DIANA. This is my brother Willy.
DISSON. I'm very glad to meet you.
WILLY. And I you. Congratulations.
DISSON. Thank you.
DIANA (giving him a drink). Here you are, Robert.
DISSON. Thanks. Cheers.
DIANA. Cheers.
WILLY. To tomorrow.
DISSON. Yes.
They drink.
I'm afraid we've run into a bit of trouble.
DIANA. Why?
DISSON. I've lost my best man.
DIANA. Oh no.
DISSON (to WILLY). My oldest friend. Man called Disley. Gastric flu. Can't make it tomorrow.
WILLY. Oh dear.
DISSON. He was going to make a speech at the reception – in my honour. A superb speech. I read it. Now he can't make it.
Pause.
WILLY. Isn't there anyone else you know?
DISSON. Yes, of course. But not like him . . . you see. I mean, he was the natural choice.
DIANA. How infuriating.
Pause.
WILLY. Well, look, I can be your best man, if you like.
DIANA. How can you, Willy? You're giving me away.
WILLY. Oh yes.
DISSON. Oh, the best man's not important; you can always get a best man – all he's got to do is stand there; it's the speech that's important, the speech in honour of the groom. Who's going to make the speech?
Pause.
WILLY. Well, I can make the speech, if you like.
DISSON. But how can you make a speech in honour of the groom when you're making one in honour of the bride?
WILLY. Does that matter?
DIANA. No. Why does it?
DISSON. Yes, but look . . . I mean, thanks very much . . . but the fact is . . . that you don't know me, do you? I mean we've only just met. Disley knows me well, that's the thing, you see. His speech centred around our long-standing friendship. I mean, what he knew of my character . . .
WILLY. Yes, of course, of course. No, look, all I'm saying is that I’m willing to have a crack at it if there's no other solution. Willing to come to the aid of the party, as it were.
DIANA. He is a wonderful speaker, Robert.
Wedding reception. Private room. Exclusive restaurant.
DISSON, DIANA, WILLY, DISSON’S PARENTS, DISSON’S SONS. WILLY is speaking.
WILLY. I remember the days my sister and I used to swim together in the lake at Sunderley. The grace of her crawl, even then, as a young girl. I can remember those long summer evenings at Sunderley, my mother and I crossing the lawn towards the terrace and through the great windows hearing my sister play Brahms. The delicacy of her touch. My mother and I would, upon entering the music room, gaze in silence at Diana's long fingers moving in exquisite motion on the keys. As for our father, our father knew no pleasure keener than watching his daughter at her needlework. A man whose business was the State's, a man eternally active, his one great solace from the busy world would be to sit for hours on end at a time watching his beloved daughter ply her needle. Diana – my sister – was the dear grace of our household, the flower, the blossom, and the bloom. One can only say to the groom: Groom, your fortune is immeasurable.
Applause. DIANA kisses him.
DISSON shakes his hand warmly.
TOASTMASTER. My lords, reverend gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, pray silence for Mr William Pierrepoint Torrance, who will propose the toast in honour of the groom.
WILLY turns. Applause.
WILLY. I have not known Robert for a long time, in fact I have known him only for a very short time. But in that short time I have found him to be a man of integrity, honesty and humility. After a modest beginning, he has built his business up into one of the proudest and most vigorous in the land. And this – almost alone. Now he has married a girl who equals, if not surpasses, his own austere standards of integrity. He has married my sister, who possesses within her that rare and uncommon attribute known as inner beauty, not to mention the loveliness of her exterior. Par excellence as a woman with a needle, beyond excellence as a woman of taste, discernment, sensibility and imagination. An excellent swimmer who, in all probability, has the beating of her husband in the two hundred metres breast stroke.
Laughter and applause.
WILLY waits for silence.
It is to our parents that she owes her candour, her elegance of mind, her sensibilité. Our parents, who, though gone, have not passed from us, but who are here now on this majestic day, and offer you their welcome, the bride their love, and the groom their congratulations.
Applause. DIANA kisses him.
DISSON shakes his hand warmly.
DISSON. Marvellous.
WILLY. Diana, I want to tell you something.
DIANA. What?
WILLY. You have married a good man. He will make you happy.
DIANA. I know.
DISSON. Wonderful speeches. Wonderful. Listen. What are you doing these days?
WILLY. Nothing much.
TOASTMASTER. My lords . . .
DISSON (whispering). How would you like to come in with me for a bit? See how you like it, how you get on. Be my second in command. Office of your own. Plenty of room for initiative.
TOASTMASTER. My lords, reverend gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen –
WILLY. Marvellous idea. I'll say yes at once.
DISSON. Good.
DIANA kisses DISSON.
DIANA. Darling.
TOASTMASTER. Pray silence for the groom.
DISSON moves forward.
Applause. Silence.
DISSON. This is the happiest day of my life.
Sumptuous hotel room. Italy.
The light is on. The camera rests at the foot of the bed. The characters are not seen. Their voices heard only.
DISSON. Are you happy?
DIANA. Yes.
DISSON. Very happy?
DIANA. Yes.
DISSON. Have you ever been happier? With any other man?
DIANA. Never.
Pause.
DISSON. I make you happy, don't I? Happier than you've ever been . . . with any other man.
DIANA. Yes. You do.
Pause.
Yes.
Silence.
Disson’s house. Workroom.
DISSON at his workbench. With sandpaper and file he is putting the finishing touches to a home-made model yacht. He completes the job, dusts the yacht, sets it on a shelf and looks at it with satisfaction.
Disson’s house. Breakfast room. Morning.
DISSON and DIANA at the table.
DISSON. Your eyes are shining.
Pause.
They're shining.
DIANA. Mmmnnn.
DISSON. They've been shining for months.
DIANA (smiling). My eyes? Have they?
DISSON. Every morning.
Pause.
I’m glad you didn't many that . . . Jerry . . . whatever-hisnamewas . . .
DIANA. Oh, him . . .
DISSON. Why didn't you?
DIANA. He was weak.
Pause.
DISSON. I’m not weak.
DIANA. No.
DISSON. Am I?
He takes her hand.
DIANA. You're strong.
THE TWINS enter the room.
THE TWINS mutter, ‘Morning’.
DIANA and DISSON say ‘Good Morning’.
Silence. THE TWINS sit. DIANA pours tea for them. They butter toast, take marmalade, begin to eat.
Silence.
Would you like eggs?
TOM. No, thanks.
DIANA. John?
Silence.
DISSON. John!
JOHN. What?
DISSON. Don't say what!
JOHN. What shall I say?
DIANA. Would you like eggs?
Pause.
JOHN. Oh.
Pause.
No, thanks.
The boys giggle and eat. Silence.
JOHN whispers to TOM.
<
br /> DISSON. What are you saying? Speak up.
JOHN. Nothing.
DISSON. Do you think I'm deaf?
TOM. I've never thought about it.
DISSON. I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to John.
JOHN. Me? Sorry, sir.
DISSON. Now don't be silly. You've never called me sir before. That's rather a daft way to address your father.
JOHN. Uncle Willy called his father sir. He told me.
DISSON. Yes, but you don't call me sir! Do you understand?
Willy's office. Morning.
DISSON leads WILLY in.
DISSON. Here you are, Willy. This’ll be your office. How'd you like it?
WILLY. First rate.
DISSON. These two offices are completely cut off from the rest of the staff. They're all on the lower floor. Our only contact is by intercom, unless I need to see someone personally, which is rare. Equally, I dislike fraternization between the two offices. We shall meet only by strict arrangement, otherwise we'll never get any work done. That suit you?
WILLY. Perfectly.
DISSON. There was a man in here, but I got rid of him.
DISSON leads WILLY through a communicating door into his own office.
Disson's office.
On a side table coffee is set for two.
DISSON goes to the table and pours.
DISSON. I think I should explain to you the sort of man I am. I'm a thorough man. I like things to be done and done well. I don't like dithering. I don't like indulgence. I don't like self-doubt. I don't like fuzziness. I like clarity. Clear intention. Precise execution. Black or white?
WILLY. White, please.
DISSON. But I've no patience with conceit and self-regard. A man's job is to assess his powers coolly and correctly and equally the powers of others. Having done this, he can proceed to establish a balanced and reasonable relationship with his fellows. In my view, living is a matter of active and willing participation. So is work. Sugar?
WILLY. Two, please.
DISSON. Now, dependence isn't a word I would use lightly, but I will use it and I don't regard it as a weakness. To understand the meaning of the term dependence is to understand that one's powers are limited and that to live with others is not only sensible but the only way work can be done and dignity achieved. Nothing is more sterile or lamentable than the man content to live within himself. I've always made it my business to be on the most direct possible terms with the members of my staff and the body of my business associates. And by my example opinions are declared freely, without shame or deception. It seems to me essential that we cultivate the ability to operate lucidly upon our problems and therefore be in a position to solve them. That's why your sister loves me. I don't play about at the periphery of matters. I go right to the centre. I believe life can be conducted efficiently. I never waste my energies in any kind of timorous expectation. Neither do I ask to be loved. I expect to be given only what I've worked for. If you make a plum pudding, what do you do with it? You don't shove it up on a shelf. You stick a knife into it and eat it. Everything has a function. In other words, if we're to work together we must appreciate that interdependence is the key word, that it's your job to understand me and mine to understand you. Agreed?
WILLY. Absolutely.
DISSON. Now, the first thing you need is a secretary. We’ll get on to it at once.
WILLY. Can I suggest someone? I know she's very keen and, I’d say, very competent.
DISSON. Who?
WILLY. My sister.
Pause.
DISSON. Your sister? You mean my wife?
WILLY. She told me she'd love to do it.
DISSON. She hasn't told me.
WILLY. She's shy.
DISSON. But she doesn't need to work. Why should she want to work?
WILLY. To be closer to you.
Willy's office.
WILLY and DIANA at their desks, both examining folders intently.
Silence.
Disson’s office.
DISSON and WENDY at their desks. WENDY typing on an electric typewriter. DISSON looking out of the window. DISSON turns from the window, glances at the door leading to WILLY’S office. The intercom buzzes on WENDY’S desk. She switches through.
WENDY. Mr Disson does not want to be disturbed until 3.30.
DISSON glances again at WILLY’S door.
Silence.
Disson’s house. Sitting-room. Early evening.
DIANA and THE TWINS are sitting about, reading.
DIANA. Do you miss your mother?
JOHN. We didn't know her very well. We were very young when she died.
DIANA. Your father has looked after you and brought you up very well.
JOHN. Oh, thank you. He'll be pleased to hear that.
DIANA. I've told him.
JOHN. What did he say?
DIANA. He was pleased I thought so. You mean a great deal to him.
JOHN. Children seem to mean a great deal to their parents, I've noticed. Though I've often wondered what ‘a great deal’ means.
TOM. I've often wondered what ‘mean’ means.
DIANA. Aren't you proud of your father's achievements?
JOHN. We are. I should say we are.
Pause.
DIANA. And now that your father has married again . . . has the change in your life affected you very much?
JOHN. What change?
DIANA. Living with me.
JOHN. Ah. Well, I think there definitely is an adjustment to be made. Wouldn't you say that, Tom?
DIANA. Of course there is. But would you say it's an easy adjustment to make, or difficult?
JOHN. Well, it really all depends on how good you are at making adjustments. We're very good at making adjustments, aren't we, Tom?
The front door slams. DIANA and THE TWINS look down at their books. DISSON comes in. They all look up, smile.
DISSON. Hullo.
They all smile genially at him.
DISSON looks quickly from one to the other.
Disson's office. Morning.
Sun shining in the window. DISSON at his desk. WENDY at the cabinet. He watches her. She turns.
WENDY. Isn't it a beautiful day, Mr Disson?
DISSON. Close the curtains.
WENDY closes the curtains.
Got your pad?
WENDY. Yes, sir.
DISSON. Sit down.
WENDY sits in a chair by the corner of his desk.
Warwick and Sons. We duly acknowledge receipt of your letter of the twenty-first inst. There should be no difficulty in meeting your requirements. What's the matter?
WENDY. Sir?
DISSON. You're wriggling.
WENDY. I'm sorry, sir.
DISSON. Is it the chair?
WENDY. Mmn . . . it might be.
DISSON. Too hard, I expect. A little hard for you.
Pause.
Is that it?
WENDY. A little.
DISSON. Sit on the desk.
WENDY. The desk?
DISSON. Yes, on the leather.
Slight pause.
It'll be softer . . . for you.
WENDY. Well, that'll be nice.
Pause. WENDY eventually uncrosses her legs and stands. She looks at the desk.
I think it's a little high . . . to get up on.
DISSON. Of course it isn't.
WENDY (looking at the desk). Hmmmn-mmmn . . .
DISSON. Go on, get up. You couldn't call that high.
WENDY places her back to the desk and slowly attempts to raise herself up on to it.
She stops.
WENDY. I think I'll have to put my feet on the chair, really, to hoist myself up.
DISSON. You can hoist yourself up without using your feet.
WENDY (dubiously). Well . . .
DISSON. Look, get up or stay down. Make up your mind. One thing or the other. I want to get on with my letter to Birmingham.
WENDY. I was just wondering if you'd m
ind if I put my high-heeled shoes on your chair . . . to help me get up.
Pause.
DISSON. I don't mind.
WENDY. But I'm worried in case my heels might chip the wood. They're rather sharp, these heels.
DISSON. Are they?
Pause.
Well, try it, anyway. You won't chip the wood.
WENDY puts her feet on the chair and hoists herself up on to the desk.
He watches.
WENDY settles herself on the desk and picks up her pen and pad. She reads from the pad.
WENDY. There should be no difficulty in meeting your requirements.
Disson’s house. Games room. Day.
DISSON and WILLY are playing ping-pong. THE TWINS watch. A long rally. DISSON backhand flips to win the point.
JOHN. Good shot, Dad.
TOM. Thirteen-eighteen.
WILLY. Your backhand's in form, Robert.
JOHN. Attack his forehand.
WILLY serves. A rally. WILLY attacks DISSON’S forehand. DISSON moves over to his right and then flips backhand to win the point. THE TWINS applaud.
TOM. Thirteen-nineteen.
WILLY. Backhand flip on the forehand, eh?
WILLY serves.
From DISSON’S point of view see two balls bounce and leap past both ears.
TWINS. Shot!
TOM. Fourteen-nineteen.
DISSON puts down his bat and walks slowly to WILLY.
DISSON. You served two balls, old chap.
WILLY. Two balls?
DISSON. You sent me two balls.
WILLY. No, no. Only one.
DISSON. Two.
Pause.
JOHN. One, Dad.
DISSON. What?
TOM. One.
Pause.
WILLY walks to DISSON’S end, bends.
WILLY. Look.
WILLY picks up one ball.
One ball. Catch!
He throws the ball. DISSON gropes, loses sight of the ball. It bounces under the table. He crouches, leans under the table for it. Gets it, withdraws, looks up. WILLY and THE TWINS look down at him.
Disley’s surgery.
Room darkened.
A torch shining in DISSON’S eyes. First the left eye, then the right eye. Torch out. Light on.
DISLEY. There's nothing wrong with your eyes, old boy.
DISSON. Nothing?
DISLEY. They're in first-rate condition. Truly.
DISSON. That's funny.
DISLEY. I'd go as far as to say your sight was perfect.
Complete Works, Volume III Page 8
