Priestley Plays Four Read online

  KETTLE: (Starting up, cutting in.) For God’s sake, woman! Any more of that and I’ll – (Breaks off.) No, no. Forgive me. But I can’t endure that sort of talk now. If there’s something you think I ought to know, then tell me what it is – and then leave me alone.

  NURSE: Yes, I ’ave. Very special – an’ only for your ears as I told ’em out there.

  KETTLE: Sit down then. And have a drink – gin.

  NURSE: (Sitting down.) Just a nip – ’cos o’ the kind o’ nasty weather we’re ’aving, Mr. Kettle.

  He sits and pours out two drinks. She takes hers.

  Your ’ealth! (Drinks, and then is more confidential.) It’s all on account o’ the baby, – ’er’s, y’know, Mr. Kettle –

  KETTLE: (Seriously attending now.) I though the child died –

  NURSE: Looked as if it was going to – proper touch-an’-go – an’ she couldn’t ’ave it, of course – an’ then ’er mind wandered at the last. It’s been with my sister these last three days – an’ now the doctor says it’s perking up fast – a bonny little girl it is – and’ll take after ’er mother, I’d say – same colourin’, I’ll be bound. But now the question is – what’s to become of it? Workhouse?

  KETTLE: (Aghast.) Workhouse! Good God – never!

  NURSE: Well, I can’t keep it – an’ my sister can’t afford to – only doin’ it now to oblige –

  KETTLE: Wait a minute! (He thinks.) Suppose you had to take a baby a long way by sea – to Australia, we’ll say – what would be the best age for it to go?

  NURSE: (Giving it some thought.) Well, that’s a question, Mr. Kettle. Some ’ud say one thing, an’ some another. But I’d say – if there was proper milk arrangements, like I ’ear tell there is sometimes – then I’d say round about six months old –

  KETTLE: Where does your sister live?

  NURSE: Mrs. Grott, she is – at Number Four, Canal Terrace –

  LUDLOW now appears on scene.

  KETTLE: (Rising.) Tell her I’ll see her in the morning –

  NURSE: (Rising.) Well, Mr. Kettle, if you could –

  KETTLE: (Cutting her off sharply.) In the morning, Mrs. Parsons. I’m sorry but Mr. Ludlow and I have some business –

  NURSE: Yes, of course. Goodnight – all –

  Bustles out. KETTLE looks hard at LUDLOW.

  KETTLE: I’ve changed my mind – if you’ll accept my terms. And it’s take it or leave it. No haggling.

  LUDLOW: Name them, Walter.

  KETTLE: Give me an extra thirty shillings a week for the next six months – and I’ll keep sober and work like a black for you and your Theatre –

  LUDLOW: Another thirty shillings? It’s a lot of money –

  KETTLE: Take it or leave it. I need the money – and you’ve always underpaid me.

  LUDLOW: It’s a bargain then. But what happens when the six months are up?

  KETTLE: Australia for me – (Adding softly.) and perhaps my family.

  LUDLOW: Shall we drink to it?

  KETTLE: (Filling a glass for him.) You can drink to it! But as for me – I said sober and I meant sober. Look!

  He hurls the gin bottle off and we hear it crash as the lights go. Light on MARTIN.

  MARTIN: (Musing.) Kettle went to Australia – and took Jenny’s child with him – as his adopted daughter. And that’s all I know. There’s no Jenny – nothing left but a portrait and a glove. (Calling urgently.) Jenny! Jenny Villiers! Where are you?

  We hear her ringing laugh. MARTIN calls gladly.

  Jenny!

  Soft golden light goes on upstage C. of Green Room. SPRAG, a little middle-aged author, is ending his reading of a farce to LUDLOWS, STOKES and COMPANY, excluding KETTLE. They all wear dark clothes and sit huddled listening gloomily, except JENNY, who is dressed in white, standing near the AUTHOR, and she is gay and excited and enjoying the reading. The OTHERS, of course, are not aware of her presence. The old daguerreotype effect should be very marked in this, the final ghost scene.

  SPRAGG: (With the over-emphasis of despair.) Mr. Tooley: ‘No, ma’am, I have to confess that I never had a brother and if I had had a brother I wouldn’t have behaved like that to him.’ Mrs. Tooley: ‘Aunt Jemima, it was just another of Mr. Tooley’s tarradiddles.’ Comic business with parasol again – very effective.

  JENNY: (Laughing.) Yes, I can see her. Go on, Mr. Spragg. What’s the curtain?

  The COMPANY shows no reaction, so SPRAGG, after a despairing glance around, continues.

  SPRAGG: Aunt Jemima: ‘Well, me dear, I can only say thank goodness it’s you who’s married to the man and not me. But I’ll not cut you out of me will this time, ’cos I’m truly sorry for you married to such a fool.’ Mr. Tooley: ‘I deserve no better of you, ma’am, but in future I’ll remember to tarry before trying to diddle again –’

  JENNY: Very neat, Mr. Spragg.

  SPRAGG: Aunt Jemima: ‘Gracious – what’s that?’

  JENNY: (Genuinely interested.) Farmer Giles again, eh?

  SPRAGG: Entrance of Farmer Giles down chimney, covered with soot. (He glances at the COMPANY.) Very funny effect this, bang on the curtain. Mrs. Tooley: ‘Why it’s poor Farmer Giles.’ Farmer Giles: ‘Yes, and black in the face after listening to MR. TOOLEY’S TARRADIDDLES’.

  Gives a great sneeze – all strike attitudes – Tableau. Curtain. End of Farce – Mr. Tooley’s Tarradiddles.

  He mops his brow: and looks in despair at the glum company.

  JENNY: (Amused.) I loved it, Mr. Spragg.

  LUDLOW: (Gloomily.) Thank you, Mr. Spragg. Very funny, I’m sure.

  SPRAGG: (Exasperated.) But – dash my buttons! – You never laughed once – not one of you –

  JENNY: Oh – what a shame! Poor little man! Letting him read all that – and nobody laughed at anything but me.

  FANNY: (Gloomily.) Tell him, Mr. Ludlow.

  SPRAGG: Tell me what?

  LUDLOW: (Sadly.) I have a confession to make, Mr. Spragg. I asked you to come and give us this reading of you new piece a week or two ago, as you know. I forgot to cancel your visit and then hadn’t the heart to tell you.

  SPRAGG: Tell me what? Not closing, are you?

  LUDLOW: No, no.

  FANNY: We were closed last night, Mr. Spragg, because all attended the funeral of our leading female juvenile whom we all admired and loved dearly – our poor sweet Jenny Villiers –

  SPRAGG: (Dismayed.) Oh – I say!

  FANNY: And this is the first time we’ve met since we said goodbye to her for ever –

  JENNY: (Urgently.) No, no – darling – it isn’t like that at all.

  FANNY: (Moved.) We’re feeling it, Mr. Spragg, we’re all feeling it most deeply.

  A sob or two from the ACTRESSES, nose-blowing from MEN.

  JENNY: (Coming forward.) No – look – it doesn’t matter a bit. Please!

  Now the light begins to fade on all but JENNY and MARTIN. The voices of the OTHERS begin to fade too.

  SPRAGG: You ought to have told me, y’know. Not fair.

  FANNY: (Tearfully.) I know we ought. But we thought you might be able to make us forget…

  JENNY: There’s nothing to forget.

  MARTIN: It’s no use, Jenny. You’re a ghost even to the ghosts now.

  JENNY: (To him.) No, I’m not.

  1ST ACTRESS: (In fading tone.) And we can’t forget her…

  STOKES: (Fading tone.) It’ll take some time yet, I’m afraid…

  MOON: (Fading tone.) The heart’s right out of us, you might say…

  JENNY: (Protesting to them.) No, Sam, John, Sarah, all of you. It doesn’t matter about me. Nothing’s been lost. And all that matters is – to keep the flame burning clear.

  MARTIN: (Mumuring.) ‘The best in this kind are but shadows.’

  As PLAYERS fade out, still mumbling.

  JENNY: They’re going. They’re going. (To MARTIN.) You tell them it doesn’t matter about me – or about anybody – as long as the flame burns clear. You know.

  MARTIN: (Bewild
ered.) How should I know?

  JENNY: You did once. Tell them.

  MARTIN: Too late, they’re gone. And it was all long ago.

  Stage is dark now, except for small light on JENNY upstage L., and bigger light on MARTIN C..

  JENNY: (Whispering.) Yes, I can see you.

  MARTIN: Because we’re both ghosts.

  JENNY: (Light and voice fading.) No, it’s not like that. Why are you pretending not to understand?

  MARTIN: Why should I understand? And why did you say I knew once?

  JENNY: (A faint whisper.) Because – we talked – don’t you remember?

  MARTIN: (Alarmed.) Don’t go

  Actually she has gone, but we hear her voice. MARTIN is looking for her distractedly.

  JENNY: Yes. And don’t try to find me.

  MARTIN: (Calling, in anguish.) Jenny! Jenny Villiers!

  JENNY: (Very faint and far away.) No…not yet…not yet… Remember the link down the years…the last one is waiting…

  MARTIN: (Urgently.) I don’t understand…and I want to see you once more, Jenny…just once more…

  Her reflection now appears in the large mirror. He stares at it a moment, much moved.

  Jenny! Jenny Villiers!

  As she smiles, and her lips seem to pronounce his name, he moves towards the mirror, to take her in his arms, but moves slowly like a man in a trance. There is exultant music. But the image fades as he gets nearer, and he finally stumbles against the dead mirror.

  The glass door! Only the glass door!

  He falls with a crash in front of the mirror. The music sweeps up, and then a moment or two later door R. opens to admit OTLEY and DR. CAVE, who enter hurriedly. OTLEY switches on lights, showing Green Room exactly as it was before, with standard light on desk, etc.

  OTLEY: (Alarmed.) He’s there – look, doctor. Must have fainted.

  DR. CAVE: (Crossing with bag.) Durned good job you thought of calling me. He must have been moving around instead of resting – and then had a black-out. Frequently happens with a touch of concussion. Now – let’s see…

  They are now bending over MARTIN, who lies still.

  Hm, shocking pulse. Might have been a near thing. But, he’ll be all right. I’ll give him an injection of coramine. (Begins to prepare injection, from his bag.)

  OTLEY: I thought he was looking queer, the last time I looked in.

  DR. CAVE: (On the job.) This ought to keep him going for a few hours – and then he really will have to rest. I took rather a chance before, but with people of his type, you have to make allowance for the way their minds are working. No good telling ’em to rest if they’re not ready to rest. They just fret themselves into a worse state. There – that ought to do the trick.

  They watch MARTIN in silence for a moment. Then MARTIN opens his eyes.

  OTLEY: It’s all right, Mr. Cheveril. Doctor’s here.

  MARTIN: (Muttering.) The Glass Door. The Glass Door.

  DR. CAVE: What did he say?

  OTLEY: The Glass Door – that’s the name of his play.

  DR. CAVE: Oh yes – of course. Mind running on it, you see – That’s what happens with this type. That’s why one’s got to take risks with ’em. (In cheerful professional tone.) Now then, Mr. Cheveril, feeling better?

  MARTIN: (Sitting up slowly.) Yes, thanks… Sorry about this… But I was all right, y’know…and then when I moved towards her – she vanished…

  OTLEY looks in surprises at DR. CAVE who merely shakes his head.

  DR. CAVE: Then you did a neat little dive into a complete blackout, Mr. Cheveril. Well now, suppose we get you back into that comfortable chair, eh?

  MARTIN rises, with their assistance.

  MARTIN: Yes – but I’m all right now, y’know. (He goes slowly with their assistance, back to his chair.) I won’t try to explain… You wouldn’t believe me if I did… But I’m sorry to have been such a nuisance.

  DR. CAVE: Don’t worry about that. Fortunately, Mr. Otley took a peep at you about half an hour ago and thought you were looking queer, and so very sensibly telephoned me.

  MARTIN: (To OTLEY.) I’m much obliged.

  OTLEY: Not at all, Mr. Cheveril. But I’d better get back to my office. You can give me a buzz from the desk if there’s anything I can do for you.

  He goes out R.. DR. CAVE now lights a cigarette and looks rather quizzically at MARTIN.

  DR. CAVE: I’ve given you an injection of coramine. I’ll keep you going for a few hours – if you’ve anything you want to attend to urgently – but after that, you’ll either rest properly or find yourself another doctor.

  MARTIN: Thanks. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. But there are certain things I’d like to attend to first. And I couldn’t rest until I’d attended to them.

  DR. CAVE: So I thought. (He picks up a bottle of tablets from the desk, and looks at it thoughtfully.) You took two of these?

  MARTIN: Yes. Followed your instructions.

  DR. CAVE: Sure you took only two?

  MARTIN: Why – yes. I distinctly remember taking two and swallowing them with some water – wait a minute, though. (Thinks a moment.) I took four. Not deliberately. I remember now. I took a second two, forgetting that I’d already taken two. I say – I’m sorry.

  DR. CAVE: Don’t apologise to me. Apologise to yourself. That was asking for trouble. What probably happened was that you gave yourself such a boost that your heart couldn’t take it. (Grins at him.) What does it feel like to be nearly dead?

  MARTIN: (Remembering, slowly.) Not yet.

  DR. CAVE: What’s that?

  MARTIN: (Slowly.) It’s quite different from what you might imagine. Perhaps we go from one kind of time to another.

  DR. CAVE: You’ve been dreaming, Mr. Cheveril.

  MARTIN: I wonder.

  DR. CAVE: If you’d put just a little more strain on your system my dear sir, you’d have dropped clean out of any kind of time for good and all.

  MARTIN: (Smiling.) How do you know, doctor?

  DR. CAVE: (Rising.) Well – I don’t. My job is to mend bodies and yours needs looking after. I’ll take these, by the way. (Takes the bottle of tablets.) So, without unduly exerting yourself, just attend to anything here that you feel you can’t leave – and then get to bed, and stay there until I see you again. That’ll be sometime in the morning. And don’t worry if you don’t sleep too well tonight – and don’t take a sedative – just lie quiet. Goodnight.

  MARTIN: (As DR. CAVE goes.) Goodnight, doctor – and thank you. By the way, you might please tell Otley to look in for a moment if you see him.

  DR. CAVE gives an acknowledging wave and departs R. with his bag.

  After he has gone, MARTIN looks slowly round the room, obviously remembering what he has seen in it. Soft music. Then OTLEY renters R..

  OTLEY: Yes, Mr. Cheveril?

  MARTIN: Two things – if you don’t mind. First ask your secretary to get through to Sir George Gavin – the number’s – er – Regent Six One Five Oh – he may not be there, but leave a message for him to ring me here as soon as he can – it’s rather urgent.

  OTLEY: (Making a note.) Yes – got that. Anything else?

  MARTIN: (Hesitating a little.) Well – you remember that young actress who wanted to see me – ?

  OTLEY: Ah – I’m sorry about that, Mr. Cheveril –

  MARTIN: No, that’s all right. I refused to see her. I was wrong. If she comes back, I want to see her.

  OTLEY: All right, Mr. Cheveril. But it isn’t likely she will come back.

  MARTIN: (Slowly remembering.) Y’know, I think she might. The last thing she said – and I thought it odd at the time – was ‘You’ll be sorry soon that you said that.’ That was after I told her to clear out. And she was quite right. Now I am sorry.

  OTLEY: Still – that wouldn’t bring her back, would it?

  MARTIN: I don’t know. It might. She also told me to be careful.

  OTLEY: (Surprised.) Careful about what?

  MARTIN: Ghosts, I think.
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  OTLEY: Oh – well – Mr. Cheveril – it’s like I told you – you know how superstitious they all are –

  Enter ALFRED LEATHERS L..

  LEATHERS: Not interrupting anything, am I?

  MARTIN: No, come in, Alfred.

  LEATHERS: I’m not wanted on the stage for a spell, so I just came up to see how you’re getting on.

  MARTIN: We were talking about ghosts. And I was about to remind Mr. Otley that we’re ghosts too.

  OTLEY: (Smiling.) Now, now, Mr. Cheveril – none of that. Well, I’ll get your London call put through as soon as I can, and I’ll tell ’em down at the stage door to let that young woman come up – if she does come back.

  MARTIN: (As OTLEY goes R..) Thanks.

  Exit OTLEY R..

  MARTIN smiles at LEATHERS, who has brought up a chair.

  Alfred, do you believe we’re ghosts too?

  LEATHERS: I know I often feel like one.

  MARTIN: That’s not what I meant.

  LEATHERS: Then I wouldn’t know what you mean. But what I mean is that I’ve been acting too long – and – as the youngsters like to say it – I’ve had it. In fact, the Theatre’s had it. We’ve had one or two hold-ups down on the stage this last hour, and Pauline and Jimmy Whitefoot and I have been arguing a bit. And I think you’re right – and they’re wrong. The Theatre’s finished and we might as well admit it.

  MARTIN: (Smoothly.) It was different when you were young, of course, – eh?

  LEATHERS: (Expanding.) Different? I should think it was.

  MARTIN: You’ve seen some great nights in the Theatre, I imagine, Alfred.

  LEATHERS: I have, Martin. And they’ll never come again. Don’t forget that in my time I’ve played with Irving, Ellen Terry, Tree, Mrs. Pat –

  MARTIN: Great names, Alfred.

  LEATHERS: (Clearly echoing Stokes’ speech.) Ah! – but the Theatre was the Theatre in those days, Martin. It was all the public had and so we all did our best with it. None of your films and radio and television and the rest of ’em then. It was the Theatre and the Theatre as it ought to be. Now they’ll go to anything –

  MARTIN: Just a rage for silly amusement –

  LEATHERS: You’ve taken the words out of my mouth. Yes, silly amusement – and it’s all money, money, money –