An Inspector Calls and Other Plays

by J. B. Priestley

  Act Three

  KAY is sitting just as we left her at the end of Act One, and we can still hear MRS CONWAY singing Schumann’s ‘Der Nussbaum’. Nothing happens until the song has ended and we have heard some applause and voices from the party, but then ALAN enters and switches on the lights. We see that the room and everything in it is exactly as they were before. Only KAY herself has changed. Something – elusive, a brief vision, a score of shadowy presentiments – is haunting her. She is deeply disturbed. She throws a look or two at the room, as if she had just seen it in some other guise. She looks at ALAN, puzzled. He grins and rubs his hands a little

  ALAN: Well, Kay?

  KAY [as if to break into something important]: Alan – [Breaks off.]

  ALAN: Yes?

  KAY [hurriedly]: No – nothing.

  ALAN [looking more closely at her]: I believe you’ve been asleep – while mother was singing.

  KAY [confusedly]: No. I was sitting here – listening. I turned the light out. No, I didn’t fall asleep – I don’t know, perhaps I did – just for a second. It couldn’t have been longer.

  ALAN: You’d know if you’d been asleep.

  KAY [looking about her, slowly]: No, I wasn’t asleep. But – quite suddenly – I thought I saw … we were…. Anyhow, you came into it, I think, Alan.

  ALAN [amused and puzzled]: Came into what?

  KAY: I can’t remember. And I know I was listening to mother singing all the time. I’m – a bit – wuzzy.

  ALAN: Most of the people are going now. You’d better go and say good night.

  [HAZEL enters, carrying plate on which is enormous piece of sticky, rich, creamy cake. She has already begun to tackle this as she moves in.]

  KAY [seeing her]: Hazel, you greedy pig! [Deftly swoops up a bit of the cake and eats it.]

  HAZEL [talking with her mouth rather full]: I didn’t come in here just to eat this.

  KAY: Course you did!

  HAZEL: They’re all saying good night now, and I’m dodging that little horror Gerald Thornton brought.

  KAY [hastily]: I must say my piece to them. [Hurries off.]

  [ALAN lingers.]

  ALAN [after a pause]: Hazel!

  HAZEL [mouth full]: Um?

  ALAN [with elaborate air of casualness]: What’s Joan Helford going to do now?

  HAZEL: Oh – just mooch round a bit.

  ALAN: I thought I heard her saying she was going away – I was wondering if she was leaving Newlingham.

  HAZEL: She’s only going to stay with her aunt. Joan’s always staying with aunts. Why can’t we have aunts planted all over the place?

  ALAN: There’s Aunt Edith.

  HAZEL: And a doctor’s house in Wolverhampton! Ghastly! [Quick change of tone. Teasingly] Anything else you’d like to know about Joan?

  ALAN [confused]: No – no. I – just wondered. [Turns to go and almost bumps into ERNEST, who is wearing a very shabby mackintosh-raincoat and carrying a bowler hat. As soon as HAZEL sees who it is, she turns away and has another dab at her cake. ALAN stops and so does ERNEST.] Oh! – you going?

  ERNEST [a man who knows his own mind]: In a minute. [He obviously waits for ALAN to clear out.]

  ALAN [rather confused]: Yes – well – [Makes a move.]

  HAZEL [loudly and clearly]: Alan, you’re not going?

  [She looks across, completely ignoring ERNEST, who waits, not perhaps quite as cool as he would appear on the surface, for the hat he is clutching moves a bit.]

  ALAN [not at home in this]: Yes – have to say good night and get their coats and things – you know – [Goes out.]

  [HAZEL attends to her cake, and then looks, without a smile, at ERNEST.]

  ERNEST: I just looked in to say good night, Miss Conway.

  HAZEL [blankly]: Oh – yes – of course. Well –

  ERNEST [cutting in]: It’s been a great pleasure to me to come here and meet you all.

  [He waits a moment. She finds herself compelled to speak.]

  HAZEL [same tone]: Oh – well –

  ERNEST [cutting in again]: Especially you. I’m new round here, y’know. I’ve only been in the place about three months. I bought a share in that paper mill – Eckersley’s – out at West Newlingham – you know it?

  HAZEL [no encouragement from her]: No.

  ERNEST: Thought you might have noticed it. Been there long enough. Matter of fact it wants rebuilding. But that’s where I am. And I hadn’t been here a week before I noticed you, Miss Conway.

  HAZEL [who knows it only too well]: Did you?

  ERNEST: Yes. And I’ve been watching out for you ever since. I expect you’ve noticed me knocking about.

  HAZEL [loftily]: No, I don’t think I have.

  ERNEST: Oh – yes – you must have done. Come on now. Admit it.

  HAZEL [her natural self coming out now]: Well, if you must know, I have noticed you –

  ERNEST [pleased]: I thought so.

  HAZEL [rapidly and indignantly]: Because I thought you behaved very stupidly and rudely. If you want to look silly yourself – that’s your affair – but you’d no right to make me look silly too –

  ERNEST [rather crushed]: Oh! I didn’t know – it’ud been as bad as that –

  HAZEL [feeling she has the upper hand]: Well, it has.

  [He stares at her, perhaps having moved a little closer. She does not look at him at first, but then is compelled to meet his hard stare. There is something about this look that penetrates to the essential weakness of her character.]

  ERNEST [coming up again now]: I’m sorry. Though I can’t see anybody’s much the worse for it. After all, we’ve only one life to live, let’s get on with it, I say. And in my opinion, you’re the best-looking girl in this town, Miss Hazel Conway. I’ve been telling you that – in my mind – for the last two months. But I knew it wouldn’t be long before I got to know you. To tell you properly. [Looks hard at her. She does not like him but is completely helpless before this direct attack. He nods slowly.] I expect you’re thinking I’m not much of a chap. But there’s a bit more in me than meets the eye. A few people have found that out already, and a lot more’ll find it out before so long – here in Newlingham. You’ll see. [Changes his tone, because he is uncertain on purely social matters, almost humble now.] Would it be all right – if I – sort of – called to see you – some time soon?

  HAZEL [coming to the top again]: You’d better ask my mother.

  ERNEST [jocularly]: Oh! – sort of Ask Mamma business, eh?

  HAZEL [confused and annoyed]: No – didn’t mean it like that at all. I meant that this is mother’s house –

  ERNEST: Yes, but you’re old enough now to have your own friends, aren’t you?

  HAZEL: I don’t make friends with people very quickly.

  ERNEST [with appalling bluntness]: Oh! I’d heard you did.

  HAZEL [haughtily, angrily]: Do you mean to say you’ve been discussing me with people?

  ERNEST: Yes. Why not?

  [They stare at one another, ERNEST coolly and deliberately and HAZEL with attempted hauteur, when MADGE and ROBIN enter together, in the middle of a talk.]

  ROBIN [who is in great form]: Golly yes! It was a great lark. We weren’t in uniform, y’know. I did some stoking. Hard work, but a great stunt.

  MADGE [hotly]: It wasn’t. You ought to have been ashamed of yourselves.

  ROBIN [surprised]: Why?

  MADGE: Because helping to break a strike and being a blackleg isn’t a lark and a stunt. Those railwaymen were desperately anxious to improve their conditions. They didn’t go on strike for fun. It was a very serious thing for them and for their wives and families. And then people like you, Robin, think it’s amusing when you try to do their work and make the strike useless. I think it’s shameful the way the middle classes turn against the working class.

  ROBIN [rather out of his depth now]: But there had to be some sort of train service.

  MADGE: Why? If the public had to do without trains altogether, they might realize t
hen that the railwaymen have some grievances.

  ERNEST [sardonically]: They might. But I’ve an idea they’d be too busy with their own grievance – no trains. And you only want a few more railway strikes and then half their traffic will be gone for ever, turned into road transport. And what do your clever railwaymen do then? [Pauses. MADGE is listening, of course, but not quite acknowledging that he had any right to join in.] And another thing. The working class is out for itself. Then why shouldn’t the middle class be out for itself?

  MADGE [coldly]: Because the middle class must have already been ‘out for itself’– as you call it –

  ERNEST: Well, what do you call it? Something in Latin?

  MADGE [with chill impatience]: I say, the middle class must have already been successfully out for itself or it wouldn’t be a comfortable middle class. Then why turn against the working class when at last it tries to look after itself?

  ERNEST [cynically]: That’s easy. There’s only so much to go round, and if you take more, then I get less.

  MADGE [rather sharply]: I’m sorry, but that’s bad economics as well as bad ethics.

  ROBIN [bursting out]: But we’d have Red Revolution – like Russia – if we began to listen to these wild chaps like this J. H. Thomas.

  HAZEL [moving]: Well, I think it’s all silly. Why can’t people agree?

  ERNEST [seeing her going]: Oh! – Miss Conway –

  HAZEL [her very blank sweetness a snub]: Oh – yes – good night. [She goes out.]

  [ERNEST looks after her, a rather miserable figure. Then he looks towards ROBIN just in time to catch a grin on his face before it is almost – but not quite – wiped off.]

  MADGE [to ROBIN]: I came in here for something. What was it?

  [Looks about her and through ERNEST, whom she obviously dislikes.]

  ROBIN [still a grin lurking]: Don’t ask me.

  [MADGE goes, ignoring ERNEST, though rather absently than pointedly. ROBIN, still looking vaguely mocking, lights a cigarette.]

  ROBIN [casually]: Were you in the army?

  ERNEST: Yes. Two years.

  ROBIN: What crush?

  ERNEST: Army Pay Corps.

  ROBIN [easily, not too rudely]: That must have been fun for you.

  [ERNEST looks as if he is going to make an angry retort when CAROL hurries in.]

  CAROL: Mr Beevers – [As he turns, looking rather sullen, ROBIN wanders out.] Oh! – you look Put Out.

  ERNEST [grimly]: That’s about it. Put out!

  CAROL [looking hard at him]: I believe you’re all hot and angry inside, aren’t you?

  ERNEST [taking it as lightly as he can]: Or disappointed. Which is it?

  CAROL: A mixture, I expect. Well, Mr Beevers, you mustn’t. You were very nice about the charade – and very good in it too – and I don’t suppose you’ve ever played before, have you?

  ERNEST: No. [Grimly] They didn’t go in for those sort of things in my family.

  CAROL [looking at him critically]: No, I don’t think you’ve had enough Fun. That’s your trouble, Mr Beevers. You must come and play charades again.

  ERNEST [as if setting her apart from the others]: You’re all right, y’know.

  [MRS C’s voice, very clear, is heard off saying, ‘But surely he’s gone, hasn’t he?’]

  CAROL: We’re all all right, you know. And don’t forget that, Mr Beevers.

  ERNEST [liking her]: You’re a funny kid.

  CAROL [severely]: I’m not very funny and I’m certainly not a kid –

  ERNEST: Oh – sorry!

  CAROL [serenely]: I’ll forgive you this time.

  [MRS C enters with GERALD. She looks rather surprised to see ERNEST still there. He notices this.]

  ERNEST [awkwardly]: I’m just going, Mrs Conway. [To GERALD] You coming along?

  MRS C [smoothly, but quickly in]: No, Mr Thornton and I want to talk business for a few minutes.

  ERNEST: I see. Well, good night, Mrs Conway. And I’m very pleased to have met you.

  MRS C [condescendingly gracious]: Good night, Mr Beevers. Carol, will you –

  CAROL [cheerfully]: Yes. [To ERNEST, who looks bewildered by it, in imitation Western American accent] I’ll set you and your hoss on the big trail, pardner.

  [She and ERNEST go out. MRS C and GERALD watch them go. Then GERALD turns and raises his eyebrows at her. MRS C shakes her head. We hear a door slammed to.]

  MRS C [briskly]: I’m sorry if your little friend thought he was being pushed out, but really, Gerald, the children would never have forgiven me if I’d encouraged him to stay any longer.

  GERALD: I’m afraid Beevers hasn’t been a success.

  MRS C: Well, after all, he is – rather – isn’t he?

  GERALD: I did warn you, y’know. And really he was so desperately keen to meet the famous Conways.

  MRS C: Hazel, you mean.

  GERALD: Hazel, especially, but he was determined to know the whole family.

  MRS C: Well, I do think they’re an attractive lot of children.

  GERALD: Only outshone by their attractive mother.

  MRS C [delighted]: Gerald! I believe you’re going to flirt with me.

  GERALD [who isn’t]: Of course I am. By the way, there wasn’t any business you wanted to discuss, was there?

  MRS C: No, not really. But I think you ought to know I’ve had another enormous offer for this house. Of course I wouldn’t dream of selling it, but it’s nice to know it’s worth so much. Oh! – and young George Farrow would like me to sell him my share in the firm, and says he’s ready to make an offer that would surprise me.

  GERALD: I believe it would be pretty handsome too. But, of course, there’s no point in selling out when they’re paying fifteen per cent. And once we’re really out of this war-time atmosphere and the government restrictions are off, there’s going to be a tremendous boom.

  MRS C: Isn’t that lovely? All the children back home, and plenty of money to help them to settle down. And, mind you, Gerald, I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if Robin doesn’t do awfully well in some business quite soon. Selling things, probably – people find him so attractive. Dear Robin! [Pauses. Then change of tone, more depth and feeling] Gerald, it isn’t so very long ago that I thought myself the unluckiest woman in the world. If it hadn’t been for the children, I wouldn’t have wanted to go on living. Sometimes – without him – I didn’t want to go on living. And now – though, of course, it’ll never be the same without him – I suddenly feel I’m one of the luckiest women in the world. All my children round me, quite safe at last, very happy. [ROBIN’s voice, shouting, off, ‘It’s hide and seek all over the house.’] Did he say ‘all over the house’?

  GERALD: Yes.

  MRS C [calling]: Not in my room, Robin, please.

  ROBIN’S VOICE [off, shouting]: Mother’s room’s barred.

  JOAN’S VOICE [farther off, shouting]: Who’s going to be It?

  ROBIN’S VOICE [off]: I am. Mother, come on. Where’s Gerald?

  MRS C [as she prepares to move]: Just to hear him shouting about the house again – you don’t know what it means to me, Gerald. And you never will know.

  [They go out. As MRS C passes switch, she can switch off half the lights in the room, perhaps leaving right half unilluminated and perhaps standard lamp on left half.]

  ROBIN’S VOICE [loud, off]: I’ll go into the coat cupboard and count fifty. Now then – scatter.

  [After a moment JOAN enters, happy and breathless, and after looking about chooses a hiding-place to the right – behind a chair, end of bookcase or sofa, or curtain. No sooner has she installed herself than ALAN enters and moves across to that end. She peeps out and sees him.]

  JOAN [imploring whisper]: Oh – Alan – don’t hide in here.

  ALAN [humbly]: I came specially. I saw you come in.

  JOAN: No, please. Go somewhere else.

  ALAN [wistfully]: You look so pretty, Joan.

  JOAN: Do I? That’s sweet of you, Alan.

  ALAN: Can I stay, the
n?

  JOAN: No, please. It’s so much more fun if you go somewhere else. Alan, don’t spoil it.

  ALAN: Spoil what?

  JOAN [very hurriedly]: The game – of course. Go on, Alan, there’s a pet. Oh – you can’t go out that way now. You’ll have to go out of the window and then round. Go on.

  ALAN: All right. [Climbs out of window, then looks closely at her a moment, then softly] Good-bye, Joan.

  JOAN [whispering, surprised]: Why do you say that?

  ALAN [very sadly]: Because I feel it is good-bye.

  [ROBIN’s voice, humming, is heard off. ALAN goes through the curtains at the window. ROBIN, half humming, half singing, a popular song of the period, enters slowly. He moves to the edge of the lighted half, looking about him, still singing. Finally he turns away and begins to move, when JOAN joins in the song softly from her hiding-place.]

  ROBIN [with satisfaction]: A-ha! [Very quickly he closes the curtains but as he turns his back, JOAN reaches out and turns off the switch of the standard lamp in her corner. The room is now almost in darkness.] All right, Joan Helford. Where are you, Joan Helford, where are you? [She is heard to laugh in the darkness.] You can’t escape, Joan Helford, you can’t escape. No, no. No, no. No escape for little Joan. No escape.

  [They run round the room, then she goes to the window and stands on the seat. He pulls her down, and then, in silhouette against the moonlight we see them embrace and kiss.]

  JOAN [really moved]: Oh – Robin!

  ROBIN [mocking, but nicely]: Oh – Joan!

  JOAN [shyly]: I suppose – you’ve been – doing this – to dozens of girls?

  ROBIN [still light]: Yes, Joan, dozens.

  JOAN [looking up at him]: I thought so.

  ROBIN [a trifle unsteadily]: Like that, Joan. But not – like this – [Now he kisses her with more ardour.]

  JOAN [deeply moved, but still shy]: Robin – you are sweet.

  ROBIN [after pause]: You know, Joan, although it’s not so very long since I saw you last, I couldn’t believe my eyes tonight – you looked so stunning.

  JOAN: It was because I’d just heard that you’d come back, Robin.

  ROBIN [who does]: I don’t believe it.

  JOAN [sincerely]: Yes, it’s true – honestly – I don’t suppose you’ve ever thought about me, have you?