a fantasy in two acts by

Peter D. Wilson

VOICE We've got your daughter. (Mike slams down the phone and returns to his paper. The record ends. The telephone rings again. Mike warily answers it.)

MIKE Hello?

VOICE Is that Michael Evans?

MIKE Yes.

VOICE 25 Belton Road?

MIKE Yes.

VOICE We've got your daughter.

MIKE So you said before. (He replaces the phone and returns to the paper. After a slightly longer pause than before, the telephone rings again.)

MIKE (irritably) Hello?

VOICE Stop playing silly beggars. We've got your daughter.

MIKE All right then, prove it.

VOICE Eh?

MIKE I said, prove it.

VOICE What do you mean?

MIKE It's quite simple. You claim to have my daughter; right?

VOICE Yes, we have. Safely locked up. And she doesn't like it.

MIKE And from your tone I gather you're about to demand some ransom or service to be done before you let her go. Right?

VOICE Ah, now you're talking.

MIKE And to get down to brass tacks - supposing I have the usual parental feelings, you might reasonably expect that ransom or service to be substantial. Right?

VOICE Only natural, isn't it?

MIKE So it's surely just as reasonable for me to demand proof that you are in a position to meet your side of the hypothetical bargain.

VOICE Eh? What's that in English?

MIKE All right, to put it crudely, how do I know you can deliver the goods?

VOICE You'd better believe it - or else...

MIKE Unfortunately I don't.

VOICE You what?

MIKE I don't believe you have got her. So there's not much point in talking.

VOICE Hey, what sort of father are you?

MIKE That's your problem. (He hangs up. June enters from the kitchen.)

JUNE Who was that?

MIKE Didn't say.

JUNE Well, what did he want - or was it a she?

MIKE He said they had my daughter.

JUNE Oh? What have you been up to that I don't know about? (She gets out a small sewing job.)

MIKE Certainly nothing that's produced female offspring.

JUNE (sitting on the settee) You're sure he said "daughter"?

MIKE He repeated it often enough - and what else could sound like it?

JUNE (after a moment's thought) Nothing that I can think of - not that makes sense, anyway. Wrong number, perhaps?

MIKE He checked name and address.

JUNE Very strange. (Alarmed) You don't suppose he'd simply made a mistake and meant our son?

MIKE (drily) Alan may have his oddities, but I hardly think anyone could mistake him for a girl.

JUNE I meant, thinking of his last kidnapping - supposing he makes a practice of it.

MIKE Alan does?

JUNE No, you clot - the man on the phone.

MIKE Oh, I see. Not very likely, is it?.

JUNE Why not? If he does it often, he could easily get one job mixed up with another.

MIKE But hardly to the extent of confusing male with female.

JUNE Maybe it was just the dogsbody of the gang who phoned - someone who wouldn't matter if he was recognised by his voice and got put away for a few years.

MIKE Mm, he didn't seem too bright. But surely he couldn't be that dim? It would put even the usual Irish jokes in the shade.

ALAN (off) Hello, I'm back. (June shows visible signs of relief.)

MIKE Well, that seems to dispose of that idea. (Enter Alan, carrying another magazine.) You haven't been quietly kidnapped in the last half hour, have you?

ALAN Eh? What's all this about?

MIKE Someone phoned to say they had our daughter. Your mother wondered if there'd been a slight mistake over the gender.

JUNE (defensively) Well, can you think of a better explanation?

ALAN Have you told the police? (He sits and starts to read his magazine, while still half-listening to the conversation.)

MIKE Hadn't thought of it. I doubt if they'd be interested in such a harebrained tale.

JUNE Well, I think you ought to. After all, whatever the mistake these characters have made, they've presumably got someone's daughter.

MIKE Mm. I could understand their getting the name wrong, or the address wrong, but not the right name and address for the wrong person.

JUNE Say that again - no, don't bother. I think I see what you're getting at.

ALAN Mightn't they have got hold of some girl who wouldn't tell them who she was - or couldn't tell them - but happened to be carrying something with our name and address on it - a letter, perhaps?

MIKE That's the best suggestion yet. Right, I'll phone the police. Hardly a 999 call, though.

MIKE Sounds as if someone's moved in upstairs at last. Did you know about it?

JUNE Not a thing. No sign of furniture moving, either. I suppose they could be re-decorating the place before it's cluttered up.

MIKE Maybe. After all this time there must be a heck of a lot to do. They're still being remarkably quiet about it, though.

JUNE Well, you're not complaining about that, are you?

MIKE Not at all. And if that music's anything to go by, they should be agreeable neighbours. (Alan grimaces.) All right, Alan, I know your tastes are rather different. Anyway, it'll be good to have the place occupied again. Better than having to chase up the agent if there's a water leak or anything. (Finding the number and dialling.) Ah, here we are. Hello? Police Station? This is Michael Evans of 25A Belton Road. I have to report - well, I suppose you'd call it a threatening telephone call... (with gradually increasing impatience) Yes, Michael Evans... 25A Belton Road... About five or ten minutes ago... Well, no specific threat, but he said they had my daughter - and some talk of a ransom... No, I'm NOT reporting a kidnapping... she isn't missing... Yes, I'm quite sure... No, she isn't actually here - I mean, I haven't got a daughter... Do you really have to?... Oh, all right - about when?... Yes, that should do. Thanks. (Replacing the phone.) Blithering idiot. They're sending someone round to take a statement.

ALAN (alarmed) I thought you were going out this evening?

MIKE Were we?

JUNE Now don't tell me you'd forgotten - you promised to take Mother round to see that friend of hers in hospital. And it was more or less understood that we'd keep her company for the rest of the evening.

MIKE Oh, lord - I had forgotten. Still, this shouldn't take long, even if it's another fool like the one on the desk. And visiting time doesn't start for another hour yet. (To Alan.) Oh yes, and why are you so keen to get us out of the way this evening?

ALAN (rather sheepishly) Well, I'd asked Sylvia to come round...

JUNE Sylvia? I thought your girl friend was called Sheila.

ALAN That was last month.

MIKE If there were as much profit in second-hand girl-friends as in second-hand cars, you'd be worth a fortune by now.

ALAN (grinning) Well, safety in numbers, you know.

JUNE All right, but do try not to leave the kitchen looking as though a bomb had hit it this time.

MIKE And just to avoid any embarrassment, remember we'll be back about eleven - possibly a bit earlier.

ALAN Right, Dad. I'm meeting her at seven - I'd better go and tidy myself up a bit. (Exit.)

JUNE Say what you like about Alan's girl-friends, at least they've got him a bit better house-trained.

MIKE (astonished at the suggestion) What?

JUNE At any rate, he seems to have got over that pathological dread of soap and water.

MIKE More sanitary, I'll grant you: that's not quite the same as better house-trained.

JUNE I rather think it took me long enough to get you out of your bachelor habits.

MIKE Reminds me of the three things my grandmother used to say were in a bride's mind as she approached the church.

JUNE (suspiciously) Oh? And what were they?

MIKE (counting on fingers) Aisle, altar, hymn. But any girl who takes on Alan's got an uphill job.

JUNE Give him a chance. That's hardly likely to happen for a while yet. And you heard what he said about "safety in numbers."

MIKE Yes. (Teasing) But I seem to remember, back in the far-off, happy days of my youth, thinking that I had a good few more years of freedom - and then look what happened.

JUNE What did?

MIKE (cuddling her) You did.

JUNE Mind that needle! You nearly had it in my eye then!

MIKE Sorry, dear.

JUNE (not over-enthusiastically) Aren't you going to answer that?

MIKE Mm?

JUNE The door-bell!

MIKE I suppose I'd better. (He disengages reluctantly, and exits. June tidies herself.)

GREEN (off) Mr. Evans?

MIKE Yes.

GREEN Sergeant Green, CID. I believe you rang the station.

MIKE That's right. Do come in. Can I take your coat?

GREEN Thank you, sir. (Mike and Green enter.)

MIKE My wife, June. Sergeant Green.

JUNE How do you do, Sergeant.

GREEN How d'you do. (To Mike) Now, there was something about not reporting a daughter you don't have being kidnapped. I'm afraid I didn't quite understand.

MIKE I'm not surprised. Neither do we.

GREEN In that case, perhaps we could start by taking the usual particulars, and then see what emerges.

MIKE Right. Do make yourself comfortable. Would you like a coffee?

GREEN (producing his notebook) Not at the moment, thank you sir. Now, Mr. Evans, could I have your first name, please?

MIKE Michael.

GREEN Michael Evans. And the address is 25A Belton Road. (Suddenly remembering something) Michael Evans of 25A Belton Road?

MIKE That's right.

GREEN (sharply) If this is some sort of joke, I must say it's in very bad taste - besides its being an offence to waste police time.

MIKE I quite agree that the whole business is in appalling taste, but it certainly isn't a joke - at least, not on my part.

GREEN Do you have any proof of identity?

MIKE Well, really! Will a driving licence do? (Producing it from his wallet, which is on the sideboard.) Or a bank card? (Sarcastically) I dare say I could dig out a birth certificate if you insist, but it might take a little time.

GREEN (reading) Michael Edward Evans. Thank you, sir. Sorry about that - I didn't mean to be funny with you. But it's a rather remarkable coincidence: there used to be another Michael Evans here, only that was a Michael Fenton Evans.

MIKE Well, Michael and Evans are both common enough names.

GREEN As you say, sir.

MIKE And I'm blowed if I can see anything in bad taste about them.

GREEN It isn't that, sir. The other Michael Evans did have his daughter kidnapped.

JUNE (intensely interested) Really?

GREEN Yes. About twenty years ago. My aunt used to work next door, so I had a particular interest in the case. Very sad, it was.

JUNE Go on.

GREEN (anxious to make amends for his earlier gaffe) Well, she was a badly spoilt girl: an only child, and her parents doted on her. Very attractive and talented - used to play the piano a lot - my aunt used to say she could have got up to concert standard if only she'd disciplined herself to it. But she was wild; lots of parties, you know - some rather disreputable friends - had a fast sports car, and drove it like a maniac, I gather. And she had no time at all for discipline of any kind - couldn't stand being told what to do. That was what finished her, in fact.

MIKE How?

GREEN I suppose it was a ransom attempt - her father was pretty well loaded. Some character got into her car, pulled a gun on her, and told her where to drive while his pals followed behind. It seems she lost her temper, tore off so fast the others couldn't keep up, and then when laddo with the gun turned nasty, deliberately crashed the car into a bridge. He was pretty badly smashed up - had the best part of a year in hospital before the trial - but she was killed.

JUNE Terrible.

GREEN Yes. The parents never recovered from it. Her mother had a breakdown and spent the rest of her days in some kind of sanatorium; her father had a heart attack a few months after the crash and that was the end of him.

MIKE Things must have changed round here. It'd take an optimist to expect much of a ransom from anyone now.

GREEN Yes. Some areas go up, some come down - plenty worse than this. But we'd better get back to this other business. (Preparing to take notes) Would you please describe what happened, in as much detail as you can remember?

MIKE Yes, of course. There was a phone call. It would be about half past five, I suppose, though I'd dozed off and I can't be quite sure.

GREEN No offence meant, but is there any chance you could have dreamed the call?

JUNE None at all, Sergeant. I overheard the tail end of the conversation myself.

GREEN Right. We have to cover every possibility, you see.

MIKE Yes, quite understood. Well, in fact there was a string of calls. The first was simply a bald announcement that "they'd got my daughter." I thought it was just a stupid prank and hung up.

GREEN Because you haven't got a daughter?

MIKE Yes. Never have had.

GREEN Right. What happened then?

MIKE A few moments later, the same character phoned again. This time he checked name and address, then repeated the claim. I said I didn't believe him. We got a bit bogged down after that; I gathered that they wanted something in return for the girl's release, but we never established what. In the end I got fed up with the whole business and hung up again.

GREEN Hm. Not very much to go on.

MIKE No. I shouldn't have bothered you, only June and Alan persuaded me that someone must have been kidnapped and we'd better do something about it.

GREEN Alan?

JUNE Our son. He's just getting ready to go out - do you need to talk to him?

GREEN Was he a party to the phone calls?

MIKE No. He was out at the time. June wondered if it was he who'd been kidnapped, but he turned up a few minutes later. That was when he suggested bringing you in.

GREEN Quite right. It could have been something serious - may still turn out to be, of course. But it doesn't look as though he could help with it. And the whole business sounds more like a nuisance call than anything else - we've had a lot of them lately. This one's rather more elaborate than most, that's all. Do any of your friends go in for practical jokes of that kind?

MIKE They wouldn't be friends for long if they did. And anyone who knew us would hardly refer to a daughter.

GREEN True. Well, it's a bit of a mystery, but there's not much we can do about it, or need to do unless it develops into something nastier. I'll get these notes typed up and ask you to sign them some time, just to keep the paperwork tidy. Oh, one last thing - was there anything distinctive about the voice?

MIKE Nothing in particular. I'd probably recognise it again, but there's nothing I could describe.

GREEN Right, sir. I'd better get back to the station, or they'll start thinking I've been kidnapped. I hope you'll have no more disturbances. But if anything else does happen, you'll let me know, won't you?

JUNE Thank you, Sergeant. We certainly shall. And thanks for coming. Good night. (Mike shows Green out. June tidies the room until Mike returns.) I suppose that's all we can do?

MIKE All I can think of. At least he seemed to have his wits about him - more than I could say of his colleague.

JUNE Yes. And now we'd better get weaving, or Mother'll start to panic.

MIKE Right, shan't be long. Just a few things to see to. (Calls.) Alan! (No answer; Mike opens the hall door and calls again.) Alan! (Returning) Looks as though he's gone already - good job the sergeant didn't want him. Ah well, at least we don't have to wait for the bathroom. After you.

JUNE Mike!

MIKE Eh? Oh, sorry - coming.

Scene 2: later the same evening.

ALAN (switching on the light) They're supposed to be out until getting on for eleven, so we should have a few hours by ourselves.

SYLVIA Big deal. (Alan tries to embrace her: she deftly eludes him.) Well, aren't you going to offer me a drink or something?

ALAN Oh, yes, of course. What do you fancy?

SYLVIA What have you got?

ALAN Er - I'm not sure. (Checking the drinks cupboard.) Sherry - that's a bit low - whisky - vodka - gin -

SYLVIA Any lime?

ALAN Yes.

SYLVIA Right, gin and lime.

SYLVIA Where's the whatsit?

ALAN The...? Oh, through that door, on the left.

SYLVIA What's that racket?

ALAN Must be someone upstairs. Dunno who - haven't heard anyone there before today. That flat's been empty for ages.

SYLVIA Well, they don't have to make that row, do they? It's giving me the willies. Can't you get them to shut up, or play something better?

ALAN I suppose I can try.

SYLVIA Harry? Sylvia. I'm in - piece of cake. He's a right innocent. Now listen; I've left the loo window open - it looks on to a dark alley round the back - OK?... Yes, even you should be able to manage it... Good. We can play it either way now - easier if I can get him out of the way, of course, but I don't want to make it too obvious... Right. If not, I'll just keep him busy. That should be easy enough - he can't wait to get his hot little paws on me - then you use the other ploy... Don't worry, I can manage him... Oh, they're not due back until nearly eleven - so long as we're done by ten it should be clear enough - but don't run it too close... Right, see you.

SYLVIA Fat lot of good that's done.

ALAN I couldn't make anyone hear. There don't seem to be any lights on, either. Maybe they've gone out and forgotten it.

SYLVIA Try putting the radio on. Perhaps we can drown it.

ALAN Oh. Dad only got this today - I'm not quite sure how to work it. Still, here goes.

RADIO So there we end this live broadcast from the Fairfield Hall, Croydon, given by the Dartford String Ensemble. And now, as we've a few minutes in hand, here is a little programme information. You may be interested in a broadcast later this evening to commemorate the Danish composer Neil Carlsen, who died in obscurity fifty years ago this week but is now enjoying a modest revival of interest in his work. Tonight at ten fifteen we are transmitting a recording made by the Odense Festival Orchestra of his fifth symphony, written in 1916 and reflecting the turbulent events of that period. It was entitled by the composer himself "The Indistinguishable," for reasons that he steadfastly refused to discuss and which are still disputed by scholars. Tonight the orchestra is playing under its principal guest conductor, Arpo Markevich, who has made a particular study of Carlsen's work and is renowned for his authoritative interpretations; in fact he has contributed an analysis of the fifth symphony, and of its place in the composer's stylistic development, to this week's edition of "The Listener". And now it is time to join the Rudyard Wind Consort for half an hour of dance music from the fourteenth century courts of Germany. That was a period of change...

SYLVIA Blimey, that's worse than the piano. Try another channel.

ALAN There's something funny about the tuning - I'm not sure how to do it.

SYLVIA Then switch it off, for Pete's sake. (Alan does.) Have you got any decent records?

ALAN I doubt if anything here would suit you...

SYLVIA So do I.

ALAN ... and I haven't sorted out how the system works on anything but radio. (Struck by an idea - eagerly) But I've got a portable in my room - shall we go through there?

SYLVIA If it's portable, you can bring it here.

ALAN (deflated) Oh, yes.

SYLVIA Well, go on - get it - before that row upstairs drives me round the twist. And bring some cassettes with you.

SYLVIA What have you got there? (Alan shows her. She chooses one.) Mm, that might do. Try it.

ALAN (ambiguously) That's better.

SYLVIA Get me another drink, will you?

SYLVIA So there is someone up there after all. Well, turn it up.

ALAN Eh?

SYLVIA Turn up the volume!

ALAN Oh, yes. (He does so. After a few moments the wind band admits defeat.) That's fixed 'em. (He returns to caressing Sylvia, who begins to show some positive response.) I was beginning to think we'd never get together.

ALAN Good grief, what was that?

SYLVIA (angrily) I don't know and I'm not stopping to find out - whatever it is, I've had enough. (She starts to gather her things.)

ALAN But...

SYLVIA Never mind the buts. I can't stand any more of this - I'm off.

ALAN Can we go to your place?

SYLVIA I shall. You can go anywhere else you blooming well like - and don't tempt me to make any suggestions. I've got a thumping headache, and I'm not going to put up with any more messing about. (Exit. Alan follows, trying to placate her.)

ALAN Well, let me see you home at any rate - you never know what's going to happen on the streets these days... (The outer door opens.) Oh, hello, Dad - I thought you were going to be out all evening.

MIKE (off) Sorry, I didn't mean to break anything up...

SYLVIA (abruptly, off) You haven't done.

MIKE ... but your mother left something vital behind. This is - er - Sylvia, is it?

ALAN Oh, yes. Sylvia...

SYLVIA Skip the introductions - there's no point.

ALAN Sorry, Dad - she's a bit off colour. I'll just see her home - I may see what the lads are up to after that. Probably shan't be late.

MIKE OK, son. Take care.

MIKE Right, drop that gun, put your hands up and don't turn round. (Harry obeys. The gun, a toy replica, falls tinnily.) Now walk slowly over to the phone and dial 999.

MIKE Hm, not much more use than my banana. (He deposits the gun on the sideboard, eats the banana, then phones the police.) Hello, this is Michael Evans of 25A Belton Road... Yes, again... No, it's something different - I just disturbed an intruder... Yes, inside the flat... No, he ran off - seemed harmless enough... Anything missing? Haven't really checked... I'll do that... Oh, that could be awkward; he won't be long, will he? I'm supposed to be taking something rather urgently to my mother-in-law's... Ten minutes? Yes, I should be able to hang on until then. Thanks.

MIKE (off) Oh, hello.

SYLVIA (off) I left something behind - mind if I pick it up?

MIKE No, of course not. Come on in. (Both enter.) What was it you left? I haven't noticed anything.

SYLVIA (dropping her plebeian manner) Never mind that. (Mike turns and sees the gun.) This one isn't a toy - but do as you're told and you won't get hurt. I've nothing against you personally. Now, this is going to be more comfortable for both of us if you sit quietly there. (He sits; she covers him from another chair.) I'd better explain a few things.

MIKE (sullenly) Why?

SYLVIA Because what I've come to do will be a lot easier with your help, and I can't expect much of that if the only reason is a gun in your back.

MIKE True. And now you've started that way, I doubt if any explanation will make much difference.

SYLVIA I'm sorry about that. But it was the only way of making sure of a chance to do what I have to.

MIKE Which is...?

SYLVIA I'm coming to that. It's rather a long story.

MIKE It would be.

SYLVIA (ignoring the interruption) My grandfather used to have dealings with Fenton Evans, who owned this place at the time. On one occasion he asked Evans's opinion of a manuscript that had come into his hands and he thought might be particularly valuable. Evans took it off, supposedly to get it authenticated, but then refused to return it - and of course there was no receipt, so nothing could be proved.

MIKE Didn't he...? Oh, never mind.

SYLVIA Grandad was pretty sick about it, but didn't see what he could do to get the manuscript back. He'd have let it rest - he was far too good-natured to be in business, anyway. My father had other ideas, though, and tried a bit of persuasion that went badly wrong: he ended up crippled, and Evans's daughter was killed.

MIKE Just a minute; someone else was telling me... Sorry, go on.

SYLVIA Well, the shock practically killed Evans, and while he was in hospital, Grandad went to see him - simply out of the goodness of his heart, I imagine. At any rate, he was completely taken by surprise when Evans seemed to have an attack of conscience, and signed a paper admitting who the manuscript belonged to.

MIKE That gets over the lack of a receipt, doesn't it?

SYLVIA I'm not sure. Evans died that night and because the signature was shaky and not witnessed, Grandad thought it was worthless - or perhaps he just didn't want to bother the family at a difficult time. As I said, he was far too good-natured. Anyway, when the place was sold up, there was no sign of the manuscript, so it looks as though it's still where Evans stashed it away.

MIKE But that could be anywhere - even if it wasn't thrown out as rubbish. Or whoever Evans had taken it to might have hung on to it.

SYLVIA That's what we thought. But Grandad died a few weeks ago, and when we went through his things, Evans's paper turned up. And it wasn't just the admission that we knew about: there was a description of where the manuscript was hidden, behind some plasterboard in one of the rooms here. So I've come to get it.

MIKE But if you've got the proof of ownership, why go to all this...? (gesturing vaguely at the gun.)

SYLVIA And risk losing it again because the claim doesn't hold in law? Not on your nelly. I want it in my own hands and no arguments. So you're going to help me find it, and then I shall thank you very politely and disappear. But don't try any funny business; I'm not in the mood to take chances.

MIKE Don't worry, neither am I. What sort of manuscript is it, anyway?

SYLVIA A piece of music - a piano sonata, I think. There was a suggestion that it might have been early Mozart or J. C. Bach, unpublished.

MIKE That would be a find, and no mistake.

MIKE Hello?... Oh, Sergeant Green - thanks for ringing back - sorry to take so long answering... No, there doesn't seem to be anything amiss - just a window open... No, not damaged - and nothing's been disturbed as far as I can see... Right, that'll suit me a lot better, thank you. Tomorrow then. Goodbye.

MIKE Damn. (He answers the phone.) Oh, hello, dear... Yes, I'm sorry - there's been a bit of a commotion here... An intruder - I thought I'd better phone the police again straight away... Sergeant Green had just popped out - they were going to get him to ring back... Yes, he did, a minute or so ago. I don't know what he must have thought - I was a bit confused... Well, I must have dozed off, you see - nasty dream, too - horribly realistic - I'm still feeling rather shaky... No, I'll be all right in a minute, thanks... Yes, quite sure... He's coming again tomorrow... I know, but it's got to be done... All right, all right, it wasn't my idea to get them in the first place - but Green seems a decent sort... Right, I'll be along as quickly as I can. 'Bye.

MIKE Oh, we seem to be crossing again. (Alan grunts) Seen Sylvia home all right?

ALAN (grumpily) Yes.

MIKE I thought you'd be out longer. Didn't meet your pals, I take it?

ALAN No.

MIKE (realising belatedly that conversation is unwelcome) Well, I must get back to your mother - got held up before.

ALAN Right.

ALAN Women!!!

ACT 2

Scene 1: Saturday morning, about a week later.

ALAN Liz? Alan here... Alan... Alan Evans... Yes, it has been a while... Well, you know how it is... Oh, I've been pretty busy, what with one thing and another - exams coming up, you know... Yes, well listen - I wondered if you fancied going to Brian's party tonight... Brian Towler's - should be good... Yes, I know it's short notice, but... Oh, I see... Yes, of course I understand... Can't be helped... All right - see you.

ALAN Angela?... Oh, hello - it's Alan... Alan Evans... (Angry squeaks from the receiver; Alan holds the phone away in self-defence.) OK, if that's how you feel - be like that.

JUNE Oh, hello dear. I didn't realise you were up. I'm afraid we've finished the bacon and sausage, but I can do some more if you like.

ALAN No, thanks. I don't feel like a big breakfast.

JUNE Toast?

ALAN Yes, please. Any coffee?

JUNE I'll make some fresh. And there's cereal if you want it.

ALAN Thanks, Mum. I'll help myself.

JUNE Right. Er - rather a late night, wasn't it?

ALAN It was a bit. Sid had a video of an old film he wanted us to see.

JUNE Blue?

ALAN Not particularly - something called "The Graduate" - rather boring, really.

JUNE Mm, I remember. People used to rave about it. I never could see why. (Exit.)

ALAN (trying another number) Hello, it's Alan Evans here - is Susan about?... I see; any idea how long?... No, nothing desperately important - I just wondered if she'd care to go to a party tonight... Oh, already going out... No, I realised it was quite likely - very late to ask... (With mounting alarm) What?... Well, I'm not sure it's the sort of thing... They're mostly pretty young, you know... No, of course I don't mean that... I don't think... Look, excuse me, Mrs. Robinson - I've got to dash. (He presses the cradle switch, shaking his head in disbelief.) Phew - did that really happen or was I imagining it?

MIKE Morning, son. Were you imagining what?

ALAN Oh, nothing.

MIKE Must have been a substantial nothing, from the colour you've gone.

ALAN Well, I tried to phone Sue Robinson to ask if she'd care to go to a party tonight - her mother said she'd got something else on, but then - well, I might have got the wrong end of the stick, but she seemed to be trying to get in on it herself. Doesn't seem likely, I know.

MIKE Hm. Laura Robinson, eh? Some people have all the luck. You might have had an interesting evening there. (Seriously) But you're a lot better off without it. (In his normal manner) Your mother's had a bit of bother with the toaster, but it seems all right now. Should be ready soon. (He starts to study the newspaper.)

ALAN Thanks, Dad.

MIKE Did you notice there was a packet for you in the post?

ALAN No - what sort?

MIKE Small, squarish - rattled a bit. None of your discarded girl-friends are likely to send a letter-bomb, are they? It's on the sideboard.

ALAN (examining the package, as June enters) I wonder who that can be from?

MIKE Perhaps if you open it you'll find out.

JUNE (entering) Your coffee's ready. Oh, that parcel - I forgot to mention it. Looks interesting.

ALAN (opening voluminous wrappings to reveal a garishly-sleeved music cassette) Hey - I've been trying to get this for weeks! Where's it come from? (He examines the postmark.)

MIKE Is there a covering note?

ALAN (searching the wrappings) Can't see one - wait a minute - yes, here it is. (Reading) "Sorry about last week - I was starting a dose of lightning flu. Came across this the other day and thought you might like it. Love, Sylvia." (Mike starts at the name.) Well, there's a turn-up for the book!

JUNE That's very nice of her.

ALAN Mmm.

JUNE You sound doubtful.

ALAN Well, it doesn't seem... quite her, if you see what I mean.

JUNE Maybe she's trying on a new character for size. People do, sometimes.

ALAN (doubtfully) Possibly.

JUNE Well, you'd better ring and thank her. Those things aren't cheap.

ALAN I suppose so.

JUNE Don't sound so enthusiastic. What are you afraid of? You were keen enough on her last week.

ALAN Yes, but... After the way she went off, this doesn't seem right.

JUNE Really! Don't look a gift horse in the mouth - what do you say, Mike?

MIKE (coming out of a daze) What?

JUNE I said he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Should he?

MIKE Oh, no - no. But it does seem a bit odd.

JUNE What do you know about it?

MIKE Well, I bumped into her when I came back for your tablets the other night. She was in a foul temper then. Maybe it was the flu, but I didn't get the impression that she was the sort to come back all sweetness and light a week later.

JUNE But this looks like a peace offering, doesn't it? You don't throw that sort of money away for nothing.

MIKE Maybe she's after something.

JUNE What could she get out of Alan - I mean that she couldn't get from any other lad without bribery? I gather their circle isn't entirely monastic.

MIKE Maybe he has hidden depths that we haven't noticed.

ALAN (embarrassed) There's no need to go on about it.

JUNE No, there isn't. Are you going to ring her?

ALAN Er...

JUNE (realising he needs no audience) Mike, didn't you say the toaster needed a new plug?

MIKE Yes. I'll get one when we're out.

JUNE You bought a pack of three the last time, remember?

MIKE So I did. Right. I'll fix it this afternoon.

JUNE (signalling behind Alan's back) Mike!!

MIKE Yes? Oh, of course. (Both go into the kitchen.)

ALAN (telephoning) Sylvia? Alan here... Have you got over the flu?... Good... Yes, I'm fine... Yes, thanks - I've just opened it - a super surprise... Where on earth did you find it? I'd been looking all over... Oh? I didn't know that was one of your haunts... I see; what was that in aid of?... No, I couldn't - not in a month of Sundays - I'm no good at guessing games... Oh, all right - let's see - how about - um - a fabulously rich aunt you hadn't seen since your christening looked like kicking the bucket and you had to go and stake a claim to the pickings?... No?... Er - you'd decided to enter a convent and the only one that allowed men in was there?... Not that?... No, I give up... What?!! You were?... I don't believe it!... That's great! When do I see the results?... Oh, all right, spoil-sport!... I dare say I can wait... What's that? Tonight? Er, nothing much - why?... Brian's, eh? (Feigning indifference) I suppose it might be all right... No, nothing else... Yes, fine - I'll call about nine... No, there hasn't been time yet... I'll play it through now. Thanks. See you tonight. (He hangs up, does a little dance of jubilation, cheerfully screws up his list and lobs it into the waste basket.) OK, Mum, Dad - I've finished. (Exit with cassette.)

MIKE (off) Can you remember where I put the screwdriver? I couldn't find it yesterday. (He enters carrying the toaster.)

JUNE (following) You left it in the middle of the kitchen table when I was trying to make lunch the other day. I put it with your other odds and ends in that cupboard. If it isn't in exactly the right place, that's your own fault. And watch what you're doing with that toaster! You'll spill crumbs all over the place - Oh, too late...

MIKE Sorry, love - I'll sweep them up afterwards.

JUNE Never mind, I'll do it.

JUNE I suppose this was still working when you'd finished with it last time?

MIKE The cleaner sounds a bit rough. But at least it's better than that row of Alan's.

ALAN (entering) What's happened? My cassette player just packed up.

MIKE Could have been a surge on the mains from that (indicating the vacuum cleaner, which June now finishes using). Probably only the fuse gone.

ALAN Oh, heck. And just when I was trying that tape of Sylvia's.

JUNE At the risk of sacrilege, could he play it in here?

MIKE (wincing) I suppose, just this once...

ALAN Thanks, Dad. (Exit, returning a few moments later with his cassette.) Is it set up for tape?

MIKE I think so - yes. Can you manage it?

ALAN If it's just a matter of putting it in and switching on...

MIKE (shouting) For heaven's sake turn it down. There'll be complaints from half the street!

ALAN Which is the volume control?

MIKE Let me (moving across and turning it down). That's better. (More piano music from upstairs.) Phew. I'd better pop up and apologise about that.

JUNE Get away with you. You only want an excuse to see who it is up there.

MIKE Guilty, m'lud. (Exit.)

JUNE (calling after him) And if you're more than five minutes, I'll assume it's a dazzling blonde!

MIKE (poking his head back round the door) Actually, I prefer redheads. (He disappears.)

JUNE Whichever it is, don't stay all day to help with the decorating! (Coiling flex on the cleaner; after a pause, to Alan) Is the tape still all right?

ALAN Fine. Why?

JUNE I thought it might have been damaged when your set broke down.

ALAN This sort's pretty tough - not like Dad's one-twenties. They snap or wrap themselves round the capstan if you breathe on them.

JUNE Perhaps it depends what's on your breath. (Mike returns.) Well, which was it - blonde or redhead? Neither, I suppose, you're back so quickly.

MIKE Couldn't get any answer to the door.

JUNE What a disappointment. Perhaps they didn't want another interruption.

MIKE Maybe. But it's a funny thing - when I was up there, the music didn't seem to be coming from that flat at all.

JUNE Where, then?

MIKE If anything, down here.

JUNE Could Alan's tape have confused the direction?

MIKE I shouldn't have thought so. I could scarcely hear that at all.

JUNE Might it be like that bit in "Journey to the Centre of the Earth" where someone lost in an underground passage heard his friends miles away?

MIKE I can't imagine how. But I'll tell you one thing - there's no sign at all of anyone living up there, or even preparing to move in.

JUNE What would you expect?

MIKE I'm not sure, really. But certainly not the same grubby name-card that the last lot left behind. And there was never any doubt when they were in. This time we've heard music, but otherwise not a peep.

JUNE Well, the Grahams had two big lads - not everyone's as heavy-footed as they were.

MIKE True. But even with just a slip of a girl in carpet slippers, you'd expect to hear the occasional creak of a floorboard or a door closing.

JUNE Very odd. Still, you'd better finish that plug now you've started it. (She takes out the vacuum cleaner.)

MIKE How's the tape?

ALAN Great - the best they've ever done. Though you can't really get the full effect at this volume.

MIKE Well for goodness' sake don't turn it any higher. It's painful enough as it is. (He returns to work on the toaster. After a pause, turning) Yes, dear? Oh, that's funny.

ALAN What is?

MIKE I thought your mother said something.

ALAN I didn't hear her.

MIKE Never mind; must have been my imagination. There! That's done. Shall we have a look at your cassette player while I've got the tools out?

ALAN Thanks - I'll get it. I hope it is only the fuse.

MIKE So do I. It's murder trying to get anything more complicated fixed these days. (Exit Alan.) Oh, bring one of your own tapes for it, will you?

ALAN (off) OK, Dad.

MIKE Have you tried it on batteries?

ALAN None in. They cost the earth, you know.

MIKE I know. Right. Let's see now... (opening plug and testing fuse) Hm, nothing wrong there. Let's see if it's working on radio.

ALAN Radio's OK. That's promising.

MIKE Don't be too sure. The nearer a thing is to working properly, the harder it is to find what's wrong. Try your tape.

ALAN (doing so) No go.

MIKE (looking round) What's that, dear? Peculiar - that's twice I've thought your mother said something, and she isn't even here. Try one of my tapes, will you? Er, let's see - this one isn't too precious.

MIKE Now yours again.

ALAN Still no go.

MIKE Turn down the volume on mine and try it there.

ALAN That's exactly what happened with Sylvia's on mine.

MIKE Sounds as though it's stuck. Let's see if the spool's jammed.

ALAN (removing the cassette and testing both spools) No, both quite free. What do you think? (handing it over).

MIKE Mm, they seem OK. Hope it hasn't damaged the drive. Here, try mine again. (Again it works perfectly.) Very strange. There doesn't seem to be any consistency in it.

ALAN You haven't got an auto-reject for pop music, have you?

MIKE No such thing, worse luck. Though it'd be more useful to switch off other people's radios . (emphatically) No, dear, that wouldn't... (turning) What the devil's going on? Did you hear your mother say something then?

ALAN Not a word.

MIKE I'm beginning to think she might have had a point about sound being channelled around here. Twice I've heard a sort of vague murmur, but just then I could have sworn she said "Try a shotgun."

ALAN Doesn't sound like Mum.

MIKE Quite. Olive branches at thirty paces would be more in her line - outside the family, at any rate. Well, we don't seem to be getting anywhere with this machine of yours. At least it works some of the time on some things. I'm afraid we'll have to wait until something more tangible happens, unless one of us has a stroke of inspiration.

ALAN OK, Dad.

JUNE (entering from the kitchen) Are you out tonight, Alan?

ALAN Yes - I'm going with Sylvia to Brian Towler's party. (Mike starts at Sylvia's name.) I may be a bit late in. (He starts to gather his cassette, the player and mains lead.)

MIKE June, we've a bit of a mystery. Did you say anything about a shotgun a few minutes ago?

JUNE Why on earth should I?

MIKE I've no idea. Only three times I thought I heard you say something, and the last sounded like "Try a shotgun."

JUNE You must be imagining things. Don't start carrying on like Joan of Arc with her voices, will you? Perhaps you ought to get your ears tested. (Alan takes out his belongings.) Did you get anywhere with that set?

MIKE No. Can't find anything definite wrong with it. There's no problem on radio, and it'll play my tapes, but not his.

JUNE Well, don't waste any more time over it. At least he can tell Sylvia that her present was all right.

MIKE Yes.

JUNE (accusingly) Oh yes, talking of shotguns, I couldn't help noticing you jump or look sheepish every time Sylvia's name was mentioned.

MIKE Did I?

JUNE You certainly did. What's going on there?

MIKE Nothing. I only met her once, in passing.

JUNE Are you sure?

MIKE Positive.

JUNE Then why are you so nervous about her?

MIKE (diffidently) Well, it's rather hard to explain. But you remember last week, I told you that after I'd reported the intruder here, I dozed off for a few minutes while I was waiting for Sergeant Green to ring back?

JUNE Yes. I'm getting a bit worried about your habit of dropping off at every fig's end. You did it at Mother's the other day - it's terribly bad manners, you know.

MIKE I dare say, but never mind that now. That time last week, I had a pretty unpleasant dream, and Sylvia was the chief character in it. Extraordinarily vivid, too - one of those dreams where you can never be quite sure afterwards that it wasn't real.

JUNE Evidently she made a deep impression - in passing.

MIKE Must have done, though I can't think why. A pretty ordinary sort - rather unpleasant, if anything, though it might have been the start of the flu getting her down. That was the excuse Alan made for her.

JUNE It must have been bad if he was making excuses.

MIKE Yes. Perhaps it was her very nastiness that stuck in my mind.

JUNE (unconvinced) Mmm.

MIKE (inspired) June - Alan's out this evening - why don't we go out for dinner?

JUNE That's a nice idea - we haven't done it for ages. Anywhere particular?

MIKE How about the Pheasant? It's years since we've been there.

JUNE Suits me.

MIKE Right. I'll see if they can fit us in. Is the number still on the list?

JUNE I don't know - we threw the old one out a couple of years ago, remember?

MIKE Never mind. It'll be in the directory. (Searching) Yes, here it is. (Telephoning) Hello... Have you a table for two for dinner tonight?... Second sitting only? That's probably all right. Excuse me a moment - (To June) Mind it being a bit late? (She shakes her head.) Yes, that's OK; what sort of time?... Right, about eight...Oh yes, of course - Evans - M. Evans... Right. Thank you. (Replacing the phone) There, that's settled. Now, what's next on the agenda?

Scene 2: evening, the same day.

GREEN Right, sir, madam, here we are. We'll obviously want a statement from each of you, but it can wait until you've had time to recover.

MIKE Thank you, Sergeant, that's very considerate of you. I don't think I could face going over it just now.

GREEN Quite understand, sir. Will you both be all right now?

JUNE I shall be perfectly well when I've had an hour to recover. (Icily) My husband can obviously take care of himself. (She sits in an armchair in an unsuccessful attempt to relax.)

GREEN In that case, I'll wish you good night. (Exit. Painful silence; Mike prowls nervously.)

MIKE June, dear...

JUNE (snapping) Yes?

MIKE You seem upset.

JUNE (sarcastically) Upset!! Oh, no, I'm not upset. Not a bit of it. You've just scared the living daylights out of me for no reason that I can see, you get us into such a state that the police have to bring us home, and then you ask if I'm upset!

MIKE But, darling...

JUNE (blazing) Don't you "but darling" me. You all but got us killed this evening with your antics. So don't try buttering me up now.

MIKE I'm sorry...

JUNE What the devil do you think you were playing at, anyway?

MIKE I wasn't "playing" at anything.

JUNE All right, then, what were you trying to do?

MIKE Only what I had to.

JUNE Don't beg the question. Just what did you have in mind - if "mind" isn't stretching a point too far?

MIKE I don't know - I just knew I had to do something.

JUNE Nonsense. There was no call whatever for you to get involved. No one else did.

MIKE But I had no choice.

JUNE Now that's a downright lie. There were scores of other people around, and they simply kept out of the way - as any sane person would. Why couldn't you do the same?

MIKE I just couldn't, that's all.

JUNE If you'd only stayed put for another few seconds we'd just have been another couple among the dozens who saw those thugs drive off - but no, you had to imagine yourself a souped-up James Bond and chase them half way across the town until they crashed into that bridge. What in heaven's name was the big idea?

MIKE Well, it is supposed to be a citizen's responsibility...

JUNE Don't give me that. What good do you suppose you were doing? What would you have done if they'd turned on you? You'd have been just another mess to clear up. More to the point, so should I. And whatever got into you? You were behaving like a maniac. I was ten times as scared of your driving as of the yobs in front.

MIKE So was I.

JUNE Then why on earth didn't you slow down? I couldn't do anything but hang on and pray - you at least could have put the brake on.

MIKE That's just the point. I couldn't.

JUNE What?

MIKE I couldn't. I was trying desperately to do just that. But my foot wouldn't budge. I had no more control over the car than you did.

JUNE Look, I've had quite enough of your silly excuses. That car was never out of control. You had me terrified, but it was brilliant driving, however much I hate to admit it.

MIKE Maybe it was, but not my driving. Oh yes, my hands were on the wheel and my feet on the pedals, but someone else seemed to be controlling them. That's what frightens me more than anything about the whole business.

JUNE Rubbish. If you're in that sort of mood you can keep it to yourself. You'd better start thinking up a story for Sergeant Green that stands some chance of being believed, without landing you either in jail or in a lunatic asylum. Good night.

MIKE Thank you.

JUNE The bookshelf collapsed.

MIKE I wondered what the noise was. Funny, it seemed strong enough. Did you lean on it or something?

JUNE No, I was the other side of the room. I didn't see what happened - there was just a crash, and when I looked round, everything was on the floor. And this had fallen clear of the rest. Will - will you read it for me, please?

MIKE If you like. (He unfolds the sheet, recognises it with surprise and reads quietly but earnestly. June sits beside him.)

You are my sun, whose gently healing rays

unlock the earth and melt each frozen stream.

You wake my heart, make real my hidden dream;

for this release of grace, accept my praise.

You are my moon, with softly falling beam

to quell my fears and anger's heat allay;

when passion's grip would lead me far astray

you guide me homeward with your welcome gleam.

You, like the stars in glittering array

recall each night the splendours that abound.

When wonder fades amid the daily round

you bring the glory back to light my way.

Sun, moon and stars in ordered courses move

for all of time; and so shall last my love.

(After a few seconds' silence) My word, that's going back a bit.

JUNE Where did it come from?

MIKE Tucked into one of your books, I suppose.

JUNE No. I meant where did you find it originally?

MIKE (simply) I wrote it.

JUNE (after a pause) You never write poetry now, do you?

MIKE Don't seem to have the time. No, that's a cop-out: it just doesn't come to me.

JUNE (with gentle reproach) "... for all of time, and so shall last my love."

MIKE Oh, it's there all right; only it doesn't make such a gaudy show as it used to.

JUNE Sometimes I think it's faded away altogether. (Mike squeezes her hand.) Mike, going back to that business this evening - when you said you had no control over the car, were you serious?

MIKE Never more so.

JUNE It's an awful lot to swallow.

MIKE Do you want me to take an oath on it?

JUNE (convinced) Oh. It sounds as though you'd better keep away from the car, then.

MIKE That's what I thought. But as soon as the other one crashed, I was back to normal - well, shaking like a leaf, but back in my own mind. Though there was a rather terrible sense of satisfaction mixed with the horror at that tangled mess - as though I could feel someone gloating over the shoulder of my consciousness. I could almost hear a voice saying "That's that, then. I shan't need you again." It still gives me the shivers.

JUNE Me too. (Breaking the mood) I never made you any supper.

MIKE It's a bit late for that now. I'm not particularly hungry, anyway. How about you?

JUNE I'm not, either. But we ought to have something - after missing the dinner, and all the excitement.

MIKE I suppose so. Tell you what, I'll just nip round the corner for some fish and chips.

JUNE I'm not bothered about the fish - are you?

MIKE Not terribly. I'll just bring chips, then. Back in five minutes or so.

JUNE That was quick.

MIKE Yes, no queue. The plates haven't had time to warm, I suppose?

JUNE Not really. Some people say chips taste better out of the paper, don't they?

MIKE Depends on the paper. What's this one?

JUNE Er - the local Advertiser. Good heavens, look at that picture! The lengths some girls go to to make themselves hideous.

MIKE Is this the face that launched a thousand chips? (Taking a few) Hm, it isn't just the towers of Ilium that are topless, either. I wonder why it's always the girls with the least attractive anatomy that put the most of it on show?

JUNE Probably think it's the only way to attract attention.

MIKE What a fright. (Taking more chips) Hello - what's this bit? Oh, "Twenty years ago today." They must be short of news if they have to resurrect that sort of thing.

JUNE A lot of papers have columns like that. I don't know why.

MIKE Perhaps it's to let the old folks see how much they've outlasted. Just a minute though; what's this? "Accident at the High Level Railway bridge, Marston Lane... MG sports car driven by Miss Felicity Evans of 25 Belton Road... struck the central pier and was extensively damaged ..." - eat up, I can't see under there - that's better - "No other vehicle was involved. Miss Evans was found to be dead on arrival at the City Hospital. The only passenger, a so-far unidentified man in his twenties, suffered concussion and multiple injuries. He is understood to be still unconscious, and police are waiting by his bedside in the hope of obtaining a statement." Well, that's it all right - what Sergeant Green was telling us about.

JUNE Extraordinary coincidence. "Twenty years ago today." What's the date of it?

MIKE Er - April 1st. That was the date he came here. All Fools' Day. No wonder he thought we were trying it on.

JUNE (suddenly shivering) I've just thought of something else. Where was that crash this evening?

MIKE Marston Lane. Yes, that's what was worrying me. The same bridge.

Scene 3: the following morning.

JUNE Aagh! (Alan's head emerges.) Goodness, Alan, you nearly scared the life out of me.

ALAN (yawning) Sorry, Mum.

MIKE (entering from the kitchen) What's up? Oh, it's you, Alan. What on earth are you doing there?

ALAN Sylvia couldn't find her front door key, so I brought her back here. She's using my room.

MIKE (bantering) Very noble of you to give it up to her.

ALAN Well, it wasn't quite my original idea.

MIKE I don't suppose it was, but you may as well make a virtue of necessity.

JUNE I take it you'll both want some breakfast?

ALAN Just toast and coffee, please.

JUNE What about Sylvia?

ALAN She's on a slimming thing at the moment. She'll probably have nothing but coffee.

MIKE Anything exciting in the paper?

JUNE Take a look. I'll go and see to these Cordon Bleu breakfasts - or should I wait until Sylvia appears?

ALAN I could do with it now, thanks.

JUNE Right. Any idea how long she's likely to be? Not that it really matters, of course.

MIKE How did the party go?

ALAN All right.

MIKE You don't sound too enthusiastic.

ALAN Well, there was nothing particularly wrong with it. It was just that something seemed to be missing.

MIKE How did Sylvia take it?

ALAN She was - well, restless. It's funny, she seems hardly the same girl as last week.

MIKE How?

ALAN I kept getting the feeling she had something on her mind. Before, I never noticed much sign of a mind to have anything on. Last night we spent most of the time just talking.

MIKE (incredulous) Talking?

ALAN Yes, believe it or not. That was what she seemed to want. I'd never have dreamed she had so much to talk about. (With surprised realisation) Actually it was quite an improvement.

MIKE You're growing up, I expect. Comes as a bit of a shock. (Enter Sylvia.) Ah, talk of the... hm. Good morning. Sleep well?

SYLVIA (in her more cultured manner) Yes, thank you. And thanks for letting me stay overnight. It could have been awkward otherwise.

MIKE Well, there wasn't really much option.

SYLVIA No, I suppose not; I'm afraid it is rather a fait accompli. But thanks anyway. And I think I owe you an apology.

MIKE Oh?

SYLVIA Yes; last week, when Alan tried to introduce us - I was very rude, I'm afraid.

MIKE (nervously, remembering his dream) Think nothing of it. You were off colour, Alan said.

SYLVIA Yes, but that's no real excuse. I'm sorry for being so ill-mannered. And it's very kind of you to take it so well - I felt terrible when I realised afterwards.

MIKE Well, that's all over and done with now.

SYLVIA Thanks. Er - I know it seems dreadful after all that, but could I ask another favour?

MIKE No harm in asking, is there?

SYLVIA I suppose not. It's just that I'd like to make a quick telephone call. Would you mind?

MIKE No, of course not - go ahead. Er - if it's a private matter we could...

SYLVIA Oh no, it's just my father, you see. I don't want him worrying about my being out overnight.

ALAN (who has been goggling at this unfamiliar aspect of her character) You mean he was there all the time?

SYLVIA Yes, of course.

ALAN Then why all the fuss about the key? We weren't particularly late. Why couldn't he have let you in?

SYLVIA (angrily) Because he's crippled! It wouldn't be fair to disturb him. If you saw the effort it took just to get himself ready and into bed - and he insists on doing it by himself - you wouldn't want to drag him out again for anything short of fire or an earthquake. At least I hope you wouldn't.

ALAN I'm sorry - I'd no idea...

SYLVIA Well, you know now. (Contritely) No, that's not fair; you couldn't have guessed - I never mentioned it before. I don't generally talk about it. I'm sorry. Only it makes me angry when it costs him so much to be independent, and people just take it for granted.

MIKE I suppose the better he disguises his difficulties, the less consideration he's bound to get.

SYLVIA Yes. And the last thing he'd want is to be mollycoddled. Though it really is very hard on him. He tries to put on a brave face, but he gets dreadfully depressed at times. And he always tends to brood around the anniversary.

MIKE Anniversary?

SYLVIA Of the crash. Twenty years ago last week. I was just a kid at the time, and I don't remember much about it - only that he was away for a couple of years afterwards, being patched up. After a fashion.

MIKE A car crash?

SYLVIA Yes. He never says very much about it - only that he was jolly lucky to get out of it alive. Except just once, as a cautionary tale, he described what happened to the driver. Quite horrifying. I still remember it every time I take the car out. If he meant to make me doubly careful, it certainly worked. But excuse me - I must make that call.

MIKE You're not going to leave that blanket in the middle of the floor, are you?

ALAN Oh, sorry, Dad, I forgot about that. (He starts to gather and fold it.)

MIKE Where did it come from, anyway?

ALAN It's one of the spares from the top cupboard.

MIKE You'd better give it a shake before you put it away.

ALAN Right-oh. (He takes it out through the hall door.)

SYLVIA Hello Daddy - Sylvia here... Yes, I'm perfectly all right, thanks - I couldn't find my key last night, so I stayed at Alan's... What? Didn't you see the note I pushed under the door?... I see. Sorry if you were worried... Yes, they made me very comfortable... And you?... Good... No, don't bother - I'll pick them up on the way - if you don't mind waiting about an hour - there's something else I must see to while I'm out... Not later than twelve... No, there's no need - it turned up again this morning, bundled up with some other things - I can't think how I missed it last night... (Brightly) Oh yes, it's ages since you heard from them, isn't it?...(Aghast) What!? Oh, no... that's awful - both of them?... Yes, frightful for you, especially at this time... Would you rather I came straight back?... Yes, of course, you're better doing that by yourself. 'Bye. (Hanging up.) Thank you. (She stands for a few moments, deep in thought.)

JUNE (who has entered with coffee and toast) Something wrong?

SYLVIA (startled) Oh, sorry - I was miles away. Yes, it's my father - he's had a nasty shock.

MIKE Will he be all right?

SYLVIA I think so. He's probably over the worst of it already. Apparently a couple of his old friends were killed in an accident yesterday evening.

JUNE Oh, I am sorry. Is he very badly upset about it?

SYLVIA Rather, although he hadn't seen them for years - I gather they'd drifted apart after he was in hospital with his own do, but one of the widows remembered him and thought he'd want to know.

MIKE Sounds like one of those good deeds that'd be better left undone.

SYLVIA Yes. He's got enough problems of his own without worrying about anyone else's.

JUNE Can't be much of a life, poor man.

SYLVIA Well, he makes the best of it. But he hadn't many friends left anyway, and he'll feel lonelier than ever now. He used to have quite a social life, I gather, but that was a long while ago. Of course, with just the two of us it's a bit awkward entertaining people, and he can't get out much.

JUNE I gather your mother isn't...(breaking off in confusion.)

SYLVIA No, she died five years ago.

JUNE I'm sorry, dear, I didn't mean to pry.

SYLVIA No, of course, it's perfectly all right. (Accepting proffered coffee) Thanks.

ALAN (returning) Is that toast for me?

JUNE Yes, help yourself.

MIKE Must have been hard, having one parent crippled and then losing the other.

SYLVIA Yes. Still, we managed, somehow. In fact, one way and another, we've been quite lucky; when he came out of hospital, Daddy couldn't do his old job, but he was able to work in Grandad's bookshop. Then about ten years ago he took it over completely when Grandad retired - Mummy helped for a while there, of course - and now I can do the heavy part of the work - humping things around, getting out to look at collections, and so on.

JUNE Sounds interesting.

SYLVIA Well, sometimes. Usually they're mostly rubbish, but occasionally you come across something out of the ordinary. And once in a blue moon there's a real find.

MIKE (nervously) Such as?

SYLVIA Well, a Fielding first edition, for instance. I came across that at an auction about six years ago. Part of an estate that was being sold up. One of those grand old ladies of the manor, who'd kept the show going as well as she could after her husband had died, and practically run herself into the ground doing it. The children would have got rid of it years before. Can't blame them, really, in cold practical terms.

JUNE Sad, though, to see these places broken up.

SYLVIA Yes. I don't usually get sentimental about it, but I couldn't help thinking how the old girl had struggled to keep her treasures together, and then here were her precious offspring - not a very nice bunch, by all accounts - treating them as so much junk to clear out of the way.

JUNE They'd go quite cheaply, I suppose?

SYLVIA I see what you're getting at. Well, I'm not going to argue about the ethics of it. If it had been the old girl herself selling, I might have had qualms, but as it was - well, that lot didn't care a tinker's cuss about books as such, and they got more for them than they expected - not much, because obviously I didn't want to give the game away by bidding too extravagantly. We certainly made a good profit, but I think Daddy deserved it more than they did. He needed it more, too.

MIKE Business not too good?

SYLVIA Not brilliant. That pulled us through a bad patch, but it's always a bit of a struggle. We can't afford to let up. Oh, look at the time - I must be off soon. Will you excuse me while I gather my bits and pieces?

JUNE Good heavens, it is late. (Suddenly remembering) Mike! That apple pie for Mother's dinner! We never took it. Will you run me round now? (To Sylvia) Can we give you a lift?

SYLVIA No, thanks, it's only a few minutes' walk - I could do with it to clear the cobwebs. And it'll take me a little while to sort myself out.

JUNE Right. You will excuse us, won't you? We'll really have to dash.

SYLVIA Yes, of course. And thanks for everything.

JUNE You're welcome.

SYLVIA Do you think you could get me a paper?

ALAN I suppose so. (Pointedly) News of the World or Times?

SYLVIA (ignoring the sarcasm) Observer, if you can get it, please.

ALAN Right. I'll see what I can do.

SYLVIA No... No... I can't - I can't bear to... Don't make me...

SYLVIA Oh - how terrible - I never realised... Yes, it must have been beautiful before ... No - Daddy told me about it, but actually seeing it - Does it still give you pain after - after you've - when you're a... I see - but what are you doing here?... So that was you, was it? How much more... Oh no! For pity's sake, hasn't he suffered enough? Crippled, and widowed, and left with hardly any friends... No, he isn't bitter - never blames anyone but himself... Yes, of course I'm sure - he's never said a word against you - not even against your father... I'm sorry, I didn't mean - Well, he was responsible in a way... Yes, of course I know he did try - that's why I've come to look (gesturing vaguely with the screwdriver)...Not much hope now, though... I'm sorry - I can't take any more of this - feeling a bit dizzy...

MIKE She's probably only popped out for a pint of milk or something. Don't start imagining a Great Pie Robbery. It'll be perfectly all right where it is until she gets back.

JUNE I suppose so. But I've a distinct feeling of something wrong. (Spotting Sylvia.) Mike! Look! What's the matter with her?

MIKE (trying to remember the approved procedure) I don't know. (Sylvia stirs.) Looks as though she's fainted. You're supposed to loosen the clothing, aren't you?

JUNE (smacking him away) Hands off! If anyone's going to do that, I shall. And the same goes for the Kiss of Life, if you were thinking of trying it. Ah, she seems to be recovering a bit. Are you all right, Sylvia?

SYLVIA (slowly coming round) Oh, I think so, thank you - just a dizzy spell - sorry to make a nuisance of myself - I feel such a fool...

JUNE Don't worry. It could happen to anyone. Just take it easily for a little while. You'd better lie down - but not there, you can't be comfortable, and there's a draught - come through to the bedroom when you're ready to move - I'll make some coffee. Oh, where's Alan got to?

SYLVIA He went out for a paper...

MIKE (calling) Any idea where this screwdriver came from?

JUNE (off) Your tool kit, I suppose.

MIKE No, I haven't got one like this.

JUNE Makes a change from not being able to find your own, doesn't it? Perhaps it belongs to Alan.

MIKE That's probably it.

JUNE Damn! Hey, what the ...? Ouch!

MIKE What's up?

JUNE (Urgently) Mike, can you give me a hand? The mains socket's come away from the wall, and the wire's in a bad state - gave me quite a shock.

MIKE Coming. (Exit to kitchen) Probably the original rubber-covered stuff - it always tends to perish. Good grief, a whole panel's come away. You should have kept your hands clear.

JUNE I was startled - had a sudden feeling there was someone behind me. Goodness knows why.

MIKE Lucky you got no worse. Can you hold the socket while I switch off the mains?(He disappears into the hall-way to switch off at the fuse-box, returns and fishes out a roll of insulating tape from his tool kit, then crosses to the kitchen.) Now, this should do the trick for the time being. Can you just hold it steady?... That's it. Hello, there's quite a cavity there - and what's that at the bottom?

JUNE I don't know - I can't see through you.

MIKE Can you get the torch?

JUNE In the tool box, is it? (Entering to get it from the tool cupboard and returning to the kitchen) Here you are. What can you see?

MIKE Nothing much. Just a pile of paper shreds and - er - mouse droppings, I think.

JUNE How very dull.

MIKE I'll clean it out when we do a proper repair job. For the moment I'll just tape the board back in place. We can have the power on again then. Better not use that socket, though.

JUNE No, I'll stick to the one by the cooker. Can you see to the coffee? I'd better check how Sylvia is.

MIKE Right-oh. Switch on the mains while you're passing, will you?

JUNE (off) Sylvia!... Oh, sorry, I thought it was someone else... Excuse me, have you dropped something? (The outer door is heard to open and, a moment later, close again. June enters with a packet heavily wrapped in plastic sheeting) Oh - very odd.

MIKE (entering from the kitchen) What is?

JUNE I saw someone outside our door, and thought it was Sylvia going out - but as she turned at the street door I realised it wasn't. It was rather like her, but with a dreadful scar across her face - and there was this packet on the floor that I thought she'd dropped, but she didn't stop when I called - and when I went out to look, there was no sign of her. She must really have dashed to get round the corner so quickly.

MIKE Must have been the mystery music-maker from upstairs. If she's disfigured she may want to avoid people. That would account for a lot.

JUNE I suppose so.

MIKE What's the packet?

JUNE Take a look - seems to be a sheaf of papers.

MIKE (unwrapping the outer cover) Pretty old - look how yellow it is. I'd better not disturb the inner wrapping. Can you make it out through the plastic?

JUNE The writing's pretty difficult - I never could cope very well with Gothic script - S - O - N...

MIKE (slowly and painfully deciphering) Sonata in B flat, for klavier...

JUNE Mike! The kettle! It'll be boiling it's head off by now!

MIKE All right, I'll deal with it. You were going to see to Sylvia, weren't you? (Exit to the kitchen.)

JUNE Good heavens, yes. Whatever's the matter with me? It went clean out of my head.

MIKE (off) Well, you were interrupted.

JUNE I shouldn't have allowed a distraction. A patient's more important. (Sylvia enters, still rather shakily.) Oh, there you are - I was just coming to see how you were. You ought to have rested a bit longer, dear.

SYLVIA I really must get back - I promised Daddy to be home by twelve, and there are some things to get on the way.

JUNE You're in no state to go yet, by the look of you. Sit down and have a coffee, at least. Steady your nerves a bit.

SYLVIA Thank you. I'm sorry to put you to so much trouble.

MIKE It's no trouble at all. We'd nothing particular planned for this morning. And June loves having someone to fuss over - don't you, my dear? (rumpling her hair.)

JUNE Mike! Behave yourself! (To Sylvia) It's certainly no bother. Now sit down and drink your coffee. Biscuit?

SYLVIA Thanks.

JUNE (after a pause) How would your father have managed for breakfast?

SYLVIA He doesn't have much. And he's got everything arranged so that he can prepare it himself; as often as not, he's finished before I'm up. He's almost impossibly independent, you see. But there are some things he can't cope with, so I don't like to be away for too long.

MIKE How does he get to the shop?

SYLVIA We live over it. There's a stair lift: that really made a world of difference to him when we had it put in.

MIKE Must have done. Oh, I've just thought - it isn't that little bookshop in Radcliffe Street, is it?

SYLVIA Yes, that's the one.

MIKE I've often had a nose round there. Some interesting things. As a matter of fact, I picked this up there only a few weeks ago. (Pulling a book from the shelf) I wondered if it might be the first English edition.

SYLVIA (examining the book) Hm - Mark Twain - "A Yankee at the court of King Arthur" - 1889. Slightly foxed. No mention of earlier editions.

MIKE Exactly.

SYLVIA I'm not sure - not really my period. But I could find out, if you like.

MIKE No, don't bother, thanks. It isn't worth going to any trouble. I got it to read, more than for collector's value.

SYLVIA (passing it back to him) Hope you enjoyed it.

MIKE Fascinating, although not quite in the way I expected. After the film, I hadn't realised what a grim tale it was beneath the slapstick. Come to think of it, your father did say something on those lines.

SYLVIA Yes, he's pretty well up on things like that. He loves the Victorian stuff. If you're particularly interested he could keep an eye open for anything you might like.

JUNE Well...

SYLVIA Sorry, I really shouldn't start a sales pitch. Habit, I'm afraid.

JUNE Of course. It is your business, after all. And if you're worried about the social niceties, don't trouble yourself. I don't suppose Alan does very often.

SYLVIA He's no worse than most.

JUNE Maybe not. And at times (pointedly) he doesn't get much of an example at home. So we're not likely to take offence at a bit of shop talk.

SYLVIA All right. Thanks.

JUNE After all, if we were especially keen on that sort of thing, we could well have been glad to have your father look out for it. As it happens, it's just a casual habit of Mike's to pick up an odd book now and again. And it's hard enough to keep him down to earth without any more distractions - as you can see.

SYLVIA (amused) Yes, Daddy's a bit like that. That's why he wouldn't go into the business until he had to. Said it would be as bad as putting a drunk in charge of a pub. (Finishing her coffee) And now - please don't think me too dreadfully rude, but I really must be on my way.

JUNE Are you sure you're well enough?

SYLVIA Yes, quite recovered, thank you.

JUNE Mike will run you home in the car - won't you, Mike?

MIKE (emerging, startled) What?

JUNE I said you'd run Sylvia home.

MIKE Oh, yes, of course.

JUNE (wryly) I thought that'd bring you back to this world.

MIKE This century, actually. Curious, you know, how the idea of interactions between different times has gripped some writers - Priestley, for instance. And there was a piece I read...

JUNE Not just now, if you please. We have to get Sylvia home. And in any case, all this business about the past and the future tangling up with the present seems a bit far-fetched to me.

SYLVIA Actually, I think the past haunts all of us, more or less.

JUNE Very philosophical. We'll have to have a chat about it - some time. Mike! The car!

SYLVIA No, please don't - honestly, a bit of a walk will do me good. Hm, I said that before, didn't I? Seems hours ago.

JUNE Yes. Well, a lot's happened since then. If you're sure you'll be all right... We'll see you again, I hope? (Mike returns to his book, but without being totally lost in it.)

SYLVIA You're very kind. Thank you. It really depends on Alan, and I rather got the impression he wasn't too pleased with me about something. Oh, I nearly forgot - will you give him my apologies? I asked him to get me a paper, and here I am dashing off before he's back.

JUNE That's a point. Where can he have got to?

MIKE (briefly emerging) Probably bumped into one of his pals and got talking. He's no idea of time when that happens.

JUNE Like father, like son. Did you have a coat, Sylvia?

SYLVIA Yes. It's in the hall.

JUNE I'll get it for you. (She moves towards the hall door; Sylvia starts to follow.)

SYLVIA Anyway, thank you for everything. Goodbye.

MIKE You're welcome. (With sudden realisation, putting down the book) Oh, Sylvia...

SYLVIA Yes?

MIKE I think this must be yours. (He hands her the manuscript packet.)

SYLVIA What? (Examining it) What on earth...? Oh!... (She rushes to Mike and flings her arms round him.)

ALAN (entering with a newspaper; cheerfully) Hey, Dad - no poaching there! Put her down!

CURTAIN