Dafydd (taken aback somewhat by his change of tone) What?
Crispin Come on, then …
Dafydd No, that’s not the way. Violence is no solution.
Crispin I’ve been longing to have a go at you. Come on.
Crispin starts to advance slightly on Dafydd. He, in turn, retreats rather apprehensively.
You’ve been getting up my nose for a few weeks now …
Dafydd Now come on, boy, be your age. Ah ah. Now, now. I’m a … I’m a middle-aged man, you know. Very nearly. That wouldn’t be fair. Let’s be reasonable … Now, don’t you … don’t you try it … I’m a lawyer, you know … I could have you for … I won’t, of course, if you don’t (nose to nose with Crispin, unable to retreat further, nervously) Well, now what? Eh? (He laughs.)
Crispin Well …
Dafydd Yes?
Crispin How about this for starters?
Crispin brings his knee up sharply and moves back. Dafydd gives a fearful whistling sound and bends double. Hannah and Guy have both returned separately to witness this.
Hannah Dafydd …
Guy Hoy …
Crispin (cheerfully) Bye all … (He strolls out.)
Dafydd (in pain) Oooooorrrggg.
Jarvis (who was watching this) No, that wasn’t as convincing as the other one …
Dafydd (glaring at Jarvis, his face twisted in malignant pain) I’ll kill him. I’ll kill that old bastard …
Jarvis (smiling, unhearing) You don’t mind an opinion, do you?
Guy You OK?
Hannah Is he all right?
Guy Yes, I think he’s been hit in the …
Hannah (sympathetically) Oh, yes. It’s very painful there, isn’t it?
Dafydd Of course it’s bloody painful …
Guy Cold water helps … I think.
Hannah Right. Well, you … (starting to lead Dafydd away) You’d better come and sit with Linda. You can have the sink after her …
They start going off, Hannah picking up Linda’s bag on their way. Dafydd groans.
Carefully, dear. That’s it …
Hannah and Dafydd go off.
Guy (to himself) Oh, well …
Jarvis (removing his headphones and offering them to Guy) Have a listen to that. Tell me what you think it is.
Guy somewhat reluctantly puts on the headphones. Whatever he hears is very loud and not too pleasant. He hastily takes them off.
Guy God! What is it?
Jarvis Give up? That is an actual recording of an 1812 Boulton and Watt beam engine which is still used to this day for pumping water to the summit of the Kennet and Avon canal.
Guy Good heavens.
Jarvis It lifts one ton of water 40 feet on each stroke of the engine.
Guy Amazing.
Jarvis That’s what I’ve been listening to for the past hour.
Guy A beam engine?
Jarvis Aye.
Guy What, all evening?
Jarvis No, no, no. This is called ‘The Vanishing Sounds in Britain’. Issued by the BBC. All vanishing sounds …
Guy Well, listening to that, it’s probably a good job, isn’t it? (He laughs.)
Jarvis (not hearing) What’s that? (He switches off the recorder.) No, I gave the record to the wife last Christmas, but she wasn’t so keen …
Guy Look. May I have a quick word with you? (looking round to see that they’re alone) It’s about a piece of land that apparently belongs to you. Round the back of the BLM factory. Do you know it?
Jarvis I not only know it. I own it.
Guy Yes.
Jarvis I’ll tell you a very interesting little tale about that bit of land …
Guy (his heart sinking) Oh, really …
Jarvis That land was purchased by my grandfather, old Joshua Pike, for the benefit of his employees. He were a philanthropist and a deeply religious man – chapel, you see – but his other passion, apart from t’firm, were cricket. Cricket mad. You with me?
Guy Aye. Yes.
Jarvis Well, he bought that land off a widow woman and he had his lads, his workers, levelling and draining and returfing it – in their own time, mind – not his. And, well, when it were finished – well, some said it were the finest strip for a hundred mile or more. Like a billiard pool. And he said to the lads, there you are, lads, go to it. That’s my gift to you. That’s my bounty.
Guy Wonderful.
Jarvis Only one thing – bearing in mind he were a chapel man – not on Sundays, lads. Never on the sabbath. Well, any road up, year or so later, he’s out for a stroll one Sunday afternoon with his children and his grandchildren – taking the air, like – and what should he spy as he’s passing the cricket field but a bunch of workers laughing and joking and chucking a ball about like it were Saturday dinner time. And the old man says nowt. Not at the time. But the next day, Monday morning first thing, he sends in his bulldozers and diggers and ploughs and he digs that land up from one end to the other. Then he sets fire to t’pavilion and he puts up a 12-foot wooden fence. Palings. And to this day, not a ball has been thrown on that field. That’s the sort of man he was. Me grandfather. Dying breed.
Guy Another vanishing sound of Britain. Yes … (after what he hopes is a respectful pause) The point is, with regard to this land … There is a rumour, unconfirmed I may add, that BLM are contemplating buying it. Possibly. In which case it could be worth a bit. If you were considering selling it.
Jarvis considers this.
So.
Jarvis Say no more.
Guy You follow me.
Jarvis I’m glad of the information. I trust you. You’re a Scotty. And I’ll see you’re looked after, don’t worry.
Guy No, I don’t need looking after. Really.
Jarvis Then why are you telling me?
Guy Well, I – thought you ought to know – it’s just that I wouldn’t want people to put one over on you. Friendly.
Jarvis (laughing sceptically) Friendly? Oh, aye? That’s a good one.
Guy Well, if you don’t believe me …
Jarvis Don’t come the friendly with me, friend. I’ve a few years to go yet but when I leave this earth, I’ll be leaving it fair and square. Same as me father did and me grandfather. I owe nothing to no one. They’re all paid off. I’ve paid off my business. I’ve paid off my family. There’s no claim on me from any quarter. And I don’t intend to start making exceptions with you. You see me right. I’ll see you right. Right?
Guy Right.
Rebecca comes in from the road. She is in time to catch the end of this conversation. She looks at them a trifle suspiciously.
Rebecca Hello.
Jarvis Aye.
Guy Good evening.
Rebecca Has Dafydd got to us yet?
Guy No. I don’t think he’s got to very much, actually …
Rebecca How unsurprising. Where is he? Back there?
Guy Yes.
Rebecca I’ll sort them out then. I’ve had enough of this …
Rebecca goes backstage.
Jarvis I’ve paid her off and all. My mother’s 92. She’s paid off.
Guy You paid your mother off?
Jarvis A hundred quid a week tax free and a bungalow in Paignton. She’s not complaining. (as he moves to go backstage) You’ll be paid off. Don’t worry …
Jarvis goes off. Guy, alone and as keen as ever, decides to have a quick private rehearsal. He takes up his script. He reads other people’s lines but tries to speak his own without looking.
Guy (reading) Come hither Filch … blurr, blurr, blurr … (He skips.) Where was your Post last Night, my Boy? (without the script) I ply’d at the Opera, Madam; and considering ’twas neither dark nor rainy, so that there was no great Hurry in getting Chairs and Coaches, Made a tolerable on’t. These seven Handkerchiefs, Madam.
Guy checks the script and is pleased to see he got it right. He is about to continue when he sees Dafydd has appeared. He is very subdued and is sipping a beaker of tea.
How are you feeling?
&nbs
p; Dafydd Oh, pretty good. Like a man who’s just spent his wedding night with an electrified steam shovel …
Guy nods sympathetically.
Well. Now we are in a hole. If that boy doesn’t come back we’re over the dead-ball line, I can tell you. Trying to do The Beggar’s Opera without a Macheath is a bit of a non-starter even for Peter Brook. So. (Pause.) Oh, it makes you want to … Who cares, anyway? Who cares?
Guy I do.
Dafydd Ah, Guy, Guy. My rock. But nobody really cares. Not in this country. Anything you want to mention’s more important than theatre to most of them. Washing their hair, cleaning their cars … If this was Bulgaria or somewhere we’d have peasants hammering on the doors. Demanding satisfaction or their money back. This place, you tell them you’re interested in the arts, you get messages of sympathy. Get well soon. Well, maybe they’re right. Why beat your brains out? Every time I vow I’m just going to have a ball. I’m not going to take any of it seriously. It’s just a play, for God’s sake … And every time it gets like this. Desperate. Life-and-death stuff. Look at me. You’d think to look at me I was in really serious trouble. While all that’s happened, in fact, is that a play might not happen. That’s all. But of course the irony is that outside these four walls, in the real world out there, I actually am in serious trouble and I couldn’t give a stuff. Now that really does raise questions, doesn’t it? If I were my psychiatrist I’d be worrried that all was not well. And I’d be right.
Guy (cautiously) Any – particular sort of trouble?
Dafydd (evasively) Well, apart from being beaten up by a singing Yahoo … nothing very original. I don’t know. Things, you know. Hannah. Things like that. (Pause.) She’s a bloody deep-freeze of a woman. That’s the trouble. Physically. I mean, she’s great in other ways. Wonderful at keeping the home going and things. I mean without her … (He smiles.) I call her my Swiss Army Wife, you know. No man should be without one. (He laughs.) Yes, yes … It’s just that she’s – she’s got a blade missing if you know what I mean. Always has had. Isn’t her fault of course. Just not in her nature. Right from our wedding night. Ice tongs to lift her nightdress, I’m telling you …
Guy You didn’t … find out – before you were married?
Dafydd Well, not from my part of Wales, boy. Not too hot on sale or return there, you know. Mind you, I assumed she’d thaw. Given a little warmth. And, you know, general encouragement. (with more passion, suddenly) God, it’s not that I didn’t try … I really wanted to make it work, I really did. The nights I spent – battering at those damn defences of hers. But nothing. Knock one down she’d build another.
Guy (trying to lighten it) Well. You managed to have twins …
Dafydd (darkly) Yes. Well, we never talk about that. Never.
Guy Ah …
Dafydd Sorry, Guy. Bloody bore. I’m sorry. Why should I bore you with me and Hannah? Sorry … Don’t know what came over me. I think it takes a kick in the crutch to make a man painfully aware of his own mortality …
Rebecca returns.
(irritably) Yes?
Rebecca Sorry to interrupt. First, I thought you’d like to know that the tannoy’s on …
Dafydd Oh, God …
Rebecca And second, in a vain attempt to prevent Hannah from hearing, we had a meeting …
Dafydd Oh, yes. And?
Rebecca Well, what are we going to do? Scrap the production? I mean that boy, from all accounts, doesn’t intend to come back, does he? So what do we do?
Dafydd I don’t know what we do. You tell me. You’re the one who keeps holding bloody meetings. Next time try inviting me. Maybe I can make a few suggestions.
Rebecca Very well, to start with. We need a new Macheath. Agreed?
Dafydd Yes. And where are we going to find him? Eh?
Rebecca Well … (She looks towards Guy.)
Guy Ah.
Dafydd You mean Guy?
Rebecca He’s the natural choice, isn’t he? It’s either him or Ian Hubbard …
Dafydd Oh God, anyone rather than Ian Hubbard …
Rebecca (pointing towards the tannoy mike) Shh!
Dafydd Sorry. (in a whisper) Could you do it?
Guy I –
Rebecca Do it? He’d love it …
The lights close down to a single spot on Guy. Rebecca and Dafydd leave.
Guy (singing, as Macheath)
Which way shall I turn me – How can I decide!
Wives, the Day of our Death, are as fond as a Bride.
One Wife is too much for most Husbands to hear,
But two at a time there’s no Mortal can bear.
This way, and that way, and which way I will,
What would comfort the one, t’other wife would take ill.
At the end of the song, the lights come up on Rebecca’s garden. A seat. A garden table. Guy stands looking round.
Rebecca (hailing him) Yoo-hoo! Over here, Guy. It’s so sweet of you to pop round. Excuse the midges, won’t you? Would you like a cup of tea? Shall I ring for some tea?
Guy No. No, thank you. Had my tea at home, just now.
Rebecca Sure? A sherry or something?
Guy No. Thanks all the same. Not with rehearsals in a minute.
Rebecca (picking up her own glass) Quite right, quite right. You put the rest of us to shame, Guy. Mind you, I don’t think it would matter that much if I drank myself silly. They always manage to hide me behind a piece of scenery anyway …
She laughs. Guy laughs politely.
Do sit down. (proffering a cigarette box) Do you? No. You are good. None of the vices. Practically. (She smiles.) We all think you’re going to be an absolutely wonderful Macheath.
Guy Thank you.
Rebecca I take the view that Dafydd’s terribly lucky to get you. Whatever the price.
Guy I’m sorry?
Rebecca There’s no need to be sorry. You’ve jollied us up no end, Guy. All of us. In our different ways.
Guy Well …
Rebecca Now, what I’m really hoping is that you’re going to make my day as well. After all, you’ve made nearly everybody else’s. One way or another. It must be my turn, mustn’t it? Surely?
Rebecca smiles at him warmly. Guy shifts a little uncomfortably. They are left thus as a light comes up on Ted, Enid and Jarvis.
Ted, Enid and Jarvis(singing)
In the days of my Youth I could bill like a Dove,
Fa, la, la, (etc.)
Like a sparrow at all times was ready for Love,
Fa, la, la, (etc.)
The Life of all Mortals in Kissing should pass,
Lip to Lip while we’re young – then the Lip to the Glass,
Fa, la, la, (etc.)
At the end of the song the lights return to their previous state. Rebecca and Guy have been chattering away.
Rebecca Now. This little favour I wanted to ask … (seeing Guy’s expression) Don’t look so terrified. It’s not what you’re thinking …
Guy No, no. I was –
Rebecca God forbid. Six years sharing a mattress with Jarvis cured me of that. No, it’s just that I understand you and he were talking the other evening …
Guy Yes? Oh, yes. About the –
Rebecca About our little bit of land.
Guy Yes. As a matter of fact I wanted to talk about that too, actually.
Rebecca Good.
Guy (fumbling in his pocket) The point is I’ve – well, it’s rather awkward – (He produces a bulging envelope.) I got this in the post this morning.
Rebecca Oh, how gorgeous. (peering) What is it? I’m sorry, I haven’t my glasses.
Guy It’s £500.
Rebecca Oh, super.
Guy In notes. Cash.
Rebecca Lucky you. What happened? Someone passed away?
Guy Not – so far as I know. No. I rather thought it came from you.
Rebecca Me?
Guy Well, rather from Jarvis.
Rebecca Jarvis?
Guy I think so.
Rebecca I
t sounds very unlikely. You’d be the first person who managed to get money out of Jarvis. None of his wives ever could, I can tell you … Two of them died trying, poor things.
Guy I’m pretty certain it is from him.
Rebecca What does it say? With love from Jarvis?
Guy Of course not. It’s –
Rebecca Then how do you know? Why on earth would my husband send you £500?
Guy Because I – I warned him about this rumour. About the land. I can’t at present find any foundation in truth in it, but there’s this rumour that –
Rebecca (slightly impatiently) Yes, I’ve heard the rumour.
Guy You have?
Rebecca Oh, yes.
Guy Well. I told Jarvis simply because I was anxious that he shouldn’t be taken advantage of. Or you.
Rebecca Well, that’s awfully sweet of you. Thank you. Of course, it could work both ways, couldn’t it? I mean, supposing this rumour wasn’t true but everyone assumed it was, then the price would go up and Jarvis would be laughing. And the joke would be on these very unscrupulous people that you’ve so kindly been warning us about. Which would be a sort of poetic justice, wouldn’t it?
Guy Ah.
Rebecca Of course, the whole thing would be helped tremendously if someone strategically placed like yourself did nothing to deny the rumour. Even, dare one say it, encouraged it?
Guy Oh, I don’t think I could …
Rebecca No, no, heaven forbid. That’s entirely up to your conscience. Anyway, you’ve got much too much on your mind already with Macheath. We mustn’t worry you. Just remember, though, when they’re all clapping and cheering you on the first night, it was me who got you the part. Remember that …
Guy Yes. And I’m very grateful. I –
Rebecca (with the barest glance at her watch) Now, we must dash, mustn’t we? We don’t want to keep them waiting. Do you have your car? (She is moving away as she speaks.)
Guy Yes, thank you … You know, I’d really love to know how this rumour started. It’s extraordinary …
Rebecca (looking at him for a second and then realizing the question was without guile) Well, I suspect that’s something we shall never know, shall we? Any of us. Coming?
Alan Ayckbourn Plays 1 Page 8
