Priestley Plays Four (21 page)

NURSE: Don’t let it then, dearie. You needn’t bother your ’ead about it.

JENNY:
(Alarmed again now.)
Yes…yes… I must…and there isn’t much time. What does it matter how late it is, Sarah… I know you’re tired, but I must go through it again. ‘Make me a willow cabin at your gate. And call upon my soul within the house…’

As she sinks back, exhausted, elderly DOCTOR enters quietly R. and stands looking down at her, then looks enquiringly at NURSE. BOTH keep near foot of bed
.

NURSE:
(Whispering.)
I’m afraid she’s weakening fast, doctor. And her poor mind’s a-wandering again.

JENNY opens her eyes and smiles at DOCTOR
.

DOCTOR:
(Quietly.)
Now, Miss Villiers.

JENNY:
(Very quietly and sadly.)
I’m afraid I’ve been a great trouble to you, Doctor.

DOCTOR: No, you haven’t, Miss Villiers.

JENNY: Yes, a great trouble…where’s Nurse…has she gone?

NURSE: No, I’m still ’ere – bless yer!

JENNY:
(Faintly.)
I can’t se you…it’s dark…why is it so dark? And what’s that noise?

NURSE: Only the rain, dearie.

JENNY:
(Half sitting.)
No…listen!

There is the sound of distant applause and music far away but then coming nearer, calling ‘Overture and Beginners. Overture and Beginners.’ JENNY hears it, and with a last effort sits up, smiling
.

My call…my call…

As she sinks back exhausted, light begins to fade, but music comes up for a few moments and there is the rushing wind sound. But these die out as the light completely vanishes, and there is a moment or two of complete darkness, during which a very distant sound of a tolling bell can be heard. Then tiny light comes up on MARTIN
.

MARTIN:
(Slowly, sadly.)
So that’s how it was. But is this the end? Is there nothing left of Jenny Villiers but a name and a date, a portrait and a glove? And why the link of daughters down the years to me? There’s nothing left.
(As if a thought strikes him, calling.)
Kettle! Walter Kettle!

Light goes off MARTIN and comes up on R. alcove. This now represents a corner of the Prop. Room. It is a bizarre little scene, with bits of armour, old costumes, and one or two grotesque old pantomime heads hanging up behind. Small table with chair behind. Bottle of gin, a couple of glasses, and two large candles burning. The light should be fairly strong in centre of scene with strong shadows and shadowy edges. KETTLE, looking as before, is sitting, brooding, and drinking. After a moment or two, LUDLOW enters
.

LUDLOW:
(Sympathetically.)
Walter, me boy – we all know how you feel. We all feel the same.

KETTLE:
(In despair.)
No, you don’t. Have you ever felt a rusty saw-edged dagger in your heart?

LUDLOW: She’s gone, Walter – and wild words and strong liquor won’t bring her back.

KETTLE: The words aren’t wild – to me. And the liquor might smooth the edge of the dagger – though it hasn’t done so far –

LUDLOW: I depend on you Walter. This Theatre depends on you –

KETTLE: Then you and this Theatre must learn to look after yourselves. I’ve finished here – I hate every stick and stone of it now she’s gone.
(Helps himself to another drink, gulping it down.)

LUDLOW: Times are hard and won’t be easier without Jenny –

KETTLE:
(Angrily.)
She isn’t in her grave yet – but you can talk of her as if she was only a name on the bill –

LUDLOW:
(Ignoring this outbreak.)
I say, times are hard – but I might consider a substantial increase in salary for you, Walter –

KETTLE: Salary be damned – and you and your Theatre with it! I’m not even staying in this country, man.

LUDLOW:
(Surprised.)
Why – where could you go?

KETTLE:
(Sullenly.)
I’ve a cousin in Australia – New South Wales – who’s written more than once he’d pay my passage out there if I’d join him.

LUDLOW: Australia? But they’ve no theatre there yet –

KETTLE: So much the better. All the Theatre that I want is lying in a coffin –

There is a voice off, calling ‘Mr. Ludlow’, and LUDLOW goes off. KETTLE takes another drink shudderingly, then buries his head in his hands. LUDLOW returns
.

LUDLOW:
(Quietly.)
Someone wants to see you, Walter.

KETTLE:
(Not raising his head.)
Tell ’em to go away.

LUDLOW: It’s the nurse that looked after Jenny –

KETTLE looks up, enquiringly
.

She won’t talk to anybody but you – and she is very persistent and urgent about it.

KETTLE: If she’s come to torture me with any death-bed scenes, I’ll wring her fat neck.

LUDLOW:
(Quietly.)
But you’d better find out what she wants, Walter.

He goes out and then the NURSE enters, a fat shapeless figure, who looks curiously at him. Her manner is both unctuous and mysterious
.

NURSE: Mr. Kettle, I’m Mrs. Parsons, you remember, the nurse that looked after our poor dear –

KETTLE:
(Cutting in, harshly.)
Yes, yes, I know. What is it?

NURSE: You’re takin’ it ’ard, aren’t you, Mr. Kettle? An’ I’m not surprised, ’cos I said all doing ‘It’s that poor Mr. Kettle that loves ’er an’ the one she ought to ’ave ’ad –’

KETTLE:
(Starting up, cutting in.)
For God’s sake, woman! Any more of that and I’ll –
(Breaks off.)
No, no. Forgive me. But I can’t endure that sort of talk now. If there’s something you think I ought to know, then tell me what it is – and then leave me alone.

NURSE: Yes, I ’ave. Very special – an’ only for your ears as I told ’em out there.

KETTLE: Sit down then. And have a drink – gin.

NURSE:
(Sitting down.)
Just a nip – ’cos o’ the kind o’ nasty weather we’re ’aving, Mr. Kettle.

He sits and pours out two drinks. She takes hers
.

Your ’ealth!
(Drinks, and then is more confidential.)
It’s all on account o’ the baby, – ’er’s, y’know, Mr. Kettle –

KETTLE:
(Seriously attending now.)
I though the child died –

NURSE: Looked as if it was going to – proper touch-an’-go – an’ she couldn’t ’ave it, of course – an’ then ’er mind wandered at the last. It’s been with my sister these last three days – an’ now the doctor says it’s perking up fast – a bonny little girl it is – and’ll take after ’er mother, I’d say – same colourin’, I’ll be bound. But now the question is – what’s to become of it? Workhouse?

KETTLE:
(Aghast.)
Workhouse! Good God – never!

NURSE: Well, I can’t keep it – an’ my sister can’t afford to – only doin’ it now to oblige –

KETTLE: Wait a minute!
(He thinks.)
Suppose you had to take a baby a long way by sea – to Australia, we’ll say – what would be the best age for it to go?

NURSE:
(Giving it some thought.)
Well, that’s a question, Mr. Kettle. Some ’ud say one thing, an’ some another. But I’d say – if there was proper milk arrangements, like I ’ear tell there is sometimes – then I’d say round about six months old –

KETTLE: Where does your sister live?

NURSE: Mrs. Grott, she is – at Number Four, Canal Terrace –

LUDLOW now appears on scene
.

KETTLE:
(Rising.)
Tell her I’ll see her in the morning –

NURSE:
(Rising.)
Well, Mr. Kettle, if you could –

KETTLE:
(Cutting her off sharply.)
In the morning, Mrs. Parsons. I’m sorry but Mr. Ludlow and I have some business –

NURSE: Yes, of course. Goodnight – all –

Bustles out. KETTLE looks hard at LUDLOW
.

KETTLE: I’ve changed my mind – if you’ll accept my terms. And it’s take it or leave it. No haggling.

LUDLOW: Name them, Walter.

KETTLE: Give me an extra thirty shillings a week for the next six months – and I’ll keep sober and work like a black for you and your Theatre –

LUDLOW: Another thirty shillings? It’s a lot of money –

KETTLE: Take it or leave it. I need the money – and you’ve always underpaid me.

LUDLOW: It’s a bargain then. But what happens when the six months are up?

KETTLE: Australia for me –
(Adding softly.)
and perhaps my family.

LUDLOW: Shall we drink to it?

KETTLE:
(Filling a glass for him.)
You can drink to it! But as for me – I said
sober
and I meant
sober
. Look!

He hurls the gin bottle off and we hear it crash as the lights go. Light on MARTIN
.

MARTIN:
(Musing.)
Kettle went to Australia – and took Jenny’s child with him – as his adopted daughter. And that’s all I know. There’s no Jenny – nothing left but a portrait and a glove.
(Calling urgently.)
Jenny! Jenny Villiers! Where are you?

We hear her ringing laugh. MARTIN calls gladly
.

Jenny!

Soft golden light goes on upstage C. of Green Room. SPRAG, a little middle-aged author, is ending his reading of a farce to LUDLOWS, STOKES and COMPANY, excluding KETTLE. They all wear dark clothes and sit huddled listening gloomily, except JENNY, who is dressed in white, standing near the AUTHOR, and she is gay and excited and enjoying the reading. The OTHERS, of course, are not aware of her presence. The old daguerreotype effect should be very marked in this, the final ghost scene
.

SPRAGG:
(With the over-emphasis of despair.)
Mr. Tooley: ‘No, ma’am, I have to confess that I never had a brother and if I had had a brother I wouldn’t have behaved like that to him.’ Mrs. Tooley: ‘Aunt Jemima, it was just another of Mr. Tooley’s tarradiddles.’ Comic business with parasol again – very effective.

JENNY:
(Laughing.)
Yes, I can see her. Go on, Mr. Spragg. What’s the curtain?

The COMPANY shows no reaction, so SPRAGG, after a despairing glance around, continues
.

SPRAGG: Aunt Jemima: ‘Well, me dear, I can only say thank goodness it’s you who’s married to the man and not me. But I’ll not cut you out of me will this time, ’cos I’m truly sorry for you married to such a fool.’ Mr. Tooley: ‘I deserve no better of you, ma’am, but in future I’ll remember to
tarry
before trying to
diddle
again –’

JENNY: Very neat, Mr. Spragg.

SPRAGG: Aunt Jemima: ‘Gracious – what’s that?’

JENNY:
(Genuinely interested.)
Farmer Giles again, eh?

SPRAGG: Entrance of Farmer Giles down chimney, covered with soot.
(He glances at the COMPANY.)
Very funny effect this, bang on the curtain. Mrs. Tooley: ‘Why it’s poor Farmer Giles.’ Farmer Giles: ‘Yes, and black in the face after listening to MR. TOOLEY’S TARRADIDDLES’.

Gives a great sneeze – all strike attitudes – Tableau. Curtain. End of Farce – Mr. Tooley’s Tarradiddles
.

He mops his brow: and looks in despair at the glum company
.

JENNY:
(Amused.)
I loved it, Mr. Spragg.

LUDLOW:
(Gloomily.)
Thank you, Mr. Spragg. Very funny, I’m sure.

SPRAGG:
(Exasperated.)
But – dash my buttons! – You never laughed once – not one of you –

JENNY: Oh – what a shame! Poor little man! Letting him read all that – and nobody laughed at anything but me.

FANNY:
(Gloomily.)
Tell him, Mr. Ludlow.

SPRAGG: Tell me what?

LUDLOW:
(Sadly.)
I have a confession to make, Mr. Spragg. I asked you to come and give us this reading of you new piece a week or two ago, as you know. I forgot to cancel your visit and then hadn’t the heart to tell you.

SPRAGG: Tell me what? Not closing, are you?

LUDLOW: No, no.

FANNY: We were closed last night, Mr. Spragg, because all attended the funeral of our leading female juvenile whom we all admired and loved dearly – our poor sweet Jenny Villiers –

SPRAGG:
(Dismayed.)
Oh – I say!

FANNY: And this is the first time we’ve met since we said goodbye to her for ever –

JENNY:
(Urgently.)
No, no – darling – it isn’t like that at all.

FANNY:
(Moved.)
We’re feeling it, Mr. Spragg, we’re all feeling it most deeply.

A sob or two from the ACTRESSES, nose-blowing from MEN
.

JENNY:
(Coming forward.)
No – look – it doesn’t matter a bit. Please!

Now the light begins to fade on all but JENNY and MARTIN. The voices of the OTHERS begin to fade too
.

SPRAGG: You ought to have told me, y’know. Not fair.

FANNY:
(Tearfully.)
I know we ought. But we thought you might be able to make us forget…

JENNY: There’s nothing to forget.

MARTIN: It’s no use, Jenny. You’re a ghost even to the ghosts now.

JENNY:
(To him.)
No, I’m not.

1
^ST
ACTRESS:
(In fading tone.)
And we can’t forget her…

STOKES:
(Fading tone.)
It’ll take some time yet, I’m afraid…

MOON:
(Fading tone.)
The heart’s right out of us, you might say…

JENNY:
(Protesting to them.)
No, Sam, John, Sarah, all of you. It doesn’t matter about me. Nothing’s been lost. And all that matters is – to keep the flame burning clear.

MARTIN:
(Mumuring.)
‘The best in this kind are but shadows.’

As PLAYERS fade out, still mumbling
.

JENNY: They’re going. They’re going.
(To MARTIN.)
You tell them it doesn’t matter about me – or about anybody – as long as the flame burns clear.
You
know.

MARTIN:
(Bewildered.)
How should I know?

JENNY: You did once. Tell them.

MARTIN: Too late, they’re gone. And it was all long ago.

Stage is dark now, except for small light on JENNY upstage L., and bigger light on MARTIN C.
.

JENNY:
(Whispering.)
Yes, I can see you.