Then HUSBAND turns, coffee cup still in hand, goes across to a bow-fronted chest, puts coffee down, and from the top drawer takes out a flat object about 3' x 8" x 4" made of polished hardwood. He carries this to a table, puts it down, undoes a catch and unfolds it to reveal that it is a piano keyboard of the kind on which pianists practise when no piano is available. HUSBAND seats himself before this keyboard and launches into what appears to be a full-scale bravura performance of a romantic sonata: a professional pianist, however, would be puzzled at the exact sequence of notes HUSBAND is hitting; he would think it more an exercise of the fingers than an attempt to interpret any piece of music. Again we notice the precision and strength of the fingers as he works at the silent keyboard.
The sound of the front door opening and shutting in the hall outside. Then come up off HUSBAND’S hands to see the drawing-room door facing him open and admit ROSA.
ROSA is their daughter, a striking-looking girl of about 30, fair, tall, sharp features, an air not at all butch about her but certainly she appears independent, self-contained, hard.
ROSA starts slightly when confronted with the sight of her father ‘playing’, but recovers immediately and, without saying anything, she moves across the room past him towards the kitchen. HUSBAND looks up when ROSA enters, but his expression does not change and his ‘playing’ continues as before.
KITCHEN
WIFE is still sitting as last seen, staring ahead. She turns at ROSA’s entry, slightly surprised.
ROSA
I came as quickly as I could.
ROSA sits down at table with WIFE. During the following conversation it becomes clear that ROSA can give her mother only the outward, formal aspects of sympathy; she can say the right words, make the appropriate gestures, but there is no genuine feeling behind them.
ROSA
How sickening for you, mother. And you say it was while you were at Georgie’s grave, too.
WIFE indicates she wishes to be physically comforted: after a moment’s hesitation ROSA puts her arm round her mother, squeezes. But it is only a gesture at a gesture.
ROSA
Well, it’s over now. Why don’t we have a large drink together?
ROSA gets up; wife relaxes a little, stares down at the table now.
DRAWING ROOM
ROSA crosses to drinks cabinet, takes out decanter of whisky. HUSBAND takes no notice, goes on ‘playing’ as before. ROSA glances at him, almost with contempt, as she passes towards kitchen again.
KITCHEN
WIFE as before as ROSA comes back with decanter, takes glasses from shelf, ice from fridge.
ROSA
You told the police?
WIFE
Yes, I ran to the cemetery-keeper and told him, and he said it has happened before. He phoned the police. They said it happened before, too.
ROSA
The same man?
WIFE
Yes.
ROSA
Then why haven’t they caught him!
WIFE (more upset)
I don’t know. They seemed to treat it all as a joke. The cemetery-keeper could hardly keep a straight face.
ROSA
Didn’t he go and try to find the man?
WIFE
Yes, but by the time he’d reached the other end of the cemetery he’d gone, of course. (pause) I was wearing my gardening gloves, and when he saw those it seemed to set him going twice as hard. “Rubber gloves, John!” he said, and as if. . .
ROSA (firmly, tritely)
Mother, you must try to come to terms with it. I know it’s hard to get it out of your head, but you must realise it’s no good going over it again and again. You’ve got to accept it and become bigger than the experience. Not let it dominate you.
WIFE looks at her daughter: it is clear that this advice is no help at all to her. ROSA sees this too, puts out her hand to touch her mother’s. But WIFE removes her hand, picks up glass to cover up for the rejection, drinks deeply, stares ahead again.
ROSA
It’s the police who ought to do something. And what about the doctor? Have you been to the doctor?
WIFE
No. Yes. Not mine, they sent for a doctor. He gave me those.
WIFE indicates pill container on shelf over sink. ROSA takes them down, looks at them as if professionally, then throws them suddenly and accurately into the sink waste disposer.
ROSA
A placebo! Mother, you should know them all by now!
WIFE is distressed, looks almost longingly towards the waste disposer.
WIFE
They seemed to do me some good. . . .
ROSA looks sceptical, dismissive.
ROSA
Mother: is there anything more you want to tell me?
WIFE is halfway to being cowed: changes direction towards stubbornness, shuts up, closes her mind.
WIFE
No. What do you mean? (pause) No.
ROSA
Well, what’s he doing about it?
Exit ROSA from kitchen towards drawing room.
DRAWING ROOM
HUSBAND still ‘playing’; with even greater concentration, dedication.
ROSA enters; stands in front of her father, having decided to try to transfer guilt for her own failure of sympathy on to him.
ROSA
What are you doing about it?
HUSBAND takes no notice.
ROSA
You fat pig!
ROSA moves closer, forces her attention on him. HUSBAND looks up but continues ‘playing’.
ROSA
Can’t you see she’s very upset? Haven’t you any sympathy for her? (pause) For anyone?
HUSBAND stops ‘playing’ suddenly.
ROSA
At least you could find out what the police are doing!
HUSBAND (quietly, reasonably)
What use would it be if the man were caught? (pause) Does she want him caught?
WIFE has entered from the kitchen.
WIFE (so hysterically it is almost comic)
I want him hanged! Hanged!
HUSBAND stands up awkwardly but very quickly; snaps the release catch on the practice keyboard and goes as if to bang the two halves shut violently; the two women react accordingly; but HUSBAND (his timing is perfect) holds back at the last possible moment so that the women relax momentarily: then he slams it shut with a considerable bang (but which is not as loud as it might have been) finally to startle them. In the same movement he picks up the keyboard, then crosses the room and places it carefully in the same drawer from which he took it. Then he picks up his coffee cup from where he left it, drinks most of the contents at one gulp and then tosses the remainder of the coffee grounds accurately at the roots of some exotic house plants in an imitation log trough. He then looks round to make sure that the two women are expectedly disgusted at this uncivilised act. They are.
HUSBAND (humourlessly)
Go mad for their coffee grounds, they do. (pause) Can’t live without them. (pause) Been having them for years, years, ever since they came to live here at my expense. Reminds them of their natural habitat. All day long there the coffee beans fall off the trees. (pause) Happens all the time in their native equatorial. Cruel not to help them to acclimatize. (pause) Go mad for them they do, mad.
HUSBAND tosses dregs again: hardly any this time: close up on roots of exotic plants: HUSBAND stares at them.
WIFE turns away from him, showing hardly any reaction to what is apparently his normal gross behaviour. She goes across to the calendar and tetchily sets it correctly at 16 again.
ROSA
Something similar happened to a friend of mine. . .
HUSBAND
Similar to what?
ROSA
To what happened to mother this afternoon! She was at an underground station, going up the escalator, and she happened to glance up at a man coming down looking at the advertisements, and he had his. . . .
Sound of the front door bel
l. ROSA glances at her mother, then goes out of drawing room to answer it for her.
Close on HUSBAND.
Close on WIFE.
ROSA and JERRY can be clearly heard talking out in the hall.
ROSA
Jerry!
JERRY
My dear sister Rosa! What’s this about someone flashing it at the mater, then?
ROSA
Oh. So she phoned you too, then?
JERRY
Wasting his time, wasting his time. Must be centuries since she knew what to do with one!
Enter ROSA and JERRY.
JERRY is the couple’s other child. Younger than ROSA, late twenties: tall, lean, sandy hair, sharp-featured. He is not a hippie, though there are certainly hippie elements in his clothes: e.g. a long pendant. Casual expensive suede jacket, jeans, a tee shirt bearing some such statement as Gobi Desert Sailing Club, or How Can I Fail If I’m Sincere? His accent is basically public school, though he can turn on a working-class or hippie variation for effect. On the surface he appears bright, sharp, fashionable: underneath there is little but decadence, as far as that word has any meaning.
JERRY
Well, well. A real gathering of the clans! Not even at Xmas is the whole family met together like this, (pause) Always excepting Georgie, of course.
This last remark is directly addressed to HUSBAND, who stares back at his son with just a hint of anger which he immediately controls; then he goes and sits down in armchair, takes up Evening Standard.
WIFE goes to greet her son, embraces him; although the two of them are poles apart in thinking and appearance, it is clear that WIFE can respond to the outgoingness of JERRY to become closer to him in a way she never could with ROSA. JERRY is over-effusive, even adopts an old-fashioned turn of phrase to communicate with her.
JERRY
Mummy! Poor old you! You must have gone through it!
JERRY shepherds his mother over to the sofa solicitously, and sits down with her. ROSA sits on the opposite side of the room, pretending disinterest: stares at her father, but is listening.
WIFE
The worst part of it was the things he kept saying. . . .
JERRY
What things, mummy? What did he say?
WIFE
Oh, I couldn’t repeat them. They were dreadful, filthy things. Ugh!
She is becoming upset once more.
JERRY
Come on mummy! It’ll do you good to get it off your chest. (pause) What did he say? (pause) I’m over eighteen! As you well know. (pause) How old was this flasher, then?
WIFE
Flasher? (pause) Oh, about your age, I should think. I don’t exactly know. (pause) It wasn’t only the words. He was talking to someone else I couldn’t see. That really frightened me. “Here’s a fair bit of grumble, John,” was the first thing he said, and this John answered in a sort of a mumble, “Grumble and grunt, grumble and grunt.” I don’t know exactly what he meant, but from the tone it was obvious.
JERRY (guessing)
John? What sort of voice? Like his?
WIFE
Now you come to say it, yes, but. . .sort of indistinct though. . .
JERRY
John Thomas! John Thomas!
JERRY roars with laughter; WIFE is puzzled; ROSA is stem, unsmiling; and HUSBAND’S expression does not change.
WIFE
John Thomas?
JERRY
John Thomas! He was throwing his voice to his John Thomas! Using it like a ventriloquist’s dummy!
JERRY laughs even more uproariously. WIFE, to do her justice, does allow her face to break into a shy smile; ROSA does not. On HUSBAND’s face there is a suggestion of a smile.
WIFE
Of course! Perhaps you’re right. . . .
JERRY
But what was the conversation all about?
ROSA gets up angrily: she has not found it at all funny. She is also put out that JERRY has found a way of alleviating WIFE’s distress; accidentally or not.
ROSA
Oh Jerry, for god’s sake stop badgering her!
JERRY
You want to know just as much as I do! Come on, mummy, tell us what he said.
HUSBAND’s eyes narrow as he listens intently.
WIFE
No. . .(pause) I’m feeling a little better now you’re both here.
Telephone rings.
WIFE (cont.)
I must try to forget it, you’re right dear. . . .
This remark addressed to ROSA, who then goes to sit on the other side of WIFE on sofa. JERRY is nearest the telephone, which is on a table next to his end of the sofa.
JERRY
Centre Point Regional Seat of Government? (pause) No. Yes. (pause) It was a joke. (pause) Yes, it is. (pause) Yes. (to his father) It’s for you. They want you to go and give a talk about your life and work.
HUSBAND shakes head firmly, says nothing.
JERRY
He says he’s not at home. (pause) What? (pause) You’re a non-profit-making organisation? Well, that’s probably because of the way you run it.
HUSBAND gets up angrily, goes across and takes the phone brusquely from JERRY.
HUSBAND
Yes. (pause) No!
HUSBAND puts down phone even more brusquely, goes back to chair.
There is an awkward pause.
JERRY
Don’t you want to know about my latest cinematic epic, then?
ROSA
He ceased to be interested in anything we do long ago.
HUSBAND (ambiguously)
No. . .
JERRY
It’s set at a fictitious Agricultural College called Sodd Hall, and the leading character. . . .
WIFE
You can’t be serious!
JERRY
Of course I’m serious! (rummages in fashionable-type bag) Here’s the script. (pause) A line taken at random. A student of animal husbandry speaking: “Girls are all very well, but they’re not like the real thing, are they?”
A single, loud belly-laugh from HUSBAND.
JERRY
That’s my audience! The dirty old men in raincoats. Only now they tend to be wearing crombies or sheepskin duffel coats. Want to know how it goes on, old man, Daddy? (pause) Most of the action takes place in a field, and a nearby copse, but there’s a scene in a barn full of some very sharp agricultural cutlery—for the sados, of course.
HUSBAND sits looking at his son: he is certainly paying attention but from his face it is impossible to know whether he is interested or repelled.
JERRY
You’ve got to cater for the sados these days or you’re nowhere boxofficewise. . . .
ROSA
Scum!
JERRY
Who, me or the sados?
WIFE
Both!
JERRY
If she was in the CP, they’d call her a hardliner or a bootfaced Stalinist. But what do they call you, sister Rosa?
ROSA
A patriot! Patriot! Truest blue!
JERRY
Perhaps you’d like a part in my truest blue movie, then?
ROSA
Ponce!
JERRY
Tart! (pause) Untasted, of course.
HUSBAND gets up, moves out of this fracas towards kitchen.
JERRY
Having a bit of trouble with the title, though, we are, at the moment. Fun on the Farm didn’t seem quite right, and Slaughter at Sodd Hall was not acceptable for London Transport Posters. . . .
ROSA
Sheer filth!
JERRY
Yes, that’s quite good. Sheer Filth. Or perhaps it should alliterate—just call it Filthy Film? Yes. I like that. Filthy Film. Though I should think that some sharp operator has already registered that as a title. Did you know that you can. . .
ROSA
You’re despicable, degenerate!
JERRY
If you go on being nasty to me, sister Ros
a, I’ll tell mummy and daddy what we used to do up in the railway room. . .
ROSA
Ha! They know! (pause) He does, anyway. He used to spy on us.
JERRY
(pause) Of course. Funny. Why didn’t I realise that before?
JERRY gets up: goes towards kitchen.
KITCHEN
HUSBAND is eating fruit, grossly, handsful of cherries at a time, spitting the stones out anywhere. JERRY slightly recoils at the sight on entering.
JERRY
Christ, you’re even fatter! I bet you can number the layers of fat against the great meals you’ve stuffed down you!
HUSBAND says nothing, continues eating.
JERRY
It’s almost as if you’re trying to commit suicide. Or help nature do it for you. “Died of a surfeit of everything,” your obituary will read. Guts!
Still no reaction from HUSBAND.
JERRY
And since we’ve happily met by chance like this, let’s have another little chat about the money Auntie Ann left me. . .
HUSBAND spits out a cherry stone.
HUSBAND
Sue me!
JERRY
I need it at once! I’m setting up this cassette company. . . .
HUSBAND smiles.
JERRY
. . .Once you’ve got set up you can’t fail to make a bomb. All I need is the capital, and if I had the bread Auntie Ann left me then I wouldn’t need to be scratching around down Wardour Street trying to raise a few bob.
HUSBAND
I like the idea of Auntie Ann financing the making of pornographic films!
JERRY
You’ll release the money, then?
HUSBAND
No.
JERRY
Why not? Where is it?
HUSBAND
Sue me.
JERRY
You bastard! What have you done with it?
HUSBAND
Sue me!
HUSBAND takes more cherries, moves off towards drawing room.
JERRY
If that’s the only way, I will do!
DRAWING ROOM
WIFE and ROSA are still sitting on the sofa. Enter HUSBAND. He goes to the calendar on the mantelpiece as before. JERRY follows as far as the kitchen door.
WIFE
. . .in such a state. Can’t remember the journey home at all.
ROSA
Were you driving?
WIFE
No. . . .They brought me home. The police, I think it was. Yes. (pause) But I took the car—the car must still be there at the cemetery!
This thought upsets her out of all proportion to its seriousness.
Well Done God! Page 24