STAGE 12
A COLLECTION OF
SKETCHES AND ONE-ACT PLAYS
BY PETER D. WILSON
Copyright Peter D. Wilson 2011
Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes
Thank you for downloading this e-book. Despite being available free of charge, it remains the copyrighted property of the author. Nevertheless, individual scripts with this page as preface may be freely copied for the purpose of considering or rehearsing a production, and as a rule no royalties are payable for amateur performance, although if possible the author should be notified of the intention. Otherwise no part may be reproduced, copied or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial purpose without his permission.
Copyright Peter D. Wilson 2011
If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copies at Smashwords.com.
Thank you for your support.
For permission to
reproduce material from this e-book,
please apply stating extent
and purpose of the request;
contact
details may be found under "About the author".
Disclaimer
Any resemblance to real persons in these scripts is coincidental.
Cover photograph: Roman theatre, Palmyra, Syria. Copyright Peter D. Wilson 2011.
CONTENTS
BRIEF SKETCHES (written for specific occasions)
Independence
Day (mini-drama; 2m, 1f; 10 minutes)
A teenage son
is at the stage of leaving home, but his parents too find advantages
in independence.
Perils
of Travel (conversation piece; 2f; 10 minutes)
Two
young professional women, awaiting a flight to a meeting, discuss a
missing passenger, security issues, and why not to travel in a
business suit.
Crash
(mini-drama; 2f; 8 minutes)
A teenage girl, who may or may not be
dreaming, is visited by a friend who may or may not have stolen the
first's boy-friend, and has been involved in a horrendous road
accident.
Inn
Memory (mini-drama; 2f; 8 minutes)
Why is the
visitor alarmed by a completely peaceful rural scene?
ONE-ACT (mostly of competition length)
Good
Intentions (comedy; 3m, 3f; 50 minutes)
George
means well but lacks won't-power, and events conspire against his
good intentions. Fortunately he is shunted off the road so paved
before reaching its proverbial destination.
Danube
Moon (comedy; 2m, 2f; 30 minutes)
A disagreeable
divorcee unexpectedly encounters her ex-husband on a river cruise,
and quite against her intentions helps him out of a desperate
situation.
Whitefly
(drama; 2m, 3f, 1 either; 40 minutes)
An unscrupulous journalist
causes disaster to a small community in her determination not to let
the truth get in the way of a good story about a local project.
(Adapted for the stage from an original written for
television, given in the "Other
fiction" section of the author's web
site.)
Nemesis
(dark-grey comedy; 1m, 2f; 30 minutes)
"Hell is other people"
said Sartre, but Alan, his wife and mistress find otherwise; and who
has murdered whom, or doesn't it matter?
In the author's opinion the best script of the set.
Coincidence
(comedy; 3m, 3f; 30 minutes)
A series of outrageous coincidences
reunites several old acquaintances.
Green
Eyes (drama; 3m, 2f; 45 minutes)
Sally and Kevin
are keen environmentalists. Kevin becomes unreasonably jealous of
Sally's contacts with a specialist she has interviewed for the local
newspaper and accidentally causes his death, with subsequent agonies
of remorse. This drives them apart until his subsequent conduct
enables him to forgive himself.
Fish
out of Water (comedy mystery; 8m, 17f, 1 m or f; 60
minutes)
Among a mixed bunch of passengers on a river cruise, one
is the object of particular interest for several others on covert
business, but insists that he is not who they think; or is he?
Waiting
(drama; 10m, 10f; 45 minutes)
A busload of passengers is left
stranded and wondering why; the reason proves more drastic than they
could have imagined, but to resolve some old problems.
**********
INDEPENDENCE DAY
A miniature domestic drama
Characters
Joan An over-solicitous Mum.
Eric Her husband, a harassed minor functionary, with a pedantic manner, inclined to clichés.
Bob Their teenage son, at the rebellious stage.
Set
A family sitting room, conventionally furnished with a settee roughly in the centre, otherwise at discretion.
Time
The present
*****
Opening
Joan is seated on the settee, half her attention on a holiday brochure. She turns the pages distractedly, anxiously consulting her watch from time to time. She repeatedly returns to a particular page, then with a regretful sigh and a shake of the head, puts it aside as an outer door is heard to open and close. After a pause, Eric enters, carrying a briefcase, and lightly pecks her on the cheek.
ERIC Hello, dear. Sorry I'm late.
JOAN It's all right. There's no hurry.
ERIC How's the day been?
JOAN Not bad.
ERIC Not good, either, by the sound of it.
JOAN I've been worried.
ERIC About Bob?
JOAN Yes. It's the first time he's been away from home overnight.
ERIC About time, too. A lad of his age ...
JOAN Yes, but you never know what these lads get up to. You hear such dreadful stories ...
ERIC Look, dear, you fret too much. He's a sensible chap, as they go, and for goodness' sake, he's only been staying with a friend after the concert. You wouldn't have wanted him trailing right across the town at God knows what hour. Let alone waking us up when he got in - or more likely keeping us up waiting.
JOAN I suppose you're right. But I didn't sleep anyway.
ERIC No, and you made sure I didn't either.
JOAN Get away with you. You were snoring like a grampus.
ERIC (with dignity) I do not snore.
JOAN How do you know? You couldn't hear it. Anyway, how about you? Had a busy day?
ERIC As always. Not over yet, either. (Indicating the briefcase, sighing) More papers to deal with.
JOAN Oh, really, it's too bad. You let yourself be put upon.
ERIC Well, it's got to be done. At least if I get these out of the way tonight, the weekend should be free.
JOAN It never used to be like this.
ERIC No, but with the "no replacement" policy, everyone's having to cram more in. It can't go on indefinitely, though. We're all getting worn out. No one was really awake this afternoon.
JOAN You need a holiday.
ERIC I know. Just haven't been able to take the time off, with so much going on. Still, there's light at the end of the tunnel. Things should slacken off for the summer in a week or two.
JOAN (hopefully) Really? We can get away then?
ERIC Don't see why not. Anywhere you particularly fancy?
JOAN Well, I was just looking at this brochure ... (Finding the page) Here - "Special offer during July - two for the price of one. Cruise the coast of Asia Minor from Antalya to Kusadasi ..."
ERIC Bit out of our league, isn't it?
JOAN Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud. Spread your wings a little!
ERIC I don't know. Isn't that the firm that was criticised when one of their cruises had to be taken by coach because the water wasn't deep enough for the boat?
JOAN That was a river trip. No one's going to pull the plug out of the Med.
ERIC I suppose not. Let's have a look. (He studies the itinerary) Hm, might be quite interesting. And at that price ... yes, the budget would just about run to it. Two for the price of one. I like that.
JOAN But what about Bob? We'd have to pay full price for him.
ERIC Who said anything about taking Bob?
JOAN (stating the obvious) We can't leave him behind, can we?
ERIC I don't see why not.
JOAN But he's always taken his holidays with us.
ERIC You mean we've always taken him on holiday with us.
JOAN That's what I said.
ERIC No it isn't. It's a different thing altogether. You imply that he had a choice in the matter. If he did, I'm not at all sure that he'd have come. Most lads of his age are off with their own pals.
JOAN Yes, and look what they get up to. Drink ... drugs ...you know.
ERIC So that's what it's all about. Look, the longer you keep him on your apron strings, the more violently he's going to react when he does get the chance.
JOAN (bursting with a hitherto contained anxiety) Eric, I'm worried.
ERIC (wearily) So, what's new?
JOAN I was tidying his room today ...
ERIC Joan! You know how he hates that.
JOAN Yes, but he left the door open ... I couldn't help seeing what a mess it was in.
ERIC You might have just closed the door.
JOAN I suppose I might. But, anyway, I didn't. I found some magazines - horrible magazines.
ERIC What sort?
JOAN You know ...
ERIC No, Joan. I don't know. That's why I asked.
JOAN Vile pictures ...
ERIC I see, I think I can guess.
JOAN I threw them out, of course.
ERIC Joan! Do you really think that was wise?
JOAN Why ever not?
ERIC For a start, they aren't your property ...
JOAN You're not going to let a technicality like that bother you, surely!
ERIC ... and more practically, he'll know you've been snooping.
JOAN Snooping?
ERIC What else could you call it? And another thing, suppose anyone goes rooting in our dustbin, do you want them found?
JOAN (in disgust) Oh, really!
The outer door opens and slams shut. Bob, not a picture of elegance, breezes in, obviously just passing with no wish for more than the most perfunctory courtesies.
BOB Hello, Mum ... Dad.
ERIC Hello, son. How was the concert?
BOB Not bad. The amps could have done with pepping up a bit ...
ERIC Yes, I thought it must have been a subdued affair. We couldn't hear it - and it was only six miles away.
JOAN Dinner in a quarter of an hour?
BOB OK. (He withdraws)
ERIC What's it to be?
JOAN Irish stew. (With feeling) Oh, how I wish I could get away from all this!
ERIC (astonished) You mean, permanently? Doing a Shirley Valentine?
JOAN That's a thought - I rather fancy Tom Conti.
ERIC Some hopes!
JOAN No, I suppose it'll have to be just the usual fortnight in bloody Sidmouth.
ERIC It doesn't have to be bloody Sidmouth. Cornwall's quite nice ...
JOAN (scornfully) Cornwall!
Bob bursts in, thunderously and furious.
BOB Mum! You've been messing about with my room again!
JOAN I've tidied it, yes. It was such a pigsty ...
BOB I can't find anything now. How the hell do you expect me to put up with it?
ERIC Bob! That's no way to speak to your mother!
BOB Oh, don't be so bloody pompous. There are some books I borrowed from Tubby Gordon - he wants them back tonight ... or else.
JOAN And what sort of books would they be?
BOB (a shade embarrassed) Well ...
ERIC I think you may find them in the dustbin. Oh, don't worry - the liner was changed today.
BOB You've no right! Meddling with my things ...
ERIC (firmly) May I remind you that this is a family home. It isn't a hotel - however much like one you may treat it - and your mother and I are responsible for what goes on here. We won't have that sort of muck under our roof! Is that understood?
Bob is about to expostulate, but thinks better of it and goes.
ERIC Pompous!
JOAN (giggling despite herself) Well, you were just a shade.
ERIC It's no laughing matter.
JOAN Sorry, dear.
Bob returns, carrying magazines in a plastic bag, still angry but controlled.
BOB Right, that's it. You don't want these under your roof. You won't want me under it, either.
JOAN Bob!
BOB Joe Billings suggested weeks ago I should move in with him.
JOAN Move?
BOB I should have had the sense to take him up on it then. Well, better late than never.
JOAN What about your dinner?
BOB Stuff your ruddy dinner! And I hope it chokes you!
Exit. Stunned silence for a moment, then Joan starts weeping. Eric tries to comfort her.
ERIC Steady on, old girl.
JOAN I've got to stop him.
She moves to follow, but Eric restrains her.
ERIC No, dear. How can you? In any case, try to stop him now and you've lost him for ever. Let him go, and he'll probably come back.
JOAN You think so?
ERIC Probably not to live here. He's got to leave the nest some time. This may be as good as any.
Bob returns with a small bag. His anger has abated.
BOB Sorry I blew my top. I've just packed a few things for the night. I'll be back for the rest later. If you don't mind.
ERIC Of course not.
BOB Oh - (passing Eric a hand-written card) and here's the address.
ERIC (offering his hand) Good luck, son.
Bob hesitates a moment, then shakes hands, and with some diffidence hugs Joan. He leaves. Joan subsides rather tearfully on to the settee.
ERIC Well ...
JOAN He's gone. They all go sooner or later, don't they? Every family breaks up.
ERIC He's gone, yes. He needs his own space. But he left his address. He wouldn't have done that if he wanted to break with us, would he?
JOAN I suppose not.
ERIC Come on, cheer up. Let's think about that holiday.
JOAN All right. I'll try. What do you think?
ERIC Where's that brochure?
JOAN (passing it) Here.
ERIC Let's see. Antalya to Kusadasi. Two for the price of one. We could do it now.
JOAN So we could.
ERIC Yes, after all that, there's something to be said for being independent, isn't there?
CURTAIN
**********
PERILS OF TRAVEL
Characters
Anne A capable, practical professional woman in her mid to late twenties, probably on the way to higher management. She normally keeps her feelings under close control, which however does sometimes slip.
Barbara A rather younger professional, competent in her speciality but less worldly than Anne, with whom she is nevertheless sufficiently familiar for a measure of light banter to be accepted.
Set
An anonymous international airport lounge.
Time
Late 2002.
*****
Opening
The Tannoy announces "Will passenger MacDonald for Amsterdam please report to gate number 24 immediately, as the flight is now closing." Anne and Barbara enter, Anne smartly dressed as for a business meeting and carrying a briefcase, Barbara casual but with a laptop computer. They choose seats, then Anne stands briefly to peer at the departures screen on the "fourth wall."
ANNE Thirty minutes' delay. Could be worse.
BARBARA At least it's a relief to get rid of the luggage.
ANNE Why on earth do you bring so much? It's only a three-day meeting.
BARBARA Yes, but you never know what sort of occasions will arise.
ANNE Somehow I don't foresee much in the way of glamorous evening entertainment.
BARBARA I don't want to miss out if there is any going. And in any case I don't want to turn up in a suit that looks as though I've been sleeping in it.
ANNE Choose the right suit, and it won't - even if you have.
BARBARA Well, I'm not the one who always nods off after lunch.
ANNE Always? Come off it. Once or twice, perhaps - after a heavy night.
BARBARA I don't think you realise how often it is.
ANNE Then for goodness' sake give me a prod any time you see me napping. It could be seriously embarrassing.
BARBARA (teasing) I shall, don't worry.
ANNE Anyway, to get back to the point, I don't like to be parted from anything I'll need at the meeting - I'd stick to hand baggage alone if it were possible. Remember that time in Vienna when the man from Brazil apologised for turning up looking like a lumberjack because his luggage had gone on a world tour and never caught up with him.
BARBARA That was exceptional. I've never had anything go astray.
ANNE Talk about tempting Providence! Remember the story Bill told us on Wednesday.
BARBARA I missed that. What was it?
ANNE Well, he was behind a particularly cantankerous customer at the check-in, giving the clerk hell. When his turn came he asked the girl where this character was going. "Trinidad - but his luggage is going to Tokyo."
BARBARA I wouldn't say I was particularly cantankerous.
ANNE Far from it. But accidents do happen. I've been lucky - the only time my luggage was missing it had been put on the next flight to the same destination. You can't count on that.
The Tannoy again announces, more emphatically, "Will passenger MacDonald for Amsterdam please report to gate number 24 immediately, as the flight is now closing."
ANNE Why is it always passengers for Amsterdam who seem to go missing?
BARBARA I did hear of one for Brussels once.
ANNE There must be something about the Low Countries.
BARBARA (almost giggling) I get a picture of a very staid New York couple, descended from the original Dutch settlers, heading back to some dreary ancestral town, and the husband deciding at the last minute that he'd rather kick up his heels in Paris instead.
ANNE "MacDonald" doesn't sound particularly Dutch.
BARBARA Perhaps it's his wife who's the old colonial.
ANNE That's possible. And maybe the husband's preoccupied with the whisky in the Duty Free.
BARBARA That sounds a lot more likely. Oh, will you keep an eye on my things for a while? Shan't be long.
ANNE Topping up your own supplies?
BARBARA No, just a precaution.
ANNE Only teasing. Go ahead. I've a couple of calls to make.
Exit Barbara. Anne checks her diary, then takes out a mobile phone and dials.
ANNE Sid? … It's Anne. Sorry to bother you, but in the rush to prepare for this trip I forgot that Bob was away when it was arranged, and didn't think to mention it yesterday. There's a section meeting tomorrow; would you give my apologies? … Thanks. You're a brick … Oh yes? The chance would be fine thing! Cheers. (She dials again.) Hello, Mum. … Yes, no problem. Traffic was pretty bad, but we'd left plenty of time. We're in the departure lounge now … A half-hour delay so far - could be worse. How are things with you? … But you need to get out more. Don't turn down an opportunity just because - … Oh yes, he said that was a possibility. Now look, you're not to worry … Yes, of course, but they wouldn't be sending him if they thought there was any real danger. I'm sure he'll be all right … Yes, I know the situation's different now, but it hasn't hotted up yet, and by all accounts it'll be months before it could - plenty of time to get him out in case of trouble … Yes, I will. 'Bye. (Barbara returns.) That was quick.
BARBARA No queue. Oh, and I think I've solved the MacDonald mystery.
ANNE What?
BARBARA The missing passenger. A rather elderly woman dashed out just as I got there and dropped her bag on the way. I picked it up for her - that was the name on the label. (Examining a finger) Damn! I've broken a nail. And my file was confiscated at the security check.
ANNE I did warn you. (Fishing in her handbag) Here, I've an emery board.
BARBARA Thanks. (She attends to the damage and returns the board.) But what use would a three-inch nail file be to any terrorist?
ANNE Hmm. You might be surprised.
She moves behind Barbara and presses a metal-bodied pen to the back of her neck.
ANNE (speaking in an unnaturally deep voice) Can you tell what it is that I've got here?
BARBARA Don't! It gives me the creeps. What is that?
ANNE (reverting to a normal voice) Just a pen - which may not be mightier than the sword, but in this case as effective as a gun so long as you think that it is one.
BARBARA And so long as you don't need to fire it.
ANNE Of course.
BARBARA Better not tell the security people.
ANNE No, I should hate to lose this. It's rather special.
BARBARA I'm surprised you risk it, then.
ANNE A mistake. I forgot it was in this bag. And to be honest I never thought of pretending it was anything else until now.
BARBARA May I see?
ANNE Certainly. (She passes it over.)
BARBARA What an odd shape.
ANNE Apparently it represents a Japanese nuclear fuel element - in miniature, naturally, though the button at the top is supposed to be the same size as one of the actual pellets. It was given to Dad when he retired. I kept it after …
She breaks off in a sudden and uncharacteristic moment of emotion.
BARBARA (after a moment of anxiety while Anne recovers) Yes, I can see why it's precious.
ANNE Sorry about that. It doesn't usually take me so hard.
BARBARA Nothing to be sorry for. It's perfectly natural. I'd be more worried if it didn't hurt. You were pretty close to him, weren't you?
ANNE Yes. Best pals, and all that. I still think occasionally, "I must tell Dad about that - he'd love it" - but I can't.
BARBARA Perhaps you should save it up for when you meet again.
ANNE Do you believe we do?
BARBARA Plenty of people I respect think so.
ANNE Not quite the same thing. To me, it somehow seems too much like wishful thinking.
BARBARA Yes, but wanting something to be true doesn't necessarily make it false.
ANNE I suppose not. Oh, this won't do at all. I'm getting thoroughly maudlin. (A moment's pause) Barbara -
BARBARA What?
ANNE You had some connection who was involved with UN weapon inspection, didn't you?
BARBARA Yes, an umpteenth cousin so many times removed - I never could work out the exact relationship.
ANNE How did you meet, then?
BARBARA We just happened to be fairly close neighbours, and his son dated me occasionally in a rather platonic way. Nice lad; I did wonder sometimes … But he went off to a job half way across the country, and met someone else. What of it?
ANNE Did he ever say anything about how dangerous the job was?
BARBARA Why on earth do you ask?
ANNE I just phoned Mum. She's worried because Uncle Jim is being sent to Iraq in the new round of inspections.
BARBARA O lucky Jim. I can't say I particularly envy him. But I think you could safely tell your mother not to worry.
ANNE I did, but I doubt if it helped. She's no fool, and after all, what do I know about it?
BARBARA Well, Jack said he got on fine with the people he actually dealt with. The ordinary folk there are just as decent and reasonable as anywhere else - more so than in some places he's been, a lot nearer home. His contacts apparently regarded the job as one where they were all more or less colleagues together.
ANNE I don't think that's quite what Mum's worried about. The high-ups aren't likely to take the same view. What happens if the military decide to use the inspectors as hostages?
BARBARA These days, that could happen to anyone, anywhere.
ANNE In our present circumstances, that isn't very reassuring. I don't think Mum would altogether appreciate it.
BARBARA Probably not. (After short pause.) Eureka!
ANNE What is it?
BARBARA I've just thought of how to finish that third presentation I was worried about.
ANNE Then get it down before you forget.
BARBARA Yes, I'd better.
She opens and starts her computer, waits for the opening sequence to finish, then selects her program and starts to type.
ANNE Fancy a coffee?
BARBARA That'd be nice - thanks.
Exit Anne. Barbara continues to type, with occasional pauses for thought, amendments to work already done, etc. Anne returns with two cups of coffee, handing one to Barbara. Suddenly she sneezes, and slops her own drink, splashing her suit. She fumbles in her bag for a tissue to mop up the mess.
ANNE Damn!
BARBARA Will it stain?
ANNE I'm not sure. I'd better see if I can clean it up. What a pest!
BARBARA Well, I hate to say it, but now you see why I don't wear a business suit for travelling.
CURTAIN
**********
CRASH
Characters
Julie Late teens, emotionally volatile, rather naïve.
Karen About the same age but calmer and more mature.
Set:
An ordinary kitchen
with a table and two chairs.
Time
The present.
*****
Opening
Julie is asleep, rather dishevelled, at the table. Karen enters very quietly.
KAREN Julie?
JULIE Uh? (Struggling awake) Karen! You startled me.
KAREN Sorry. The door was ajar so I just came in.
JULIE Was it? But I'm glad you did. I don't usually nod off like that.
KAREN Well, it was a late night. Though you left before I did. First time I've known you to!
JULIE Yes, I thought I'd told everyone. I had to go to Dad's leaving party.
KAREN Must have been when I was getting a round. Any good?
JULIE Not really my scene. Might have been better if Joe had come with me. But I'd promised - had to show willing.
KAREN From the state you're in this morning, I'd say very willing.
JULIE People kept pressing drinks on me, and I couldn't very well offend them by refusing every time.
KAREN You could have asked for a Coke or something.
JULIE Not when they'd actually thrust a glass into my hand.
KAREN Did Joe say why he wasn't coming?
JULIE No need. He's never got on with Dad. And Dad has no time for him at all - calls him a spoilt brat, a waster.
KAREN To his face?
JULIE No, of course not. But he's never made much effort to be more than barely civil.
KAREN I sometimes think your father is too straightforward for his own good.
JULIE Funny, that's exactly what Mum says.
KAREN What does she think of Joe?
JULIE She rather likes him. He does go out of his way to be specially charming with her.
KAREN Yes, he can turn it on when he wants, can't he? Anyway, what time did you eventually get in?
JULIE Must have been about two. Then I couldn't get to sleep for ages. I can't have had more than a couple of hours before Mum and Dad went out and the door slamming woke me up.
KAREN What time was that?
JULIE About eight. They had to go and make some arrangements about the move.
KAREN How come the door was open, then?
JULIE I had to get in some supplies. And I thought the walk might clear my head a bit. But I must still have been really dopey to leave the door like that. Though I was loaded up a bit when I came in, and then something on the radio drove everything else out of my mind.
KAREN What was that?
JULIE The crash on your street last night.
KAREN Yes, it was bad - a real mess.
JULIE What actually happened? The report was a bit vague.
KAREN Some maniac jumped the lights - looked as though the cops were after him - when traffic was coming across too fast to avoid him. Then a truck driver tried to dodge the pile-up, skidded and ploughed into the bar over the way.
JULIE Nasty.
KAREN They're still arguing over whether they can pull the wreck out without bringing half the building down. Probably have to prop it up first.
JULIE At least that's only property. The report said dozens of people were hurt, some of them quite badly, and seven or eight killed outright.
KAREN Yes, there was a party just coming out of the bar at the time. You don't win an argument with a thirty-ton truck. And the people in the cars didn't stand a chance.
JULIE That's the third crash at that junction this year. I'm beginning to think Dad's right moving out of the area. You never know who's going to be next.
KAREN That isn't the reason, is it?
JULIE No, not really. He's been after a promotion for years. And there's no chance of getting it here.
KAREN So Joe said. That's why he was planning to leave, too.
JULIE (affronted) He never told me.
KAREN Must have slipped his mind.
JULIE (getting suspicious) You don't let a thing like that just slip your mind. How long have you known?
KAREN About a month, I suppose.
JULIE No one else has mentioned it.
KAREN I think he was hoping to keep it quiet. There were some loose ends that might have been a bit awkward to tie up.
JULIE (simmering) Loose ends, eh? And I suppose I was one of them.
KAREN Now Julie, don't get upset. I'm sure he'd have got round to telling you before he went.
JULIE But he told you a month ago. That seems to say something about his priorities.
KAREN He probably thought he'd told you already.
JULIE Oh, no. You don't get a way with that one. If he'd told me he wouldn't have had any doubt about it. I'd have seen to that.
KAREN For goodness' sake calm down. You're getting a bit illogical.
JULIE (furious) Don't expect me to be logical! Not about a two-timing rat like that. And I thought you were supposed to be my friend!
KAREN Two-timing? Honestly, Julie, it wasn't like that at all. We just had an occasional bit of fun together.
JULIE (bitterly) Yes, I know about his "bits of fun." They're not so funny when the chickens come home to roost. All right for him, I suppose. He can just walk away from his responsibilities.
KAREN Responsibilities?
JULIE (subdued) Yes.
KAREN Oh, so that's it, is it?
JULIE Mum'll be furious. And Dad will hit the roof. He's always going on about teenage promiscuity. As if everyone wasn't doing it these days.
KAREN Well, not everyone. Not by a long chalk.
JULIE (sarcastic) So I suppose you're strictly virginal?
KAREN As it happens, yes.
JULIE And you can afford to sneer at the "fallen woman."
KAREN (conciliatory) Julie, who's sneering? No one talks about fallen women these days. I know as well as you do what the pressures are - inside and out. They're agonising at times.
JULIE But you've resisted.
KAREN Let's say I've been lucky. Opportunity and real inclination never coincided.
JULIE You call that luck?
KAREN On the whole, yes. In my saner moments. Though there's a nagging wonder about what I'm missing.
JULIE A hell of a problem, for a start.
KAREN You wouldn't consider …
JULIE No, I wouldn't. I know Mum and Dad. As it is, they'll explode at first, but they'll soon come round. Do everything they can to help. Not if I got rid of it. "Abortion is murder," and all that. I couldn't do that to them. But I'm certainly going to give Joe a piece of my mind.
KAREN I'm afraid you may have a bit of a problem there.
JULIE Why, he hasn't left town already, has he?
KAREN It's more difficult than that. You may find it hard to take.
JULIE Oh, stop being so mysterious, and come out with it!
KAREN All right. You see, Joe gave me a lift home last night.
JULIE Another of his "bits of fun," I suppose.
KAREN No, it wasn't like that at all. He was actually rather worried about leaving you behind - wondering how you'd take it, saying how much he'd miss you, that he'd be lucky to find anyone half so nice …
JULIE For goodness' sake cut the flannel, and get to the point.
KAREN So perhaps his reactions were a bit slower than they might have been. He couldn't stop in time to avoid the crash. Then two other cars piled in behind, and the skidding truck crushed the lot.
JULIE But the report said that everyone in the cars had been killed.
KAREN That's right. We were. Both of us.
JULIE You mean …?
KAREN I'm afraid I told you a little fib before - wanted to break the news gently. Your door was firmly locked. I came through anyway.
Julie gives a little moan, and subsides into the position in which she was first seen.
KAREN (tenderly) Goodbye, Julie.
Exit silently.
CURTAIN
**********
INN MEMORY
Characters
Anne A vigorous, no-nonsense country girl
Beth Her more delicate friend and fellow-student from the city
Set
A hillside overlooking a rural valley
Time
The present
*****
Opening
Anne enters briskly, looks behind, and calls to an unseen companion.
ANNE Come on!
BETH (Off) Give me a chance! I don't spend all the year tramping the mountains like you.
ANNE Call that a mountain? Barely a molehill. But you can take a rest here.
BETH (Entering wearily and finding a place to sit) Phew! Thank goodness!
ANNE There! How's that for a view?
BETH Let me get my breath back before I start admiring the scenery.
ANNE You really ought to take more exercise. Get yourself into condition.
BETH Don't you start. I hear enough of it from Dad.
ANNE Not enough to get you out of the armchair, by the sound of it. The trouble is, you don't appreciate the countryside.
BETH You've seen where I live. Not much countryside there.
ANNE But you're not a million miles from it.
BETH Look, by the time I've got in and finished the chores, there isn't much time for joyrides, let alone serious excursions. If I have half an hour to flop in front of the telly, that's all there is. Now can we change the subject, please?
ANNE All right. Just take a look around. It's a place I love to come to on a fine evening. There's something particular about the light at that time of day - especially when the sun breaks through after a storm.
BETH Now don't wish that on us. (Startled) Good lord!
ANNE What's the matter? You look as though you'd seen a ghost. You'd better stretch out for a while.
BETH Don't fuss. I'll be quite all right in a minute or two.
ANNE Whatever is it?
BETH Just a bit of shock. Something about that valley really hit me.
ANNE What are you talking about?
BETH You didn't bring me here last year, did you?
ANNE No. I was going to, but you had to rush off when your mother was taken ill.
BETH But I had an extraordinary feeling of knowing the place, and being somehow threatened by it.
ANNE Well, I can't see anything in the least threatening about it.
BETH (Pointing) That building over there backing on to the hillside – isn't it an inn?
ANNE Yes, as it happens. What of it?
BETH The Travellers' Rest?
ANNE Yes.
BETH Well, there you are, then.
ANNE It's a common enough name - doesn't necessarily signify anything.
BETH Have you been inside?
ANNE Yes, a few times. My grandparents had their ruby wedding party there not so long ago.
BETH As you go in, is the reception desk on the left?
ANNE Yes, but again, there's nothing special about that.
BETH And on the right, a fireplace with a copper hood?
ANNE (Beginning to show interest) Actually I think there is.
BETH And on the mantel a model of a square-rigged ship, about fifteen inches long?
ANNE Er …
BETH And then a corridor through to the back of the building, with an unmarked door at the end, and the dining room and what not off to the right? And that door opening on to a flight of stairs?
ANNE I don't know about the stairs. But you certainly turn right into the public rooms.
BETH I seem to remember that the stairs led to a tunnel into the hill.
ANNE Remember? You mean you've been there some time?
BETH It seems so. But I can't think how or when it could have been.
ANNE Well, if you knew about the tunnel, your uneasiness might have been just a touch of claustrophobia.
BETH I don't get that. And in any case, if you didn't bring me here, how could I have known about it?
ANNE Description in a travel book?
BETH Not very likely. I'd never heard of this area before I met you. And the memory's visual.
ANNE Then you must have dreamed it.
BETH Do you know, I think that may be it.
ANNE Oh?
BETH Yes. Remember the end of last year, when I'd been ill and was so worried about the exams?
ANNE I'm not likely to forget it. You were getting so depressed you had me really worried. And that was when Freda started talking about suicide.
BETH Just talk – and people who talk about it never do it, or so Dad says.
ANNE She didn't come back the next term.
BETH No, but that was because during the vacation she met some chap rich enough and daft enough to support her in the manner she fancied becoming accustomed to, and she didn't see any point in finishing the course.
ANNE Silly girl!
BETH So I told her, but it didn't do any good. She was always a featherbrain.
ANNE Let's hope her boy friend likes feathers.
BETH He was no better himself, by all accounts. But that's all by the way. That last term, I kept having a recurring nightmare. I was starting a journey from a town I knew well, but under some vague threat, then taking roads that were less and less familiar for hundreds of miles, until I came to a narrow valley bathed in evening sunshine, where I knew I'd been years before. A farmer mowing a hay field; cattle grazing in a meadow; a curl of smoke rising from the farmhouse chimney …
ANNE Doesn't sound like a nightmare. Quite an idyllic scene, in fact.
BETH Yes, but that's what made it all the more terrible. The same sense of danger was getting stronger, but I couldn't put my finger on any particular reason. Then I came to that inn – or one that might have been its twin – and the feeling intensified even more. Although everything seemed utterly peaceful, I knew that something horrendous was getting very near and I desperately didn't want to meet it. And the only way to escape it was through that tunnel.
ANNE Brrrr! Scary. What was the something?
BETH I never knew. And no one could tell me where the tunnel led, so I dithered about taking it.
ANNE So what did you do?
BETH Sometimes I'd go into the tunnel, sometimes I'd force myself to face whatever it was that was coming. But usually I woke up about then.
ANNE Are you still having them?
BETH Not so often. But every now and again it comes back, usually after something's reminded me of it. I'll probably have it again tonight.
ANNE I hope you didn't tell your uncle Bill about it.
BETH Why not?
ANNE From my impression of him, he'd be sure to say you should see a shrink about it.
BETH We don't have that sort of money, just to be told I'd been afraid of leaving the womb or something of the sort.
ANNE I suppose not. And Mum says anyone would have to be mad to see a psychiatrist when simply talking to someone with a bit of common sense would do far more good.
BETH Someone like her, you mean?
ANNE Well, perhaps. Actually, it wouldn't do any harm to mention it to her. I remember once …
BETH Yes?
ANNE It was a long time ago and a bit vague now. But for several months I kept having dreams about being in some high place and likely to fall off - a railway bridge with a train coming, or a tower with a crumbling parapet - that kind of thing. Every time I'd half-wake in the middle of it, realise I was having a nightmare, and struggle to get out of it, but invariably I'd drift back in.
BETH Well?
ANNE Mum suggested that during the interlude, I should equip myself with whatever was needed to deal with the dream situation. So the next time I found myself on that bridge, I made sure of having a parachute for the drop.
BETH Lucky you happened to have one handy in the middle of the night.
ANNE Clot! Just mentally, of course.
BETH Did it work?
ANNE Well, I've never had a nightmare since - that, or any other.
BETH What started them off, do you think?
ANNE I dunno. I could have understood it if it had been about ghosts or ghouls or what have you -
BETH Why?
ANNE Well, there'd been a film crew here making some horror movie. They shot part of it in this valley - the peaceful façade of country life, I suppose, with all the sinister stuff going on behind it.
BETH (Sharply) When was that?
ANNE About six or seven years ago, I suppose. Why the sudden interest?
BETH That's it! I saw that film.
ANNE So …?
BETH That inn must have been used for some of the scenes. That's how I knew about it. And why I associated it with the horrors.
ANNE Right. There's only one way to get rid of those.
BETH Oh, what's that?
ANNE A bar lunch there. They do a pretty good one - and as it's for your benefit, you can pay for it! Come on!
Exeunt
CURTAIN
**********
GOOD INTENTIONS
Characters
Nick Sardonic and amoral, though not wholly unsympathetic; didactic in manner.
George Genial, personable, well-meaning but weak-willed.
Milly Emotionally volatile and a little scatty; fairly young, preferably pretty.
Mary Sensible, down-to-earth; affectionate without being at all sugary; a strong character on the quiet; similar in age to George.
Vicar An earnest, forthright, organising type.
Joan Fortyish; twittery but with predatory aspirations.
Set
Basically curtains, with entrances DR, UR and UL. A tall stool or (better) a high-backed swivel chair down right is occupied by Nick; other characters may use the rest of the stage, but light spill between the two areas must be as little as possible. In the general area are a settee and one or two tables according to available space. One of the two tables, or a part of the only one, serves as an office desk, with telephone and desk diary, and a suitable chair: the other doubles as breakfast/committee table, with three dining-type chairs.
Time
Late 20th century.
*****
Opening
After the opening speech, Nick is mostly a silent observer, but on stage throughout.
Milly appears only in the first half, Joan and the Vicar only in the second. At a pinch, provided the appearance of very different ages could be maintained, the parts of Milly and Joan might be doubled.
With some obvious exceptions, Nick's remarks are addressed exclusively to the audience, and the other characters are generally unaware of his presence. When not actually speaking, he watches the action, but unless otherwise specified, some light should remain on him.
The curtain opens to reveal Nick's perch lit, the rest dark. Nick enters slowly, absorbed in a newspaper. Still reading, he sits, facing front; reaches the end of a passage, turns a page, and looking up at the next, notices the audience.
NICK Oh, hello, didn't see you out there. Phew, what a day. (Indicating the paper) Usual load of misery here, of course. "Strike threat by 5,000" - "Tension mounts in Middle East" - "Violent crime up 20%" - "Double murder in Belfast" - what's new about that? - "Fire in north-west kills six" - "Thousands starving in Tibesti drought". Dear oh dear, what a mess. Mind you, things are never so bad that well-meaning busybodies can't make them worse. That business in the Middle East, for instance; if Balfour and Kissinger and Lawrence of Arabia had kept their ruddy noses out of it, the Turks and Jews and Arabs could have settled their own differences one way or another, and no one else need have been involved at all. As it is, everyone's got a finger in the pie, and it's all but impossible to sort out.
And then, just think of a place like Tibesti. It's been tottering on for centuries, hardly an economic miracle I grant you, but managing more or less to get by. Then the UN has to stick its oar in, cleans things up here and there, halves the infant mortality and surprise! surprise! the population takes off like a rocket and there's a famine. And as if the do-gooders hadn't done enough damage already, there's a great hoo-ha about how many are dying, everyone scrambles to get food into the country, so the next time the rains fail, it's not just 10,000 but 20,000 people starving. I ask you!
Turning another page.
"Divorces up again." At this rate they'll soon be issuing marriage certificates with tear-off slips to apply for cancellation. "Bishops deplore broken homes." Ha! That'd be a lot more impressive if they'd stuck to what they're supposed to believe about marriage - but no, they had to fiddle the rules to get round one problem, and as usual made another a damn sight worse. In any case, if people can't keep their promises they'd do better to forget about them altogether - it's the shilly-shallying around in between that causes the real trouble. (Folding the newspaper) For instance, take my old friend George Anderson - not his real name, of course - come to think of it, "friend" is probably pitching it a bit high, too - but anyway, take George. Ordinary sort of chap; got quite a good job in the local branch of his firm; married - oh, I forget how many years - nice woman, intelligent too - actually he's rather fond of her, but - and here's the point - he has an incurably roving eye, and a secretary who doesn't mind its lighting on her. Not a terribly good secretary, as it happens...
Light on Nick dims; fade up on office desk. George enters UR, carrying briefcase.
GEORGE Morning, Milly.
MILLY (Entering brightly UL) Good morning, Mr. Anderson.
GEORGE How's my little ray of sunshine this morning?
MILLY (Pertly) Very well, thank you.
GEORGE Good. You're looking particularly delectable - new hair-do? (Looks at watch) Mm, I'm rather late - got held up in Accounts. What's on the agenda today?
MILLY Er, Special Projects Committee eleven o'clock - the rep from Braithwaites at two - nothing else in particular.
GEORGE That wretched committee! "Nothing in particular" is just about what it's good for - dither, dither, dither over everything. It's only an excuse to save Hutchins from having to make up his mind. I doubt if we'd have had anything new in the past ten years if Turner and perhaps one or two others hadn't simply gone ahead under their own steam - not that they get any thanks for it, of course - just an occasional rocket for "unauthorised use of resources." Sorry, Milly - I shouldn't bother you with all that - even when it makes me boil. Are those papers ready for the quarterly report?
MILLY Nearly; I'll have them done in about five minutes.
GEORGE Good. Bring them in as soon as you can, will you?
MILLY Yes. Oh, I nearly forgot - Mr. Atkins was trying to get you first thing - will you please ring him back when it's convenient?
GEORGE Knowing him, that means immediately or sooner. I wonder what he wants this time. Will you see if he's available?
Exit Milly. George unloads his briefcase, arranges the desk, and flicks through a few pages of his desk diary. The phone rings.
GEORGE Hello, Jim - I gather you wanted to speak to me... Yes, I know - it's always important... Extra well presented this time, eh? Any particular reason?... Oh, I see. Mind you, with his eye for intrigue, he'd read hidden meanings into the weather forecast... All right, we'll take special care... What's that? First I've heard of it. (Checking the diary.) No, there's nothing in the diary about it: are you sure?... All right, keep your hair on, only asking: but when's it to be?... TONIGHT!!! Hell, that's torn it - what time?... Seven thirty for eight - I see... I suppose so - but it won't go down too well at home... Oh no; she's very understanding, really... (with mock indignation) Jim, what a thoroughly disgraceful suggestion!... Milly? No, of course I don't know: if you'll hang on a minute I'll ask her. Milly!
MILLY (entering and putting papers on the desk) Yes, Mr. Anderson?
GEORGE Mr. Atkins tells me he left a message with you about one of Mr. Penrose's staff get-togethers this evening.
MILLY Oh yes, that was last Wednesday when you were in Wakefield. Didn't I put it in the diary?
GEORGE No, you did not, and you didn't say a dicky-bird about it on Thursday, either. (Milly looks crestfallen) Oh, never mind about that now: the point is, are you going to it?
MILLY Do I have to?
GEORGE It's "purely voluntary," which means that if you're suddenly whipped into hospital with a broken leg, ruptured appendix and Lassa fever, an apology will be accepted. I take it you're going?
MILLY I suppose so.
GEORGE All right, Jim. It's yes for both of us. Good job you checked. You'll be there yourself?... Right, see you tonight; cheerio. (Replacing the phone) Well, Milly, that was a bit embarrassing - never mind, we'll get over it. Better tell Mary, though: will you ring home for me?
Exit Milly: George mutters to himself.
Only hope she's in - now was that coffee morning today or tomorrow? And didn't she have a hair appointment? (The phone rings.) Oh, hello, dear; glad I caught you. Didn't interrupt anything, I hope?... I'm sorry, but something's just come up... Well, in a way. Look, dear, I know it's awkward and I'm dreadfully sorry about it, but I've just been landed with one of Penrose's do's tonight, and there's no way of getting out of it... Yes, he did, last week, but Milly forgot to tell me... Yes, I know, and I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do about it... Oh, you know, one of those ghastly affairs he holds every year or so - says it's to "boost staff morale and encourage the corporate spirit," but if you ask me it boosts nothing but his own ego... Yes, he insists we all show up... No, there'll be no time to get home beforehand... Oh, about eleven, I should think... Yes, dear. 'Bye.
He replaces the phone and starts to read Milly's papers, at first abstractedly but then with closer attention and mounting agitation, marking corrections as he goes.
GEORGE Milly!
MILLY (entering) Yes, Mr. Anderson?
GEORGE Milly, I realise you didn't know about it, but these papers have to be especially well presented this time - and here are five spelling mistakes on the first page, here three spellings and half a sentence missing, here the second paragraph repeated - and so on. It won't do, Milly.
MILLY I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson.
GEORGE And now I come to think of it, there've been rather a lot of slip-ups lately. Is anything on your mind?
MILLY (in a voice beginning to break) N-no, Mr. Anderson.
GEORGE Well, I'm afraid you'll have to pull your socks up. We must keep up a certain standard - present a good image for the firm, and all that. I'd thought you could manage it, but if you can't... well, we don't want to think about that, do we? Just a minute, (rummaging in the desk) Training sent round a list of courses - I'm sure there was one on "Secretarial Skills." If you like, I could have a word with them...
MILLY (on the verge of tears) Oh... (grabbing the papers, she rushes out.)
GEORGE (subsiding in despair) Oh, Lord!
Fade out light on desk; fade up on Nick; exit George.
NICK And that's George all over; tries to do things kindly, even delivering a rocket, but makes it worse than simply putting the boot in. You know which road is paved with good intentions. Now he's worried about upsetting her, and that leads to more trouble.
Fade out completely on Nick; fade up on settee, unoccupied. Muffled noises off from a party a few rooms away. Every so often the sound rises momentarily and fades back, as an intervening door is opened and closed, indicated in the following scene by "sound up."
Sound up. Milly enters hastily, holding an empty glass, glancing over her shoulder. She throws herself miserably on to the settee, sniffing occasionally into a tissue. After a few moments, sound up, George enters by the same route.
GEORGE Ah, there you are, Milly. I wondered where you'd got to.
MILLY Oh, hello. (Sniffs.)
George sits beside her, trying ineptly to comfort her, and unconsciously getting into a more and more compromising position.
GEORGE Now, Milly, what's the matter?
MILLY Nothing. (Sniffs.)
GEORGE Come off it. You wouldn't dash out of the party like a scalded cat and sit moping by yourself for nothing. Did something happen back there?
MILLY No. (Sniffs.)
GEORGE Are you feeling ill?
MILLY No.
GEORGE Well, have you been having trouble with... (Light dawns.) Oh, is it that business this morning? (Milly nods dejectedly, sniffs.) Well, that was unfortunate, but something had to be done about it. And for goodness' sake, don't make such a tragedy of it - everyone makes mistakes from time to time - everyone has runs of mistakes from time to time - I'm sure you'll do better when you've got over this patch...
MILLY I'm doing my best!
During the following dialogue, Nick quietly approaches the other two by a route that allows him to collect, unseen by the audience, a large glass of gin-and-not-much-tonic handed to him from the wing.
GEORGE Yes, yes, I'm sure you are - I didn't mean to suggest you weren't. Maybe the job's simply too much of a strain for you. I know how hard it is to concentrate with the phone ringing all the time and what not - and maybe I'm not the easiest of people to please - I'm sure we could arrange something else for you - I mean, they're always crying out for extra help in the typing pool - (Milly bursts into tears) - Now what's the matter?
MILLY (wailing) I can't go back there! That bunch of cats! They said when you took me out of it that I'd be no good as a secretary - that you'd only chosen me because - because -
George, desperately trying to comfort her, by now has one hand holding hers and the other round her shoulder.
NICK Ah, George, there you are - been looking all over for you - (suddenly registering the situation) - Aye, aye!
GEORGE (flustered) Now don't start jumping to conclusions - I...
NICK (interrupting) George, never explain - it only makes you look guilty. What you get up to is your own business. Anyway, I'm not playing gooseberry; Penrose is asking for you.
GEORGE Damn - what does he want?
NICK No idea - better go and find out.
GEORGE Drat the man. Sorry, Milly; I'll have to go and see what's up. Excuse me.
Exit George - sound up - Nick looks at Milly, with rough sympathy fills her glass from his own, and toasts her silently. Milly looks doubtfully at her glass.
NICK Oh, it's all right; it's a fresh glass (indicating his own) - I haven't touched it yet.
He toasts her again. They drink.
MILLY Thanks. I needed that. (Awkward pause.) How's the party going?
NICK More or less as you'd expect. Bill and Stan have had too much: Ted hasn't had enough - he's off on one of his endless stories - ten quid to a brass farthing he'll forget the punch-line as usual. Norman's getting off with one of the juniors - there'll be trouble there one of these days. Everyone else is desperately trying to look cheerful, and wondering how soon they can decently slip away. What good Penrose expects to get out of these binges is beyond me.
MILLY Does he enjoy them?
NICK I shouldn't think so - not his style at all. He tries to play the convivial host, of course, but you can tell it's an act - he looks like a fish out of water, only rather less animated than you usually see on the slab. A quiet evening with his cronies would be much more in his line.
MILLY (rather surprised) Do you know him well?
NICK Not really, but I make a point of noticing people's fancies - you never know when it'll come in useful.
MILLY That doesn't sound very nice.
NICK Oh, nothing discreditable - that's far too dangerous a game. If you want to get up the ladder, you have to bolster the boss's confidence, not undermine it. It's just a matter of special interests - little harmless foibles - the sort of thing you can bring up in conversation, to save him that awful groping around for something to say that's a bit less hackneyed than the weather. If you can do that, he's left with a vague feeling of owing you a favour. And it's often useful as a diversion.
MILLY What do you mean?
NICK Well, suppose you can see the conversation heading in a direction you particularly want to avoid - like the football match that just happened to be on the last time you took sick leave - then if you can bring up something else that the other chap's bound to find more interesting, you may be able to get off the hook. Doesn't work if he's really determined to nail you, of course, but it's surprising how often you can head him off from thinking about it. For instance, take the time I was up for interview. (Perching on an arm of the settee) Smithers was the man I had to impress, and just then he had a bee in his bonnet about quality control - one of my blind spots. But I'd found out he was mad about musical history, so I worked in a bit from the Sunday paper about how Beethoven produced his best work when he couldn't hear a note of it. By the time we emerged from that little digression, Smithers had to dash off to another meeting, and everyone else was only too glad to wrap up the proceedings. (Wryly) The only trouble was, to keep in his good books, I had to mug up about all sorts of obscure composers who'd bore the pants off me if ever I had to listen to any of their stuff. Cost me nine quid for the Oxford Companion, but it paid off.
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-36 show above.)