MAUDE goes to sink unit, and, during the ensuing dialogue, makes herself a cup of tea with a tea-bag. She shows her familiarity with the place by slapping the kettle.
MAUDE (looks into sink)
Oh dear, something seems to be blocking the sink.
LEO
Community playwrights.
MAUDE
Really?
LEO
You must like coming here.
MAUDE
Yes, I do.
LEO
I mean, you can hardly need the money.
MAUDE (registering the statement as slightly impertinent)
No, I hardly can. But then I don’t suppose you came for the sake of a fee, either, Mr Rafkin.
LEO
Please call me Leo. It was an impulse. My work wasn’t going too well. I thought a change of scene might help.
JEREMY comes quietly out of the bedroom and stands on the landing, unwilling to interrupt.
LEO
As you probably know, I’m spending six months in England, working on a book.
MAUDE
No, I didn’t know.
LEO
It was in the Guardian.
MAUDE
Ah. We take The Times and the Independent.
LEO
I’m on leave from my University. I have a Guggenheim.
MAUDE (hint of mockery)
Congratulations.
LEO
I’m writing a novel about the end of World War Two in Europe.
MAUDE
Ambitious.
LEO
It is.
JEREMY
Er, I’d better get back to the farmhouse or the students will be feeling all neglected. Is there anything we should discuss about the course?
MAUDE
I thought we’d stick to the usual pattern.
JEREMY
It seems to work best.
LEO
What is the usual pattern?
JEREMY (with the air of someone repeating a set speech)
This evening, after dinner, is for everybody to get to know each other. Tomorrow morning you two should explain how you’re going to organise the course. We think it’s a good idea if they write something new while they’re here, not just revise the stuff they’ve brought with them.
LEO (ironically)
You mean, like write a novel in four days.
JEREMY
Well, it has been known, believe it or not. But no, something like a chapter, or a short story.
LEO
Somebody wrote an entire novel in four days?
JEREMY
Yes, he sat up every night, on benzedrine or something.
MAUDE
Was the novel any good?
JEREMY
It was before my time. I shouldn’t think so.
LEO
Still, to create an entire world in four days. Even God took six. I’d like to meet that guy.
JEREMY
Anyway, on Day One, after the plenary, you and Maude should see the students individually. Some may need encouragement to start writing.
LEO
To start?
JEREMY
Yes.
LEO
You mean, some of these people have never written anything before?
JEREMY
Obviously they have a feeling that they’d like to write.
LEO shakes his head disbelievingly.
LEO (sotto voce)
Jesus Christ.
JEREMY
Tomorrow evening, either you or Maude will read from your work, and then the other one will read on the following evening. You did bring something, didn’t you?
LEO
Yeah.
MAUDE
Your novel about the War?
LEO
I never read from work in progress.
MAUDE
Why?
LEO
If the audience doesn’t give you ten minutes’ standing ovation at the end, you lose faith in it.
MAUDE
Oh, I’m just the opposite. I like to try things out.
JEREMY
On the third evening, we have the visiting writer.
LEO
Another writer?
JEREMY
Yes, we’ve found that at this point in the course, when everybody knows everybody else pretty well, and the atmosphere may be getting a little too cosy, it’s good to introduce a catalyst. Someone with a completely different perspective. He, or she, comes for just one night – gives a reading after dinner and goes off next morning.
LEO
Who’s coming?
JEREMY
Simon St Clair.
LEO
That asshole?
JEREMY (with an alarmed glance at MAUDE)
You know him?
LEO
He interviewed me once, in Chicago. Flattered the hell out of me, then went away and wrote a lot of sneers and smears.
JEREMY
Oh. I didn’t know that of course when I …
MAUDE
I don’t suppose he meant any real harm, Leo.
LEO
Oh yes he did, harm is exactly what he meant. Have you met this guy?
MAUDE
Occasionally.
JEREMY
He won’t be here for long, anyway. The next day is the last one. Final efforts by the students, then an early dinner and afterwards they read from their work. It’s a kind of rite de passage. It usually turns into a party with everybody getting rather tired and emotional. The course disperses next morning, after breakfast.
LEO
Well, that’s something to look forward to.
MAUDE
Oh, don’t be such a misery!
LEO (startled)
What?
MAUDE
If you want to go, for God’s sake go! I’d rather teach the whole course myself, than have you moaning and whingeing for the next four days.
A pause.
LEO
I said I’ll stay, and I’ll stay.
LEO stalks into his bedroom and shuts the door. MAUDE looks at JEREMY and makes a grimace, half-amused, half-exasperated.
JEREMY
Well, I’d better be running along. (Sotto voce) It’s a bit awkward, him having a grudge against Simon.
MAUDE
Mmm. It’s a pity Simon isn’t the other tutor.
JEREMY
I did ask him.
MAUDE (with affected casualness)
Did you tell him I suggested it?
JEREMY
No, I wasn’t sure if you … Should I have done?
MAUDE
No. I don’t know. It’s of no importance now, anyway.
JEREMY
He said he’s taken a vow never to teach a Wheatcroft course again.
MAUDE
Why?
JEREMY
Last time a Jehovah’s Witness tried to convert him and a policeman got drunk and threw up all over his designer jeans.
MAUDE
How very unlucky.
JEREMY
Well, he did provoke them rather … I think he only agreed to come back as visiting writer because you were going to be here.
The telephone rings twice then stops.
MAUDE (surprised)
Is there a telephone in here?
JEREMY
Yes, an answerphone. It rings twice and then starts recording. It’s one of those sneaky ones where you can listen in to the other person leaving their message.
The amplified voice of HENRY LOCKETT (a middle-aged Oxford don) is heard from the answerphone. The actors on stage speak over his monologue.
HENRY’S VOICE
Oh, hallo, er, this is Henry Lockett for Maude Lockett …
MAUDE
Henry!
HENRY’S VOICE
Er, Maude, I’ve lost my, that is to say I can’t seem to find my cufflinks, I mean I can’t find a pair that match, and, er, there’
s a College Feast tonight and, er, I should feel rather a prat with odd cufflinks …
JEREMY
You can pick it up and speak to him, you know.
MAUDE
No, I don’t want to. I think this a retrograde step, Jeremy, I come here to get away from domestic concerns.
HENRY’S VOICE
… I was wondering whether you’ve seen any of them anywhere, the missing ones, that is, and picked them up …
MAUDE
How did he know the number, anyway?
JEREMY
I suppose he phoned the farmhouse, and someone over there gave it to him.
HENRY’S VOICE
… or did Mrs Grimshaw perhaps, when she was doing our bedroom, you don’t think, I mean is it possible that she sucked them up in the vacuum cleaner, God I hope not, do you think I should go through the dust bag and if not where the hell are they …?
MAUDE
Can’t we turn him off?
JEREMY
JEREMY goes over to the phone and peers helplessly at it. He has an inspiration, opens the drawer in the table, and takes out an instruction booklet. He consults this, frowning.
JEREMY
God! It’s all in Arabic … Ah, here we are.
JEREMY rotates the page, trying to make sense of a diagram.
HENRY’S VOICE
… I looked in your jewellery box but they, that is the red velvet one – have you got another? Anyway, they aren’t, I thought you might have put them in there, but they aren’t there …
LEO opens the door of his bedroom and looks out with a puzzled expression.
MAUDE (to LEO)
My husband. (To JEREMY) For God’s sake pull the plug out, Jeremy!
LEO goes across to phone.
HENRY’S VOICE
… Anyway, if you’ve any idea where any of my cufflinks are please, other than the odd ones I’ve got of course, please phone me back as soon as possible. Oh, and by the way, I’ve accepted the invitation to that conference –
LEO turns down volume, silencing phone.
MAUDE
Thank you.
LEO
You’re welcome.
JEREMY looks from one to the other.
JEREMY
Well, see you both at dinner.
Blackout.
Act One Scene Two. Later the same evening.
The barn. The sitting-room is empty and dark.
MAUDE (voice off)
Goodnight, Jeremy! See you in the morning.
Sounds of LEO and MAUDE approaching from outside. The door opens, and MAUDE fumbles for the lightswitch. The light comes on. MAUDE enters, followed by LEO, who is holding a plumber’s mate.
MAUDE
There! That wasn’t so bad, was it?
LEO
You make it sound like I’d just been to the dentist.
MAUDE
Well, you had the waiting-room look, exactly, just before dinner. Are you going to have a go at the sink?
LEO puts the plumber’s mate down on the sink-unit.
LEO
Tomorrow. How about a nightcap? I have a bottle of scotch in my bag.
MAUDE (slight hesitation)
Well … All right. That would be nice.
MAUDE sits down on the sofa. LEO goes into his bedroom, leaving the door open, to fetch the bottle of scotch. MAUDE projects her voice.
MAUDE
Who was the grey-haired lady you were sitting next to at dinner?
LEO
A retired schoolteacher. I didn’t catch her name.
MAUDE
You seemed to be very deep in conversation.
LEO (emerging from bedroom with bottle)
It dawned on me after about ten minutes that she thinks I wrote The Catcher in the Rye. I didn’t have the heart to disillusion her.
MAUDE (laughs)
And what did you make of Penny?
LEO
Penny?
MAUDE
Mrs Sewell, from South Wales. Big eyes and fair hair.
LEO goes to sink unit and pours two glasses of scotch.
LEO
I didn’t get much out of her.
MAUDE
I thought she was very nice.
LEO
Water? There doesn’t seem to be any ice.
MAUDE
Please.
LEO adds a little water to MAUDE’s glass and takes the two glasses over to the sofa.
LEO
They’re all nice enough. The question is, can they write?
MAUDE
Well, we shall see. These courses are a bit of a leap in the dark.
LEO (raises glass)
Geronimo.
MAUDE
Hmm?
LEO
It’s what paratroopers say as they jump out the plane. (He drinks.)
MAUDE (smiles, drinks)
Geronimo, then. I’m glad you decided to stay. I’ve admired your work for ages.
LEO
Including Wise Virgins and Other Stories?
MAUDE (evasively)
That was your first book, wasn’t it?
LEO
You didn’t like it so much when you reviewed it for the Spectator.
MAUDE
Oh, that was a very long time ago. I’m surprised you remember it.
LEO
I remember all my reviews.
MAUDE
Goodness, I hardly bother to read mine.
I never believe writers who say that.
MAUDE looks as if she is going to take offence, but backs off.
MAUDE
Well, Henry reads them for me. He only shows me the nice ones.
LEO
My wife – my last wife – only showed me the bad ones. She used to go to the library and photocopy them specially. That’s how I saw your review.
MAUDE (laughs uncertainly)
I can’t imagine I said anything really nasty about The Wise Virgin.
LEO
Wise Virgins. You said, ‘Mr Rafkin polishes his style, the better to see in it the reflection of his own ego.’
MAUDE
Did I? You know, you really shouldn’t attach so much importance to what critics say.
LEO
That’s easy for you to say. You’re a best-seller.
MAUDE
Well, not in the Jackie Collins class … if class is the word I want.
LEO
But whether you get good reviews or bad reviews, you’re sure to sell twenty thousand in hardback, eighty thousand in paperback – right?
MAUDE
Yes, I suppose so. You seem remarkably well informed about my sales.
LEO
There was an article in the Bookseller recently, by your publisher. I’m not that kind of writer. My books are literature. I don’t mean yours aren’t literature too –
MAUDE (ironically)
Oh, thanks.
LEO
But yours sell at Heathrow as well as Hatchards. Mine don’t. They earn me more money indirectly than directly. They win prizes, they attract grants, they justify my salary as a college teacher. So you see I’m highly sensitive to criticism. Favourable reviews are currency to me.
MAUDE (with exaggerated contrition)
I’m sorry I was unkind about Wise Virgins.
LEO
Oh, don’t let it worry you. I never did have any luck in England. (He picks up MAUDE’s glass) Let me freshen your drink.
MAUDE
No more, thanks.
LEO ignores this refusal, and refills her glass and his own at the sink unit.
LEO
Tell me about Henry.
MAUDE (slightly startled)
Henry? What about him?
LEO
He’s a college teacher, isn’t he?
MAUDE
He’s Reader in the History o
f Philosophy at Oxford, actually.
LEO gives drink to MAUDE. She puts it down on the coffee table without tasting it. LEO sits down beside her on the sofa.
LEO
He doesn’t mind you teaching this course?
MAUDE
No. Why should he mind?
LEO
If I were married to a woman as attractive as you, I wouldn’t want her to go away for nearly a week on her own.
MAUDE (smiles)
Oh, Henry isn’t jealous.
LEO
I don’t mean jealous. I mean, if I was married to a woman as attractive as you, I’d want to make love at least every other night.
MAUDE is surprised, but not flustered, by this pass.
MAUDE
Oh, I see. Well, after twenty years, you know, desire can be contained for a week or so without too much difficulty. (She picks up glass and drinks.)
LEO
Twenty years! You’ve been married to the same guy for twenty years?
MAUDE
I’m afraid so. (She glances at her watch) I think it’s time I went to bed. I’m feeling rather tired from the drive down. (She stands up.)
LEO (getting up)
Oh, have another.
MAUDE
No, thank you. Shall I use the bathroom first?
LEO
Sure. Go ahead.
MAUDE
Goodnight, then. See you in the morning.
LEO
Goodnight.
MAUDE ascends the stairs, watched by LEO, and goes into her bedroom. LEO swallows the last of his drink, takes the two glasses over to the sink and rinses them. He seems restless and uncertain what to do. He examines the bust of Aubrey Wheatcroft perfunctorily; he takes down and leafs through JEREMY’s book of poems without reading it. Upstairs, MAUDE takes off her dress and puts a dressing-gown over her slip. She exchanges her shoes for slippers. Carrying a sponge bag, she comes out of the room. As MAUDE descends the stairs, LEO goes into his bedroom and closes the door. MAUDE goes into the bathroom and closes the door. LEO opens the door of his room, and lurks just inside the threshold. Sound of toilet flushing. LEO, not wishing to ambush MAUDE too obviously, goes into sitting-room, moves towards the table, changes his mind and rapidly crosses the room to the sink. He picks up plumber’s mate and goes through motions of unblocking the sink, glancing occasionally at bathroom door. The bathroom door opens and MAUDE comes out. She sees LEO and smiles politely.
MAUDE
It’s all yours.
LEO
Thanks. I’m not making much progress with this sink.
MAUDE
Leave it to Jeremy.
MAUDE begins to ascend the stairs.
LEO
You were right about my room being damp.
MAUDE
Oh, it shouldn’t be too bad at this time of year.
LEO
And those bugs you mentioned – I have a phobia about creepy-crawlies. I don’t think I’m going to sleep well in there.