by Mike Leigh
LAURENCE: I’ll move it in a minute.
BEVERLY: D’you get something to eat?
LAURENCE: No.
BEVERLY: No? I had to throw your pizza away, I’m sorry.
[Beverly gets from fridge two small platesful of home-made cheese-and-pineapple savouries, each consisting of one cube of cheese and one chunk of pineapple on a cocktail stick.
Laurence opens desk. Gets case. Opens notebook. Goes to phone.
Beverly returns, puts plates on coffee-table.]
LAURENCE: Just got to make a couple of phone calls.
BEVERLY: D’you want me to make you a little sandwich?
LAURENCE: No, I must get these out of the way first.
BEVERLY: Laurence, you want to have your bath and get changed: they’re going to be here soon.
LAURENCE: Yes.
[Beverly sits.]
Oh, is Mr O’Halligan there, please? O’Halligan. Yes. Well, he’s big. He’s bald, with red hair. Thank you.
[Pause.]
BEVERLY: Laurence, you’re going to get heartburn.
LAURENCE: Mr O’Halligan? Mr Moss here, Wibley Webb. Hullo. D’you realize I’ve been trying to contact you all afternoon? I know you’ve been out! Now, where’s that key to 15 Clittingham Avenue? Ah, but you were supposed to have it back before lunch! That’s no good, I need it now. Will you be in tomorrow morning? Tonight! Where? Belfast? What time’s your plane? All right, train then. A party? I thought you just said you were going to Belfast! Well, what time are you going to Kilburn? Well, what time are you having your bath? I’m not asking you to bath in cold water – I just want the key to 15 Clittingham Avenue; I’ve got another client who wants to view the property. What about you, Mr O’Halligan? Well, Mr O’Halligan, if you’d like to come in on Monday morning with your deposit, and go ahead and get in touch with your Building Society we’ll see how things go. Now what about this key? All right, I will come and get it! Now!
BEVERLY: Laurence – no!
LAURENCE: Yes, I’ve got the address. Yes, I know how to get there. Okay – I’ll see you shortly – Goodbye! [He hangs up.] Stupid man.
BEVERLY: Oh, Christ, Laurence.
LAURENCE: What?
BEVERLY: How long’s all this going to take, please?
LAURENCE: Oh, yes – I’m sorry. It won’t take long. [He dials another number.]
BEVERLY: D’you get those lagers?
LAURENCE: Er, no: I didn’t have time.
BEVERLY: Laurence! [Pause.] Well, you’d better get them when you go out, and don’t forget, please.
LAURENCE: Hullo, Mrs Cushing? Laurence Moss here, Wibley Webb! Yes, Mrs Cushing, we have run him to ground, and you’ll be happy to know that I’m now in the throes of retrieving the key!
[Beverly gets herself another drink.]
Not at all, not at all – all part of the service! Ah. Ah, yes … now, when would be best for you? No, no, I’ll fall in with you, Mrs Cushing. How about tomorrow morning?
BEVERLY: Laurence!
LAURENCE: My pleasure, Mrs Cushing, my pleasure. Now, what time would suit you best? No, I’m at your service, Mrs Cushing: he who pays the piper calls the tune! You name the hour, and I shall appear! No, really: I insist. What time? Eight o’clock? Sure, surely.
BEVERLY: Laurence!!
LAURENCE: Early? Not at all, Mrs Cushing – up with the lark, you know. Don’t mention it, Mrs Cushing, it’s my privilege. ’Bye, Mrs Cushing – see you tomorrow morning! ’Bye now! [He hangs up.]
BEVERLY: You’re going to kill yourself, you know, Laurence.
LAURENCE: Yes. Well, it can’t be helped.
BEVERLY: It’s ridiculous.
LAURENCE: It’s not a nine to five job – you know that, Beverly.
BEVERLY: You can say that again.
[Laurence sits with Beverly.]
You gonna get changed?
LAURENCE: Yes. I’ll drink this; I’ll get changed; then I’ll go out.
BEVERLY: And don’t forget those lagers.
LAURENCE: Beverly; where are the olives?
BEVERLY: In the kitchen, Laurence. Laurence, if you want olives, would you put them out, please?
[The front door bell chimes.]
LAURENCE [jumping up]: They’re early, aren’t they?
BEVERLY: No, they’re not. And you’ve not changed.
LAURENCE: I know that. [He goes to answer the door.] Beverly, get the olives.
[Beverly composes herself, then rises, and prepares to receive guests. Meanwhile, offstage:]
ANGELA: Hello, you must be Laurence!
LAURENCE: That’s right.
ANGELA: I’m Angie.
LAURENCE: Do go in, won’t you?
ANGELA: Thank you. This is my husband, Tony.
TONY: How d’you do.
LAURENCE: Hullo.
[They come in.]
BEVERLY: Hi, Ang.
ANGELA: Hello, Beverly – what a lovely dress!
BEVERLY: Thanks.
ANGELA: Were we meant to wear long?
BEVERLY: No, no, it’s just informal, you know, so …
ANGELA: This is my husband, Tony.
BEVERLY: How d’you do, pleased to meet you.
TONY: How d’you do.
BEVERLY: He’s got a firm handshake, hasn’t he?
ANGELA: Yes.
BEVERLY: Yeah, fantastic. Like to go through?
TONY: Ta.
ANGELA: This is the suite I was telling you about. It’s nice, isn’t it?
TONY: Lovely.
ANGELA: We’ve just bought a new three-piece suite, but ours isn’t real leather, like this – it’s ‘leather look’.
BEVERLY: Oh, the Leather Look? Great.
LAURENCE: Drink?
TONY: Yes, please.
BEVERLY: Laurence, would you like to take Angela’s coat, please?
LAURENCE: Surely.
ANGELA: Thanks.
LAURENCE: Pleasure.
[Laurence takes coat out.]
BEVERLY: It’s funny, ’cos he’s a lot bigger than I thought he was. Yeah … ’cos I’ve seen him across the road, Ang, and I thought he was about the same size as Laurence –
ANGELA: Oh, no …
BEVERLY: – but he’s not, he’s a lot bigger, yeah, great. Would you like a drink?
TONY: Yes, please.
BEVERLY: What would you like?
TONY: Bacardi-and-Coke, please.
BEVERLY: Ice and lemon?
TONY: Yes, please.
BEVERLY: Great. How about you, Ang?
ANGELA: Have you got gin?
BEVERLY: Gin-and-tonic?
ANGELA: Please.
BEVERLY: Ice and lemon?
ANGELA: Yes, please.
BEVERLY: Great.
[Enter Laurence.]
Laurence, would you like to get the drinks, please? Tony would like Bacardi-and-Coke with ice and lemon, Angela would like a gin-and-tonic with ice and lemon, and I’d like a little fill-up, okay?
LAURENCE: Surely.
BEVERLY: D’you like lager, Tony?
TONY: I’ll be all right with Bacardi, thank you.
BEVERLY: No – as a chaser, a little bit later on; because Laurence is gonna get some.
TONY: It’ll be okay, thank you.
BEVERLY: Or a light ale. Which d’you prefer?
TONY: Light ale.
BEVERLY: Light ale? Laurence, would you get some light ale as well, please?
LAURENCE: Yes.
BEVERLY: Actually, Ang, it’s going to be really nice, because I’ve invited Sue from Number 9.
ANGELA: Oh, lovely.
BEVERLY: Yeah, so I thought it’d be nice for you to meet her as well. Yeah, ’cos her daughter’s having a party. Well, she’s only a teenager, so I said, well, pop down and spend the evening with us.
ANGELA: That’d be really nice, ’cos I want to meet all the neighbours.
BEVERLY: Yeah, just say hello, Ang, and break the ice.
ANGELA: ’Cos that was what was so ni
ce when you came over, ’cos it really made me feel at home.
BEVERLY: Well, Ang, I know what I felt like when I moved in – I was lonely. So I thought, well, that’s not going to happen to you.
ANGELA: Well, you’re the friendly type, aren’t you?
BEVERLY: Yeah, yeah. It’s funny, ’cos as soon as we met, I knew we were gonna get on.
ANGELA: Well, we’re alike, aren’t we?
BEVERLY: Yeah, yeah.
[Laurence gives them their drinks.]
Thanks.
ANGELA: Thanks.
[Laurence gives Tony his drink.]
TONY: Thank you.
BEVERLY: Cheers, everyone!
ANGELA: Cheers!
BEVERLY: Cheers, Tone!
TONY: Cheers.
[Laurence gets his glass from the coffee-table.]
LAURENCE: Cheers!
ANGELA: Cheers!
BEVERLY: What are you doing, darling? Are you staying, or going?
LAURENCE: Er, I’ll stay for a while.
BEVERLY: Laurence has to pop out on business, I’m afraid, so … Now: anybody like a cigarette? Laurence, would you, please?
[Laurence offers cigarette box.]
BEVERLY: Angela?
ANGELA: No, thanks.
BEVERLY: Tony, would you like a cigarette?
TONY: No, thank you.
ANGELA: We’ve just given up.
BEVERLY: Oh, yeah. Sorry!
LAURENCE: Now, who’d like some olives?
BEVERLY: Not for me. Ang?
ANGELA: No, thanks.
BEVERLY: Tony, d’you like olives?
TONY: No, I don’t.
BEVERLY: No, they’re horrible, aren’t they?
ANGELA: Yes.
BEVERLY: They’ve got a very bitter taste, haven’t they, Ang?
ANGELA: Yes.
BEVERLY: I told you nobody’d like olives, Laurence.
LAURENCE: Not nobody, Beverly: I like olives. And that’s twenty-five per cent of the assembled company.
ANGELA: We’ve met you before, haven’t we?
LAURENCE: Really?
ANGELA: He is the one you remember, isn’t he?
TONY: Yeah.
ANGELA: D’you remember us? We came looking for a house.
LAURENCE: I can’t say I do; of course, we see a lot of clients.
TONY: We saw a lot of estate agents.
ANGELA: Yes, we went to all the ones in the area. We got the house from Spencer’s in the end – Anthony Spencer.
BEVERLY: Oh, Anthony Spencer, yeah, yeah.
ANGELA: Well, it was Nicholas Spencer who was dealing with us.
BEVERLY: Yeah?
ANGELA: He’s very nice. D’you know him?
LAURENCE: Yes, I know him.
ANGELA: Have you seen those boards they have outside?
BEVERLY: Ang, aren’t they beautiful?
ANGELA: Yes, they’re lovely. With the house and the family and the car and the tree. When I saw them I thought, ‘I hope we get a house with one of those boards.’ I expect they sell a lot of houses because of the boards. Don’t you think so?
LAURENCE: No, actually, I don’t.
ANGELA: Oh, don’t you? We were very lucky, actually, ’cos we got the price of the house down from twenty-two thousand to twenty-one thousand.
BEVERLY: Really? Oh, that is fantastic, Ang, that’s really great.
[During following, Beverly offers cheese-pineapple savouries to Angela and Tony. So does Laurence, though superfluously as it turns out. Tony says ‘Ta’ where appropriate.]
BEVERLY: Is it your first house?
ANGELA: Yes, we were in a furnished flat before.
BEVERLY: Oh, that’s a bit grim, isn’t it, furnished flat? Yeah.
ANGELA: Yes. Well it was nice for us while we were saving.
BEVERLY: Yeah.
ANGELA: But the trouble is, with it being furnished, it means we haven’t got much furniture of our own together yet.
BEVERLY: Yeah, and you feel it when you move, don’t you?
ANGELA: Yes.
BEVERLY: Mind you, Ang, your house is smaller than this one, yeah, because I know they are smaller on your side, yeah.
ANGELA: Yes. Mmm. These are lovely.
BEVERLY: Yes, they’re dainty, aren’t they?
[Beverly has sat down again.]
Your bed arrived yet, Ang?
ANGELA: Oh, don’t talk about that – it’s a sore point.
BEVERLY: Is it?
ANGELA: Well, it’s funny, really … ’cos I came back from work today, ’cos I’m not working nights any more, I’m on days.
BEVERLY: Yeah?
ANGELA: And I came home, and I saw this big parcel in the hall, and I saw his face, and he was looking furious, and I thought, What’s happened? … and you know what? The bed-head had arrived, and no bed.
BEVERLY: No, Ang! Laurence, did you hear that? How many weeks ago is it you ordered that bed, Ang?
ANGELA: Four.
BEVERLY: Four weeks ago they ordered a bed, and it still hasn’t arrived. It’s disgusting.
LAURENCE: Well, you can’t trust anybody these days.
ANGELA: No.
BEVERLY: It’s disgraceful. I mean, you’ve been sleeping on the floor, haven’t you, Ang?
ANGELA: Yes. Well, we’ve got a mattress from Tony’s mum, but it’s not the same.
BEVERLY: No. Well, let’s face it, Tone, you can’t do much with a bed-head, can you? D’you know what I mean?
[Pause.]
LAURENCE: What line of business are you in?
BEVERLY: Oh, really, Tone? That’s funny, ’cos my brother’s in computers, actually.
ANGELA: Is he?
BEVERLY: Yeah, he’s a … programmes analyst.
ANGELA: Oh, yes? Tony’s, just an operator.
BEVERLY: I know it’s a fantastic job, though, Tone, ’cos my brother, he had to go to college and get exams. I mean, he was studying for years, wasn’t he, Laurence?
LAURENCE: Oh, yes.
BEVERLY: Did you have to do all that, Tone? – go to college?
ANGELA: You didn’t really, did you?
TONY: No.
ANGELA: No.
BEVERLY: I know it is a fantastic job, though, Tone, ’cos my brother, he’s got a fabulous house and he gets great wages, y’know? Yeah.
LAURENCE: Nine to five, is it?
TONY: No, it’s not, actually; there’s quite a bit of variation.
ANGELA: Shift-work.
TONY: It’s a two-weekly system: one week I work from eight in the morning till four in the afternoon, and the following week I work from four till midnight. I get every other Saturday off.
BEVERLY: Oh, great. Were you off today, Tone?
TONY: Yeah, I was, actually.
ANGELA: Yes. It’s lucky, ’cos if I’m working on a Saturday, he can do all the shopping.
LAURENCE: Oh, yes? Where do you shop?
LAURENCE: Ah, we usually go to the Co-op: I find they have a much wider range of goods there.
BEVERLY: Don’t you find shopping boring, though, Ang?
ANGELA: Mmm.
BEVERLY: Oh, I do – I hate it. He takes me down in the car, and I get me wheely, Tone, and I whizz in, and I grab anything I can see, and I bung it in the wheely, he writes me a cheque, we bung it in the car, bring it home, and it’s done for the week, d’you know what I mean?
LAURENCE: Beverly is not very organized: she doesn’t believe in making shopping-lists. You have a car, do you?
TONY: Yeah.
ANGELA: Yes, an Escort.
LAURENCE: A yellow one?
ANGELA: That’s it.
LAURENCE: Yes, I’ve seen it.
BEVERLY: Yeah, it’s beautiful, actually.
ANGELA: Beverly was saying you only like Minis.
LAURENCE: No, not at all. I don’t only like Minis – I like lots of other cars. But I find the Mini economical, efficient and reliable, and the most suited to my purposes. Of course, I change my car e
very year.
BEVERLY: Yeah, but what I say, Ang, is this: What is the point of changing your car if all you change is the colour?
LAURENCE: That’s not all you change, Beverly; the design does alter. But then you’re not a motorist, so of course you just don’t understand these things.
BEVERLY: Yeah, okay. I know I failed my test three times.
LAURENCE: Three times.
BEVERLY: But, I’m his wife, Ang, and I reckon a wife should have a little say in the choosing of a car.
LAURENCE: Well, when you’ve passed your test, Beverly, then you can have your little say. Until then, please leave it to me.
BEVERLY: Let me put it to you this way, Ang. When we chose the furniture, we chose it together; when we chose the house, we chose it together; but, when it comes to the car, I’m not allowed to have a say.
[Laurence goes.]
Don’t forget those light ales!
LAURENCE: No – and the lagers, yes!
ANGELA: You going to take your test again?
BEVERLY: Yeah, I’m going to have another try, yeah. Don’t get me wrong, Tone, it’s not that I can’t drive – in fact I’m a good driver, but, let me put it to you this way, when I get to my test my nerves fail me, d’you know what I mean? I mean it was me nerves that failed me the last time, to be honest with you, because you know the way they take you out in threes, Tone, right? I started off behind this bloke – he was a Chinese bloke actually. Now: my bloke had told me to turn left, right? Now, we came to the first Give Way, and the bloke in front slammed his brakes on. Now, I’m going behind him, and I suppose I’m going a little bit too quick with me nerves; so I slam on my brakes, and I went slap in the back of him.
ANGELA: Ah.
BEVERLY: Now, I reckon that prejudiced my examiner against me.
ANGELA: What a shame.
BEVERLY: Yeah, it was, actually. Can you drive, Ang?
ANGELA: No. I’d like to learn, but Tony won’t let me. He doesn’t think I’d be any good. And it’s a shame, ’cos it’s so awkward for me to get to work since we’ve moved.
BEVERLY: Is it, yeah?
ANGELA: And you see, I could use the car when he wasn’t working.
BEVERLY: And that would make you completely independent of Tone, wouldn’t it?
[Pause.]
D’you pass your test first time, Tone?
TONY: Yeah.
BEVERLY: I thought so, actually – he looks the type, doesn’t he? [She goes to the bar.] Who’s for another drink? Ang?
ANGELA: Thanks.
BEVERLY: How about you, Tone?
TONY: Ta.
