Том Стоппард: The Dissolution of Dominic Boot

(Breaks open gas meter — coins.)

One, two, four, five, six, seven, ten, ten and six, ten and six. oh no, damn. oh God.

Cut. In taxi — moving.

DOMINIC: First left, second right. Oh, would you like ten bob to be going on with, here.

(Coins)

DRIVER: You been robbing the gas meter?

DOMINIC: No, no, I just collect them.

(Thinks:) Twenty-one and six — plus sixpence, minus ten bob I gave him, minus one and threepence halfpenny, that makes — twenty-two bob, plus sixpence, minus ten bob I gave him.

DRIVER: (Pulling up) Here we are, 73, Mansion Lane.

MOTHER: (On pavement) Taxi!

DOMINIC: Hello, Mother. I was just coming to see you.

MOTHER: Dominic! You always pick the wrong time. Never mind, we can talk in the taxi.

(To driver) Bond Street.

DOMINIC: Going shopping?

MOTHER: Hair-do. They always ruin it, but I don’t trust anyone else. I’m thinking of going blue. And piled on top. Well, what’s with Vivian?

DOMINIC: A bit straggly — the rain, you know.

MOTHER: What are you talking about? Why are you so wet? Don’t you use Vivian’s umbrella?

DOMINIC: No, why should I? She doesn’t even use the one I gave her.

MOTHER: I mean the one she told me she gave you, for Christmas.

DOMINIC: (Is everyone mad?) She — never — gave — me — an — umbrella!

MOTHER: I like that girl. Have you seen anything of your father?

DOMINIC: No.

MOTHER: I’m told he’s thinking of getting married again.

DOMINIC: Who’d have him?

MOTHER: God knows. I think you ought to go and see him. I think it’s quite wrong not to keep in touch with one’s father.

DOMINIC: Righto.

(Thinks:) Twenty-four, minus ten, plus.

MOTHER: And if you find out anything about her, give me a ring at once. Why aren’t you at the office?

DOMINIC: Well, things are a bit slack, and I’m my own boss now really, so I thought I’d take an hour off and have tea with you.

MOTHER: Well, it seems to be the first job you’re any good at. I hope you’re being sensible about it. I bet you’re not saving.

DOMINIC: Oh, I am.

MOTHER: I was getting quite tired of you always coming to see me for money. Good God — twenty-five shillings — Dominic.

DOMINIC: (Trapped) It’s all right — it’s all on the office — I’ve been making some calls for them, you see, old Cartwright.

(Thinks) Oh God.

Cut— DRIVER driving.

DRIVER: You know who used to cut my mum’s hair? My dad.

DOMINIC: He was a hairdresser, was he?

DRIVER: No, he was a grocer. Corner shop off the Angel.

DOMINIC: (Thinks:) Thirty-one minus ten plus.

DRIVER: And guess who cut his hair. My mum.

DOMINIC: (Thinks:) Thirty-nine, and sixpence for Vivian and sixpence for Mother, minus ten, plus, no minus.

(Up) Can you lend me four pennies?

Cut— DOMINIC dialling — phone.

DOMINIC: (On phone) Hello, Charlie. Dom. Dominic. Is that Charles Monkton? Well, it’s Dom. Dominic Boot. Yes— listen, Charles I’m in a bit of a fix — you know that two pounds I lent you? Yes, now. I’ll come over. Where’s your place? What? I’m not coming by train — I’m in a taxi. No, that’s why I’m broke, Charlie — what? All right. Past East Croydon station, first left, 18B. Right.

(Down phone.)

Cut.

DRIVER: You ever been to Croydon?

DOMINIC: No. Why?

DRIVER: It’s over the six-mile limit.

DOMINIC: Limit?

DRIVER: Yes. You see, if you stop me, then I’ve got to take you wherever you want, that’s the law. But if it’s over six miles the meter doesn’t count so I’m allowed to fix a price. That’s the system.

DOMINIC: That’s ridiculous.

DRIVER: Well, I lose on tips, you see. I can take you there, well in that time I can have four other fares and a tip on each. So I’m allowed to strike a bargain with you. Two pounds.

DOMINIC: A pound.

DRIVER: Right, you can pay me off now.

DOMINIC: Twenty-five bob.

DRIVER: Doesn’t pay.

DOMINIC: Thirty with tip.

DRIVER: Thirty-two and six.

DOMINIC: Done!

Cut. In taxi — stationary.

DOMINIC: (Thinks:) Seventy-one in all. Minus ten I gave him. Sixty-one. Three pounds one. One and threepence halfpenny in change. About three pounds, then. Minus two of Charlie’s. One pound. Minus, minus nothing. One pound, one pound. Who? Please God, who? Plus fourpence he lent me. One pound and fourpence. Who?

DRIVER: Well have you made up your mind? Can’t sit in Croydon for ever. There’s a fellow there who’s looking like mad for a taxi. Looks like a town fare. If you don’t want to go, say so quick.

(Door opens— DOMINIC in street.)

DOMINIC: Excuse me, you seem to be rather desperate for a taxi.

MAN: I am — I’ve got an important meeting. why?

DOMINIC: I think I can help you. Please take my taxi.

MAN: How very kind of you. Are you sure?

DOMINIC: Certainly. I’m in the business.

MAN: Business?

DOMINIC: I’m a taxi agent. That’ll be twenty-five shillings.

MAN: I’ll call a policeman.

DOMINIC: Very well, one pound and fourpence, and you pay the tip.

Cut— DRIVER driving.

DRIVER: What did that copper want?

DOMINIC: Little misunderstanding.

(Thinks:) A hundred and eight, minus ten, minus two pounds.

(Up) You must make a fortune.

DRIVER: Shilling a mile I have to give the company for this cab. And there’s my fuel. I’d never keep body and soul together without the shop.

DOMINIC: Grocer’s?

DRIVER: Clothes, furniture, stuff, second-hand. I’ve got a staff. My brother. He cuts my hair. Well, my mum and dad have passed on.

Cut.

DOMINIC: Father! Oh dear Father who art in Windsor.

FATHER: Good Lord, what brings you here?

DOMINIC: Well, I was missing you, Father.

FATHER: Don’t be absurd. Still, good to see you. How’s your mother?

DOMINIC: Very well, Father. Sends you her love.

FATHER: Nonsense. For goodness’ sake sit down. Whisky?

DOMINIC: Fine. Oh, Father, by the way — I’ve got a cab outside.

FATHER: Can’t you even walk ten minutes from the station? You people.

(Up) Bates! Give this half crown to the taxi driver and bring us some whisky. Well now, Dominic, how’s the job?

Cut.