An Inspector Calls and Other Plays Page 24

  BIRLING [amused]: And you’re not, eh?

  SHEILA: No, because I remember what he said, how he looked, and what he made me feel. Fire and blood and anguish. And it frightens me the way you talk, and I can’t listen to any more of it.

  ERIC: And I agree with Sheila. It frightens me too.

  BIRLING: Well, go to bed then, and don’t stand there being hysterical.

  MRS BIRLING: They’re over-tired. In the morning they’ll be as amused as we are.

  GERALD: Everything’s all right now, Sheila. [Holds up the ring.] What about this ring?

  SHEILA: No, not yet. It’s too soon. I must think.

  BIRLING [pointing to ERIC and SHEILA]: Now look at the pair of them – the famous younger generation who know it all. And they can’t even take a joke –

  [The telephone rings sharply. There is a moment’s complete silence. BIRLING goes to answer it.]

  Yes? … Mr Birling speaking…. What? – Here –

  [But obviously the other person has rung off. He puts the telephone down slowly and looks in a panic-stricken fashion at the others.]

  BIRLING: That was the police. A girl has just died – on her way to the Infirmary – after swallowing some disinfectant. And a police inspector is on his way here – to ask some – questions –

  [As they stare guiltily and dumbfounded, the curtain falls.]

  END OF PLAY

  The Linden Tree

  A PLAY IN TWO ACTS

  To J. P. MITCHELHILL

  My dear Mitch,

  I hope you will accept, with my affectionate regards, the dedication of this play. You were enthusiastic about it from the first, and it took us back to the Duchess Theatre again, in the happiest circumstances, after an interval of nearly ten years, during which it looked as if we should never work together in the Theatre again. To have you on the management once more, together with my friends of the Westminster venture – and Dame Sybil and Sir Lewis Casson playing so beautifully – this has been happiness when I had almost ceased to dream of finding it in the Theatre. So far as the play itself has any virtue, it was a virtue plucked out of necessity. The heaviest snowfall the Isle of Wight had known for about a hundred years found me down at Billingham, in a house hard to warm and then desperately short of fuel. Besieged by this cruellest of Februarys, I ate, toiled and slept in one small room, and there the Lindens were born; and for ten days or so, while I worked at the play, they were almost my only company and the people I seemed to know best. And then – what luck! – I was back with you, back with the others, back at the Duchess, and all went miraculously well. So please accept the piece as a tribute to our friendship and your love of the Theatre.

  Yours ever,

  J.B.P.

  Characters

  Professor Robert Linden

  ISABEL LINDEN, his wife

  REX LINDEN, his son

  DR JEAN LINDEN, his eldest daughter

  MARION DE SAINT VAURY, his daughter

  DINAH LINDEN, his youngest daughter

  ALFRED LOCKHART, University Secretary

  EDITH WESTMORE, a student

  BERNARD FAWCETT, a student

  MRS COTTON, housekeeper

  Synopsis of Scenes

  The action takes place in Professor Linden’s study, in the provincial city of Burmanley. Early spring, at the present time [1947].

  Act One

  Friday –

  Scene One. Late afternoon.

  Scene Two. Two hours later.

  Act Two

  Saturday –

  Scene One. Afternoon.

  Scene Two. Night, several hours later.

  In each Act, between the Scenes, the curtain is lowered for a few moments only.

  ‘The Linden Tree’ was first produced at the Lyceum Theatre, Sheffield, on 23 June 1947, and subsequently at the Duchess Theatre, London, on 15 August 1947, with the following cast:

  PROFESSOR ROBERT LINDEN

  Lewis Casson

  ISABEL LINDEN

  Sybil Thorndike

  REX LINDEN

  John Dodsworth

  DR JEAN LINDEN

  Freda Gaye

  MARION DE SAINT VAURY

  Sonia Williams

  DINAH LINDEN

  Tilsa Page

  ALFRED LOCKHART

  J. Leslie Frith

  EDITH WESTMORE

  Carmel McSharry

  BERNARD FAWCETT

  Terence Soall

  MRS COTTON

  Everley Gregg

  Produced by Michael Macowan

  Act One

  SCENE ONE

  Professor Linden’s study. It is a large room, clean but shabby. One door, preferably set obliquely and prominently between back and left (actors’) walls. Big bay window on right wall. A companion window may be presumed to exist in fourth wall. Downstage L. is an anthracite stove. Back wall and all available R. and L. walls are covered with open bookshelves up to height of about five feet, with one or two filing cabinets for lecture MSS, etc. A fairly large table, with papers, books, pipes, tobacco jar, etc., rather downstage L. of centre. A small table on back wall near door with telephone on it. As this room is often used for seminars there are plenty of chairs about, mostly oldish upright chairs near walls but also several shabby comfortable easy chairs nearer centre. Down R. a globe on stand. A few good reproductions and perhaps an excellent original water-colour or two on the walls. No domestic ornaments, and general effect that of a scholarly, cheerful, untidy, and not well-to-do man.

  It is afternoon in early spring, and rather coldish sunlight is coming through window R. and fourth wall, giving plenty of light in the room but not giving it any particular richness and warmth. At rise of curtain, stage is empty and then MRS COTTON shows in ALFRED LOCKHART. MRS C is the Lindens’ woman-of-all-work and looks it. She is middle-aged and has a curious confused manner, which must be played seriously and not for laughs. LOCKHART is a precise, anxious, clerkly middle-aged man, soberly dressed. He wears a light overcoat and carries his hat.

  LOCKHART [seeing where he is]: Oh – I say, is this right?

  MRS COTTON: Right? It’s as right as we can make it. Nothing’s right now, nor ever will be, if you ask me. Half the sitting-room ceiling come down yesterday – no warning – just come down in the night – and when I saw it, I stood there – ice-cold, turned to stone, I was – an’ couldn’t speak for ten minutes –

  LOCKHART: I’m afraid I don’t understand – I meant –

  MRS COTTON: It took me straight back – see? Lived in Croydon – an’ went out one Saturday morning for a bit o’ fish – and one o’ them buzz-bombs came – and when I gets back – it’s all over – finished for ever – all three of ’em – and the home of course –

  LOCKHART [sympathetically]: Oh yes – I remember Mrs Linden telling me. And so when you saw the sitting-room ceiling, it reminded you –

  MRS COTTON [cutting in, massively]: Turned to stone, I was – you could ’ave pushed a dozen pins into me, I wouldn’t have known – couldn’t speak for ten minutes. It’s years since now – isn’t it? – but sometimes I think to myself ‘Suppose I’m still going for that fish’ – I’m waiting outside Underwoods really an’ just dreamin’ – an’ I’ll go back an’ everything’ll be all right – Charlie an’ Gladys an’ little George – just waitin’ for me – having a good laugh, I’ll be bound –

  LOCKHART [embarrassed by this]: Yes, I see what you mean. I –

  MRS COTTON: No, you don’t. Why should you? I don’t blame you. [More confidentially, and impressively] Sometimes I feel that if I could just turn a corner somewhere – or squeeze through a narrow gap – it’ud be all right again – an’ I wouldn’t be ’ere in Burmanley but in Croydon with everything all right – [she points to the window] the sun’s not the same now. Perhaps that would be different. [With sudden change of manner, sensibly] But you’ll ’ave to see Mrs Linden in ’ere – ’cos of the sitting-room ceiling, see?

  LOCKHART [glad of this return]: That’s what I m
eant. I was afraid you thought I’d come to see Professor Linden –

  MRS COTTON: No, I ’eard you – Mrs Linden, you said. Besides he’s at the college on Friday afternoons, always – couldn’t even meet the family this afternoon. They’ve just come in a big car – all the way from London. Plenty of petrol – money no object – that’s the son, Rex –

  LOCKHART: Oh – is he here?

  MRS COTTON: Yes, with his two sisters. All smart as paint. She’s showing ’em their bedrooms. All excited. There’ll be trouble ’ere this week-end. Ceilings comin’ down – that’s a start. You’ll see. It’s the Professor’s birthday today. Watch out for that. Big changes comin’. I’ll tell Mrs Linden you’re ’ere. [Moves nearer door, then turns, confidentially.] Don’t believe all she says, she’s too excited. ’Cos Rex is ’ere. I’d ’ave bin the same.

  [She goes out, leaving LOCKHART bewildered. He stares about him a moment, tries a chair tentatively, then rises just before MRS LINDEN enters. She is a woman in her late fifties, not very smart but now dressed in her best, and with a brisk vivacious manner.]

  MRS LINDEN: Oh – Mr Lockhart, I hope you haven’t been waiting long. Poor Mrs Cotton isn’t – well – you know – quite –

  LOCKHART: No, I gathered that.

  MRS LINDEN: Only at times, when things happen to upset her. We’ve had an accident to the drawing-room ceiling. This house is really in a shocking condition, and Robert won’t make a fuss about it to the bursar – it’s University property, you know – your property.

  LOCKHART: Shall I say something to him?

  MRS LINDEN: I really don’t think it matters now. Ten years ago was the time. But do sit down, Mr Lockhart. So good of you to call so promptly when you’re so busy.

  LOCKHART: Not at all. I enjoyed the walk across. The early tulips are out on College Green. Very pleasant.

  MRS LINDEN: I’ve never cared for them. Tulips have never seemed like real flowers to me – more like something from a decorator’s. All the children have just arrived, you know – Rex, Jean, and even Marion, who’s come all the way from the very centre of France. Rex has just driven them down from London. So the whole family will be here this week-end – for the first time for years. Can you imagine what that means? No of course you can’t – not really. Now – [as she says this, confidentially, she sits fairly close to him and looks at him earnestly] – I want you to consider this little talk of ours as being strictly between ourselves – very confidential. Even my husband doesn’t know about it, and I’d much rather he didn’t, if you don’t mind.

  LOCKHART: No – of course not – if you really think –

  MRS LINDEN: Yes, I do – most decidedly. It’s about him, this little talk. And I’m appealing to you not simply as the secretary of the University but also as a friend. And Robert and I have always regarded you as a friend.

  LOCKHART: I’m very glad, Mrs Linden. And of course if there is anything I can do –

  MRS LINDEN: Poor Mr Lockhart! How often have you to say that?

  LOCKHART: About thirty times a day, at least. Including letters of course. But this time I mean it. Usually I don’t.

  MRS LINDEN: Yes – well –

  LOCKHART [encouraging her]: Yes?

  MRS LINDEN [plunging in]: Is there a definite retiring age for professors here at Burmanley?

  LOCKHART: There was. Sixty-five.

  MRS LINDEN [pleased]: Ah – I thought so.

  LOCKHART: The late Vice-Chancellor ignored it. And of course during the war it was very convenient to keep on the older professors. But now –

  MRS LINDEN: Yes – now? What is the attitude of this new Vice-Chancellor – I never remember his name –

  LOCKHART: Dr Lidley.

  MRS LINDEN: Dr Lidley. What’s his attitude? He’s not very old himself.

  LOCKHART: About forty-five, I believe.

  MRS LINDEN: I’m sure he doesn’t want old professors.

  LOCKHART [hesitantly]: Well – no – he doesn’t.

  MRS LINDEN: He doesn’t like my husband, does he? [As LOCKHART, embarrassed, does not reply.] Oh – I know. Robert doesn’t like him. And you needn’t look like that, Mr Lockhart. I’m not talking to you now as the University official. You’re here as a friend – and it’s all in confidence. Dr Lidley and my husband don’t get on, do they?

  LOCKHART: Well, of course they represent two different points of view – about the University, I mean. Totally opposed, really. Professor Linden left Oxford to come here – didn’t he?

  MRS LINDEN [emphatically]: He did – much to my disgust – though it’s all a long time ago. And he promised we’d get back to Oxford some time – and look at us! – but go on.

  LOCKHART: Well, he’s always wanted Burmanley to be as like Oxford as possible. Dr Lidley’s quite different. He’s been a very successful director of education in several cities. You might describe him as a high-pressure educationalist –

  MRS LINDEN [quietly, but firmly]: Mr Lockhart, frankly I don’t care tuppence what Dr Lidley is. The only time I met him he seemed to me one of those bright beaming bores. I hope I never see him again. And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.

  LOCKHART: What – about not seeing the Vice-Chancellor again?

  MRS LINDEN: It amounts to that, really. My husband is sixty-five today. He ought not to stay here in Burmanley any longer. He’s tired. He’s been here far too long already. He’ll never keep up with these new programmes of work you’re introducing. [She breaks off to look hard at him, then softly] Mr Lockhart, I can tell by the look in your eye that already – and quite recently – you’ve heard somebody else say what I’ve just said about my husband.

  LOCKHART [embarrassed]: Really, Mrs Linden, that’s not fair –

  MRS LINDEN [getting up]: Wives can’t afford to be fair.

  [As LOCKHART rises she regards him smilingly.]

  I think you’re fond of Robert, aren’t you?

  LOCKHART: Yes. Most of us are – I mean, the older lot here.

  MRS LINDEN [very quietly, slowly]: Well then, if you want to do him a kindness, you won’t oppose any attempt, by the other side, to get rid of him. He ought to go. And though he’s obstinate, he won’t stay where he’s not wanted.

  LOCKHART [staggered, stammering]: But – but surely – if he himself –

  MRS LINDEN [cutting in, hostess now]: Won’t you have a cup of tea? It’s here, I think.

  LOCKHART: No, thank you. I must be getting back to my office.

  [MRS COTTON enters, either with a large tray or preferably pushing a trolley, with tea for five or six persons – bread and butter and cake – on it.]

  MRS COTTON: Family’s just coming. I’ve told ’em it’s ready. [She goes out, leaving door open.]

  MRS LINDEN: Well, just stay and say ‘How d’you do’ to Rex and the girls.

  [Enter JEAN, MARION and REX. REX is the eldest, about thirty-five, good-looking, cool, humorous, very self-confident, well-dressed in an easy fashion. JEAN is a trim handsome woman in her early thirties, a clear-cut and rather cold type at a first glance, very much the professional woman. MARION is a year or two younger, pretty, softer, very well-dressed in French clothes.]

  REX [to LOCKHART]: Hello! Remember me?

  LOCKHART [shaking hands]: Yes, of course, Rex. You’re looking well.

  REX: I’m feeling quite remarkable.

  MRS LINDEN [to her daughters]: You remember Mr Lockhart, the University Secretary, don’t you?

  [As they smile, she turns to LOCKHART.]

  This is Jean – now Dr Jean Linden, if you please, and on the staff of the North Middlesex Hospital. And this is Marion, who’s come all the way from the centre of France, because now she’s Madame de St Vaury.

  REX: Really an old-world French aristocrat who wonders what Burmanley is all about.

  MARION [not pleased at this]: Don’t be an ape, Rex.

  JEAN [coldly]: I know what he means, though.

  LOCKHART [hastily]: It doesn’t seem long since you were both school
girls – and now – well – makes me feel old. Wasn’t there a René de St Vaury up here just before the war?

  MARION [smiling]: Yes. Then I met him again in London, during the war, when he was with de Gaulle. And that’s how it all began. We’ve been married four years – two children now –

  LOCKHART: Splendid!

  MRS LINDEN: You’re sure you won’t stay to tea?

  LOCKHART: No thank you. Well – nice to have seen you all again.

  [Smiles and nods, and they all murmur ‘Good afternoon’ or ‘Good-bye’ and MRS LINDEN takes him out. The other three look at each other.]

  REX [softly]: I’d say that mother’s up to something with poor little Alf Lockhart. I saw it in her eye. What about some tea?

  MARION: Mother’ll want to pour out. [Surveys tray with disgust.] Just look at it – ugh!

  JEAN: Yes, fairly sordid. But we’re all used to that. And what can you expect?

  MARION: Well, that’s what I mean. If one of our maids brought in a tray looking like that, René or his mother would have a fit.

  REX [taking a piece of cake]: This is Labour England, ducky. Not your Catholic aristocratic old world, with a nice black market on the side. And not Jean’s new world. [He has been nibbling at the cake.] If sawdust was easier to get, I’d say this cake was sawdust.

  [MRS LINDEN returns, smiling, closing door behind her.]

  Well, Mother, what are you up to with poor little Alf Lockhart?

  MRS LINDEN: Just a little chat about your father. Now let’s sit down and be cosy. You’d like some tea, wouldn’t you, Rex?

  REX: A cup, certainly.

  JEAN: And so would Marion and I.

  MRS LINDEN: Naturally, dear. But men don’t always want tea – that’s why I asked. I’m afraid this cake won’t be very nice.