Alan Ayckbourn Plays 1

by Alan Ayckbourn

  Zoë (sympathetically) No. And you probably didn’t understand a lot about banking, did you?

  Jerome (sharply) What’s that got to do with it?

  Zoë (quickly) Nothing.

  Jerome Still, I’m sure she’ll make some – chief clerk – a very good wife.

  Zoë (deciding this isn’t a line worth pursuing further) I’d love to hear some of your music. Could I, possibly?

  Jerome Yes. Perhaps. Sometime. As I say, I haven’t written anything for – ages.

  Zoë Since they left?

  Jerome Nearly.

  Zoë Four years. Heavens. You really did need them, then, in some ways? Well, your muse did.

  Jerome Geain. I needed Geain. I need her back more than anything in the world.

  Zoë, for the first time, notices the signs of his inner distress.

  Zoë (moved) Well, I’ll – do my best for you. (Pause.) Did she inspire your Singing Babies? I bet she did.

  Jerome First Sounds. Yes. (Pause.) I recorded her over several days …

  Zoë You mean it was actually her? Actually Geain you used?

  Jerome Yes. That was the first occasion I started using purely natural sounds – sampling and treating them. It took months.

  Zoë Fancy. And all that for what? Thirty seconds?

  Jerome Thirty seconds? It was a forty-five-minute piece originally.

  Zoë Oh, I see. There’s more?

  Jerome Much, much, much more.

  Zoë You can’t write at all, then? No ideas?

  Jerome I know what I want to write. But I don’t know how to do it.

  Zoë What?

  Jerome (more to himself) I know what it’s going to be. I know what I want to say. It’s how to say it. I haven’t got the sound. I haven’t heard it. Three years and I’m still waiting to hear the sound.

  Zoë What do you want to say?

  Jerome I want to say – what I want to say is – well, I want to say – love. Really.

  Zoë (mystified) Love?

  Jerome Yes.

  Zoë I see. What sort of love?

  Jerome Just – generally. Love. You know …

  Zoë (puzzled) No, I’m not sure I –

  Jerome (tetchily) Love. You’ve heard of love, I presume?

  Zoë Yes, yes. Sorry, only you’re not putting it awfully well.

  Jerome (irritably) Of course I’m not putting it awfully well. If I could put it awfully well, there wouldn’t be a problem. I want to express the feeling of love in an abstract musical form. In such a way that anyone who hears it – anyone – no matter what language they speak – no matter what creed or colour – they will rcognize it – and respond to it – and relate it to their own feelings of love that they have or they’ve experienced at some time – so they say – yes, my God, that’s it! That’s what it is! And maybe who knows, consequently, there might be a bit more of it.

  Zoë is spellbound by this.

  Zoë How wonderful. (She reflects for a second.) It must have been a bit like this, sitting with Beethoven.

  Jerome I doubt it.

  Zoë That’s how I imagine it, anyway.

  Jerome I don’t think Beethoven sat down all that much. He used to stamp about the place, shouting.

  Zoë There you are, then. You’re both terribly similar.

  Pause. They have both finished their meal.

  Oh, it must be just so awful for you. Having all those ideas and not being able to express them. Poor you.

  Jerome looks at her.

  I mean, I know sort of how you feel. I get that way if I’m just writing a letter. I want to say something really – I don’t know – heartfelt to someone. And it all comes out like the inside of some awful Christmas card. Happy tidings, boyfriend dear. At this joyous time of year. When what you mean to say is – I love you incredibly much and I’d do just about everything I could in the world to make you happy and I just want to be with you and stay close to you for ever and ever and ever – And you try and write that down so it makes sense and what do you get? Happy tidings, boyfriend dear … (aware of his gaze) What’s the matter?

  Jerome Nothing.

  Zoë Are you having second thoughts?

  Jerome No. Third thoughts.

  Zoë (slightly apprehensive) Oh? What are those?

  Jerome I was just thinking – you’re a very nice person, really. Only, saying it like that, I think I sound rather like one of your Christmas cards.

  A pause. Zoë is a little ill at ease.

  Zoë I think I’ll sing my song for you now, if you don’t mind.

  Jerome (rather dismayed) Really?

  Zoë Well, it’s either that or my Shakespeare. And I don’t think Queen Margaret would go down frightfully well after chicken and strawberries. (arranging herself) It’s all right, it’s quite short … (making a false start) You’re not my – Hang on. (She sorts out her first note.) Right. Here we go. (Sings:)

  You’re not my first love …

  It would only be a lie if I pretended –

  In the past there have been others

  Who have slept between these covers

  But I promise

  Though you’re far too late in life to be my first love,

  You’ll be my last love.

  I swear to you, you’re gonna be my last love …

  She finishes her song. Silence.

  Well. It has this great accompaniment. Diddly-diddly diddly dom.

  She smiles at him awkwardly. Jerome rises and moves to her. He stands by her, then kisses her. They break and stare at each other.

  You taste of wild strawberries.

  Jerome You taste of grouse.

  Zoë laughs. Jerome smiles one of his rare smiles.

  Do you want any more?

  Zoë More?

  Jerome Food?

  Zoë No.

  Jerome Any more anything of anything?

  Zoë (without hesitation) Yes, please.

  Jerome Well, shall we …? What would you prefer to do? I mean, would you like to – here? Or –?

  Zoë I don’t mind. Here’s fine if – you –

  Jerome Or there’s the bedroom, that might be –

  Zoë Sure. That’s fine. Will she have made the bed by now, do you think?

  She laughs.

  Jerome Oh, no, that’s no problem. Those sheets were just for her to –

  Zoë Well, fine. Shall we go in there?

  Jerome (unmoving) Yes, yes, yes.

  Zoë You want to?

  Jerome Oh, yes. You bet.

  Zoë I mean, we don’t have to if you –?

  Jerome No, no, no … (laughing) Useful research, whatever else …

  Zoë (drawing back, concerned) Oh, I wasn’t … just for that.

  Jerome No, no. I was joking.

  Zoë I mean, I really want to. I don’t – if I don’t want to … I don’t do that sort of thing.

  Jerome I know, I’m sure. Nor do I.

  Zoë Good. (Pause.) Well – shall we …?

  Jerome Why not?

  They both move towards the bedrooms. As they do, Nan enters clasping the section of vacuum cleaner. Zoë jumps. Nan passes them, crosses to the hall and goes out.

  She’s OK.

  Zoë I wonder. Would you think it awful of me – if I asked you to switch it off?

  Jerome Switch her off?

  Zoë Just while we were – just while we were in –

  Jerome It’s not very good for her, to keep switching her on and off, you see …

  Zoë No, no, I’m sure. It’s just if it did happen to come in while we were – I think I’d probably scream or something –

  Jerome Well, I could disengage her. That would put her on standby. I’d disconnect her movement functions but leave her brain working …

  Zoë (not wanting the details) Yes, fine. That sounds fine. I wouldn’t want to damage her.

  Jerome (calling) Nan, here.

  Nan (off) Coming, Nan.

  Nan enters from the hall.

  Zoë Did tha
t face come with it? I mean, is that how it came out of the factory?

  Jerome No, I – tinkered around with it. You can easily alter it, you just heat it first with a hair drier.

  Zoë Well, I think you could have chosen a better face. It looks like Mrs Danvers.

  Jerome Nan, sit.

  Nan Sitting, Nan.

  Nan sits.

  Jerome Nan, Function Command Jerome Disengage.

  Nan gives a slight beep.

  Nan Disengaged.

  Jerome Nan, walk.

  She gives a little beep and a twitch but stays in the chair.

  (trying again) Nan, walk.

  Nan beeps and twitches again but stays still.

  There you are, you see. Can’t move at all.

  Zoë No. (She seems a little guilty at what she’s requested Jerome to do.)

  Jerome I’ll just check – things are off.

  He goes to the console. He checks, unseen by Zoë, his recording machines. Zoë stands in the doorway, waiting for him. Nan’s head turns slowly and looks at her.

  Zoë Ah!

  Jerome What is it?

  Zoë She’s just moved her head.

  Jerome Well, yes, she can still move her head. That’s all right, isn’t it?

  Zoë Oh yes, that’s quite all right. I just wasn’t expecting it.

  She starts fumbling under her dress.

  Jerome (watching her) Are you all right?

  Zoë (having difficulty) Yes, I was – I was just going to show you my – Show you my – (She produces a string of plastic credit-type cards from her thigh wallet.) There. Better get it over with. (pointing to one green card in particular among the string of others) My Green Card. OK?

  Jerome Oh, yes …

  Zoë I had a full check. Last month. I’m all clear. CBH 1.

  Jerome Fine. Good. Congratulations.

  Zoë Well. You can’t be too careful. Can you?

  Jerome No.

  Slight pause.

  Zoë Are you –? Have you got –?

  Jerome Oh, yes – somewhere. It’s in the – I put it in the – It’s around …

  Zoë (slightly doubtful) Good, (making to move) Well …

  Jerome After you.

  Zoë Thank you. (as she goes) You still want to do this, don’t you?

  Jerome (switching off the lights and following her) Oh, yes … You bet. Rather.

  Zoë (off) Because if you don’t, I shan’t be hurt –

  Jerome (off) Oh, I do. I do. Do you?

  Zoë (off) Oh, yes … You bet.

  The bedroom door closes and their voices are cut off. Nan sits alone. She is lit, primarily from the console lights which start blinking and flashing in response to the unheard sounds in the bedroom. The light patterns become increasingly vigorous.

  Nan (slowly and with difficulty) Deb–or–rah … Deb–or–rah …

  As the lights continue to flicker on her face – blackout.

  SCENE TWO

  A few hours later. It is probably morning, though it’s impossible to tell. Nan has gone. Jerome sits on the stool which is swivelled to one side of the console. He is working at a stretch of keyboard. He is wearing headphones, so there is no sound. He grunts occasionally to himself as he works. Nan swings in from the kitchen with another of her upside-down mugs of coffee. She puts it down near Jerome.

  Nan Nice cup of cocoa. Don’t let it get cold, now.

  Jerome, even if he hears her, ignores her he is so absorbed. Nan returns to the kitchen. After a moment, Zoë, rather crumpled from sleep, comes from the bedroom wrapped in a blanket. She watches Jerome for a moment. She moves behind him and kisses the top of his head gently.

  Jerome (rather loudly because of his headphones) Nan, stop! Stop that at once.

  Zoë pulls back, hurt. Jerome realizes belatedly that it was unlikely to have been Nan. He turns and takes off the headphones.

  Zoë Good morning.

  Jerome Good morning.

  Zoë How long have you been up?

  Jerome (shrugging) Oh …

  Zoë I’ve slept for hours.

  Jerome Yes …

  Zoë Well …

  Jerome Yes …

  Zoë (kissing him) Good morning.

  Jerome Morning.

  Zoë stands smiling at him. He seems rather embarrassed. There is a characteristic crash from the kitchen.

  Zoë (drily) Mrs Danvers is up bright and early, I hear.

  Jerome Well, she’s got a busy day ahead.

  Zoë I’m glad she didn’t bring me early-morning tea.

  Jerome She’s been known to. It’s not an experience worth repeating. By the way, we had a visit from Rita. It’s all fixed.

  Zoë Thank goodness.

  Jerome The Daughters have agreed your fine. Five hundred pounds.

  Zoë (aghast) Five hundred pounds!

  Jerome It was either that or fifty lashes. I said you’d prefer the fine.

  Zoë Well, the Blaise Gillespie Agency is footing the bill for that, I can tell you. They should have warned me.

  Jerome You’ll need this. (He picks up a grubby coloured card and hands it to her.) It’s your pass card. To get you back to the railway station.

  Zoë (reading) ‘This is to – certify – I the undersigned have paid my debt to society.’ Oh, really.

  Jerome Yes, you have to sign it, too. Don’t lose it.

  Zoë I’d be a lot more impressed if they could spell ‘certify’.

  She puts the card down.

  Jerome I’ll come with you. See you off. If you’d like me to. Do you want anything? Tea or anything?

  Zoë No. I must get dressed. I need to be back by midday. I’ve got an audition. It’s a new musical. Set in a women’s prison. Hooray for Holloway – Well, that’s what everyone’s calling it, anyway. I think I’ll do my song for them. What do you think?

  Jerome Sure. Why not?

  Zoë seems reluctant to move. They stare at each other.

  I – don’t know what to say, really.

  Zoë I – was wondering. Whether I should be coming back? Whether you’d like me to come back again? I mean, sooner than – like this evening? Or tomorrow? We’ve still got a lot to discuss, haven’t we? If we’re going to get everything right for this meeting with your wife? And your daughter? What do you think? I mean, I’m not trying to push. Just as you like. What do you say?

  A silence.

  I don’t mind. Only do say something. Please.

  Jerome kisses her gently.

  Is that a yes?

  Jerome Is that what you’d like?

  Zoë Yes.

  Jerome Then, that’s what I’d like.

  Zoë Good. (Pause.) Just one thing.

  Jerome What?

  Zoë Who the hell is Deborah?

  Jerome (startled) Who?

  Zoë Deborah. Who is she?

  Jerome No idea at all. Never heard of her.

  Zoë Well. Somebody has, that’s all I can say. Mrs Danvers keeps muttering her name at me every time she passes.

  Jerome I can’t think why she’d do that.

  Zoë No, right. I must just remind her of something she used to know. Her old pal, Debbie, the deep freezer perhaps. (She watches him for a second.) Last night, was that the first time you – you hadn’t made love to anyone for some time, had you?

  Jerome Three years.

  Zoë (not unkindly) Well, you’ll soon get the hang of it again, I’m sure. (realizing she may have put this rather badly) So. I’ll get dressed. OK?

  Jerome Yes.

  He plays with some of the knobs on the console.

  Zoë You all right?

  Jerome Yes.

  Zoë What were you doing? You weren’t composing something were you?

  Jerome Not really. I – er – (He waves his hand at the console and presses a start button. From the speakers a fragment of a composition that Jerome has been working on. It is, recognizably, Zoë’s laugh, recorded, sampled and re-treated in a simple, gentle, melodic line.)

&nbs
p; Zoë (recognizing herself) Is that me?

  Jerome Yes.

  They listen. It is quite short. It finishes. Jerome stops the machine.

  Zoë That was me.

  Jerome That’s right.

  Zoë When did you do that?

  Jerome While you were asleep.

  Zoë But when did you record me? Yesterday?

  Jerome That’s right.

  Zoë You secretly recorded my laugh? My awful laugh?

  Jerome It’s a very nice laugh.

  Zoë Watch it. I shall demand repeat fees. (She smiles.) It’s very good.

  Jerome (smiling) Thank you. It’s a sketch at the moment.

  Zoë Terribly clever. It’s all done with that machine?

  Jerome Yes.

  Zoë Brilliant. Brilliant machine. I’ll tell you something, do you think when it goes – (hums a few notes) – it wouldn’t be better if it went – (demonstrates something different) – don’t you think?

  Jerome (guardedly) How do you mean?

  Zoë Like – (hums her improvement again).

  Jerome It doesn’t go – (hums her improvement).

  Zoë I know it doesn’t. It goes – (hums her version of the original).

  Jerome No, it doesn’t go – (hums her version of the original). It goes – (hums the original).

  Zoë Well – (hums the original) – then. I still think it would be better if it went – (hums her improvement).

  Jerome No, it wouldn’t.

  Zoë It would.

  Jerome It wouldn’t.

  Zoë Why not?

  Jerome Because it doesn’t go like that. That’s not the way it goes.

  Zoë I know it doesn’t. I’m saying, perhaps it should.

  Jerome (angry now) No, it shouldn’t. It goes the way it goes because it goes that way –

  Zoë Why? Why does it, necessarily?

  Jerome (yelling) Because that’s the way it goes, that’s why. Because I wrote it that way and I’m the one that matters.

  Zoë (defensively) All right! Yes! (A pause.) There’s no need to shout at me. I’m not your machine, you know.