills on Mondays. So, I’m in there early, acting the nag. Jabber away, touch the meat, pick up the knives. They get jumpy, Hey Preston, they bung me a trotter. A piece of liver. A heart or two just to piss off. I pop up all over. Princetown. Two Bridges. Dartmeet. Fruit shops are good. There’s a baker in Ashburton who’ll pay me two quid just to fuck off. Newsagents. Walk in. Start gibbering. End of the world. That’s a Yorkie. Couple bags of crisps. Just once a fortnight, mind. You can’t take the piss. But the baker’s a soft touch. Try it. Be my guest. You got to time it, see. Watch for a hour or two, wait till they’re chocker, lunchtime’s good, right when they’re rushed off their feet, then bundle in, start licking the walls. Works every time. But don’t go in Darling’s. That’s mine. You hear? I don’t want to hear you’ve been in Darling’s. I hear you’ve been bothering Mr Darling, I’ll be on the warpath. I’m serious. You set foot near the place, I’ll have your guts. In fact I’ve made a decision. It’s best you steer clear of Chagford altogether. Stay back. They know me over there. (Beat.) Here. Do you know what I thought when I saw you? Can I? I said to myself, there is a capital man. He’s from up there. The capital. A mile off. They stand different, Londoners. He’s seen it. He’s been around it. He’s been in airports all over the world. You wouldn’t think to look at him, but I can see it.



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