ACT 2, SCENE 1

LOCATIONS SIGNAGE: DECEMBER 1906

MURRAY is standing at his own high desk. The assistants, including HARRY, are sitting at the Sorting Table at the Scriptorium.

Enter ESME, carrying the post.

ESME: Bonan matenon, Mr Maling. Your slips.

MALING: Dankon, Esme.

ESME: Good morning, Mr Sweatman.

SWEATMAN: What intelligence do you have from Mrs Ballard’s kitchen, Esme?

ESME: She has promised a sponge for afternoon tea.

SWEATMAN: Excellent. I think I can smell lemon, butter and caramelised sugar right now. You may proceed.

ESME: The post, Dr Murray.

MURRAY: Is it worth reading, Miss Nicoll?

ESME: I couldn’t say, sir.

MURRAY: Then I shall endeavour to cross that Rubicon myself. Now, Miss Nicoll, I need you to take some bundles of slips to Mr Horace Hart¹ at the Press. As usual, they are in the order they’ll be set in type and as usual, they are the only ones we have.

1 Printer to the University of Oxford and Controller of the University Press 1883–1915. Author of Hart’s Rules.

ESME: I will guard them with my life, Dr Murray.

MURRAY: Mind you do.

ESME: Of course.

MURRAY: And … when you get back … this … (hands her pile of slips) ‘Misbode’.

ESME: ‘Misbode’?

MURRAY: Yes. The quotation works well. Can you edit the page to make it fit?

ESME: Copyediting, sir?

MURRAY: It’s time, don’t you think?

ESME: Thank you, Dr Murray!

MURRAY: (to all) And now. Let us reaffirm our assiduous commitment – still – to the letters M and N.

ALL: The letters M and N.

ESME arrives at the press, looks around, seeking Mr Hart, fails, sits to wait in the compositing room. She looks at the bundle of slips. She tries to peek inside. We can almost see Mr Aladdin. She undoes the ribbon holding them together. They fall everywhere. ESME is distraught.

A youngish man (GARETH, early 30s at this stage) enters. He helps pick them up.

ESME: Thank you! I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have taken the ribbon off! Pure self-indulgence! I wanted to check one of the definitions to see if my version … Why do people do … the one thing that they shouldn’t?

GARETH: Except there’s no harm done, miss. The pages are numbered. You’ll be able to put them in order again.

ESME: Will I? Yes. I will. Thank you. Good. I’d say thank God but – oh!

GARETH: It’s all right. No offence. Not all of us rely on God.

ESME: Sorry. My foot has quite an acquaintance with my mouth.

GARETH: Excellent foot. Excellent mouth.

ESME: You’re very kind.

GARETH: If you’ve come from the Scriptorium, you’ll be looking for Mr Hart.

ESME: That’s right, I am. He wasn’t in his office. They said to check the compositing room. So here I am.

GARETH: He’s meeting with Mr Bradley at the Old Ashmolean. They are arguing the finer points of the word ‘numbskull’. Mr Hart should be back here shortly. He always comes through the compositing room.

ESME: Thank you. And thank you for your help just then. I can’t think of a worse disaster.

GARETH: I know. It all has to be so precise, no mistakes, or the whole house of cards falls down.

ESME: Yes. Exactly! Thank you. I’ll wait. (gestures towards the compositing room) In here. It’s the same precision. It’s kind of glorious, isn’t it?

GARETH: The intricacy of each man meticulously setting his type?

ESME: Yes.

GARETH: I think so, too. Yes. (he smiles) Excuse me.

ESME smiles, nods, watches him as he goes.