Plays 5

by Tom Stoppard

Das Yes.

  Flora Whose colour is blue-black.

  Das Shyama. Yes.

  Flora It seemed a strange colour for love.

  Das Krishna was often painted shyama.

  Flora Yes. I can see that now. It’s the colour he looked in the moonlight.

  They stand still, and in the moment the moonlight clouds to darkness.

  Flora (recorded)

  ‘Heat collects and holds as a pearl at my throat,

  let’s go and slides like a tongue-tip down a Modigliani,

  spills into the delta, now in the salt-lick,

  lost in the mangroves and the airless moisture,

  a seed-pearl returning to the oyster –

  et nos cedamus amori …’

  Dawn.

  Flora lies inside the mosquito net. She looks at her watch on the bedside table, and drinks from the water glass.

  Approaching unseen, Pike and Dilip are heard reciting/chanting.

  Pike and Dilip

  ‘It’s no go the merrygoround, it’s no go the rickshaw,

  All we want is a limousine and a ticket for the peepshow.

  Their knickers are made of crêpe de Chine, their shoes are made of python,

  Their halls are lined with tiger rugs, and their walls with heads of bison.’

  During this, Flora, naked and pulling on a robe, gets out of bed. She goes into the bathroom.

  Pike and Dilip enter. It is dawn for them, too. They have been up all night. They each have a bottle of beer. They are happy, not drunk.

  Pike and Dilip

  ‘It’s no go the yogi-man, it’s no go Blavatsky,

  All we want is a bank balance and a bit of skirt in a taxi!’

  Pike (toasting) Madame Blavatsky and Louis MacNeice!

  Dilip (toasting) Madame Blavatsky and the Theosophi cal Society, coupled with Indian nationalism!

  Pike Really?

  Dilip Oh yes. That’s why the Jummapur branch was suppressed. The study of Indian religions is a very fine thing, no doubt, but politics is always the baby in the bathwater. Excuse me, I’ll have a little rest. (He lies on the ground on his back.)

  Pike It’s no go the records of the Theosophical Society, it’s no go the newspaper files partitioned to ashes … All we want is the facts and to tell the truth in our fashion … Her knickers were made of crêpe-de-Chine, her poems were up in Bow Street, her list of friends laid end to end … could make a hell of a story. But it’s no go the watercolour, it’s no go the Modigliani … The glass is falling hour by hour, and we’re back in the mulligatawny … But we will leave no Das unturned. He had a son. God, this country is so big! – Dilip –?

  Dilip is asleep. Pike shakes him.

  Dilip! It’s morning!

  Dilip wakes refreshed.

  Dilip Ah yes. Would you like to come home for breakfast?

  Pike Oh … Thanks!

  Dilip It’s going to be hot today.

  Pike It’s hot every day.

  Dilip No, Eldon, you haven’t been hot yet. But you’re off to the hills, so you will be all right.

  A car is heard approaching. Flora comes from the bathroom, now wearing her slip and putting on her robe. She comes to meet Durance at the steps of the verandah.

  Flora David …?

  Durance You’re up!

  Flora Up with the dawn. What on earth are you doing?

  Durance (approaching) I’m afraid I came to wake you. Don’t you sleep?

  Flora Yes, I slept early and woke early.

  Durance I promised you a turn with the Daimler – remember?

  Flora Yes.

  Durance I wanted to show you the sunrise. There’s a pretty place for it only ten minutes down the road. Will you come?

  Flora Can I go in my dressing-gown?

  Durance Well … better not.

  Flora Right-o. I’ll get dressed.

  Durance Good.

  Flora Come up.

  Durance comes up the verandah steps.

  I’ll be quick. (She goes into the bedroom. She hurriedly puts on a dress.)

  Durance (calling from the verandah) The damnedest thing happened to me just now.

  Flora Can’t hear you!

  Durance steps into the interior, outside the bedroom door.

  Durance That fellow Das was on the road. I’m sure it was him.

  Flora (dressing) Well … why not?

  Durance He cut me.

  Flora What?

  Durance I gave him a wave and he turned his back. I thought – ‘well, that’s a first!’

  Flora Oh! There’s hope for him yet.

  Durance They’ll be throwing stones next. (then registering her remark) What?

  Flora Come in, it’s quite safe.

  Durance enters the bedroom. Flora, dressed, puts on her shoes, drags a hairbrush through her hair …

  Durance picks up Flora’s book from beside the unmade bed.

  Durance Oh …! You’re reading Emily Eden. I read it years ago.

  Flora We’ll miss the sunrise.

  Durance (with the book) There’s a bit somewhere … she reminds me of you. ‘Off with their heads!’

  Flora Whose heads?

  Durance Hang on, I’ll find it – it was Queen Victoria’s birthday … (He discovers the Rajah’s gift.) Oh!

  Flora What?

  Durance Nothing. I found your bookmark.

  Flora I’m ready. It’s not my bookmark, I put it there for safe keeping.

  Durance Where did you get such a thing?

  Flora His Highness gave it to me.

  Durance Why?

  Flora Because I ate an apricot. Because he is a Rajah. Because he hoped I’d go to bed with him. I don’t know.

  Durance But how could he … feel himself in such intimacy with you? Had you met him before?

  Flora No, David –

  Durance But my dear girl, in accepting a gift like this don’t you see – (Pause.) Well, it’s your life, of course …

  Flora Shall we go?

  Durance … but I’m in a frightfully difficult position now.

  Flora Why?

  Durance Did he visit you?

  Flora I visited him.

  Durance I know. Did he visit you?

  Flora Mind your own business.

  Durance But it is my business.

  Flora Because you think you love me?

  Durance No, I … Keeping tabs on what His Highness is up to is one of my … I mean I write reports to Delhi.

  Flora (amused) Oh heavens!

  Durance You’re a politically sensitive person, actually, coming here with an introduction from that man Chamberlain … I mean this sort of thing –

  Flora Oh, darling policeman.

  Durance How can I ignore it?

  Flora Don’t ignore it. Report what you like. I don’t mind, you see. You mind. But I don’t. I have never minded. (She steps on to the verandah. In despair) Oh – look at the sky! We’re going to be too late!

  Durance (to hell with it) Come on! Our road is due west – if you know how to drive a car we’ll make it.

  They dash towards the car … the car doors are heard slamming, the engine roars into life and the Daimler takes off at what sounds like a dangerous speed.

  Mrs Swan and Anish are walking away. He carries his briefcase. She has Flora’s copy of Emily Eden.

  Anish Mrs Swan … Flora’s letter said, ‘Guess what – you won’t approve …’ and Mr Pike’s footnote implies that it was the Political Agent, Captain Durance, who …

  Mrs Swan Mr Pike presumes too much.

  Anish Yes! Why wouldn’t you approve of Captain Durance? Surely it’s more likely she meant …

  Mrs Swan Meant what, Mr Das?

  Anish I don’t mean any offence.

  Mrs Swan Then you must take care not to give it.

  Anish But would you have disapproved of a British Army Officer, Mrs Swan? More than of an Indian painter?

  Mrs Swan Certainly. Mr Pike is spot-on there. In 1930 I was working for a commun
ist newspaper. Which goes to show that people are surprising. But you know that from your father, don’t you?

  Anish Why?

  Mrs Swan He must have surprised you too. The terror of the Empire Day gymkhana, the thrower of mangoes at the Resident’s Daimler.

  Anish Yes. Yes. He must have – altered.

  Mrs Swan Yes. One alters. (She gives Anish the book by Emily Eden.) This is yours. It belonged to your father. It has his name in it.

  Anish takes the book wordlessly and opens it.

  I hope you’re not going to blub. And you mustn’t make assumptions. When Flora said I wouldn’t approve, she did not mean this man or that man. Cigarettes, whisky and men were not on the menu. She didn’t need Dr Guppy to tell her that. No, I would not have approved. But Flora’s weakness was always romance. To call it that.

  Anish She had a romance with my father.

  Mrs Swan Quite possibly. Or with Captain Durance. Or His Highness the Rajah of Jummapur. Or someone else entirely. It hardly matters, looking back. Men were not really important to Flora. If they had been, they would have been fewer. She used them like batteries. When things went flat, she’d put in a new one … I’ll come to the gate with you. If you decide to tell Mr Pike about the watercolour, I’m sure Flora wouldn’t mind.

  Anish No. Thank you, but it’s my father I’m thinking of. He really wouldn’t want it, not even in a footnote. So we’ll say nothing to Mr Pike.

  Mrs Swan Good for you. I don’t tell Mr Pike everything either. It’s been an unusually interesting day, thanks to you, Mr Das.

  Anish Thank you for tea. The Victoria sponge was best! The raspberry jam too.

  Mrs Swan I still have raspberries left to pick, and the plums to come. I always loved the fruit trees at home.

  Anish At home?

  Mrs Swan Orchards of apricot – almond – plum – I never cared for the southern fruits, mango, paw-paw and such like. But up in the North West … I was quite unprepared for it when I first arrived. It was early summer. There was a wind blowing. And I have never seen such blossom, it blew everywhere. There were drifts of snow-white flowers piled up against the walls of the graveyard. I had to kneel on the ground and sweep the petals off her stone to read her name.

  They stroll out of view.

  Nell is bending over a gravestone … watched by Eric.

  Nell ‘Florence Edith Crewe … Born March 21st 1895 … Died June 10th 1930. Requiescat In Pace.’

  Eric I’m afraid it’s very simple. I hope that’s all right.

  Nell Yes. It was good of you.

  Eric Oh no, we look after our own. Of course.

  Nell I think she would have liked ‘Poet’ under her name. If I left some money here to pay for it …?

  Eric There are funds within my discretion. You may count on it, Miss Crewe. Poet. I should have thought of that. It is how we remember your sister.

  Nell Really?

  Eric She read one evening. The Club has a habit of asking guests to sing for their supper and Miss Crewe read to us … from her work.

  Nell Oh dear.

  Eric (laughs gently) Yes. Well, we’re a bit behind the times, I expect. But we all liked her very much. We didn’t know what to expect because we understood she was a protegee of Mr Chamberlain who had lectured in the town some years before. Perhaps you know him.

  Nell Yes. I’m not really in touch with him nowadays.

  Eric Ah. It was just about this time of year when she was here, wasn’t it? It was clear she wasn’t well – these steps we just climbed, for instance, she could hardly manage them. Even so, death in India is often more unexpected, despite being more common, if you understand me. I’m talking far too much. I’m so sorry. I’ll wait at the gate. Please stay as long as you wish, I have no one waiting for me.

  Nell I won’t be a moment. Flora didn’t like mopers.

  Eric leaves her.

  (Quietly) Bye bye, darling … oh – damn!

  … because she has burst into sobs. She weeps unrestrainedly.

  Eric (returning) Oh … oh, I say …

  Nell Oh, I’m sorry.

  Eric No – please … can I …?

  Nell stops crying after a few moments.

  Nell I’ve messed up your coat. I’ve got a hanky somewhere.

  Eric Would you like to …? Here …

  Nell Yes. Thank you. (She uses his handkerchief.) I came too soon after all. I hated waiting a whole year but … well, anyway. Thank you, it’s a bit wet. Should I keep it? Oh look, I’ve found mine, we can swap.

  Eric Don’t you worry about anything. What a shame you had to come on your own. You have another sister, I believe. Or a brother?

  Nell No. Why?

  Eric Oh. Flora was anxious to return to England to be an aunt, she said.

  Nell Yes. I had a baby in October. He only lived a little while, unfortunately. There was something wrong.

  Eric Oh. I’m so sorry.

  Nell It’s why I couldn’t come before.

  Eric Yes, I see. What rotten luck. What was his name?

  Nell Sasha. Alexander, really. Alexander Percival Crewe. How nice of you to ask. Nobody ever does. I say, how about that blossom!

  Eric Yes, it’s quite a spot, isn’t it? I hope you stay a while. First time in India?

  Nell Yes.

  Eric Mind the loose stone here. May I …?

  Nell Thank you. I’m sorry I blubbed, Mr Swan.

  Eric I won’t tell anyone. Do call me Eric, by the way. Nobody calls me Mr Swan.

  Nell Eric, then.

  Eric Do you like cricket?

  Nell (laughs) Well, I don’t play a lot.

  Eric There’s a match tomorrow.

  Nell Here?

  Eric Oh yes. We’re going to field a Test team next year, you know.

  Nell We?

  Eric India.

  Nell Oh.

  As they go, Pike enters, looking for the right grave. He finds it, he takes his hat off and stands looking at it.

  Flora is on the verandah, placing the rolled-up canvas, Nirad Das’s portrait of her, into her suitcase.

  Flora ‘Darling, that’s all from Jummapur, because now I’m packed, portrait and all, and Mr Coomaraswami is coming to take me to the station.’ (She closes the suitcase. She holds on to her copy of the Emily Eden book.) ‘I’ll post this in Jaipur as soon as I get there. I’m not going to post it here because I’m not. I feel fit as two lops this morning, and happy, too, because something good happened here which made me feel halfway better about Modi and getting back to Paris too late. That was a sin I’ll carry to my grave, but perhaps my soul will stay behind as a smudge of paint on paper, as if I’d always been here, like Radha who was the most beautiful of the herdswomen, undressed for love in an empty house.’

  Elsewhere, Nell kneels on the floor, going through the contents of Flora’s suitcase. She looks at the blue dress briefly. She finds the rolled-up canvas. She looks at it and puts it back.

  Nazrul enters to take Flora’s suitcase to the train.

  The train makes its reappearance. Coomaraswami, holding his yellow parasol, is on the station platform to take leave of Flora. He garlands her. Nazrul puts Flora’s suitcase on the rack above her seat. Flora enters the train-compartment, gives Nazrul a tip, and bids him farewell.

  Nell finds Flora’s copy of the Emily Eden book in the suitcase. She opens it and finds the Rajah’s gift in the book. She replaces the ‘bookmark’ and glances through the book.

  During all these actions, following Pike’s speech, the voice of Flora reading Emily Eden is being heard. During Emily’s letter the train, in sound only, sets off on its journey, and Flora opens her copy of Emily Eden and begins to read to herself.

  Flora (recorded) ‘Simla, Saturday, May 25th, 1839. The Queen’s Ball “came off” yesterday with great success … Between the two tents there was a boarded platform for dancing, roped and arched in with flowers and then in different parts of the valley, wherever the trees would allow of it, there was “Victoria”,
“God Save The Queen” and “Candahar” in immense letters twelve feet high. There was a very old Hindu temple also prettily lit up. Vishnu, to whom I believe it really belonged, must have been affronted. We dined at six, then had fireworks, and coffee, and then they all danced till twelve. It was the most beautiful evening; such a moon, and the mountains looked so soft and grave, after all the fireworks and glare. Twenty years ago no European had ever been here, and there we were with a band playing, and observing that St Cloup’s Potage à la Julienne was perhaps better than his other soups, and that some of the ladies’ sleeves were too tight according to the overland fashions for March, and so on, and all this in the face of those high hills, and we one hundred and five Europeans being surrounded by at least three thousand mountaineers, who, wrapped up in their hill blankets, looked on at what we call our polite amusements, and bowed to the ground if a European came near them. I sometimes wonder they do not cut all our heads off and say nothing more about it.’

  The train clatters loudly and fades with the light.

  HAPGOOD

  For Oliver with love and thanks

  We choose to examine a phenomenon which is impossible, absolutely impossible, to explain in any classical way, and which has in it the heart of quantum mechanics. In reality it contains the only mystery … Any other situation in quantum mechanics, it turns out, can always be explained by saying, ‘You remember the case of the experiment with the two holes? It’s the same thing.’

  Richard P. Feynman

  ‘Lectures on Physics’/‘The Character of Physical Law’

  Characters

  Hapgood aged thirty-eight

  Blair probably twenty years older, but in good shape

  Kerner forty-ish

  Ridley mid-thirties

  Wates either side of forty-five

  Maggs twenties

  Merryweather twenty-two

  Joe eleven

  Russian any age, thirty to fifty

  Hapgood was first performed at the Aldwych Theatre, London, on 8 March 1988. The cast was as follows:

  Hapgood Felicity Kendal

  Blair Nigel Hawthorne

  Kerner Roger Rees

  Ridley Iain Glen

  Wates Al Matthews

  Merryweather Adam Norton