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♪ So tell me now
♪ And I won’t ask again
♪ Will you still love me tomorrow?
♪ Will you still love me tomorrow? ♪
Good morning.
Is Mr Essendine awake yet?
He will ring.
What time does he usually ring?
That depends what time he went to bed.
I'm afraid we were rather late last night.
You see, we were at a party,
and Mr Essendine very kindly said he'd drive me home,
and then I found I had forgotten my latchkey.
And I knew I shouldn't be able to make any of the servants hear,
because they sleep at the top of the house.
So, Mr Essendine said that I could spend the night here.
And so I did.
If you were very late, he will probably sleep until the afternoon.
Oh, dear. Couldn't you call him?
Alas, no.
We can never call him.
Well, do you think I could have some coffee and some orange juice?
I will see. Fred!
- Good morning. - Good morning.
Have you any idea what time Mr Essendine will wake up?
Might be any time. He didn't leave no note.
Couldn't you call him? It's nearly 11 o'clock.
The whole place goes up in smoke if we wake him by accident, let alone call 'im.
Well, do you think I could have some breakfast?
- What would you fancy? - Coffee, please.
And some orange juice.
Rightyo, Miss.
Hello, hello, Cynthia, darling, it's Daphne. Yes, look, are you alone?
Listen, I'm you know where.
Yes, I did.
No, he isn't awake yet.
Look, I've only just got up. I'm not dressed or anything.
If anyone rings up from home, will you swear to say I stayed with you?
Darling, you promised!
Well, in that case, say I'm in the bath or something.
Yes, in about an hour, I should think.
Of course, I can't wait to tell you.
All right.
- Good morning. - Good morning.
I am Mr Essendine's secretary. Is there anything I can do for you?
Well, I'm afraid it's rather awkward.
You see, Mr Essendine drove me home last night from a party,
and I idiotically forgot my latchkey.
So, he very sweetly said that I could spend the night here.
In the spare room, obviously.
Obviously.
I do hope you were warm enough in the spare room.
Oh yes, quite, thank you.
- It's liable to be a bit nippy in there. - I kept the heater on.
Oh! Very sensible.
And now I was wondering if someone could tell Mr Essendine that I'm, well, here.
I expect he'll remember when he wakes up.
- Have you any idea when that will be? - I'm afraid not.
If he didn't leave any special time to be called, he might sleep on indefinitely.
I don't want to go away without saying goodbye and thanking him.
Well, if I were you, I should have some breakfast and dress.
And if he isn't awake by then, you can leave a message for him.
Have you asked for any breakfast?
Yes, I think the man's bringing it.
Uh...
Have you known Mr Essendine long?
Well, no, not exactly.
I mean, of course I've known him for ages. I think he's wonderful.
But we actually only met for the first time last night at Maureen Jarratt's party.
I see.
I think he's even more charming off the stage than on, don't you?
I can never quite make up my mind.
Have you been with him for a long time?
Just on seventeen years.
How wonderful! I expect you must know him better than anyone.
Less intimately than some, better than most.
Is he happy, do you think?
- I mean really happy? - I don't believe I've ever asked him.
He has a sad look in his eyes every now and then.
Oh, you noticed that, did you?
We talked for hours at the party last night. He told me all about his early struggles.
He didn't by any chance mention that life was passing him by?
I think he did say something like that.
Oh, dear.
Why?
Never mind, I just wondered.
You've no idea how I envy you, working for him.
But then I expect everybody does. It must be absolute heaven.
It's certainly not dull.
I hope you don't think it's awful me spending the night here.
I mean, it does look rather bad, doesn't it?
Well, really, Miss... Miss...
Stillington. Daphne Stillington.
Miss Stillington, it's hardly any of my business, is it?
Well, no, I suppose not, but I wouldn't like you to think...
Seventeen years is a long time, Miss Stillington.
I gave up that sort of thinking in the spring of 1922.
Oh, I see.
Will you 'ave it in here, Miss, or in the spare room?
Here, please.
I really think it would be more comfortable for you in the spare room.
The studio becomes rather active round about 11:00.
People call, you know, and the telephone rings...
Very well.
I'll let you know the minute he wakes up.
Thank you so much.
Oh! Is there soap in that bathroom?
Yes, but the tap's a bit funny.
- You 'ave to go on turning it till kingdom come. - Did you tell her?
Uh... She'll find out for herself.
Oh, we better send Miss Erikson in to her.
She's gone to the grocer's, but I'll tell her when she comes back.
Were you here last night, Fred?
No. She's news to me.
If he hasn't rung by 12, we'd better wake him.
You know what happened last time.
Well, it can't be helped.
He's got to lunch out, anyhow.
- If the balloon goes up, don't blame me. - Yes.
Uh...
I suppose it's of no interest to any of you that I have been awakened
from deep, deep sleep with the lot of you screaming like banshees!
What's going on?
I've been talking to Miss Stillington.
Who the hell is Miss Stillington?
She's in the spare room.
I didn't ask where she was, I asked who she was.
Oh, we might look her up in the telephone book.
She lost her latchkey, if you know what I mean.
- Go away, Fred, and get me some coffee. - Rightyo.
And don't say, "Rightyo".
Very good, sir.
You met her at a party, and you brought her home here,
and you told her about your early struggles, and she stayed the night.
Oh, I remember now. She's a darling. I'm mad about her.
What did you say her name was?
Stillington.
Daphne Stillington.
I knew it was Daphne, but I hadn't the faintest idea it was Stillington.
I hope you were nice to her.
Has anyone given her anything to eat?
Fred took her some coffee and orange juice.
What's she doing now?
I don't know. Drinking it, I suppose.
It's awful, isn't it? What are we to do?
She wants to say goodbye to you and to thank you.
Whatever for?
That, Garry dear, I'm in no position to say.
Why didn't you tell her to dress quietly like a mouse and go home?
You know perfectly well it's agony here in the mornings
with everybody banging about.
Well, you might have thought of that before you asked her to stay the night.
She had to stay the night. She'd lost her latchkey.
The sooner we turn that spare room into a library, the better.
She's probably in there now, sobbing her heart out.
Well, why don't you go and see?
Well, lend me a comb and I will.
Here.
Good God, I look 98!
Never mind.
In two years from now, I shall be bald as a coot,
and then you'll be sorry.
On the contrary, I shall be delighted.
There will be fewer eager, young scunners ready to lose their latchkey for you
when you've got a toupee perched on the top of your head.
I shall never wear a toupee, Monica, however bald I get.
Perhaps on the stage, a little...
...front piece, but in life, never.
I intend to grow old with distinction.
Well, I'm sure that will be a great relief to all of us.
Here's your sordid little comb.
Now, do go and do a nice goodbye scene, and get rid of her as quickly as possible.
We've got to do the morning mail, and Morris might appear at any minute.
And we can't have her littering up the place, getting in everybody's way.
Garry, I thought I heard your voice.
Darling!
Now, Garry, you won't forget, will you,
that at 12:00 noon, you have given an appointment
- to Mr Roland Maule? - No, Monica.
And at 12:30, Morris is coming to discuss what understudies
- you need to take to Africa. - No, Monica.
And immediately after lunch, Mr Roderick is coming
to discuss your special broadcast on the 17th.
Thank you, Monica. I shall remember.
I'm so glad.
Goodbye, Miss Stillington.
I do hope we shall meet again.
Goodbye.
Garry. Oh, Garry!
Darling.
I'm ridiculously happy.
- I'm so glad, darling. - Are you?
- Happy? - Yes.
There's something awfully sad about happiness, isn't there?
What a funny thing to say.
It wasn't supposed to be funny.
I've been in love with you for such a long time.
Don't... Don't say that.
Why? What's the matter?
Don't love me too much, darling.
Promise me you won't. You'll only be unhappy.
No good can come from loving anybody like me.
I'm not worthy of it. Really, I'm not.
You're more worthy of it than anyone in the whole world.
Foolish child.
I'm not a child. I'm twenty-four.
Twenty-four?
Twenty-four!
What does age matter when people love each other?
I wonder how tragically often that's been said.
Well, it's true.
Look at me, Daphne. Look at me kindly.
Clearly and honestly, look at the lines on my face, my thinning hair.
Look at my eyes!
You're not so very old.
I didn't say I was so very old, Daphne.
I just said look at me.
As a matter of fact, I'm only just 40.
- What's 40? - Too old for 24.
You mean you don't love me?
I don't mean any such thing.
Do you love me? Say it. Do you?
- Of course I do. - Say it.
I love you, Daphne.
- Oh, darling... - But this is goodbye!
Goodbye?
It's inevitable. Not for my sake, but for yours.
I don't know what you're talking about.
Listen to me, Daphne. You're not in love with me, the real me.
You're in love with an illusion.
The illusion I gave you when you saw me on the stage.
Last night I ran a terrible risk.
I ran the risk of breaking that dear young illusion forever.
But I didn't, I didn't. It's still there. I can see it in your eyes.
But never again. Never, never again.
That's all I can dare to hope for now, moments...
Like last night. That's why I'm so lonely sometimes.
So desperately, desperately lonely.
But I have learned one bitter lesson in my life,
and that lesson is to be able to say goodbye.
- But, Garry... - Let me go on!
But I really don't see why...
"We meet not as we parted, We feel more than all may see;
"My bosom is heavy-hearted, And thine full of doubt for me:
"One moment has bound the free.
"That moment has gone for ever."
"Like lightning that flashed and died--
"Like a snowflake upon the river--
"Like a sunbeam upon the tide, Which the dark shadows hide."
- Yeah, but, Garry... - Be quiet for a moment, darling.
"That moment from time was singled As the first in a life of pain;
"The cup of its joy was mingled Delusion too sweet though vain!
"Too sweet to be mine again."
There now, that was Shelley. Don't you think it's beautiful?
Yes, but...
There was nothing Shelley didn't know about love.
All the sadness, all the joy, all the unbearable pain...
I don't see why love should be so miserable.
That's because you're young, my darling. Young and eager and greedy for life!
No, you said last night that I was the one you had been searching for always,
and that now you had found me you would never let me go!
That was perfectly true. I shall never let you go.
You shall be here in my heart forever.
- Oh, Garry! - Don't cry!
Darling, please don't cry. I can't bear it.
But how can you say that I'm only in love with an illusion and not the real you at all?
Because it's true!
No, it isn't, it isn't. It was the real you last night.
You weren't on the stage, and you weren't acting.
I'm always acting!
Watching myself go by. That's what's so horrible.
I see myself all the time eating, drinking, loving, suffering.
Sometimes I think I shall go mad!
I could help you if only you'd let me.
If only you could, but it's too late!
No! It isn't, it isn't! I swear it isn't. I'll prove it to you.
Listen to me, Daphne. It isn't that I don't love you, I do.
I knew it the first moment I took you in my arms, last night.
But my life is not my own. I belong to the public.
And to my work.
I'm not free like other men, to take happiness when it comes to them.
In two weeks' time I am going to Africa with a repertory of six plays.
Do you understand what that means?
The work, the drudgery, the nerve strain?
That is my job, the one thing to which I must be faithful.
And when I come back, if I come back...
Oh, Garry!
Just kiss me once, just once and then go...
Au revoir...
Not goodbye, just au revoir.
Do you want your coffee in here or in your bedroom?
Anywhere. Just put it anywhere.
I would have brought it in before, but I 'eard you was doing Shelley.
Thought I'd better wait.
Just put the tray down, Fred, and go away.
Rightyo.
Oh, my God, there's no peace! There's no peace anywhere!
I switched it in here because we've got to do the mail
and I can't keep darting in and out of the office all the time.
Hello, Mr Essendine's secretary speaking...
No, I'm afraid he's not available at the moment.
Is there anything I can do?
No, I'm sorry, that's quite impossible.
Very well. Not at all. Goodbye. Ooh!
- Who was that? - A Mr Bramble.
Never heard of him.
He said you promised to look at his invention.
What sort of an invention?
I haven't the faintest idea.
Fred said I have to go and speak to the young lady.
Very well, Miss Erikson.
- What shall I say to her? - I really don't know.
I have been to the grocer's...
Well, that's as good an opening gambit as any.
Just see that she has everything she wants, Miss Erikson, and turn on a bath for her.
Alas, that I cannot do, the tap makes no water.
- Do the best you can. - I will try.
There's not much this morning, I'll go through them quickly.
This coffee tastes of curry powder.
Ooh! Never mind.
I wish I had a French chef instead of a Scandinavian Spiritualist.
You could never get rid of Miss Erikson - she worships you.
Everybody worships me, it's nauseating.
There's hell to pay if they don't.
What's that blue letter?
Oh, that's Sylvia Laurie.
She says, uh... she simply must see you before you go away.
- Well, she can't. - No.
And there's another from Lady Worrall.
Lunch on Friday or dinner on Tuesday.
- Neither. - Neither.
And you better look at this one yourself. It's from a naval officer in Rugby.
What does he want?
Well, it seems you met him at a dance in Edinburgh
when you were up there with Laughter in Heaven,
and swore to him that if he left the Navy,
you'd give him a job on the stage.
I never said any such thing.
He has left the Navy.
Well, give him some letters of introduction, then. Don't just sit there.
Well, I don't know anything about him, do I?
What does he look like?
Absolutely marvellous.
If it's the one I'm thinking of, vast strapping shoulders
- and tiny, tiny hips. - Ooh!
Like a wasp.
Oh...
Mm...
- Can he act? - How should I know?
Just put it in Mount Pleasant.
We're gonna have to go through Mount Pleasant before you go,
it's overflowing.
Hello, Mr Essendine's secretary speaking...
Oh, Tony...
Um, yes, hold on, Tony. He's just here, Tony.
He wants to know what you thought about the play last night.
Oh, I'll tell him.
Tony...
That was a pretty thing, wasn't it?
What persuaded Laura to do it?
Yes, but it wasn't even a good part, all that turgid nonsense...
And what were they wearing?
Medieval, my foot! They just looked like bananas.
No, I haven't read any of them. I don't read the notices.
Oh, well, if they think all that ramping and roaring is good acting,
I'm thankful I'm going to Africa.
Yes, Tony, about 6:00.
Liz will probably be here, she's coming back today, I think.
All right, darling.
Is Miss Stillington dressed yet?
Yes, but she is crying, which makes her slow.
Oh!
The bath was on the blink.
- You'd better get yourself sorted, Garry. - Well, you'd better come in with me,
we can do the rest of the letters while I'm in the bath.
There's only two more. Oh...
An invitation, uh... from Gertrude Lovat.
She's giving a coming-out dance for that pompous-looking daughter of hers...
- Polite refusal. - Yes.
And rather a sweet one from a troop of boy scouts.
Oh, good God!
Apparently, you're a patron to their dramatic club,
which I have to say I'd completely forgotten,
and they're giving a performance of Laughter in Heaven, blah, blah.
And they want you to send them a message.
All right, just send them one.
Well, what shall I say?
Monica, darling, don't tell me you have arrived at the ripe old age of 89
unable to send a little message of hope to a handful of boy scouts.
Ah!
Uh...
Hello, Mr Essendine's sec...
Oh, Helen.
Uh, yes, Helen, he's here, but he's just gone to his bath.
Today?
I thought you weren't going until the end of the week.
- Hello, Miss Erikson. - Yes, of course.
- Is everybody in? - He's not lunching until half-past.
- Yes, all right, Helen. Yes, I'll tell him. - Some bread... from Paris.
Good morning, Monica dear.
Liz! We didn't expect you back until tonight.
I came over on the plane, loaded with gifts like an Eastern potentate.
- Here's one for you. - Oh, how lovely!
It's a bottle of scent and very expensive.
Oh, thanks ever so much, Liz, you're a darling.
- What's God up to? - He's in the bath.
I've brought him a dressing gown.
Oh, how thoughtful. He's only got 18.
Don't be acid, Monica.
You know he loves peacocking about in something new.
This looks wonderful, Liz. I shan't open it properly until I get home.
Miss Erikson looked more peculiar than ever this morning.
Is her spiritualism getting worse?
Well, she got in touch with a dead friend at a séance on Saturday,
and all he said was, "No, No, No".
And, "Christmas Day"!
It upset her very much.
This damned thing never stops!
Hello, Mr Essendine's...
Oh, Morris?
Uh, yes, he's here, Morris, but he's just gone to his bath.
But Liz is here if you want to talk to her.
Yes, I know. She's just arrived this very minute.
Good morning, Morris darling.
No, on the plane.
Yes, I saw the play twice.
We shall have to alter the end for England, but I talked to Vallion,
and he didn't seem to mind what happened, as long as Garry played it.
I told him your idea about Janet playing Eloise,
and he said that although he knew she was a formidable actress,
he'd rather someone who looked less like a guinea pig.
No, he said it in French. Cochon d'Inde.
Quite literally, pig of India.
No, he's a very sweet little man, and I adore him.
I'll come to the office directly after lunch, yes. All right.
Good morning, Miss.
Hello, Fred, how's everything?
Bit of a lash-up, Miss, as usual.
Do you think I could have a cup of coffee? I feel a sinking.
- Rightyo, Miss. - Oh, bring me one too, please, Fred.
It's very resolute of Fred to go on calling me "Miss".
- Isn't it? - Yes.
I think he has this sort of idea that when you gave up being Garry's wife,
you automatically reverted to maidenhood.
It's a very pretty thought.
I beg your pardon.
Oh, I'm most awfully sorry about the bath, Miss Stillington.
Didn't matter a bit.
This is Mrs Essendine, Miss Stillington.
Oh!
How do you do?
Mrs Essendine. You mean...
I mean...
- Are you Garry's wife? - Yes.
- Oh, I thought he was divorced. - We never quite got round to it.
- Oh, I see. - But please don't look agitated.
I upped and left him years ago.
Miss Stillington lost her latchkey last night...
...so she stayed in the spare room, obviously.
Oh, you poor dear. You must be absolutely congealed.
Do you think I could get a taxi?
- Oh, yes, I'll ring up for one. - Oh, no, don't do that.
My car's downstairs, it can take you wherever you want to go.
That's most awfully kind of you.
Not at all. The chauffeur's got bright red hair,
and his name's Frobisher. You can't miss him.
Thanks ever so much, if you're sure it's not inconvenient?
Not in the least. Just tell him to come straight back here after he's dropped you.
Oh, yes, of course. I will.
Thank you. Goodbye.
Goodbye.
I do hope you haven't caught a cold.
No, I don't think so. Goodbye.
- I'll see you out. - Oh, please, don't trouble.
No trouble at all.
- Do you want anything with it, Miss? - No, thank you, Fred, just the coffee.
I'll tell his nibs you're here. I don't think he knows.
Thank you, Fred.
Oh...
Has that been going on long or is it new?
Quite new.
I found it flitting around first thing in its wings.
Very discouraging.
Yes.
Oh...
Do you know, Liz,
I really think it's time we all went for Garry again,
if only out of consideration for Africa.
He's not really nearly as flamboyant as he pretends to be,
he's just incapable of saying "no" or "goodbye".
Oh, he says goodbye often enough,
he just always manages to give the impression
that he doesn't really mean it.
I'll have a go at him.
Well, if you think a big scene's necessary, we can get Morris and Helen, as well,
have a real rouser the night before he sails.
It's generally more effective when we all do it together.
Morris is awfully hysterical these days,
and Helen's not nearly so reliable since she married Joe.
Do you like him?
Joe?
He's a handsome creature, but tricky.
Yes, I think I like him all right.
I don't.
You never would, darling, he's not your cup of tea at all.
- Who isn't? - Joe. Helen's Joe.
He's all right, bit predatory perhaps.
But then as far as I can see, everyone's a bit predatory
in some form or another.
- I shall give it up for Lent. - Hello, darling, welcome back.
- Where's my present? - It's over there.
It's not another glass horse, is it?
No, it's a dressing gown.
Oh...!
How wonderful!
It's nice and thin, and highly suitable for Africa.
Just what I wanted.
Thank you, darling. It's absolutely charming.
I'm mad about it.
Helen rang up. She's going to Brussels this afternoon,
and she's coming in to see you before she goes.
- All right. - With Morris, too, I think.
Well, go away then, Monica.
I must talk to Garry before Morris gets here, it's important.
Well, you better be quick because that Mr Maule's gonna be here any minute.
- Who's he? - Och, you know perfectly well.
He's the young man who wrote that mad play half in verse
and caught you on the telephone,
and you were so busy being attractive and unspoiled by your great success
that you promised him an appointment.
Well, I can't see him.
You ought to protect me from things like that.
You must see him, he's coming all the way from Uckfield.
And it serves you right
for snatching the telephone away from me when I wasn't looking.
I've noticed a great change in you lately, Monica.
I don't know whether it's because you've given up cramming yourself with potatoes
or what it is,
but you're getting nastier and nastier
with every day that passes.
Go away.
I'm going.
- Who gave you that? - Liz.
Most unsuitable.
If you want me, Garry, I shall be in the office.
Of course you'll be in the office,
spinning awful plots and intrigues against me.
- I will if I can think of any. - Go away, go away.
Oh, Liz, do try and persuade him to have some electric treatments on his hair -
it's getting terribly thin!
And switch the telephone off!
All right!
- Now then, tell me everything. - I saw the play.
- It was good? - Yes, very.
We shall have to change it a bit,
but Vallion is quite willing to let us do what we like.
But I don't want to go on about it now until I've mulled it over a little more.
I'm seeing Morris after lunch.
Well, I've told him I can't open till November.
I must have a holiday after Africa.
And it depends on what theatre we get.
Now then, I want to talk to you about something else.
I don't like that tone at all. What's on your mind?
You. Your general behaviour.
Liz, really, what have I done now?
Don't you think it's time you started to relax?
What on earth are you talking about?
Who was that poor little creature I saw here this morning in fancy dress?
She'd lost her latchkey!
- They often do! - Now listen to me, Liz...
- You're over forty, you know. - Only just.
And in my humble opinion,
all this casual scampering about on to anything on two legs is rather undignified.
Scampering indeed.
You have a genius for putting things unpleasantly.
Don't misunderstand me, I'm not taking a moral view.
I gave that up as hopeless years ago.
I'm merely basing my little homily on reason, dignity, position,
and, let's face it, age.
Perhaps you'd like me to live in a bath chair!
It would certainly have its compensations.
It's all very well for you to come roaring back from Paris
where you've been up to God knows what and start to bully me...
- I'm not bullying you. - Yes, you are.
You're sitting there, smug as be damned on your awful little cloud
- blowing down on me. - Don't bluster.
Who deserted me and left me prey to everybody in the first place?
Answer me that!
- I did, thank God. - Well then.
Well, would you have liked me to have stayed?
Certainly not, you drove me mad.
Well, stop shilly-shallying about, then, and pay attention.
This, to date, is the most irritating morning of my life.
I can remember better ones.
Where were we?
Be good. There's a darling, I mean it.
- Mean what? - Exactly this.
You have reached a moment in life when a little restraint would be becoming.
You are no longer a debonair, irresponsible juvenile.
You are an eminent man
advancing, with every sign of reluctance, into middle age.
May God forgive you.
Never mind about that.
Listen, we all know about your irresistible charm.
We've watched it going on monotonously for twenty years.
I met you for the first time exactly eleven years ago next August,
and you were wearing a very silly hat.
Will you be serious?
Your behaviour naturally affects all of us.
Morris, Helen, Monica and me.
You're responsible for us, and we are responsible for you.
You're fine when dealing with other people's problems,
but when it comes to your own, you're not so hot.
Of all the base ingratitude!
I think the time has come for you to look very carefully at yourself
and see how much you really need all this buccaneering.
Buccaneering? What have you been reading?
Think what fun it would be to be unattractive for a minute or two.
Why, you might take to it like a duck to water,
and honestly, it would be a wonderful change.
Darling Liz.
You really are very sweet.
Oh, dear, I might just as well have been talking Chinese.
Oh, don't be cross, Liz darling.
I do see what you mean, I do.
Honestly, I do, I do.
Well, that's rather sudden, isn't it?
After your belligerence a few moments ago?
Well, surely, I may be allowed a little change of mood?
You're acting again!
Seriously, though, don't you think you've been a little harsh on me?
I admit I'm a trifle feckless every now and then,
but I really don't do any harm to anybody.
You do harm to yourself and to the few...
Well, the very few, who really mind about you.
I suppose you've discussed all this with Monica and Helen and Morris?
No, I haven't yet, but I will unless I see some signs of improvement.
- Oh, blackmail, huh? - Why not?
The thing that fascinates me in life is people's arrogance.
It's fantastic.
Look at you all. Gossiping in corners, whispering behind fans,
telling me what to do, what not to do.
It's downright sauce, that's what it is.
What happens if I release my loving hold on any of you for a minute?
Disaster!
I happen to go to New York to play a three-month season.
Helen immediately gets pneumonia, goes to Portofino to recover,
meets Joe and marries him!
I have a brief holiday to St Tropez for a month in 1937,
and when I come back, what do I discover?
You and Morris between you have bought the dullest Hungarian play ever written
and put it into rehearsals with Phoebe Lucas in the leading part.
Phoebe Lucas as a glamorous courtesan...
...with about as much sex appeal as a haddock!
How long did it last?
One week!
And that was only because the press said it was lascivious.
- Isn't all this a little beside the point? - Certainly not.
Twenty years ago, Helen put all her money into The Lost Cavalier.
And who played it for eighteen months to capacity with extra matinées?
I did.
And who started his entire career as a producer on that play?
Morris!
I wish you'd stop asking questions and answering them yourself.
It's making me giddy.
Where would you all be if it wasn't for me?
Where would Monica be if I hadn't snatched her away
from that sinister old aunt of hers and given her a job?
With the sinister old aunt.
And you! One of the most depressing, melancholy actresses on the English stage.
Where would you be if I hadn't forced you to stop acting and start writing?
- Probably acting. - Good God, I even had to marry you to do it.
Oh, and a fine gesture that turned out to be.
Well, I was in love with you longer than I was with anybody else, you can't grumble.
I never grumbled.
I believe in going through any experience, however shattering.
You adored me. You know you did.
I still do, darling.
You're so chivalrous, rubbing it in how dependent we all are on you
- for every breath we take. - I didn't say that.
You're just as dependent on us, anyway, now.
We stop you being extravagant and buying houses every five minutes.
We stopped you, in the nick of time, from playing Peer Gynt.
I still maintain I should have been magnificent as Peer Gynt.
But above all, we stop you from overacting.
You have gone too far now, Liz.
I think you'd better go away somewhere.
Oh, but I've only just come back.
Monica! Monica! Come here at once.
What on earth's the matter?
Have you or have you not ever seen me overact?
Frequently.
It's a conspiracy! I knew it!
As a matter of fact, you're overacting now.
Oh, very well, I give in, everybody is against me.
It doesn't matter about me. Oh, no, I'm only the breadwinner.
It doesn't matter how much I'm wounded and insulted!
It doesn't matter how much my timorous belief in myself is subtly undermined.
Your belief in yourself is about as timorous as Napoleon's.
And look what happened to him. He died forsaken and alone
on a beastly little island in the middle of the sea.
Islands have that in common.
You're trying to be funny now because you're ashamed.
You're ashamed because you know perfectly well
that you've hurt me unbearably.
I doubt if any of you would care a fig if I were exiled forever tomorrow.
You'd probably be delighted.
I expect that's why I'm being forced to go to Africa.
- You are longing to go, and you know it! - Forced! Forced!
But, oh, darling, do be careful when you're there for heaven's sake,
and don't go having affairs with everybody
and showing off and letting down the whole thing.
I shall live like a monk.
I shall spend my entire time there in a sad, grey, dilapidated hotel, all by myself,
and I won't speak to a living soul,
and if I die of melancholia, perhaps you'll all be satisfied.
Now then, about Morris. I want you to concentrate for a minute.
How can I concentrate?
You come here, and you say the most awful things to me,
and then say calmly, "Now then, about Morris", as if you'd been discussing the weather.
- I'm very worried. - Serves you right.
About Morris!
What about Morris? What's wrong with him?
Well, I'm not definitely sure that anything is, really,
but I've heard things.
What things?
- It's Joe. - Joe?
Apparently, Morris is in love with him.
I don't know how far it's gone, or any details,
but I do know that if it's true, something ought to be done about it
before Helen finds out.
Morris and Joe! Who told you?
Bobbie first, when we were driving out from Versailles,
but I didn't pay much attention to that,
because we all know he's the world's worst mischief maker anyhow.
But then about two nights later, Louise tackled me about him in Maxim's.
And you know how she adores Helen.
Does Helen suspect anything?
I don't think so, but then she never would, would she?
Until it was shoved under her nose.
She ought never to have married Joe. I always said it was a grave mistake.
He's dangerous, all right.
I've always run a mile from him.
Morris! He couldn't be such a fool, could he?
I had a feeling something was wrong.
Oh, God, just when I'm going to Africa and everything.
This might just bust up the whole firm.
If Helen finds out, it certainly will.
What are we to do?
Well, you'd better first of all find out from Morris whether it's true or not,
and if it is, how far it's gone, and then read the riot act and get him away.
Take him with you to Africa - anything!
Oh, God!
That beastly young man from Uckfield. I can't face him.
It might not be the young man at all, it might be Morris.
To hell with Morris. To hell with everybody.
Don't be idiotic. You know as well as I do that if there is any truth in this Joe business,
it'll land us all in the most sordid complications
and probably wreck everything.
You have got to find out.
And if you don't, I shall. I'm seeing him at 2:30.
Well, he's not gonna tell you anything.
He'll only fly into a rage and tell you to mind your own business.
I shall be in until 1:15. Telephone me when he's gone.
He won't go, I'm lunching with him.
I can't give you a detailed report of his love life over the telephone
with him still in the room.
Well, dial my number by mistake and just say, "Sorry, it's a wrong number",
- and then I shall know. - What will you know?
That everything's all right.
But if you say, "I'm so terribly sorry, it's a wrong number",
I shall know that everything's all wrong and be round in a flash to back you up.
Intrigue!
My whole existence is enmeshed in intrigue.
Have you got that clear?
"Sorry, it's a wrong number", everything all right.
"So terribly sorry, it's a wrong number", everything all wrong.
Yes.
I'll tell you another fascinating thing about my life if you're interested.
Nobody, under any circumstances,
ever answers a doorbell in under half an hour.
Fred, Miss Erikson...
Will you promise to do it?
Miss Erikson, the front doorbell has been pealing incessantly for twenty minutes.
Alas, yes, but there's a woman at the back door with a tiny baby.
- What does she want? - I do not know, there was no time to ask her.
Monica! Monica!
There's a woman at the back door with a tiny baby!
- What does she want? - That can only be discovered by asking her.
Kindly do so.
There's no need to snap at me.
I'm going now. Remember, I shall be in until I hear from you.
- Mr Maule. - How do you do?
- This is my wife, Mr Maule.
She's just popped in for a minute, she's about to pop out again.
I know you have an appointment with Garry, and I wouldn't interrupt it for the world,
- so I'll say goodbye. - Bye.
Don't forget, I'll be sitting by the telephone.
Yes, all right. Do sit down.
Thank you.
Cigarette?
Uh... no. No, thank you.
- Don't you smoke? - No.
- Drink? - No, thank you.
How old are you?
Twenty-five, why?
No reason. Just wondered.
Well, how old are you?
Forty in December.
Jupiter, you know, very energetic.
Yes, of course, yeah.
So, you've come all the way from Uckfield?
- Isn't very far. - It sort of sounds far, doesn't it?
It's quite near Lewes.
Then there's nothing to worry about, is there?
It's a sweet wee thing, but it looks far from well.
- What did she want? - Her sister.
Well, we haven't got her.
Oh, she lives two doors down in the Mews, it was all a mistake.
How do you do?
This is my secretary, Miss Reed, Mr Maule.
I have got your script in the office if you want to take it away with you.
- Thank you very much. - I'll put it in an envelope.
So, I want to talk to you about your play.
Well, I expect you hated it.
Well, to be candid, I thought it was a little uneven.
Yeah, I thought you'd say that.
I'm glad I'm running so true to form.
Well, I mean, it really isn't the sort of thing you would like, is it?
In that case, why did you send it to me?
I just took a chance.
I mean, I know you only play rather trashy stuff as a rule...
Um...
And I... I thought you just might like to have a shot at something deeper.
And what is it in your play, Mr Maule, that you consider so deep?
Apart from the plot, which is completely submerged
after the first four pages.
Plots aren't important, it's ideas that matter. Look at Chekhov.
In addition to ideas,
I think we might concede Chekhov a certain flimsy sense of psychology, don't you?
You mean, my play isn't psychologically accurate?
It isn't very good.
You know?
Really, it isn't.
I think it's very good indeed.
I understand that perfectly, but you must admit that my opinion,
based on a lifelong experience of the theatre, might be the right one.
- The commercial theatre. - Oh, dear.
I suppose you'll say that Shakespeare wrote for the commercial theatre,
and that the only point of doing anything with the drama at all is to make money.
All those old arguments.
What you don't realise is that the theatre of the future is the theatre of ideas.
That may be, but currently I'm occupied with the theatre of the present.
What do you do with it? Every play you appear in is exactly the same,
superficial, frivolous and without the slightest intellectual significance.
You have a great following and a strong personality,
and all you do is prostitute yourself every night of your life.
All you do with your talent is to wear dressing gowns
and make witty remarks
when you might be really helping people, making them think. Making them feel!
There can be no two opinions. I'm having a most discouraging morning.
If you want to live in people's memories, to go down to posterity as an important man,
you'd better do something about it quickly.
There isn't a moment to be lost!
I don't give a hoot about posterity!
Why should I worry about what people think about me
when I'm dead as a doornail, anyhow?
My worst defect is that I am apt to care too much
about what they think about me when I'm alive.
But I'm not going to do that anymore. I'm changing my methods,
and you're my first experiment.
As a rule, when insufferable young beginners have the impertinence to criticise me,
I dismiss the whole thing lightly because I'm embarrassed for them
and consider it not quite fair game
to puncture their inflated egos quite too sharply.
But this time, my highbrow young friend, you're going to get it in the neck.
To begin with, your play is not a play at all.
It's a meaningless jumble of adolescent, pseudo-intellectual poppycock.
It bears no relation to the theatre or to life or to anything, really.
And you yourself wouldn't be here at all
if I hadn't been bloody fool enough to pick up the telephone
when my secretary wasn't looking.
Now that you are here, however, I want to tell you this.
If you wish to be a playwright,
then just leave the theatre of tomorrow to take care of itself.
Go and get yourself a job as a butler in a repertory company if they'll have you.
Learn from the ground up how plays are constructed
and what is actable and what isn't.
Then sit down and write at least twenty plays, one after the other,
and if you can get the twenty-first produced for a Sunday night performance,
you'll be damned lucky.
I'd no idea you were like this. You're wonderful.
Oh, my God!
No, I'm awfully sorry if you think that I was impertinent,
but I'm awfully glad, too, because if I hadn't been,
you wouldn't have got angry,
and if you hadn't got angry, then I wouldn't have known what you were really like.
You don't know in the least what I'm really like.
- Oh, yes, I do now. - I don't see how it matters anyhow.
- It matters to me. - Why?
- Do you really want to know? - What on earth are you talking about?
- It's rather difficult to explain, really. - What is?
- What I feel about you. - Yes...
Just, please... Just...
Just let me speak.
You see, in a way, I've been rather unhappy about you
for quite a long time.
Although, you've been a sort of obsession with me.
I saw you in your last play forty-seven times.
In one week.
I came every night...
...in the pit
because I was up in town trying to pass an exam.
Did you pass it?
No, I didn't.
I'm not entirely surprised.
My, um... My father wants me to be a lawyer.
A lawyer, that's what the exam was for.
But, um... actually, I've been studying psychology a great deal,
because I felt somehow that I wasn't at peace with myself,
and gradually, bit by bit, I began to realise...
...you signified something to me.
What sort of something?
I... I...
I don't quite know.
Not yet.
That "not yet" is the most sinister remark I've ever heard in my life.
No, don't laugh at me, please.
I'm always sick if anyone laughs at me.
You really are the most peculiar young man.
- I'm all right now. I feel fine. - I'm delighted.
Um...
Can I...
Can I come and see you again?
I'm afraid I'm going to Africa.
Would you see me if I came to Africa, too?
I really think you'd be happier in Uckfield.
I expect you think I'm mad,
but I'm not, really.
I just mind deeply about certain things.
But I feel much better now,
because I think I shall be able to sublimate you all right.
Sublimate me?
Yeah.
Good.
Now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to turn you out,
because I'm expecting my manager, and we do have a great deal to discuss.
- It's all right. I'm going immediately. - Shall I get you your script?
No, no, no. Tear it up. You were quite right about it.
It was only written with a part of myself. I can see that now.
- Goodbye. - Goodbye.
Ha! Ooh...
Monica...!
Has he gone?
If that young man ever rings up again,
get rid of him at all costs.
He's mad as a hatter.
Why, what did he do?
He started by insulting me, and he finished by sublimating me.
Oh!
You poor dear.
You look quite shattered.
Have a glass of sherry.
Those are the first kind words I've heard this morning.
I think I'll have a wee nip, too.
Oh, God!
That's Morris. What time is it?
Twenty to one. Here. I'll let him in.
It's all right, Miss Erikson. Miss Reed has gone to the door.
Thank you.
M'wah! Darling!
There's a strange young man sitting by the lift.
- What's he doing? - Crying.
- What have you been up to, Garry? - I haven't been up to anything.
I merely told him what I thought of his play.
M'wah! Glad to see you haven't lost your touch.
- Sherry, Morris? - Yes, thanks.
Helen?
Is it the same sherry that you always have?
Yes.
No, thank you.
Why not? What's the matter with it?
Nothing much, it's just not very nice.
Yeah, she's quite right, it's disgusting.
If anybody complains about anything else, I shall go out of my mind.
This studio's been like a wailing wall all morning.
What's the matter with him, Monica?
Oh, Liz was just here, and she went for him a bit,
and then I told him he overacted.
He really has had rather a beastly time.
And then that curious young man, on top of everything.
Well, never mind, Garry, God's in His Heaven, and all's right with the world.
I've got some lovely bad news for you.
- Why, what's wrong? - Nora Fenwick can't come to Africa.
Why not? What's the matter with her?
- She's broken her leg. - Oh, wow, really?
It isn't actually so terribly important.
Oh, no, Helen, it couldn't matter less!
It only means that I have to spend the entire voyage out there
rehearsing a new woman in in six different character parts!
How did the silly fool do it?
She fell down at Victoria Station.
Well, she had no right to be at Victoria Station.
Who do we get?
Morris wants Beryl Willard, but I don't think she's quite right.
So, Morris wants Beryl Willard, does he?
Why not? She's extremely competent.
I agree. I quite agree.
Beryl Willard is extremely competent.
She has been extremely competent,
man and boy, for well over forty years.
In addition to her extreme competence,
she has managed to sustain a spotless reputation
for being the most paralysing, epoch-making,
monumental, earth-shattering,
God-awful bore that ever drew breath!
Now, really, Garry, I don't see...
You don't see? Very well, I shall explain further.
Just one thing, and it's this.
No prayer, no bribe, no threat,
no power, human or divine,
would induce me...
...to go to Africa...
...with Beryl Willard.
I wouldn't go as far as Wimbledon...
...with Beryl Willard.
What he's trying to say is that he doesn't care for Beryl Willard.
All right, all right, she's out. Whom do you suggest?
Just a minute, if you're gonna start one of those casting arguments, I'm going.
I've got to catch a plane for Brussels.
I only wanted to let you know that you can't have the Mayfair Theatre
- for the French play in the autumn. - Why not?
Because Robert's got it for the whole season, starting in September.
Why did you let him? You knew I wanted it.
The Forum's much nicer, anyhow, and the capacity's bigger.
It's a conspiracy.
You've both of you have been trying to get me into that underheated morgue for years.
It's been done up and redecorated.
It'll have to be rebuilt brick by brick before I set foot in it.
Arrange it later, will you, Morris?
He's obviously in one of his states this morning. I can't stop now.
What are you going to Brussels for, anyhow?
Business. Nice, ordinary, straightforward business.
Nothing to do with the theatre at all. I can't wait to get there.
Mm... M'wah!
Goodbye, sweetie.
Try to be a little more amiable when I get back.
Goodbye, Monica. Goodbye, Morris.
Oh... by the way, you might call up Joe. He's all alone.
I have. I'm taking him to the opening at the Haymarket tomorrow night.
Fine. Goodbye.
- Do you want me anymore? - Why, where are you going?
I'm going to write to Beryl Willard and ask her to come and live with you.
So, you're taking Joe to the Haymarket tomorrow night, are you?
- Yes, why? - Why not?
Why not, indeed?
I think I shall come, too.
All right, that'll be grand. I've got a box, there's plenty of room.
Why have you been so mournful lately?
I haven't been in the least mournful.
Yes, you have. Liz has noticed it, and so have I.
Well, you're both quite wrong. I'm perfectly happy.
Oh, Morris.
- What? - You like Joe, don't you?
Of course I do, he's a sweetheart.
I wouldn't call him a sweetheart exactly,
but then I don't see very much of him. I gather you do.
What are you getting at?
- People are talking, Morris. - What about?
About you and Joe. Are you in love with him?
In love with Joe? Of course I'm not.
Are you preparing to be?
I can usually tell when you're about to embark on one of your emotional rampages.
Well, I like that, I must say. What about you?
Never mind about me for a moment.
Look at Tristan Fleming. Hmm?
You carried on like a maniac over him for weeks.
- All that sobbing and screaming. - That was years ago.
Never mind when it was. It was!
And if that wasn't emotional, I should like to know what is.
You wore us all to shreds!
I notice you've turned this conversation very adroitly into an attack on me.
- Now, listen, Garry... - Do you swear
that you haven't had an affair with Joe?
- I'm not gonna be cross-questioned like this. - Have you or haven't you?
Mind your own business!
My God, if this isn't my business, then nothing is.
If you're fooling about with Joe and Helen finds out,
do you understand what that means?
I refuse to go on with this conversation.
You can refuse until you're blue in the face, you're going to listen to me.
- No, I'm not. - So, it's true then, is it?
- Leave me alone. - Sit down! This really is serious.
I've no intention of submitting to one of your finger-wagging tirades.
I'm sick to death of them.
Well, years ago, Morris, very many years ago,
before you were so sick to death of them,
you may as well just admit that they helped you considerably.
Of course I admit it. So what?
We've never lied to each other about anything truly vital to us, have we?
- No. - And it would be really rather foolish,
after all these turbulent years, to start now, wouldn't it?
All right.
All right, but nobody has as far as I can see.
I'm not gonna ask you any more questions.
I'm not even going to shout at you...
...much.
But that all depends on whether or not you annoy me.
I am, however, going to make you see one thing clearly,
and that one thing is this.
You and Helen and Monica and Liz and I
share something of inestimable importance,
and that something is mutual respect...
...and trust.
God knows it's been hard won.
But now, now that we're all middle-aged...
...we can admit with a certain mellow tranquillity
that it's been worth it.
Here we are, five people closely woven together
through work and affection and...
...intimate knowledge of one other.
It's too important a setup to risk breaking
for any outside emotional reason whatsoever.
Joe is alien to us.
He doesn't really belong to us, and he never could.
But don't for a minute think
that he isn't a potential danger, because he is!
He's exceedingly attractive,
and ruthless in the pursuit of anything he wants.
If he could succeed in wreaking havoc amongst all of us,
I'm quite sure he would leave no stone unturned.
So, all I implore you is this.
- Be careful! - Now, Garry...
You don't have to say anything.
Just...
...be careful.
Is that clear?
- Clear. - Good.
I think I will have a little sherry.
Get me one. I need it.
Oh, God, is that the time?
I forgot to telephone the restaurant and make a reservation.
There's no need, we can always eat at the bar.
It'll only take a minute.
Oh, hello, I'm sorry,
it's the wrong number!
♪ Baby, can't you see
♪ I'm calling
♪ A girl like you should wear a warning
♪ It's dangerous
♪ I'm falling
♪ With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride
♪ Got spinning 'round and 'round and 'round
♪ Toxic, toxic
♪ With a taste of a poison paradise
♪ Got spinning 'round and 'round
♪ 'Round and 'round and 'round
♪ With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride
♪ Got spinning 'round and 'round and 'round
♪ Toxic, toxic
♪ With a taste of a poison paradise
♪ Got spinning 'round and 'round
♪ 'Round and 'round and 'round
♪ Ooh-hoo ♪
I'm off now. You got everything you want?
You're very dressy, Fred. Where are you off to?
- Tagani's. - Where's that?
Tottenham Court Road.
Is it a night club, or a dance hall, or what?
Uh... Bit of all sorts, really.
- Doris works there. - What does she do?
She sings a couple of numbers,
and she does a dance with a skipping rope.
- I see. - I think it's a bit wet if you ask me.
Still, it goes down all right.
Are you going to marry Doris?
Marry? No, thank you.
You really are dreadfully immoral, Fred.
That's right.
I know for a fact you've been taking advantage of Doris
for well over two years now.
Why not?
She likes it, I like it, good time's had by all.
Do you really mind about her at all?
I mean, do you ever think about her when she's not there?
Well, she always is there.
What's she gonna do when we go to Africa?
Oh, she'll manage.
She's got a couple of blokes running round after her now.
Quite posh, one of 'em is. He's in the silk business.
Oh, I see, she's...
...communal.
Mm...
Will you ring in the morning as usual, or do you want to be called?
I'll ring. Has Miss Erikson gone home?
Yes. She had a come over about six o'clock and 'opped it.
She's gone to her mate in Hammersmith.
She told me they turn off all the lights, play the gramophone, and talk to dead people.
I suppose if it makes her happy, that's all right.
She's a good worker,
even if she's a bit scatty, but you can't have everything, can ya?
- Will that be all? - That's everything, Fred. Thanks.
- Enjoy yourself. - Same to you.
Be good.
'Ello? Who's that speaking?
Nah... Oh, hello, Liz.
Yes, darling, I'm quite alone.
I've turned over a new leaf, hadn't you heard?
Yes, with both of them last night,
and I dined with them afterwards at the Savoy,
and Morris and I dropped Joe home.
No, I didn't go on about it anymore, I thought it wiser not.
You sound a little sceptical.
No, as a matter of fact, he was rather charming.
He's quite intelligent, you know,
and I must say he is a permanent pleasure on the eye.
All right? Yes, darling, I'm going straight to bed now.
Good ni...
Good night.
Uh...
I can't tell you how relieved I am that you're in.
- I've done the most idiotic thing. - Why, what's happened?
I've forgotten my latchkey.
Oh, Joe.
It's no good looking at me like that.
I'm not in the least inefficient as a rule.
This is the first time I've ever done such a thing in my life.
I'm in an absolute fury.
I had to dress in the most awful rush to dine with Freda
and go to the Toscanini concert,
and I left it in my other jacket.
Would you like a drink?
Very much indeed. I'm exhausted.
We must decide what's best to be done.
I went to a phone box, and I rang up Liz,
but she must be out, because there wasn't any reply.
You rang up Liz, and there wasn't any reply?
Yes.
And as I hadn't any more change...
...and the taxi man hadn't either, I came straight here.
I see.
Here you are.
- Thank you. - Cigarette?
Thank you.
You're looking very whimsical. Don't you believe me?
Of course I believe you, Joe...
Why on earth shouldn't I believe you?
Oh, I don't know.
You always look at me as though you didn't trust me an inch.
It's a shame because I'm so nice, really.
I'm sure you are.
You've never liked me, really, have you?
No, not particularly.
I wonder why.
I always had a feeling that you were rather tiresome.
In what way, "tiresome"?
I don't know. There's a certain arrogance about you,
a little too much self-assurance.
You don't care for competition, I see.
You're very good-looking, of course. I've always thought that.
- Thank you. - If perhaps a little too aware of it.
Mm.
Now, you are being conventionally odious,
but somehow it doesn't quite ring true.
But then you never do quite ring true, do you?
I expect it's because you're an actor.
They're always apt to be a bit papier mâché.
Oh, just puppets, Joe darling,
creatures of tinsel and sawdust, how clever of you to have noticed it.
I wish you'd stop being suave, just for one minute.
What would you like me to do, fly into a tantrum? Burst into tears?
I think I should like you to be kind.
- Kind? - Yes.
At least kind enough to make an effort
to overcome your perfectly obvious prejudice against me.
I'm sorry it's so obvious.
Well, I am not quite an idiot.
Although I must say you always treat me as if I were.
I know you resented me marrying Helen, you all did,
and I entirely see why you should have, anyhow at first.
But after all, that was five years ago,
and during that time, I have done my best not to obtrude myself,
not to encroach on any special preserves.
And my reward, it's been rather meagre, from you particularly.
Nothing but artificial politeness and slightly frigid tolerance.
Oh, poor Joe.
I see my appeal has fallen on stony ground. I am so sorry.
What is all this? What are you up to?
- I'm not up to anything. - Then sit down again.
I'd like you to call me a taxi.
Nonsense! There's nothing you'd hate more.
You came here for a purpose.
Of course I did. I lost my key.
- I knew you had a spare room, and... - Yes?
I wanted to get to know you a little better.
- I see. - No, you don't.
I know exactly what you think.
Of course, I can't altogether blame you.
In your position as one of the world's most famous romantic comedians,
it's only natural that you should imagine
that every person is anxious to hurl themselves at your head.
I'm sure, for instance, you don't believe for a moment that I lost my latchkey.
You're good. My God, you're good.
What is the number of the taxi rank? I will ring up myself.
Sloane 2-6-6-4.
Hello, Sloane 2-6-6-4.
I'm so sorry, it's the wrong number.
- What you are laughing at? - You, Joe.
You're enjoying yourself enormously, aren't you?
- All right, you win. - Don't be so infuriating.
- Have another drink? - No, thank you.
- A cigarette? Please, I'm sorry. - No.
- I wish you were really sorry. - Maybe I am.
Oh, dear.
Conversation seems to have come to a standstill.
I think, perhaps, I would like another drink after all.
A very small one.
You make me feel extraordinarily self-conscious.
Of course, that's one of your most renowned gifts, isn't it? Frightening people.
You're not gonna pretend that I frighten you, are you?
It's personality, I expect,
plus a reputation for being, well, rather ruthless.
- Amorously or socially? - Both.
- How are we doing? - Better, I think.
You look strangely young every now and then.
It would be nice to know what you were really like
under all the trappings.
Just a lost boy...
...stinking with idealism.
Are you happy on the whole?
Ecstatically.
Why, you never get tired of fixing people's lives,
of being the boss, of everybody adoring you and obeying you?
Never. I revel in it.
I'm not so sure.
What should we do now?
Do? Is there any necessity to do anything?
I don't know, my social sense tells me that something is required.
Not quite sure what it is.
What do you want?
I want you to be what I believe you really are.
Friendly and genuine, someone to be trusted.
I want you to do me the honour of stopping your eternal performance for a little,
ring down the curtain, take off your make-up and relax.
Everyone keeps telling me to relax.
Why are you so afraid of being vulnerable?
- I was right about you from the start. - Oh, were you?
- You're as predatory as hell! - Garry!
You got poor Helen when she was convalescent,
you made a dead set at Morris,
and now, by God, you're after me!
Don't deny it, I can see it in your eyes.
You suddenly appear out of the night reeking with the lust of conquest,
the whole atmosphere is quivering with it!
You want to know what I'm really like, do you, under all the glittering veneer?
Well, this is it. This is what I'm like. Fundamentally honest!
I know you, Joe. I know what you're after.
I can see through every trick. So, just go away and leave me alone!
- And curtain! - Dammit, there isn't any more ice!
- Well, take it neat, darling. - How dare you call me "darling"?
Because I think you are a darling. I always have.
Will you please leave this house immediately?
You are really the reason I married Helen.
Are there no depths to which you won't descend?
No, absolutely none. I am in love with you.
I've been in love with you for over seven years now.
It's high time something was done about it.
- Now listen to me, Joe... - No, you better listen to me first.
I shall do no such thing.
You must, it's terribly important to all of us. Sit down.
I'd rather walk around if you don't mind.
Sit down, Garry, please sit down.
I have to explain, and I can't if you're whirling about all the time.
This is dreadful!
First of all, I want you to promise me
to answer one question absolutely truthfully, will you?
- What is it? - Will you promise?
Yes, all right, go on.
If you had never seen me in your life before,
if we had met for the first time tonight,
if I were in no way concerned with anyone you know...
...would we have made love?
Would you have wanted me?
- Yes. - Well, that's that. Now then...
No, sit down!
Now, when I said just now that you were really the reason I married Helen,
that was only partly true.
I'm devoted to Helen.
I'm much fonder of her, really, than she is of me.
She was madly in love with me for the first two years, but she isn't now.
She's been likely unfaithful to me eleven times,
to my certain knowledge, during the last three years.
She's probably having a high old time in Brussels at this very moment.
- You are lying, Joe. - No, I'm not lying.
I don't mind enough to lie.
Helen is a darling, and I wouldn't leave her for anything in the world.
We get on perfectly.
Better now, really, than we did before.
But you're the one I'm in love with... and always have been.
- What about Morris? - Morris?
- Is there anything between you? - Well, of course there isn't.
- Do you swear that? - There's no need for me to swear it.
You can see, can't you?
And even if you can't see, you must at least be able to feel
that what I'm saying is the truth.
I don't want to live with you, God forbid!
You'd drive me mad in a week.
But you are, to me, the most...
...charming, infuriating, and passionately attractive man
I've ever known in my life.
It's the most foolish thing in the world to store up regrets.
Who could you and I possibly harm by loving each other for a while?
Please, may I get up now?
Yes.
How was the Toscanini concert?
Uh, it was glorious. He played the Eighth and the Seventh.
Personally, I prefer the Fifth.
I like the Ninth best of all.
There's nothing like the dear old Ninth.
I love the Queen's Hall, don't you?
It's so uncompromising.
I love the Albert Hall much more.
I wonder why.
I always find it depressing.
Not when they do Hiawatha, surely?
Even then.
I won't hear a word...
...against the Albert Hall.
♪ Only you
♪ Can make, oh, this world seem right
♪ Only you
♪ So, tell me now
♪ Cos I won't ask again
♪ Will you still love me tomorrow?
♪ Will you still love me tomorrow? ♪
Oh, good morning.
Good morning.
Is Mr Essendine awake yet?
He has not rung.
I wonder if you would be very kind and tell him that I am awake.
Alas, no.
He would be crazy with anger.
Oh, would he, indeed! I shall be crazy with anger myself,
unless I have some breakfast.
- Ah, good morning. - Good morning.
Oh, dear!
I beg your pardon?
- You're Mr Lyppiatt, aren't you? - Yes.
- You're Helen's husband. - Yes, I am.
That, I gather, was Mr Essendine's valet.
Does he always behave like that?
He was a steward on a very large ship.
Most of the ship's stewards I've met have good manners.
He is the only one I know.
I would like some china tea,
some thin toast without butter, and a soft-boiled egg, please.
We have no tea and no eggs either,
but I will make the toast with pleasure.
Well, is there any coffee?
Yes, we have coffee.
Well, please bring me some, as quickly as you can.
I will tell Fred.
Ah, good morning, Monica.
Joe!
Thank heaven you've come.
I've had such a complicated chat with the housekeeper.
Did you stay the night here?
Yes, wasn't it sweet of Garry to let me?
I did the most idiotic thing.
I forgot my latchkey.
You forgot your latchkey?
Yeah, I was in absolute despair, and then I suddenly thought of Garry.
You suddenly thought of Garry?
Why do you keep repeating everything I say?
I don't know, it seems easier than saying anything else.
Why, Monica, you actually look as though you disapproved of me staying the night here!
I think it was tactless, to say the very least of it.
In heaven's name, why?
It was a perfectly natural thing to do in the circumstances.
When is Helen coming home?
Tomorrow morning by the 11 o'clock plane.
Is there anything else you would like to know?
No, I don't think I want to know anything else at all.
I must say, Monica, I really do resent your manner a little bit.
Anyone would think that I had done something awful.
Obviously, you're a better judge of that than I.
It's quite astounding to think that someone as close to Garry
as you have been for so many years, should have a prurient mind.
Oh! You must be shocked to the very marrow.
I really don't feel equal to continuing this rather strained conversation
before I've had some coffee.
Perhaps you would be kind enough to hurry it up for me.
- I always knew it. - Always knew what?
That you'd cause trouble.
There's someone at the door. You'd better go into the spare room.
No, I'm quite happy here, thank you.
- As you please. - Good morning!
- Joe! - Liz!
This is a surprise.
I tried to get you for hours last night.
I lost my key, and I was in the most awful state, but you weren't in.
I was in from 10 o'clock onwards.
You must have been ringing the wrong number.
I rang the number you gave me.
Then I must have given you
- the wrong number. - Ah!
If you want me, Liz, I shall be in the office.
I do want you, Monica, so don't budge.
- Ah, breakfast. - Where will you 'ave it?
Here, please.
Oh, good morning, Miss.
Good morning, Fred.
I think it would be more comfortable for Mr Lyppiatt
to have his coffee in the spare room.
I would rather have it here, if you don't mind.
I like to see what's going on.
Put it down there for the moment, Fred.
We will decide later where Mr Lyppiatt is going to have his coffee.
Ah... I have already decided, Liz,
but it is sweet of you to take so much trouble.
That will be all, thank you, Fred.
Rightyo, Miss. You just give us a shout if you need anything else.
Thanks, I will.
I understand he used to be a steward on a liner.
I suppose Garry hasn't been called yet, has he?
- I don't know. Shall I go and wake him now? - No, not yet.
No, he ought to be awakened at once, Liz.
Well, it's disgraceful, lying in bed on a lovely morning like this.
It's so unhealthy.
He will be getting fat and flabby if he's not careful.
I wish to God he would!
I wonder what she put in this coffee, apart from the coffee, I mean.
Weed killer if she had any sense.
Monica, you are being remarkably offensive.
One always hears that the secretaries of famous men
are rather frustrated and dragon-like.
It's funny that you should turn out to be so true to type.
I think after all, perhaps you had better go into the office, Monica.
This situation's becoming rather tense.
For no reason at all, as far as I can see,
unless you both have the most suspicious minds.
- All right, Liz. - I'll come in in a minute.
Oh, poor thing!
She's aged so terribly since I last saw her.
I suppose she's crazy about Garry like all of us?
All of us, Joe?
Well, I must say he is enchanting.
We had the most lovely talk last night.
I think it would be better if neither Helen nor Morris
knew you stayed the night here, Joe.
Good heavens, why? Helen wouldn't mind a bit.
I wouldn't be too sure if I were you. Anyhow, Morris would.
Morris? What's it got to do with Morris?
Now listen, we haven't much time to waste fencing with each other.
I know perfectly well that you've been unfaithful to Helen with Morris,
so you needn't trouble to deny it any further.
No, it's the most abominable lie.
Unfortunately, I dined quietly with Morris last night, upstairs at the Ivy.
He was very upset and became rather hysterical,
as you know he sometimes does,
and he told me everything.
So, he told you everything, did he?
It's quite natural that he should.
We're very old friends, you know. All of us!
A charming constellation of gossipy little planets,
all circling round the great, glorious sun.
- I was coming to that. - What do you mean?
Well, I don't wish to know anything about what happened last night,
but I'll tell you one thing.
The great, glorious sun
is not going to get tangled up in this, if I can stop it. And I can.
I should be interested to know how?
I don't think Garry would like to know
that you'd been Morris's lover as well as Helen's husband.
I don't think Morris would like to know
that you'd been Garry's lover, which I suspect you have.
- What are you talking about? - And I don't think Helen would like to know
anything about any of it.
Are you trying to blackmail me?
Uh, yes, I am.
You mean that you would be low enough to tell Garry?
Yes. And Helen, and Morris. I will tell them all,
unless you do as I say.
I suppose you are still in love with Garry yourself?
Not in the least. And even if I were, it's entirely beside the point.
I certainly love him. I love Helen and Morris, too.
We've all been devoted to one another for many years,
and it would take more than you to break it up permanently.
But I'm not taking any risks of you even upsetting it temporarily.
Because you're going to do what I tell you.
And what if I don't?
You'll be out, my dear, with all of us, forever.
With Garry most of all, quite soon.
And you wouldn't like that, you know. It would be very shaming to your vanity.
- You're very sure. - Oh, I'm absolutely positive.
You see, I know Garry very well.
After all, I've had every opportunity.
It's a pity you ever left him.
For him, yes, I think it is.
And why should you imagine
that I should mind so terribly being out with all of you, as you put it?
Principally, because you made such a terrific effort to get in.
I've never been talked to like this in my life.
Well, make the most of it.
Now, are you going to be sensible and do what I ask you or not?
You haven't asked me anything yet.
I want you to promise me that you won't see Garry again
- before he goes to Africa. - Well, really!
- Will you promise that? - No, certainly not. It's nonsense!
I'm bound to see him again. How can I avoid it?
You can be ill. You can go to Paris. Anywhere.
No, I have no intention of doing any such thing.
Very well. Fred! Fred!
It will be you who is breaking everything up, not me.
- Did you call, Miss? - Go and wake Garry immediately, will you?
Rightyo.
You'd better answer the door first. It's Morris.
Morris?
He told me last night he was coming to see Garry at 11:00.
- Now... Now, look here, Liz... - I'm glad, really, it'll be more convenient.
No, I can't face him. It would be too unpleasant.
- I'll do what you say. - You swear it?
You swear you'll go away? you won't see him again?
Yes! Yeah, I swear it.
Quickly, get into the spare room. And don't come out until I tell you.
It's a Mr Maule. He says he has an appointment.
A Mr what?
Maule. He looks a bit wet to me.
Oh, dear. Well, I suppose you'd better show him in.
Monica can deal with him. Monica!
- What's happening? - A Mr Maule is here.
Oh, he's got no right to be.
Uh, Mr Maule.
- Good morning. - Good morning.
Oh! Oh, we met before, do you remember?
Yes, very well, just the other day.
Have you an appointment with Mr Essendine?
Oh, yes, indeed. I spoke to him on the telephone last night.
And he told me I was to come at 10:30. I fear I'm a little late.
No, no, no. I'm afraid you can't see him just now.
Could you come back later?
Well, is there anywhere I could wait?
Well, go into the office for a moment,
and I'll find out when Mr Essendine can see you.
That's very, very kind of you.
- Not at all. - Thanks very much.
Oughtn't I to have let 'im in?
I don't know. He says Garry told him to come.
I can hardly believe that he did. Well, we gotta wake him and ask him.
No, Monica. Don't wake him yet. I'd rather he slept on a bit.
All right, Fred. We'll call him later.
All right, it's all the same to me.
Listen, Monica. I have guaranteed that you and I won't say a word
to Helen or Morris or anybody about Joe being here,
if he swears not to see Garry again before he goes to Africa.
- And did he? - Yes, he did.
But Morris will be here at any moment, and it's going to be awkward.
There's a telephone in the spare room, isn't there?
- Yes. - Is it the same number as this one
- or different? - It's the private line.
This one is an extension of the office.
There he is.
Leave this to me. I'll explain later.
Oh, Mr Maule, what are you doing?
- Garry! - Argh!
- Never do that to me again as long as I live. - Where are you going?
- Out. - Out where?
Just out. I suppose I can go out if I want to, can't I?
I never even knew you was up! You are a dark horse.
- Don't be impertinent, Fred, and go away. - All right, all right.
Well, the young gentleman's in the office
and you know who's in the spare room, if you 'appen to want either of 'em.
What's he talking about? The boy's off his rocker.
"You know who"? Really, Garry? You're impossible. Who is it?
I should be very, very much obliged,
if everybody were to mind their own goddamned business.
Oh, for God's sake, just get rid of them. I've got to talk to you. I'm in a bad way.
- Why? What's wrong? - Just get rid of them first, whoever it is.
They've probably got their ear clamped to the keyhole.
How can I get rid of them? They might be in the bath.
Well, tell them to hurry, then.
- Now, listen to me, Morris. - Well, if you won't, I will.
Morris! No! I forbid you to go near that room.
Come out, please, as soon as you can!
I'm coming. I was only just powdering my nose.
Liz! It's you!
Of course. Who did you think it was?
Yes, who did you think it was?
What were you making such a fuss about, Garry?
I make a fuss? I don't know what you mean! I was just standing there.
Why are you so completely dressed so suddenly?
- You were asleep a few moments ago! - On, no, I wasn't.
I most gravely doubt whether I shall ever be able to sleep again.
Perhaps your conscience was troubling you.
I cannot, for the life of me, imagine why everybody is so absolutely beastly to me!
I can't wait to get to Africa!
To be away from the lot of you.
It won't be exactly unrelieved sadness for us.
Oh, for God's sake, stop bickering, please, the both of you.
- I'm in the most awful state. - Why? What's wrong?
Liz knows. I told her last night.
What does Liz know? What did you tell her last night?
Pull yourself together, Morris!
Have a drink or something. Try not to be silly.
No, I don't want a drink. If I have a drink, it will make it much worse. It always does.
This is the most fascinating little conversation,
but I must say, I should enjoy the full flavour of it more,
had I just an inkling as to what it was all about!
I haven't slept for three nights, Garry,
ever since you spoke to me the other morning.
- Oh, dear! - Why, what's wrong?
It's bad enough getting one of my awful obsessions.
You know what I'm like when I get an obsession.
God knows you've helped me through enough of them,
but this time, I've made an utter fool of myself
and lied to you into the bargain.
Lied to me? You mean...
Joe and I love each other, Garry.
Oh!
It's been going on for several months,
but we made a pact we'd lie about it to everyone,
in order not to make an awful mess and upset everything.
But I'm not used to lying to you.
I never have before, and it's been driving me mad ever since.
Yesterday afternoon, I couldn't take it any longer,
and I told Joe I was going to tell you.
He was furious.
He said he'll never speak to me again if I did,
and he went away and left me. He's disappeared.
I've been trying to find him ever since.
His servants say he hasn't been home all night,
and I'm terrified something's happened to him.
Perhaps it has.
You don't like him, Liz, you never did.
I'm not sure I do, really, but I love him.
The whole thing's very fragrant, isn't it, Garry?
Well, you needn't fuss any more, Morris.
Joe spent the night with me.
- Spent the night with you! - Yes, on the sofa.
He lost his latchkey!
He's there now. I told him I'd tell you to ring him up if I saw you.
- I'll go round now. - No! You'd better ring up first
and see if he's still there. He might have gone out.
I'll get the number for you.
Hello. Maggie? Is Mr Lyppiatt still there?
All right. There you are, Morris.
Hello, Joe? Yes, it's me, Morris.
- You unutterable fool! - How did you get him out?
He's not out, he's in there, on the other line.
Why didn't you tell me you were with Liz? I was so terrified.
I thought something had happened to you.
Yes.
Yeah. Yes, I'm at the studio. I...
Yes, I have. I've told them, I had to. I...
Listen, Joe, I must see you. Joe? Joe?
- He's hung up! - Well, it serves you right.
I must see him! I must see him! What am I to do?
Calm down and don't be hysterical.
- I'm going to Liz's flat now. - No! You're coming with me!
- Coming with you? Where to? - Hampstead Heath.
It's cruel and heartless of you to try to be funny at a moment like this,
when you know I'm utterly miserable.
- I'm not trying to be funny at all. - Be quiet, Garry.
Listen, Morris. It really would be better
if you didn't try to see Joe in your present state.
Have a drink and calm down.
- What's the matter with Hampstead Heath? - Oh, shut up, Garry!
I'm surrounded by lies and intrigue and sickening emotionalism!
I tell you here and now, I'm not going to put up with it a moment longer.
My whole life is spent in trying to help people...
...in giving them wise, sensible advice,
in shielding them from the buffets of Fate and what's the result?
They batten on me!
They drain every ounce of vitality out of me, until I'm a nervous wreck,
and then they expect me to go tramping back and forth
through darkest Africa in order to make money for them.
Money, money, money, money!
That's all they think about.
And when I'm weltering in my final moments in some malarial swamp,
all you'll be saying is, "10%!
"10%! 10%!"
If ever I try to snatch a little happiness for myself,
a little gaiety, a little relaxation, I'm accused of being...
...of being immoral
and letting down my position. Position indeed!
I have no more position than a little frightened beetle...
...cringing into the shadows,
trying frantically to hide away
from blinding, merciless light of criticism
that is forever beating down upon me.
Did you or did you not make an appointment with Mr Maule this morning?
I most emphatically did not.
- He terrifies the life out of me. - Well, he's here!
I'm afraid I told a wicked lie about the appointment,
but I must see you. It's very, very important.
Mr Maule, you promised me that you'd stay in the office.
- I want to tell you that it's all right. - What's all right?
About what I felt about you. I've got the whole thing straightened out.
I'm absolutely delighted for you,
and I congratulate you from the bottom of my heart,
but you really must go away now.
Yes, you really must go away now.
Mr Essendine's in the middle of a... a conference.
Fred! Miss Erikson! There's somebody at the door.
I haven't got the faintest idea who it is,
but I strongly suspect it's a mad florist from Stoke Poges
who is passionately in love with me!
I'll go!
Mr Maule, I really do think it would be better if you were to come back later.
Couldn't I stay a little longer?
You see, every moment I'm near him, I get smoother and smoother and smoother,
my whole rhythm improves tremendously.
- Where's Joe? - Helen!
He's disappeared.
I understood you were coming back tomorrow.
He hasn't been home all night, nobody knows where he is.
It's all right, Helen, he stayed with me.
But I rang up Maggie, and she said she hadn't seen him.
Well, there's a reason for that, I'll explain later.
Yes, wait till you hear it.
Something's happened. I had a presentiment in the aeroplane.
- But why did Maggie say... - Ring him up if you don't believe me.
Monica, get my flat on the telephone.
- How do you do? My name is Roland Maule. - How do you do?
Uh, Roland Maule. I don't think we've met.
Please go away, Mr Maule!
Oh, hello, Joe? Hold on a minute.
Helen wants to speak to you.
Yes, she's here, in the studio.
Darling, you gave me the most awful fright.
No, I got through everything yesterday, and there was no sense in staying.
I couldn't think what had happened to you.
Yes, we're all here.
No, I think I shall have to lunch with Morris.
Are you going back to the house?
Very well, darling. I'll tell her.
He says he's going to pop out any minute.
Tell him to stay where he is, and I'll pop in and see him presently.
Liz says to stay where you are, and she'll be round presently.
What? Joe, whatever is the matter?
He says he feels as if he were in a French farce,
and he's sick to death of it.
He sounds upset.
That's the telephone, it never stops ringing.
Tell him to shut it off.
Liz says to shut off the telephone, and...
Joe? Hello? He's hung up.
There's a Lady Saltburn outside, Miss Reed,
she says she has an appointment for 11:30.
- Lady who? - Good heavens! What's today?
Black Thursday.
Thursday. I'd completely forgotten.
Lady Saltburn's great niece.
You promised you'd give her an audition
and recommend her to the R.A.D.A. or something, don't you remember?
No, I do not. She must be sent away immediately.
No! No, Garry. You can't send Lady Saltburn away.
She gave us £50 for the Footlights Fund.
I don't care if she gave us £5,000 for the Footlights Fund.
How can I be expected to listen to people's great nieces this morning?
I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown as it is.
Why, what's happened?
Too much, Helen! Far, far too much!
- You must see her. - No.
- It won't take a minute. - No.
It would be most terribly rude not to, after all you promised.
- No. - Ask her in, Fred.
- Rightyo. - Thank you, Monica,
you're a great comfort to me!
It's all very exciting, isn't it?
I have to go. I'll be back later, Garry, Liz, Helen.
All right. Let's pop in to Liz's flat and talk to Joe.
No!
I must go to the office, and you must come with me. It's urgent.
Lady Saltburn.
Ah!
Mr Essendine, this is so charming of you.
Not at all, my pleasure.
Let me introduce you to everybody.
- This is my wife. - How do you do?
- My secretary, Miss Reed.
How do you do? You were so kind on the telephone.
- Mr Dixon. Mrs Lyppiatt. - Pleasure.
And Mr Maule.
How do you do? And this is my great niece Daphne.
Oh, how do you do?
I believe you knew her mother years ago.
She... She died, you know, in Africa.
Uh... How shocking!
I've been longing to meet you, Mr Essendine.
I've loved everything you've ever done.
What a charming tribute.
Daphne simply wouldn't give me any peace
until I'd rung up your secretary
and absolutely implored her for an appointment.
She's so tremendously keen, you know.
This is quite a peep behind the scenes, isn't it, Daphne, dear?
One peep ought to be quite enough.
This is the most thrilling moment of my life, Mr Essendine.
I've always wondered what you'd be like close up.
You mustn't embarrass Mr Essendine, Daphne.
I'm sure he understands, don't you, Mr Essendine?
I understand perfectly,
but I'm afraid I can only give you a couple of minutes of my time.
You see, I'm terribly busy at the moment with my associates,
making plans for my forthcoming tour in Africa.
Oh, I'd no idea you were going to Africa. How very interesting.
You simply must pay a visit to my nephew-in-law.
He lives on the top of the most beautiful mountain.
Right on the top?
Well, I can hardly wait.
So, shall we make a start, Miss Stillington?
Yes, yes. Off we go. Are you ready, Daphne?
You know how busy Mr Essendine is.
I'm sure it's very sweet of him to see us at all.
We mustn't impose on him.
Yes, nearly ready.
I do hope you'll forgive us, but we really must go now.
- We've got to go back to the office. Goodbye. - How sad. Goodbye.
- Morris? Liz? - I'm staying here a little. I'll come later.
- Goodbye, Lady Saltburn. - Goodbye, Mr Maule.
I'm staying, too.
So, what are you going to do, Miss Stillington?
Oh, nothing much. I'll try not to bore you.
You see, I want you to hear me so very much.
It means everything to me. You will hear me, won't you?
You can hear me, can't you? And you're not angry, are you?
Daphne. Really! What are you talking about?
Mr Essendine understands, don't you, Mr Essendine?
Mr Essendine understands everything.
Mr Essendine always understands absolutely everything
and what nobody else seems to understand is that the strain of it
is driving him step by step into a suicide's grave!
Oh, don't be affected, Garry.
My wife, Lady Saltburn, left me several years ago.
Gnawing regret has embittered her.
There's nothing worse than regret. Look at Chekhov!
We have no time at the moment to look at Chekhov!
Please don't be nervous, darling.
I'm not nervous. I just wish you weren't so many miles away.
What are you going to do, sing?
I'm not going to sing. I'm just going to say a few lines.
Very well, fire away.
"We meet not as we parted..."
Oh, it's the Shelley.
"We feel more than all may see;
"My bosom is heavy-hearted,
"And thine full of doubt for me:
"One moment has bound the free.
"That moment is gone for ever,
"Like lightning that flashed and died--
"Like a snowflake upon the river--
"Like a sunbeam upon the tide,
"Which the dark shadows hide.
"That moment from time was singled
"Like the first in a life of pain;"
Ha...!
"The cup of its joy was mingled
"Delusion too sweet though vain!
"Too sweet to be mine again.
"Sweet lips--"
That room is like a Frigidaire,
and I have no intention of staying in it one minute longer.
I shan't see you again, Garry,
as I am going to Paris tomorrow for a month. So this, it's goodbye.
Please don't imagine I haven't enjoyed the circus enormously.
I have. But in the circuses I have been to,
it was the ringmaster who cracked the whip, and not the clowns.
Would somebody kindly call me a taxi?
You'd better take my car, Joe. It's downstairs.
Thank you very much.
The chauffeur's got red hair, and his name is Frobisher!
Brava!
This is splendid! I feel reborn.
Go to hell!
- Goodbye, Garry! - Oh... Oh, God!
Oh, no!
♪ Don't leave me this way
♪ I can't survive
♪ I can't stay alive
♪ Without your love
♪ Oh, baby
♪ Don't leave me this way, no
♪ I can't exist
♪ I'll surely miss
♪ Your tender kiss
♪ Don't leave me this way
♪ Ahh... baby!
♪ My heart is full of love and desire for you
♪ So, come on down and do what you got to do
♪ You started this fire down in my soul
♪ Now can't you see it's burning out of control?
♪ So, come on, satisfy the need in me
♪ 'Cause only your good loving can set me free
♪ Set me free, set me free
♪ I need your loving, baby
♪ Need, need
♪ Satisfy
♪ The need in me
♪ Satisfy
♪ The need in me ♪
"And I shall never forget those lovely days in Madeira and our picnics on the rocks.
"What fun we had.
"It really was wonderful getting to know you intimately like that
"without you being surrounded by crowds of people all the time.
"And now for my exciting news. I am coming to England. Imagine!
"I arrive on the 28th and shall be in London for three whole weeks.
"You remember you told me to let you know a good time beforehand if I should be coming.
"So, I am doing so. I am so longing to see you again.
"With my love and many, many glorious memories.
"Yours, Winnie. Kiss, kiss, kiss."
Darling Winnie. When's it dated?
Oh... November 7th.
Oh, it's over six months ago. She must be gone by now.
Well, you told me to put it in Mount Pleasant.
Well, it's too late to answer it now.
Much! Ooh!
Oh, she'd probably have been an awful nuisance anyhow.
This one's signed "Mitch".
- Mitch what? - Just "Mitch".
- But it's dated February 2nd. - Let me look.
Seems that you met him in the South of France.
I do get about, don't I?
Oh, Mitch!
That's what I said.
Mitch was wonderful.
I met him in a bar in Marseilles.
He's got dark eyes and comes from Madras.
What does he want?
It says at the end.
Mm...
Well, why didn't you send him some?
Well, I didn't consider "Mitch, Madras" sufficient address.
I'm damned if I can remember his other name.
Well, he's out of luck, too, then, isn't he?
I wonder if I shall see Green England again.
I see no reason why you shouldn't.
I might die of some awful tropical disease or be bitten by a snake.
I doubt there are any snakes in the larger cities.
I can see myself now under a mosquito net, fighting for breath...
Who with?
You have no imagination at all, Monica. Just a flat, literal mind.
It must be very depressing for you.
I get by.
How many more are there?
Oh, about 18.
I can't face them. Just put them in Mount Pleasant.
Well, you seemed in doubt just now as to whether you were coming back,
and they'll still be here.
Well, I can't answer letters if I'm dead, can I?
'Ave you finished with the tray? 'Cause I want to be getting along.
Is everything packed?
All except the last-minute stuff, and we can pop that in in the morning.
Is this poor Doris's swan song?
How d'you mean?
Nothing, Fred. It couldn't matter less.
Well, she's coming to the station tomorrow morning to see us off.
You don't mind, do you?
I can't wait.
I must be getting back.
Don't leave me alone, Monica.
I feel depressed.
I shall be here first thing in the morning.
I wish you were coming with me.
I shall be utterly lost without you.
Is Liz coming to the station?
No.
Why don't you go round and see her?
You know perfectly well. She's still in a rage with me.
- I haven't seen her for a week. - Have you tried?
Of course I've tried. I've telephoned her six times.
Each time she spoke to me remotely and kindly
as if she were speaking to an idiot child.
I was surprised she didn't spell out some of the words to me.
Would you like me to have a go at her?
No. If she wants to behave like an outraged governess with chilblains,
let her get on with it.
I do see her point, you know, Garry. You really did go a little too far,
and if Helen was to ever...
Oh, for heaven's sake, don't you start on me, too.
I just...
I... Well, I'll...
I'll put these into the office.
- Nothing more you want? - No, Fred.
This place looks a fair lash-up, don't it?
'Ow many did we 'ave?
I don't know. About 60, I should think.
Well, between 'em all they put away enough gin to float the Queen Mary.
You'd better call me at 8:00 in the morning.
We gotta be out of the house by 10:00.
Rightyo.
Thanks, Fred.
- Enjoy yourself. - Same to you.
Be good.
By the way, you'd better be careful if the telephone rings.
Because that Mr Maule's been calling all the week.
I'd almost welcome him this evening.
At least he'd be interesting psychologically.
So would Rasputin!
I feel dreadfully flat.
I suppose everybody does before they go away.
It's your own fault you're alone, you know.
You refused all offers.
You pleaded for a few hours' solitude
and said you'd throw yourself out of the window if you didn't get it,
and then we would all be sorry.
Well, I'm quite sure you wouldn't.
Oh...
There, there, there.
You're getting to be a big boy, you know.
You're going to be forty-two next birthday.
- Just fancy! - Forty-one.
Just fancy.
Good night, darling. I'll see you in the morning.
I do envy you, Monica.
You're so unruffled...
...and efficient.
You go churning through life like some frightening old warship.
Thank you, darling.
That sounds most attractive.
Night-night.
- Have another drink? - No, I really must be getting home.
A little game of something.
Night-night.
Hello.
Oh, no, no, no... No!
I'm... I'm afraid he isn't.
I'm going away now, Mr Essendine. Have you everything you want?
Frankly, no, Miss Erikson.
I have nothing that I want.
Oh, what a pity.
Have you?
Have any of us got what we want?
Oh, Mr Essendine, you are only acting!
For a moment, you made me quite upset.
You lead a strange life, Miss Erikson. Do you enjoy it?
- Yes, indeed. - Tell me about it from A to Z.
- Do you mind if I pinch a cigarette? - Pinch anything you like.
I smoke so much, and I'm always running out. It's most silly.
Where are you going now, for instance?
I'm going to my friend in Hammersmith. She is German.
Is she a spy?
Yes, I think so.
But she is very kind.
I understand from Fred that she's also a medium.
Oh, yes, indeed. Sometimes... she makes a trance, and it is very surprising.
She will lie on the ground for many hours making noises.
What sort of noises?
They are different. Sometimes she will sing high, high like the bird...
And at other times she will make a little bark.
Often she's very ill.
I'm not entirely surprised.
- Well, I must be pushing off now. - Yes, nice to see you, Miss Erikson.
- Hello, Garry. - Daphne, darling,
this really is very sweet of you, to come and say goodbye.
- I haven't come to say goodbye. - What do you mean?
I'm coming with you. I bought my ticket this afternoon.
- What? - I've run away!
I left a note for my aunt.
You see, I know something now.
I've known it all the week, really, ever since that awful morning when I fainted.
I know you need me as much as I need you.
No, don't say anything just for a moment. I've thought it all through very carefully.
And I know that I'm very much younger than you and all that,
but I can help you and look after you.
Daphne, darling, this really is too absurd. You must go home at once.
I knew you'd say that.
Please! Put on your hat again, and don't be silly.
I know you better than you think I do.
I know when you're acting and when you're not.
- You're acting now. - I'm not doing anything of the sort.
You were acting when you pretended to be cross when I came and recited, but...
...when you said goodbye to me that other morning so sweetly,
then you weren't acting, were you?
The mask was off then, wasn't it?
- Wasn't it? - Listen to me, Daphne...
I was ashamed on Thursday at first,
ashamed at playing a trick on you by making my aunt ring up for an audition.
- But when I was here, I was glad. - Oh, you were glad, were you?
Yes, I was. I think that's why I fainted.
- You see, I suddenly realised the truth. - What truth?
How desperately lonely you really are.
In spite of all those around you, in spite of all your great success.
I knew how deep your longing must be to have someone really love you...
...really be with you,
when I saw that dreadful prostitute come out of your spare room.
That was not a prostitute.
It was the husband of one of my dearest friends!
No, Garry, you can't deceive me. I know.
Daphne, I wish to say loudly and clearly that I am not acting.
I am speaking with the utmost sincerity, of which I am capable,
when I order you to put on your hat, get into a taxi,
and go straight back to your great-aunt.
No.
I won't make any demands on you whatever.
I don't expect you to marry me or anything like that.
I won't even see you on the boat if you don't want me to.
I'm not a very good sailor, anyhow.
I'll just be here when you want me,
when you're tired and lonely and need someone to put their arms around you.
There's somebody at the door.
- Well, who is it? - How should I know?
But I think you'd better pop into the spare room.
- No, Garry, not the spare room! - All right, all right, the office, then.
Well, get rid of them soon, whoever it is. Promise.
All right, in you go.
Here's your hat.
Quiet as a mouse now.
Forgive me, I must see you.
Oh, no, you can't. I'm just going to bed.
I'm afraid I must insist. See, it's a matter of life and death.
What the hell do you mean, forcing yourself into my house like this?
That's right. Shout, shout. You're magnificent when you're angry!
I'll tell you what, young man.
You're just raving bloody mad. That's what's the matter with you.
Oh, no, I'm not. You're the one who's mad.
Will you please leave this house immediately?
No, I'm afraid I can't. It's quite impossible. I've burnt my boats.
Burnt your what?
- My boats. - What on earth are you talking about?
I told a wicked lie just now when I said it was a matter of life and death.
It isn't really quite as bad as that. But it's very, very serious.
For me, I mean. Perhaps for us both.
If you're not out of this house by the time I count to ten,
I shall telephone for the police.
- One, two. - No, no, I shan't let you.
- I'm tremendously strong, you know. - Three, four.
- I can lift the heaviest things imaginable... - Five, six.
- ...without turning a hair. Look. - Seven...
Put that down.
Put it down.
You'll do something terrible to yourself.
Listen to me, Mr Maule.
You may call me...
...Roland.
Listen to me, Roland.
I want to put this situation to you reasonably and quietly.
This is my last night in England, and I have a great deal to do.
You said just now you were going to bed.
Be that as it may, Roland...
I know you think I'm mad, and I really don't blame you a bit,
but I assure you I'm not at all.
I merely have an exceptional brain in many ways.
A brain incidentally that can be of inestimable service to you.
As I told you the other day, you signify a great deal to me.
You are, in fact, part of me.
I'm sure I'm very flattered, Roland.
I wonder if I could have a biscuit?
- A what? - A biscuit.
- A biscuit? - Yeah, right there.
- By all means, help yourself. - Thank you.
I promise you faithfully I will go when I've finished this biscuit.
After all, there's no...
there's no valid reason, is there, why I shouldn't be acting being mad?
It's just as you're acting being sane.
- I am not acting. - You're always acting.
That's what is so fascinating.
And... And you're so used to it that you don't even know it yourself.
I'm...
I'm absolutely devoted to your face, in every mood.
Listen to me, Roland.
What exactly is it...
...that you want, really?
Well, to be with you.
That's why I'm coming to Africa!
- That's why you're what? - I bought a ticket today.
It's steerage, but better than nothing.
I've given up my law studies and left Uckfield for good.
That's why I'm rather excitable tonight.
You needn't be frightened that I shall get in your way or make any demands on you.
There's somebody at the door.
Do be a good boy and go away now, will you?
You promised you would when you'd finished your biscuit.
Please don't send me away.
It's extremely kind of you to take such a keen interest in me, Roland,
but if you really cared about me so deeply,
you would do as I ask you and go quietly back to Uckfield.
I shall never go back to Uckfield!
The last train's gone now, anyway.
- Well, go to the Grosvenor Hotel, then. - No, I will not let you send me away.
You will regret it your whole life long if you do.
I have a profound conviction about it that nothing will shake.
Mr Maule, come out of that room immediately!
Mr... Roland!
Hello, darling.
- What's the meaning of this, Joe? - Don't you know?
Yes, I do. You're coming to Africa with me.
You bought your ticket this afternoon.
You're not gonna make any demands on me, and you're not a good sailor.
I am a perfect sailor.
- What are you doing? - Telephoning.
Darling, underneath this rather taut, strained manner of yours,
deep down inside, aren't you just a little bit glad to see me?
Hello? Hello?
I'm so terribly, terribly, terribly sorry it's a wrong number!
Who are you calling?
Doesn't matter now. When did you get back from Paris?
This afternoon.
I understood you were going to stay in Paris for a month.
No, no, you didn't.
You knew perfectly well that I wouldn't be able to.
I must say I tried for the first few days to put you out of my mind.
I railed against you. I said the most dreadful things you weren't there to hear.
- And then I remembered. - What did you remember?
I remembered what you said to me the other night.
You said, "It doesn't matter what comes after this,
"what circumstances combine against us, what tears are shed.
"This, it's magic, the loveliest magic that I have ever known!"
That's out of the second act of my play, Love Is So Simple.
Yes, I know. I recognised it.
I saw the play several times, you know.
- Well, in that case, why did you believe it? - I didn't.
But the fact of your saying it, it proved something to me.
It proved that you are no more sincere emotionally than I am,
that you no longer need or desire the pangs of love,
but are perfectly willing to settle for the fun of love.
It's an adult point of view, and I salute it.
That, to date, is the most immoral statement I've ever heard in my life.
Ah, but it's true though, isn't it?
It's people like you who undermine the whole integrity of civilisation.
- What's that out of? - It's not out of anything.
As I told you the other night, I've always wanted you.
I've always instinctively known that we were right for each other. You need me.
The people round you are no longer enough. I need you.
Now, I can't guarantee that we shall be domestically happy together,
but we will have a good time.
Joe, Joe...
You were quite right when you said just now, with remarkable clairvoyance,
that I was coming to Africa with you.
I am. I've got the bridal suite.
The bridal suite?
Yeah, it's all that was left.
In addition to that, I have written a note to Helen telling her everything about us.
You what?
She's dining with Morris at the Athenaeum. They can read it together.
But...
Who's that?
With any luck, it's the Lord Chamberlain.
Hello, Joe.
Ah, good evening, Liz dear. How nice you look.
Oh, thank you so much. I do my best.
I think it only fair to tell you. I am sailing with Garry tomorrow.
What fun.
So am I!
What?
I decided this afternoon.
I've sent Maggie down to Southampton tonight with my luggage.
It's certainly a big day for the British Ferry Line.
If I may say so, Liz, I think that's rather silly of you.
I really don't see why. It'll be charming.
We can all eat at the same table and do our life-boat drill together.
I think it only fair to warn you
that Joe has written a letter to Helen explaining everything about us.
Good, then she'll probably be coming, too.
I should like to take this opportunity of saying that I wish I were dead.
Nonsense, darling, you'll enjoy the voyage enormously.
There won't be a dull moment.
You imagine you're being very clever, Liz, don't you?
Well, I've learnt in a hard school.
Personally, I think you are making the greatest mistake of your life.
It's always foolish not to have the courage to admit defeat.
Joe, for a man of your experience, you're being a trifle obtuse.
You seem to imagine that I'm competing with you.
I assure you I am doing nothing of the sort.
It is very important for all of us that this African tour of Garry's should be a success.
Obviously there is no way of preventing you from coming if you want to.
But you'd better realise before it's too late
that from a social and publicity angle, you'll be there as a friend of mine.
I'll give you just three guesses as to who that is!
- I'll go, Garry. - It's the gathering of the clans.
Perhaps I've been wrong about you, Garry. You haven't got the guts of a rabbit.
Is it true? That's all I want to know. Is it true?
False... friend! False... friend!
Calm down, Morris.
It's no good trying to be flippant.
This is a miserable, disgusting situation, and you know it.
Stab in the back is what it is, a low-down stab in the back.
- Not too low down, I hope. - Shut up, Morris.
I've had a note from Joe. I suppose you know that, don't you?
Yes, he does. I've just told him.
Is what he says in it true?
How should I know? I haven't read it.
Don't prevaricate.
He says that you've been lovers and that you're going away together tomorrow.
Is that true?
- It's perfectly true. - Answer me, Garry!
I will tell you what's true and what's not true
if you stop bouncing up and down like a rubber ball and listen!
Hey, careful, Garry.
Careful? I've been a damn sight too careful with the lot of you for years!
You haven't answered my question yet.
I want to hear it from your own lips before I decide what to do.
What to do, indeed! What can you do?
Have you or have you not been Joe's lover?
Yes, I have.
You utter bastard!
You haven't got one decent instinct in you.
You're morally unstable and false through and through!
For the love of God, stop being theatrical!
You should never have married him in the first place.
I always told you it was a grave mistake.
You have the damned impertinence to stand there after seducing my husband...
Now, look here, Helen, I didn't seduce your husband, and well you know it.
You came here the other night absolutely determined to seduce me,
- didn't you? - Yeah.
You're taking up a high and mighty attitude over the whole thing,
but I'm perfectly convinced that if you just face the facts honestly,
you'll discover that you don't really mind in the least.
Morris is the one who minds. For the moment.
Morris? What do you mean?
That was disgraceful, Garry.
I am sick to death of everybody acting
and lying and intriguing about.
All right, you win, Garry.
I would never have believed anyone could sink so low.
Well, there you go.
What did you mean about Morris? Answer me!
I mean that Morris and Joe have been conducting an abortive little ding-dong
under your silly nose for months.
I will never speak to you again until the day I die!
Well, we can have a nice chat then, can't we?
Morris, Joe, is this true?
Of course it's true.
It hasn't lasted quite so long
as your rather dreary affair with Elvira Radcliffe.
That's been hiccupping along for nearly a year now.
Helen!
Don't pretend you didn't know, Joe.
You were absolutely delighted.
It gave you room to expand!
I told you about that in the deepest confidence.
How can you be so vile as to betray it?
I'm sick to death of being stuffed with everybody's confidences.
I am bulging with them.
You, all of you, come to me over and over again
and pour your damned tears and emotions and sentiment all over me
until I'm wet through.
You're all just as badly behaved as I am. In many ways, a great deal worse.
You believe in your lachrymose amorous hangovers
whereas I at least have the grace to take mine lightly.
You wallow and I laugh, because I believe now as I have always believed
that there's far too much nonsense talked about sex.
You, Morris, happen to like taking your paltry attachments seriously.
You enjoy plunging into orgies of jealousy
and torment and torturing yourself and everybody else.
That's your way of enjoying yourself.
Helen's technique...
Her technique is a little different, she goes for the more domestic blend.
That's why she got so tired of Joe so quickly.
Anyhow, she's beautifully suited to dear old Elvira.
She's been knee-deep in knitting wool ever since she left Roedean School for Girls!
Joe is different again.
He devotes a great deal of time to sex,
but not just for the intrinsic pleasures of it,
oh, no, merely as a means to an end.
He's a collector.
A go-getter, an attractive, unscrupulous pirate.
I, myself, am none of those things, personally.
I think the whole thing is vastly overrated.
I enjoy it for what it's worth,
and I fully intend to go on doing so as long as anybody is interested,
and when the time comes and they're not,
I shall be perfectly contented to settle down with an apple and a good book!
Well, I'll be damned!
Of all the brazen, arrogant sophistry.
- You have the nerve to work yourself up... - I have not worked myself up into anything.
I'm merely defending my right to speak the truth for once.
Truth? You wouldn't recognise the truth if you saw it.
You spend your whole life attitudinising and posturing and showing off.
And I should like to know where you would all be if I didn't show off.
I'm an artist, aren't I?
Surely, I may be allowed a little licence!
I'm sick of this idiotic performance. I'm going.
And kindly don't start that old threadbare argument
about none of us being able to live and breathe
if it wasn't for your glorious talent.
How dare you allude to my talent
in that nasty, sarcastic tone, you ungrateful little serpent!
If it wasn't for our restraining influence, you'd be in the provinces by now.
And what's the matter with the provinces, may I ask?
They've often proved to be a darn sight more intelligent than London.
Be careful! Someone might hear!
I said I am going.
I suppose you'll be saying it's your restraining influence
that allowed me to maintain my position as the idol of the public
for the past twenty years.
You're not the idol of the public.
They'll come and see you in the right play and the right part,
and you've got to be good at that.
Look what happened to you in Pity the Blind!
I was magnificent in Pity the Blind.
- It lasted ten days. - Eleven!
If it hadn't been for us you'd have done Peer Gynt.
If anybody else so much as mentions Peer Gynt in this house again,
I swear before heaven, I will produce it at Drury Lane.
Not on my money, you won't!
Oh, your money?
Do you think I'm dependent on your miserable money to put on plays?
There are literally thousands of shrewd old gentlemen in the city
who would be only too delighted to back me in anything I choose to do.
I think it rather depends on whether they're married or not.
Oh, so we're back to that again, are we?
See? Single-track mind.
No, we're not back to anything.
This has been the most disgusting, degrading scene,
and if it wasn't for the fact that Morris and I signed the contract
for the Forum Theatre this morning,
we should both of us wash our hands of you forever!
- You what? - All right, one last thing, huh?
You what?
- Now Garry, for heaven's sake... - I'm going.
Do you hear me, all of you? I am going. For good.
Take my car, it's downstairs.
It's been a great evening for speaking the truth, hasn't it?
And I, for one, should like to add just one little contribution
to the entertainment before I leave.
I consider you, Mr Garry Essendine,
to be not only an overbearing, affected egomaniac,
but the most unmitigated cad it has ever been my misfortune to meet,
and I most devoutly hope that I shall never set eyes on you again
for as long as I live.
Do you mean to tell me that you signed a contract for that theatre
when I particularly told you that no power on God's earth
would induce me to set foot in it?
- Now look here... - I will not "Look here, Garry."
It's nothing more or less than the most outrageous betrayal of faith,
and I'm deeply, deeply angry.
They're doing up the whole theatre while you're in Africa
and have even consented to put a shower bath in your dressing room.
I don't care if they put a swimming pool in my dressing room
or a squash court.
I will not play a light French comedy
to an auditorium that looks like the Gothic edition of Wembley Stadium.
It won't look like that.
Honestly, darling, I've seen the designs, and they're really awfully good.
Oh, so, you've seen the designs, have you?
So, you're against me, too.
- Now really, Garry... - Just go away!
Just go away, all of you! Get out!
Please, please don't send me away. Please don't send me away!
- Get out! - You're too great a person to be unkind.
Please, please don't send me away. I won't make any demand on you whatever.
Go away! I can't take it anymore.
I've got to face that dreadful sea voyage tomorrow.
And then, months of agonising drudgery through what is considered by everybody
to be the most exhausting continent there is.
Get out.
Get...
Get out.
Well, that performance wouldn't deceive a kitten.
He's losing his grip.
Come on, let's go.
They're mad to have you, Garry.
They're reseating the stalls, which will put over a hundred on the capacity.
Go on, Helen.
I'll talk to him.
Could I get a little... a little sip of something?
I really do feel quite tired.
Whisky or brandy?
Uh...
Brandy.
Turn on the lights.
The lights are on.
You're not really coming to Africa with me, are you?
Certainly I am.
And not only to Africa.
I'm coming back to you for good.
I don't want you to come back to me.
I'm perfectly happy as I am.
That can't be helped.
You behave abominably anyhow.
But you won't be able to be quite so bad with me there.
Liz, I implore you...
...not to come back to me.
Have you no sympathy?
Have you no...
...heart?
I'm thinking of the good of the firm.