by Ian Shimwell
OLD TOM: I presumed it wasn’t your colleague, Sally-Anne.
TRENCH: No, she isn’t the kissing type. At least as far as I’m concerned.
OLD TOM: Pass me a rich tea biscuit, will you?
TRENCH: Here, you’re not going to dunk it? You are going to dunk it.
OLD TOM: The question is: Who wants Mayflower Court to remain - and why?
TRENCH: Can I suggest you pull your biscuit out? It’ll go all soggy and fall apart.
OLD TOM; That’s just how I like it.
TRENCH: I should have guessed.
OLD TOM: Is Stonebridge who, as you said Trench, like Jenkins wants the Mayflower pulled out like a weed, somehow being maneuvered into saving these flats - my home?
TRENCH: I think so, but who by?
OLD TOM: By whom, dear boy, by whom. Possibly his wife, just to annoy him; his mistress stroke secretary might have her own agenda or Stonebridge himself may be playing some sort of double-game.
TRENCH: Or a government conspiracy stretching back to World War Two may have, financially, persuaded Stonebridge to slyly keep the flats standing.
OLD TOM: Another intriguing possibility, Trench. Do you still have your bag of marbles?
TRENCH: I haven’t lost them, if that’s what you mean, old timer.
OLD TOM: Good, because you will need all of them. We are entering the final phase of our investigation; more secrets will be uncovered…
TRENCH: So, what next?
OLD TOM: Pass me another biscuit, will you?
(A longer piece of mystery music indicates the end of Act Two.)
ACT THREE
(We hear TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE shuffling papers around and typing on keyboards at their desks.)
TRENCH: It’s all a horrible mess. It seems there are so many people with a motive for either the Mayflower flats to be saved or erased. Maybe they are all involved…
SALLY-ANNE: … or none of them.
TRENCH: Exactly.
SALLY-ANNE: I think the most likely ‘suspect’ is the Foreign Office. Governments can sink awfully low to preserve their petty secrets.
TRENCH: Yes, even a secret from so long ago. So, I’ll target the Foreign Office next - any ideas on how to actually do that?
SALLY-ANNE: My contact, Timothy can probably arrange an appointment to see a civil servant close to the Foreign Secretary.
TRENCH: Right, we’ll go and see him right away then.
SALLY-ANNE: Not we and not me - I’ve these features to type up. Editor Law will kill me if I don’t finish them. In fact you are supposed to be doing these too.
TRENCH: So, I’d better disappear before he turns up. Bye, my sweet Sally Anne.
SALLY-ANNE: See you, Trench-head.
(The office door shuts sharply and a brief bit of up-tempo music passes some more time.)
(TRENCH is walking along a busy street and we hear all the associated sounds with that.)
TRENCH: Typical, just when I want to cross the road, a car slows down and stops right in front of me.
(We hear the four car doors open almost at the same time and heavy footsteps.)
TRENCH: What do you guys want? Hey, leave me alone.
(A protesting TRENCH is bundled into the car. The doors are slammed shut and the car drives off at speed.)
TRENCH: I assume you’ve not kidnapped me to ask directions, so what’s this all about?
AGENT: We simply want to have a little chat. You have been asking some very awkward questions.
TRENCH: If it’s not too rude an enquiry, who are you?
AGENT: I could tell you my name, but then I would have to kill you.
TRENCH: (Who laughs nervously.) I don’t think names are important, anyway - I mean who cares? I don’t know your name and you don’t know mine - I call that fair.
AGENT: You are Trench, a reporter for the Stokeham Herald. You enjoy the old Sherlock Holmes films… I could go on. We know all about you.
TRENCH: Correction then, you do know my name… and my guilty secret. Can you tell me where you guys are from? Are you something to do with the Foreign Office?
(The AGENT exhales a slightly ironic breath.)
AGENT: Yes, you could say we are something to do with the Foreign Office…
TRENCH: Well, I’m glad that’s cleared up then. This has been awfully nice, but I really must be going. Goodbye.
(TRENCH tries to open the door as the car stops at the traffic lights, but finds it to be locked.)
TRENCH: On second thoughts, why not stay for a bit longer and have that cosy chat you promised me? Where are we going?
AGENT: To a very, very quiet place…
(The car drives for a bit longer and then, finally stops.)
TRENCH: So, we’ve arrived - a disused and derelict industrial estate. Can I start panicking now? Are you going to kill me?
AGENT: If we had wanted you dead, you already would be. We simply want a quiet chat, free from interruption.
TRENCH: So, what are we going to talk about? The FA Cup shock last night?
AGENT: Your enquiries concerning Mayflower Court.
TRENCH: How do you even know about that?
AGENT: We have our means and methods.
TRENCH: Oh, very helpful.
AGENT: We are actually here to give you some information.
TRENCH: Really? Fire away then - if you’ll excuse the expression.
AGENT: It involves the incident at, what was to be, the Mayflower Court site - in the very last days of the Second World War. Accepted wisdom, claimed Hitler’s experimental V3 rockets never existed, but one such rocket actually reached this country - and landed…
TRENCH: … on the Mayflower site!
AGENT: Fortunately, the rocket did not detonate. Half of southern England would have been devastated if it had. A secret government war recovery team removed and disarmed the bomb.
TRENCH: Interesting… but all you’re really telling me is that now you have no interest in the Mayflower flats. You don’t really care if they stand or fall.
AGENT: Correct.
TRENCH: But how can I believe you? Maybe you’re telling me this just to shut me up. A cover story for a cover-up.
AGENT: We anticipated your doubting nature, so here are several top-secret pictures and reports confirming what I have stated. You will notice that certain documents are countersigned by Churchill himself.
(TRENCH examines the pictures and reports.)
TRENCH: It appears that you are telling the truth.
AGENT: You have a pleasant head, Trench - hang on to it. Now, you can go.
TRENCH: Right, bye bye then.
AGENT: Just one more thing, Trench, before you leave.
TRENCH: Yes?
AGENT: Can we have our secret papers back? They are still kind of rather important to us.
TRENCH: Oh yes, of course.
(TRENCH hands the papers back. The door opens and TRENCH climbs out of the car - the door closes.)
TRENCH: Wait a minute, you’re not leaving me here. I’m miles away from anywhere.
(His only answer is the car driving away.)
TRENCH: Oh, thanks a bunch.
(More music illustrates TRENCH’s long trek back.)
SALLY-ANNE: You look exhausted, Trench. Where’ve you been?
TRENCH: (Who breathes heavily.) You really, really, do not want to know this time.
SALLY-ANNE: Quick, Editor Law’s coming. Sit behind your desk and pretend you’ve been working all morning.
TRENCH: Oh, very well.
(TRENCH struggles behind his desk and makes the pretense of being in the middle of a lot of work by shuffling his papers around loudly.)
EDITOR LAW: Ah, Trench - good to see you doing some work, for a change.
TRENCH: Good morning, sir.
EDITOR LAW: Have you finished those features yet, Sally-Anne?
SALLY-ANNE: Yes, here they are. I couldn’t have finished them without Trench’s invaluable help though.
EDITOR LAW: Right, t
hanks err keep up the good work. (But then adds sternly:) Do keep away from old Stonebridge though.
TRENCH: The thought never entered my head…
(We hear EDITOR LAW leave the office.)
TRENCH: Thanks, Sally-Anne.
SALLY-ANNE: So, what really happened to you?
TRENCH: I really cannot tell you - official secrets and all that twaddle. But I can tell you that the government conspiracy theory dating back to the Second World War is completely irrelevant to our Mayflower flats investigation.
SALLY-ANNE: How can you know for sure?
TRENCH: I’ve seen the evidence; now trust me that line of inquiry is now over.
SALLY-ANNE: Which, I suppose, leaves us with our usual suspects.
TRENCH: Well, seeing as I’ve worked so hard on those features all morning…
SALLY-ANNE: A-hem.
TRENCH: I think I’ll have another chat with Old Tom. I’m sure we are close to cracking this case, just need to think…
SALLY-ANNE: Seeing good Old Tom? Can I come too?
TRENCH: (Says firmly :) No.
SALLY-ANNE: Oh.
TRENCH: I mean, it’s just a man thing. You understand, don’t you?
SALLY-ANNE: Male-bonding or something more… For all I know, this Old Tom may not even exist. I’ve never seen him. He could be your imaginary friend. A figment of your over-active imagination.
(There is a slight shuffle of movement.)
SALLY-ANNE: Ouch! What did you pinch me for?
TRENCH: I was just checking that you were really real.
SALLY-ANNE: Beast!
(We hear SALLY-ANNE playfully slap TRENCH.)
(More music moves the scene and time along.)
OLD TOM: Hmm, this bread and jam is lovely.
TRENCH: Don’t tell me Old Tom: the bread is stale - and the jam is well past its sell-by-date.
OLD TOM: You are learning, my boy. Would you put my plate back on my table?
TRENCH: Here.
(We hear TRENCH place the plate back on the table.)
OLD TOM: Now, back to business. I have pieced together everything you have told me - and nearly, very nearly have the solution to the Mayflower mystery. I think I know who - but the why, I can only guess at.
TRENCH: You do know who? Who?
OLD TOM: Oh come on, Trench. You have all the jigsaw pieces - you just need to place them in the right order. Think, think about all the people in this case…
TRENCH: Stonebridge; Editor Law I suppose; Jill Masterson … and Linda Stonebridge of course.
OLD TOM: Do not forget young Timothy and ex-Sergeant Jenkins.
TRENCH: Why them in particular?
OLD TOM: Think, think about the information they’ve told you. Information that you have already passed on to me…
TRENCH: Err…
OLD TOM: Come on. Think, Trench, think. How long… since the Mayflower was ‘planted’?
TRENCH: Yes! That’s it - of course. The answer to the Mayflower has been staring me in the face. The only thing that eludes me, is the final answer…
OLD TOM: Then go - go and get it.
(More music illustrates the quickening of pace and the building of suspense.)
TRENCH: Leave your coffee, Sally-Anne we’re leaving.
SALLY-ANNE: What, now?
TRENCH: Now.
(The music plays even faster. Scene and time move on.)
TRENCH: (Says emphasizing the ‘Ms’:) Ms Masterson.
JILL MASTERSON: Ace reporter, Trench and..?
SALLY-ANNE: …Sally-Anne.
JILL MASTERSON: (Says with evident sarcasm:) Stonebridge will be pleased to see you…
(The door opens.)
STONEBRIDGE: Thanks, Jill - no, he is far from pleased. How long do you plan to harass me over those damned flats? True, I admit it would make great business sense for them to come down… So, what is the problem?
TRENCH: The problem is… there are other considerations - am I right?
STONEBRIDGE: What are you talking about?
TRENCH: I wasn’t talking to you, Mr Stonebridge, on that occasion. I was talking to you… Jill Masterson.
JILL MASTERSON: (Who laughs.) Have you completely gone out of your mind, Mr Trench? I think it’s time for you to leave.
TRENCH: Time? Yes, time - it is very important.
JILL MASTERSON: Will you throw him out, Sam - or shall I?
STONEBRIDGE: May as well let him have his say now - and then we’ll throw him out. And have words with his editor…
TRENCH: Thank-you Mr Stonebridge. Where was I? Ah yes, time. It is thirty years since the Mayflower flats were built; thirty years since Sergeant Jenkins left the Police Force - and thirty years since your father died, Jill. Also, by coincidence, thirty years have passed since there was a diamond heist in this area. Jill, is there a connection? Tell us the connection? Please…
(There is a moment of expectant silence.)
JILL MASTERSON: (Who sighs.) All right, I’ll tell you then. Yes, yes there is a connection. My father was a career criminal - and he became an unofficial partner of, bent copper, Sergeant Jenkins. Together, they masterminded a relatively big job - and robbed a stash of diamonds from an export jeweler. The ‘loot’ was buried under what is now Mayflower Court. While my father was being ‘questioned’ by Jenkins - he died in police custody. Jenkins, the greedy…
TRENCH: Which leaves Jenkins to have the diamonds all to himself.
JILL MASTERSON: Only that, he couldn’t. When Jenkins went to claim the diamonds, the foundations of Mayflower Court had already been laid.
TRENCH: That explains an awful lot…
JILL MASTERSON: I cannot even remember seeing my father… and although I can never prove that Jenkins was responsible for his death - I can do the next best thing: Ensure the Mayflower flats remain standing, so ex-Sergeant Jenkins can never get his dirty hands on the jewels. It pleases me to know that he knows where the diamonds are - but cannot touch them.
STONEBRIDGE: So, was that the only reason for our affair, Jill? To encourage me to influence their editor to stir up trouble over them damned flats?
JILL MASTERSON: It was at first - but funnily enough, Sam… you were actually very good. I quite enjoyed our many sessions…
SALLY-ANNE: Very good, eh? I don’t suppose you are free any spare night, Mr Stonebridge? We could go for a meal or something and then, and then…
TRENCH: Sally-Anne.
SALLY-ANNE: I know, shut up Sally-Anne.
JILL MASTERSON: So, Trench - what are you going to do? A complete expos`e on the whole story? I suppose it will be quite a scoop for you?
STONEBRIDGE: I will make it worth your while - if you’ll keep quite.
TRENCH: There is no cause to worry. As long as Mayflower Court remains, there is no need for me to say or do anything.
(Softer music changes the scene and time.)
(We hear TRENCH walking along the outside balcony-corridors of Mayflower Court.)
TRENCH: Ah, Mr. Jenkins, I’m glad I bumped into you. I have some wonderful news.
JENKINS: Excellent, so when are they sending the bulldozers in to finally flatten this useless pile of concrete? The sooner, the better. You can give me a date, can’t you?
TRENCH: Oh yes, the date is only next month…
(We hear JENKINS rubbing his hands with glee.)
JENKINS: Earlier than I dared to hope…
TRENCH: … when the Mayflower Refurbishment Project is due to begin.
JENKINS: (Who says not quite believing:) So, the flats are not going?
TRENCH: Mayflower Court is here to stay. Isn’t that wonderful, ex-Sergeant Jenkins?
JENKINS: Err, yes - I suppose.
(A brief interlude of music moves things on a little bit.)
TRENCH: So, Old Tom, what do you think of this week’s Stokeham Herald headline?
