Plays 5

by Tom Stoppard

  Guthrie Why did Shimbu let Carson leave?

  Milne I don’t know. (Pause. Apologetically) I thought you meant a real pigeon … before. Sorry.

  Wagner (to Guthrie) What do you think?

  Guthrie (to Milne) Carson’s using you for something.

  Milne Does it matter?

  Guthrie Maybe not. I’ll come with you.

  Milne Fine. I never thought I’d be on a story with you.

  Guthrie Me neither. (He relaxes, having settled his immediate future. He picks up Alastair’s camera and completes the business of inserting a film.)

  Milne How interesting – I always imagined you’d have one of those flashy Japanese jobs with lenses and things …

  Guthrie (smiles) There you go.

  Wagner (with Milne’s story) Is all this going to stand up? Twelve Mig-17s, three Ilyushin-28s – who told you?

  Milne I watched them land this morning.

  Wagner Where did they come from?

  Milne Yemen. But Shimbu already had the American T-28s stashed away on strip which the Russians put down for him in the desert. He’s got three of those. Flown in by Kambawe Airforce deserters.

  Wagner (to Guthrie) True to form. No matter how far left you plant your flag, there’s always a few who’ll go with you.

  Milne Actually, no – this was tribal, not political. This was very early on and no more have come over since, which probably means the Airforce have grounded anyone they’re not sure of. That’s probably worth checking into.

  Wagner (drily) Thank you.

  Milne You can see why Shimbu went for Malakuangazi – I should have worked it out. It’s not the mine, it’s the airstrip. There’s no strip at Jeddu for anything bigger than a light plane. In the hills he had to make do with Mi-8 choppers to supply him from across the border.

  Wagner Who flies them?

  Milne Cubans. It’s in there.

  Wagner Did you actually see a Cuban flying a helicopter?

  Milne Not exactly –

  Wagner (flaring up) Listen, Jacob – I know what it’s like in Grimsby. You can say that Cubans have taken over the fishing fleet and next day you say that they haven’t, actually, and nobody gives a bugger, because it’s Grimsby. But this is the Sunday Globe and if you say Shimbu’s got Cuban pilots you’ve got to have something better than his word and a Havana cigar – so who says they’re Cuban?

  Milne They do.

  Wagner (pause) You interviewed them?

  Milne Not exactly interviewed – they wouldn’t let me. We played cards a few times. I was just improving my Spanish. (His irritation gets the better of him.) And if you don’t mind my saying so, Mr Wagner, you know fuck all about the Grimsby Evening Messenger, which is a great deal more important around Grimsby than the Sunday Globe is around the globe on any bloody day of the week!

  Wagner Please call me Dick. This guy with the field battery – did you talk to him? (He is referring to Milne’s pages.)

  Milne Yes.

  Wagner He spoke English?

  Milne No, but I know a little Russian – it was my optional language at school.

  Wagner (exasperated) Tell me something, Jacob – what did you get fired for?

  Milne I didn’t exactly get fired. It was after the trouble in the provinces – you know, the strike.

  Wagner Strike?

  Milne The provincial reporters’ strike. There were several reports in the Globe, including one from Grimsby which was not as accurate as one might have wished.

  Wagner I don’t understand. You got fired for going on strike?

  Milne (laughs) Are you serious?

  Wagner (pause) Oh no.

  Milne Yes. It all seems a bit silly out here, doesn’t it?

  Wagner Milne. You’re one of those blokes all the fuss was about in …

  Milne Grimsby.

  Wagner (to Guthrie) Do you see who we’ve got here? It is the Grimsby scab.

  Milne I say, that’s not very nice.

  Wagner Is it not?

  Milne No. I don’t keep an abusive vocabulary ready for anyone who acts on different principles.

  Wagner Oh, acting on principle were you?

  Milne Yes, I was, as a matter of fact.

  Wagner Is it your principle to betray your fellow workers when they’re in confrontation with management?

  Milne can’t believe this. He almost laughs.

  Milne Come again?

  Wagner (furious) Don’t patronize me, you little berk.

  Milne I’m sorry – I was just taken aback. I never got used to the way the house Trots fell into the jargon back in Grimsby – I mean, on any other subject, like the death of the novel, or the sex life of the editor’s secretary, they spoke ordinary English, but as soon as they started trying to get me to join the strike it was as if their brains had been taken out and replaced by one of those little golf-ball things you get in electric typewriters … ‘Betrayal’ … ‘Confrontation’ … ‘Management’ … My God, you’d need a more supple language than that to describe an argument between two amoebas.

  But Wagner has already turned away to Guthrie – well worked up.

  Wagner ‘Special Correspondent’! That’s why Hammaker didn’t give him a by-line! He knew Derek would never have worn it for a minute –

  Guthrie What Derek?

  Wagner Battersby – Derek Battersby – Branch Secretary.

  Guthrie Battersby? I went on something with him once … bloody useless reporter.

  Wagner He’s bloody good at squeezing the management. They don’t always go together.

  Guthrie Do they ever go together?

  Milne I thought foreign correspondents would find the whole thing a bit parochial.

  Wagner (acidly) I am not a foreign correspondent. A foreign correspondent is someone who lives in foreign parts and corresponds, usually in the form of essays containing no new facts. Otherwise he’s someone who flies around from hotel to hotel and thinks the most interesting thing about any story is the fact that he has arrived to cover it. I am a fireman. I go to fires. Brighton or Kambawe – they’re both out-of-town stories and I cover them the same way. I don’t file prose. I file facts. So don’t imagine for a moment you’ve stumbled across a fellow member of the Travellers’ Club. To me you’re the Grimsby scab. Jacob Milne. Yeah. What happened to the others?

  Milne What do you mean?

  Wagner It wasn’t just you, was it? Getting out the paper like bob-a-job week?

  Milne No.

  Wagner Well I hope they’re all making out as stringers up the Limpopo.

  Milne They’re all still on the Messenger. After the strike was settled the union expelled us, but the others appealed and got fined. Of course, the union didn’t really want to expel me, they expected me to appeal too.

  Wagner Why didn’t you?

  Milne I was feeling a bit wicked. The Messenger isn’t officially a closed shop, you see – they’d just got used to having a hundred per cent membership. I gave them a problem.

  Wagner Smarty-boots.

  Milne I’m afraid so. But it backfired. By a majority decision they refused to work with me, and it looked as if the paper was going to shut down again, this time because of me.

  Wagner So the management dumped you. You had to learn the hard way, didn’t you? Bosses are bosses, and that’s what it’s all about, kid.

  Milne I resigned.

  Wagner Oh yeah.

  Milne They refused to sack me.

  Wagner They just heaved a huge sigh of relief when you went.

  Milne Possibly.

  Wagner Well, I hope the experience radicalized you a little. We’re working to keep richer men than us richer than us, and nothing’s going to change that without worker solidarity.

  Milne I bet they don’t come much more solid than you.

  Wagner (wide-eyed to Guthrie) Did you hear what he just said to me?

  Milne The Globe is losing a million a year, and nobody’s getting rich on the Messenger either. It’s not a private coal-
mine sending somebody’s son to Eton, it’s a limited liability company publishing a reasonably honest and not particularly wonderful local paper in the last two-paper town of its size in the country that began the whole idea of the right to publish, and you’d close it down out of pique –

  Wagner What are you burbling about?

  Milne We were called out for the same reason as the Mirror last year – because the printers had got a new deal.

  Wagner (high) Well, there were printers getting more than journalists!

  Milne Yes, I know, but you make it sound as if the natural order has been overthrown. Fish sing in the streets, rivers run uphill, and the printers are getting more than the journalists. OK – you’re worth more than a printer. But look at some of this – (With his hand, or perhaps his foot, he spreads the newspapers and the News of the World lies in front of him.) ‘Exposed! The Ouija Board Widow Who’s Writing Hitler’s Memoirs’ … ‘It Was Frying Tonight And Every Night In The Back Of The Chip Shop!’ … (and the Mirror) ‘Some Like It Hot And Sweet – Sally Smith is a tea lady in a Blackpool engineering works, but it was the way she filled those C-cups which got our cameraman all stirred up!’ It’s crap. And it’s written by grown men earning maybe ten thousand a year. If I was a printer, I’d look at some of the stuff I’m given to print, and I’d ask myself what is supposed to be so special about the people who write it – is that radical enough for you – Dick?

  The feeling is that Wagner might actually hit him. Before we can find out whether he would have done or not, the study door opens and Carson comes out, head bent over a sheet of telex paper in his hands. He comes out reading.

  Carson ‘Onpass Milne. Congratulations Shimbu interview worldwide interest. Hammaker.’ (He hands this to Milne.)

  Milne Oh … thanks.

  Carson Sorry I had to leave you so long. (He nods at Guthrie.)

  Guthrie George Guthrie.

  Carson George.

  They shake hands.

  … and …

  Wagner Dick Wagner.

  Carson Good. Geoff is my name. Should we have a beer? Or would you prefer something stronger?

  Guthrie Beer is fine.

  Carson Dick?

  Wagner Thank you.

  Carson Sure you wouldn’t rather have a scotch?

  Wagner Much rather. Thanks.

  Carson looks again at Guthrie.

  Guthrie No – beer is fine.

  Carson Jake?

  Milne seems to be still reading the telex.

  Milne Yes?

  Carson Beer or scotch?

  Milne Yes – fine.

  Carson (giving up) I’ll go and tell Francis. (to Milne) You can try London now if you like.

  Wagner We’re very grateful to you … Geoff … most grateful.

  Carson (to Milne) By the way you’ve got the spare room.

  Milne Thank you.

  Carson leaves.

  Wagner I want to use that thing.

  Milne How do you get London anyway?

  Wagner You may be wasting your time.

  Milne Why?

  Guthrie You’re kidding.

  Wagner No, I’m an officer of the Globe chapel.

  Guthrie That doesn’t make it your responsibility.

  Wagner That’s right. Let Hammaker fight it out with Battersby at branch level.

  Milne What is this?

  Wagner (by way of answer) ‘Onpass Battersby. Must protest employment of special correspondent Milne, non-member ex-Grimsby.’ All right?

  Milne (pause) We went in under heavy sniper fire. If there’d been a paid-up member around he could have had the job with pleasure.

  Wagner Nothing personal. Send the piece. I’m not stopping you.

  Milne Thanks a lot.

  Guthrie You are kidding.

  Wagner Watch me. (He goes to the study door and then invites Milne.) Watch me?

  Milne goes into the study with Wagner, who shuts the door. Guthrie takes a camera out of the camera bag and hangs it round his neck. Carson returns.

  Carson Ruth’s just coming down.

  Guthrie OK if I take a picture?

  Carson What for?

  Guthrie I don’t know. Can I?

  Carson I suppose there’s no harm.

  Guthrie gets ready to take pictures, and is taking them over the next few moments until Ruth’s entrance.

  Guthrie How can you get back into that place?

  Carson Malakuangazi? There’s no way you can get me back. I was lucky to get out.

  Guthrie I mean …

  Carson Oh … How can you …

  Guthrie Me and Jake.

  Carson Jake asked me to help him.

  Guthrie Can you?

  Carson Mageeba will have got his armour up there. You can’t just stroll through.

  Guthrie What then?

  Carson We’ll see.

  Guthrie Do you know Shimbu?

  Carson Yes.

  Guthrie Why did he let you out? (Pause.) I wondered if you were some kind of … I don’t mean messenger –

  Carson Emissary.

  Guthrie Yes.

  Carson doesn’t reply. Guthrie takes pictures. The telephone rings. Guthrie had just finished but this gives him a different sort of picture to take and he takes some while Carson is on the phone. Carson does hardly any talking, much more listening. What he says isn’t audible anyway.

  Behind Carson, on phone, and Guthrie, Wagner comes out of the study, closing the door behind him just as Ruth enters from within the house. When they see each other they pause, looking at each other. Wagner smiles.

  Carson hangs up and turns and sees them. Francis enters with a tray of drinks, beers and scotches.

  Carson Ah, darling – have you met?

  Ruth No, we haven’t. Mr Guthrie told me you were expected … (offering her hand) Mr … Strauss …? (She takes a scotch off the tray.) Thank you, Francis. (Her manner is amused, relaxed.)

  Wagner Wagner.

  Ruth Wagner. Exactly. I knew it was Richard.

  Wagner How nice to meet you, Mrs Carson.

  Francis is moving around and the drinks are being taken off his tray. Ruth and Wagner move down through the room and end up downstage.

  Carson We’re Geoff and Ruth to everyone around here. (He takes a beer off the tray.) Isn’t that right, Francis?

  Francis Yes sir, Mr Carson.

  Wagner (taking a scotch off the tray) Ruth, then.

  Ruth And I’ll call you Richard.

  Wagner Most people call me Dick.

  Ruth I’m not terribly fond of Dick.

  Wagner You could have fooled me.

  Their position in the room has enabled him to say this evenly.

  Ruth Well, that’s that settled. Why don’t we sit down?

  Guthrie (to Francis but for Ruth’s benefit; taking his beer off the tray) Thank you, sir …

  Ruth Where’s the other chap? The one who came with you?

  Carson Jacob Milne.

  Wagner He’s in there trying to raise London. Do you know London, Ruth?

  Ruth Oh, rather. Good old London eh? … the red buses scattering the pigeons in Trafalgar Square …

  Carson Yes, indeed.

  Ruth Covent Garden porters with baskets of fruit and veg piled on their heads, threading their way among the flower girls and professors of linguistics.

  Carson All gone now.

  Ruth Flexing their native wit against the inimitable banter of the pearly kings … The good old London bobby keeping a fatherly eye on the children feeding the beefeaters outside Buckingham Palace …

  Carson Oh, all right.

  Ruth … giving himself a glancing blow with his riot shield every time a tourist asks him the time. (She turns her wrist to look at her watch and staggers back from an imaginary blow to the forehead.)

  Carson Don’t be a rotter. (to Wagner) How is London really?

  Guthrie Don’t ask him – he’s a bloody colonial, knows nothing.

  Deep pause. Ruth is amused. Carson
is forgiving. Guthrie apologetic. Wagner helps out.

  Wagner It’s quite true about me. When I first arrived in London I thought Fleet Street was between the Strand and Trafalgar Square. I was working from a Monopoly board.

  Ruth We play Monopoly with Alastair.

  Carson Do we?

  Ruth On Boxing Day. As far as I remember Fleet Street was yellow and rather cheap. Is that right, Dick?

  Wagner Not necessarily. Leicester Square and Coventry Street were yellow. To be fair you’d never confuse Fleet Street with Soho on the ground, you never saw anything so sleazy – the whole place has given itself over to crude titillation and eye-catching junk.

  Ruth And how about Soho?

  Wagner (catching up) Soho. You’re a caution.

  Ruth Where are you from, George?

  Guthrie London Wall. In the City. Of course, it’s all been knocked down now. Bloody shame.

  Carson Yes, indeed.

  Guthrie You should see it now. Do you know St Paul’s?

  Ruth I’ve heard of it.

  Guthrie Sitting there surrounded by giant boxes. It looks like it’s just been unpacked and nobody’s cleared up.

  Carson Actually, Ruth was born in London.

  Guthrie Really? Well, you wouldn’t know it now. When were you last there?

  Ruth Friday.

  Guthrie (pause) I think I’ll just sit and drink my beer.

  Carson (to Ruth) You’re a rotter.

  The telephone rings and he gets up to answer it. Again he does more listening than talking.

  Ruth I’m a rotter, George. I’m a frightful rotter. I was picking up Allie from prep school, his first term at Ascot Heath.

  Alastair comes in wearing pyjamas and dressing gown and slippers.

  Hello, darling, your mummy’s a rotter. Have you come to say goodnight?

  Alastair (outraged) Goodnight? I haven’t even had supper.

  Ruth Well, go and see Winnie, she’ll have it ready.

  Alastair I want to talk to Mr Guthrie.

  Ruth Mr Guthrie will come and see you, won’t you, George?

  Guthrie Never fear. (He stands and moves to the verandah and looks out, and yawns.)

  Alastair Will you come and see me in my room?

  Guthrie Promise.

  Ruth So will I. Say goodnight to Mr Wagner.

  Alastair Goodnight.

  Wagner Goodnight, Alastair.

  Alastair You won’t forget, George?