Том Стоппард: The Dissolution of Dominic Boot

DRIVER: Who was that?

DOMINIC: My father.

DRIVER: He seemed angry about something.

DOMINIC: He’d just had some bad news. Derby Street Library, please.

Cut.

DOMINIC: (A desperate man) Vivian!

VIVIAN: Ssssh. (Whispering) For goodness’ sake, what’s the matter?

DOMINIC: (A desperate man whispering) Oh sorry. I say Vivian.

VIVIAN: Have you brought the books at last?

DOMINIC: Books? Oh — look, Vivian, please help me, you get paid today don’t you? I’ve got to pay off that taxi, you see

VIVIAN: Oh, Dominic — I’m very cross with you — we’re saving to get married and you keep taking taxis everywhere. It’s not fair, Dominic. Now you come running to me. Honestly.

DOMINIC: (The desperate man, cracked and yelling) OH, YOU STUPID COW, SHUT UP AND GIVE ME TEN POUNDS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!

Cut. Interior.

DRIVER: Well, frankly, you couldn’t have paid much for it, could you?

DOMINIC: It’s a very fine engagement ring. Ten guineas.

DRIVER: See that? Scratched. Four pound ten.

DOMINIC: It’s a diamond. Six pounds.

DRIVER: Five and I’m taking a chance.

DOMINIC: Done. What about the rest of the stuff?

DRIVER: Well it’s a bit of a mess isn’t it? I don’t know how you can live like this, I don’t really. I mean, it’s really junk, isn’t it? I’ll give you ten bob for the desk, and another ten for the mirror. The bed’s had it really — I mean six books isn’t the same as a castor, is it? Thirty bob with the mattress. Now over here. Not a bad wardrobe — fifteen bob — gas stove— couple of pounds if you like. That’s about it, isn’t it? OK, Dom? Look, someone’s bust up your gas meter.

DOMINIC: What about the clothes? There’s some good stuff there.

DRIVER: Can’t move it, you see. I’ll give you ten bob to take it away, and that makes us square, doesn’t it?

(Doorbell.)

Oh, that’ll be my brother with the van.

DOMINIC: Mr Melon.

DRIVER: Lemon.

DOMINIC: Mr Lemon, I’ve got to get back to the office before six. You couldn’t throw that in, could you?

DRIVER: Can’t do it, Dom. Company checks the mileage, you see. That’s a seven and a tanner drive, that is. Tell you what, I’ll cut my throat and do it for the suit.

DOMINIC: What suit?

DRIVER: That one you got on.

DOMINIC: But that only leaves me with a pair of pyjamas and a raincoat. I can’t go to the office like that. Can I? — Can I?

Cut. Door flung open.

DOMINIC: Is he back yet?

MISS BLIGH: Hello, Mr Boot. Is it still raining? Oh, you are wet. I do like your pyjamas Mr Boot. What’s the matter Mr Boot, you seem awfully upset. Mr Cartwright seems upset too.

(Door opens.)

CARTWRIGHT: Well, Mr Boot — Good God, man, what are you wearing? Have you gone mad?

DOMINIC: I don’t think so, Mr Cartwright.

CARTWRIGHT: Get out of here. I’m giving you a week’s notice. And stop crying.

DOMINIC: Yes, Mr Cartwright.

(Door slams.)

MISS BLIGH: (Always tender, soft, remote) Come on, Mr Boot. I think you ought to go home. Come on. I’m going your way, Mr Boot.

DOMINIC: (Weeping) Oh. oh.

(They go through door into street.)

MISS BLIGH: It’s raining again. Haven’t you got an umbrella, Mr Boot? Don’t cry, Mr Boot. Your pyiamas are getting awfully wet. I should do up your front, Mr Boot, you’ll catch cold. Pull your socks up, Mr Boot.

(Up) Taxi!. come on, Mr Boot. Come on, you can drop me off.