Priestley Plays Four Page 4

  SAM: (Excitedly.) Did you see a dwarf in red and yellow?

  BARMAID: No. Saw the door blow open, that’s all.

  SAM: (With a sigh.) A double gin and a pint of mild, please?

  BARMAID: (As she gets drinks.) You think I’m stupid, don’t you?

  SAM: (Taken by surprise.) Well – not exactly – no. But – er –

  BARMAID: Of course you do. Well, let me tell you something. If I didn’t make myself stupid on this job, in a week I’d be round the bloody bend. That’ll be four and ten.

  As he pays and takes drinks MALGRIM enters. He is exactly as before except he is in modern clothes, of a cut and style that suggests an elderly performer. In fact, he looks like an older conjurer in the grand style.

  MALGRIM: (Smiling.) Good morning, Sam!

  SAM: (Surprised.) Oh – hello! – Let’s see – did we meet you at one of Natasha’s parties – theatrical types – Not an illusionist, are you?

  MALGRIM: How clever of you, Sam. That is exactly what I am. Malgrim is the name. (To the BARMAID.) I will have that bottle there – the green one –

  BARMAID: The creem de men-thy? But not the whole bottle?

  MALGRIM: If you please. And the tankard. (Pointing.) You want money of course – (He produces a vast wad of notes and throws it down.)

  BARMAID: ’Ere, steady on!

  MALGRIM: Don’t keep them long, that’s all. They’ll be dead leaves soon. (He now begins emptying the crème-de-menthe bottle into the tankard, to the astonishment of the other two.) But they won’t change while it’s still the thirty-first.

  SAM: The thirty-first, eh? Did you see a dwarf out there?

  MALGRIM: I did. Grumet’s his name. He’s in my employment for the time being.

  SAM: (Indignantly.) He ran away with my painting.

  MALGRIM: Ah – yes – the portrait of Princess Melicent. Well, she’s seen it – she’s delighted with it – and is longing to make your acquaintance, Sam. That’s why I’m here. (Raises the tankard.) My respects and good wishes, Sam. (To the astonishment of the other two, he drains it slowly.)

  BARMAID: (Alarmed.) Stop him – ’e’ll be unconscious in a minute. A whole bottle of creem-de-menthy!

  MALGRIM: (Smiling as he puts down tankard.) Very refreshing. Now Sam – I want to keep our talk free from any professional pedantry, if I can – but how familiar are you with the problems of higher space?

  SAM: Not at all. Who’s Princess Melicent?

  MALGRIM: Suppose we assume a universe of six dimensions. The first three are length, breadth and thickness. The next three might be called – first, the sphere of attention and material action; second, the sphere of memory; third, the sphere of imagination.

  SAM: What do you mean when you say you’re here because this princess wants to make my acquaintance?

  MALGRIM: Whatever is imagined must exist somewhere in the universe. Now you probably think Princess Melicent is an imaginary figure –

  SAM: I do and I don’t.

  MALGRIM: Quite right. Because of course she is and she isn’t. And while she knows that she herself is in real life, she feels that you must be outside it – as of course I do.

  SAM: (Rather indignantly.) You mean you don’t call this real life?

  MALGRIM: Of course not. A horrible confused botch of dreams, nightmares, phantasies, and mixed partial enchantments. But of course it exists, just as you exist in it – and you too of course, my dear – (To BARMAID.)

  BARMAID: Much obliged. I was getting worried.

  SAM: Where does my painting come in?

  MALGRIM: It doesn’t yet. I’m now explaining how it’s possible to move – once you know the trick – from our world to yours, yours to ours. I leave real life for imaginary life and meet you. When you go back with me, as you will do shortly, then you leave real life for imaginary life, to meet the princess. Which is real, which is imaginary, depends on the position of the observer. It could truthfully be said that both are real, both are imaginary.

  SAM: What about the dwarf – which is he?

  MALGRIM: Not quite either at the moment – I’ve sent him home.

  Enter CAPTAIN PLUNKET, as before.

  BARMAID: He’s back. That’s all we needed.

  CAPT. P.: Two double Scotches, dear. What about you two?

  SAM: No thanks. Got one. Captain Plunket – Mr Malgrim – the illusionist –

  CAPT. P.: Of course. Couldn’t place you for a moment. Seen you at the Savage Club. Remember you at the old Holborn Empire, too. Wonderful act. (To BARMAID as she produces drinks, tossing ten shilling note again.) Thank you, dear. Keep the change. (Drinks.)

  SAM: You sent the dwarf home? Where’s that?

  MALGRIM: The Kingdom of Peradore.

  CAPT. P.: Don’t know it – but knew a fellow called Peradore. He’d six fingers on each hand. Never kept his hands still, though. Fellas nearly went barmy trying to count his fingers.

  SAM: (To MALGRIM.) Peradore? Sounds to me like something out of Arthurian legends. So how can anybody go there?

  MALGRIM: (Smoothly.) In the third sphere are parallel times, diverging and converging times, and times spirally intertwined.

  CAPT. P.: It just shows you. And talking of times, I can put you on to a fella who has four gross of Swiss watches in the spare tank of his motor yacht. Daren’t land ’em. He’s hot as a stove. (Drains his other glass.) Let’s have a spot of lunch. Troc or somewhere. On me.

  MALGRIM: (Gravely.) Sam and I must go to Peradore.

  CAPT. P.: Been closed for years, old boy, if it’s the place I think you mean. Anyhow, you wouldn’t try and ditch Good Old Skip Plunket, would you?

  MALGRIM: Yes.

  CAPT. P.: (Linking himself with SAM.) Can’t be done, old boy. Sam and I are up to our necks in a custard powder deal and a Portuguese lighthouse. If you want to try the old Peradore, I’m game, though ten to one we’ll end up in the Troc, but where Sam goes – I go.

  MALGRIM: (Sharply.) Then take the consequences.

  CAPT. P.: Old Skip Plunket is always ready –

  MALGRIM: (Commandingly.) Silence!

  He waves his hand and the stage darkens. A lute is heard faintly. He waves a hand at the panelled wall, which opens. MALGRIM stands at the opening, waving them in.

  Gentlemen – welcome to Peradore!

  We hear the rushing wind sound as all three move in, the light fades here, the panelling is closed, and light comes up in the private bar. The BARMAID, who has fainted across bar counter, now slowly recovers. ANNE DUTTON-SWIFT and PHILIP SPENCER-SMITH, both keen and brisk, enter.

  ANNE: (Brightly.) Good-morning!

  PHILIP: (Brightly.) Good-morning!

  BARMAID: (Faintly, with an effort.) ’Morning. Turned-out – nice – again –

  ANNE: (Smiling, brightly.) We’re looking for a friend of ours –

  PHILIP: (Same.) He said he was coming along here –

  ANNE: Mr Sam Penty.

  PHILIP: Have you seen him this morning?

  BARMAID: (With an effort.) Yes. ’E’s bin in.

  PHILIP: (Brightly.) Oh – jolly good!

  ANNE: (Brightly.) But what’s happened to him?

  BARMAID: (Faintly, with an effort.) Come closer. Just ’ad a nasty turn.

  PHILIP: (Brightly, closer.) Oh – rotten luck!

  ANNE: (Closer.) Don’t force yourself.

  BARMAID: (As before.) I’ll ’ave to. ’Im an’ two other crackpots went off together – something about a princess – in a Portuguese lighthouse – with six fingers for Swiss watches –

  PHILIP: Sorry, but you’re not making this awfully clear –

  ANNE: But don’t worry – just tell us where they went –

  BARMAID: (Pointing feebly at panelling.) Through the wall.

  She collapses as light fades and we hear the sound of the electric drill again.

  SCENE FIVE

  Room in advertising agency again. As before. Pneumatic drill is still heard. DIMMOCK is discovered trying to talk at telephone. He has a gla
ss of milk and some sandwiches at his elbow. He looks very worried.

  DIMMOCK: (Into telephone, shouting above drill.) …They showed me a lay-out this morning – but I said it wasn’t good enough – dead wrong for your products – not properly aimed at the Chunky Chat public – I say – (Here the drill stops abruptly, so he goes on shouting.) Not properly aimed at your Chunky Chat public… I’m sorry – there’s a damned drill keeps starting up here… Well, we’ll try to have something to show you by the end of the week – ’Bye.

  Puts down telephone. Drinks a little milk and begins nibbling sandwich, all in an abstracted worried way. After a moment or two, a large brown rat pops out of the cupboard, far enough to be seen but keeping close. Then, as DIMMOCK sees it and rises in horror, we hear the sound of MARLAGRAM’s ‘he-he-he’ laugh. Furious, DIMMOCK hurls a notebook or pad at it and misses. We hear the ‘he-he-he’ again, and rat goes back into the cupboard.

  DIMMOCK: (Into intercom, controlling his fury.) Peggy, come in. (He stands up again, tries to eat more sandwich but finds it distasteful, perhaps tries another. PEGGY enters.) Peggy, we’ve got rats here.

  PEGGY: I’ve tried to tell you that, Mr Dimmock. I could name two of them – downright disloyal to the firm –

  DIMMOCK: No, I mean real rats. I’ve just seen one. Came out of that cupboard. A big fat brown rat – cheeky as hell. He stood there – laughing at me. What do you think of that?

  PEGGY: (Earnestly.) I think you ought to go home, Mr Dimmock.

  DIMMOCK: Go home? What are you talking about?

  PEGGY: (Pleading.) Mr Dimmock, your health comes first. Business isn’t everything. Wouldn’t you like me to send for the car and then ring up Mrs Dimmock?

  DIMMOCK: (Angrily.) No, I wouldn’t. Just because I saw a rat!

  PEGGY: Not just the rat. You said you saw a dwarf –

  DIMMOCK: Well, I did see a dwarf. Now, you get on with your work, Peggy, and let me get on with mine. (As she goes.) And tell ’em next time I don’t want sandwiches that taste like sawdust.

  PEGGY: (Turning at door, reproachfully.) Oh – Mr Dimmock – it’s not the sandwiches – it’s you –

  When she goes, he opens the cupboard cautiously. It is solidly filled with big books, files etc. as before. He stares at it thoughtfully, closes doors, then walks slowly away, and, turned away from the cupboard, tries his sandwiches and milk again. Out of the cupboard comes MELICENT, looking very beautiful, expectant, gay, in a costume we have not seen before. DIMMOCK turns and sees her and is astonished.

  DIMMOCK: Now what’s this?

  MELICENT: (Smiling sweetly.) It’s me. Who are you?

  DIMMOCK: Seeing this is my room, I ought to be asking you that. However, as you’re new – I’ll tell you. I’m Mr Dimmock, one of the directors here. And though you look very nice, my dear, you must understand we can’t have models in costume roaming about just as they like.

  MELICENT: I’m looking for Sam.

  DIMMOCK: Oh – the Damosel Stockings job. Well, Sam was here, then he went off. But I sent Anne Dutton-Swift and Philip Spencer-Smith to bring him back, so he oughtn’t to be long. As soon as he comes, you’d better pose for him again.

  MELICENT: I think I love Sam.

  DIMMOCK: You’re not the first, so take it easy. What’s your name, dear?

  MELICENT: I am Princess Melicent –

  DIMMOCK: Doesn’t surprise me. We’d the granddaughter of a Russian Grandduchess working for us, last year. And an Italian contessa. Make good models too – you aristocratic girls – it’s the training, I suppose.

  But the drill starts up for a few moments. She is terrified and puts her hands to her ears.

  DIMMOCK: (When it stops.) I ought to have warned you, dear. It’s only that pneumatic drill –

  MELICENT: (Reproachfully.) Why do you have such terrible things? We don’t have them in real life –

  DIMMOCK: In what?

  MELICENT: In real life. Have you seen Master Marlagram the enchanter?

  DIMMOCK: Never heard of him. Believe it or not, what I have seen is a large brown rat that went he-he-he or I’m barmy.

  MELICENT: (Relieved.) That’s Master Marlagram. He said he’d transform himself before he saw you.

  DIMMOCK: (In despair.) We’re off again. Hold it, dear. (Into intercom.) Peggy, I want you in here – sharp. (To MELICENT.) When my secretary comes in, just tell her what you’ve just told me. She thinks I ought to go home and lie down.

  MELICENT: (Sympathetically.) Because you have a sickness, poor man? (She goes to him, looking at him closely.) You have a kind face – but it is sad. I think you may have a sickness.

  She puts a hand on DIMMOCK’s forehead. He accepts the attention with a kind of fatuous approval. Peggy enters and does not like this business.

  PEGGY: (Acidly.) Oh – I’ll come back later. I didn’t know you were busy.

  DIMMOCK: (Bluffly.) No – no – that’s all right. Peggy – this is – er – Princess Melicent – who’s been sitting for Sam. Now, Princess, you just tell Peggy what you told me – about Master Who’s-it –

  MELICENT: (Staring at Peggy.) Alison! How did you come here?

  PEGGY: How did you know my other name’s Alison? Oh – you must be the girl my cousin Audrey mentioned to me. But you oughtn’t have come in here. Oh – I suppose you haven’t a compact –

  MELICENT: (Bewildered.) A compact?

  PEGGY: (Producing one.) You know. Like this. (She opens the compact and brings out powder puff and lipstick.)

  MELICENT: (In ecstasy.) Oh – how wonderful! Better than anything in real life. I must have one of these before Sam gets back –

  PEGGY: I’ll show you where we girls go –

  Takes her out briskly, leaving DIMMOCK bewildered. He takes a flask out of desk and pours some of the spirit it contains into his glass of milk. He is sipping this when ANNE and PHILIP march in.

  DIMMOCK: Did you get Sam?

  PHILIP: No. We went to The Black Horse and found a mad barmaid there –

  ANNE: (Giggling.) She said Sam had gone through the wall –

  PHILIP: (Laughing.) To find a princess in a Portuguese lighthouse –

  ANNE: It’s true, D.D., we’re not making it up –

  DIMMOCK: Well, his model’s here – all dressed up – very good-looking girl too. Says she’s a princess – (Telephone rings. DIMMOCK answers it.) Dimmock speaking… Spencer-Smith? Hang on a minute – (As he holds receiver for PHILIP.) Television people for you – flapping again –

  PHILIP: Spencer-Smith here. Yes?… She’s what? …Well, I warned you to have some other girl lined up –

  MELICENT enters now. PHILIP sees her.

  I know, I know – but now you’re asking me at the last minute… All right, I’ll bring somebody.

  (Puts down receiver, looks at DIMMOCK.) Look – D.D. – I’m in a jam. Can I take this model of Sam’s? (He turns to MELICENT.) Lovely little job on the telly, dear – um?

  MELICENT: What are you saying?

  PHILIP: No time to stop and explain, dear. Do it on the way.

  MELICENT: Will I see Sam?

  PHILIP: Don’t think so – but he might see and hear you –

  He takes her off with him. But MELICENT turns at door to address DIMMOCK.

  MELICENT: If Master Marlagram the enchanter comes back, tell him what has happened to me. And don’t think you can’t talk to him because he looks like a brown rat. (She goes. Anne is staring at Dimmock.)

  ANNE: D.D.? What did that girl say?

  DIMMOCK: (In a kind of controlled fury.) Can’t you understand a perfectly simple request, Anne. She said I must talk to Master Marlagram the enchanter even if he looks like a brown rat. (Shouting.) And don’t start arguing about it. Just leave it.

  ANNE: All right. But where did that girl come from?

  DIMMOCK: Out of the cupboard. (As Anne is about to say something, he shouts.) I said ‘Leave it, leave it!’ (He now notices something on his desk. It is a large calendar.) Now who did that? (He turns it ro
und and we see it shows, in large clear lettering, JUNE 31ST. Now PEGGY enters.)

  PEGGY: Mrs Dimmock’s coming to take you home. And Dr Jarvis is on his way to see you.

  DIMMOCK: (In despair.) Oh – Christmas crackers! (The telephone rings. He picks it up.) Yes, Dimmock here. Mummy’s Joy Products? I’m sick of hearing about that muck of yours. Goodbye. (He slams the receiver.)

  ANNE: (Alarmed.) D.D. – have a heart – it’s one of our best accounts!

  PEGGY: He’s not himself, Miss Dutton-Swift.

  DIMMOCK: (About to explode.) Oh – Jiminy Jorkins! – there must be some way out of all this. (He glares round in despair. Telephone rings again.) You take it, Peggy.

  ANNE: (As PEGGY takes telephone.) But honestly D.D. – we’ll have to explain to Mummy’s Joy Products –

  PEGGY: (Cutting in, primly.) It’s Master Marlagram, an enchanter – and he says ‘Try the cupboard’.

  DIMMOCK: (Desperately.) All right. I will.

  He dives clean through the cupboard.

  PEGGY: (Wildly.) After him – after him! We can’t let him go – like that – come on –

  She hurries down and dives through the cupboard. ANNE follows her just as DR JARVIS enters hurriedly.

  DR JARVIS: (Importantly, as he enters.) Now – then – Mr Dimmock – what’s this I hear? –

  He stares at the vanishing ANNE, hesitates a moment, then goes to cupboard and opens it. It is full of books and files, as before. As he stares at it and bends to listen, the pneumatic drill comes in at full blast.

  SCENE SIX

  Room in the castle, as before. LAMISON is playing his lute – and singing too possibly – and SAM, dressed exactly as before, is listening to him. SAM has a leather tankard in his hand and takes an occasional pull from it. LAMISON concludes his song or piece on the lute, with a little bow.

  SAM: Thanks very much. Let’s have another one, shall we? (LAMISON smiles and bows.) Now – wait a minute. I heard a thing the other night on the air – you’ll probably know it. Oh – yes – The Black Knight Hath My Heart –

  LAMISON: (Who is angry.) Bah!

  He stalks out angrily. If SAM is to be a pipe-smoker, he should fill and light a pipe here. Otherwise, he should roam around the room. NINETTE enters in a new costume now and looking very fine indeed. SAM, if sitting now, rises and smiles at her, and she smiles winningly at him.