Alan Ayckbourn Plays 1

by Alan Ayckbourn

  Jerome (muttering) At least she doesn’t try and rewrite my music for me.

  Zoë I’m sorry. I thought you might like a suggestion. Obviously you don’t. Fine. (Pause.) Obviously, you think that’s perfect. Fine. You’re the expert.

  Jerome (testily) Right.

  Nan comes from the kitchen to the hall carrying a floor-mop handle without the mop attached. She goes out busily. Zoë stares.

  It’s her day to mop the hall.

  Zoë Oh, good. I’m sure that floor could really do with a good scrape. Is that all you’ve done, then?

  Jerome What?

  Zoë Just that bit? Is that all you’ve written?

  Jerome No.

  Zoë Oh.

  Jerome I started a second sketch.

  Zoë Good. (Pause.) Well, let’s hear it then. I won’t say a word, I won’t say a word, I promise.

  Jerome (reluctantly) It’s not finished.

  He plays her the second sketch. It is, like the first, based on Zoë but is very different in mood – obviously this time based on a recording of Zoë’s love sounds. She listens thunderstruck. It finishes. Jerome switches off the machine again.

  Zoë Is that what I think it is?

  Jerome Yes.

  Zoë You recorded that while we were –?

  Jerome Yes.

  Zoë I don’t believe it. You mean, while we were making love you just calmly leant out of bed and switched on a tape recorder?

  Jerome No –

  Zoë No wonder you didn’t seem to have your mind on the job –

  Jerome Of course I didn’t.

  Zoë Then how else did you –?

  Jerome I didn’t switch it on specially. They’re on all the time.

  Zoë All the time?

  Jerome Yes.

  Zoë What, you mean like now?

  Jerome Yes. All the time.

  Zoë What, everywhere? In the – everywhere?

  Jerome I keep saying. Yes.

  Zoë (aghast) You’re sick. You’re diseased. You’re perverted –

  Jerome That’s the way I work – That’s how I work.

  Zoë Well, I’m sorry, that’s not the way I work. You switch that thing off right now or I’m leaving.

  Jerome I can’t switch it off. Look, it has to be on, don’t you see? What’s recorded here is – is what I use later. Some of it. Not all of it, obviously.

  Zoë Then you can just record parts –

  Jerome How do I know which parts to record? Jesus –

  Zoë Well, I can tell you the parts you’re not going to record. You are not recording me making love, me having a bath or me in the loo – that’s three for a start … My God, did you do this sort of thing to your wife? To your daughter?

  Jerome Yes.

  Zoë Didn’t they mind? Yes, of course they minded, they walked out on you. What about Deborah, what did she have to say?

  Jerome (shouting) For the tenth time, I don’t know any Deborah!

  A loud crash from the hall.

  Zoë Well, somebody evidently does. Why don’t you ask old Mrs Danvers about her?

  She stamps off to the bedroom. Nan comes from the hall almost immediately.

  Nan I know what you’re after, dear, and you’re not going to have him. If you want Jerome, the only way you’re going to get him –

  Jerome Nan, stop!

  Nan Stop, Nan.

  Jerome stares after Zoë. Nan goes out to the kitchen with her mop handle. Jerome slides up a fader on the desk. Zoë’s voice in the bedroom can be heard coming over the speakers.

  Zoë … never known anything so sick in my life … it’s disgusting … I mean, there is such a thing as basic privacy … just to record someone without even … I mean, recording us when we were … If you’re recording this now, Jerome, which I presume you must be – when you play this back I want you to know that you are a sick, twisted voyeur … or whatever the listening equivalent is … an auditeur … a Listening Tom …

  The sounds of her moving out of the bedroom. Jerome hastily fades down the bedroom mike. Zoë is heard approaching. She is finishing fastening the clothes she borrowed.

  I was just saying, you are a Listening Tom.

  Jerome I don’t know why you’re suddenly behaving like this.

  Zoë If you honestly don’t know, then that’s probably the reason you are living on your own, Jerome.

  Jerome What are you talking about?

  Zoë I’m sorry to disappoint you but you’re going to be very hard pressed, even today, to find any woman prepared to have an affair when she runs the risk of having the thing released later in stereo.

  She makes to go.

  Jerome Don’t forget your pass, will you?

  Zoë returns for the card, her anger giving way to genuine hurt. As she does this, Nan comes from the kitchen again and stops in the doorway.

  Zoë God, I’m so upset, you’ve no idea. I really cared, you know. Did you know that? Oh, it was only supposed to be a job but I actually genuinely cared about you and your wife and your daughter and your music … And now, it’s all been betrayed …

  Jerome I don’t see what difference it makes.

  Zoë You can’t see that there are things that people say and do with each other that they don’t want other people to hear? And if they think that other people are going to be listening, then they just don’t say them any more?

  Jerome But as an artist my work entirely depends on the fact that I do repeat those things –

  Zoë Well, then, pardon the language, but bugger your work. There are some things more important.

  Jerome Like what?

  Zoë Like me, for one. I am considerably more important than your bloody music, pardon the language. I’m sorry.

  Jerome Why? What makes you so bloody important?

  Zoë Because I’m a bloody human being, that’s why. And if you can’t see that, I’m sorry for you. I really am. Jerome – I know you don’t like people giving you advice – but if you’re still thinking of writing your piece about love, really, I should forget it.

  Jerome Thank you so much, I’ll bear that in mind.

  Zoë I mean it, Jerome. Love? How could you ever possibly, ever, in a million years, conceivably describe something you can’t even recognize. (indicating the motionless Nan) If you don’t believe me, ask her. Even she knows more about it than you do.

  Zoë stamps out. Jerome stares after her. The video screen springs to life as she goes out the front door. She glares at the camera for a second, pulls a face at it, then slams the front door. The screen blanks.

  Nan (starting to move to the hall) I’m going to clean in here today. Don’t get under my feet.

  A thought occurs to Jerome. He plays with the controls on the console. Sounds of fast replay.

  Zoë’s recorded voice … for one. I am considerably more important than your bloody music, pardon the language …

  Jerome spools slightly forward.

  … but if you’re still thinking of writing your piece about love, really, I should forget it.

  Jerome’s recorded voice Thank you so much, I’ll bear that in mind.

  Zoë’s recorded voice I mean it, Jerome. Love? How could you ever poss–

  Jerome stops the tape and spools slightly back again.

  … it, Jerome. Love? How cou–

  He plays the tape again, then winds it back by hand. Then forwards again, then back several times, playing and replaying the single word at various speeds, back and forth.

  … love … ev–ol … l .. o .. v .. e …

  Jerome has a couple more goes, then gives up.

  Jerome No. Never in a million years. No truth. No sincerity. Nothing.

  The phone rings. The screen lights up with the Department of Social Services logo. Jerome stares at the screen dully.

  Mervyn’s voice Mr Watkins, this is Mervyn Bickerdyke from the Department of Child Wellbeing. Calling yet again regarding a proposed meeting. This can’t go on, Mr Watkins, it really can’t. The time is nine
o-three. Please, please, call me …

  Jerome Mr Bickerdyke, I would call you with pleasure, only what would be the point?

  Mervyn’s voice … my number is, as ever, on screen. Thank you.

  Nan has entered and started to vacuum aimlessly around Jerome’s feet, using just the disconnected telescopic tube to do so.

  Jerome (irritably) Nan, give it a rest, please …

  She stops.

  Nan Think I’ll have a little rest.

  Nan sits down near Jerome. He regards her.

  Jerome What do you know about love then? You pile of old junk?

  Nan is silent.

  (really for want of anything better to do) Nan, copy.

  Nan Copying.

  Jerome Love …

  Nan Love …

  Jerome (more passionately) Love!

  Nan Love!

  Jerome No, love!

  Nan No, love!

  Jerome (giving up) … useless.

  Nan … useless.

  Jerome spools the tape machine idly. He stops and plays it.

  Zoë’s recorded voice … nice name, Jane. Jane Eyre. We did that one. I played the mad Mrs Rochester. Behind the panelling. Not much of a part. I should have played Jane, really. I’d have been really good –

  Jerome stops the tape.

  Nan … nice name, Jane. Jane Eyre. We did that one. I played the mad Mrs Rochester. Behind the panelling. Not much of a part. I should have played Jane, really. I’d have been really good –

  During this, Jerome looks startled for a moment. Then inspiration strikes him.

  Jerome Ah!

  He goes to a cupboard under the panel. As he passes, he removes Nan’s wig, revealing her silver skull beneath.

  Nan (echoing him) Ah!

  He takes from the cupboard a rolled bundle which he undoes and lays out carefully on the worktop. A neat row of electrical screwdrivers and spanners, etc., together with an open tobacco tin. Each gleaming like a surgeon’s implement. He switches off a few general lights so that the illumination is concentrated around the console. He rolls up his sleeves.

  Jerome (softly, to Nan) Well. What the hell. It’s worth a try, that’s what I say.

  He selects a slender screwdriver and stands over her.

  Nan (cheerfully) Well. What the hell. It’s worth a try, that’s what I say.

  Jerome starts to remove a small grub screw from her temple. A sound as he drops the screw into the tin. The shutters clang several times as missiles strike them from outside, giving the impression of thunder. Jerome labours on, impervious, as – curtain.

  Act Two

  In the blackout, the first thing we see is Lupus’s face on the screen. He looks terrible. He appears to be calling from a club, judging from the din in the background. The colour variation in the picture is also quite extreme, veering erratically from one vivid hue to the next.

  Lupus (from the screen) Hallo, Jerry, old mate. Thought I’d roll into view, stick my nose over your horizon there. See how things were. I take it you’re out or – busy – or something. I’m calling from the Blue Cockatoo. Thought I might look up one or two of the old gang, for old time’s sake. Only there doesn’t seem to be anyone here, tonight. A bit of a heavy mob round the bar – I hope this phone’s working OK, I’m not –

  He thumps the unit in front of him, out of our vision. The colour alters abruptly. As he continues, the lights come up on the room. It is a week later and it is much tidier than when we last saw it. A great effort has been made to turn the place into a suitable home for Geain. Most of the equipment – except the main console – has been covered up. The coffee table is partly laid out for an informal tea party. Jerome comes in from the kitchen. He, too, has made a great effort with his appearance.

  That any better? Anyway, I’m down here at the old Cockatoo if you feel like a jar. Since I finally lost Deborah, I’ve been … (yelling to someone out of view) Hey, keep it down, fellows. Please?

  He thumps the unit again. His colour changes once more.

  Since I finally lost Deborah, I’ve been pretty near to – (in response to someone off screen) What? What’s that? And you yours. Yes … (back in the phone) Jesus, who are all these guys? Anyway, as I was saying, since Deborah finally decided to go, I’ve been on the verge of playing the last waltz, I can tell you …

  Jerome, as if by reflex, his mind on other things, fades Lupus down on the console. Lupus’s image continues to chatter silently, changing colour once or twice more. Finally, he bangs the videophone once too often and the thing blanks out.

  Jerome (calling) Darling!

  Zoë’s voice (from the kitchen) Hallo, darling?

  Jerome Darling, what are you doing?

  Zoë’s voice (off) I’m just finishing off in here, darling.

  Jerome Darling, come on in, they’ve arrived.

  Zoë’s voice (off) Right you are, darling. Just a tick.

  A moment later and Zoë comes on. Or rather it is Nan made over into a version of Zoë. She looks a good deal like Zoë but still has Nan’s distinctive walk – and several of Nan’s old mannerisms which emerge from time to time. One improvement Jerome seems to have wrought is that she is carrying a plate of sandwiches the right way up. She, too, is very smartly dressed in the usual long frock and with a great deal of ribbons and bows in her new wig. Jerome has also rather emphasized her figure. She’s a degree more voluptuous than Zoë and more shapely than Nan. She looks rather like a parody of an old-style Southern belle.

  Nan (brightly, as she enters) Hallo! Hallo! Hallo! Welcome! Welcome! Sorry. I completely lost track of the time. Typical.

  She puts the sandwiches down on the coffee table. Jerome watches anxiously.

  Jerome Good. Good girl. That’s it. Darling, will you fetch the tea, or shall I?

  Nan I’ll fetch the tea, darling. Excuse me.

  She goes off. Jerome watches her critically.

  Jerome (muttering) There’s nothing I can do with that leg.

  Nan (from the kitchen) Just coming, everyone.

  A crash from the kitchen.

  (Off) Oh, for goodness’ sake, you extremely stupid old bat. Who put that there, then?

  Jerome Oh, for God’s sake – (calling angrily) Darling!

  Nan (off, sweetly) Yes, darling.

  Jerome Darling, come here, you scrapheap.

  Nan (off) Coming, darling.

  Nan returns, empty-handed. Jerome gets out a small screwdriver from his tool kit.

  Jerome (brusquely) Darling, sit down.

  Nan (sitting) Sitting down, darling.

  Jerome selects a screwdriver and approaches Nan.

  Jerome (muttering) They’re going to be here in a minute, you useless heap. Darling, disengage.

  Nan beeps and sits immobile in the chair as Jerome lies on his back on the floor and disappears under her skirt.

  (slightly muffled, to himself really) Sorry to switch you off but I’m not getting a hundred volts through me again. Yes … I keep adjusting this balance control but – it’s such – fine … tuning … I think it’s this leg of yours … you keep shaking your works about … Darling, engage.

  Nan beeps again.

  Nan Reconnected. Operational seventy-eight point seven four. We are twenty-one point two six per cent unstable and are within three point seven four per cent of permanent shutdown.

  She beeps. Jerome emerges again.

  Jerome Don’t you dare shut down on me. Not now. Darling, walk about.

  Nan Yes, darling.

  She does so.

  Jerome That’s better, that’s better. Precious!

  Nan comes immediately and kisses his cheek. She waltzes away again.

  (an experimental laugh) Ha! Ha!

  Nan responds with one of Zoë’s laughs.

  Good. (calling again) Precious!

  Nan comes and kisses him on the cheek again, then moves away.

  Good! Ha! Ha!

  Nan laughs again. Jerome moves away to one side of her.

  (in
a normal tone) Zoë …

  Nan’s head turns to look at him, as if listening. She is programmed to do this whenever her name is mentioned. Jerome moves to the other side of her.

  (as before) Zoë …

  Nan looks at him again.

  (rather amazed) It works. Darling, it works!

  Nan It works, darling!

  Jerome Nan, still –

  Nan ignores him.

  I mean, darling, still.

  Nan stops still.

  Nan Still, darling.

  Jerome Let me straighten your wig. Here … (studying her) I don’t think I’ve got your mouth right even now.

  He adjusts her appearance, trying to remould her face with his thumbs. The doorbell rings. Jerome jumps. The screen lights up to show Corinna and Mervyn waiting at the front door.

  Here we go, then. Darling, kitchen.

  Nan Yes, darling.

  She starts to go.

  Jerome No, no. Wait (He moves to the console.) Darling, here.

  Nan Coming, darling.

  Jerome (standing her in front of the screen where she can study Corinna and Mervyn) Darling, register.

  Nan Register, darling.

  Jerome Not child. Not child.

  Nan Not child. Registered, Nan.

  Jerome Good. Darling, kitchen.

  Nan Kitchen, darling.

  Jerome Darling, take the plate.

  Nan I’ll take the plate, darling.

  Nan takes up the plate and goes off to the kitchen. Jerome straightens his appearance. The doorbell rings again.

  Corinna’s voice (impatiently, through the speakers) Jerome, come on, open the door. Please.