by Ian Shimwell
OLD TOM: I suspect that following the van will provide some answers.
TRENCH: And I’ll try to speak to Harris himself.
OLD TOM: And Valeria… odd name don’t you think, Trench?
TRENCH: She did mention, her father, Harris’ apparent interest in the Cold War… but still… Old Tom, you talked about three impossible things – but you haven’t mentioned the third yet…
OLD TOM: The Handy Bank – what is a bank doing there – or is it just being handy? And besides, I have never heard of it.
TRENCH: You do keep yourself cocooned from the outside world, don’t you? I mean have you never heard of the Handy Bank? Unbelievable.
OLD TOM: No. Why, have you?
TRENCH: Err, now you come to mention it, no I haven’t. So, Old Tom, do we have a mystery here?
OLD TOM: A neighbour starts behaving very oddly: precise, regular and very loud music… and then silence – and a bank opens round the corner, slap, bang, right in the middle of a council estate…
TRENCH: You think there could be a connection?
OLD TOM: Let’s find out, shall we?
(A longer piece of mystery music indicates the end of Act One.)
Act Two
(TRENCH and DEBSY are walking along a pavement.)
TRENCH: And Old Tom also said that a visit to ‘The Handy Bank’ may prove, err handy.
DEBSY: So, we’ve had another cosy chat with our youthfully-challenged friend, have we?
TRENCH: Oh, don’t say you’re going to get all jealous about it, like Sally-Anne did.
DEBSY: Nah, I’m not jealous, just interested. If chatting to your special friend floats your boat and somehow helps you, then feel free. And before you say it, don’t worry – I won’t visit the old dear – unless invited of course.
TRENCH: ‘The Handy Bank’, we’ve arrived. And remember we’re married and so on.
DEBSY: Stop panicking, Trenny – I have read the script.
TRENCH: And remember to put a fashion glove on your left hand, you know, to hide the wedding ring you’re not wearing.
DEBSY: I’ll put my gloves on both hands. Just wearing one glove would look, well odd.
TRENCH: You are odd, Debsy.
DEBSY: Wait till I get you home, hubby.
(They chuckle slightly. Light music moves things on a bit.)
TRENCH: It’s so hard to see a bank manager these days, so thank-you Mr Williams for agreeing to see us at such short notice.
WILLIAMS: Don’t mention it, Trench. Please, both of you, sit down.
(They sit down.)
DEBSY: Lovely office, Mr Williams. I’m in particular fond of that huge abstract art painting – so colourful… so contemporary.
WILLIAMS: I like it.
(A buzzer goes off on WILLIAMS’ desk.)
WILLIAMS: Do you mind if Greg Hyde joins us? He’s a trainee manager and meetings like this will probably bring him on a bit.
TRENCH: Not at all.
(GREG HYDE opens the door, enters the office and sits down.)
GREG HYDE: It’s all right – I’ll just make some notes. Carry on as if I’m not here.
WILLIAMS: Thanks Greg. Right, full names and personal details first. You are Mr and Mrs..?
TRENCH & DEBSY: (Who speak at the same time:) TRENCH: Smith. DEBSY: Jones. (Then:) TRENCH: Jones. DEBSY: Smith.
TRENCH: Err, Smith-Jones.
DEBSY: You know, hyphenated.
TRENCH: Double-barrelled.
WILLIAMS: Yes, I am aware of what that means. I know, let’s leave all the boring stuff till later. First, what can I do for you?
DEBSY: Trench and, err I mean my husband and I would like to buy a house on the estate.
WILLIAMS: Whereabouts, Debsy? Purely as a matter of interest, you understand.
TRENCH: There’s a house for sale near our friend, Mr Harris.
(GREG HYDE coughs and drops his pen.)
GREG HYDE: Oops sorry, clumsy me.
DEBSY: Here let me, Greg. Here’s your pen back.
GREG HYDE: Thanks, Debsy.
WILLIAMS: What’s got into you, Greg?
GREGHYDE: Sorry sir – it’s just that I didn’t realise there was a house for sale near the Harris’s.
TRENCH: Maybe you’re mistaken, darling – it might be on the next block.
DEBSY: I knew it would be my fault.
WILLIAMS: It’s no matter – the Handy Bank does not offer mortgages anyway.
TRENCH: But all banks do mortgages.
WILLIAMS: We don’t – we’re different. The Handy Bank’s remit is simply to serve local customers with only basic financial services.
TRENCH: Can I open a current account, then?
WILLIAMS: Before, you mentioned you were both journalists – I’m afraid your salaries will probably be too high to qualify for one of our current accounts.
TRENCH: You’ve obviously never worked for Editor Law!
WILLIAMS: Sorry.
DEBSY: So, you can’t help us then?
WILLIAMS: I’m afraid not Miss.
DEBSY: It’s Mrs actually – I am married, you know – to my husband!
WILLIAMS: Of course.
TRENCH: Well, thanks for nothing Mr Williams – and Mr Greg Hyde. Did you learn anything, by the way, Greg?
GREG HYDE: My father says that we’re learning all the time.
WILLIAMS: Goodbye then, I’m sorry we couldn’t be of more assistance.
(They get up to go, but TRENCH swings round.)
TRENCH: I couldn’t bring my piggy bank in, by any chance, could I?
(Whimsical yet thoughtful music changes the scene.)
(TRENCH and DEBSY are back outside, walking along the pavement.)
DEBSY: Would you believe it? A bank that doesn’t want customers.
TRENCH: Well not us, anyway. Do we smell or something?
DEBSY: Speak for yourself!
TRENCH: And your Greg Hyde knew where the Harris’s lived.
DEBSY: Yes, yes he did. What do you mean, ‘your Greg Hyde’?
TRENCH: Oh, nothing. Where did you leave your car, Debsy?
DEBSY: Just over there.
TRENCH: And are you sure you’ll be all right following the white van?
DEBSY: I know I’m a woman, Trench – but I can actually drive. Err, I don’t think that came out quite right.
TRENCH: Maybe you’d be best sticking to Logic Problems.
(We hear the ignition start and the van starts to move.)
DEBSY: The white van! I’d better dash.
(DEBSY runs off.)
(The white van drives past TRENCH and we hear DEBSY follow in her car.)
TRENCH: Good luck, Debs!
(TRENCH walks for a bit longer.)
TRENCH: And I will see if I can have a chat with the elusive Mr Harris…
(TRENCH walks up the garden path.)
TRENCH: (Says quietly to himself:) His daughter has just left driving the van and it’s half past two – right in the middle of a previous noisy session, but now a silent session – so Harris should, at least, hear this.
(TRENCH knocks loudly on the door. After a few minutes, he tries again. There’s still no response.)
TRENCH: If at first you don’t succeed…
(TRENCH knocks again. It seems TRENCH will get no response.)
TRENCH: Maybe he’s out. Wait, I saw a shadow then – he’s in!
(The door opens … A brief spell of music moves the scene along.)
TRENCH: Minimalistic living room, Mr Harris – I err like it.
HARRIS: Trench, I know you’re here to cover my noisy behaviour but as you can see or hear, there is no longer a story.
TRENCH: Yes, it does seem to have gone rather… err quiet. You seemed to be wearing soiled work clothes..?
HARRIS: Yes I’m, err doing some work on the home.
TRENCH: (Says jokingly:) Are you sure you’re not digging a trench? I can’t believe I just said that!
HARRIS: Just knocking an internal wall down to cr
eate more room – you know how it is.
TRENCH: Forgive me, but where is the wall?
HARRIS: It’s… in the cellar.
TRENCH: I see. (Then says quietly to himself:) No I don’t.
HARRIS: So, you’re now reporting on DIY instead then?
TRENCH: Not exactly. I’m just curious to know why your noise pollution has so suddenly ceased.
HARRIS: What can I say? Mrs Jackson can be a very irritating woman.
TRENCH: And when you did go through your noisy period – why was the music blasting out at precise, regular intervals?
HARRIS: Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘mind your own business’?
TRENCH: As a matter of fact, yes I have on many occasions – but as I’m a roving reporter, I am trained to mind other people’s business. Where is Mrs Harris?
HARRIS: She deserted us many moons ago. Ran off with her works manager, if you must know. Leaving me to bring up Valeria all on my own.
TRENCH: Must have been difficult. Valeria? Sorry, but why choose such an eastern European name?
HARRIS: Simple – when the Communists finally take-over, she is likely to have more chances in life with a name like that.
TRENCH: So, was it me or did the record jump a track? Not that there’s any music playing now, you understand.
HARRIS: Mr Trench, you think the Cold War has ended and that the Soviet Revolution is all but forgotten? Think again – that’s what they want you to think. Even the gold shipped to America to pay off Britain’s war debt was eventually abused to covertly finance the Communists. McCarthy should have been much more ruthless with his so-called witch hunts. And the Communist conspiracy has spread its cancerous tentacles throughout all our society and then one day, one day…
TRENCH: One day, Mr Harris?
HARRIS: One day, you won’t know what’s hit you.
(Disturbing music changes the scene.)
DEBSY: Brian didn’t have the shortest wait and Denise has no children.
TRENCH: What on earth has that to do with the price of fish?
DEBSY: It’s this Logic Problem – I think I’m stuck.
(The office door is pushed open.)
EDITOR LAW: You will be stuck – without a job, unless you put down that damned puzzle book, Deborah.
DEBSY: I am entitled to an official break, you know. I had more breaks at Gilcrest Gadgets!
TRENCH: Debsy, you had nothing but breaks at Gilcrest Gadgets.
EDITOR LAW: I don’t follow.
TRENCH: Neither do I, Editor Law – it’s best just to humour her.
EDITOR LAW: Well, hurry up with those reports – the deadline’s fast approaching.
DEBSY: If you care to look on your desk, sir – you’ll find the completed reports waiting for you…
EDITOR LAW: Oh, right – I’ll be in my office then. Oh, Deborah – I think you’ll find Denise is only the girlfriend to Brian, concerning that logic thingumajig.
DEBSY: I knew it! Thanks boss!
(EDITOR LAW leaves the office.)
DEBSY: Right, before I became engrossed in my problems, well the logic ones anyway – I told you about my ‘follow that van’ adventure – what did you find out about Harris?
TRENCH: Only that he’s a grade A one nutcase. He’s not interested by the Cold War – he’s obsessed by it. And did you know a Communist conspiracy has infiltrated all levels of society, inevitably leading to a glorious new revolution or a Third World War or something?
DEBSY: No, Trenny – I didn’t. But, I’ve always had my suspicions about Editor Law…
TRENCH: Or do you mean Comrade Law? Or should we stop being silly?
DEBSY: (Who chuckles slightly.) You didn’t discover why Harris had gone so very quiet?
TRENCH: No, but I’m sure he’s up to something.
DEBSY: And is it somehow connected to the bank that does not want to listen?
TRENCH: And says… ‘no’!
(Thoughtful music changes the scene.)
(We can hear the usual background sounds of a pub-type atmosphere – talking, fruit machines and so on. TRENCH places the drinks on the table and sits down.)
DEBSY: Thanks for the drink, Trenny. (She takes a sip.)
TRENCH: I’m sure it’s your round…
DEBSY: So, are we supposed to be working undercover, yet again?
TRENCH: I don’t follow, Debsy.
DEBSY: Are we pretending to be man and wife just on the off-chance the bankers turn up in here?
TRENCH: What gives you that idea?
DEBSY: Oh, little things like this being the nearest pub to the council estate we’ve been investigating – and to the Handy Bank, come to think of it. Quite handy, actually.
TRENCH: I suppose we could kill two birds with one stone.
DEBSY: Meaning?
TRENCH: If the Handy Bankers do appear, let’s hold hands or something.
DEBSY: Is that what married people do?
TRENCH: But in the meantime, let’s enjoy another of our unofficial ‘dates’. I can’t be that bad company, can I?
DEBSY: Err…
TRENCH: The answer you’re looking for, Debs is no, Trench – you are wonderful company.
DEBSY: All I’m thinking is, instead of going on all these pretend dates, why – for a change – can’t we go on a real…
TRENCH: Wait, you’d never believe who just walked in.
DEBSY: Who?
TRENCH: Look, but keep your head down. It might be best if they don’t see us.
DEBSY: That’s silly, how can I look and keep my head down? Wow, it’s Greg Hyde and Valeria – together.
TRENCH: (Who whispers:) And they are all over each other like a rash.
DEBSY: Trench, stop whispering – they’ve gone to the bar now.
TRENCH: Oh, yes – So, there is a definite connection between the Harris’s and the bank.
DEBSY: But, is it significant?
TRENCH: Possibly. Oh, thanks by the way, Debsy.
DEBSY: What for?
TRENCH: For not bringing your Logic Problem out with you. And, drink up.
DEBSY: Why?
TRENCH: So, you can finally get a round in – discreetly of course.
DEBSY: Oh no.
TRENCH: What is it?
DEBSY: Greg and Valeria are coming to sit down at the table next to us.
TRENCH: Keep our backs to them and listen. We may find out something very useful… There is one problem though.
DEBSY: What this time?
TRENCH: It means you get out of buying me a drink, yet again!
(Light mystery music changes scene.)
OLD TOM: Fancy a bit, Trench?
TRENCH: I know it shouldn’t surprise me by now, but I can’t believe you are eating mouldy cheese on stale toast.
OLD TOM: Do you want some or not?
TRENCH: No, I do not.
OLD TOM: I’ve saved you a quarter. Try it, you might surprise yourself.
TRENCH: Oh, go on then. Don’t move from your armchair, I’ll reach over for it.
(TRENCH groans slightly as he reaches over for his cheese-on-toast.)
TRENCH: Here goes. (He tries a bit.) This is… err nice, no unbelievably gorgeous. Man, absolutely delicious. It shouldn’t be, but it is. I’ve never toasted cheese-on-toast like it! I mean tasted. You should patent it, Old Tom – you’d make a fortune.
OLD TOM: I have patience not patents, and that is the way I wish to keep it.
TRENCH: Oh, very good.
OLD TOM: And is dear Debsy still struggling with her Logic problem?
TRENCH: Yes, with struggling being the operative word. Don’t worry though, I’ll update you on her progress – or lack of.
OLD TOM: Good, you do that. Now, speaking of Debsy, you were about to inform me of her discovery after following the White Van Woman, Valeria.
TRENCH: Ah, yes. Well, the van only went to the local tip and dumped a load of rubble and earth.
OLD TOM: How interesting…
TRENCH: And
Debsy even had time to run into a man wearing a green hat – on the way back to the Herald! Maybe he’s part of the secret Communist Revolution too…
OLD TOM: Doubtful.
TRENCH: More likely to be a member of the Green Party!
OLD TOM: And noisy stroke quiet neighbour, Harris is a Cold War fanatic…
TRENCH: The other weird thing, is that when Harris shook my hand, as I was leaving – I could definitely feel specs of sand.
OLD TOM: I wonder…
TRENCH: Do you think Harris could be working on a very big job? This would explain the loud music – to mask his activity. But how come it’s gone all quiet? Has he finished?
OLD TOM: Or simply cannot be heard anymore? Hence, the music becomes unnecessary. Do you have any more on the bank that likes to say ‘no’? Messes Williams and Hyde?
TRENCH: This is where it gets even better. We overheard Greg and Valeria – an item by the way – talk about his past. He has a criminal record and you’ll never guess what for…
OLD TOM: Robbing a bank?
TRENCH: No way could you have known that.
OLD TOM: You did say I would never guess, so I did. But does Greg have anything further to hide?
TRENCH: A bank robber working at a bank – that’s handy! And at the Handy Bank.
OLD TOM: Yes, now let’s look at the evidence…
TRENCH: Round the corner from a not very useful but handy bank, strange goings-on happen at the Harris household. Loud music obscures… what? His daughter, Valeria removes the rubble and is seeing Greg Hyde, an ex-bank robber who’s also the trainee manager at the bank. Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Old Tom?
OLD TOM: What are you thinking?
TRENCH: Harris is digging a hole, a tunnel. Destination: the Handy Bank. And along with help from Hyde and his own daughter, the plan is to rob the bank and squirrel the no-doubt lucrative haul back through the tunnel to the Harris house! Well, what do you think?
OLD TOM: Your speculative summary at least seems… logical.
TRENCH: So, what should we do about it?
OLD TOM: Oh, that’s quite simple, Trench. I think we should start doing a little digging of our own, don’t you?
(A longer piece of mystery music indicates the end of Act Two.)
Act Three
TRENCH: Come on, hurry up Debsy – it’s cold out here. Ah, there she is.
