by Peter Barnes
Claire Any minute now. (Moving upstage). Your flower’s wilting, my dear.
Grace (waving it cheerfully) Can’t be. It’s wax.
Claire Careful your husband-to-be doesn’t eat it for breakfast.
She exits.
Grace You’re right, Charlie Boy. She’s an ice-cold biddy.
Sir Charles Too clever by half, that woman. But I get things done my way. She doesn’t know what she wants.
Grace But I do, Charlie Boy. Lady Grace, Lady Grace Gurney, the Countess of Gurney.
Sir Charles Now look here, Grace, you mustn’t call me Charlie Boy. We have to be careful.
Grace If that’s what you want.
Sir Charles It’s not what I want. It’s what has to be. I’m very fond of you, m’dear, you know that.
Grace You’ve a funny way of showing it. First you push me into the arms of your half-dead half-brother, and then on to his looney son.
Sir Charles I’d make any sacrifice for the sake of the family. You sure you can handle the situation? Tricky an’ all, marrying a man who thinks he’s God.
Grace It happens all the time. (Crossing to French windows.) On certain nights. In front of the right audience. When the magic works. I’ve known what it’s like to be a God too. (Sees someone outside.) Ah, there he is on the lawn. Let’s get the show on the road. Damn, where’s my lousy camelia?
Sir Charles hands it to her, she hitches up her dress.
Grace I’ll be glad to get out of this clobber. (Pats bare bosom.) No wonder she was dying of consumption. (Coughs hoarsely.)
Sir Charles Careful now.
Grace Trust me, Charlie B – Charles. I’ve got too much at stake to blow it.
Holding the camelia modestly across her chest, and smiling wanly, she glides out. Sir Charles looks at the audience.
Sir Charles Damned plucky filly.
Dinsdale enters upstage centre.
Dinsdale Gurney I say, Mother’s just told me this Lady-of-the-Camelia woman’s a fake. I know J.C.’s as batty as a moorhen, sir, but this isn’t playing the game.
Sir Charles Game? What game? It’s no game, sir! This is real.
Blackout.
Scene Nine
Footlights up immediately. A metal sun lowered from flies. The Earl, lying downstage right, rouses himself as Grace enters wings left.
Earl of Gurney My dreams made flesh or a reasonable facsimile thereforeto. (Gets up, bows politely.) Eh – bien, comment allez-vous, madame?
Grace Sorry, I don’t speak French.
Earl of Gurney German? Italian? Albanian? Yiddish?
Grace No. English.
Earl of Gurney English. Why didn’t you say so before? Nothing to be ashamed of, hard language to master. But we can’t play this love scene with mere words, be they English, Japanese or Serbo-Croat.
Grace Love scene? What now?
Earl of Gurney Love isn’t just for one season. (Smiles, flapping arms like a bird). Hweet, hweep.
Grace Hweet?
Earl of Gurney (arms quivering) Tsiff-tsiff-tsiff. (Hopping). Chiff-chaff-chaff-chaff.
Grace (laughing) Oh, well. (Flaps arms.) Chiff-chaff.
They circle round each other with tiny bird movements, Grace bending forward and hopping, the Earl bobbing his head and making low loping sweeps.
Earl of Gurney (long drawn-out, high-pitched) Pioo – pioo – pioo.
Grace Cuckoo!
Earl of Gurney (crescendo) Pioo.
Grace (breathless) I’ll bet even Ludovic Koch wasn’t made love to with bird cries.
Earl of Gurney What else would you like? The Grand Canyon? A musical teacup? A hundred pre-sold holy wafers? A disused banana factory? Absolution?
Grace A white wedding.
Earl of Gurney Will next Tuesday suit you?
Grace You deserve a big kiss.
Earl of Gurney Not here in the garden. Last time I was kissed in a garden – it turned out rather awkward.
Grace Ah, but Judas was a man.
Earl of Gurney (nodding) Hmm, yes, a strange business.
Grace laughs.
Earl of Gurney Who are you?
Grace A woman.
Earl of Gurney Descended from Eve.
Grace No, a doorstep. I’m an orphan.
Earl of Gurney Then we’ll be orphans together, Marguerite.
Grace Call me Grace, as I don’t speak French.
Earl of Gurney A good name. It means a gift of faith.
Grace Which is what I have in you. I’m holding you to that wedding.
Earl of Gurney Hold hard. You’ll be my Queen of Queens.
Grace I’ll be satisfied with Lady Gurney.
Earl of Gurney (takes her hands) And I say unto you, thou shall love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all thy mind.
Grace I do.
Earl of Gurney I want to show you the bottom drawer or my soul. (Suddenly joyful.) Oh, but I’m happy, I’m the sunshine-man, the driver of the gravy-train, chu-chu-chu.
Grace laughs.
Earl of Gurney It’s all so simple, for me. Paradise is just a smiling face. What’s it for you?
Grace Me? Paradise? Oh, a fireplace. A cosy room.
Earl of Gurney (nodding) A little nest . . .
Hand in hand they go into a dance routine to wings right.
Grace (singing) ‘That nestles where the roses bloom.’
Earl of Gurney (singing; indicating partner) ‘Sweet Gracey and me . . . ’
Grace (singing: looking at him) ‘And a baby makes three.’
Grace and Earl of Gurney (singing) ‘We’re going to our blue heaven.’
Grace kisses him, exits wings right. The Earl takes out a pocket telescope, opens it out and stares after her as Dinsdale enters sulkily.
Dinsdale Gurney What are you looking at?
Earl of Gurney (handing him telescope) Beauty in motion.
Dinsdale Gurney (looking) I can’t see a thing.
Earl of Gurney Because you’re not looking with the eyes of love.
Dinsdale Gurney Hang it all, whatever else you are, you’re still a Gurney. That Camelia woman’s really Grace Shelley. Close friend of my father’s. He’s put her up to it.
The Earl stops humming.
Dinsdale Gurney Got her to dress like that. Absolutely ridiculous.
The Earl shivers with cold.
Dinsdale Gurney He wants you married off.
The Earl puts his hand to his face; when he takes it away his features are covered with white make-up.
Dinsdale Gurney Mother’s in it too. Shouldn’t be surprised if even old Tuck knew. Everybody but me.
Earl of Gurney (shrinking miserably) Stop! You’re making me a crippled dwarf, a deformed midget, a crippled newt!
Dinsdale Gurney (sees the Earl with bent knees, now half-size) What’re you doing?
Stage lights up.
Earl of Gurney It’s your negative insinuendo.
Dinsdale Gurney Insinuendo?
Earl of Gurney (making circle with right hand) Insinuendo is insinuation towards innuendo, brought on by increased negativism out of a negative reaction to your father’s positivism.
Takes out glasses, breaks them, puts half frame over one eye, peers up at Dinsdale.
Earl of Gurney Your negativism is fully charged. I see by the Habeas Corpus parchment round your neck.
Dinsdale Gurney I don’t know what the devil you’re on about, but I resent your attitude. I only told you about Grace Shelley . . .
Earl of Gurney (tearing off his jacket and shirt) She’s my Righteous-ldeal-Planned-Wife. Don’t forget, besides being God, Christ and the Holy Ghost, I’m also a San D., B.F.C. and D.A.C. – Doctor of Sanitation, Bachelor of Family Life, and Doctor of Air Conditioning. Please remember that you’re dealing with the Big One. I’ve told aged Tucker. Injecting me with his Kremlin-plot negative-microbes. I said verbatim. Feeling persecuted is paranoid schizophrenia-wretches. Dr H. suffered from it. But watched they said against me . . .
one of the signs. Many poor ‘erders’ Dancing Academy. I am being EVERYBODY they CRIED . . . whrr! rr! . . . rrr! Krr-krr-krek!
He scuttles absurdly upstage and clambers on to the cross. On the back of his vest are painted the words ‘God is Love’. Dinsdale exits as the Earl clings to the cross, his painful, metallic cries growing louder and louder. The lights dim down. The cries stop abruptly.
Scene Ten
Lights up as Bishop Lampton and Sir Charles enter upstage centre, glancing with distaste at the Earl, stretched out on the cross.
Bishop Lampton I will not solemnise any marriage, even of my own nephew, during the period from Advent Sunday till eight days after Epiphany. So it must be on Tuesday the 12th. Eight a.m. Private chapel. Ordinary licence. But I have grave misgivings, Charles. Grave misgivings.
Sir Charles Misgivings? About Jack?
Bishop Lampton No, about the bride, Miss Shelley. Who is she? What is she? I fear she may be using this marriage merely to advance her social position. I hear she’s an ‘entertainer’.
Sir Charles I’ll vouch for Grace Shelley.
Bishop Lampton No doubt. I hear she’s a most handsome woman. I venture you’ve been dazzled by her charms. ‘A woman whose heart is snares and nets.’ I, however, due to my cloth – and age – can take a more dispassionate view of her character and motives.
Sir Charles Dash it all, Bertie, you know the position. We can’t be fussy. Grace – Miss Shelley – is the best we can come up with. This is a crisis.
Bishop Lampton Even so, we shouldn’t be too hasty. God in his infinite wisdom has clouded our nephew’s senses. But it can only be temporary. I take it as a sure sign of hope that his delusions are at least of a religious nature. Consider the consequences of this mis-mating, Charles. When he recovers, he’ll find himself married to a woman who is frankly not suitable. And he will recover. God is merciful.
Sir Charles Can’t wait on God’s mercy, Bertie, everything’s going to pot. Dr Herder agrees.
Bishop Lampton Dr Herder? ‘Herder’? Is he English?
Sir Charles No.
Bishop Lampton Ahh . . .
Sir Charles Mark my words, this’ll be the making of Jack.
Bishop Lampton It’s true, there’s nothing like marriage to bring a fella to his senses.
They exit upstage as spot up downstage left on Dr Herder and Claire standing in front of a white backing lowered from the flies. A couch to left.
Claire My husband’s an idiot.
Dr Herder I’ve no idea what he’s playing at, and it’s not strictly my concern. The Earl’s no longer under my care. But that charade with Miss Shelley made me feel an absolute fool, and I don’t care to underestimate myself.
Claire I apologise. Charles has some idea Jack might accept her if she dressed up as the Lady of the Camelias.
Dr Herder Sometimes it’s very easy to forget that outside this comedy Sir Charles occupies a position of responsibility and power. I just learned he’s on the Board of the Guggenheim Research Foundation. Extraordinary.
Claire Ah, yes, he mentioned you were asking for a grant. You won’t have any trouble.
Dr Herder It’s only a nominal 130,000. For the study of paranoid schizophrenic rats.
Claire Sounds fascinating.
Dr Herder I should have said electrically controlled paranoid rats.
Claire Electrically?
Dr Herder We insert very fine silver wires into the rat’s mid-brain. The rat’s behaviour is controlled by the strength of the current passed through them. By pressing a button and stimulating one area in its mid-brain, the rat is made to feel threatened. It attacks any rat in sight. There’s really no threat, but the mid-brain can’t tell the difference. Roughly the same thing happens with a human paranoid. No silver wires, but an unknown area of his brain is stimulated, and he feels threatened without cause. Naturally, men aren’t rats.
Claire Only a man would say so.
Dr Herder (smiling) I’m speaking biologically. Eventually we’ll have to conduct similar experiments on the human brain.
Claire Today rats. Tomorrow the world. Who will you wire for visions?
Dr Herder First of all myself, naturally.
Claire (taking off glove) I see. Then if I press a button, you’d limp for me, feel fear and love?
Dr Herder Love? No. Desire, yes.
Claire By pressing a button? (Raises finger and mimes pressing.)
Dr Herder (covers her hand) Not too hard. I might get over-stimulated and lose control.
Claire You, lose control? Think of the risk, Doctor.
Dr Herder There’s only one commandment a doctor need ever worry about. ‘Thou shalt not advertise.’
He kisses Claire’s hand. Spot out.
Scene Eleven
Lights up. The Earl stops jerking on the cross.
Earl of Gurney My heart rises with the sun. I’m purged of doubts and negative innuendos. Today I want to bless everything! Bless the crawfish that has a scuttling walk, bless the trout, the pilchard and periwinkle. Bless Ted Smoothey of 22 East Hackney Road – with a name like that he needs blessing. Bless the mealy-redpole, the black-gloved wallaby and W.C. Fields, who’s dead but lives on. Bless the skunk, bless the red-bellied lemur, bless ‘Judo’ Al Hayes and Ski-Hi-Lee. Bless the snotty-nosed giraffe, bless the buffalo, bless the Society of Women Engineers, bless the wild yak, bless the Piccadilly Match King, bless the pygmy hippo, bless the weasel, bless the mighty cockroach, bless me. Today’s my wedding day!
Wedding bells peal out.
Scene Twelve
Screen lowered immediately downstage centre, cutting out the cross from view. On it, a photo-collage of society weddings. Bishop Lampton enters imposingly, wings right, in full regalia, followed by Claire and Dinsdale. Tucker hobbles in from wings left. They cross slowly downstage centre. With Claire and Dinsdale on his right, and Tucker on his left, Lampton turns and faces the audience.
The bells stop ringing. An organ plays ‘The Wedding March’ as Grace in a white wedding dress and an apprehensive Sir Charles enter wings right. They all wait for the groom. The Earl scampers in wings right in a cut-away jacket, no shirt and broken glasses and flute hanging from his chest. Bishop Lampton shudders.
Bishop Lampton (reading from prayer book) ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God – ’
The Earl clasps his hands above his head and shakes them triumphantly.
Bishop Lampton ‘ – and in the face of this company to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony, which is an honourable estate.’
Earl of Gurney Instituted by me in the time of man’s innocence.
Grace puts her fingers to his lips.
Bishop Lampton (looking up warningly) ‘Therefore if anyone can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.’
Claire, Dinsdale and Sir Charles stare deliberately at the audience. Silence.
Tucker Load o’ British jelly-meat whiskers! Stand up on your tea-soaked haunches and stop it. Piddling, half-dead helots.
Sir Charles Quiet, man. Show some respect.
Tucker I’m always respectful. ’S what I’m paid for. No one can say I’m not respectful. (Removes his false teeth.) There.
Bishop Lampton ‘I require and charge you both that if either of you have any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony ye do now confess it.’
Earl of Gurney Yes, I’m afraid I do know an impediment.
His family glance anxiously at each other.
Claire It’s only a rhetorical question, like all the others in the wedding service.
Earl of Gurney ’Tis no good glossing o’er the facts. Certain R.C. knackers think I’m already married to the Virgin Mary.
Sir Charles We’re not concerned with what other people think.
Bishop Lampton Especially not Roman Catholics. ‘Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after G
od’s ordinance in the holy state of matrimony? Wilt thou love her . . . ?’
Earl of Gurney From the bottom of my soul to the tip of my penis, like the sun in its brightness, the moon in its beauty, the heavens in their emptiness, streams in their gentleness, no breeze stirs that doesn’t bear my love.
Bishop Lampton Blasphemous . . . !
Grace But will you love me?
Earl of Gurney I will.
Bishop Lampton (quickly, to Grace) ‘Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance?’
Grace I will.
Bishop Lampton Who gives this woman to this man?
Sir Charles I do.
Bishop Lampton (to Earl) Repeat after me. I, J.C., take thee Grace Shelley to my wedded wife . . .
Earl of Gurney I, J.C. the Holy Flying Roller, the Morning Star, known to his intimates as the Naz, take thee Marguerite, called Grace Shelley because she doesn’t speak French.
Bishop Lampton shudders and plunges on.
Bishop Lampton (to Grace) Repeat after me.
Grace I know the lines. I, Grace Shelley, take thee J.C. to my wedded husband to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance and thereto I give thee my troth.
Sir Charles steps forward with the ring and hurriedly puts it on Grace’s finger.
Bishop Lampton (with increasing speed) ‘For as much as these two persons have consented together in holy wedlock, I pronounce that they be man and wife together. In-the-name-of-the-Father-and-of-the-Son-and-of-the-Holy-Ghost-whom-God-hath-joined-together-let-no-man-put-asunder . . . ’ (One last effort.) Lord have mercy upon us!
