Keith Waterhouse - Collected Plays

ROGER: If I do go I shan’t come back.

ANGIE: I don’t want you back. I didn’t want you here in the first place. (She goes back into her stupor.)

ROGER hesitates then moves out, switching off the light.

ROGER: Sweet dreams.

Outside the flat he hesitates.

(As a narrative aside.) I could have gone back and strangled you, you were so exasperating. I was sick of painting myself into humiliating corners. I was sick of your brick wall. It was all over…or would have been, had not Charles of all people come unknowingly to your rescue and to mine…

ROGER’s office/ANGIE’s flat.

ANGIE remains slumped on her sofa. ROGER sits at his desk.

CHARLES enters.

CHARLES: I’m a fraction worried about the Penn’s Shortbread Products account.

ROGER: I thought I’d sorted all that out.

CHARLES: Businesswise yes, but you don’t seem to have sorted Mrs Penn out. She says you stood her up for dinner.

ROGER: I didn’t stand her up — I was anxious not to miss the last shuttle.

CHARLES: But you didn’t catch the last shuttle. You stayed at the Caledonian , remember?

ROGER: For Christ’s sake, I was tired!

CHARLES: Be that as it may, Mrs Penn is miffed. She’s going to be in London next week so I’ve made the supreme sacrifice and promised to take her to the opera.

ROGER: Very noble, but you have the Venice Luggage Fair next week.

CHARLES: You have the Venice Luggage Fair next week.

ROGER: But Benito Benotti’s your client.

CHARLES: He’s our client, Roger.

ROGER: (To the absent ANGIE.) I knew just how I’d break the news to you. ‘Darling, you know that new suitcase I promised you. I know where there’s rather a large selection…’

CHARLES, about to leave, hesitates and turns back.

CHARLES: By the way, I shouldn’t get up to anything in the way of high jinks under the heady influence of the misty lagoon. You know what a stick-in-the-mud Benotti is.

CHARLES exits.

ROGER, barely listening, is already making his plans for ANGIE. He picks up the phone and dials her number during the following.

ROGER: I had to get you a passport, air ticket, currency, clothes — so much to do, and all in secret. It was a monumental exercise but I glowed at the prospect of tackling it. You’d be prettily contrite and pretend that you didn’t deserve to come, but I’d forgive you, talk you round, and then we’d make plans. ‘What a lark!’, you’d cry, clapping your hands…

ANGIE’s telephone rings. She sulkily answers it.

ANGIE: Yes — what do you want?

ROGER: (His face falling.) Oh, we haven’t spoken for so long, I was just wondering how you are.

ANGIE: I’m all right.

ROGER: So I was thinking maybe it would be nice to meet up for a drink.

ANGIE: Why? I thought it was all over between us.

ROGER: Don’t be silly. Look — there’s something I have to speak to you about. Supposing we have lunch?

ANGIE: No, I’m not very well.

ROGER: Shall I come round to your flat, then?

ANGIE: I’ve already told you I don’t want you here.

ROGER: Then I’ll meet you at the end of your street. Half an hour. (He hastily replaces the receiver.)

JUDITH, laden with shopping, enters his office.

Flustered, he rises and kisses her. During the following ANGIE lethargically rises and moves outside her flat.

Judith, what a surprise!

JUDITH: I’ve spent all my money at the sales so now I’m looking for someone to take me to lunch.

ROGER: Darling — why didn’t you say at breakfast? I already have a client.

JUDITH: Of course you do. A client. Never mind.

ROGER: In fact, I’m late already… (He steps into the limbo area between his office and ANGIE’s flat. To ANGIE.) Great news, Angie! Four days in Venice! The two of us!

JUDITH: At any rate I’m glad I bought a new dress. Charles tells me we’re going to Venice next week.

ROGER: We?

ANGIE: Won’t it be awfully dank and miserable at this time of year?

ROGER: This is when Venice is at its best! All swirling mists and red sunsets, and no tourists!

JUDITH: Or aren’t wives invited?

ROGER: Afraid not.

ANGIE: I don’t have a passport.

ROGER: We’ll get you one!

JUDITH: But they’re not specifically non-invited, are they? Didn’t Charles take Lucille last year?

ROGER: At his own expense, yes. (To ANGIE.) And you’ll need clothes. I’ll give you some money.

ANGIE: What’s wrong with the clothes I’ve got? Are you ashamed of me?

ROGER: Of course not.

JUDITH: I wasn’t suggesting at the agency’s expense. If Charles and Lucille can afford it, I’m sure we can.

ROGER: It’s not a question of it being affordable, darling, it’s whether it’s worthwhile, just for four days including travelling. (To ANGIE.) There’s this wonderful island called Torcello. We’ll have Sunday lunch there. (To JUDITH.) Besides, I have to dance attendance on Benotti.

JUDITH: We can both dance attendance on Benotti. We could take him to Sunday lunch on Torcello.

ROGER: And I do have to spend a lot of time at the Luggage Fair.

JUDITH: You won’t be spending every waking minute there. If you’re all that interested in luggage you can go out to Heathrow and watch the carousel go round and round.

ANGIE: Anyway, I don’t have a proper suitcase!

ROGER: I’ll buy you a bloody suitcase!

ANGIE: There, you see — that’s how you’d be like. Making scenes and rows and holding inquests and spoiling everything.

ROGER: I won’t, Angie, promise. (To JUDITH.) I’m sorry, darling — I’ll make it up to you. Promise.

JUDITH: You really know how to make a wife feel wanted, don’t you?

JUDITH angrily crosses her arms.

ROGER: Angie? Angie! Look, do you want to come to bloody Venice or not? Because if you do you’re going to have to stop just standing there like some primeval fucking slug and give me some co-operation.

ANGIE turns her back on him.

Angie! Angie!

ANGIE: I’ll think about it.

Both women glare at him. He is torn between them.

CURTAIN.

ANGIE’s flat. It is now much less bare and altogether brighter than when we last saw it, with potted plants, table lamps and knick-knacks. A curtained wardrobe is hung with new clothes.

We discover ROGER, carrying a Canaletto print, in the limbo area. During the following he enters ANGIE’s flat.

ROGER: Such as we were, Venice was the making of us. We did things we’ve never done before or since. Long walks, window shopping, pavement cafés, museums, even, and the sex was good. All the ups and downs, the spats, the tiffs, the arguments, the accusations, the sulks, the flare-ups, had without our appreciating it until now endowed us with an easy familiarity in bed. It was incredible to think that in all these months we’d slept with each other only once, that after Edinburgh we’d resumed an entirely vertical relationship which had continued until this Venetian re-consummation. You brought a chameleon quality to bed that I found quite extraordinary — a willingness, an ability, a talent, to adapt completely to my needs. It was as if you had me programmed on a home computer. Yet I didn’t feel computerized. I felt by the time we left Venice that our love-making was exclusive, stamped ‘Limited Edition’.

The telephone rings. ANGIE’s answering machine goes into play. After a moment we hear Cheevers’ voice on microphone. ROGER, stock-still, stares at the answering machine until the message ends.