by Tom Stoppard
Henry Oh, don’t – I told her once that lots of women were only good for fetching drinks, and she became quite unreasonable.
Blithely, knowing what he is doing, Henry holds his empty glass towards Charlotte.
Is there any more of that?
Max glances at Charlotte and hastily tries to defuse the bomb.
Max Let me …
Max takes Henry’s glass and fills it from the bottle and the jug.
Charlotte Lots of men are only good for fetching drinks – why don’t you write about them?
Max hands the glass back to Henry.
Henry (smiling up at Max) Terribly pleased you could come round.
Charlotte Oh, yes, you owe him a drink. I’m the victim of his fantasy, and you’re quids in on it. What an ego trip! Having all the words to come back with just as you need them. That’s the difference between plays and real life – thinking time, time to get your bottle back. ‘Must say, I take my hat off to you, coming home with Rembrandt place mats for your mother.’ You don’t really think that if Henry caught me out with a lover, he’d sit around being witty about place mats? Like hell he would. He’d come apart like a pick-a-sticks. His sentence structure would go to pot, closely followed by his sphincter. You know that, don’t you, Henry? Henry? No answer. Are you there, Henry? Say something witty.
Henry turns his head to her.
Henry Is it anyone I know?
Max (starting to rise) Well, look, thanks for the drink –
Charlotte Oh, sit down, Max, for God’s sake, or he’ll think it’s you.
Max subsides unhappily.
Henry Just kidding, Max. Badinage. You know, dialogue.
The doorbell rings.
See what I mean?
Max Annie said she’d come round if her committee finished early. She’s on this Justice for Brodie Committee … you know … (Pause.) I’ll go, should I?
Henry I’ll go.
Max No, stay where you are, I’ll see if it’s her. (He goes out to the front door.)
Charlotte Thanks very much. Anyone else coming?
Henry Just give them a Twiglet. They won’t stay.
Charlotte What did you phone him for in the first place?
Henry Well, I only have to write it once. He has to show up every night. I had a conscience.
Charlotte Do you have a conscience about me too?
Henry Absolutely. You can have a Twiglet.
Charlotte Well, don’t ask her about Brodie.
Henry Right.
Charlotte If she starts on about scapegoats and cover-ups, she’ll get a Twiglet up her nostril.
Henry Right.
Charlotte (enthusiastically) Darling! It’s been ages!
Annie has entered, followed by Max. Annie is carrying a carrier bag loaded with greengrocery.
Annie Hello, Charlotte. This is jolly nice of you.
Max We can only stay a minute.
Annie How are you, Henry?
Henry Fine.
Max Annie’s stewarding at the protest meeting this afternoon, so we can’t –
Henry Oh, do shut up. Don’t take any notice of Max. I made him nervous.
Annie What did you do to him?
Henry Nothing at all. I asked him if he was having an affair with Charlotte, and he was offended.
Annie Was he?
Henry Apparently not. Been shopping?
Annie Not exactly. I saw a place open on my way back and … Anyway, you might as well take it as an offering.
Charlotte (taking the bag from her and investigating it) Darling, there was absolutely no need to bring … mushrooms?
Annie Yes.
Charlotte (not quite behaving well) And a turnip …
Annie (getting unhappy) And carrots … Oh, dear, it must look as if –
Henry Where’s the meat?
Charlotte Shut up.
Annie I wish I’d brought flowers now.
Charlotte This is much nicer.
Henry So original. I’ll get a vase.
Annie It’s supposed to be crudités.
Henry Crudités! Perfect title for a pornographic revue.
Charlotte I’ll make a dip.
Max We’re not staying to eat, for heaven’s sake.
Henry Just a quick dip.
Annie Would you like me to?
Charlotte No, no. I know where everything is.
Henry Yes, Charlotte will provide dips for the crudity. She knows where everything is.
Charlotte takes charge of the vegetables. Henry gets a fourth glass.
Sit down, have some buck’s fizz. I feel reckless, extravagant, famous, and I’m next week’s castaway on Desert Island Discs. You can be my luxury if you like.
Annie I’m not sure I’m one you can afford.
Max What are your eight records?
Henry This is the problem. I hate music.
Charlotte He likes pop music.
Henry You don’t have to repeat everything I say.
Max I don’t understand the problem.
Charlotte The problem is he’s a snob without being an inverted snob. He’s ashamed of liking pop music. (She takes the vegetables out into the kitchen, closing the door.)
Henry This is true. The trouble is I don’t like the pop music which it’s all right to like. You can have a bit of Pink Floyd shoved in between your symphonies and your Dame Janet Baker – that shows a refreshing breadth of taste or at least a refreshing candour – but I like Wayne Fontana and the Mindbenders doing ‘Um Um Um Um Um Um’.
Max Doing what?
Henry That’s the title. (He demonstrates it.) ‘Um-Um-Um-Um-Um-Um’. I like Neil Sedaka. Do you remember ‘Oh, Carol’?
Max For God’s sake.
Henry (cheerfully) Yes, I’m not very up to date. I like Herman’s Hermits, and the Hollies, and the Everly Brothers, and Brenda Lee, and the Supremes … I don’t mean everything they did. I don’t like artists. I like singles.
Max This is sheer pretension.
Henry (insistently) No. It moves me, the way people are supposed to be moved by real music. I was taken once to Covent Garden to hear a woman called Callas in a sort of foreign musical with no dancing which people were donating kidneys to get tickets for. The idea was that I would be cured of my strange disability. As though the place were a kind of Lourdes, except that instead of the front steps being littered with wooden legs, it would be tin ears. My illness at the time took the form of believing that the Righteous Brothers’ recording of ‘You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feelin” on the London label was possibly the most haunting, the most deeply moving noise ever produced by the human spirit, and this female vocalist person was going to set me right.
Max No good?
Henry Not even close. That woman would have had a job getting into the top thirty if she was hyped.
Max You preferred the Brothers.
Henry I did. Do you think there’s something wrong with me?
Max Yes. I’d say you were a moron.
Henry What can I do?
Max There’s nothing you can do.
Henry I mean about Desert Island Discs.
Annie You know damned well what you should do.
Henry Cancel?
Max Actually, I remember it. (He sings, badly.) ‘You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling …’
Henry That’s an idea – aversion therapy.
Max (sings) ‘… that lovin’ feeling … You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling …’
Henry I think it’s working.
Max (sings)
‘… it’s gorn, gorn, gorn … oh – oh – oh – yeah …’
Henry (happily) God, it’s rubbish! You’ve cracked it. Now do ‘Oh Carol’.
Max I don’t know that one.
Henry I’ll play it for you.
Max I think I’ll go and help Charlotte.
Annie I should go.
Max No. I thought of it first.
Charlotte enters, carrying a bowl.
Charlotte One dip.
Max I was coming to help.
Charlotte All right, you can chop.
Max Fine. Chop …
Max goes out into the kitchen. Charlotte places the bowl and is about to follow Max out. Henry dips his finger into the bowl and tastes the dip.
Henry It needs something.
Charlotte I beg your pardon?
Henry It needs something. A bit of interest. Garlic? Lemon juice? I don’t know.
Charlotte (coldly) Perhaps you should employ a cook.
Henry Surely that would be excessive – a cook who spends all her time emptying jars of mayonnaise and adding lemon juice? What would we do with the surplus?
Charlotte Presumably put it on stage with the rest of your stuff.
Charlotte goes out into the kitchen, closing the door. Pause.
Henry Are you all right?
Annie nods.
Annie Are you all right?
Henry nods.
Touch me.
Henry shakes his head.
Touch me.
Henry No.
Annie Come on, touch me.
Help yourself.
Touch me anywhere you like.
Henry No.
Annie Touch me.
Henry No.
Annie Coward.
Henry I love you anyway.
Annie Yes, say that.
Henry I love you.
Annie Go on.
Henry I love you.
Annie That’s it.
Henry I love you.
Annie Touch me then. They’ll come in or they won’t. Take a chance. Kiss me.
Henry For Christ’s sake.
Annie Quick one on the carpet then.
Henry You’re crackers.
Annie I’m not interested in your mind.
Henry Yes, you are.
Annie No, I’m not, I lied to you.
Pause. Henry smiles at her.
I hate Sunday.
Henry Thought I’d cheer you up with an obscene phone call, but Max got to it first, so I improvised.
Annie I might have come round anyway. ‘Hello, Henry, Charlotte, just passing, long time no see.’
Henry That would have been pushing it.
Annie I’m in a mood to push it. Let’s go while they’re chopping turnips.
Henry You are crackers.
Annie We’ll go, and then it will be done. Max will suffer. Charlotte will make you suffer and get custody. You’ll see Debbie on Sundays, and in three years she’ll be at university not giving a damn either way.
Henry It’s not just Debbie.
Annie No, you want to give it time –
Henry Yes –
Annie … time to go wrong, change, spoil. Then you’ll know it wasn’t the real thing.
Henry I don’t steal other men’s wives.
Annie Sod you.
Henry You know what I mean.
Annie Yes, you mean you love me but you don’t want it to get around. Me and the Righteous Brothers. Well, sod you.
The kitchen door is flung open and Max enters rather dramatically, bleeding from a cut finger.
Max Don’t panic! Have you got a hankie?
Annie Max?
Annie and Henry respond appropriately, each searching for a handkerchief. Henry produces one first, a clean white one, from his pocket.
Henry Here –
Max Thanks. No, let me –
Annie Let me see.
Max It’s all right, it’s not as bad as it looks. (to Henry.) Typical of your bloody kitchen – all champagne and no elastoplast.
Annie Poor love, just hold the cut for a while.
Max I think I’ll put it back under the tap. (He moves towards the kitchen.)
Henry Sorry about this, Max. She tried to do it to me once.
Max leaves, leaving the door open. Henry and Annie’s conversation is in no way furtive but pitched to acknowledge the open door.
Annie I’m sorry.
Henry No, I’m sorry.
Annie It’s all right. Anything’s all right.
Henry moves forward and kisses her lightly.
Henry It’ll get better.
Annie How?
Henry Maybe we’ll get found out.
Annie Better to tell them. Whoever comes in first, eh? If it’s Max, I’ll tell him. If it’s Charlotte, you start.
All right?
It’s easy. Like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid jumping off the cliff.
It’s only a couple of marriages and a child.
All right?
Charlotte enters from the kitchen, carrying a tray of chopped-up vegetables.
(To Henry) All right?
This is bold as brass and, consequently, safe as houses: in this way Annie and Henry continue to speak quite privately to each other in the interstices of the general conversation, under or over the respective preoccupations of Charlotte and Max.
Charlotte Did Max tell you? It’s red cabbage. I’ve taken him off the knives. He’s making another dip. He says it’s Hawaiian. It’s supposed to be served in an empty pineapple. We haven’t got a pineapple. He’s going to serve it in an empty tin of pineapple chunks. I do envy you being married to a man with a sense of humour. Henry thinks he has a sense of humour, but what he has is a joke reflex. Eh, Henry? His mind is racing. Pineapple, pineapple … Come on, darling.
Henry (to Annie) No. Sorry.
Annie It’s all right.
Charlotte (busy with cutlery) Is Debbie expecting lunch?
Henry (to Annie) No.
Charlotte What?
Henry No. She wants to stay out.
Annie drinks what remains in her glass.
Annie Where is Debbie?
Henry Riding school. Drink?
Henry takes her empty glass out of her hand.
Annie Love you.
Charlotte She used to eat like a horse, till she had one.
Henry refills Annie’s glass.
Henry I’m picking her up this afternoon. (He returns Annie’s glass.) Buck’s fizz all right?
Charlotte Picking her up?
Annie I don’t care.
Max enters with the Hawaiian dip in the pineapple tin.
Max Here we are.
Annie Anything’s all right.
Max It’s Hawaiian.
Henry You’re a lovely feller.
Charlotte Well done, Max.
Annie So are you. (She meets Max, dips her finger into the tin and tastes the dip.)
Max I hope I’ve got it right. What do you think?
In his other hand Max has Henry’s somewhat blood-stained handkerchief, which he now offers back.
(To Henry) Thanks. What should I do with it?
Henry (taking it) It’s OK, I’ll take it. (He puts the handkerchief in his pocket.)
Annie (to Max) Not bad. (to Charlotte) May I?
Charlotte Feel free.
Annie Hang on a sec. (She takes the tin from Max and leaves the room with it, going to the kitchen.)
Charlotte (to Henry) You’re over-protective. She could walk it in half an hour.
Max Who, what?
Charlotte Debbie.
Henry By the time she finished mucking out, whatever they call it …
Charlotte Grooming the mount, mounting the groom …
Henry (unamused) Hilarious.
Max I wouldn’t let her walk. Someone got murdered on the common not long ago. Mustn’t put temptation in the way.
Charlotte Debbie wouldn’t murder anyone. She’d just duff them up a little bit. I can’t make her out at all.
Annie re-enters with the dip.
Some people have daughters who love ponies.
Passing Henry, Annie casually puts her finger in his mouth, without pausing.
Annie What do you think?
Charlotte Some people have daughters who go punk. We’ve got one who goes riding on Barnes Common looking like the Last of the Mohicans.
Henry Crackers.
Annie delivers the dip to Charlotte.
Charlotte (to Annie) Is yours a case of sperm count or twisted tubes? Or is it that you just can’t stand the little buggers?
Max Charlotte!
Henry What business is that of yours?
Charlotte He’s in love with his, you know.
Annie Isn’t that supposed to be normal?
Charlotte No, dear, normal is the other way round.
Henry I say, Annie, what’s this Brodie Committee all about? Charlotte was asking.
Max You know, Private Brodie.
Annie It’s all right.
Max Annie knows him.
Annie I don’t know him.
Max Tell them about meeting him on the train.
Annie Yes. I met him on a train.
Pause. But Henry, exhibiting avid interest, disobliges her.
Henry Yes?
Annie (laughs uncomfortably) I seem to have told this story before.
Henry But we haven’t seen you for ages.
Max Annie was travelling up to London from our cottage, weren’t you?
Henry Were you?
Annie Yes.
Henry (fascinated) You have a cottage in …?
Annie Norfolk.
Henry Norfolk! What, up in the hills there?
Annie (testily) What hills? Norfolk is absolutely – (She brings herself up short.)
Charlotte Oh, very funny. Stop it, Henry.
Henry I have no idea what you are talking about. So, you were coming up to London from your flat in Norfolk – cottage – and you met this Private Brodie on the train.
Annie Yes.
Max It was quite remarkable. Brodie was on his way to the anti-missiles demonstration, just like Annie.
Henry Really?
Annie Yes.
Henry How did you know? Was he wearing a ‘Missiles Out’ badge on his uniform?
Annie He wasn’t in uniform.
Max The guts of it, the sheer moral courage. An ordinary soldier using his weekend pass to demonstrate against their bloody missiles.
Henry Their? I thought they were ours.
Max No, they’re American.
Henry Oh, yes – their …
Max Pure moral conscience, you see – I mean, he didn’t have our motivation.
Henry Our?
Max Mine and Annie’s.
Henry appears not to understand.
Owning property in Little Barmouth.
Henry Yes, of course. Private Brodie didn’t own a weekend cottage in Little Barmouth, you mean.
Max No, he’s a Scots lad. He was stationed at the camp down the road. He was practically guarding the base where these rockets are making Little Barmouth into a sitting duck for the Russian counter-attack, should it ever come to that.
