Poppy + George

by Diane Samuels

POPPY. Did you find him?

  GEORGE. Not much left when they did. So then I did know for sure… And I should’ve gone back after that. But I couldn’t… And not just because what was there back home now without him?… But… No going back, see… Not after taking off… Not after pulling it off… Boy, that was something… because I was finding… finding… what I hadn’t realised I was looking for… someone else… someone who stuck with me… And here he was… full of life and raring to go… How could he go missing too?… No way. George Sampson… was here to stay.

  POPPY. And he lets you go places and do what you like, does he?

  GEORGE. Never got such chances before. Only one way to go, see, and that’s forwards.

  POPPY. Look again, Smith said, didn’t he?

  GEORGE. So let’s still go dancing.

  POPPY. How can I?

  GEORGE. Put one step in front of the other.

  POPPY types.

  They say you only know who you’re best suited to when you’ve danced with them.

  POPPY. Is that what they say?

  GEORGE. D’you really want us never to dance together ever again?

  POPPY. I wish I didn’t.

  GEORGE. So you do want to?

  POPPY types.

  Give us a chance.

  POPPY suddenly stops typing.

  POPPY. Well, how about…?

  GEORGE. Go on.

  POPPY goes to some dresses that are hanging.

  POPPY. How about… one of these?

  GEORGE. Whatever you want to wear I’m happy.

  POPPY. For you.

  GEORGE. Are you kidding?

  POPPY. Start again. Properly.

  GEORGE. Can’t we take it from where we are?

  POPPY. Consider it at least?

  GEORGE. That’s just daft, suggesting that.

  POPPY. Oh is it!

  GEORGE. Come on… just ridiculous… you know what I mean…

  POPPY. I’m not sure I want to know any more about what you mean, George.

  POPPY clears up the props, bag and pink-satin robe that TOMMY has left strewn.

  Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get on.

  GEORGE. Yeah, well, I’ve got things to attend to too, you know.

  GEORGE leaves.

  Sound of car engine revving.

  POPPY returns to her typing.

  Behind the curtain, the silhouette of SMITH beavers away.

  Sound of typewriters and sewing machines throbbing with increasing vigour and speed.

  Scene Seven

  Seeds

  The workshop becomes a clear space but for the curtain still hanging towards the back.

  TOMMY, dressed in a suit and coat, appears.

  TOMMY. My lords, ladies, mongrels and elfs, ‘Who’s the bloke in the coat?’ you’re asking. Who indeed?

  Some confused punter who’s wandered through the stage door by mishap? The bailiff after that shady pair keeping low on the fifth row? Gotcha!… Relax, it’s just an old mate of yours who’s had enough of bleating that he’s lost his sheep and is now off to frolic in pastures new. But before I scamper away, I hope you’ll give me the grace to share a few passing thoughts:

  What d’you get if you cross a pig with a zebra?

  Striped sausages.

  What d’you get if you cross a priest with temptation?

  Cardinal sin.

  What d’you get if you cross a soldier with his underwear?

  Yes, you’ve got it. Tommy Johns!

  POPPY appears, dressed in the pink-satin robe, heading towards her room.

  And here’s the lady herself… rather resplendent, I see.

  POPPY. Hope you don’t mind me wearing this about the place. It’s so comfy.

  TOMMY. Honestly, have you asked the Goddess of Love if she minds her fine apparel being given domestic use backstage?

  POPPY. Waste not want not.

  TOMMY. Oh well, even so, you’re pulling her off far better than I ever did. Look at you. How’s a boy to compete.

  POPPY. All set for tomorrow?

  TOMMY. Southampton here I come-diddly-come.

  POPPY. Quite a voyage ahead.

  TOMMY. Likely spend it spewing my guts to the fishes.

  POPPY. What about your sea legs?

  TOMMY. Ran off with that blessed sheep.

  POPPY. Will you tread the boards in New York too?

  TOMMY. Who knows.

  POPPY. How will you make your way?

  TOMMY. With what Smith calls chutzpah, I guess. And how are you getting on, divine mistress?

  POPPY. Up to eighty words per minute with barely any mistakes… Finished my first bit of reporting for the Dreadnought… and they want me to do some more.

  TOMMY. George has been missing you.

  POPPY. What did he say?

  TOMMY. He didn’t have to.

  POPPY. Well…

  TOMMY. He’s been a darn sight glummer about the lack of his good lady than I have about that madame who once passed as my ‘faithful’ wife, damn her to hell, spit on her name, et cetera.

  POPPY. What about your children?

  TOMMY. I’ll send what I can for them.

  POPPY. Won’t you miss them?

  TOMMY. They had trouble recognising me when I came back from the front anyhow. Never settled since. So it goes.

  POPPY. Did George say anything else to you?

  TOMMY. Apart from how he got up to forty-five miles per hour and how to win races, not much. Hey, can’t you just give him another chance? Whatever he’s done, can’t be so bad that a true heart won’t mend it.

  POPPY. Well, you see…

  SMITH appears.

  SMITH. Do I hear the voice of the new Columbus?

  TOMMY. Pilgrim Father, at your service.

  SMITH. You know, I was on my way to the New World when I landed here.

  POPPY. Why stop in this old midden?

  SMITH. For what else? A lady.

  TOMMY. Nothing like love to throw you off-track.

  SMITH. And was that anything like love.

  TOMMY. Pray to old Neptune that he doesn’t take me down.

  SMITH. My dear friend…

  TOMMY. I don’t know how to say…

  SMITH. Let us walk up the street and through the market one last time…

  TOMMY. Maybe a little detour on the way?

  SMITH. A tot of rum to bring out the sailor in you?

  TOMMY. You know, that might just help.

  SMITH. Wan shi kai tou nan.

  TOMMY. Is that so?

  SMITH. All things are difficult before they are easy.

  TOMMY. Fare thee well, Poppy. And whenever you wear that robe, please remember the sorry soldier in skirts for a smiling moment, and most important of all, remember to be your most divine self.

  POPPY. Thank you kindly, and safe journey.

  TOMMY blows her a kiss and sweeps out of the workshop.

  SMITH leaves too.

  POPPY steps towards her room.

  They’ve gone.

  GEORGE (off). Give me a bit longer.

  POPPY. You can’t spend the rest of your life in there.

  GEORGE (off). Who says.

  POPPY. Come out.

  GEORGE reluctantly appears, dressed in a dress.

  Hello.

  POPPY holds out her hand.

  Mary Louisa Wright… but I prefer to be called Poppy.

  GEORGE takes her hand and shakes it.

  GEORGE. Ruby Morgan… but you can call me George.

  POPPY/GEORGE. Pleased to meet you.

  They look at each other as if for the first time.

  POPPY. You could have come out in your true colours to say goodbye to Tommy.

  GEORGE. I’ll be seeing him… driving him tomorrow for his train. First thing.

  POPPY. Will you let him know then?

  GEORGE. What’s the point?

  POPPY. Isn’t he your friend?

  GEORGE. Exactly.

  POPPY. But if he’s your real friend�
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  GEORGE. He’ll have enough on his mind without me bothering him.

  POPPY. I bet he’d be chuffed to see you like this.

  GEORGE. Oh, a source of amusement, am I?

  POPPY. You look a different shape, you know.

  GEORGE (imitating TOMMY). ‘It’s not me coz me tights is too tight.’

  They both smile.

  Missed you.

  POPPY. Me too.

  GEORGE. Not the same, dancing with anyone else.

  POPPY. So you’ve been out dancing?

  GEORGE. Only once.

  POPPY. Did you meet anyone?

  GEORGE. Not especially.

  POPPY. Promise.

  GEORGE. Like I said, not the same dancing with anyone else.

  POPPY (sings).

  After the ball is over…

  She starts to sway and dance a little.

  After the break of morn…

  GEORGE (sings).

  After the dancers’ leaving…

  POPPY/GEORGE (sing).

  After the stars are gone…

  GEORGE opens her arms to invite POPPY to dance.

  Many a heart is aching…

  POPPY enters the dance hold.

  If you could read them all…

  POPPY and GEORGE waltz together. GEORGE leads.

  Music plays in accompaniment.

  Many the hopes that have vanished…

  After the ball.

  Music of the song plays as they continue to dance.

  POPPY. This reminds me of school.

  GEORGE. Can’t see the connection myself.

  POPPY. After hours. Miss Pembridge would put on her gramophone…

  GEORGE. Oooh, Miss Pembridge had a gramophone, did she!

  POPPY. There was a group of us… Did you never have a waltz with your best friend?

  GEORGE. There was a gang of us.

  POPPY. Who was the leader?

  GEORGE. My brother Johnnie.

  POPPY. Did you really have four brothers, three sisters…?

  GEORGE.…and only one bicycle between the lot of us. Yep.

  POPPY. What’s Johnnie doing now?

  GEORGE. Scarlet fever got him. Way back.

  POPPY. I’m sorry.

  GEORGE. Thirteen months older he was, always three inches taller.

  POPPY strokes GEORGE’s cheek.

  POPPY. Do you like that?

  GEORGE. I dunno really.

  POPPY strokes GEORGE’s neck.

  POPPY. What about that?

  GEORGE. Couldn’t say.

  POPPY strokes the back of GEORGE’s neck and kisses her hands.

  POPPY. Didn’t realise you could carry on doing dancing and all… with your best friend when you grew up. Thought it was just practice before the real thing with your husband.

  GEORGE. Best friends, hey?

  POPPY. You’ve got a lovely face.

  GEORGE. What makes you say that?

  POPPY. I suddenly noticed it all over again.

  GEORGE. Don’t look too close now.

  POPPY. Why can’t you be soft?

  GEORGE. I’m not made that way.

  POPPY. Try letting yourself.

  POPPY kisses GEORGE gently on the cheek.

  Hello.

  GEORGE. Hello.

  They kiss.

  Let’s still make a proper go of it.

  POPPY. What kind of go?

  GEORGE. Why not get wed?

  POPPY. How could we?

  GEORGE. Like we were going to in the first place… like you said you decided… and to the world we’d be man and wife… and behind closed doors we can… be whatever we choose… Like this even… now and then… if you really want.

  POPPY. But, Ruby…

  GEORGE. Only… please don’t call me…

  POPPY. Why not?

  GEORGE. Because you make me feel more like George than anyone ever.

  POPPY. But that’s not what I mean to do…

  GEORGE. You’re my better half, see…

  POPPY. There’s so much still to find out…

  GEORGE. Marry me…

  POPPY. We don’t have to keep on playing that old game…

  GEORGE. We could make it work our way… the way we want it to work…

  POPPY. There’s no need to pretend any more, Ruby.

  GEORGE pulls away.

  GEORGE. All I want is to have free rein.

  POPPY. So be who you really are.

  GEORGE. I told you, George Sampson is who I am.

  POPPY. You don’t need him to get you anywhere… not really… not anywhere that matters…

  GEORGE. How else do I get a job as a chauffeur, at a jolly decent wage with excellent perks and working conditions?

  POPPY. I’m ready to fight to my dying breath to get every woman true equality with any man in this land.

  GEORGE. It didn’t happen in the last ten thousand years so why should it now?

  POPPY. Work alongside me… Join with our other sisters… Raise up your life as an example with your skills and knowhow, showing the new way, giving others a leg-up, by living openly, freely, truly.

  GEORGE. Poppy, love, you can’t make anyone else’s way for them.

  POPPY. We’re in it together, aren’t we?

  GEORGE. All I want to do is drive cars…

  POPPY. No one’s stopping you.

  GEORGE. Not now they’re not.

  POPPY. What kind of freedom is that, to be George who drives roughshod over the bowed backs of the rest of womankind?

  GEORGE. Well, excuse me, but here’s one who’s stopped bowing… who’s stepped up and out… who gives thanks every day for no longer being held in while the greatest show on earth’s going on out there… No more tied up in tangles by apron strings that I’d always been taught to knot myself into without even a question… playing a part that I thought was the way of it until… the only one that made it bearable did his disappearing act… And anyhow why did it all have to depend on him…?

  POPPY. That’s precisely…

  GEORGE. And you know one thing that makes my day… To be invited to throw a ball around… being welcome in the game… and kicking with the best of them… playing a few hands… And it might not be lofty and important… but it tickles me pink… Here’s one who’s on my way. And I tell you this, it’s the road for me. And if you can’t see… if you just want to make me do it your way… if you can’t cheer me on instead of trying to pull me back… what kind of love is that? So… so… Excuse me.

  GEORGE disappears back to POPPY’s room.

  POPPY calls after GEORGE.

  POPPY. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean… Ruby… I mean… George… I understand… I do… It’s the same for me… We’re like each other… We are… more than you realise… Of course, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want… That’s not what I meant… But, George… think of where you got him… born from the sodden mud when you went to look for your husband… And that was brave and daring and how many would have the guts to go all the way there? But then he stuck to you… And you feel safe inside him… I see that… But can’t you see how he’s holding you back now? Clean yourself. Wash him off. You don’t need him to protect you any more… I’m going to… I’m coming on in… We can not put on anything… be in our own skins… I want to be with you just as you are… I want you to be with me as I am too… and let’s know each other… really know each other… without anything… nothing in the way…

  GEORGE appears, dressed in chauffeur uniform.

  Did you hear me just then?

  GEORGE. Pretty much.

  POPPY. So?

  GEORGE. Best get back… One of the engines is playing up.

  POPPY. Please… give yourself… give me… give us… a proper chance.

  GEORGE. Haven’t we done that?

  POPPY. What about loving me to bits and always will?

  GEORGE. What about it?

  POPPY. Well I…

  GEORGE. Don’t…

 
; POPPY. Let me say it at least.

  GEORGE. Please don’t tell me that you love me for who I really am.

  POPPY. I do.

  GEORGE. Who you think I am isn’t who I am.

  POPPY. It’s only hard at first… to open up to each other, see… It’ll get easier… for both of us… if we really try…

  GEORGE. Not a word, right. Don’t let on, not to a living soul…

  POPPY. But…

  GEORGE. Promise me. Not a word.

  POPPY. I would never say anything to harm you…

  GEORGE. Promise.

  POPPY. Why d’you want to be a man anyway? You think they don’t suffer for their so-called freedom and power? Look at the cost to each one. See what they give up… how many, how much has been lost.

  GEORGE. We’ll not bother each other again. I’ll be off. And I’ll keep away from here.

  POPPY. George…

  GEORGE. I’ll be following the Spirit of Ecstasy wherever she leads… at the hub of the wheels as they spin… never stuck in the ruts… She’s my mascot… She’s the woman of the future and I’m her champion… How far forwards can we go… fast and free as the wind… Even sound has a speed, you know… imagine driving… flying… faster than the speed of sound… And I’m going to race. I’ll make it to Monte Carlo. I will. For starters… If any time’s the time to go for what drives you deep down… If it isn’t now, when is it?

  POPPY. Ruby…

  GEORGE starts to leave.

  GEORGE. Look after yourself, Mary. That’s your real name, isn’t it? Best live by who you really are, eh?

  POPPY. Is that it?

  GEORGE. We had our moment… for a time… at least we had that… No point wishing on… And don’t you regret a single second… I know I don’t…

  A moment of intense connection between them.

  Take care of yourself.

  GEORGE goes.

  Sounds of car engines speeding faster and faster, typing faster and faster intermingled with the distorted strains of ‘After the Ball is Over’.

  POPPY. Spirit of bloody Ecstasy!

  A cacophony builds.

  I’ll give you ‘Marry me!’ I’ll give you better half!

  She grabs the pair of tailor’s shears.

  I’ll give you fast and free!

  She raises the shears and heads towards SMITH’s curtain.

  SMITH appears.

  SMITH. What are you doing?

  POPPY. If you hadn’t cut the cloth… If you hadn’t stitched it up…!

  SMITH. What exactly are you doing?

  POPPY. I’m going to cut…

  SMITH. Cut what…?

  POPPY.…whatever you’ve been making… cut it to shreds!