Just Deserts

by Richard Joyce

  Cockrell: Not at all. Wildmoor has a great dramatic tradition. ‘The Princess and the Pea’, ‘The Wizard of Oz’, ‘Peter Pan’, to name but a few giants of the theatrical repertoire. And don’t forget, you promised me a small part; Hamlet perhaps, or Claudius?

  Willy: Something smaller, Hugh; I thought Osric. A delightful cameo role. Act V only.

  Cockrell: – I’ll have to consult with my agent, but in the interim, okay, I’ll take it.

  COCKRELL exits front L. WILLY reads for a moment and notices

  JONSON and the attractive EISHA Minor at a desk in conversation together.

  Willy: – But, wait, Eisha Minor and Ben Jonson, locked in intimate discourse –

  Eisha: – Well why can’t she wipe the blood off, Mr Jonson?

  Ben: Let’s think about it, Eisha. Who did the murder?

  Eisha: Lord Macbeth, sir.

  Ben: Right, Lord Macbeth, not his wife. Lady Macbeth doesn’t have any blood on her.

  Eisha: It says she does.

  Ben: That’s later, Eisha. In her dreams. It’s a metaphor – Look, I’ll deal with metaphors in class, okay? Best behaviour now. I think I see Mr Wagstaff coming.

  Willy: Eisha has a major crush on Ben. I auditioned the girl unsuccessfully in fact for the Ophelia role, but perhaps there is a shade of Ophelia lurking somewhere there. Feisty enough.

  He exits down R and enters immediately again up R.

  Ben: Mr Wagstaff! And how’s the play coming along?

  Willy: Fine, Ben. Full steam ahead.

  Ben: Yes, Lady Macbeth has taken a back seat to the Prince of Denmark in class this morning. They inform me you’ve put up a revised cast-list, but without Ophelia.

  Willy: Yes, the character slips elusively from my grasp, each time I confront her.

  Ben: I fail to see why. Plenty of Wildmoor dames ready to offer up their honour for a part in ‘Hamlet’. Isn’t that right, Eisha?

  Eisha: Mr Wagstaff, please give me the part.

  Ben: See what I mean? Eisha here won’t let you down.

  Willy: It’s not a lack of candidates, Ben. I’ve still got issues with the role itself.

  Ben: What issues? Ophelia’s a pretty straightforward role. She’s not part of the problem; she’s part of the solution.

  Willy: Which solution?

  Ben: The resolution of the plot. Without Ophelia, you’ve got no Laertes and without Laertes, you’ve got no sword-fight. It’s as simple as that. Eisha, answer me this. Can you do as you’re told by your father?

  Eisha: D’you mean in real life, Mr Jonson?

  Ben: Certainly I mean in real life.

  Eisha: Yes then, I can. He tells me what to do and what not to do just about all the time.

  Ben: Knowing your father, it doesn’t surprise me. There you have it, Mr Wagstaff. All you need to know when casting Ophelia is whether she’ll be credible taking crap from her father.

  Eisha: I do, honestly, all the time.

  Ben: Straight from the horse’s mouth.

  Eisha: Please let me do it, Mr Wagstaff. I won’t let you down. Oh dear, I’ve dropped a book –

  She bends down provocatively to pick it up.

  Mr Jonson, sir; I’m really sorry about the Lady Macbeth test. I’ll do better next time, I promise.

  Exit.

  Ben: A good kid, even if a bit scatty. She’ll be as good as any other kid in the 6th form. That reminds me, a renewed 6th form onslaught this afternoon. Must get ready. May the muse remain with you.

  Exit.

  Willy: Ben makes light of the task, but I can’t afford any mistakes. So, Eisha or Delia? Which? – My friendship to Ben gives me cause to trust his judgement, despite his mother’s reservations. I’ll cast Eisha in the role and think no more about it. Providence often overrides our doubts anyway.

  The CURTAIN falls.

  Scene 4

  The Head’s Study. Night.

  The room is comfortably furnished. The entry is up L, a wide screen or curtain down R. A settee and armchair C, over which are draped a few play costumes. The curtain rises to reveal MAJOR PARKER, alone. SHEILA enters, up L.

  Parker: Well now, Sheila? Did you get anywhere with Wagstaff?

  Sheila: I didn’t. The man’s adamant. As for my son, I fear the two of them are joined at the hip.

  Parker: Bad news and worse. Well then, to borrow Sir John’s words, if they be not for us, then they’re against us. Meanwhile, we’ll have to put up with this mad play and shape it as best we can.

  Sheila: Ray, I think things are working in our favour. By all accounts, three of my senior boarders are at this moment dining with my son. At his house.

  Parker: And how might that help?

  Sheila: Without school permission, Ray. I realize it’s not a major offence, but it could be used to our advantage.

  Parker: I still don’t quite see how, Sheila.

  Sheila: Sir John Kilman’s on his way here this very evening for an informal visit. When my son returns later tonight with the girls, you call him in, challenge him indirectly on his flaunting the rules and overbearing manner. Sir John and I will be hiding behind this curtain, and he may unwittingly let slip the cause of his general discontent.

  Parker: Brilliant, Sheila. He’ll condemn himself out of his own mouth. And we can either bring him into line or send him packing.

  Sheila: My love for my son makes me favour the former course.

  Parker: Be that as it may – however, a note of caution; we must tread carefully. Ben’s a popular teacher. If he’s to be dismissed, we must make it appear for the general good. Perhaps offer him a sabbatical.

  Sheila: I’d be content with that course.

  Parker: One further thing. I think it were better you, his mother, should challenge him on his return, not I. You can question him without the risk of a surly response. Meanwhile, Sir John and I’ll be behind the curtain and hear every word.

  Sheila: An even better plan.

  Parker: Excellent. Come on, let’s get ready. We’ll await Jonson’s return in the inner office.

  Exeunt up L. Lights.

  Scene 5

  The same. Two hours later.

  The curtain rises to reveal Major PARKER, SHEILA and KILMAN awaiting the return of BEN and the students. Noises off. SHEILA goes to the door, up L, while PARKER and KILMAN hide behind the curtain.

  Sheila: Ah, Ben. I was hoping to have a word with you.

  Ben: Can’t it wait, mother? I’ve been labouring all evening in the vineyards of education. I’m tired.

  Sheila: No, I’m afraid not.

  Ben: Right. So, what’s the matter?

  Sheila: You are, son. Your behaviour recently has been most disturbing and can’t be tolerated. Such attitudes spread like wildfire through a school like ours –

  Ben: And heaven knows, there’s chaff a-plenty. (Aside) Do I smell a rat here? – Ah, I see the reception committee awaits me.

  Sheila: No, we are alone. I’d hardly call that a committee.

  Ben: But doesn’t a committee require a quorum? And are we not a quorum of two. Thus, a committee. Did you think I meant something else?

  Parker: (aside) This is just mischievous quibbling, Sheila. To the nitty-gritty.

  Sheila: I don’t know what you meant, Ben. You seem to speak in riddles these days. But tell me, how have you spent this evening?

  Ben: In uninterrupted intercourse.

  Sheila: I trust you’re referring to social intercourse, Ben.

  Ben: Of course. Can there be another type when pupils and staff commune together?

  Sheila: I sincerely hope not. But let me get back to the point; I felt you were out of order the other night, talking with our guest speaker.

  Parker: (aside) That’s better. To the nub.

  Ben: (aside) Ah, that way goes the game – Not at all, mother. I suppose you’re referring to Mr John Kilman. Sir Jack and I shared a frank exchange of views on a whole range of subjects.

  Sheila: I’m glad to hear it. And what did you dis
cuss?

  Ben: Oh, minor matters such as terrorism, racism. Kilman’s a most learnéd and informed knave.

  Sheila: I assume you use the word ‘knave’ lightly, Ben, as a term of endearment.

  Ben: Not at all. Kilman’s as slavish a villain as ever attempted indifferently to walk the paths of righteousness. If he were here in person right now, I’d happily dispatch him back whence he came.

  Kilman: (aside) Would he now?

  Sheila: And where is that?

  Ben: You know, mother; Kosovo or hell, whichever’s nearest.

  Parker: (aside) Pure prevarication. He’s getting the better of her. I’ll have to intervene.

  PARKER manoeuvres himself with much difficulty over to the door and exits.

  Sheila: That’s a step too far, Ben. You cannot know Sir Jack that well.

  Ben: I know him to be a murderous villain. Why, he, you and I were all in Kosovo together. Surely you remember. Before my father died.

  Sheila: Your father’s not dead, Ben.

  Ben: Ah, then I’m really glad to hear it. But do you have two husbands then?

  Sheila: Son, you abuse too much my love for you.

  Ben: Mother, you abuse too much my father’s love for you.

  Sheila: How dare you bandy words with me.

  Ben: It’s for your best instruction, so you go not one step further in your lust, and seek a third husband.

  Parker enters.

  Sheila: Ah, Ray. How timely. Ben was just remarking on his intimate acquaintance with Sir John.

  Parker: I know.

  Ben: How do you know?

  Journalist enters unnoticed and stands watching by the doorway.

  Parker: I know when something’s afoot, Mr Jonson. Call it sixth sense. But tell me, how do you know Sir John Kilman so well.

  Ben: He was a close friend of my mother’s for some years. Until she swopped and married a carbuncle.

  Parker: (aside) Is this madness or the pretence of it? (to Ben) I wonder if you’re aware Sir John’s a good friend of mine.

  Ben: Then I hope you’ll allow me to offer my condolences.

  Parker: (aside) Still sense without substance. Mr Jonson, it’s easy to speak glibly about a man in his absence.

  Ben: You’re right; almost as easy as kill a father and lose a son.

  KILMAN exclaims audibly behind the curtain.

  But wait, I hear a rat. I smell a rat.

  JONSON grabs PARKER’S walking-stick and goes quickly towards the curtain.

  What? Uninvited guests. How now. Dead for a ducat. Dead!

  He thrusts the stick with some force into the folds of the curtain. KILMAN staggers out.

  Kilman: – That son of a bitch. Get the paramedics. I’m hurt –

  Parker: Mr Jonson, you’ve gone too far this time –

  Ben: (aside) It’s him. There can be no doubt. What more proof do I need?

  He exits, followed by Journalist.

  Parker: Sir John, I really am most sorry. Disciplinary action will be taken, I can assure you.

  Kilman: Will somebody get me a taxi? Is there an A & E on this confounded moor? – Jonson, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.

  Parker: Sheila, this mad son of yours must be watched.

  Kilman: – Watched? The man’s a maniac; he must be eliminated.

  Parker and Sheila exit up L.

  The CURTAIN falls.

  JOURNALIST appears on apron, clapping.

  Journalist: What a scene. What wonderful action. Feisty, confrontational. Kilman, eaten up with venom and hatred. Almost as real as real life itself. I just stopped by the Head’s study to see Sheila about my security pass, and stumbled on a rehearsal in full flow. And on location too. You know, those academics, they really are something: juggle reality and make-believe like it’s all part of the same game. Anyway, gotta get off; might even get a feature out of Ben. ‘Fiction and Reality’ that’s what I’ll call it.

  Scene 6

  The school hall.

  DELIA sits alone, down front.

  Mr Jonson had his way with his new-found protégé;

  Eisha enlisted in the cast, none knowing whether it would last;

  While I remained as second-string, a sad, forgotten underling.

  Until alas things fell apart.

  I could have told them from the start.

  Student players come on for a rehearsal, milling around and chatting. All cast, if not acting, watch the rehearsal from the back. EISHA sits talking earnestly to JONSON. At one point, JONSON puts his arm protectively around her shoulder; she is clearly nervous. Occasional flashes as JOURNALIST takes photos.

  Willy: Okay, major rehearsal. Eisha, let’s take it from just before the start of the ’To be or not to be’ speech. Polonius, that’s you Fred, and Claudius, Dennis, on stage, with Ophelia, that’s you Eisha. We’ll go from Act III, Scene 1, Line 44. Okay, Fred, action!

  FRED remains seated at the back.

  Fred, you’re on!

  Delia: (aside) That’s my father; I hope he’s up to this.

  Fred: Oh, I’m on. ‘On strike’ I should be, rather than ‘on stage’, given the status they’ve allotted to my talented daughter.

  He looks at DELIA and glares at EISHA as he walks on stage.

  Willy: Sorry, Fred? Did I miss something?

  Fred: No, nothing at all. Nothing this unfair world will miss either.

  Eisha: Which page is it, Mr Wagstaff?

  Willy: I’ve just told you, Act 3 Sc 1. Right, Fred, your line.

  Fred: (aside) Would this wedding aisle were my daughter’s.

  Willy: Your line, please, Fred!

  Fred: Ah. ‘Ophelia, walk you here – so please you. We will bestow ourselves.’ This vixen here were better placed to play Goneril than the fair Ophelia, ’but dog will have his day’.

  Cockrell: For god’s sake, Fred, must there be commentary on every word you speak?

  Willy: Thanks, Mr Cockrell. Continue, Fred.

  Fred: ’ – Bestow ourselves. Read on this book.’

  Willy: Hand her the book, Fred.

  Fred: I don’t have a book.

  Willy: Delia, a book for your father?

  Fred: Thanks, light of my life.

  Willy: Your line again, Fred.

  Fred: ‘That show of such exercise may –’

  Willy: No, that’s cut, Fred. And Claudius’s speech also cut, so it’s you, Polonius, Line 55.

  Fred: Ah. 55, 55 … I’ll put a girdle round the earth, 55 – Ah, I have it –

  Cockrell: (aside) None too soon, good friend, or I would have had you.

  Fred: ‘I hear him coming. Let’s withdraw, my lord’ –

  Cockrell: Can we get another Polonius, Mr Wagstaff, or the entire play will consist of one page.

  Willy: Long-windedness is hardly out of character for Polonius, Hugh. Right, everybody, jump the ’to be’ speech. So, Eisha, it’s your line, line 90.

  Eisha: ’Good my lord, How does your honour for this many a day?’

  Al: ’I humbly thank you; well, well, well.’

  Eisha: ‘My Lord, I have remembrances of yours, that I have longéd long to redeliver.’

  Willy: That’s longéd, Eisha. With the accent.

  Eisha: Long-éd. Can’t see the difference. ’I pray you now receive them.’

  Al: ‘No, not I, I never gave you aught.’

  Eisha: ‘My honoured Lord, you know right well you did –’

  Willy: Eisha, more humble. He outranks you in the court, don’t forget that. And he’s heir to the throne. Anyway, Ophelia’s not that kind of girl.

  Eisha: What kind of a girl is she then?

  Willy: Demure, Eisha.

  Eisha: I don’t know what that means. Can’t you speak normal English, Mr Wagstaff?

  Ben: Well brought up. Are you well brought up, Eisha?

  Eisha: I certainly am, Mr Jonson! Mr Jonson speaks language I can actually understand, Mr Wagstaff.

  Sam: Come on, Eisha, stop arguing the toss, and just do it li
ke he wants you to.

  Eisha: Girls nowadays don’t behave like that when treated like that.

  Sam: This isn’t nowadays. It’s medieval Denmark.

  Eisha: Then why are we in modern dress?

  Laura: For heaven’s sake, Eisha, if you can’t even listen to the director’s advice without pulling a mood, this play’s going nowhere fast!

  Cockrell: It’s going nowhere fast anyway.

  Eisha bursts into tears.

  Eisha: You’d better find someone else to play the stupid part then!

  Exit.

  Cockrell: Who does she think she is? Greta Garbo?

  Fred: The Witch of the West, more like. ‘We’re off to see the Wizard…’

  Willy: Thanks, Fred. Well let’s call it a day. It’s late anyway. Thanks everyone.

  Cockrell: (aside) Thanks for nothing.

  Cast starts to leave.

  Willy: Al, we’ll play that vital scene again when Eisha’s less volatile.

  Journalist: Such precise language. ‘Volatile’. I’ll note that. ‘Volatile’ – get it into my report.

  Willy: I hope you’re not filing a report on that performance, Mike.

  Journalist: Just keeping abreast. Oh, and by the way, have you got a bit part for me perhaps?

  Cockrell: You could take my part, Mike. When I resign. Or, Fred’s part. if I despatch him.

  Fred: Despatch him to the Underworld. Like Orpheus.

  COCKRELL, FRED, JOURNALIST exit, FRED humming the ‘Can Can’.

  Ben and Willy remain on stage.

  Ben: Having a spot of bother with Greta Garbo?

  Willy: I don’t quite know how to handle her, Ben. But you obviously do.

  Ben: Humour her. Let her seduce Hamlet once in a while. Lend a whole new dimension to the ‘Danish’ play.

  Willy: Sure it’s not you she’s trying to seduce, Ben?

  Ben: Can’t say I’ve noticed myself falling under her spell.

  Willy: You don’t need to these days. Just be seen to be falling under a spell.

  Ben: Don’t worry, I’ll confine my dealings with Eisha to the textual nuances of ’Macbeth’.

  They exit together.

  Journalist: Ladies and Gentlemen, I’ve been thinking. Can a man really live two lives without going a little mad? I confess I’m bowled off my feet by this magical Shakespeare world, this fiction paradise. And to think, one can earn ones living at it. So I’ve quit the newspaper. Yes, resigned. I want to be in the action, not reporting it, dream dreams, like Willy. I’m going to take acting lessons, become an actor. Expect shortly to see me on the stage. Exit. The CURTAIN falls.