by Ian Shimwell
(A longer piece of mystery music indicates the end of Act One.)
ACT TWO
(We hear TRENCH walking along the streets of Stokeham.)
TRENCH: (Whistling to himself.) A hunting we will go…
(TRENCH suddenly stops walking.)
TRENCH: Excuse me sir, you happen to be blocking my way. If you wouldn’t mind…
THUG: Move.
TRENCH: I was moving until you stopped me.
THUG: Over there.
TRENCH: I love these mono-syllabic types. You want me to move into that dark alleyway? Now, why didn’t you say so?
(TRENCH is ‘escorted’ into the alleyway.)
TRENCH: I think that kind-hearted gentleman wants me to have a chat with you.
SAWN-OFF: You mean, ‘Happy’.
TRENCH: He looks so miserable though.
(HAPPY grunts menacingly.)
TRENCH: No offence
SAWN-OFF: He is happy being miserable. Now, do you know who I am?
TRENCH: Only by reputation. You are a local gangst… I mean ‘business man’ whose trade name is, Sawn-Off.
SAWN-OFF: You have the advantage over me, what is yours?
TRENCH: I do not own a business, Mr Sawn-Off.
SAWN-OFF: (Says threateningly:) Name?
TRENCH: Trench. Pleased to meet you.
SAWN-OFF: Do not act the fool with me Trench, the last person who did laughed himself into an early grave. Do you follow me?
TRENCH: My understanding of your message, Sawn-Off is clear. Crystal.
SAWN-OFF: You were seen with a gentleman, a Marcus Dreadbury. Explain.
TRENCH: Oh relax, I don’t really know this Marcus. I’m just a friend of a friend, that’s all.
SAWN-OFF: Do you know his girlfriend?
TRENCH: Which one? He was going out with - now what was her name? She was an absolute award of a girl - that’s it; her name is Emmy, Emmy Hargreaves. Now, I wonder where she has disappeared to?
(HAPPY smacks his fist into his palm.)
HAPPY: Boss..?
SAWN-OFF: No, not yet. Despite being a fool Trench, you amuse me. In fact I will carry on laughing till you have an unhappy accident.
TRENCH: How do you know I’m going to have an accident?
SAWN-OFF: They can be arranged. And for your sake, I hope you know nothing about dear Emmy.
HAPPY: (Who laughs.) Good one, ‘arranged’. Hah.
SAWN-OFF: Laugh Trench.
TRENCH: Oh hilarious, Sawn-Off. Hah, hah.
(Music moves scene and time on.)
(We hear the car driving through the country lanes.)
TRENCH: I think we must be lost, Sally-Anne. There’s no sign of Dreadbury Manor anywhere. Here, check the map.
(We hear SALLY-ANNE unfold the map.)
SALLY-ANNE: I can’t make head nor tail of this.
TRENCH: Here, try reading it the right way up.
(TRENCH snatches the map, turns it the right way round and hands it back to SALLY-ANNE.)
SALLY-ANNE: I knew that, of course - I was just teasing.
TRENCH: Hah. Well, can you make out where we are?
SALLY-ANNE: Not really, Trench - we could do with one of those ‘You Are Here’ signs.
(TRENCH sighs heavily with evident frustration.)
SALLY-ANNE: We should have found it by now. Even though we’re deep into the countryside, Marcus said it was only half-an-hour’s drive from Stokeham.
TRENCH: And we’ve been driving for nearly an hour. Well, I suppose if we’re going to be lost, it’s best to be lost in beautiful scenery. There’s the Great Southern Lake somewhere nearby and I mean, look at that majestic line of oak trees over there.
SALLY-ANNE: That’s it Trench! Marcus told me there is a mall of oak trees leading to his estate.
TRENCH: (Who takes a deep breath to calm himself.) Yes, yes he did.
TRENCH: Don’t you mean his father’s estate?
SALLY-ANNE: That’s what I meant.
TRENCH: At least we’ve finally found this mystery manor, anyway.
SALLY-ANNE: ‘Mystery’ ah yes. Can you explain to me why you decided to join us on this weekend?
TRENCH: As I’ve already said, I fancied a spot of shooting.
SALLY-ANNE: Rubbish! You’ve always hated blood sports.
TRENCH: All right, alone with a stranger in a sprawling mansion. I was concerned for you Sally-Anne, that’s all.
SALLY-ANNE: Well, I can look after myself.
(We hear the car stop.)
TRENCH: The grand Dreadbury gates. Hadn’t you better pop out dear, and ring the bell or something?
SALLY-ANNE: I think dear Marcus will be more sophisticated than that. Look at that security camera up there. He’s probably recognized us by now.
TRENCH: And if he doesn’t?
SALLY-ANNE: I’d better pop out and ring the bell!
TRENCH: It looks like dear old Marcus has spotted us. The gates are…
SALLY-ANNE: …opening by remote control.
(We hear the gates opening.)
SALLY-ANNE: What are you waiting for Trenchy, drive on!
TRENCH: It is wise to hesitate before entering the lion’s den.
(The car drives through the gates and ominous yet regal music changes the scene.)
SALLY-ANNE: Oh Marcus, this is truly a wondrous home. An oak-paneled library; classical dining hall; imposing portraits adorning the walls and this Drawing Room… exquisite.
MARCUS: I’m glad you like it, my dearest Sally. Would you care to offer an opinion on my humble abode, Trench?
TRENCH: Well, if you think having seventeen rooms in your abode is humble, I’d hate to see you when you’re being arrogant.
SALLY-ANNE: (Who whispers sternly:) I’m warning you, Trench - behave.
TRENCH: Sorry Marcus, no offence intended.
MARCUS: I humbly accept your apology, old boy. And yes, I suppose you would hate to see me when I’m being arrogant.
SALLY-ANNE: I think this weekend will be marvelous, Marcus. We’ll be all alone in this big house.
TRENCH: Wait a minute, why are you looking at me? Oh, don’t worry - you’ll hardly notice I’m here.
(There is a knock on the door and it opens.)
MARCUS: Ah, Gemma, you’ve brought afternoon tea. Splendid.
GEMMA: My lord. Oh, I forgot the milk - I’ll just go back for it.
MARCUS: Err… that’s Gemma, the maid
TRENCH: So that’s why she was wearing that outfit!
SALLY-ANNE: (Who again, sharply whispers to TRENCH.) Very funny, Trench - now stop it.
(A fit of coughing and increasingly loud footsteps are heard upstairs.)
MARCUS: Oh and my father Lord Devesham-Dreadbury is pottering around somewhere too.
SALLY-ANNE: I think we’d have more chance of being alone in Piccadilly Circus!
MARCUS: I assure you my sweet Sally-Anne, we will spend time alone.
TRENCH: Now that’s what worries me.
MARCUS: Speak up Trench, I didn’t quite catch that.
TRENCH: Sorry Marcus, I was just saying that all this lovey-dovey stuff reminds me of my previous girlfriend.
SALLY-ANNE: Oh dear, what are you talking about?
(We hear the door open.)
GEMMA: Panic over, I’ve found the milk.
TRENCH: It was so sad, you see - we were engaged to be married, and then poor Emma simply vanished off the face of the earth.
(There is an almighty crash as the maid, GEMMA drops the milk jug.)
GEMMA: Oh, sorry.
MARCUS: A fascinating story, Trench. I do expect to enjoy our shoot tomorrow…
(Ominous music changes the scene.)
SALLY-ANNE: Such a magnificent roaring fire, Trench. Now that’s what I call a grand fireplace.
TRENCH: I know, it’s almost big enough to walk through - if you happened to be made of asbestos or something.
SALLY-ANNE: Anyway, what was all that nonsense about Emma? I’m pretty sure you’v
e never been out with an Emma before. And you’ve not even been engaged - to anyone.
TRENCH: Well, Sally-Anne, you see…
(We can just hear MARCUS and the maid’s voice coming from a nearby room.)
SALLY-ANNE: Hang on, what’s Marcus doing in the kitchen with the maid?
TRENCH: Why don’t you go and find out?
SALLY-ANNE: I will.
(We hear SALLY-ANNE walk away but can still hear their voices.)
SALLY-ANNE: What’s going on, Marcus?
MARCUS: Oh, I was just explaining to Gemma here my choices for evening dinner. You are in for a treat my dear, Sally-Anne.
SALLY-ANNE: Oh, that’s all right then, Marcus - my Marcus.
GEMMA: Excuse me, my lord.
(The door is closed and TRENCH hears no more.)
TRENCH: I think I’ll pour myself a drink - ah, sherry.
(We hear the clink of the decanter as TRENCH pours himself a sherry. At that moment, another door opens and Lord DEVESHAM -Dreadbury arrives.)
DEVESHAM: I wouldn’t drink, if I was you old boy.
TRENCH: Why ever not? Lord Devesham, I presume. Trench, at your service.
DEVESHAM: Ah, Tiger Trench - you’re next in to bat. Keep a clear head, at least that’s what Winnie always says.
TRENCH: I thought we were going shooting.
DEVESHAM: That’s tomorrow. Today we’re in the Pavilion at Lords and about to thrash the West Indies.
TRENCH: Oh, I see - no I don’t.
DEVESHAM: You’re not even kitted out yet. Have you gone mad?
TRENCH: I think one of us has.
DEVESHAM: Look lively Tiger. Beware of the demon bowler. And as a special surprise, Lady Devesham, that’s err Winnie to you, is providing refreshments for afternoon tea.
TRENCH: Splendid, I’ll… I’ll just go and get kitted out then.
(TRENCH hastily leaves the room, closing the door firmly behind him.)
TRENCH: Oh, Gemma - have you seen Sally-Anne anywhere?
GEMMA: I believe she is out walking with Marcus.
TRENCH: Oh no - I mean I’ll go and quickly catch up with them.
(Faster-paced music changes the scene.)
(We hear TRENCH’s footsteps as he runs across the gravel path/driveway. He then runs through the woods, his panic over SALLY-ANNE’s safety increasing - the music reflects this.)
TRENCH: (Who shouts:) Marcus! (TRENCH breathlessly adds:) What are you doing staring at the swamp?
MARCUS: Staring… thinking… (He snaps out of it.) Swamp? I assume you are referring to the Dreadbury Punchbowl.
TRENCH: Dreadbury Punchbowl? What an odd name for a swamp.
MARCUS: It is thus named because there is a subterranean stream that flows through to the Great Southern Lake, a few miles away - hence the bubbles - here look.
(We can hear the bubbling.)
TRENCH: How err unsettling.
MARCUS: I agree Trench. It always reminds me of someone drowning, struggling to draw their last breath…
TRENCH: Where is Sally-Anne?
MARCUS: Evidently not here.
TRENCH: What have you done with her?
MARCUS: I detect a note of panic in your voice, why?
TRENCH: Just tell me where she is. The maid said you both went out walking.
MARCUS: Oh yes, we did. If you must know, my dear, sweet Sally-Anne has gone to powder her nose. You know how women do that sort of thing.
TRENCH: Is that all?
(TRENCH slowly walks up to MARCUS, evidently relaxing a little.)
TRENCH: I didn’t realize that your mother, Marcus, was still alive.
MARCUS: I’m afraid not, my mother Lady Winnifred died a long time ago.
TRENCH: But…
MARCUS: You must have been chatting with father. Allow me to explain, mother passed away whilst at Lord’s cricket ground watching a Test match against the West Indies. Father has never basically recovered from it. He believes his ‘Winnie’ is still alive and life is one perpetual game of cricket.
TRENCH: I know a few people like that!
MARCUS: However, the worst thing is…
TRENCH: Yes..?
MARCUS: To rub salt into the wounds, those West Indies blighters won the match!
TRENCH: How awful. Oh, on the way here I couldn’t help but notice the stables.
MARCUS: How terribly observant of you.
TRENCH: Thing is, there wasn’t any horses there – not a single one.
MARCUS: There are no gee gees at Dreadbury.
TRENCH: Quite. Well perhaps, Sally-Anne has finished powdering her nose by now.
MARCUS: Perhaps she has. You go to her, Trench. I must go and check that the shotguns are in order for tomorrow’s shooting.
TRENCH: Right, then.
MARCUS: After all, we wouldn’t want any accidents, would we?
(More heavy notes emphasizing the threat and a longer piece of music moves things on to the following day.)
SALLY-ANNE: What a wonderful meal, or should I say banquet, we had last night.
TRENCH: I know Sall’. Duck soup, roast pheasant and I don’t think I could eat another Quale’s egg.
SALLY-ANNE: The meal was that heavy, it kept me up half the night.
TRENCH: Yes, I remember.
SALLY-ANNE: Mmm, what a lovely smell: sausages, bacon, eggs…
TRENCH: Yes, the maid must be cooking a full English breakfast.
SALLY-ANNE: I’ll just go and pour some juice, coming?
TRENCH: Give me a moment, then I’ll join you.
(We hear SALLY-ANNE leave the room.)
TRENCH: What I really could do with now is a chat with Old Tom.
(At that moment, the telephone rings, TRENCH tentatively answers it.)
TRENCH: Hello.
OLD TOM: Good morning, young Trench.
TRENCH: Old Tom! But how could you possibly..?
OLD TOM: It may surprise you to know, I am just about capable of using a telephone directory.
TRENCH: I’ve so much to tell you, Old Tom. Where should I start?
OLD TOM: I’ve always found the beginning a useful place…
TRENCH: No I won’t, I’ll first tell you what happened in the middle of the night.
OLD TOM: Wait a minute, would you pass me my cup of tea? Oh sorry, of course you can’t. I will have to struggle myself.
(We hear OLD TOM struggle to reach his tea.)
OLD TOM: Ah, that’s better. Tear on, Trench.
TRENCH: Well I woke up looking for the bathroom and bumped into Sally-Anne who was doing the same. We tried the nearest door but it was locked. This woke Marcus up and he seemed annoyed. He dismissed the locked room as private and simply not in use. He as good as told Sally-Anne it was none of her business when she suggested taking a ‘peek’.
OLD TOM: There is nothing more mysterious than a locked room in a manor-house…
TRENCH: Could poor Emmy Hargreaves be held prisoner in there? Assuming she is still alive.
OLD TOM: You have something else, in particular, to tell me.
TRENCH: Yes I do, but how did you know? Never mind - as I returned to my bedroom I left the door slightly ajar and could just make out a whispered conversation between Sally-Anne and Marcus.
OLD TOM: And..?
TRENCH: Shockingly, Sally-Anne suggested that she could slip into Marcus’ bedroom. I tell you, I didn’t know what to do.
OLD TOM; But no action was necessary, as master Marcus said - that they should know each other rather more before making that next step, err shall we say.
TRENCH: Now, come on Old Tom - you couldn’t have known that.