The next morning. Empty stage. The sound of a key in the lock, then Patrick enters, followed by Dave, who looks somewhat the worse for wear, but seems cheerful.
Dave Well, this is very civil of you, old sport. Any chance of a cup of coffee?
Patrick Sure.
He moves across the dining-recess and off into the kitchen; clatter of cups. Meanwhile, Dave settles himself comfortably in the swivel-chair. Patrick reappears.
Where is this undertaker’s?
Dave Chalk Farm.
Patrick Bit out of your way.
Dave I decided to go and see a friend. As it turned out, she wasn’t very pleased to see me. Wasn’t my lucky evening for social calls.
Patrick smiles uneasily.
However, she was able to give me a bottle of Scotch. Then she made an excuse and I left.
Patrick To the undertaker’s.
Dave Not immediately. I wandered about a bit and drank the Scotch. I was just thinking I couldn’t possibly make it all the way back to the Savoy, when I spotted the shop. Could be I’m developing a taste for breaking and entering, anyway it was very easy, and I was just settling down for a kip in this very comfortable silk-lined casket when they arrested me.
Patrick How come?
Dave Apparently I left the door open.
Patrick It’s the first time I’ve seen in the cells.
Dave It’s all right. I was past caring. (Pause.) I’m sorry I had to get you involved.
Patrick That’s …
Dave I couldn’t very well tell them I was staying at the Savoy, could I, they’d have given me a proper kicking.
Patrick I’ll fix the coffee.
He exits to the kitchen. Dave turns and shouts after him.
Dave White please. And white sugar. None of your poncy crystals.
Patrick returns with two mugs of coffee, hands one to Dave, who takes it without acknowledgement, moves across to the sofa, sits, sips. Silence.
Patrick I believe, I believe we have a friend in common.
Dave looks across at him, waiting.
Charles Peters.
Dave Charlie.
Patrick Yes.
Dave Mate of yours, is he?
Patrick Well …
Dave Because he’s certainly no friend of mine.
Patrick Oh, really?
Dave Matter of fact, I think he’s a fucking toerag.
Patrick Ah.
Silence.
Dave I suppose you have a lot of friends.
Patrick Fair number, you know …
Dave Yes. Don’t believe in it myself.
Patrick Don’t believe in what?
Dave Friends. Loyalty I believe in.
Patrick I don’t um …
Dave What you going to do, marry her?
Patrick Well, I mean, eventually, maybe I yes will possibly.
Dave What’s she said to you about me?
Patrick Enough.
Dave What I want to know is, how long have you been lurking around waiting for this to happen? (Pause.) Have you spent years admiring her from afar? Or were you the sympathetic shoulder for her to snivel on? Or have you in fact been giving her one twice weekly down amongst the filing cabinets?
Patrick Yes; to a certain extent; and no.
Dave What are you talking about?
Patrick Answering your questions.
Dave I see. (Pause.) In that case, what do you mean by to a certain extent?
Patrick I mean I tried to be sympathetic whenever she was obviously unhappy, which I think she appreciated. But she never told me what it was was making her unhappy.
Dave In other words she never complained about me?
Patrick No.
Dave That woman has no feelings.
Patrick Is that a joke?
Dave No, of course it isn’t, you humourless berk.
Patrick It seems to me … if you’re frightened what people are going to say about you, you should be careful how you treat them.
Dave And conversely, needlepoint mottos can make your thumb bleed.
Silence. Patrick, puzzled. Dave, drinking his coffee.
Anyway, was it worth waiting for?
Patrick What?
Dave What do you think?
Patrick I don’t think I have to talk to you about that.
Dave Reason I ask is, the age I am now, which is of course the age you were some years ago, can’t remember the point of this remark … oh, yes, what I used to regret most were the women I couldn’t have; now, as often as not, it’s the women I do have.
Patrick Not a problem of mine.
Dave What I mean is, you’ve had the best of her now, from now on it’ll be downhill all the way. She’s not what I’d call sparky, you’ll find it gets pretty boring, I used to have to put a record on or read a book. Why go through all that and upset yourself? Why don’t you leave her to me, I’m all she’s good for.
Patrick What do you expect me to say to that?
Dave Yes.
Silence.
Patrick Look, it’s really no good talking to me about all this.
Dave I know that, I realise that, but I don’t seem to have much alternative, do I? I mean, if you come back from abroad and find the person you’ve been living with for two and a half years has locked you out and refuses to speak to you, you have to grasp at any straw. Put yourself in my place. (Pause.) Mentally, I mean.
Patrick I know, well, I tried to persuade Ann this might not be the best way of going about things, but she insisted.
Dave You mean she doesn’t do what you tell her?
Patrick You have a very aggressive way of putting a question.
Dave You have a very evasive way of not answering one.
Patrick I would have thought in your profession, not having your questions answered was all in a day’s work.
Dave Right. Whereas for you …
Patrick That’s right.
Dave I once frightened a man off by spending an entire evening violently attacking the Jesuits.
Patrick Was it a subject close to his heart?
Dave No, on the contrary, he knew as little about the Jesuits as I did. But once he’d ventured a tentative protest against some particularly outrageous assertion of mine, of course he was done. Hours of flabby footwork and judicious mumblings against the energy and passion of an apparently committed man. You can imagine the effect on the woman in question.
Patrick Yes.
Dave The contempt she felt for that poor bastard was something beautiful to behold. Of course, she was very stupid. I married them off in the end. I sometimes wonder how often and in what terms they speak of Jesuits.
Patrick Is this by way of being a warning?
Dave Only indirectly. The Jesuits wouldn’t do for you and Ann. Whereas anything would have done for those two. Stock-car racing. I could have harangued him on stock-car racing, that would have been almost as good. Although the Jesuits did give me more …
Patrick Mileage.
Dave Scope. (Pause.) Where were you the night I got back, anyway?
Patrick Bristol.
Dave Bristol?
Dave Terrific. (Pause.) I spent the whole night and most of the next day sitting on my suitcase in the porch.
Patrick Didn’t you get the letter?
Dave Naturally I got the letter. But the letter didn’t say you’d be skulking in Bristol for days. Nor did it say you were both going to take a lengthy holiday from the office. By the way, that must have caused some tittle-tattle among your colleagues.
Patrick I doubt it.
Dave Nor did it say anything about you, beyond referring to you as ‘someone else’, a more or less accurate but I thought not altogether flattering description. The only way I could find out who you were was to go and listen in to the tittle-tattle among your colleagues.
Patrick I see.
Dave I’m sorry I pretended not to know who you were last night. I thought it would be …
Patrick Jesuitical.
Dave Expedient, yes. Forgive me. But, you see, you can surely appreciate, it was a desperate situation. I mean, God knows, I’ve split up with enough people in the past, but it’s always been a kind of ritual disembowelling. Never the guillotine.
Patrick Ann thought it would be better.
Dave Do you?
Patrick Well, I must say, judging by the image you’ve just …
Dave Then let me put it another way: it’s always been a jump but there’s usually been a parachute.
Patrick Well … listen … perhaps … you should come and have dinner with us this evening.
Dave Really?
Patrick Yes, I can understand … it would be a chance to clear things up.
Dave What time?
Patrick Eightish?
Dave Done. (Pause.) Ann’ll be pleased.
Patrick Well, if she really doesn’t think it’s a good idea, I can always call you and cancel.
Dave Yes.
Patrick At the Savoy.
Dave Oh, yes.
Patrick Or at the paper?
Dave No, at the Savoy.
Patrick Good.
Dave My word, this is civilized. Now all that remains is for me to touch you for a loan.
Patrick I don’t think so.
Dave No?
Patrick How much do you need?
Dave How much can you spare?
Patrick As far as I can gather from Ann, you make a great deal more money than I do.
Dave Yes, but I need a lot of money.
Dave To spend. What do you think for? To spend.
Patrick I see.
Dave You think you’re underpaid?
Patrick Sometimes.
Dave Perhaps you should become a miner.
Patrick What?
Dave I’m sorry, it’s just something I say to test people’s reactions. If they laugh, I know they’re shits.
Patrick I might easily have laughed. Out of politeness, say.
Dave Makes no difference, does it?
Silence. Patrick’s hand goes to his inside pocket.
Patrick I … could probably manage something, just to … tide you over.
Dave Well. That’s very handsome.
Patrick Erm …
Dave But no.
Patrick No?
Dave No, on mature reflection, I don’t think it would be right.
Patrick Just as you like.
Dave Thanks all the same. Very generous of you. Shows there are more important things in life than women.
Patrick Ann tells me you hate women.
Dave She’s a clever girl.
Dave My mum wouldn’t let me have a bicycle.
Patrick I see.
Silence. Patrick gets up, looks at his watch, hovers indeterminately for a few seconds.
Dave Anything I can do for you?
Patrick Well. I’m afraid I have to go. I’m very late as it is.
Dave Don’t let me keep you.
Patrick I thought …
Dave I just have to make one or two phone calls, if that’s all right. In lieu of the loan.
Patrick Well, all right.
Dave I know you have to get on. This country may be on its knees, but others are on their faces in the mud, am I right?
Patrick Close … the door behind you.
Dave I’ve lived here for years, I know how to close the door.
Patrick Yes.
Dave See you this evening. You are going to be here this evening?
Patrick Yes, of course.
Dave Just wondered.
Silence. Patrick moves uncertainly towards the door.
How’s your nose?
Patrick What?
Dave Your nose. (He mimes swinging a punch.)
Patrick Oh, fine, thanks.
Dave Terrific. (Pause.) Thanks for everything.
Patrick nods awkwardly, confused; and exits. Dave calls out after him.
Take care. (He grins to himself, gets up, crosses to the desk and begins to rummage purposefully through the papers and letters.)
‘It’s a Wonderful World’ sung by Louis Armstrong.