Alan Ayckbourn Plays 1

by Alan Ayckbourn

  Jerome Go away, Lupus, I’m not here.

  He notices suddenly that his meal is still sitting there in its tinfoil.

  Oh, no!

  He grabs hold of the tinfoil package. It is very hot.

  (dropping it) Ah!

  He picks it up with the shirt it was standing on and cautiously, still protecting his hands, he opens the lid. The contents are black and charred and smoking.

  (disgustedly) Oh, miraculous.

  He drops the tinfoil back on the table. Nan comes in with a mug in her hand. It is unfortunately empty since she is holding it upside down.

  Nan (placing the inverted mug on the table by Jerome) Lovely glass of orange. (heading towards the bedroom) Lovely morning, wakey-wakey.

  Jerome (staring at the mug in disgust) You load of old scrap.

  He is about to drop the shirt, too, when he observes that it now has a burn mark on it, left from the heated tinfoil.

  (equally) Oh, mind-numbing.

  He lies on the sofa for a moment absorbing the music. Nan re-enters with a face flannel in her hand. She makes a beeline for Jerome.

  Nan (playfully) Booo! Nan’s coming to getcher!

  Nan attacks his face vigorously with a flannel. Jerome struggles. She is apparently quite strong.

  Jerome Waah! Noff.

  Nan Come along, wash your face and hands before your breakfast!

  Jerome Wah! Noff! (getting his mouth clear) Nan off! Nan off!

  Nan stops at once.

  Nan That’s better.

  Jerome I am reprogramming you. You’ve taken a layer of skin off my face. You do that again and I’m stripping you down for spares and then dropping you off a twenty-storey building –

  Nan Story-time, now …

  Jerome Oh, God …

  Nan Once upon a time there were three bears called Jack and Jill who wanted to go to the ball only the other ducklings wouldn’t let her play with them …

  Jerome Nan, stop.

  Nan Stopped, Nan.

  Jerome Nan, register.

  Nan Register, Nan.

  Jerome (standing in front of her so she can scan his face) Not child. Not child.

  Nan Not child. Registered, Nan.

  Jerome Nan, take a nap.

  Nan Take a nap, Nan.

  Jerome (muttering) I don’t know why I bothered to switch you on again, really.

  She heads back to the bedrooms.

  Nan (turning suddenly tearful, in her other tone) I don’t know why I bother, Jerome, I really don’t. When you treat me like this. I’ve done everything I possibly can. I can’t cope any more. If you want to go and live with her, I don’t care. Go on! Go on! Go and live with the bloody woman.

  See if I care.

  She goes out to the bedrooms. Jerome frowns. He sits. The Bach continues to play. After a moment, there is a crash from the bedroom.

  (off) Oh, for goodness’ sake, you extremely stupid old bat. Who put that there, then?

  Jerome sits once again and closes his eyes, assured of peace at last. After a second, the doorbell rings. The screen lights up once more. It is the video entry-phone system again. Zoë is at the front door. She is breathless and dishevelled.

  Zoë (from screen) Mr Watkins …

  Jerome (disturbed again) I don’t believe this …

  Zoë Mr Watkins! This is Zoë Mill from the Blaise Gillespie Agency. Would you let me in, please?

  She looks anxiously over her shoulder and rings the doorbell again. Jerome crosses to the console. He switches off the music.

  (urgently) Mr Watkins! Please!

  Jerome (pressing the door button at the console) All right! Push the door.

  Zoë Mr Watkins, open the door …

  Jerome Push it. It’s open …

  Zoë Oh, please say you’re in. Please God you’re at home …

  She rings the bell again.

  Jerome (yelling) It’s open. Push the door!

  Zoë I’m going to break it down, Mr Watkins.

  We see her, on screen, step back and run at the door. Jerome presses the door button long and hard. Zoë bits the door which opens easily. She disappears. A second later, she appears in the room, a tattered, breathless wreck. She pulls up short, breathing heavily. Jerome stares at her incredulously.

  (attempting a semblance of dignity) Mr Watkins? How do you do? I am sorry to burst in like this. My name is Zoë Mill. From the Blaise Gillespie Agency.

  Jerome stares at her stupefied.

  (after a pause) I hope they advised you I was coming, I …

  Jerome (suddenly aware of this) You’ve left my front door open …

  He rushes out of the room into the hall, seizing his walking stick as he goes. Zoë, alarmed, flinches slightly as he dashes past her. Jerome appears briefly on the video screen. We see that his stick is in fact a swordstick which he has now drawn. He checks to left and right, then closes the door. The screen goes blank. Jerome returns, sword still drawn. Zoë watches him, transfixed. Jerome sheathes his sword and replaces the stick near the door.

  Never leave my front door open.

  Zoë (muted) No. I’m sorry. (Pause.) You see, there were these people –

  Jerome I know there are these people. Why the hell do you think I keep it shut?

  Zoë Yes.

  Another pause. Jerome stares at her. Zoë tries to pull herself together. It is difficult for her. Her clothes are in ribbons, her face is bleeding from a cut and her hands are torn and filthy. She has lost one shoe and is holding the other. Her stockings are in shreds. She obviously started out looking quite elegant in her smart suit and crisp blouse.

  Jerome (aware he has been rather rude) Sorry.

  Zoë No, no. I’m sorry. (brightly) Well, here I am. At last. (She laughs nervously.) What a super room.

  Jerome is staring at her. A pause.

  (nervously indicating a seat) Is this – for sitting on?

  Jerome (guardedly) Yes.

  Zoë Well. Would you mind if I –?

  Jerome No.

  Zoë Thanks very much.

  She sits. Jerome continues to stand, staring at her. She gives a sudden, quite unexpected, reflex sob as the shock begins to take hold but elects to continue as if it hadn’t happened.

  I’m sorry if I’m looking a bit of a – I must do a bit. I’m sorry. Anyway, I understood this was just an initial interview. Mrs Hope-Fitch told me you just wanted to look at me. See if I was suitable. But I believe the actual job’s not for a week or so? Have I got that right? (She sobs.) Excuse me. Yes?

  Jerome (thoughtfully) Yes.

  Zoë (indicating herself) Look, you’ll just have to disregard all this. I mean, this is ghastly. But I can – you may not believe this – I can look pretty good. Although I say it myself. Yes? But as I say, not – Don’t, for God’s sake, go by this. (She sobs.) Sorry.

  Silence.

  Would you like me to – walk up and down? Give you an overall picture? People sometimes find it helps them to – get a more general … Of course, I don’t know quite what you’re looking for so it’s a bit … I understand it was slightly unusual? Is that so? (She sobs.) Jerome (thoughtfully) Yes.

  Zoë I’ll stand up. (She does so.) There.

  Jerome studies her.

  Five foot four and a bit. I can lose a bit more weight if you like. I’m a bit over my usual … (She sobs.) I’ll walk about for you. In case you need me to walk. (She walks about, limping slightly.) By the way, I don’t usually limp, of course. Please, disregard that. I just seemed to have bashed my knee – Anyway. And, naturally, with heels on I’m that bit taller. They help no end, of course, with all sorts of things. God, look at my legs. Don’t look at those, either. I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to take my word for an awful lot of things. (She sobs.) Look, I’m awfully sorry, I think I’m just going to have to go away somewhere and have a quick cry. I’m sorry, I’m just in a bit of a state. I am sorry. Is there a –? Have you got a –?

  Jerome Oh yes, yes, sure. There’s o
ne just out there. First on the left.

  He indicates towards the bedrooms.

  Zoë I’ll be as quick as I can. I’m so sorry.

  Zoë plunges out of the room. As she reaches the offstage bathroom, we hear the sudden start of her tears, then the slamming of a door. Jerome stares after her, thoughtfully. He goes to his console and winds back a tape. He replays a section.

  Zoë’s recorded voice … all sorts of things. God, look at my legs. Don’t look at those, either. I’m sorry, I’m afrai–

  Her voice cuts off as Jerome stops the tape. He shrugs. He switches the machine back to record. He waits. He fades up a fader on the panel. Zoë’s sobs are heard over the speaker and the sound of her blowing her nose.

  Zoë (over the speakers) Oh, dear God …

  Jerome fades her down and moves away from the console. After a moment, Zoë returns with a handful of tissues, wiping her nose.

  Sorry about that. Here I am. Back again. Anyway, where was I? Yes. Let me tell you about me. I’m originally an actress. Still am, actually. Only I also model to keep the wolf occasionally from the door. And I’ve been doing this escort thing lately which has been very interesting. Only I understood you didn’t just want an escort, you wanted something slightly more. So that’s probably why they thought of me. I did have some pictures and my CV to show you as well, only they took my briefcase. (getting tearful again) It wasn’t even as if there was anything in there … Sorry. There were these terrifying girls, you see …

  Jerome Girls?

  Zoë Who attacked me. Just now. On my way here.

  Jerome Attacked you?

  Zoë Girls. Women. I don’t know.

  Jerome What did you do to them?

  Zoë (rather indignantly) I didn’t do anything. I was just quietly walking here from the station. It was a lovely day and I –

  Jerome Walked?

  Zoë Yes.

  Jerome You walked from the railway station to here?

  Zoë Yes. I’ve just said. And then these monsters – came from nowhere. What sort of area is this? Don’t you have any police at all? Any security patrols?

  Jerome Not any more.

  Zoë Neighbourhood vigilantes?

  Jerome Not lately.

  Zoë You mean, this area is not protected? At all? What about this building?

  Jerome The security staff kept being found dead. It got very expensive …

  Zoë My God. Mrs Hope-Fitch might have warned me.

  Jerome What did these people look like?

  Zoë Oh. (She shudders.) Awful. No hair at all. Not on their heads, anyway. Masses of it everywhere else. And sort of purple paint across here. (She indicates a band across the middle of her face.)

  Jerome No, that’s a tattoo.

  Zoë Really?

  Jerome They’re the Daughters of Darkness.

  Zoë Oh. They were female then.

  Jerome Most of them.

  Zoë Well, whatever they were. I didn’t stop to introduce myself. I hit the biggest of them and ran as fast as I could.

  Jerome (stunned) You hit a Daughter of Darkness.

  Zoë Yes. On the head. With my shoe.

  Jerome Ah.

  Zoë Am I supposed to have done something wrong?

  Jerome Well, I don’t think you should have done that.

  Zoë Why not?

  Jerome Well, you may have got them angry.

  Zoë Angry? What about my briefcase …

  Jerome Was there anything important in your briefcase?

  Zoë No, I’ve just said, just my –

  Jerome Then it would have been simpler to have given it to them.

  Zoë But I don’t see why I should have just handed it over. It was a present from my ex-boyfriend.

  Jerome You may have made things difficult.

  Zoë (sarcastically) Well, oh dear, oh dear. That’s all I can say.

  Jerome For you.

  Zoë How do you mean?

  Jerome Well. When you want to get back, they may not let you back …

  Zoë You mean …? But …? How do I …? I can’t stay here indefinitely, can I?

  Jerome No, no …

  Zoë If they won’t let me out, then we’d better call the police, hadn’t we? Or whatever it is that passes for the law round here …

  Jerome I’m afraid that’s them. They pass for the law round here. They are the law.

  Zoë The Daughters of –

  Jerome Darkness. Yes. Currently.

  Zoë Well, in that case, I’m sorry. I had no idea I was hitting a policeman, I can assure you. Where I come from they don’t have purple stripes tattooed across their faces. You mean this is a genuine no-go area? My God, I’ve only read about them till now. Mind you, I’ve never been this far up the Northern Line before. Where are we? Somewhere extraordinary. Edgware. I went to Balham once but that’s the other way, isn’t it? How absolutely terrifying. So what happens now?

  Jerome It’s all right. I’ll talk to them. I have a relationship with them. Of sorts. I do things for them, now and then.

  Zoë Do what?

  Jerome I help rig their sound gear when they have their big concerts. Things like that.

  Zoë Oh, how interesting. Are you a roadie?

  Jerome Not really. It’s just a hobby.

  Zoë What is it you do?

  Jerome I’m a composer.

  Zoë How amazing. Well. Hence – (She indicates the sound console.) – hence all that.

  A sudden violent clang from one of the windows. Zoë is startled.

  What on earth is that?

  Jerome That’s the Daughters.

  Zoë What are they doing?

  Jerome Throwing bricks at the window shutters. They’re showing their displeasure.

  Another clang. Zoë winces.

  It’s all right, they’re half-inch steel. They’ll probably keep this up for an hour or two. Till they think of something else to do.

  Another clang.

  Zoë Lucky you had your shutters closed.

  Jerome Hardly lucky. They’re welded to the window frames. They haven’t been opened in four years.

  Another clang. She winces.

  Zoë They can’t get in, can they?

  Jerome Not unless they can jump thirty feet. It’s all right.

  Another clang. A silence.

  I think they’ve gone.

  They listen again.

  Yes.

  She relaxes slightly. A pause.

  It’s quieter where you live, then?

  Zoë Yes, we’re – pretty lucky in Kilburn. Regular armed patrols, masses of security cameras and so on. Very well lit, most of it. I mean, actually, the High Street’s brighter at night than it is in the daytime. Providing you’re in by dusk you’re fine. I’ve had no trouble. Not really. Couple of burglaries, that’s all. Oh, and my dog was shot, that was sad, but we think that was an accident. We think someone must have mistaken him for a police dog.

  Jerome Shame. We?

  Zoë My ex-boyfriend.

  Jerome Ah.

  Zoë He’s still living with me but he’s definitely my ex-boyfriend. Still. Enough about me. To business.

  Jerome Yes.

  Zoë You must tell me about this job you’d like me to do. Assuming you’d like me to do it, of course?

  Jerome Yes.

  Zoë You’re still deciding?

  Jerome Yes.

  Zoë Oh, right. Sorry. Do you want me to walk up and down again?

  Jerome No.

  Zoë (laughing) I could do you a bit of Shakespeare. Any good? No.

  Jerome I wonder if you’d mind – trying on some clothes.

  Zoë (suspiciously) What sort of clothes?

  Jerome Just normal clothes. Women’s clothing.

  Zoë I’m the one trying them on?

  Jerome Yes.

  Zoë Where? I mean, where do you want me to try them on?

  Jerome Here.

  Zoë You mean in front of you?

  Jerome Yes.

  Zo
ë You want me to change my clothes in front of you, is that it?

  Jerome No. I want you to change into different clothes elsewhere. And then come in here so I can look at you wearing those different clothes in front of me. That I’ll give you. To wear. You.

  Zoë (considering this proposition) Yes, that sounds OK. I’m sorry. It’s just occasionally, you know, we get – sort of weird requests, you know. The old favourites, you know. Nuns and gymslips.

  Jerome Oh, no.

  Zoë Fine.

  Jerome Nothing like that.

  Zoë No, sorry. Just thought I’d …

  Jerome These are my wife’s clothes.

  A silence.

  Zoë Your wife’s?

  Jerome Yes. They’re quite ordinary clothes. They may be a bit out of fashion but –

  Zoë Your wife, is she –?

  Jerome What?

  Zoë Is she dead at all?

  Jerome Dead?

  Zoë Yes.

  Jerome No, she’s –

  Zoë She’s still alive?

  Jerome Yes.

  Zoë Living with you?

  Jerome No. We’re separated.

  Zoë Oh. (She breathes more easily.) I’m sorry.

  Jerome If you don’t mind my saying so, you seem rather wary.

  Zoë Well. Yes. I’m sorry. Look, this is my first time. As an escort. And I was assured that there was nothing further entailed, other than escorting. But then I get here and find you on your own, asking me to try on clothes, I got panicked. Sorry. I’m a little bit shaky still, I – Give me the clothes. I’ll put them on for you. No more questions. (slapping her own face) Zoë, grow up and be your age.

  Jerome Wait there.

  He goes out to the bedrooms. Zoë looks about her.

  Zoë (to herself) Nevertheless. This is a very, very creepy set-up. It has to be said.

  She wanders about looking at the room for the first time, intrigued by the console. She is examining this when the doorbell rings and the nightmarish face of one of the Daughters of Darkness appears on the screen, leering into the video camera.