Love in Idleness / Less Than Kind
Page 6
St James’s Theatre,
21 June 1939
Follow My Leader
(with Anthony Maurice,
alias Tony Goldschmidt)
Apollo Theatre,
16 Jan 1940
Grey Farm
(with Hector Bolitho)
Hudson Theatre,
3 May 1940
Flare Path
Apollo Theatre,
13 Aug 1932
Henry Miller Theatre,
23 Dec 1942
While the Sun Shines
Globe Theatre,
24 Dec 1943
Lyceum Theatre,
19 Sept 1944
Love in Idleness
Lyric Theatre,
20 Dec 1944
Empire Theatre
(as O Mistress Mine),
23 Jan 1946
The Winslow Boy
Lyric Theatre,
23 May 1946
Empire Theatre,
29 Oct 1947
Playbill (The Browning
Version and Harlequinade)
Phoenix Theatre,
8 Sept 1948
Coronet Theatre,
12 Oct 1949
Adventure Story
St James’s Theatre,
17 March 1949
A Tale of Two Cities
(from Charles Dickens,
with John Gielgud)
St Brendan’s College
Dramatic Society,
Clifton, 23 Jan 1950
Who is Sylvia?
Criterion Theatre,
24 Oct 1950
Final Test (TV)
BBC TV, 29 July 1951
The Deep Blue Sea
Duchess Theatre,
6 Mar 1952
Morosco Theatre,
5 Nov 1952
The Sleeping Prince
Phoenix Theatre,
5 Nov 1953
Coronet Theatre,
1 Nov 1956
Seperate Tables (The Table
by the Window and Table
Number Seven)
St James’s Theatre,
22 Sept 1954
Music Box Theatre,
25 Oct 1956
Variation on a Theme
Globe Theatre,
8 May 1958
Ross
Theatre Royal Haymarket
12 May 1960
Eugene O’Neill Theatre
26 Dec 1961
Joie de Vivre (with
Robert Stolz and Paul Dehn)
Queen’s Theatre,
14 July 1960
Heart to Heart (TV)
BBC TV, 6 Dec 1962
Man and Boy
Queen’s Theatre,
4 Sept 1963
Brooks Atkinson Theatre, 12 Nov 1963
Ninety Years On (TV)
BBC TV, 29 Nov 1964
Nelson – A Portrait in
Miniature (TV)
Associated Television,
21 Mar 1966
All On Her Own (TV)
(adapted for the stage as
Duologue)
BBC 2, 25 Sept 1968
A Bequest to the Nation
Theatre Royal Haymarket
23 Sept 1970
High Summer (TV)
Thames TV, 12 Sept 1972
In Praise of Love (After
Lydia and Before Dawn)
Duchess Theatre,
27 Sept 1973
Morosco Theatre,
10 Dec 1974
Cause Célèbre (radio)
BBC Radio 4,
27 Oct 1975
Duologue
King’s Head Theatre,
21 Feb 1976
Cause Célèbre (stage)
Her Majesty’s Theatre,
4 July 1977
Less Than Kind
Jermyn Street Theatre,
20 January 2011
LOVE IN IDLENESS
To Henry Channon
Love in Idleness was first produced at the Lyric Theatre, London, on 20 December 1955, with the following cast:
OLIVIA BROWN
Lynn Fontanne
POLTON
Margaret Murray
MISS DELL
Peggy Dear
SIR JOHN FLETCHER
Alfred Lunt
MICHAEL BROWN
Brian Nissen
DIANA FLETCHER
Kathleen Kent
CELIA WENTWORTH
Mona Harrison
SIR THOMAS MARKHAM
Frank Forder
LADY MARKHAM
Antoinette Keith
Director
Alfred Lunt
Characters
OLIVIA BROWN
POLTON
MISS DELL
SIR JOHN FLETCHER
MICHAEL BROWN
DIANA FLETCHER
MISS CELIA WENTWORTH
SIR THOMAS MARKHAM
LADY MARKHAM
ACT ONE
A house in Westminster, London
ACT TWO
The same, four days later
ACT THREE
A flat in Barons Court, London, three months later
ACT ONE
About 7 p.m.
The sitting room of a house in Westminster. The furniture and decoration give an impression of tasteful opulence. There is a door, leading into a small room used as a study by SIR JOHN FLETCHER, and double doors, leading into the hall. There are large curtained windows upstage.
On the rise of the curtain, OLIVIA BROWN is lying on the sofa, telephoning.
She is wearing a negligee. The telephone is resting on her stomach, and her engagement book is on her lap. She looks comfortable and happy. On the floor in front of her are a pile of magazines in some disorder. As the curtain goes up she is dialling a number and Big Ben is heard striking the half-hour.
OLIVIA (into phone). Treasury? Extension 35987 please… Hullo, Dicky? Olivia. Is there a chance of a word with the Chancellor?… Don’t give me that. If I know him he’s in the middle of a nice game of Battleships with you at this moment… Well, I won’t keep him a second. Are you afraid I’ll make him drop a stitch in his budget or something?… Go on, Dicky… All right, you can take me out on Friday week… Right. (After a pause.) Sir Thomas? This is Olivia Brown. I’m so sorry to disturb you when I know you must be so busy. It’s about Thursday night. You can come, can’t you?… Oh, that is a shame, I’m so disappointed. Celia Wentworth, the novelist, is simply aching to meet you. She’s simply mad about your memoirs. She says she thinks you’re wasting your talents as a politician. You ought to have been a writer… Oh, that’s sweet of you. Thank you so much. She would have been heartbroken… Yes, eight-thirty. I’m very grateful. Goodbye.
OLIVIA rings off. At once the telephone rings.
Hullo?… Miss Wentworth? I’ve been trying to get you all day. This is Olivia Brown speaking; could you dine on Thursday night? Do come… come after the ballet, then… half-past eight. I can’t leave it any later because John may have to get back to the Ministry… Well, you’ll just have to cut the last ballet that’s all. What is it?… Oh, my dear, you don’t want to see that again… all those great swans chasing that absurd young man… I’ve got the Chancellor of the Exchequer coming and he’s such an admirer of yours… Yes, he absolutely worships your Resplendent Valley… You will? Splendid… Yes, eight-thirty. You know the address, don’t you? You’ll find it in the book under Fletcher… John Fletcher… That’s right.
She rings off again and begins to write in her notebook. After a short pause the telephone rings again.
Hullo… Who wants her?… Oh, hullo, Joan darling, I didn’t recognise your voice… No, really?… Oh, John never tells me a thing. I rely on you for all my information… Well, who’ll be the new Under-Secretary for War?… No! Not poor old Freddy?… Oh, I am glad. Off the dust heap at last! Laura will be delighted. I’ll give her a ring… It just shows how right he’s been to have sat there all those years looking stern and saying nothing�
� Oh, no, darling, he wasn’t thinking anything, either. I’m sure you’re wrong. He was never a Liberal. He was super’d from Eton… Super’d?… Removed for not being in a high enough form… Never even got a prize. No Cabinet Minister ever does. I always feel so sorry for the little boys who get prizes – marked for failure before they start…
POLTON, a middle-aged, highly respectable-looking parlourmaid, comes in with a telegram on a salver. OLIVIA nods to her to open it.
Oh well, of course, John’s different. He went to one of those Canadian co-educational establishments and he graduated, or whatever they call it, wonderfully high: but then he did play ice hockey very well and, of course, he doesn’t count, being only a wartime Cabinet Minister…
She has read the telegram and now gives a shriek.
POLTON hesitates in the doorway.
Oh!… Sorry, darling, it’s the most wonderful news. It’s a wire from Michael… my little son, he’s arrived in England.
POLTON goes out.
(Reading.) ‘Arrived safely. See you late tonight.’ I knew he was on his way from Canada, but I didn’t know he’d sailed. They never tell you a thing… No, I haven’t seen him for five years. I sent him over in ’39… (Calling.) Polton! Polton! (Into phone.) Darling, I must ring off, do you mind? I feel too excited… I’ll ring you tomorrow morning.
POLTON comes in again.
Polton, my son has arrived in England.
POLTON (smiling benignly). Yes, madam, I heard you saying so on the telephone. I’m so glad.
She takes the telephone from OLIVIA and puts it on the table.
OLIVIA. Thank you, Polton. It really is wonderful news. (Re-reads the telegram.) Silly boy! Why didn’t he say which station he was arriving at, and I could have gone to meet him –
POLTON. I suppose there’ll be someone with the little chap to look after him, won’t there, madam?
OLIVIA. Oh no, I don’t think so.
POLTON (appalled). You don’t mean he’s come all that way from Canada all by his little self?
OLIVIA. He’s not quite such a little self as all that, you know. He’s – well, let me see – he was over twelve when he went away, so now he must be – anyway, quite old enough to look after himself.
POLTON ( gazing at OLIVIA). Mercy! I’d never have believed it, I will say.
OLIVIA. Thank you, Polton. (Crosses to mirror.) Tell Cook to have something cold left out and have the little room next to mine got ready.
MISS DELL comes in.
MISS DELL (to POLTON). I’ve finished in the study. Goodnight, Polton.
OLIVIA. Oh, Miss Dell –
MISS DELL ( to OLIVIA). Would you tell Sir John that if he wishes to work late tonight I shall be free from eight-thirty onwards, and that I’ve also left some papers on his desk to sign.
OLIVIA. I do hope he won’t have to work late again. Don’t you think he’s looking tired, Miss Dell?
MISS DELL. I was going on to say, Mrs Brown, that I hope you’ll be able to exert your influence on him and try to get him to let up just a little. After all, we don’t want him cracking up on us, do we?
OLIVIA. I’ll try to exert my influence. My little son Michael has just arrived in England.
MISS DELL. Oh, I am glad. That will be nice for you. (Moves to the door.) And would you tell him, too, that RMB3 have been through twice, and want him to ring them most urgently?
OLIVIA (absently). Yes. Where do you think he’ll come in; Glasgow, Liverpool?
MISS DELL. I really couldn’t say, but I’ll certainly find out. And his wife’s solicitors want an answer by tomorrow.
OLIVIA. Oh yes. What about?
MISS DELL. The Barton and Burgess affair.
OLIVIA. What’s that?
MISS DELL. Sir John will know.
OLIVIA. Come on, tell me.
MISS DELI. It’s not at all important. You won’t forget RMB3, will you? It’s vital he rings them as soon as he comes in.
OLIVIA. I’ll see he does.
MISS DELL. I’m off to collect a report he particularly wants tonight.
In case I don’t see you again, goodnight, Mrs Brown. OLIVIA. Goodnight, Miss Dell.
Exit MISS DELL.
POLTON comes in from study.
Polton, I’m afraid Sir John will have to stay at his Club tonight, so you’d better have his bag packed. I did ask you to tell Cook to have something to eat left out for my son, didn’t I?
POLTON. Yes, madam, I was going to get Cook to make him a nice milk pudding.
OLIVIA. Oh. Don’t you think something a little more substantial?
POLTON. Well, madam, if he’s very late we don’t want anything to sit too heavily on his little tummy, do we?
OLIVIA (delighted). No, I suppose we don’t – except that as I’ve told you, Polton, it really isn’t such a little tummy as all that. It may even be quite a big tummy by now.
POLTON. Oh, no, madam.
OLIVIA. Well, I don’t know, Polton. Isn’t it funny not to know what one’s own son looks like? I think we’d better make it cold meat and salad.
POLTON. Very good, madam, if you think so.
The telephone rings.
OLIVIA (picking up the receiver). Hullo… No, he’s out at the moment. Who wants him? Well, have you tried him at the Ministry?… Oh, I see. Well, I’m expecting him at any minute. He usually comes in about this time… No, I’m afraid his secretary has just gone out… Can’t I give him a message?… No, this isn’t Lady Fletcher… I see. If he comes in before six-thirty you want him to ring you…
JOHN has come in in time to hear OLIVIA’s last words. He is a man, about forty-five, dressed in formal clothes. He takes the receiver from OLIVIA.
JOHN. Fletcher here –
OLIVIA. Oh, hullo, darling.
She gives him an affectionate peck on the cheek and then wanders over to a tray on which is a decanter of whisky and some glasses. She is pouring out a drink while JOHN continues on the telephone.
JOHN. I see… Yes, well, I’m afraid I can’t give the specifications until I see the report…
OLIVIA. Whisky?
He nods.
JOHN. … I should have had it this afternoon… No, but one of my secretaries is fetching it now. I’ll read it tonight and get in touch with you first thing tomorrow. Thank you… Goodbye.
He rings off.
OLIVIA (from the drink table). Darling, you mustn’t work late again tonight.
JOHN. Why not?
OLIVIA. Miss Dell thinks you’re looking very tired and I agree with her.
JOHN. By the way, did Miss Dell leave any messages for me?
OLIVIA. Oh, yes, and one very important one. You’re to call up your wife’s solicitors.
JOHN. Oh, yes? (Begins to take off his shoes.)
OLIVIA. You’re to give them an answer tomorrow morning on the Barton and Burgess affair.
JOHN. I see.
OLIVIA. Darling, what is the Barton and Burgess affair?
JOHN. Barton and Burgess are my wife’s bookmakers. She incurred a very large debt with them, mostly after we were separated. Her solicitors think I should pay. I don’t. That is the Barton and Burgess affair. Any other messages?
OLIVIA. No, I don’t think so. Darling, I think you ought to pay that debt, don’t you?
JOHN. Frankly, no. She receives a very handsome settlement, and can well afford to pay her own racing debts. Are you sure there weren’t any other messages?
OLIVIA Wait a minute, now. There was a thing you had to ring up. Three letters and a figure. R something. Darling, don’t you think if you paid that bill it would avoid a lot of unpleasantness?
She sits on sofa and gives him his glass.
JOHN. That’s not the way I see it. Do you think you can possibly remember what the other two letters and the figure are of the thing that I have to ring up?
OLIVIA. Now let me see. There was an R and a B, I think.
JOHN. RBY4?
OLIVIA That’s right. You’re to ring them up at once.
JOHN reaches a hand for the telephone.
Or was it RMB3?
JOHN (patiently). Or possibly BRF6?
OLIVIA. Yes. No. It’s no good. I can’t remember.
JOHN. Well, it doesn’t matter. They’ll call again. I shall be sitting up all night working, anyway.
OLIVIA (disturbed). Oh, oh –
JOHN. What’s the matter?
OLIVIA. I’m afraid, if you really insist on sitting up all night, it won’t be here, but at your Club.
JOHN. Why?
OLIVIA. Michael’s arrived.
JOHN. Michael?
OLIVIA. He’ll be home in a few hours. JOHN. Oh. Your son?
OLIVIA nods.
I’m very glad.
OLIVIA. You don’t look very glad.
JOHN. For your sake, I mean.
OLIVIA. Oh, darling, you’ll find him most companionable. He’s mad about politics. He’s the head speaker of his little organisation. Terribly amusing. You’ll love him, you know.
JOHN. Do you think he’ll love me?
OLIVIA. Of course he will.
JOHN. What makes you so certain?
OLIVIA. I do, so he will.
JOHN. So I’m to stay at my Club as long as Michael is in the neighbourhood?
OLIVIA. Oh, no. Of course not. Just for tonight.
JOHN. I can come back tomorrow?
OLIVIA. Yes, of course.
JOHN. Tell me, how old is he, by the way?
OLIVIA. Over sixteen.
JOHN. I thought he’d come back to join up.
OLIVIA. Yes, he has.
JOHN. Then he must be over seventeen.
OLIVIA. Perhaps he is.
JOHN. Don’t you know the age of your own son?
OLIVIA. No, darling, not exactly. Let me see, now – He was twelve when we sent him away at the beginning of the war –