A few days later. Philip, alone, laying the dinner-table for six. A knock at the door. Don enters.

Don   Hello. Am I too early?

Philip   No.

Don   I wondered if there was anything I could do to help.

Philip   No, it’s all under control. Help yourself to a drink.

Don pours himself a Scotch.

Don   For you?

Philip   No, thanks. Not just yet.

Don sits down.

Don   Where’s Celia?

Philip   In the kitchen.

Don   Are you all right?

Philip   Yes. Why?

Don   I don’t know, you seem a little morose.

Philip   I am a bit.

Don   Why? You’re not still upset about John, are you?

Philip   Well …

Don   I can’t think why. You hardly knew the man.

Philip   That doesn’t make any difference.

Don   Well, it should do. He was my friend, not yours. And I haven’t been sitting around brooding about it for days. You’re too sensitive, Philip, really. I mean, the whole thing was just a grotesque accident.

Philip   I’ve never seen anyone dead before. I’ve never seen anyone die.

Don   I don’t know, the whole evening was a complete disaster. I mean, apart from that. I only suggested we had it here because I knew I’d hate the play, and I wanted someone around who’d say something nice to him. I don’t know why he got so ratty with you.

Philip   Well, I was very tactless.

Don   Nonsense, he was absurd. A sad case in many ways. There’s no doubt he was very intelligent, but he had no idea how to write. That play was no good at all.

Philip   I rather liked it.

Don   I know you did, but it was no good. The ideas were there, but not the technique, it was far too cerebral.

Philip   Under the circumstances, I think that’s a uniquely unfortunate adjective.

Don   What? Oh, oh yes. (He laughs.) Anyway, I see you’ve managed to get him off the wall.

Philip   Don.

Don   Sorry.

Philip   Celia wasn’t very sympathetic either. The first thing she said when I rang her up and told her about it was: ‘I’m not surprised, he’s always been ludicrously absent-minded.’

Don   Did she?

Philip   Yes.

Don   Come to think of it, absent-minded’s even more unfortunate than cerebral. (He laughs, recovers, shakes his head.) No, it was a terrible thing to happen, really. (He tries to look solemn, but is suddenly overcome by helpless laughter.) Sorry.

Celia   What’s the joke?

Don   John.

Celia   It’s all very well for you to laugh, you didn’t have to clean him up. He was all over the place.

Philip   Please, love …

Celia   Philip had to throw away his Picasso print, didn’t you?

Philip   Can I do anything in the kitchen?

Celia   I’ve yet to see any evidence of it. (Celia goes out.)

Don   Who’s coming this evening?

Philip   Liz.

Don   Good.

Philip   Erm … Araminta, do you know her?

Don   Oh, really, where did you pick her up?

Philip   I didn’t pick her up. She’s one of the few people I come into contact with who has any interest in my subject at all. She seems quite intelligent, so I asked her.

Don   I don’t think it’s your subject she’s interested in.

Philip   Oh?

Don   Haven’t you heard about her?

Philip   No.

Don   The quickest drawers in the faculty. Old Noakes was telling me the other day he literally had to beg her to leave him in peace.

Philip   Did he really?

Don   Yes. So I should keep your hand on your ha’penny if I were you. (Pause.) Who else?

Philip   Braham Head.

Don   The novelist?

Philip   Yes. He’s up here for a couple of weeks. Celia met him at some party and wanted to ask him. Do you know him?

Don   Slightly.

Philip   What’s he like?

Don   Incredible prick. He’s one of those writers who’ve been forced to abandon the left wing for tax reasons.

Philip   I quite like one or two of his books.

Don   They’re dreadful. Dreadful. The man hasn’t a glimmer of talent. And he’s so rude and loud.

Philip   Oh.

Don   He left his wife last year. He said to her: ‘Darling, I hope you’re not going to be bourgeois about this, but I’m going to leave you and the children for a few months.’

Philip   What happened?

Don   She divorced him. Best thing she could have done. Their whole relationship was soured by her failure even to attempt suicide, which he apparently regarded as unforgivable. He likes to think of himself as a Romantic.

Philip   Surely he’s not that bad?

Don   Worse. Worse. (He broods for a moment.) What about the Prime Minister, then?

Philip   What about him?

Don   Haven’t you heard?

Philip   No.

Don   He’s been killed.

Philip   What?

Don   Assassinated.

Philip   Has he?

Don   They’ve had nothing else on the radio all day.

Philip   How terrible.

Don   Most of the Cabinet as well.

Philip   Killed as well?

Don   Yes.

Philip   How did it happen?

Don   Well, shortly after the debate began today, this rather comic figure came bowling into the courtyard of the House of Commons on a bicycle: an elderly and rather corpulent woman wearing one of those enormous tweed capes, you know, ankle-length. She parked her bicycle, dropped the front wheel into one of those slots they have, and puffed up to the gallery, where she sat for a bit, beaming amiably and sucking Glacier mints. Then, all of a sudden, she leapt to her feet, produced a sub-machine-gun out of nowhere, and mowed down the front bench.

Philip   My God.

Don   Yes.

Philip   But … who was she?

Don   A retired lieutenant-colonel.

Philip   Salvation Army?

Don   No, no, she was a man. He gave himself up afterwards. He’s completely round the twist. He says he did it to save Britain from the menace of creeping socialism.

Philip   But it’s a Tory government.

Don   Nevertheless, he feels, if you can believe it, that the party is slithering hopelessly to the left. Said he felt called to be his country’s liberator. Apparently, he’s been practising in his garden in Wolverhampton for months.

Philip   God.

Don   Nine of them he got, and several others wounded. He probably could have managed more, but he seemed to feel an adequate statement had been made, so he trotted down the stairs, gave himself up like an officer and a gentleman and sauntered off to the cells whistling the Dam Busters’ March.

Philip   But … what’s going to happen?

Don   Oh, I don’t know, coalition government, another election, something like that. It’s not going to make much difference, whatever happens.

Philip   Isn’t it?

Don   Not to us, anyway.

Philip   But … it’s appalling.

Don   Yes. (Pause.) Worse things have happened. (Pause.) I must say, I think it was rather boring of him to do it on November the 5th. I suppose in the Tory Party that’s the kind of thing that passes for aesthetics.

Celia   Did you put the lemons in the ’fridge? I can’t see them anywhere.

Philip   Oh, God.

Celia   Don’t say you’ve forgotten them. Honestly, I ask you to get one thing …

Philip   I’m sorry. I’ll go and get them now.

Celia   Everything’s shut. We shall just have to have it without lemon, that’s all.

Don   I think I’ve got a couple of lemons.

Celia   Have you?

Don   Yes, in my rooms, in the fruit bowl, I think.

Celia   Can I nip over and get them?

Don   Yes, sure.

Celia   Thanks.

Philip   Celia.

Celia   Yes.

Philip   Anything I can do to help?

Celia   No.

Don   When is it you’re getting married?

Philip   I, er, not sure really. Probably sometime in the vacation.

Don   Are you looking forward to it?

Philip   Well, yes, I think so. Why?

Don   Just wondered.

Philip   You don’t really think it’s a good idea, do you?

Don   I don’t know, Philip.

Philip   I mean, you don’t really like her, do you?

Don   It’s not that I don’t like her, that’s not it at all. She’s very amusing and intelligent and attractive – it’s just I sometimes wonder whether she’s your kind of person.

Philip   What do you mean? You mean I’m not amusing and intelligent and attractive.

Don   Of course not. But you’re rather … serious, aren’t you?

Philip   I suppose so.

Don   And Celia isn’t. In fact, she’s rather frivolous.

Philip   But I like that.

Don   Oh, I’m sure you do. Sure you do. But it may cause you some trouble.

Philip   She is very malicious sometimes. She does seem to hate a large number of people I find perfectly harmless. Intensely. At first, I didn’t think she really hated them, but I’m not so sure now.

Don   Have you ever thought about Liz?

Philip   Liz?

Don   Ever thought about marrying her?

Philip   No. Why?

Don   She’s very fond of you, you know.

Philip   Really?

Don   Yes. I was talking to her about you the other day and I could see she was very fond of you.

Philip   Why, what did she say?

Don   Well, I can’t remember exactly, nothing specific, it was just the way she talked about you. I’m sure she’d marry you like a shot if you asked her.

Philip   Do you think so?

Don   I’m sure of it.

Philip   She hasn’t said anything to me about it.

Don   Well, she has her pride.

Philip   And you think I should marry her instead of Celia?

Don   I didn’t say that. I wouldn’t dream of saying that.

Philip   But you think it.

Don   I’m just saying it would be possible if you wanted to do it.

Philip   Well, I don’t.

Don   I know you don’t. I’m sorry I mentioned it.

Philip   That’s all right.

Don   I have this theory which I think is rather attractive. I think we’re only capable of loving people who are fundamentally incompatible with us.

Philip   That’s horrible.

Don   But attractive.

Philip   It’s not really a very helpful thing to say.

Don   Take no notice. You know very well that unless you’re a scientist, it’s much more important for a theory to be shapely, than for it to be true.

Celia   Christ, I must have a drink. (She pours herself a Scotch and sinks into a chair.)

Don   Did you find the lemons?

Celia   Yes. Thanks.

Don   Isn’t she marvellous?

Philip   I think so.

Celia   So do I. I can’t bear cooking: and I cook. I can’t bear working: and I work. (She smiles.) And I can’t bear Philip: and I’m marrying him.

Philip   It’s all part of one basic condition.

Celia   What?

Philip   You can’t bear being a woman: and you are.

Celia   What do you mean?

Philip   It was a joke.

Celia   Not a very funny joke.

Philip   It was about as funny as yours.

Celia   Mine?

Philip   Yes, when you said you couldn’t bear me and you were marrying me.

Celia   You think that was a joke?

Philip   I …

Celia   (laughing) Your trouble is you have no sense of humour.

Philip   Sorry.

Braham   I hope I’ve come to the right place. (He sees Celia.) Ah, hello love. (He turns to Don.) You must be Philip.

Philip   No, I’m Philip.

Don   I’m Don.

Braham   Oh, yes, we’ve met, haven’t we? Well, I’m Braham. Very nice of you to invite me.

Philip   It’s kind of you to come.

Braham   (Turning to Celia) I went down to the market to buy you some flowers, my love, but they didn’t seem to have any. So I got you this instead. (With a flourish, he produces a cauliflower from the paper bag.) As a token of my esteem.

Celia   (dubiously) Thanks.

Braham   I’m sure you’ll be able to find a niche for it.

Celia   I’ll put it in the kitchen.

Braham   Just the place.

Philip   Can I get you a drink?

Braham   Lovely girl.

Philip   Sherry or Scotch?

Braham   (abstractedly) Yes, please.

Lovely. She tells me you’re getting married.

Philip   Yes. Erm …? (His courage fails him.)

Braham   What?

Philip   Nothing.

Braham   Well well well.

Silence. Philip hands him the glass.

Braham   I observe that you are left-handed and that your maternal granny stands, or rather stood, six foot three in her socks.

Philip   Er …

Braham   How can I tell, I hear you cry.

Philip exchanges a slightly desperate glance with Don as Braham sips his drink. Philip smiles weakly.

I can see it in your … Did I ask for Scotch?

Philip   Well …

Braham   Funny, I thought I said sherry.

Philip   Let me …

Braham   No, no, never mind, never mind. Think nothing of it.

Philip   Do you smoke?

Braham   Thank you.

Philip   I gave up last summer. It was months before I could make up my mind, but I finally decided I was more nervous about dying of cancer than I would be if I gave up smoking.

Braham   Well, naturally.

Philip   No, no, what I mean is that I decided that the degree of nervousness I suffer in everyday life under normal circumstances without smoking although it was alleviated by smoking together with the added nervousness caused by the threat of ultimate cancer came to a sum total of nervousness it seemed to me in the end after lengthy as I say consideration greater than the original nervousness which had in the first place prompted me to take up smoking. If you follow my meaning.

Braham   I’m not sure I do.

Philip   No, well, I’m not expressing myself very well. I just mean it was paradoxical that I took up smoking because I thought it would be good for my nerves and discovered that even though it was I was more nervous after I’d taken it up than before because of the …

Celia   What are you burbling about?

Philip   I’m not, I’m not expressing myself very well. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.

Braham   I should have a cigarette if I were you.