MICHAEL. Yes. Right-ho. By the way, it’s jolly good of you to come.
DIANA. You said it was a matter of life or death, and that I was to learn something to my particular advantage – or something –
MICHAEL. Well, that’s true. I’ll tell you – (Puts his hand to his collar and realises the loss of his tie.) Oh, excuse me a second. (Quickly goes to the waste-paper basket, retrieves his tie, and puts it on hurriedly.) I’m frightfully sorry. I don’t know what you must have thought of me – without a tie –
DIANA. Do you usually keep your ties in the waste-paper basket?
MICHAEL. No, of course not. My mother took it away from me – so I threw it there.
DIANA. Oh, I see.
MICHAEL (coming back to her). As a matter of fact, it’s jolly lucky everyone’s out for the moment. I thought I’d probably have to smuggle you up to my bedroom.
DIANA. Oh? Really?
MICHAEL (confused). I mean – that’s to say – just to talk, you know – I didn’t mean – you know –
DIANA gets up.
DIANA. Look, Mr Brown, it’s been most awfully nice meeting you, but I think, if you don’t mind, I’d better be going –
MICHAEL (urgently). Oh no. Please don’t. Please. You’ll regret it forever afterwards if you do.
DIANA. Well, then, will you kindly say what you have to say to me –
MICHAEL. Yes. Okay. (Dramatically). Lady Fletcher, do you know whose house this is?
DIANA. No – I don’t think so – whose?
MICHAEL. Your husband’s.
DIANA. John’s? Is it really? It doesn’t look like his taste. (In sudden alarm.) You mean he’s left Berkeley Square – and this is where he’s living now?
MICHAEL. I don’t know about Berkeley Square – but this is certainly where he’s living now.
DIANA (on her feet again). Now I’ve got to go. I’m definitely not going to run into John, if I can help it.
MICHAEL. No, please. There’s no danger. He’s at his office – he’ll be there for hours.
DIANA unwillingly sits down again.
I do understand how you must feel about seeing him again, after the way he’s treated you.
DIANA cocks a curious eyebrow at MICHAEL, but says nothing.
You said a moment ago this room didn’t look like your husband’s taste. You’re quite right. It isn’t his taste. Do you know whose taste it is?
DIANA. No. Whose? Yours?
MICHAEL. No, no, not mine.
DIANA. Whose, then?
MICHAEL. I’m afraid what I have to say to you may come as a great shock – do you mind?
DIANA (puzzled). No.
MICHAEL (sibilantly). It’s his mistress’s taste.
DIANA. In the plural or the singular?
MICHAEL (sympathetically). I’m glad you take it like that – with icy poise. In the singular.
DIANA. Oh, I see. You mean this is where he lives with that – what’s her name, now – I’ve heard such a lot about her – Olivia Brown. (Starts suddenly.) Olivia – Brown.
MICHAEL. Exactly.
DIANA. Your sister?
MICHAEL. No. My mother.
DIANA. Good God!
MICHAEL. Now, perhaps you see why I asked you to come round.
DIANA. No, I don’t, I’m afraid.
MICHAEL. I want you to meet my mother and talk to her.
DIANA. Good Lord, no!
MICHAEL. Please, Lady Fletcher. It’s terribly important. Swallow your pride and confront her.
DIANA. Confront her?
MICHAEL. Yes, reason with her. I’m sure you could get her to see how wrong it all is.
DIANA. How wrong all what is?
MICHAEL. What’s she’s doing, of course.
DIANA. Oh, do make sense. What is she doing – for heaven’s sake?
MICHAEL. Living in sin with your husband.
DIANA begins to see daylight. She laughs softly and resumes her seat.
DIANA. Oh, that is really rather charming.
MICHAEL. How do you mean – ‘charming’?
DIANA. You want me to confront your mother and reason with her?
MICHAEL. That’s right.
DIANA. Get her to see the error of her ways?
MICHAEL. Well – yes.
DIANA. Tell her to stop being a bad, bad woman.
MICHAEL (hurt). Please don’t make a joke of it. It’s awfully important, you know – to me anyway.
DIANA (contrite). I’m sorry, Mr Brown. I didn’t mean to make a joke of it. Forgive me.
MICHAEL. That’s all right. I understand your being hard and bitter. Anyone would be, after all you’ve been through.
DIANA (faintly confused). Er – yes, but look, I’m afraid I can’t very well confront your mother and reason with her, because you see, it really isn’t any business of mine –
MICHAEL. But of course it’s your business. After all, it’s your husband who’s her paramour.
DIANA laughs.
What are you laughing at?
DIANA. Nothing. It just seemed a funny word to use in connection with John, that’s all.
MICHAEL. Well, it’s true anyway, isn’t it?
DIANA. Oh yes, it’s true. But if you don’t mind my saying it, Mr Brown, I think perhaps you’re worrying about something that isn’t quite as important as you believe it is. If two people are in love and can’t get married, and live together, it isn’t really so terribly shocking, you know, these days –
MICHAEL. Oh, I know all that. And I’m not shocked exactly – not just because they’re living in sin, anyway.
DIANA. That phrase is a bit misleading too, you know –
MICHAEL. Well, whatever you call it. I tell you I’m not shocked at that. I know about life. Nelson and Lady Hamilton, Pericles and Aspasia, Louis XV and Madame Pompadour – all that’s all right. But this is different.
DIANA. Why?
MICHAEL. Well, after all – it’s my mother.
DIANA. Yes, but why does that make it so different?
MICHAEL. But she can’t be in love with him.
DIANA. Why not?
MICHAEL. But she can’t be. She’s over thirty-five.
DIANA. People have fallen in love even as old as that, you know.
MICHAEL. Oh no. She’s infatuated with him, that’s all. It’s his money. You see, she’s not used to this luxury and it sort of dazzles her. Besides, she’s not meant for this sort of life.
DIANA. What is she meant for, then?
MICHAEL. Well, all I can tell you is, she was quite different in Barons Court.
DIANA. People are apt to be quite different in Barons Court. (Interested.) Barons Court, eh? (Looks around the room.) Not bad, I will say.
MICHAEL (violently). I hate her being the parasite of a rich voluptuary. (Contrite.) I’m awfully sorry. I didn’t mean to speak about your husband like that.
DIANA (cheerfully). Oh, that’s quite all right. Rich voluptuary. I must remember that.
MICHAEL. You’re not in love with him any more?
DIANA. No. It’s a moot point whether I ever was.
MICHAEL. I don’t blame you. I don’t understand what any woman can see in him. Still, I hoped you would be still in love with him.
DIANA. Why?
MICHAEL. You could have appealed to my mother to give him back to you. She’s not wholly bad, you know.
DIANA (smiling). Isn’t she?
MICHAEL. Not really. Not at heart. (After a faint pause.) At least, I don’t think so –
DIANA smiles. She walks forward and puts a friendly hand on his arm.
DIANA. Poor Mr Brown. Are you very unhappy about it all?
MICHAEL (forlornly). Oh no, not really.
DIANA. Well, don’t worry too much. I’m sure it’ll all come all right in the end.
MICHAEL (looking at her). How old are you?
DIANA (plainly taken aback). Is that awfully important?
MICHAEL. No. I suppose I shouldn’t ask. Only you’re so much yo
unger than I thought you were going to be. More attractive, too – though I suppose I shouldn’t say that either.
DIANA. Oh yes, you should. Thank you, Mr Brown.
OLIVIA comes in, dressed very smartly for her dinner party. She stops at the sight of DIANA, whom evidently she does not recognise, and her face automatically assumes a social smile.
OLIVIA. I’m so sorry, Michael. I had no idea you had company.
She advances on DIANA with a warm welcoming smile.
DIANA evidently meditates flight and thinks better of it.
MICHAEL. She is my mother – Lady Fletcher.
OLIVIA (with barely a flicker of surprise). Oh, how do you do.
DIANA. How do you do.
MICHAEL (annoyed at his mother’s composure). Lady Fletcher is Sir John’s wife, Mum.
OLIVIA (with a gay smile). Yes, dear, of course. (To DIANA.) How nice of you to drop in on us like this.
DIANA. Well, the truth is, Mrs Brown, I didn’t really drop in on you. I was – invited, by your son –
OLIVIA. Oh, really? Where did you two run into each other?
MICHAEL. We didn’t –
DIANA (drowning his voice). In Hyde Park. Wasn’t it funny?
OLIVIA. Amazing. Quite amazing.
DIANA. Of course, I had simply no idea – when he said his name was Brown – that he –
OLIVIA. Yes, of course, I quite understand. It’s such a common name, isn’t it? Anyway, now that you are here, do make yourself comfortable and have a drink, will you?
DIANA. It’s very kind of you, but I don’t think I will, if you don’t mind –
OLIVIA. Oh, but you must. I insist.
She practically forces DIANA into a chair.
DIANA (weakly). Well – it’ll have to be very, very quick, I’m afraid. I have people waiting for me and –
OLIVIA. Sherry, or gin or whisky? I can recommend the sherry, it’s pre-war. Oh, but of course, you must remember this brand very well. John has had it for years.
DIANA. I’d love a glass of sherry, thank you.
OLIVIA pours out a glass. MICHAEL retires to the window and watches the ensuing scene gloomily.
OLIVIA. It’s so nice, Lady Fletcher, to have a chance of meeting you like this at long last. Naturally, I’ve heard so much about you from John –
DIANA (with embarrassed bravado). I’ve heard a lot about you too, Mrs Brown.
OLIVIA (politely). Oh, really? Now who could that be from, I wonder –
DIANA. Oh – mutual friends, you know.
OLIVIA. I had no idea we had any. Well, isn’t that extraordinary. You recognise the sherry?
DIANA. Yes. It’s as good as it ever was. As a matter of fact, I know someone who used to see quite a lot of you when you lived in Kensington.
OLIVIA (with apparent interest). Oh, really? Who was that?
DIANA. Johnny Forsythe –
OLIVIA. Forsythe? No, I don’t remember the name. Perhaps he was one of my husband’s patients. He was a dentist, you know, and we didn’t live in Kensington, we lived in Barons Court –
DIANA. Barons Court? Now, that’s getting on towards Putney, isn’t it?
OLIVIA. A stone’s throw. Where are you living now, Lady Fletcher?
DIANA. Grosvenor House. I’ve got a furnished flat –
OLIVIA. Oh, how delightful, but how extravagant. Don’t you find it costs you the earth? Oh, but then I suppose you manage it all quite easily out of your winnings at horse racing. We go to the same bookmakers, you know. Barton and Burgess, and I’m always hearing about your prowess at picking winners from them.
DIANA. Really? I’m afraid I haven’t been quite as lucky lately as I used to be. Still, my flat isn’t one of the big ones, you know. My sitting room isn’t anything like as grand as this, for instance.
OLIVIA (surprised). This? You call this grand? I was just going to apologise to you for the way it was looking.
DIANA. You don’t need to. I was telling your son how very much I admired it.
OLIVIA. Oh, that is sweet of you. You must come some day when you have time and see over the whole house. Of course, John and I haven’t been able to do all we’d like to do to it, you know, but with the war, you see, and John working so hard, we both felt it right not to do much more at the moment than stick a few odd bits of furniture in and just make do until the end of the war.
DIANA (looking round). Yes, I see. Of course, we all have to make our little sacrifices these days, don’t we? Well, I must go. I should love to see over the rest of the house some time.
OLIVIA. Oh, but my dear, I shall be very ashamed of it when you do. You’ll see that I haven’t been able to do anything like what I’m sure you would have done to it, if you’d had the chance. But then John seems very happy in it, and that I think is really the main thing, don’t you?
DIANA. Yes, indeed. Well, goodbye, Mrs Brown. Perhaps you’ll drop in on me, some time. I can’t offer you sherry, I’m afraid, but if I’m lucky I can give you a little gin.
OLIVIA. Oh, but that is nice of you. I adore gin. My dear, may I say how much I admire that hat?
DIANA. Oh, do you? Aage Thaarup made it for me. He’s so clever, don’t you think?
OLIVIA. Quite brilliant. I really must start going to him again. Well, goodbye.
They are shaking hands again and beaming at each other as
JOHN walks in.
JOHN. Diana!
DIANA. Hullo, John.
JOHN. What is the meaning of this?
OLIVIA (quickly). The most extraordinary coincidence, dear. She ran into Michael in the park and came back with him without any idea in the world –
JOHN. Oh, did she?
MICHAEL (walking forward). That’s not true. She only said that to shield me. I rang her up and asked her to come round.
OLIVIA (quickly). Silly boy! What does it matter, anyway, whether you rang her up or ran into her in the park? (To DIANA.) I’m afraid I have a lunatic son, Lady Fletcher. You really must forgive him.
DIANA. But of course I forgive him. We’ve become firm friends – haven’t we – Mr Brown?
MICHAEL (eagerly). I hope so –
OLIVIA. He gets the most extraordinary ideas and fancies. Of course, he’s at that rather awkward age, you know. (To JOHN.) Your wife has to fly, I’m afraid, John. She has friends waiting for her.
JOHN. Oh.
DIANA. How are you, John?
JOHN. Very well, thank you, Diana. How are you?
DIANA. Oh, bearing up.
JOHN. I must apologise to you profoundly for any embarrassment this incident has caused you.
DIANA. Oh, but not at all. I’ve enjoyed it.
OLIVIA. Show Lady Fletcher out, Michael.
MICHAEL (with a sigh). Okay.
He goes out into the hall.
DIANA. Goodbye, John. Nice seeing you again. Goodbye once more, Mrs Brown. Don’t be too angry with your son, will you? He means awfully well, you know.
She goes out. OLIVIA collapses on to the edge of a chair, exhausted.
OLIVIA (weakly). You shouldn’t have said that about embarrassment, John.
JOHN (angrily). Well – what is the point of trying to pass off a situation like that with small talk?
OLIVIA. There’s no situation in the world that can’t be passed off with small talk.
JOHN. How long were you with her?
OLIVIA. Only about five minutes. You’d have been quite proud of me, John. I held my own, anyway.
JOHN. Only held your own?
OLIVIA. Perhaps a little more. She had a smack at me about Barons Court, so I had one back at her about Barton and Burgess. I was a little ashamed of it, but after all, I had to let her see who was who. (With a little laugh.) Who was who? That’s rather funny too when you think it out. (Sighs wearily.) Anyway, I don’t think I’ve ever had a worse five minutes in all my life.
JOHN. It must have been horrible for you. I’m most terribly sorry.
MICHAEL comes back, looking sullen. OLIVIA
and JOHN both turn and look at him. There is a pause.
MICHAEL (defiantly). Well, it didn’t work, did it?
JOHN (at length). Now look here, young man, you and I are going upstairs to have a little talk –
MICHAEL (with an attempt at insolence). Are we? That will be interesting.
JOHN (grimly). It’s going to be a good deal more interesting than you think.
MICHAEL shrugs his shoulders, turns his back on JOHN and wanders over to the window, hands in pockets.
(Losing his temper.) And when I speak to you, don’t turn your back on me, and don’t keep your hands in your pockets and take that superior smirk off your face, or by heaven –
OLIVIA (rising, with sudden force). Stop it, John. Stop it, for God’s sake.
JOHN (bewildered). What?
OLIVIA. Leave this to me! Go upstairs and get ready for dinner, will you? I’ll talk to him.
JOHN. Look here, Olivia – I’ve put up with an awful lot in these last few days –
OLIVIA. I know, dear, and I’m sorry – but do what I say – there’s a dear –
JOHN (after a pause, furiously). Very well, I’m sure you think you know best.
He marches out and closes the door with something of a slam. Left alone, OLIVIA stares a little wearily at MICHAEL’s uncompromising back.
OLIVIA. Michael?
MICHAEL. Yes?
OLIVIA. Come and sit here.
He walks over and sits beside her on the sofa. He does not look at her.
(After a pause). I wish I could read your mind.
MICHAEL. I don’t think you’d like it if you could.
OLIVIA. I might and I might not. Sometimes you seem to be playing a game with John and me and yourself – and that’s when I’m angry with you. At other times – well – I’m not so sure. I don’t want you to be unhappy, you know.
MICHAEL. I’m not. Don’t worry.
OLIVIA. John says you’re not, too. He says you’re enjoying every moment of it.
MICHAEL turns slowly and looks at her for the first time.
MICHAEL. Did he say that?
OLIVIA. He said you were play-acting and I must admit I agreed with him.
MICHAEL (with difficulty). I might have been play-acting sometimes – I don’t know.
OLIVIA. Darling – there you are, you see –
MICHAEL. But if I have, it’s because I’ve had to. (Through set teeth.) What chance have I got fighting a man like that on level terms?
OLIVIA. But why do you feel you have to fight him?
Love in Idleness / Less Than Kind Page 21
