An Inspector Calls and Other Plays Page 31

  MARION: I don’t see what this has got to do with anything we’ve said.

  MRS LINDEN: And neither do I. And I don’t believe it has. Has it, Rex?

  [She looks appealingly at REX, who does not reply but appears rather embarrassed.]

  PROFESSOR [grimly]: Well – Rex?

  [REX finally shrugs his shoulders.]

  My dear, your son is much too intelligent to reassure you.

  MRS LINDEN [sharply]: Too good-mannered, you mean.

  PROFESSOR [sharply]: His manners are excellent. I wish mine were half as good. But – if you will have it – what I do mean is that the whole lot of you, except young Dinah, are now busy turning away from life, giving it up. The Lindens are leaving the mucky old high road. And somebody’s got to stay.

  [Enter DINAH and JEAN. The latter is ready for travelling.]

  DINAH: Mrs Cotton’s furious because she says somebody’s taken her tin of soap flakes.

  PROFESSOR [taking his letters]: I must post these at the corner.

  DINAH: I’ll take them.

  PROFESSOR [beginning to move]: No, thanks. I’m letting off steam. Better finish it off outside. [He goes out hastily.]

  [There is at once a certain slackening of tension.]

  JEAN [to REX]: Have I time to telephone to London?

  REX: You have, but I wouldn’t advise it. We’ll make a stop on the road.

  MRS LINDEN: Dinah darling, how would you like to come to London? We could probably arrange for you to go to the Royal College or the Academy of Music.

  DINAH [excited]: And concerts! Wow! Of course that would be marvellous! But what’s happening? Are we all going now? I haven’t packed – or anything.

  JEAN [rather heavily]: No, we’re not. Dad isn’t going. [To her mother] Is he?

  MRS LINDEN [rather sharply]: No, he’s not. And I was just going to explain that, Jean, if you hadn’t interrupted.

  JEAN [pointedly]: I’m glad.

  MRS LINDEN: Don’t interfere, please, Jean.

  JEAN: I’m not going to.

  REX: Look, chaps – drop this. We’ll be off in a minute –

  MRS LINDEN [turning to DINAH]: Your father’s staying here – at least for the time being, though in my opinion he won’t be here very long, even if the University doesn’t insist upon his resignation. And I think they will, although he pretends they won’t.

  DINAH: Then I shall stay too. Daddy couldn’t be here all by himself. Besides, I like it here, really. [Looks at them all rather accusingly.] What’s been happening? Have you been saying things to him?

  REX [with grin]: No, he’s been saying things to us.

  DINAH: Oh – that’s all right, then. [Looks anxiously at her mother.] Do you think I’ll be able to manage Mrs Cotton?

  MRS LINDEN: Well, I never could.

  DINAH: No, I’m better at her than you.

  MARION [worried]: Mother – I know I agreed it was the best thing to do – but – well, Dinah and Mrs Cotton – I can’t help feeling worried, you know – now that –

  JEAN [cutting in]: I should think so, too.

  MRS LINDEN: If I thought for a moment it was going to last, of course I’d agree with you. But it won’t. And it’s the only way. I told him plainly what I felt – but in his present mood I was just wasting my time. It really is the only way.

  DINAH: What is? What’s this all about?

  REX [as his mother doesn’t reply]: About Dad staying on here –

  DINAH: Oh – we’ll manage all right – you’ll see –

  [Enter MRS COTTON, in a grim searching mood. DINAH turns and sees her.]

  Mrs Cotton – you and I can manage this house somehow, can’t we – and look after the Professor?

  MRS COTTON: Yes, we can. Manage better. [Looks grim and searchingly at MARION.] Wasn’t it you that was drying some smalls on the cistern this morning?

  MARION [taken aback]: No, it wasn’t.

  JEAN: They were mine – why?

  MRS COTTON [grimly]: Well, it’s a round biscuit-box really – with a dent in the lid and a picture of Clacton front round it – and full of my soap flakes –

  JEAN: Well, I haven’t seen it.

  MRS COTTON [grimly]: That’s what you say. One of you’s taken it –

  DINAH [cheerfully]: No, they haven’t. It’s still here somewhere – and I’ll find it. You know I can always find things. And I promise.

  MRS COTTON [grumpily, going off]: All right, so long as you say so. [She goes.]

  [REX looks at his watch.]

  REX: We ought to be going, you know. Is everything in the car?

  JEAN: My case isn’t. It’s in the hall.

  REX [moving]: I’ll put it in. Then we ought to get cracking. There isn’t much time. There isn’t much time. [Goes out.]

  [As he goes, JEAN goes nearer DINAH.]

  JEAN: Dinah, if a telephone call comes for me, say I’m on my way back.

  DINAH: All right.

  JEAN: Say I ought to be up at the hospital about eight or half-past. Is it worth telling Mrs Cotton? How is she about telephones?

  DINAH: She answers it, but she hates it – and so she says anything she feels at the time. As if a nasty-looking stranger had popped into the house.

  [Enter PROFESSOR.]

  PROFESSOR: Rex says you ought to be off.

  MARION [moving]: We’re coming now.

  PROFESSOR: I’ll be out in a minute.

  MARION: Oh – dear!

  DINAH [moving with JEAN]: What’s the matter?

  MARION [still moving]: I don’t know. But I feel rather sad now.

  [They go out leaving PROFESSOR and MRS LINDEN alone, not far from door, ready to move out.]

  MRS LINDEN: Will you be in tonight, Robert?

  PROFESSOR: Yes, unless there are dramatic developments over at the University.

  MRS LINDEN: You’re too optimistic about this business.

  PROFESSOR: Why do you say that?

  MRS LINDEN: I have a feeling they want to get rid of you – and that they will. So don’t expect too much. I’ll ring you up from Rex’s flat.

  PROFESSOR: Good!

  MRS LINDEN: But I meant every word I said, Robert. I’m not coming back. It’s for your sake as much as mine. And this time you’ll have to give in. [As if about to break down] Oh – Robert – I hate this –

  PROFESSOR: So do I, Isabel. It’s all wrong. [He kisses her, lightly.] You think I’m making a mistake. I think you are. But don’t let’s make a quarrel out of it, not after all these years. You’re my wife. I love you very dearly.

  MRS LINDEN [as if about to change her mind]: Oh – Robert – I’ll –

  [She hesitates.]

  PROFESSOR: Yes, my dear?

  [REX can now be heard calling, through open door, impatiently but gaily.]

  REX [off]: Come on, Mother. We’re all set – the road’s a-calling –

  MRS LINDEN [calling]: I’m coming, darling. [Changed again now, she looks sharply at PROFESSOR.] I’ll ring you tonight, Robert.

  [She turns and walks out, and, with something melancholy in the set of his back, he follows her. We then hear DINAH calling.]

  DINAH [off]: Yes, she is. She’s here now.

  [There is a pause of a moment or two, then the telephone bell rings sharply. Then it waits a moment, and rings sharply again. Again it waits, then continues ringing. MRS COTTON, smoking a cigarette and looking annoyed, comes in to answer it.]

  MRS COTTON [at telephone]: Yes? … Who? Doctor? … Professor Linden lives ’ere…. Oh – that one. No, she isn’t … just gone…. I don’t know an’ I don’t care…. I sound bad-tempered ’cos I am bad-tempered.

  [As she bangs down the receiver, glares and blows smoke at it, the curtain is coming down for the end of Scene One. House lights stay down.]

  SCENE TWO

  [When curtain rises, a minute later, for opening of Scene Two, at night, several hours later, curtains are drawn across window and artificial lighting is on. This lighting should not be as general as it
was in Act One, Scene Two, but more intimate, perhaps making use of large standard lamp downstage L. Door is half-open. DINAH and MRS COTTON are conferring. DINAH is holding several small shop-keeping books, while MRS COTTON is perched on arm of chair, still smoking a cigarette and holding a cup of tea. We feel that this housekeeping conference, for that is what it is, has been on some time. DINAH is puzzling over one of the small books, which she holds open frowning at it, and MRS COTTON is watching her, and nothing is said for a few moments.]

  DINAH: Oh – dear – this rationing’s difficult, isn’t it?

  MRS COTTON: ’Alf the time it isn’t difficult – it’s just bloody impossible. Minute I think o’ them shops, up the language comes. I come out with it at Frost’s, greengrocer’s Tuesday mornin’, an ’e says ‘You’re no lady to talk like that’. An’ I says ‘I know I’m not – but you’re no greengrocer neither, though you’ve got it up outside you are’, I says.

  DINAH [consulting book]: What’s this about suet?

  MRS COTTON: I don’t know – but try to get it, that’s all. An’ your Pa likes a bit o’ suety stuff – every proper man does –

  DINAH: I do too. Steak pudding – and treacle roll –

  MRS COTTON: That’s ’cos you’re young. Lies on my stomach like lead. But never mind what it says there about it. Just try to get some, that’s all.

  DINAH: Well, I will – but the trouble is, I haven’t much time –

  MRS COTTON: Don’t be silly. I’ll do it, same as I did for your Mum. Leave it to me –

  DINAH: Well, I’d like to, Mrs Cotton, because I don’t really understand much about housekeeping, though I’ll do my best –

  MRS COTTON: Well, your best an’ my best an’ all the shops’ best – won’t make much dam’ diff’rence, ’cos if we ’aven’t got it, then we can’t ’ave it. ’Cept on the Black Market touch, of course.

  DINAH: If somebody offered me chocolate on the Black Market I’d take it.

  MRS COTTON: So would I. Specially soft centres.

  DINAH: Hard centres, I like. But then nobody ever does.

  MRS COTTON: That’s ’cos you’re not in the know.

  DINAH: Are you in the know, Mrs Cotton?

  MRS COTTON: Not up this way, I’m not. Might be at ’ome. But I’ll bet I know one who is – an’ that’s your brother – that Rex. An’ I’ll bet he has your Mum all fixed up nice on Black Market tack – chickens an’ cream an’ eggs an’ whisky –

  DINAH: I don’t think Mummie likes whisky –

  MRS COTTON: I wish I didn’t, ’cos I never see any, except that ’alf-bottle Bert sent me for Christmas.

  DINAH [with solemn air]: Well now, Mrs Cotton, what about tomorrow –?

  MRS COTTON: Sunday.

  DINAH: Yes, I know. But I mean – meals an’ things –

  MRS COTTON: Don’t you worry, we’ve enough stuff left over to do us nicely.

  DINAH: Well, then, Monday – ?

  MRS COTTON: It’s only Saturday now – you needn’t bother your ’ead about Monday. Leave it to me. An’ don’t look so solemn about it – ’cos it’s no use – it’s all ’it or miss, these days, an’ mostly miss – an’ if you start takin’ it all serious, you’ll soon be off your rocker. Matter of fact, ’alf the people nowadays are off their rockers, what with one thing an’ another. Told you about my cousin, ’aven’t I?

  DINAH: You mean the one who’s married to two different men?

  MRS COTTON: No, that’s poor Florrie - she’s not all there neither. But this is another one, Agnes, married to a baker. Know ’ow it takes ’er? [In a loud whisper] Saves tissue paper. Collects it an’ saves it. Go miles, for some. Smooths it out – irons it sometimes – an’ puts it away all nice. – Got at least a cupboard full.

  DINAH: But why?

  MRS COTTON [same whisper]: Nobody knows. She doesn’t know. Bit mental. That’s ’ow it takes’er. I tell yer, ducks, there’s more an’ more goin’ queer – mental. Man called at the back door, Thursday – clean-looking oldish man with a beard – spoke quite refined – an’ said ’e’d bin sent by the Prophet Enoch –

  DINAH [astonished, half laughing]: The Prophet Enoch?

  MRS COTTON: True as I’m ’ere.

  [A distant ring, at front door.]

  DINAH: Somebody at the door. Do you think this might be one of them?

  MRS COTTON [moving]: Might be. I’ll go. [She goes out.]

  [DINAH gives the book in her hand a last puzzled look, then puts it down. MRS COTTON now reappears at doorway.]

  MRS COTTON [grumpily]: Student.

  [She shows in EDITH WESTMORE, then closes door as she goes.]

  EDITH: Professor Linden told us to call here tonight after the Union show –

  DINAH: He’s out but he’ll be back any minute. Do sit down. Where’s what’s-his-name?

  EDITH: Bernard Fawcett?

  DINAH: Yes.

  EDITH: He’ll be coming along. But I didn’t wait for him. He isn’t a friend of mine – I don’t like him much.

  [She is now sitting down – DINAH just perches casually.]

  DINAH: I don’t know him really. He always looks as if something or somebody has just upset him.

  EDITH: Usually they have. [She laughs, then hesitates.] Is your brother still staying here?

  DINAH: No, he drove back to London this afternoon. Did you meet him?

  EDITH: Just for a minute or two, yesterday. He’s very attractive, isn’t he?

  DINAH: I don’t know really. – Yes, I suppose he is.

  EDITH: It’s surprising he isn’t married, isn’t it?

  DINAH: He’s not the type, I think. He couldn’t bother settling down with just one person.

  EDITH: Still – a lot of men seem like that, don’t they? And then they do marry after all.

  DINAH: Yes. I suppose it could happen with Rex. Probably somebody terribly glamorous – like a film star, that he could show off in expensive places. Rex is very clever in a sharp sort of way. Do you know a game called Black Sam?

  EDITH [rather despondently]: No. We never played games at home.

  DINAH: It’s our Linden family game. We used to play it a lot. And last night we played it again. And it was just the same as it used to be. Rex won again. He always used to win. [Begins laughing.] And the whole last hour he was cheating, and we didn’t know. He always did when we used to play it. And last night – Jean – that’s my doctor sister, who’s very serious and grown-up usually – was absolutely furious with him. People don’t really change much, do they? Not inside themselves. And when they let themselves go again – when they’re back with the family and are being silly – they’re just the same as they always were.

  EDITH: One of my brothers is quite different from what he was before the war. Now he won’t look at you for a long time but then he suddenly stares – and laughs – in a meaningless sort of way. [Hesitates a moment, then hesitantly] Do you think – this lipstick – suits me –?

  DINAH [rather astonished]: I don’t know. I’m not good on lipstick. [Goes closer to her, inspecting her.] No. Much too dark.

  EDITH [miserably]: Oh dear! [Then, bursting out] Sometimes I wish I weren’t a girl. Don’t you?

  DINAH: I used to. But now I don’t care – just don’t bother about it.

  [MRS COTTON opens door. Same tone as before]

  MRS COTTON: Another student.

  [BERNARD FAWCETT enters, wearing a very shabby overcoat and a muffler, but with no hat. MRS COTTON closes door.]

  FAWCETT [gloomily]: Hello!

  DINAH: Hello! Father’ll be back any minute. Won’t you take off your overcoat?

  FAWCETT [gloomily]: No thanks.

  DINAH: What’s the matter?

  FAWCETT [irritably]: These dam’ colds I get. I had a bad one yesterday – all the week, in fact. Then this afternoon I thought it had gone. Now it’s come back again. Head aches and can’t taste anything properly. But I’ll smoke if it’s all the same to you.

  DINAH: Of course.

  [FA
WCETT pulls out a clumsy-looking cherrywood, of the type favoured by young students, and lights it rather awkwardly, then puffs out smoke gloomily.]

  FAWCETT: That Union show was lousy.

  EDITH [mildly]: I rather liked it this time.

  FAWCETT [rudely]: You would!

  EDITH [sharply]: Don’t be so rude.

  FAWCETT [astonished]: What?

  EDITH [still sharply]: I said don’t be so rude.

  FAWCETT: What’s the matter with you?

  EDITH: I don’t know why you boys think you have to behave like – like louts – just because you’ve come to a university – because you’re students. If you could only see what you looked like – in comparison – with – with – other kinds of men – you’d – you’d –

  FAWCETT: Don’t bother with it, Westmore. You sound to me as if you’ve fallen for somebody.

  EDITH [hastily]: I haven’t – don’t be stupid –

  FAWCETT [turning to DINAH]: What’s this about your father?

  DINAH [alert at once]: What about him?

  FAWCETT: Told another bloke who’s taking history – chap called Thring – I was coming on here to get next week’s essay subject – and he said I needn’t bother. Because, he told me, there’s a strong rumour going round that your father’s retiring – right off –

  DINAH [sharply]: Well, it isn’t true.

  FAWCETT: Very strong rumour, he said. ‘Prof. Linden’s had it’ he said.

  EDITH [hastily]: Oh – for goodness sake, shut up.

  FAWCETT: Why should I – [he sneezes violently.] Oh – blast!

  DINAH [who has been rigid, fiercely]: And I hope it’s ’flu – and the kind that gives you awful pains in your inside and they make you have castor oil –

  [She has now stalked out. FAWCETT stares after her in astonishment, then looks at EDITH.]

  FAWCETT: Did she say she hoped it was ’flu?

  EDITH [fiercely]: Yes. She was furious because you said that about her father. ‘Prof. Linden’s had it’! What a way to talk! And what a thing to say to her!