CLAIRE. With all due respect, Miss Grimble, that could implicate all the girls in the school.
BEA. I hardly think so.
LINDA. It might be just the one girl. We don’t actually know that there’s more.
BEA. We cannot afford to take that chance my dear. There is definitely more than one style of writing and too many leaks can sink the ship.
MARION. We don’t know who’ll get hold of this. (Brandishing the magazine.) Anyone could read it.
BEA. Precisely. That’s why those responsible must somehow be rounded up and be seen to be punished.
MARION. I suppose if they mean what they say they’ll become visible to us. I mean hold a meeting. Shouldn’t be hard to find them.
BEA. Good. Good. Thank you, Miss Landsdowne. With a bit of luck we’ll be shot of this matter before the end of term. From now until then I’d be very grateful if we could have all hands on deck. Anything suspicious, send them to me. (She gets up.) Is that clear?
Various responses of ‘Yes’ with varying degrees of enthusiasm. BEA GRIMBLE crosses to the door and opens it.
ROGER (mutters). What a gay day.
BEA (turns). Mr Cunningham, you are provoking me beyond the pale. (Parting shot.) Humm, poxy? Old-fashioned words for me are just as sufficient. Nincompoop seems to fit the bill adequately in your case.
She exits.
CYRIL (gets up and stumbles after BEA, mumbling). Miss Grimble, if I could have a word with you about the blocked Bunsens.
CLAIRE (more to herself than anyone in particular). I just don’t believe this.
MARION. Miss Grimble’s right, though, this matter’s got out of hand.
ROGER. Or in hand, depending on how you see it.
MARION. It’s a good job Annette isn’t here, as she’d be sorry to have to say how you make her feel.
ROGER. Huh, well, what a good thing we haven’t got an Easter pantomime. The poor creature playing Mary Magdalene would well and truly be in the spotlight.
MARION. Don’t be stupid. Anyway she was always washing our Lord’s feet.
ROGER (mimicking BEA GRIMBLE). Oh, Miss Landsdowne, don’t tell me foot fetishes are rife as well? I’m so pleased to see you’re not taking this lying down. Come along now, ladies, time to get your fingers out. (He laughs and exits.)
MARION. Shame he couldn’t marry Miss Evans and catch whatever it is she’s got.
LINDA. The shame of it is that it couldn’t be terminal.
MARION. Really now, Linda, that’s nasty. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. (She looks at her watch.) I could put the couple of minutes before the bell to worse use than a quick cruise round the sixth hangouts. (She exits.)
CLAIRE (still holding the magazine). What am I going to do?
LINDA. Don’t look at me.
CLAIRE. Not unless there was a hundred per cent rebellion and every girl in the school said she was gay.
LINDA. Could you have agreed to that when you were their age?
CLAIRE. No. The only common denominator is silence.
LINDA. I don’t know how you can say that with this screaming up at you. (She takes the magazine from CLAIRE and drops it on the table.)
(Interval.)
Scene Ten
Hospital day room. VAL sits in a chair doing the crossword. Enter CLAIRE.
CLAIRE. Hi.
VAL. Not particularly.
CLAIRE. Sorry.
VAL. Take no notice. If madder only had one ‘d’ it would be an anagram of dream.
CLAIRE. Armed with unfulfilled ones.
VAL. Something like that. (She puts the paper down.) What about you?
CLAIRE. Oh, all right. (Pause.) Well, I might have been if one of the girls hadn’t come out at school; that could have been copeable-with only, to that headcase of a man I had the misjudgement to marry, getting married means that nothing stands in his way of getting Poppy, even though he never bothered to see her for three years, even though he’s unreliable about access now, that matters nothing except of course that I will be forced through a farce which masquerades as justice. It wouldn’t be so bad if an article hadn’t appeared in the school magazine, which apart from repercussions to my job (She stops herself.) Sorry, Gawd, listen to me. Maybe you and I should swop places.
VAL. Maybe we’re in the same boat.
CLAIRE. Here I am trying to prove what a normal mother I am.
VAL (raising her voice). Where are the ‘normals’?
CLAIRE. Shush, keep your voice down.
VAL. Where are they, this invisible minority who can put their hands together and thank God every morning that they were born one of the great, white, washed normals?
CLAIRE. They sit in judgement, perched on benches, tightly permed, decaying wigs balanced on their heads. Looking like ten-stone owls.
VAL. If it wasn’t so serious it would be ludicrous.
CLAIRE. We seem to be caught in a horrendous fairy-tale.
VAL. Huh, that’s true, the doctors in here are clones of the Brothers Grimm. Mum tells me you and her had words.
CLAIRE. Words, huh. Screams more like. We had a furious row. What did she go and bother you with that for?
VAL. Because she’s afraid for you.
CLAIRE. Well, she should try and do something about it instead of finding fault all the time.
VAL. You know, you were always her favourite.
CLAIRE. Rubbish. I’m the scapegoat. She just launched into why didn’t I stay with Lawrence and God knows what.
VAL. Well, I’ve asked her to bring some make-up in for me.
CLAIRE. Oh?
VAL (with irony). Seems that you get on better in here if you spend an hour in front of the mirror each morning. And Mum was over the moon about me starting to take an interest in myself again.
Scene Eleven
School corridor. Lunchtime. CLAIRE approaches a classroom door which has a notice saying ‘Meeting – girls only’ on it. A lot of voices can be heard above the noise of a record which is playing in the background. The impression should be of about twelve girls in the room.
CLAIRE (opens the door). Shut that thing off. (The record player is turned off.) What is the meaning of this? Now, get out of here and play tennis or something. Go on, file out of the other door quietly. Now. Not you, Diane, would you please come here?
Pause. DIANE comes out of the room. CLAIRE shuts the door behind her, takes the notice off the door, folds it and hands it to DIANE.
DIANE. Miss?
CLAIRE. Have you gone stark staring crackers?
DIANE. No.
CLAIRE (now calm). Let’s talk sensibly about this.
DIANE. All right, you first.
CLAIRE (firmly). What is all this about?
DIANE. Haven’t you read the school magazine?
MARION, a pile of exercise books under her arm, crosses from left to right and comes within earshot of DIANE’s next speech.
CLAIRE (noticing MARION and talking more softly). Try to be …
DIANE (angry). No. I’m not going to try to be anything, least of all forcing myself to act normal. I hate the word, normal is a lie. You’re always on about change, well I don’t know about you, but I intend to change things.
Exit MARION.
CLAIRE. Standing in the dole queue won’t change much. The only way to change the system is from within.
DIANE (flatly). Cop out.
CLAIRE. You think so?
DIANE. Every day making another compromise until you become so demoralised you hate yourself. (Long pause.) What about all those thousands of women who were burnt as witches? It was you who told us that it was because they were independent and men were frightened of them. (Silence. CLAIRE still doesn’t respond). What are you thinking?
CLAIRE. Something stupid, like how nice to be seventeen when the only dirty word is ‘compromise’.
DIANE. You’re only a generation away.
CLAIRE. A generation? Bloody cheek.
DIANE. You going to grass on us all then?
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br /> CLAIRE. I’m going to have to think about it.
DIANE. Thank you. (Exit.)
Enter MARION. She crosses to CLAIRE.
MARION (conspiratorially). I’ve notified Miss Grimble, she wants to see you in her office after school.
CLAIRE (extremely angry, coldly). Thank you, Marion. Do you not think I am capable of my own dirty work?
Scene Twelve
BEA’s office. Enter CLAIRE.
BEA. Good work. I hear you caught the lot of them at lunchtime, in the act, I mean red-handed. I mean, you know, at this meeting, whatever. (Pause. She starts again.) Have you made a list of names?
CLAIRE. No.
BEA. Right, let’s do that now. (She pulls up a chair by the corner of the desk so they are sitting almost next to each other. She indicates CLAIRE to sit, which she does. Silence.)
CLAIRE (slowly). Miss Grimble.
BEA. Beatrice, my dear, in the confines of this room.
CLAIRE. Miss. Beatrice, Beatrice.
BEA. Yes?
CLAIRE. Do you think this is all really necessary?
BEA. Oh? Don’t tell me all this will disappear by itself. That the Easter vac and a gorged dose of chocolate egg will put the equilibrium back in their defective hormones.
CLAIRE. It’s just that we are committed to an anti-sexist policy in this school and …
BEA. We are, we are and I am the living proof of that, am I not? They wanted a man for this job. Oh yes, they did, you know. Ludicrous, isn’t it? However, that is an aside and nothing whatsoever to do with these rampant flauntings.
CLAIRE. But Miss Grim … Beatrice.
BEA. Call me Bea … all my friends do.
CLAIRE. I don’t … it’s a question … I feel we … that I, that is …
BEA (kindly but with laboured patience). Claire, it’s Friday evening and I’m sure we both have better things to do. Now let’s make a list of the names and get it over with. (She picks up a pen.) First off, Diane Collier, we all know that.
CLAIRE (snaps). No.
BEA. Come on now, she told me herself.
Long pause.
CLAIRE. You’re going to have to put my name at the top of that.
Silence.
BEA (stunned). You mean? I hope you don’t mean what I think you mean. Do you? I mean, what do you mean?
CLAIRE. Just that.
BEA (shakes her head). No.
CLAIRE (nods her head). Yes.
BEA. Hell fire, it’s an endemic. (Then.) No, no, you can’t be, you’re married and …
CLAIRE. Divorced. Don’t you mean epidemic?
BEA. And you’ve got a little girl. What nonsense. I know what I mean, it’s your vocabulary that’s flagging.
CLAIRE. I left my husband to live with a woman. Anyway, it’s not a disease of any description.
BEA. Yes, yes, plenty of women do that, doesn’t mean a thing. Cheaper way to live. I’m all for frugal living.
CLAIRE. Because I wanted a relationship as well as …
BEA. Claire, let’s just pretend you didn’t say that.
CLAIRE. I don’t feel any of us should have to pretend anything.
BEA (sharply). Are you still living with her?
CLAIRE. No, she …
BEA. And do you have a …
CLAIRE. No.
BEA (relieved). Well, then you’re in the clear.
CLAIRE. Just because I don’t have a lover doesn’t mean I’m not a lesbian.
BEA (quickly). Still in my book you don’t qualify to go on this piece of paper.
CLAIRE (quietly). Can’t you see that I have to.
BEA. ‘A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.’ Hardly seems the logical or appropriate cliché for your argument. Claire, I won’t let you throw your career away like this.
Long pause.
CLAIRE (tentatively). You don’t have to.
BEA. What option have you left me?
Pause.
CLAIRE. The same one I had.
BEA. I don’t understand.
CLAIRE (deep breath). Forgive me. I think you do.
BEA. I’m all ears.
CLAIRE (bravely). Come on. Everyone knows you live with Miss Hemingford.
BEA. Really!! For your information Florrie’s fiancé was killed in the war.
CLAIRE. That was forty-five years ago.
BEA. She was devoted to him. Absolutely devoted to him.
CLAIRE. I’m sorry but …
BEA. As well you might be. Marching in here suggesting that I am the Queen Bea of this business. I suppose according to you, we should get the authorities to rename this school ‘Radclyffe Hall’. Have you any idea of what you’re saying?
CLAIRE. I think so.
BEA. Do you really expect me to take this on board?
CLAIRE (clearly). Yes. (Slight pause.) Yes, I do.
Long, long pause.
BEA (quietly). Florrie and I do live together but not for as long as you would think. Before that, I had a very long-standing friend (She corrects herself.) relationship, but she died in a car crash in 1956.
CLAIRE. There really is no need.
BEA. Apparently there is. (She shrugs.) Long time ago now, probably the year you were born. I threw myself into my work and I am aware that I sail round the place with an air of bright bluffingly calm, occasionally desperate authority, but it is an act I can hide in and indeed at that time I relied on it for the sake of my sanity. I cannot afford to let myself get caught in the undertow. Do you understand?
CLAIRE. That. Yes. But, Bea …
BEA. After the accident she was in hospital for three weeks before she died. During that time my presence went unacknowledged. I wasn’t allowed to see her. (With irony.) – only close family. And I was left with a sense of grief that couldn’t be shared and an overwhelming feeling of utter – (But she stops herself and then, firmly.) And today, twenty-seven years later I am certainly not about to jeopardise my pension.
CLAIRE. But, I don’t see …
BEA (coldly). So if you persist in this course of action you leave me very little alternative other than to ask for your resignation.
CLAIRE. You could sack me.
BEA. No, Claire, don’t ask me to do that. Please think about it over the weekend.
CLAIRE. Will you?
Exit CLAIRE.
Immediate blackout.
PART TWO
Scene One
CLAIRE has collected POPPY from school. On their way home they have stopped to feed the ducks in the park.
CLAIRE. Poppy, you’re very quiet. Has something happened? (Pause.) Did you get told off today? (POPPY shakes her head.) Well, that’s good. It wasn’t swimming today, was it? We didn’t forget your swimming things? (POPPY shakes her head.) You’ve not said much about the weekend. Tell me a bit more about the fair.
POPPY. It was okay.
CLAIRE. Poppy, what’s the matter?
POPPY. I think I’m depressed.
CLAIRE. Oh dear. Why do …
POPPY (blurts out angrily). Dad said I was going to live at his house forever and that you were a filthy pike.
CLAIRE (gently). What did you say?
POPPY. I said, ‘She hates fish and you can go stuff yourself.’
CLAIRE. Poppy!
POPPY. Well, you aren’t dirty, I didn’t tell him about you leaving your knickers in the sink.
CLAIRE. Did he say anything else?
POPPY. Yes, lots, I nearly forgot that I loved him.
CLAIRE. I know we’ve talked about this a lot before, and you know I don’t like your father much.
POPPY. He can’t stand you either.
CLAIRE. That’s sort of fair, isn’t it?
POPPY (agreeing). S’pose so.
CLAIRE. And I left him when you were young and nobody ever asked you what you wanted.
POPPY. Huh, I was only a baby.
CLAIRE. Do you understand why all this happened?
POPPY (flatly). No, I don’t.
CLAIRE (smiles)
. I mean what’s happening?
POPPY. Dad is going to court because he wants me to live with him.
CLAIRE. Yes …
POPPY. But I’ve told everyone that I want to stay with you.
CLAIRE. And that’s what I want – more than anything – but other people are going to decide for us.
POPPY. Why? It’s none of their blimming business.
CLAIRE. Because your Dad won’t give in and neither will I.
POPPY. I don’t know why they’re bothering because I’m staying put. Nobody can make me go.
CLAIRE. What I’m trying to say is that we don’t have the power to decide.
POPPY. It’s all such a mess.
CLAIRE. Yes. (Smiles.) You know, sometimes you sound just like your Nan.
POPPY. Why don’t you and Nan have a fight with Dad? Nan would win ’cos she told me she keeps a Jif lemon in her handbag for muggers.
CLAIRE. Sometimes I don’t know whose side she’s on.
POPPY. Mine. I’d run away, you know. (Emptying the last few crumbs from the bread bag. Then to the ducks:) Okay, swim off. It’s all gone.
CLAIRE. Perhaps we’ll have a longer chat after supper. Do you want to go home?
POPPY. Yeah, the ducks are bored of us now.
Exit CLAIRE and POPPY, hand in hand.
Scene Two
Staff room. Lunchtime. MARION and ANNETTE are seated, packed lunches in Tupperware containers on their laps. CYRIL stares into space, a CND pamphlet in his hand. ROGER eats a banana. LINDA is mechanically bouncing a tennis ball against the wall.
ANNETTE. Frankly, I’m surprised she bothered to turn up at all.
MARION. The nerve. It was an oversight on Miss Grimble’s part not to have suspended her in the first place.
ANNETTE. Linda, could you stop that please, the continuous thud, thud, thud is giving me a head.
LINDA stops.
MARION. She was obviously behind them.
LINDA throws the ball once again against the wall.
ROGER (with a mouthful of banana). Surely that only applies to queer males.
ANNETTE. I’m sorry to have to say this, Roger, but your mouth should carry a government health warning.
Enter CLAIRE. Silence.
CYRIL. I must congratulate you on your new life, I never realised you had that sort of bent. Mind, it’s very precarious trying to make a living out of the stage.
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