CATHERINE. As usual.
CHARLIE. Did you talk to her at all?
CATHERINE. I did nothing else.
CHARLIE. How did it go?
CATHERINE. As usual. First I got the upper hand, then she got the upper hand, only more so. In the end, I had to admit that my marriage was a failure. I should have had a fellowship and a lorry driver instead.
DAPHNE. What’s happened to Leonora?
CHARLIE. It didn’t happen to Leonora, it happened to me. I was the victim. She came down in her dressing-gown last night, stood by my chair, and asked me to give her a child. Just like that — ‘Give me a child, I want a child’. The woman’s ill.
DAPHNE. What an amazing happening! —Leonora’s so unapproachable.
CHARLIE. I didn’t approach her. She—
CATHERINE. She denied it absolutely this morning.
CHARLIE. Denied it?
CATHERINE. Absolutely.
DAPHNE. This is not a normal house.
CHARLIE. I suppose it was to be expected that she’d deny it.
DAPHNE. Could she have been walking in her sleep?
CHARLIE. I suppose it is possible.
CATHERINE. Could you have been dreaming, Charlie?
CHARLIE. I wasn’t dreaming, Catherine.
CATHERINE. She seemed just as sane as ever.
DAPHNE (at window). Here she is.
CHARLIE. What shall I say?
CATHERINE. Behave as if nothing had happened. Perhaps nothing did happen.
CHARLIE. I wasn’t dreaming, Catherine.
CATHERINE (slightly louder voice). Hallo, Leonora. Did you have a good day at the British Museum?
LEONORA. I didn’t have a day. But with what was left of the day I managed to get something done. I’m coming to the end of my book. It’s a very satisfying feeling to be coming to the end of a detailed study after two years.
DAPHNE. What’s the subject?
CATHERINE. Assyrian palaeography.
DAPHNE. Wasn’t that your subject?
CATHERINE. Yes, but it’s anyone’s subject who has the ability, and the solitude and the freedom, and the leisure and the will to study the ancient writings of the Assyrians. As you know, I’ve never had the time and the freedom and the …
DAPHNE. I wish anyone joy of Assyrian palaeography. It’s a dead end. It’s absurd. (Goes out.)
LEONORA. What’s the matter with her?
CHARLIE. Moral arrogance. She’s been insufferable since she was arrested with Bertrand Russell.
LEONORA. The more I see of her generation the happier I am that I have no children. Charlie, what was this extraordinary dream you had about me last night? Catherine reproached me bitterly this morning with making improper advances to you in the dead of the night.
CATHERINE. Leonora, I was only saying what Charlie—
CHARLIE. Leonora, I suppose it must have been in a dream. I decided it must be so the moment you came in, just now. I must have fallen asleep in my chair. And yet, it was extremely realistic. I’m sorry. It’s embarrassing. Please forget it.
CATHERINE. Charlie’s been working too hard. Charlie you know you have, that’s what I told you when—
LEONORA. I rather resent being dreamt about by a fellow scholar, let alone being accused of accosting him by his wife. Unconsciously you must both disrespect me.
CATHERINE. All right, I apologise, Leonora. (Going out.) I apologise for my existence, for having been born to accuse you of something normal like wanting a child. Charlie apologises, too … (Exit.)
CHARLIE. I apologise, Leonora.
LEONORA. I accept your apology. (Opens book.)
CHARLIE. I’m really sorry. I wish I could convey the realism. It was an interesting experience, Leonora.
LEONORA continues reading. Car draws up outside.
That’s probably Annie.
(Jumps up and goes to window. Returning and picking up newspaper.)
No, it isn’t Annie, it’s Daphne’s young man.
LEONORA reads on.
Daphne’s boy friend. Charlie’s his name.
LEONORA goes on reading.
If she marries him I’m going to insist on being called Charles to avoid confusion.
LEONORA goes on reading.
Damn fool if she marries him. He’s empty. Can’t open his mouth. He must be empty or he wouldn’t want to marry her. If she wasn’t such a fool she would see that. (Turns to crossword.) Someone’s started it.
LEONORA leans back, closes her eyes as if tired, rests head on the chair. CHARLIE closes the door, goes to the desk, looks at some correspondence, LEONORA gets up very silently and approaches CHARLIE.
LEONORA. Charlie.
CHARLIE. Oh!
LEONORA. Give me a child. I wish to conceive a child.
CHARLIE. Look Leonora, just sit over here quietly. Everything’s going to be all right. It’s just …
LEONORA. Before it’s too late, I want …
Enter MRS. S. with tray, YOUNG CHARLIE with tray, followed by DAPHNE and CATHERINE.
CATHERINE. Honestly, it’s a delightful surprise …
MRS. S. She was afraid it would be a bed-jacket …
DAPHNE Put it down here, Charlie.
LEONORA returns to her chair.
CATHERINE. Charlie, guess what Charlie brought me for my birthday! A book. A copy of Yeats’ Collected Poems.
MRS. S. We already got Yeats’ Collected Poems.
CATHERINE. Oh, but this is for my very own. The other copy is for household use… It’s awfully difficult to come by. It’s the most valued present …
MRS. S. (putting down tray and going to bookshelf). What edition is it?
CATHERINE. Oh, there’s only one edition, 1933.
MRS. S. (takes down copy of Yeats). No, there’s a later edition. Ours is the 1961 edition. 1933 edition has been superseded if I might point out. Plenty available in the secondhand bookshops now.
YOUNG CHARLIE. Sorry about the wrong edition. Not my subject.
CATHERINE. I prefer this edition.
YOUNG CHARLIE. Bottle of scent would have been better. Or even a nightdre—
MRS. S. That would a torn it, young Charlie. Mrs. D. has got a mind. You can’t dab a bit of scent on a mind but you can dab poetry on it. Stands to reason.
CATHERINE. This is really splendid, young Charlie. It isn’t on the fourth form curriculum either. Charlie, tell young Charlie how much I’ve been pining for someone to give me a book.It’s a symbol of respect.
CHARLIE. She has been pining.
CATHERINE. Charlie, what’s the matter with you? (Looks at LEONORA.) You’re not still quarrelling, are you? I thought you were going to make it up.
CHARLIE. Catherine, I’ve got to go out, I’m afraid.
MRS. S. Aren’t you going to wait for Annie?
DAPHNE. We shall have tea now, Annie or no Annie. Father, you’ve got to stay and monopolise Annie.
MRS. S. Or else Annie will monopolise young Charlie.
CATHERINE. Charlie, don’t be a bore on my official birthday. Annie will be disappointed if you aren’t here for her to flirt with. Not that I mind that about Annie. Not that. But there is something that I do mind about Annie, and if she does it again this time I’m going to put her firmly in her place.
DAPHNE. What does she do?
MRS. S. Walks about on the landing in her knickers.
CATHERINE. No, it isn’t that. I don’t mind that. It’s when she opens her mouth and starts to inform the world on a question of scholarship. She just opens her mouth and she gives forth with absolute certainty on subjects about which she doesn’t know a damn. Have you noticed it, Leonora?
LEONORA. Annie certainly does get out of her depth at times.
CATHERINE. If she does it again, Leonora, will you scream?
LEONORA. I shall try to scream. Introduce me to young Charlie, please.
MRS. S. Dr. Leonora Chase, Ph.D., early edition—Dr. Charlie Weston, Ph.D., late edition.
LEONORA. Co
me and sit over here, young Charlie. You’re doing nuclear research?
MRS. S. He won’t answer. He’s very hush-hush.
Car draws up with screech outside. Noise and bumps. Voices. Delay. Bell rings.
That’s her. (Goes out.)
More bumps.
CATHERINE. Annie always brings a lot of luggage.
MRS. S. (throws open door as ANNIE enters). Mrs. Annie Wood, non-Ph.D.! (Withdraws.)
ANNIE. Do you know, there was a marvellous lorry driver outside when I drove up. He helped me in with my luggage. Isn’t he big? He said I could call him Charlie. DAPHNE. That’s my lorry driver !
ANNIE. I think it good that young persons should learn to share. Charles. Catherine. Leonora. Heavenly to see you looking so sane and steady and solid after the mad crazy world I live in. I always boast about my learned cousins, I tell all my friends, I say ‘They are Doctors of Philosophy, every one of them. They live such dignified lives, my dears. They have stately conversations with each other. They never have to take pep-up pills or keep-calm pills. Philosophers, that’s what they are.’ It’s perfectly true, my dears, you have philosophical hearts, that’s why it’s so peaceful to come amongst you. Who is this adorable-looking young man?
CATHERINE. Daphne’s young friend, Charlie Weston. My cousin, Mrs. Wood. Charlie is a nuclear-physicist, Annie, he’s doing secret work.
ANNIE. Really? Tell me all about it.
YOUNG CHARLIE Smiles.
ANNIE (hunting in large hand-bag). He has a most eloquent smile. Where’s that … I’ve got a present for you, Catherine, but I can’t …
CATHERINE. Oh, Annie, you shouldn’t. … I hope …
ANNIE (still hunting). Come and sit beside me, Charlie, while I look for Catherine’s present.
Both CHARLIES move towards ANNIE.
CATHERINE. We make a distinction between the two Charlies, Annie, by calling them young Charlie and Charlie.
ANNIE beams at YOUNG CHARLIE, who sits beside her while CHARLIE retreats.
CATHERINE. Charlie, what’s the matter? Haven’t you made it up with Leonora? I sense something.
ANNIE. Here it is. (Hands CATHERINE parcel.) I sense something too. Leonora, I’ve advised you before. I know you’re brilliant, but if you want to keep on the right side of a man you’ve got to say nice things to him. There’s no point in just winning a learned argument, it—
CATHERINE. This looks very exciting.
ANNIE. Don’t look so worried, Catherine, it’s only a book.
CATHERINE. Marler’s Economical Cookery.
ANNIE. I thought you would obviously not have a cookery book in the house. It will be a change from your studies and all that heavy reading, Catherine. Something womanly.
CATHERINE. Thank you, Annie. (Places book aside.) Charlie —young Charlie—wouldn’t you like to go and sit beside Daphne? You don’t want to be stuck with us women old enough to be your mother.
YOUNG CHARLIE. No thanks.
DAPHNE. He’s got a mother-fixation, quite incurable.
ANNIE. Isn’t he perfectly marvellous! Now there was something I wanted to ask you, Charlie. I mean old Charlie. (Fishes in large handbag.) I’ve been so worried about an economic problem. I’ve been trying to puzzle my head, then on the way here I thought to myself ‘Of course ! Charlie’s the man. The foremost economist in the realm. Charlie will help me.’ I know I’ve got it here — here it is. (Fishes out thick bank statement.) You see, it’s my bank statement. Now Charlie, look. You see that item for four and twopence? Well, it happens on every page. Look, there’s two on a page. Now I never write a cheque for four and twopence. Whatever can it mean? I believe I’m being robbed.
CHARLIE. Those are charges for your cheque books. They cost four and twopence each.
ANNIE. Charlie, you’re brilliant. Catherine — he’s an absolutely brilliant economist. No wonder I’ve got an overdraft with the price of cheque books what it is. I—
MRS. S. looks in at the door
MRS. S. More flowers have come for Annie. (Withdraws.)
LEONORA. Something’s wrong with Daphne.
ANNIE. Is she allergic to the idea of pollen?
DAPHNE dashes out, hand to mouth, YOUNG CHARLIE follows her.
CATHERINE. It’s my fault. We had a row before lunch about a nightdress and it’s given her a stomach upset.
CHARLIE. Is that young fellow helping her to be sick in the lavatory ?
CATHERINE. I suppose so. Don’t interfere. We’ve done enough damage, Charlie.
ANNIE. What does the young man do when he’s not doing his unmentionable work?
CHARLIE. Chases after my daughter. He’s the quiet type. I wouldn’t trust him.
ANNIE. Well, if she marries him, she’ll have a marvellous life. She’ll have all the say.
CHARLIE. She can’t marry him. She’s got to get her degree and show something for my money.
LEONORA. Daphne ought to be married, she’s the marrying type. She ought to have a child.
CHARLIE jumps up.
CATHERINE. Instead of going on marches.
ANNIE. What’s the matter, Charlie?
CHARLIE (sitting down). What did you say, Leonora?
LEONORA. Daphne ought to get married and have children.
CHARLIE. I thought you said a child.
LEONORA. Well, yes, for a start.
CHARLIE. I don’t think you’re well, Leonora.
CATHERINE. Charlie, be reasonable.
ANNIE. Charlie, you look as if you’ve had a frightfully bad dream.
CATHERINE. Charlie did have a curious dream last night, Annie.
CHARLIE. It wasn’t a dream.
CATHERINE. Charlie, you agreed before lunch that it was. You apologised to Leonora.
CHARLIE. I know I did. (Goes out.)
ANNIE. Was Leonora in the dream?
LEONORA. Apparently. It was a frightfully bad one.
ANNIE. Then it is you who should apologise to Charlie, Leonora. I do think if one succeeds in entering a man’s dreams one owes him a good dream. How long are you staying in London?
LEONORA. Two or three weeks. I have to go back and forward to the British Museum.
ANNIE. Haven’t you finished writing your book yet?
LEONORA. What book?
ANNIE. I forget what it was called, it was a long name. Wasn’t it entitled ‘The Ancient Assyrians, Intimate Revelations’?
LEONORA. How do you know about my book on the Assyrians?
ANNIE. Mrs. S. told me about it a couple of years ago, when you started it.
LEONORA. How did Mrs. S. know? I’m keeping it secret.
CATHERINE. Mrs. S. knows everything. I didn’t know till today.
LEONORA. Catherine, I object to Mrs. S. prying among my papers.
CATHERINE. She pries into our papers. There isn’t a thing we can do about it. In any case, the subject is not exclusive to any one scholar. As you know.
ANNIE. I think it awfully sad that you scholars have to spend years and years on research, and then find that all your theories are blown to hell by some new discovery. I’m awfully sorry about these new finds in Mesopotamia, Leonora. Two years hard labour wasted!
LEONORA. Which new finds? What are you talking about?
CATHERINE. Oh come, Annie, now you really are out of your depths. Even I see the quarterly journals, you know.
ANNIE. I’ve read about it somewhere. Now where was it? I know for a fact that it blows all your theories to hell. I’m sorry, Leonora, but you’ll have to begin again, right from scratch.
LEONORA. I think I would have heard of any sensational discoveries of that nature, Annie. As a matter of fact there are no excavations in progress at the moment, they hope to resume in—
ANNIE. I know where I saw it! It was in the Late Night Final. (Fishes in hand-bag.) Where’s that paper? Here it is! Now just a minute till I find. … Oh yes, now listen to this: ‘Sensational finds on Ancient Site: New Babylonian Writings. A young shepherd boy at Kish near the anc
ient site of Babylon on Tuesday narrowly escaped death by a falling boulder, and after his leap to safety noticed in the cavity revealed by the dislodged stone a number of stone tablets. Later investigation has proved that these tablets, inscribed in cuneiform characters, date back to the 5th century B.C., and apparently were the family records of a wealthy steward under Nebuchadnezzar, ranging in subject matter from the morning prayers of the household to the cost of eyepaint for concubines. “Even at a glance it is obvious that these finds are going to affect all our previous conceptions of dates, writings, customs, symbolism and religious observances of the Babylonians,” said Professor G. Smart Dwight, the American Assyriologist, who—’
LEONORA. Dwight!
ANNIE. Dwight. ‘… who flew here today. Professor Dwight added, “all our previous work on Assyrian pal … pal …’
CATHERINE. Palaeography.
ANNIE. ‘ “will have to be completely revised. We shall have to start again from scratch.” Professor Locking of Oxford University, who has—’
CATHERINE. Locking!
ANNIE. Locking. ‘… of Oxford University, who has also flown to the site, confirmed this and added, “This is in the nature of a revelation. It— ” ’
LEONORA. Let me see it.
CATHERINE. Let me have a look.
ANNIE. You can see it all for yourself, Leonora, in black and white. You see it blows all your theories to hell.
LEONORA reads while CATHERINE looks over her shoulder.
CATHERINE. It seems there will have to be some slight rethinking, Annie.
ANNIE. Slight re-thinking, my eye. It blows—
CATHERINE. How does it seem to you, Leonora?
LEONORA. It’s exciting.
ANNIE. What do you mean, it’s exciting. I blow all your theories to hell and you say it’s exciting. Two years’ work.
LEONORA. That doesn’t matter, Annie. Forty years wouldn’t matter. What matter are the new discoveries.
CATHERINE. There is a scholar’s point of view, Annie, which you will never share. But we are obliged for your interesting snippet of information.
ANNIE. Well, at least I’ve saved Leonora another day or two’s fruitless work. She’s looking pale.