by Tom Stoppard
Hannah (tactfully) Very possible – persuasive, indeed.
Bernard Oh, bugger persuasive! I’ve proved Byron was here and as far as I’m concerned he wrote those lines as sure as he shot that hare. If only I hadn’t somehow … made it all about killing Chater. Why didn’t you stop me?! It’s bound to get out, you know – I mean this – this gloss on my discovery – I mean how long do you think it’ll be before some botanical pedant blows the whistle on me?
Hannah The day after tomorrow. A letter in The Times.
Bernard You wouldn’t.
Hannah It’s a dirty job but somebody –
Bernard Darling. Sorry. Hannah –
Hannah – and, after all, it is my discovery.
Bernard Hannah.
Hannah Bernard.
Bernard Hannah.
Hannah Oh, shut up. It’ll be very short, very dry, absolutely gloat-free. Would you rather it were one of your friends?
Bernard (fervently) Oh God, no!
Hannah And then in your letter to The Times –
Bernard Mine?
Hannah Well, of course. Dignified congratulations to a colleague, in the language of scholars, I trust.
Bernard Oh, eat shit, you mean?
Hannah Think of it as a breakthrough in dahlia studies.
Chloë hurries in from the garden.
Chloë Why aren’t you coming?! – Bernard! And you’re not dressed! How long have you been back?
Bernard looks at her and then at Valentine and realizes for the first time that Valentine is unusually dressed.
Bernard Why are you wearing those clothes?
Chloë Do be quick! (She is already digging into the basket and producing odd garments for Bernard.) Just put anything on. We’re all being photographed. Except Hannah.
Hannah I’ll come and watch.
Valentine and Chloë help Bernard into a decorative coat and fix a lace collar round his neck.
Chloë (to Hannah) Mummy says have you got the theodolite?
Valentine What are you supposed to be, Chloë? Bo-Peep?
Chloë Jane Austen!
Valentine Of course.
Hannah (to Chloë) Oh – it’s in the hermitage! Sorry.
Bernard I thought it wasn’t till this evening. What photograph?
Chloë The local paper of course – they always come before we start. We want a good crowd of us – Gus looks gorgeous –
Bernard (aghast) The newspaper!
He grabs something like a bishop’s mitre from the basket and pulls it down completely over his face.
(Muffled) I’m ready!
And he staggers out with Valentine and Chloë, followed by Hannah.
A light change to evening. The paper lanterns outside begin to glow. Piano music from the next room.
Septimus enters with an oil lamp. He carries Thomasina’s algebra primer, and also her essay on loose sheets. He settles down to read at the table. It is nearly dark outside, despite the lanterns.
Thomasina enters, in a nightgown and barefoot, holding a candlestick. Her manner is secretive and excited.
Septimus My lady! What is it?
Thomasina Septimus! Shush! (She closes the door quietly.) Now is our chance!
Septimus For what, dear God?
She blows out the candle and puts the candlestick on the table.
Thomasina Do not act the innocent! Tomorrow I will be seventeen! (She kisses Septimus full on the mouth.) There!
Septimus Dear Christ!
Thomasina Now you must show me, you are paid in advance.
Septimus (understanding) Oh!
Thomasina The Count plays for us, it is God-given! I cannot be seventeen and not waltz.
Septimus But your mother –
Thomasina While she swoons, we can dance. The house is all abed. I heard the Broadwood. Oh, Septimus, teach me now!
Septimus Hush! I cannot now!
ThomasinaIndeed you can, and I am come barefoot so mind my toes.
Septimus I cannot because it is not a waltz.
Thomasina It is not?
Septimus No, it is too slow for waltzing.
Thomasina Oh! Then we will wait for him to play quickly.
Septimus My lady –
Thomasina Mr Hodge! (She takes a chair next to him and looks at his work.) Are you reading my essay? Why do you work here so late?
Septimus To save my candles.
Thomasina You have my old primer.
Septimus It is mine again. You should not have written in it.
She takes it, looks at the open page.
Thomasina It was a joke.
Septimus It will make me mad as you promised. Sit over there. You will have us in disgrace.
Thomasina gets up and goes to the furthest chair.
Thomasina If mama comes I will tell her we only met to kiss, not to waltz.
Septimus Silence or bed.
Thomasina Silence!
Septimus pours himself some more wine. He continues to read her essay.
The music changes to party music from the marquee. And there are fireworks – small against the sky, distant flares of light like exploding meteors.
Hannah enters. She has dressed for the party. The difference is not, however, dramatic. She closes the door and crosses to leave by the garden door. But as she gets there, Valentine is entering. He has a glass of wine in his hand.
Hannah Oh …
But Valentine merely brushes past her, intent on something, and half-drunk.
Valentine (to her) Got it!
He goes straight to the table and roots about in what is now a considerable mess of papers, books and objects. Hannah turns back, puzzled by his manner. He finds what he has been looking for – the ‘diagram’.
Meanwhile, Septimus reading Thomasina’s essay, also studies the diagram.
Septimus and Valentine study the diagram doubled by time.
It’s heat.
Hannah Are you tight, Val?
Valentine It’s a diagram of heat exchange.
Septimus So, we are all doomed!
Thomasina (cheerfully) Yes.
Valentine Like a steam engine, you see –
Hannah fills Septimus’s glass from the same decanter, and sips from it.
She didn’t have the maths, not remotely. She saw what things meant, way ahead, like seeing a picture.
Septimus This is not science. This is story-telling.
Thomasina Is it a waltz now?
Septimus No.
The music is still modern.
Valentine Like a film.
Hannah What did she see?
Valentine That you can’t run the film backwards. Heat was the first thing which didn’t work that way. Not like Newton. A film of a pendulum, or a ball falling through the air – backwards, it looks the same.
Hannah The ball would be going the wrong way.
Valentine You’d have to know that. But with heat – friction – a ball breaking a window –
Hannah Yes.
Valentine It won’t work backwards.
Hannah Who thought it did?
Valentine She saw why. You can put back the bits of glass but you can’t collect up the heat of the smash. It’s gone.
Septimus So the Improved Newtonian Universe must cease and grow cold. Dear me.
Valentine The heat goes into the mix. (He gestures to indicate the air in the room, in the universe.)
Thomasina Yes, we must hurry if we are going to dance.
Valentine And everything is mixing the same way, all the time, irreversibly …
Septimus Oh, we have time, I think.
Valentine … till there’s no time left. That’s what time means.
Septimus When we have found all the mysteries and lost all the meaning, we will be alone, on an empty shore.
Thomasina Then we will dance. Is this a waltz?
Septimus It will serve. (He stands up.)
Thomasina (jumping up) Goody!
Septimus takes her in his arms
carefully and the waltz lesson, to the music from the marquee, begins.
Bernard, in unconvincing Regency dress, enters carrying a bottle.
Bernard Don’t mind me, I left my jacket … (He heads for the area of the wicker basket.)
Valentine Are you leaving?
Bernard is stripping off his period coat. He is wearing his own trousers, tucked into knee socks and his own shirt.
Bernard Yes, I’m afraid so.
Hannah What’s up, Bernard?
Bernard Nothing I can go into –
Valentine Should I go?
Bernard No, I’m going!
Valentine and Hannah watch Bernard struggling into his jacket and adjusting his clothes.
Septimus, holding Thomasina, kisses her on the mouth. The waltz lesson pauses. She looks at him. He kisses her again, in earnest. She puts her arms round him.
Thomasina Septimus …
Septimus hushes her. They start to dance again, with the slight awkwardness of a lesson.
Chloë bursts in from the garden.
Chloë I’ll kill her! I’ll kill her!
Bernard Oh dear.
Valentine What the hell is it, Chloë?
Chloë (venomously) Mummy!
Bernard (to Valentine) Your mother caught us in that cottage.
Chloë She snooped!
Bernard I don’t think so. She was rescuing a theodolite.
Chloë I’ll come with you, Bernard.
Bernard No, you bloody won’t.
Chloë Don’t you want me to?
Bernard Of course not. What for? (to Valentine) I’m sorry.
Chloë (in furious tears) What are you saying sorry to him for?
Bernard Sorry to you too. Sorry one and all. Sorry, Hannah – sorry, Hermione – sorry, Byron – sorry, sorry, sorry, now can I go?
Chloë stands stiffly, tearfully.
Chloë Well …
Thomasina and Septimus dance.
Hannah What a bastard you are, Bernard.
Chloë rounds on her.
Chloë And you mind your own business! What do you know about anything?
Hannah Nothing.
Chloë (to Bernard) It was worth it, though, wasn’t it?
Bernard It was wonderful.
Chloë goes out, through the garden door, towards the party.
Hannah (an echo) Nothing.
Valentine Well, you shit. I’d drive you but I’m a bit sloshed.
Valentine follows Chloë out and can be heard outside calling ‘Chlo! Chlo!’
Bernard A scrape.
Hannah Oh … (She gives up.) Bernard!
Bernard I look forward to The Genius of the Place. I hope you find your hermit. I think out front is the safest.
He opens the door cautiously and looks out.
Hannah Actually, I’ve got a good idea who he was, but I can’t prove it.
Bernard (with a carefree expansive gesture) Publish!
He goes out closing the door.
Septimus and Thomasina are now waltzing freely. She is delighted with herself.
Thomasina Am I waltzing?
Septimus Yes, my lady.
He gives her a final twirl, bringing them to the table where he bows to her. He lights her candlestick.
Hannah goes to sit at the table, playing truant from the party. She pours herself more wine. The table contains the geometrical solids, the computer, decanter, glasses, tea mug, Hannah’s research books, Septimus’s books, the two portfolios, Thomasina’s candlestick, the oil lamp, the dahlia, the Sunday papers …
Gus appears in the doorway. It takes a moment to realize that he is not Lord Augustus; perhaps not until Hannah sees him.
Septimus Take your essay, I have given it an alpha in blind faith. Be careful with the flame.
Thomasina I will wait for you to come.
Septimus I cannot.
Thomasina You may.
Septimus I may not.
Thomasina You must.
Septimus I will not.
She puts the candlestick and the essay on the table.
Thomasina Then I will not go. Once more, for my birthday.
Septimus and Thomasina start to waltz together.
Gus comes forward, startling Hannah.
Hannah Oh! – you made me jump.
Gus looks resplendent. He is carrying an old and somewhat tattered stiff-backed folio fastened with a tape tied in a bow. He comes to Hannah and thrusts this present at her.
Oh …
She lays the folio down on the table and starts to open it. It consists only of two boards hinged, containing Thomasina’s drawing.
‘Septimus holding Plautus’. (to Gus) I was looking for that. Thank you.
Gus nods several times. Then, rather awkwardly, he bows to her. A Regency bow, an invitation to dance.
Oh, dear, I don’t really …
After a moment’s hesitation, she gets up and they hold each other, keeping a decorous distance between them, and start to dance, rather awkwardly.
Septimus and Thomasina continue to dance, fluently, to the piano.
End.
THE REAL THING
For Miriam
Characters
Max 40-ish
Charlotte 35-ish
Henry 40-ish
Annie 30-ish
Billy 22-ish
Debbie 17
Brodie 25
The Real Thing was first performed on 16 November 1982 at the Strand Theatre, London, with the following cast:
Max Jeremy Clyde
Charlotte Polly Adams
Henry Roger Rees
Annie Felicity Kendal
Billy Michael Thomas
Debbie Susanna Hamilton
Brodie Ian Oliver
Directed by Peter Wood
Lighting by William Bundy
Designed by Carl Toms
Presented by Michael Codron
Act One
SCENE ONE
Max and Charlotte.
Max doesn’t have to be physically impressive, but you wouldn’t want him for an enemy. Charlotte doesn’t have to be especially attractive, but you instantly want her for a friend.
Living-room. Architect’s drawing board, perhaps. A partly open door leads to an unseen hall and an unseen front door. One or two other doors to other rooms.
Max is alone, sitting in a comfortable chair, with a glass of wine and an open bottle to hand. He is using a pack of playing cards to build a pyramidical, tiered viaduct on the coffee table in front of him. He is about to add a pair of playing cards (leaning against each other to hold each other up), and the pyramid is going well. Beyond the door to the hall, the front door is heard being opened with a key. The light from there changes as the unseen front door is opened.
Max does not react to the opening of the door, which is more behind him than in front of him.
Max Don’t slam –
The front door slams, not violently. The viaduct of cards collapses.
(Superfluously, philosophically) … the door.
Charlotte, in the hall, wearing a topcoat, looks round the door just long enough to say two words and disappears again.
Charlotte It’s me.
Max leaves the cards where they have fallen. He takes a drink from the glass. He doesn’t look up at all.
Charlotte, without the topcoat, comes back into the room carrying a small suitcase and a plastic duty-free airport bag. She puts the case down and comes up behind Max’s chair and kisses the top of his head.
Charlotte Hello.
Max Hello, lover.
Charlotte That’s nice. You used to call me lover. (She drops the airport bag on his lap and returns towards the suitcase.)
Max Oh, it’s you. I thought it was my lover. (He doesn’t look at his present. He puts the bag on the floor by his chair.) Where is it you’ve been?
The question surprises her. She is deflected from picking up her suitcase – presumably to take it into the bedroom – and the case remains where it
is.
Charlotte Well, Switzerland, of course. Weren’t you listening?
Max finally looks at her.
Max You look well. Done you good.
Charlotte What, since yesterday?
Max Well, something has. How’s Ba’l?
Charlotte Who?
Max affects to puzzle very briefly over her answer.
Max I meant Ba’l.
Do you say ‘Basel’?
I say Ba’l.
Charlotte Oh … yes. I say Basel.
Max (lilts) ‘Let’s call the whole thing off …’
Charlotte studies him briefly, quizzically.
Charlotte Fancy a drink? (She notes the glass, the bottle and his behaviour. Pointedly, but affectionately) Another drink?
He smiles at her, empties his glass and holds it up for her. She takes the glass, finds a second glass, pours wine into both glasses and gives Max his own glass.
Max How’s old Basel, then? Keeping fit?
Charlotte Are you a tiny bit sloshed?
Max Certainly.
Charlotte I didn’t go to Basel.
Max is discreetly but definitely interested by that.
Max No? Where did you go, then?
Charlotte Geneva.
Max is surprised. He cackles.
Max Geneva! (He drinks from his glass.) How’s old Geneva, then? Franc doing well?
Charlotte Who?
He affects surprise.
MaxThe Swiss franc. Is it doing well?
Charlotte Are you all right?
Max Absolutely.
Charlotte How have you got on?
Max Not bad. My best was eleven pairs on the bottom row, but I ran out of cards.
Charlotte What about the thing you were working on? … What is it?
Max An hotel.
Charlotte Yes. You were two elevators short.
Max I’ve cracked it.
Charlotte Good.
Max I’m turning the whole place on its side and making it a bungalow. I still have a problem with the rooftop pool. As far as I can see, all the water is going to fall into the shallow end. How’s the lake, by the way?
Charlotte What lake?
He affects surprise.
Max Lake Geneva. You haven’t been to Virginia Water, have you? Lake Geneva. It is at Geneva? It must be. They wouldn’t call it Lake Geneva if it was at Ba’l or Basel. They’d call it Lake Ba’l or Basel. You know the Swiss. Utterly reliable. And they’ve done it without going digital, that’s what I admire so much. They know it’s all a snare and a delusion. I can remember digitals when they first came out. You had to give your wrist a vigorous shake like bringing down a thermometer, and the only place you could buy one was Tokyo. But it looked all over for the fifteen-jewelled movement. Men ran through the market place shouting, ‘The cog is dead.’ But still the Swiss didn’t panic. In fact, they made a few digitals themselves, as a feint to draw the Japanese further into the mire, and got on with numbering the bank accounts. And now you see how the Japs are desperately putting hands on their digital watches. It’s yodelling in the dark. They can yodel till the cows come home. The days of the digitals are numbered. The metaphor is built into them like a self-destruct mechanism. Mark my words, I was right about the skate-board, I was right about nouvelle cuisine, and I’ll be proved right about the digital watch. Digitals have got no class, you see. They’re science and technology. Makes nonsense of a decent pair of cufflinks, as the Swiss are the first to understand. Good sale?
