Not Now, Darling

DRAMATISTS PLAY SERVICE, INC. ESTABLISHED BY MEMBERS OF THE DRAMATISTS GUILD OF THE AUTHORS LEAGUE OF AMERICA for the HANDLING OF THE ACTING RIGHTS OF MEMBERS' PLAYS and THE ENCOURAGEMENT OF THE AMERICAN THEATRE

NOT

NO~~T

D

INS

A

COMEDY

BY

RAY

COONEY~D

JOHN

CHAPIIZAN

1.~ ~i 440 Pazk Avenue South, New York, NY 10016

www.dramatists.com

DRAMATISTS PLAY

SERVICE

INC.

NOT NOW, DARLING CopyrightO Renewed 1999, Ray Cooney and John Chapman CopyrightO 1970, 1971, Ray Cooney and John Chapman All Rights Reserved CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that performance of NOT NOW, DARLING is subject to payment of a royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth), and of all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright Convention, the Universal Copyright Convention, the Berne Convention, and of all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rig~ts, including without limitation professionaUamateur stage rights, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound recording, all other forms of mechanical, electronic and digital reproduction, uansmission and distribution, such as CD, DVD, the Internet, private and file -sharing networks, information storage and retrieval systems, photocopying, and the rights of uanslation into foreign languages are strictly reserved. Particular emphasis is placed upon the matter of readings, permission for which must be secured from the Author's agent in writing. 'Ihe English language amateur stage performance rights in the United States, its territories, possessions and Canada for NOT NOW, DAI2I.ING are conuolled exclusively by DRAMATISTS PLAY SERVICE, INC., 440 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10016. No nonprofessional performance of the Play may be given without obtaining in advance the written permission of DRAMATISTS PLAY SERVICE, INC., and paying the requisite fee. Inquiries concerning all other rights should be addressed to Josef Weinberger Ltd., 12-14 Mortimer Street, London, England W1T 3JJ. Attn: Josef Weinberger. SPECIAL NOTE Anyone receiving permission to produce NOT NOW, DARLING is required to give credit to the Authors as sole and e~cclusive Authors of the Play on the tide page of all programs distributed in connection with performances of the Play and in all instances in which the title of the Play appeazs, including primed or digital materials for advertising, publicizing or otherwise escploiting the Play and/or a production thereof. The names of the Authors must appeaz on a separate line, in which no other name appears, immediately beneath the tide and in size of type equal to 50% of the size of the largest, most prominent letter used for the tide of the Play. No person, firm or entity may receive credit larger or more prominent than that accorded the Authors. Be advised that there may be additional credits required in all programs and promotional material. Such language will be listed under the "Additional Billing" section of production licenses. It is the licensee's responsibility to ensure any and all required bIlling is included in the requisite places, per the terms of the license. NOT NOW, DARLING was first presented in New York C}ty by James Nederlander and George M. Steinbrenner III, by arrangement with Michael Codron, at the Brooks Atkinson 'Theatre on October Z9, 1970. It was directed by George Abbott; the designer was Lloyd Bw-Iingame; furs were by Monsieur Leon; and the hair stylist was Piem Hambur. The production supervisor was Ben Janney; and the associate producer were Sheldon B. Curen and Edward Ginsberg. The cast, in order of appearance, was as follows: Miss WHrrriNcrox ... Marilyn Hengst ARNOL D Cxoucx ... Norman Wisdom M ISS TIPDALE ... J03I1 Bassie MRS . FRENCFlAM ... Jean Cameron G iLsaRr BonLsv ... Rex Garner HnaxY McMicHnaL ... Ed Zimmermann JANIB McMtc~esL ... Roni Dengel M R. FREfICHAM ... Claude HoRon Sus Lnwsox ... Ardyth Kaiser M AUDH BODLHY ... M'el Dowd MR. Lnwsox ... Curt Dawson SYNOPSIS OF SCENES The action of the play takes place in the fowth floor salon of Bodley, Bodley and Crouch, an exclusive London firm of fumers. Acr ONe Noon on a day in late September Acr Two Immediately following 3 2

NOT NOW, DARLING was presented by Michael Codron at the Strand Theatre, London on Jvne 12th 1968, with the following cast: M css WHi'rnrrcrox ... Ann Sidney AexoLn Ceoucx ... . ... Bernard Cribbins M iss TIPDALH ... Carmel McSharry M xs. FxENex~M ... Pearl Hackney GI LBERT BODL&Y ... DOfIZ~d S1IIdCII COMMANDER ~RENCHAM ... .. ... .... ... TOTR GII~ HARRY McMicxnaL ... Brian Wilde JAN[& McMtc~aaEL ... Jill Melford Sus Iawsox ... Shirley Stelfox MAUDS BODLEY ... " " ' ... MdCy KCRYOtI Me. Lna~sonr ... David Hargreaves Directed by Patrick Cargill Designed by Hutchinson Scott This play was originally presented at the Richmond Theatre, Richmond on September ]8th, 1967, with the following cast: G7LsexT Bonier ... Rex Garner ARNOLD CROUCH ... Rdy COOA2y M►ss W~~iTTiNcrorr ... Pamela Merrick Mcss T~rneLa ... Stephanie Cole HARRY MCMICFTAEL ... Idtl Gardiner JANIH McMictiasL ... Lynda Baron Sus LnwsoN ... Lisa Peake M AUDfi BODLSY ... ... .... ... Melly AI~Cl1 4

NOT

NO~V,

DARLIl~TG

AGT ONE ?be action of t1~e piny takes place in the elegant and pri-vate at}~ floor salon of Boclley, Godley and Croach, an exclusive 'West -end firm of furriers with an esteemed reputation. ?ire hierarchy of the company consists of the three Airectors, Maude Bodiey, her husband Gilbert 8odley and ~trnold Crouch. ?he decor is opulent and finmboyant and furnished with impeccable taste. The back wall is taken up entirely with ~rencb windows ihrougb tohich is n balcony and beyond, the ~tayfair sky]ine. 7i~e back section of the set is on a orie foot rostrum wrtb stairs Leading clown t. and x. ?here are double doors u. t. which Lead fo ibe main hall and staircase. A door D. z. conceals an ornate cocktail dis-pensary. On the inside o f the cinor are glasses, bottles and hvo ten towels. ?here is another door n. n. Leading to n srriall storeroom. ~rencb iUindows closed. Doors n. u. and n. z. closed n. Door of clouhle double doors u. L. open. 71~e only pieces of )urnit~ire are a splendid round settee D. R. C., a table wiNi fcuo tetepl~ories beloto double doors and a pair of chairs R. and L. of the table. ?he time is r~oori on a sunny day in late September. As the curtain rises, Arttotd Croeich is discovered with tivo fur -draped tnodeis. Orie of fhe models is a dummy with legs and the other is ~irss 'lt~hitiington. ?he dummy is wearing a X2,000 ocelot. 9Ytiss 'Whittington is tuearing a £s,oQo Cnnadiaii wild rriink. t3otll coafs are aery modern nrid beat~tiftilly designed. Arnold is putting the ~nisbing touches to t1~e mink brusbirig it and stepping back to ndrnire his bnridirvork. 7Ie is wearing a long white work coat, grid his grey .4lpnca jacket is on a chair. After a mordent the secretary, ~4iss Tipc~ale, enters. She is an efficient, attractive bict retiring woman ire her early thirties S

and is wearing a u~eIl tailored dress tuitb a zip up ibe back. She Leaves the door o~eri. MISS 7'IPDALE. Mr. Crouch! Mr. Crouch? ARNOLD. Ah, good morning, Miss Tipdate. MISS TIPDALE. Could you spare a moment ?I've got Mrs. Frencham at reception. ARNOLD. Mrs. Who? MISS TIPDALE. Mrs. Frencham. (?ndi~at~ng.) For the Ocelot that we've remodelled for her. ARNOLD. ('loving fo c}?eck t~itl~ the diary on table, picks it up.) No, no, no, Miss Tipdale. 11ie Ocelot is to be collected at 2.30. MISS TIPDALE. She is most apologetic, but she's in a hurry. ARNOLD. I'm sure she is but it hasn't had its final brush yet. And Mr. and Mrs. McMichael are due any minute for the Canadian wild mink. MISS TIPDALE. Twelve fifteen. (Referri~ig to r~tink.) This is one of your most perfect creations, Mr. Crouch. ARNOLD. Thank you. MISS TIPDALE. Bat the mink is a sale. Mr. Bodley will attend to that. (During tie ensuing dinlogs~e Arnold takes off iris mbite jacket, ha►t~s it to :Miss Tipdnle nrid puts on Isis ~Iipncn jacket.) ARNOLD. I sincerely hope so. 1f and when he arrives. What with he being anpunctaal and Mrs. Bodley being on holiday I don't know where I am. MISS TIPDALE. But what shall I say to Mrs. Frencham? ARNOLD. You'd better send her in I suppose but this is really Mr. Bodley's pigeon. You know how nervous I get with clients. MISS 7'IPDALE. I think you cope splendidly. ARNOLD. Well— But it is not finished yet and I'll have to explain to her. MISS TIPDALE. Yes, Mr. Crouch. (She exits u. t. leaning door open.) ARNOLD. (?o birTueJj.) First the ocelot— (7-Ie picks the du~runy up betineen the legs nr~~i starts to tnone it.) No, (?ie puts it doom.) I think perhaps the mink. (7-Ie starts to ~rck up 74fiss 'Whittington in the same iUay.) MISS WHITTIIVGTOIV. (~'eiis.) Ahh! ARNOLD. (Covered in confusion.) I'm most terribly sorry, Miss 6 Whittington. I thought you were the er— I'!1 send for you again when Mr. and Mrs. McMichael arrive. MISS WHITTWGTOIV. Thank yoa, Mr. Crouch. (Arnold re-moves

tfie

mink

from

her shoulders and sbe exits u. t. as 9Ytrs. ~rencbnfrt enters, She rs a woman in her ante forties and spealzs with a frigi~tful 7Censington drawl. All her "offs" are "orfs.") MRS. FRENCHAM. Am I being very difficult? ARNOLD. Oh, Mrs. Frencham—! Well as a matter of fact... . MRS. FRENCHAM. I do apologise but my husband and I are in town today shopping, so I thought I'd collect my coat now. ARNOLD. But, it hasn't had its final brush yet, madam. MRS. FREIVCHAM. Oh, thaYs all right. ARNOLD. Bat I must give it another brush! MRS. FRENCHAM. Oh very well, I'II come back at lunchtime. I must dash—my husband's driving round the block Looking for a parking meter. ARNOLD. Oh, it is a problem, isn't it? MRS. FRENCHAM. Yes, next time we'll come on our' bicycles! (91~trs. ~rencham exits as ~4iss Tipdale enters with a catalogue and

a

note

book

from

u. z. door.) MISS 'TIPDAI,E. Mr. Crouch, are you available for a fitting? ARNOLD. I~1o, I'm not! This has to be ready at one o'clock. Make a note of that, Miss Tipdale. MISS TIPDALE. Yes, sir. ARNOLD. I must get this put away. (Picking up the dummy.} Has the ] 2. Z 5 appointment arrived yet? MISS TIPDALE. IVot yet, no. It's only just gone twelve. ARNOLD. (Opens door D. R. f0 storeroom.) Doesn't anybody ever tidy up in here? MISS TIPDALE. I'll arrange to have that done later, Mr. Crotch. In the meantime could you check the proofs for the autumn cata-logue and see to the fitting downstairs? ARNOLD. (~Tet-up.) No I couldn't, can't you sec I've got my hands full? (~~e exits n. a. clutching the dummy by the bosom. Miss 7ipdale closes t1~e door after

bum.)

GILBERT. (Off, heartily.) "Morning, all." "Morneng, girls." "Morning, Miss Tipdale." Miss Tipdale?! Tippers! Tippers, where are you? MISS TIPDALE. Here I am, Mr. Bodley. (`_Frn~it u. z. C~iibert Boc~ley eriter:c. 71e is n fl~imboyant exironert iii his late forties wiib 7

F{. 5 a nnfur~il j~en~bnnt for (lotvery In►iguage mrd intrigue. ode is carry- Janic gets her mink and Iact—wcli, that's another story. (Arno1~1 irig two bottles of charrzpagne and an umbrellA. 7-te is wearing a enters from D. R. closing door rebind biir~.) bowler hat.) ARNOLD. Ah, Mr. Bodley, thank goodness you've arrived. I've GILBERT. Good morning, Tippers. How are you? been driven out of my mind. MISS TIPDALE. (Doubtfully.) WeII— GILBERT. Have we been busy? GILBERT. Splendid. So am I. What's the time? (7~tiss 7ipdale ARNOLD. Busy! I've been rushing round like a mad thing! pointedly slmlus 1~irri 11er tuntcb.) Thank you. (7-Ie hangs bis um- GILBERT. Good! Keep it up. Have yan given that its fins! brush? breiln on her nrtn nrtd puts bis }~oii~ler bat on ber head.) What have {Gilbert throws coat to Jlrnold.) you got there? ARNOLD. (Catching coat.) No. And I've asked you before not to I~11SS TIPDALE. The autumn catalogue proofs. be quite so rough with these things. (Arnold is bn?ding the mink GILBERT. Pacsed. What's next on the agenda? coat. Miss 'Whittington enters, leaving door open.) I~11SS TIPDALE. The McMichaels at 12.15. WHITTINGTON. Mr. Crouch ... I wonder if ... Oh, Mr. CILBERT. Show them in the moment they arrive. Meanwhile I'll Bodley, have I time for my coffee break before your 12.15 appoint -get the champagne nn ice. (Miss Tipdnle exits tt. z. with umbrella went? and (~ouder }.~c~t, clociirq floor 1~et~iricl leer. C~ilhert goes D. L. tl~ifl) GILBERT. No, you haven't. But would you care for a glass of cl~~tmpnr~iie an~i ope~i.c cocktail cupbo~n~d door c3isctnsin~ n si~mptiio~is champagne instead? m~~( ~reIl-st~ ,cke~! i~ar. ?o mulience.) Nn office should be without ARNOLD. (Quickly) No—no—no, Mr. Bodley, Miss Whitting-onc. (~Ic rpc}~< <i smn11 "frcc~er" nr~d pits the chr~mpngne in. 1~s ton, up here please. (7-te takes her up onto rostrum c. and he be d~~rs ~o:) T1~at's a lovely load of bubbly. (CJoses bnr door, to drapes the coat over her shoulders and gives C~itbert a dirty lootz a~~d~ri~ce:) ~~'ell, ~,~hat's a courle of bottles of champagne when as he starts to brush, standing x. of f~er.) you're sellin, a £5,000 mink? (7Te picks tine coat up.) WeII, GILBERT. (To audience.) Oh, he's a killjoy, that one, He doesn't actttally, the firm is selling it—but by tlic strangest coincidence, belong in either percentage. Look at him. (Crouch is still fiddling I'm bi~yi~~g it. Not for myself, you understand. Oh, nothing with the coat.) My partner. We've been together now for 14 like that. Oh, no, it's for my girl friend. Now you may well ask years—fourteen agonising, brain -crushing years. ~~~hat am T, a perfectly happily married man for 20 years doing ARNOLD. That's fine. Turn around, please. A little more. Good. with a girl friend. ~YJell, it's a pretty soul-searching question— ~o~'turn again, Miss Whittington. (1ldtriires brick of coat.) There's it's a gcrestion I've been askinb myself for—er-20 years. I'm not another one like it in London! not exceptional. Statistics prove it. 98 per cent of men are born GILBERT. Like what? unfaithful. The other 2 per cent are born liars. But as I was saying, ARI~IOLD. My flared bottom. I am buying this coat for Janie McMichael, an exotic beaaty of GILBERT. (Laughing.) Well done, Crouch. ARNOLD. What? some 28 siunmcrs—and 38 bust. No~+~, tlierc is only one tiny fly in GILBERT. That was verging on a funny. the oi~~tment—Janie's husband. Janie and I feel that he might get ARNOLD. What was? a trifle sa~picious if she were to arrive home wearing this £5,000 GILBERT. (To audience.) Fourteen years. mi~ik. ~1'/rI1, he might. So— I lave evolved a scheme of infinite ARNOLD. (Referring to coat.) Yes, that's lovely. Mr. Bodley, s~ihticty end some considerable brilliance. (7ctkc°s aye eiTveJope woald you care to run your hand over the— f r orri leis po~kct.) F Iere is £4,500 that I have just withdrawn from GILBERT. (7-te pats her bottom.) Indeed I would. my pri~•ite account. \'/hen Mr. McMichael arrives here, he will be ARNOLD. Mr. Bodley! (Smacks his hand away.) Thank you, offer -ec? this e~gtiisite coat for £~~~—cunning, yes? The firm gets Miss Whittington. I'll send for you again when the McMichaels its X5,(.)00. A1r. !~lc~4icliael bets ~ fantastic bargain for £500— amve. 5 9

GILBERT. If not sooner. (Gilbert follotus Miss 'Whittington to door tt. t. Sbe s}Miles nt biirt end gently closes it in 1~is fnce.) ARNOLD. Really, Mr. Bodley, ho~v can you when your wife's ativay? GILBERT. How can I when s;ie's not? ARNOLD. Mrs. Bodley would be broken-hearted if she knew as much as I know. GILBERT. She'd also be pretty stcipid. Anyway, what about yon and our secretary? ARNOLD. Miss Tipdale? GILBERT. (Sensuot~siy.) Ambrosine. ARNOLD. I've never even addressed her as Ambrosine. In all the years she has worked here my conduct towards her h1s been exemplary. GILBERT. What! D'you mean you don't fancy her? ARNOLD. I never said that. Whatever my feelings towards Miss ?~ipdale might be I would never allow them to jeopardise the efficiency of our organisation. If she and I were to be Locked in that storeroom overnight with a crate of champagne she would emerge untarnished. (~rnotd drapes fsir nn settee, and brushes if.) GILBERT. (?o nudience.) The trouble is he means it. ARNOLD. Mrs. Bodley wauId be quite horrified if she knew the real reason behind the quick turn -over of models here. GILBERT. Oh, stop droning on about my wife. She's away on holiday in the South of France, the sun is shining, business is booming. And you're about to conduct your first sale! ARNOLD. It's all very well— {Realising.) I—condact a sale? GILBERT. Your finest creation there. (Indicnting trunk.) ARNOLD. I couldn't possibly when you've instigated the sale with Mr. McMichael. GILBERT. On the contrary, I've never met Mr. McMichael. ARNOLD. (7nnocentJy.) Oh, I see! Then all your spade -work has been done with Mrs. McMichael? GILBERT. (?o audie►ice.) He's getting warm, isn't he? ARNOLD. I still see no reason why you shouldn't complete the transaction. GILBERT. (?o aticlience.; Not as warm as I thought we were. (lie puts his arm around llrnold's shoulder a~i~t ivnikr 1~i~n to n. x. c. about beJocU pouffe.} Arnold! My dear ald friend. My dear, ]0 dear, dear oId friend. Has nothing begun to sink into that brain of yours? ARNOLD. (1l f ter a pause.) Mr. Bodley! You haven't formed an association with Mrs. McMichael? GILBERT. (7o audience.} My God, he's quick. ARNOLD. It's appalling, Mr. Bodley. GILBERT. It's delightful, Mr. Crouch. Oh, I'II never forget that nightclub where I first saw Janie McMichael! ARNOLD. Nightclub!? GILBERT. Yes. There she was, dancing away looking as pretty as the day she was born. ARNOLD. (~orri fied.) Do you mean to say she's a stripper? GILBERT. She is a "Striptease Artiste:' ARI~tOLD. Oh! GILBERT. A young lady of infinite charm and breeding. Debutante. of the year in 1960. And as you may or may not know that was a vintage year for debs. ARNOLD. And this is the young lady who is married to Mr. McMichael? GILBERT. Precisely, and for reasons of my own I wish to Lavish Janie with this £5,000 mink, so when Mr. McMichael is offered this unique garment for £500 he'll snap it up. ARNOLD. £500? We're sellinb it to him for five thousand pounds. GILBERT, (7-toldinq ottt a tveil-failed envelope.) Here is £4,500 which I withdrew from my private account this morning. Good luck with the sale. ARNOLD. It's despicable, Mr. Bodley. I~lothing more than pay-ment to Mrs. McMichael for services rendered. GILBERT'. She hasn't rendered anything yet. That's why I'm hav-ing to buy the damn thing. ARNOLD. You mean you haven't yet—er—er— GILBERT. No, I have not yet "erred." She's a very good girl—bue that's all being changed tonight. ARNOLD. Tonight? GILBERT. She's told her husband she has a cabaret engagement in Paris and as you know Maude is on holiday. ARNOLD. Mr. Bodley! You're not taking the young lady round the corner to your penthouse? GILBERT. Where else? You kt~o~v I've a1H•ays been one for my home comforts. Oh, I've organised this one well. Her overnight I1

bag is already there. A profusion of flowers in every room. And the "piece de resista~ice," a present laid ottt on the bed. ARNOLD. What is it? GILBERT. A set of frilly lingerie. (7:iii~s bic bmTds g1ceJ~{1ty.) ARNOLD. Damn it, Mr. Bodlcy, you are— GILBERT. Lucky is the t+•ord you're looking for. (71~e i~iternUl tetepliorie riitgc, Gilbert tiffs receiver. On phone.) Hullo .. Oh, good, they are here. Rinht. One second. (7-te pt+ts the phone down, to Arnnicl.) That's Janie and Mr. McMichael. Into battle, Crouch. ARNOLD. 1 refuse to participate in such a wicked scheme. GILBERT. You oId ~,~oman, you. ARIVOLD. I can't help thinkinb of your wife all the time. GILBERT. (P~t=pied.) Can't you? You must control that! ARNOLD. You're treating everybody very shabbily. GILBERT. What are you talking about? ARNOLD. Well, poor Mr. I~1cMichael mainly. Not only are you trying to steal his wife's affections, you're also bettinb him to put up £5~Q towards the expenses. GILBERT. (7o Arnotd.) Pm doing Mr. McMichael a favour. He'll have a wife who's the envy of the west -end. ARNOLD. He is still being duped. GILBERT. ~~'IeII, for a bloke ~+~ho's never bought his wife more than a fifty pound sheared raccoon, he's doing very nicely. (?hrust-ing irtoney oft l~irfi.) You'lI cope splendidly, Crouch. ARNOLD. I don't want anything to do with it. I welt remember my father saying "He who touches pitch—" GILBERT. Just take it. (lIs Gilbert tries to force tl.~e e~~i~elope of money onto lfrnolci, Miss 7'ipc~ale enters.) ARNOLD. (7o Gilbert.) No. GIL$ERT. Take it. ARNOLD. No, I won't. GILBERT. ~ (7ogetber.) ~ T~~`e it' y MISS TIPDALE. Excuse me Mr. Bode — (The tivo men br•enk apnrt, and Arnoici is ieft 1?olding the money.) ARI~tOLD. (~liistereri.} Ah, Miss T'ipdale—who?—what—why? —when? MISS TIPDALE. I bc~~ yntn - pardon. GILBERT. What is it, Ti~~ers? Come, come, come. Stogy loakin~ at 1~1r. Broach as tlioir~l~ he ~~ ere the last of a dying species, llnd you, G -ouch, stop looki:i~ as thot~gli you arc. Z2 MISS TIPDALE. Mr. McMichael is getting impatient. GILBERT. So am I. MISS TIPDALE. Shall I show them in? GILBERT. Yes. (§filbert moves to storeroom door.) ARNOLD. No! (70 ~14iss ?ipdale.) Ask them to wait, please. MISS TIPDALE I gather Mr. McMichael is in a hurry. GILBERT. Well, show them in, you silly Tippers. MISS TIPDAL.E. Very good, Mr. Bodley. (She exits u. z., closing door.} GILBERT. Do your stuff, Crouch. I'12 be in the storeroom. (?-fie throws the fur coat to Arnold.) ARNOLD. Something is bound to go wrong. I've never sold a coat in my life! GILBERT. If you can't self a £5,000 coat for £SOO T you mast be an absolute idiot! ARNOLD. I know. Haven't you always said— GILBERT. Shut up! (7here is a knock of the door..Qrnold grabs ,Gilbert.) ARNOLD. (frightened.) Yodll have to do it. Knowing what I know I can't possibly face Mr. McMichael. GILBERT. How do you think I feel, yon fool? ARNOLD. Mr. Bodley! (Gilbert exits door x. Miss ?ipdale enters from u. L.) MISS TIPDALE. Mr. McMichael's on his way in! Oh Mr. Crouch. Where's Mr. Bodley gone? ARNOLD. Out of his mind! (Arnold rushes off n. x.} MISS TIPDAI.B. What about Mr. and Mrs. McMichael? (7-iarry and 7anie 9(4c~Kicbael enter from u. z. 7-Tarry is a handsome, well-huilt man in his forties. 7-Ie is the oumer of several gambling casi-nos. Janie is tall, slender and soigne. She is the epitome of sensecat sophistication.) HARRY. How mach longer are you going to keep us waiting— MISS TIPDALE. I'm awfully sorry, Sir, but there seems to he some slight .. . HARRY. Where is everybody? MISS 'TIPDALE. Er—I think perhaps they're unwell. HARRY. What? Mr. Bodley or his partner? MISS TIPI?ALE. Well, both seemingly. ►ANTE. (70 ~4iss ?ipdale.) Both of them? t-~ARRY. There must be SOMEBODY we could see. 13

MISS TIPDALE. Oh, yes, of course, normally, Mrs. Bodley would be here but she's away on holiday. JAMIE. (7n mock surprise.) Really? How nice for her. MISS TIPDALE. Yes, it is actually. She works awfully hard. She won't be back for another fortnight, so I'm afraid .. . HARRY. Look, jast show us this mink coat my wife's been telling me about. MISS TIPDALE. Well, I'm not quite sure where it HARRY. Please go and find it, I have another appointment. MISS TIPDALE. (Going to tl~e storeroom door.} Yes. Do take a seat. HARRY. Thank you. MISS TIPDALE. (Opera door.) If you could spare a moment, Mr. Crouch or Mr. Bod— (She is yanked in smartly by CJ iibert. As she disappears:) —ley! (7be'door is shut.) HARRY. {~rowiiirzg.) What's going on here? JAMIE. Don't be impatient, darling. There's no rush. HARRY. I've got to get back to the office and you're catching a plane to Paris. JAMIE. Oh yes, of course, Paris. HARRY. It's a pity you can't do these one-night stands a bit nearer home. JAMIE. Well, that's show business. HARRY. If you'd been going later in the week I'd have come with you. JAMIE. Oh, Harry, what a shame. HARRY. Yes. The syndicate is opening another casino over there. (7Kr. ~rerichnrn enters from u. z., tenving door open.) MR. FRENCHAM. Oh, hello— Is this Bodley, Bodley and ... ? HARRY. Yes, it is. MR. FRENCHAM. Good. Can't stay. Now look, if you see the wife te11 her I'm double parked and to wait here while I drop anchor round the corner. Blasted woman's gone off with the six-pences. (.7t~tiss ?ipdaIe r-e -enters from door a. x., pushed in by filbert. ?-ie shuts door.) How do you do— Mr. Frencham—can't stay. (~Tr. 'Frerichatt: exits u. L., Ienvinq door open.) MISS TIPDALE. Won't he long now, Mr. McMichael. HARRY. lYlho is going to show me this mink? A91SS TIPDALE. There seems to he some slight difference of opinion. 14 HARRY. Well, will you tell them to get it sorted out? (?he door n. x. opens and ~i76ert pushes ~Qrnold out with the mink coat dining outwardsJ. '14~itbout seeing the others be tries to get back in bu# Bodley has locked the door..arnold ratties it.) MISS TIPDALE. Mr. Crouch!— ARNOLD. ('lybipping round.) It's locked± (?~ie rattles it again and then realises that he is not alone. Covering up.) Yes. 'c'hat's locked. That's definitely locked. We have to be very careful, you know. Make a note of that, Miss Tipdate. "The door is definitely locked at 12.20." HARRY. (Pointedly.) I had an appointment for 22.15. I'm not usually kept waiting. ARNOLD. I'm terribly sorry. It's been one of those days. Would you like to come back tomorrow and you won't be kept waiting at all? MISS TTPDALE. (7Vervously.} Er—Mr. and Mrs. McMichael want to see the coat. HARRY. Are you sure Mr. Bodley isn't available? ARNOLD. No, I'm afraid not. I wish he were, but he just doesn't feel up to it. JAMIE. (7-IuskiIy.) How very disappointing. (She gives Arnold a knowing u~nk. 7-ie Hearty dies.) I found your Mr. Bodley most charming. ARNOLD. I'm sure. JAMIE. And very eager to interest me in something. ARNOLD. I'm sure. HARRY. (Innocently.)• Oh, so you're not the man who's been dealing with my wife. ARNOLD. No!! HARRY. I am not deaf, Mr.—er— ARNOLD. Crouch. I'm Crouch. Arnold Crouch. Make a note of that, Miss Tipdale, I'm definitely Arnold Crouch. Arnold with an R—and Crouch with a C,-R,-O,-ll, and finishes off with an ouch. MISS TIPDAL.E. Is anything the matter, Mr. Crouch? ARNOLD. (Shakes head.} No. JAMIE. Well, I'm sorry Mr. Bodley is not here. But I'm sure Mr. Crouch will be equally helpful. ('Winks again.} ARNOLD. (Mustered.) Well, I do know that Mr. Bodley would much rather have handled you himself— (Stops, realising wbaf he's IS

said.) When I say handled I— (firs. ~rencb~m enters u. z., feav-ing door opera. Sbe comes down c. steps and to ~. of 7ltiss 7ipdale.) MRS. FRENCHAM. (As she enters.) George! George! (Sees 7~iarry nnr~ ~ntzie.) Oh, do forgive me. Have you seen my husband, Miss Tipdale? MISS T'IPDALE. Well, not actually to talk to. MRS. FRENCHAM. Oh, dear. Your doorman has found us a parking meter, and now I've lost my husband! JANIE. He was here just a moment ago. MRS. FRENCHAM. Missed him again! He mast have gone down in the elevator. I'm using the stairs these days. Good for the tum-t~. (She exits u. L., lenving door open.) HARRY. If it wouldn't be too much to ask, Mr.—er— ARNOLD. —er— MISS TIPDALE. Crouch. ARNOLD. Crouch. HARRY. Yes, Crouch. ARNOLD. Arnold Crouch. HARRY. Yes. Just show us the mink. ARNOLD. Ah, yes. The mink. Now where is it? HARRY. I don't know where it is. MISS TIPDALE. (Pointing fo cont over Arnotd's artn.} Isn't that it, Mr. Crouch? There. ARNOLD. Oli, yes. So it is. I'm terribly sorry. (~Te opens it out. Janie rises and takes if.) JANIE. Qh Hany, darling. Isn't it the most devastatingly lovely thing you've ever seen? MISS TIPDALE. (Adoringly.) Mr. Crouch designed it, you know. JAN1E. Don't you find it affects you handling these divine furs all the time? ARNOLD. Well, I'm sometimes troubled with little bits of fluff. (Looks at 7-Iarry.) In the nose and the throat! HARRY. (Angrily.) You really are wasting my time, you know. MISS TIPDALE. I'll get our girl to come and model it for you. HARRY. There's no need for that. Slip it on, Janie. JANIE. No, I want to see it for myself. HARRY. (?0 94'tiss ?ipdale.) You put it on, will you? MISS TIPDALE. Bat I'm not the same shape as your wife. I TARRY. We11, somebody put it on! 16 ARNOLD. (7o Narry.) Shall I or will yov? (7 -tarry gives him a Iook.) I'll ring for Miss Whittington. HARRY. Never mind. (?o Miss ?ipdale.) You pat it on. (She does so, and Iooks vaguely uncomfortable in it.) JANIE. Oh Harry, darling, isn't it the most gorgeous colour? (?o Miss 7ipdale.) And it must be so warm. MISS TIPDALE. (Ecstaticnlly.) It's the most lovely thing I've ever seen. HARRY. (TTon-committally.) Yes, well—I don't know. ARNOLD. ('With pride.) You don't know!? D'you mean to say you can stand there viewing this unique achievement and then ex-press some doubt as to its supreme merit, when every single tiny hair on it cries out "perfection"! HARRY. All I said was I don't know. ARIVOLD. Then allow me to tell you, Mr. McMichael, that I know the pedigree of each pelt personally and each otte is chosen for its size, colour and texture so that— HARRY. I'm a very bury man. (Looks at his watch.) I have to get back to the office. ARNOLD. Yes of course. Have you got your car with you? HARRY. No, I always use taxis. ARNOLD. (Calls.) Taxi! Miss Tipdale, get a taxi, please. MISS TIPDALE. Yes, Mr. Crouch. (Starts to go.) JANIE. I'II put it on now. (She does so. 7~tiss 7ipdaIe goes, leaving door open.) ARIVOLD. tt looks even more beautiful on you, Mrs. McMichael. JANIE. Thank you. And it's such a fantastic bargain at five hun-dred. ARNOLD. Yes, fantastic is the word, isn't it? Do you know, sir, that each pelt in that coat comes from an exclusive breed of female Canadian wild mink and these are bred in only one square mile of Northern Alberta. In short this is one of the most valuable coats we've ever had. HARRY. Then why is it only five hundred pounds? ARNOLD. That's a very interesting point. But I won't bore you with the explanation. HARRY. Try me. ARNOLD. No—I assure you, it wouldn't interest the layman. HARRY. Oh, I know a little bit about furs. ARNOLD. (Nonplttsse~i.) Oh. Not so much a layman after all. 17

(Staltrng for time.) How abort you, are you a good lay, madam— er--good Iay woman, madam. HARRY. (~inaJly.) Now look here— What about the price? ARNOLD. Won't accept a penny less than five hundred. HARRY. Why is it going cheap2 ARNOLD. Is it? I didn't hear anything. (Puts his ear to the coat.) HARRY. God! (To Janie.) Come on, let's go. (qtr. ~rencham enters from v. L. leaving door open and along rostrum to C. fol-towed by Miss ?ipdale.) MR. FRENCHAM. Oh, blast! don't say 1've missed her again. MISS TIPDALE. She's taken the stairs. I believe the doorman is gaarding a meter for you. MR. FRENCHAM. That's no use now. Tell her I've gone to Chelsea Police Station. MISS TIPDALE. Yes. Sha11 I say why? MR. FRENCHAM. Damn car's been towed away. (7 -le exits u. L.) HARRY. We're going too. JANIE. But Harry, the mink. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. HARRY. I've had enough. JAMIE. But, Harry, you promised— HARRY. Ipromised nothing. (Turns to yo.) ARNOLD. Please, Mr. McMichael, we must have something that would interest you. I've got an ocelot, I've got a leopard, I've got a beaver. MISS TIPDALE. (~riters.) I've got a taxi. HARRY. Thank God for that, I've had enough of this place. JAMIE. But, Harry darling, you haven't bought the mink. HARRY. No and I'm not going to. See you later. ARNOLD. Please don't go. I tell you what. Perhaps you'd care to see my latest mole. HARRY. My God! (~~e exits with ~btiss 7ipdale. ?here is a pause.) JAMIE. (?o Arnold, sweetly.) Well done, darling. ARNOLD. Thank you. (Gilbert enters, fuming.) GILBERT_ Cretino~Ts Crouch. What have you done? What have you done? ARNOLD. Noth;ng. GILBERT. Nothing? You've ruined everything. ARNOLD. i did my best, Bodley. 18 GILBERT. (?o au~iertce.) Best?! (70 ?anie.) Janie, my proud beauty—what can I say? I'm abject, desolate, undone. JANIE. (4ently.) It ~,~as just one of those things. GILBERT. It was sheer disaster. Crouch handled the whole thing lice a fumbling three year old. JANE. Ivo, Poppet. It could have happened to anyone. GILBERT. (Sligbfly surprised.) I must say you're taking it re-markably well. JANIE As Mr. Crouch said, he did his best. ARNOLD. Yes. GILBERT. Shut up, Crouch! JANIE. Now don't ruffle yourself, Gilbert. GILBERT. What a sweet, kind, understanding woman you are. JANIE. Of course. GILBERT. (?o Arnold.) Crouch, have you ever met such a sweet, kind, understanding woman? ARNOLD. Well, there was one occasion when I was camping in Cornwall. GIL$ERT. Take it from me, my darling, he hasn't. Now. I'm sorry about this little contretemps, but 1'll make it up in some other way before tonight. JAMIE. All right. (She gives hi»s a kiss.) GILBERT. Not in front of Crouch. We'll have to doctor his after-noon tea. JAMIE. Goodbye, darling. Goodbye, Arnie. (Sipe moues towards the door u. t.) GILBERT. Er—one tiny moment, beloved. JAMIE. (?urriing.) Mm? GILBERT. You've—er—forgotten the coat. JAMIE. No, 1 haven't. Goodbye. (She moves to go again.) GILBERT. Beloved, believe me—it's still adorning your graceful shoulders. JAMIE. Can you think of a better place for it? (Si»iply.) Gillie, yon promised it to me. ARNOLD. l don't know what to say! GILBERT. Shut up, Crouch! (?o Janie.) My angel, yon must realise that the status quo has suffered a minor catastrophe. TANIE. You promised me the coat, GilIie. I'm going to have if. ARNOLD. I think you're to have a bit of trouble, Mr. Bodley! GILBERT. Shat Grp, Crouch! (?o Janie.) You must see, Janie, that 19

fair you to become the rmud Pnc~e~crn- ~f thic cmt is ttnty frattgltt with diffieulticc of rlerlianti~ic prornrtinnc. JANIE. I sec no difficairy. I simply ~~ alk out through the door. GILBFRT. \Vhat do ~~ou gay ~+•hen ~•ou come face to face with your husband? JANIE. f fello, Marry, look .•hat Gillie gave me. (Gilbert stands there agl~nst.) GILBERT. But if yoe[ tell Harry I gave it you he'll—he'1! think— he'II• }ZHJ1t~N~e11 he'I! tl.~r'~ri; he knoH•s that I~I—I—I—I— (To 11r»otd.) Crouch, say something. ARNOLD. I pays. GILB~RT. Janie, c+•as it not you, yourself, who said you had no wish to hart Harry's feelings? JAI~3IE. Ah, that was before I knew how stingy he was ('Vamping him.} Now, how mach ~+~as my Gilly Willy prepared to pay to-wards this coat? GILBERT. Er— JANIE. Four and a half tho~ccand. GILBERT. True. JANIE. (7Uitb nrzn rnuncl bi~~i.) And that k~as just for an outside chance in the d'sstant future. GILBFRT. (On ed~~e.) ~\'lell, I ti.•ouldn't put it like that— JANIE. And ~-Iarry ~.~ouidn't even pay flee hundred. ARNOLD. For a sure thing rvery ni;~ht. (They boob look n! }~itri.) ~~Iould it he bettrr if 1 retired? GILBERT. tt heads the agenda for the nest meeting. JAN1E. GoodUye, darling. {:lfoi~~~s in gn.) GILBERT. Scup. You arc not going ti ith that coat. JANIE. ~Y1e1l, I'm not going H~ithout it. GILBERT. You arc not Leaving the buitdiny! JANfE. (Gipitiil~~tin~2.) All right. If you say so, my darling. I will stzy with pleasure. (S)~e pnces seductineiy o~i the couch. Gilbert nitre ~Irnold lo~~k nppreb~•~isively at encl~ ot)~er.) GILBERT. Janie, the rnzt and no more of yotcr nonsense. I am not to be put upon. JAMIE. I shall stay here tmtil I get my o~~~n way. ARNOLD. Oh dear. GILBERT. Crouch! A fruitless attitude. JAdVIE. You think so? GILBERT. The customers will call as usual and will see nothing 20 unto~~'ard in :: Pretty ~irj cittin~ nn a couch. (~nnre ret~~ones t}~e io~~t.) So staff• z~ loran as yc~u like, that is if yntt don't mind Ueinb ignored. (Thrviigbout the enstc;r,q sj~eecb, ~n~ie removes f~er dress ,i}td cfockincJ~ aa~A ctnnc~c t1u•rc in 1~rn, par~tiec nr~d chow.) /1RNOLi~. AID! G_LBERT. \'/ill you be quiet! ~RNOLD. 1 k~as only gninr to say— GILBERT. Not another ~~~ord. We men don't give w•ay to feminine blackmail. In the course of a varied and I m:iy :add, not uninterest-ing life, many "'omen leave tried to score off Gilbert Bodley. None I'm proud to say have so far succeeded. (~Ir>iold turns and does a double-tnke orT seeing ~nriie in a stripper's pose. ~-(e beco»ies ex-tr-ernely ngitafed nric~ tries fo attract Gilberf's nttenfion by mitning a strip -tense act. (jilb~rt briisl~es bitn ofJ.) I know I may sound hard and cynical, Arnold, but firmness is the only znswer to a woman's wiles. Come along, Crouch, business as usual. (Stiii not seeing Barrie, he goes to tl~e telej~bone aria lifts the receiver.} Tip-pers. 1~1iss Tipdale, come along, where are you? Let's have a little speed and efficiency. (Arnold is tugging at his sleeve.) Desist, Crouch. (7n phone.) 1s anybody there? One knock for yes and two knocks for no— Ah there you are. Is there anything 1 should be looking into? (Arnoid nods furiously crud points at `~anie.) ... . Oh yes ... well a brief note I think should suffice ...take this down. "Dear Lady Dixon ..." (7-ie sudde~iJy sees Janie.) Strewth!' (Bungs the receiver dotcm.) Your clothes, Janie! Far God's sake do sor_~ething! JAN1E. AlI right, darling. (Sipe deliberately enniks to tine i,~indoiv nr~d tosses them out.) C,ILBERT. Janie! What are you doing? JANIE. Nothing, darling, just going home. Goodbye, Arnie. (She walks totunrds fbe door u. t.) ARIVOLD. Stop her, Mr. Bodley. GILBERT. Janie!! (?af~ie gets to the door. ?hey both dive to stop her.) JANIE. Rift I thought you k~anted me to go without the coat. ARNOLD. Come away from that draughty keyhole. (?here is a kTiock at t1~e door. 1Irnolc~ grubs the mink enc~ throws it over her sbouic~ers. ?n doing this Arnolri gets his brand underneath fhe coat rand on ~anre :s bosom.) GILBERI'. Who is it? Who is it? 21

MISS TIPDALE. (OJj.) M;~s Tipdalc. GILBERT. You can't come in. I~1ISS TIPDALE. (Fnte~r:, )~~~rinq d~~<~r ~~hc~i.) [bed; your pardun. (Sbe stops c), ort rni •r~•i~i4 ~Jrnrl,!'s I,~~rt~1 wicler ~auie~s Boni. `)ti'itb n l~orri(ic•cf Inuk on iris Jaye ~lrnul,! sl~~ivfy rcfiioi~cs bis aint. ~ti+~ 7ip~lnle 11~~+ r~otebonk iii bet bnn~f.) GILBERT. (Af ter a pause.) What d'you want? What d'you want? MISS TIPDALE. We were cut off, weren't we? GILBERT. (Tlot i~ridei:cinitding.) I should hardly think so. MISS TIPDALE. But Lady Dixon's letter. GILBERT. Well, open it, open it. MISS TIPDALE. No, you were corresponding with her. GILBrRT. With a woman of eighty? Now get out, Tippers! MISS TIPDALE. But is this all you wish to say to the Iady? GILBERT. What? MISS TIPDALE. "Dear Lady Dison—strewth!" GILBERT. It's brief and to the point. MISS TIPDALE. Isn't the language a little strong for Lady Dixon? GILBERT. It's lucky for her it wasn't a damn sight stronger. Now get out, Tippers! (iYtiss Tipdale is bustled out by Culbert Bubo closes r~oor. Gilbert ttif -ns to 'Jnziie.) Now, Janie, I am prepared to overlook everything if yoa'll be reasonable and go. (7ri answer 7~inie sediictireiy pislls ot~t her:rndone bra front inside the fur coot eiid tbe~i calti~ily steps nut of her panties. She bolds the parities in ore £~arici nn~ tine hra in the other. Gilbert is stunned as Annie i~~alks to the o~err tnindotn ar~d tosses both bin Arai parities out. ~Irnol~t rushes to Gil~~ert iii terror.) Janie! Are you bereft of ail— ARNOLD. Indeed she is. GILBERT. Crouch! (70 Annie.) You're raving mad. ARNOLD. Stark raving. GILBERT. Crouch! Janie! For heaven's sake, show us a Iittle pity! ARNOLD. No, don't show us that— GILBERT. (~oresfnlling 1lrnotd.) Crouch! (~anie sits sexily on the conch and crosses 1~er Legs. filbert anct Arnol~P, open-anouti~erl, ore relieved that riotl~in_q further is revealed.) JANIE. Do I detect a note of panic creeping into that hard cynical firmness? GILBERT. Panic? Never. Just a touch of sheer terror. Come along, Janie, Ptl retrieve your garments. Then as Shakespeare said, "put your clothes on and go home." 22 ARNOLD. I don't think he did. GILBERT. Who? Did what? ARNOLD. Shakespeare, say "put your clothes on and go home." GILBERT. He mist have. We've all said it. (Arsiold ponders fbis.} ARNOLD. I haven't. GILBERI'. (7urns nngrity.) Stop arguing! Do something. Get her off the couch, Crouch. (71~ere is a k~tock nt t1~e doof•. Crlbert and 1lrnotcl qurckIy sit either side of her. ~rr~old wraps tl~e collar ~irmly ar•octrsd ~nttie anrl, in doing so, his bnrid irra~Ivcrteritly goes un..er il~e cost once more. ~4iss 7ipd~:Ie cnter:~ ar~d ngnin slops short ori seeiri~ 1Irnold's llni:rt udder the coat. ~rnol~f slowly tnkes l.~is 1~and out. At the last moment his band s?sakes and ire h~~r•riedty rests it on his leg.) What is it, Tippers? Can't you End somethinb better to do than fly in and out of that door? (;ltrss 7ipdale Jooks of ibe three of them witi~ growing suspicion.} MISS TIPDALE. It's Phillips, the doorman. GILBERT. What about him? MISS TIPDALE. He's rung up front drnrii~tairs. GILBERT. Splendid. if anyd~ing else starling occurs during the day, don't hesitate to let us know. MISS TIPDALE. He's just seen some woman's clothes falling down. GILBERT. Phillips is having quite a day, isn't hc? MISS 7"IPDALE. He thinks they came from this direction. A dress and stockings. ARNOLD. What about underwear? MISS TIPDALE. Underwear? ARIVOLD. No, it's all right. I suppose they take Ionbcr to land. GILBERT. Why? (JlrnoJd mimes a bra ~Toatirlq cioin~►.) Have you finished, Crouch? ARNOLD. Yes. GILBERT. You'd better bring them inside, l~4iss Tipdale. It looks bad. MISS TIPDALE. I'm afraid I can't. GILBERT. Why not? MISS TIPDALE. They've landed on top ~,f a niimher 9 btis and they've gone off. GILRERT. Where to? MISS TIPDALE. Westminster Ahhc~-. GIL$ERT. God! 23

ARNOLD. 1 never knew the number 9 bus went past the front door. I always get the tube to Tottenham Court Road and— GILBERT. Quiet. (Tl~e irttercont pboiie rir~)s.:ltiss Tipdalc lifts tine receiver nf~d cpe~7its.) MISS TIPDALE. (On pl~onc.) Salun, here ... Oh. Ycs, Phillips . . . . . .. . . . ... i see .. 'Iliank you. (Sbc piety IJ~c receiver cio~vn and hir~}is to tbe~rtt.) The underta~ear's landed. GILBERT. Incredible. MISS TtPDALE. Ycs, he's positive it's fallen from this direction. GILBERT. That's quite ridiudous. llon't you agree, Crouch? AI2NOLD. Oh, quite. I've never seen a fallen woman's underwear. GILBERT. Be that as it may. (70 :Miss Trpdate.) Retrieve them. You never know, they may fit one of us. MISS TIPDALE. That's impossible. GILB£RT. ('TUit1~ n Iat~gh.) Ah, we could always have them let ot~t. MISS TIPDALE. No, ,-hat I mean, Mr. Bodley, is they're irre-trievable. GILBERT. How so? MISS TIPDALE. The underwear has caubht up on the minute hand of our clock... , GILBERT. God, how• I suffer! Not a very good advertisement, Mips Tipdale. Get them off at once. (~~e pushes ojf n beivrtctered 7f~iiss ?ipdaJe ioho shuts the door.) JANIE. Are you ready to give in yet, Gillic? GILBERT. Never! (71~ere rs a knock nt the door -. C~ilyeri an t 1lrnold fly to eiti~er side of 7n~iie, b~u(i(y r-emrnnge

the

jur

on her and look innoce~~t. Arnold, without thinking, gvei to put iris bar:c~ raider ~a►tie's Cont. C~ill~ert slaps it. Miss Tipdale enters as Arnold is shaking leis band acid leaves door open.) MISS TIPUALE. Excuse me, A9r. Bodley— GILBERT. You're popping in and out of that duur like a demented cuckoo. MISS TIPDALE. (Sligbtty put ~~ut.) lUcll, I just chovght Madam would like to know that Mr. McAlichael has returned. ARNOLD. How marvellous. GILBERT. How terrible! ARNOLD. How terrible! GILBERT. (?o ~airie.) Now, I hope you're satisfied. Quickly, into the storeroom. (7-ie opens il~e door v. x. and pusi~es her off, Ieav-24 iftq !be door nj~~r. ~nriie f<ikec ber 1~n~ ~nilh l~cr -.) Croudi, you're in diarge. ARNOLD. I flatly refusc— GILBERT. Shut Grp. I~-9iss Tipdaie, arc ~~uu prepared to lend a hand in our time of need? ARNOLD. Mr. Bodley, you can't possiUIy involve Miss Tipdale in yoar erotic intrigue. GILBERT. Let the Iady speak for herself. (70 ;ltics 7ipc~nle.) May I involve you in my erotic intrigue? MISS TIPDALE. Well, I'm prepared to go so far, and no further. GILBERT. Bear that in mind, Crouch. (To ;hiss ?ipc~nle.) Show Mr. McMichael in. JANIE. (Opening door.) What about my underwear? GILBERT. Show that in, too. (7-Ie ~usl.~es Janie oul tl~rougb door n. rt., rand then follows her ire ~+~icl shuts door.) ARNOLD. No, no, please. F'm not up to it. (Ar -~iolcl crosses fo door and grabs the hnndIe. 7t is lockecJ. .4rr~otc~ is n~rce ac~nin struggliriq tvitb the door bnlTctle res 7lnrry enters tln~ot+_gl~ r~nor u. z., ie~avirtg it open.) HARRY. How mach longer do you—? (7~e steps oii seeing .Arnold iu the snfrie posifion nt the door. llrrioid srn;tes fooIisl~ly nt bi~ri.) ARNOLD. Yes, that's locked. Still locked. Make a note of that, will you, Miss Tipdale. Door still locked at 12.28. (7~nrry gives l~irri n "deadpan" look.) HARRY. Look here, has my wife gone? ARNOLD. Oh, yes, very. She's been gone a long time. When did she last go, Miss Tipdale? MISS TIPDALE. (70 ~~arry.) I think she left when you did, virtually. ARNOLD. (Quickly.) Yes. She was as virtual when she left as when she came. HARRY. (Slightly confii.sed.} What? ARNOLD. We made a note of it, didn't we? MISS TIPDALE. If you'1! excuse me, Mr. Crouch, I'll jest go and see to that other matter. ARNOLD. No, I think I'd prefer you to stay, please. MISS TIPDALE. Don't you want me to see about the thinns on the clock? ARNOLD. O~i the clock? MISS TIPDALE. The little things dangling from ilie minute hand. 25

ARNOLU. (L'~~nkc pit ii~i~tcb.) I shot~tdn't worry, I~1iss Tipdale. It's nearly 12.30, and ~+•hen it is, they'll drop off. (71e »umcc them droppi~t~ o.(f t1~c 1~~:~acf.) MISS TIPDALE. 06. (1is;1fi:.:TihJ~ilr exits tt. t.. firs. ~rcncba~i~ enters, teaviric~ door open.) MRS. FRENCHAM. Miss Tipdale .. . MISS TIPDALE. Not now, madam. (She goes.) ARNOLD. (Picking up her oceiot.) Oh, Mrs. Frencham—there hasn't been a moment to brush it. MRS. FRENCHAM. Have you seen my husband? ARNOLD. Yes. Now it's all right. He's at Chelsea Police Station. MRS. FRENCHAM. Chelsea Police Station?! ARNOLD. Yes, he was committing a minor offense in the street. MRS. FRENCHAM. George! (She puts ~z bnrul to lu~r brow anr~ exits, te~ving door open.} HARRY. (7tt~~atieritly.} Now look here, Mr.—er—er—er— ARI~IOLD. —Er— HARRY. Crouch. ARNOLD. Thank you—I had it ribht on the tip of my tongue. HARRY. I'm a very busy man, and I haeedt time to beat about the bush. ARNOLD. Oh, what a shame. HARRY. Well now, about this business— ARNOLD. (Nervously.) Business? HARRY. 'The mink. ARNOLD. (Detigl~icJ.) Oh, the mink? I -IARRY. Yes, the mink. ARNOLD. Nothing else? ~-IARRY. (~1 -o~vriirig.) No. ARI~IOLD. The coat, the ~,~hole coat and nothing bat the coat? HARRY. What else? ARNOLD. What else—yes! MARRY. I've been thinking it over and I've decided ro change my mind. ARNOLD. Ole, Mr. McMichael, I can't tell ynti how thrilled I am! _1-IARRY. Good. ARNOLD_ I'II get the coat immediately. Now, where—~li yes. (ate conies to 11~e [Ioor D. R. buf it's locked. 7~Ie besitcztec, rettie~n-26 berinq that ?-Larry's tvrfe is naked in there. Goudiy for filbert's benefit.) So you've changed your mind, Mr. McMichaeI? HARRY. (~Iinching slighlty.) Yes. ARNOLD. (`When the door rioesn't open, shocitin~.) Changed your mind about the mink, Mr. McMichael. HARRY. (dyeing him.) Yes. ARNOLD. (Shouting.) Good. You shall have it at once. Mr. McMichael. The mink, Mr. McMichael. (Bangs door. The door operTs and ,Gilbert enters brigTitly cvitb the mink.) GILBERT. 'Morning, Crouch. 'Morning, Sir. (Ne hands Arnold flee mink anc~ goes straigF~t bnclz into the storeroom.) ARNOLD. How's that for service? (~iIbert hnving seen ibe nude Janie comes noshing beck on, grabs the ocelot from 1lrnold, slings it through the door as~d shuts it.) This is Mr. Bodley, our Managing Director. GILBERT. How do you do? HARRY. Ah, Mr. Bodley. My wife has met you, I think. GILBERT. Yes. HARRY. But I haven't had the pleasure. GILBERT. (Pointedly.) Neither have i. (7~~J•ry frow~Ts and looks nt Arn~~lci. Arnold tries to Inugb.} HARRY. Five hundred I think yo~t said the price was? (C~iIbert pits his arms around 7-Larry's shoulders.) GILBERT. Indeed it was, dear, dear, dear Mr. Michael. HARRY. (70 ~li~noid.) I never realised how much seliina a coat meant to you fellows. ARNOLD. Oh, yes. ~~1e become personally involved with our customers. (Looking at ~Cilbert.) Some of ❑s more than others. (parry takes out an enorrrious sand of £7o notes.) HARRY. Five hundred. And I want a receipt. (7-~nrry moves fo table to count out tl~e tnoriey and sits chair x. of table.) ARNOLD. Certainly. Ovr cashier will give you one. (~4~tiss 7ipclale enler:c door u. L. leavin_q it ohen.) MISS TIPDALE. Excuse me, Mr. Bodley— GILBERT. Ah, Miss Tipdale! Have you got those things off the clock yet? MISS TIPDALE. Nn, !'m afraid not. GILBERT. \~/hy not? MISS TIPDALE. A Qust of ~~•in~ blew them unto the roof of a passing taxi. (Cilbert ~looks at the audience i~z disbelief.) But I've 27

phoned through to the boutique next door, and they're sendins some up. GILBERT. Get it right away. MISS TIPDALE. There is one other thing, Mr. Bodtey. GILBERT. What is it? MISS TIPDALE. A Mrs. Lawson is outside. GILBERT. Mrs. Lawson? (7-larry Jooks up from counting tb~ money.) HARRY. 'That's my secretary. Send her in. MISS 1'IPDALE. (Calling off.) This way please, Mrs. Lawson, (~Viiss ?ipdnte omits as Sue Lawson enters. She is a short cuddly blonde baggage about z3. Tloll~ing up top but everyt{ping to make up for it elsewhere.) SllE. I got your message to meet you here, Mr. McMichael. HARRY. Yes, that's right. Just try this on for size, my darling, (Ne drapes the conf over her shoulders. Arnold and Gilbert gap e nt each other in horror as fbe full implication dawr:s on them.) SUE. (Snuggling in coat.) Oh! Oh! ARIVOLD. (To audience.) Oh, what a tangled web we weave— GILBERT. Oh, shat up. SUE. Oh, it's Iovely, Mr. McMichael. (S~ie emits a silly giggle.) Yoe shouldn't have. GFLBERT AND ARNOLD. (Together to audience.) No, he shouldn't have. HARRY. (To Sue.) You like it then, do you? SllE. Mr. McMichael. (Slie giggles.) I don't know how to thank you. ARNOLD. Nell think of something. HARRY. It's a present for being a very good girl. (~-i~rry goes back to chnir R. of fable and sits counting out the £500. Arnold and Culbert are left c~umbjoundeA.) ARNOLD. (Quietly to Gilbert.) It certainty pays to be a good girl these days. (Sue is aclsniring herself.) GILBERT. Have you any other interesting observations to make? ARNOLD. Yes. I'll bet this is the first time you've spent four -and s a-half thousand pounds on someone else's mistress. GILBERT. Good God, he can't get away with this! Crouch, get the champagne round. (~rnold goes into the cocktnil bar n. ~. having taken 3 glasses from top acrd one bottle from freezer. Door D. L. left opera.) 28 SLIE. Oh, champagne! HARRY. No, we're in a hurry. SUE. Oh, I'd do anytivng for champagne. GILBERT. (70 7-larry.) You still say "no"? HARRY. WeI1, perhaps just a quick one then. Here's your 300. GILBERT. (Not taking it.) Now it's fanny you should mention that, Mr. McMichael. Now what would your reaction be if I told you that I'd trade ateensy-weensy mistake—now, you might say I said that coat would be £500. HARRY. You did. GILBERT. Did I? Ah, now that might be my teensy-weensy mis-take. I~Tow just supposing that I'd mislaid a zero. What would you say? HARRY. I'd say "What the hell are you talking about?" GILBERT. (Laughs.) Yes, I thought you might! (?hen, to audi-erice.) I feel i11. (Arnold arrives with tray and three glasses of champagne Leaving door n. z. open.) ARNOLD. Here we are, Mr. Bodley. GILBERT. Ah! Get the glasses round, Arnold, will you please. (1lrnotd does so.) I always think business sho:tld be mixed with a modicum of pleasure, don't you? I think you might join as, Arnold. ARNOLD. Well, I don't drink normally. (~IrnoJd goes to Cocktail bar with tray.) GILBERT. ('With false gaiety.) No. Usually on all fours out of a saucer. (7-ie laughs. J(rrold gives him a look and exfts.) SLIE. I don't get it. GILBERT. You will. (flrnold bas returned with a giass o f cbam-pagne.) Well, to coin aphrase—"Cheers." (?be men drink.) SLtE. May all our troubles be little ones. (?he men splutter.} GILBERT. To return to the case of the missing zero— I just want to bring to your notice a mere trifle, a mere petite chose, a mere poco poco. HARRY. What are you drivelling on about? GILBERT. (7o audie»ce.) I wish I knew. HARRY. (70 ~Irnoid.) There's your 500. Take it. (Arnold does.) Thanks for the drink. GILBERT. Mr. McMichael! If I told you that coat might be worth 5,000 what would you say? HARRY. I wouldn't say anything, I'd be too busy laughing. 29

ARNOLD. Oh, that's very good. (Arnold Iaugbs, Sue joins in. Cit-bert looks at tine audience for sympathy.) HARRY. Let me put it another way. The deal's done. ARNOLD. No, don't put it another way! (~►~tiss 7ipdaJe enters. She is carrying a gaper bag, from an ~clusive boutique.) MISS TIPDALE. Excuse me, Mr. Bodley, I think I've got just what you want. GILBERT. Good. Let me pull the trigger! MISS TIPQALE. It's for, "you know," in there. (She quicizty shows him the conteiats ar«i shuts it again.) SUE. You know? ARNOLD_ Mr. Bodley's bird. HARRY. Your bird? GiLBERT. Yes. My parrot actually. ARNOLD. 'This is "you knows" lunch. (Arnold takes the carrier bag.) HARRY. (?0 7~fiss 7ipdale.) Look, miss, would you mind getting me a taxi? MISS TIPDALE. Certainly, sir. HARRY. I've wasted enough time here already. (Miss 7ipdale exits.) Ai2NOLD. I'll just give this to you know. (ale rftoves to the siore-room door.) GILBFRT. (Shouting.) NO! Wail till our guests have gone. SUE. Oh, let me see her. GILBERT. Don't open the door, she's moulting. SUE. I love parrots. GtLBERT. She's having a rest before lunch. SUE. Oh, I'd love to feed her. ARNOi.D. No. GILBERT. She won't be hungry yet. She had a very Tate break-fast. SI..IE. Please! ARNOLD. We'lI feed it to 'the pigeons instead. SUE. Lovely. Let me. (Sf~e takes the bag from Arnold tuho bangs onfo it.) ARNOLD. I~1o. Don't pall it. SUE. Please! (They are ctruq~)lin~~ :t~ifb F~~a~l.) GILBERT. (riJ}~ert inkes hn~l.) Do yotr mi~id not interfering kith our domestic arrangements? - 30 fIARRY. (7lnrry takes hag.) Do you mind not interfering with my secretary? If she wants to feed them, let her. (?tarry gives the bag to Sue.) ARNOLD. (Sriatri~es the bag.) Come and get it! (.Arnold gory up steps x.—to tvirulows c. Ope~is them and tips the contents straight out of ibe window. ~'eliing.) Stop that bus! SUE. Mr. Crouch! What is it? GILBERT. Too late. They've flown off. SUE. Oh, that was quick. ARNOLD. (?tirnirrg from windoto.) Yes, they don't hang about those number nines. BARRY. {?o Sue.) Come on, Sue, let's go. ARNOLD. One moment, pray. GILBERT. It's worth a try. Let's both pray. (Props on his knees.) SUE. Are you feeling all right, Mr. Bodley? GILBERT. Far from it. (CiJbert gets up again.) ARNOLD. No, Mr. Bodiey, at a time like this, the only solution is to bare one's breast. Don't you agree, Mrs.— (7-Ie pulls up short.) Yoa see, there has been a very grave miscarriage of price tags here. GILBERT. It's hopeless, Crouch. ARNOLD. Into, Mr. Bodley. You see we have sold Mr. McMichae] this coat for £500 when in actual fact HARRY. tf you're going to tell me it's worth ~tve thousand, you can whistle for it. (Crlbert whistles.) ARNOLD. In actual fact it is worth a mere £100. HARRY AND GILBERT. What? ARNOLD. Yes. That is nothing more than dyed rabbit. HARRY. Now, just a minute. What are you trying to pall? ARNOLD. Nothing, I assure yon. HARRY. I think I'm entitled to an explanation. I'm in the dark. GILBERT. And I'm right there with you. Come on, Croach. ARNOLD. Very well. Seated one day in the storeroom, I was weary and— GILBERT. Tell it, don't sing it. ARNOLD. —1 had two coats side by side. One was the genuine mink—the other, this rotten, old dyed rabbit. Are you with me? GILBERT. No, not quite. ARNOLD. Well, in the half -Tight of the storeroom I inadvertently got the price tags the wrong way round. (7here is a slight patice as they aJl taiZe tF~is in. Gilbert starts to unite.) 31

SUE. D'yoa mean this isn't a genuine mink? ARNOLD. No, I'm afraid not. The resemblance between mink and this rotten old lump of dyed rabbit is quite striking but suger-ficial. SUE. Oh, Harry. ARNOLD. Don't you like it? HARRY. It looks like the genuine article and that's all that matter. (7o Sue.) Agreed? SllE. Well, 1 mean, you did promise me a real one. HARRY. Who's to know? ARNOLD. Mr. McMichael, a genuine mink will always have about it an air of unrestrained flamboyance whereas this very soon looks an anxious and frightened thing. (They aII look at the coat.) HARRY. (Cf ettirtq Qiigry.) So why didn't you trot out a few of these facts earlier? GILBERT. We're at fault. We freely admit it. It wasn't until Crouch saw the lining that the hideous truth struck home. SUE. (Taking cont ojf.) Lining? GILBERT. (Takes coat from i~er.) Yes. HARRY. What's wrong with it? GILBERT. What's wrong with what? HARRY. The lining. GILBERT. Ah, you may well ask. HARRY. I do ask. GILBERT. Crouch, tell him. ARNOLD. I thought I'd finished. HARRY. What's wrong with the lining? It looks perfect. ARNOLD. That's the trouble. It'll outlast the coat. (~41rss ?ipdale enters from door u. z.—Leaving it open.) MISS TIPUALE. Excuse me, Mr. Bodley. GILBERT. Not now, Tippers, please! MISS TIPDALE. Mr. McMichaeI's taxi. HARRY. Ah yes, I'll be there in a minute. (To 1lriiold.) Now then, you tell me that this bundle of rubbish is worthless. ARNOLD. A mere one hundred pounds. HARRY. Then give me back my 500. ARNOLD. Certainly. (lakes notes out of brs pocket and gives , them to ~-Iarry.) SUE. (Disappointed.) Oh, Harry. 32 HARRY. Shut up, angel! (7urns his back on them and counts it quickly.) GILBERT. (Surreptitiously shakes 1~rr~otr3's hand. To ?-Tarry.) If you should care to call and select another coat ...don't hesitate to do so. HARRY. Thank you very much, bat I'm not interested in any other coat. You did say one hundred, didn't you? (Ti~ri~cts £100 into 1Irnold's band. ~Ie rfrnpes tt~i~rk over Sue and ushers her out. Gilbert nrid 1~rnoict stare at encb other open-rrioeit)~eet.) MISS 7~IPDALE. Will there be anything else, Mr. Bodley? GILBERT. God, I hope not. ARNOLD. (Rafher dn_ed.) When k•ould you say things started to go wrong, Mr. Bodley? GILBERT. (Controlling his tefnper•.) Fourteen years ago, when you came to me straight from college—yoa walked through that door and you said— (~nnie enters D. R., still wearing 7t4rs. ~rencbam's ocelot, and stays by door.) JANIE. Gilbert, do you realise I've got no underclothes? GILBERT. Or words to that effect. MISS TIPD~ILE. Mrs. McMichael! GILBERT. Get the lady her underclothes, Tippers. MISS TIPDALE. But I did get them. CILBERT. Well, get them again. MISS TIPDALE. What happened to the last lot? GILBERT. Need you ask? JANIE. WeII, what ~~id happen? ARNOLD. I fed them to the pigeons. GILBERT. Ask a silly question. JAMIE. And who was that woman with Harry? (Croticb and Bodle_y exchcxric~e n tunr-rierl look.) GILBERT. Woman? What woman? JAMIE. Well, I was trying to listen through the door and it sounded like a woman. GILBERT. No, no, there hasn't been a woman here, was there, Arnold? Only l~9iss Tipdale. ARNOLD. Yes, she often sounds like a woman. (~Itiss 7ipdate re-ncts to this.) GILBERT. Don't staid there ]ookino Like a puzzled secretary, Tippers. Go and het a repeat order of linberie. (~fi~s 7i~dale exits.) 33

JAMIE. Well, has Harry reconsidered and bought the mink forme? ARNOLD. Yes. GILBERT. No. JAMIE. What? ARNOLD. No. GILBERT. Yes. JAMIE. Welt, which? GILBERT. Neither, actually. I've just remembered. Crouch sent it to the cleaners. ARNOLD. What? JANtE. The cleaners? But it was brand new. GILBERT. Ah, but he'd been mishandling it very badly. JAMIE. (?o ./IrnoJd.) 1s Gilbert telling me the truth? GILBERT. ('Warningly.) Crouch! ARNOLD. (lakes deep breath.) Mrs. McMichael—in my opinion Mr. Bodley would not recognise the truth if it came in here at the top of a twenty foot pole and waggled in his face. GILBERT. Don't listen to him! Janie, the only flower in my garden of love. The only star in my constellation of passion. The only— turn around, Crouch. (./~rnoJd does so.) —the only promise of summer in, shall we say, the autumn of my life. ARNOLD. Shall we say winter? GILBERT. In the corner, Crouch. (~trnold turns again.) To tell you the truth, my darling, there has been a slight temporary hitch, but no matter—we can iron it out in bed tonight. JAMIE. Only if I've had my mink. GILBERT. All I'm saying is that surely a mere mink won't jeopar- `; dise oar journey to paradise. JAMIE. (Sweetly.) And all I'm saying is, if I don't get it, neither do you. (~anie moves towards the balcony, going up c. steps. She ;. stops and turns on top sfep.) GILBERT. Where are you going? JAMIE Out onto the balcony. I'm merely going to stand there, open my coat wide and scream. GILBERT. But that's ridiculous. JAMIE. No, darling, blackmail. (She turns u. again, operas the ~rencb windows and goes out onto the balcony.} GILBERT. This is all yoar fault, Crouch. ARNOLD. But she's not actually going to— GILBERT. Of course not. {~anie, iirith her back to fbe audience, calmly operas 1~er coat wide and screams long and loud. ltrnold and fjilbert are so shattered that they rush around like ttuo de -34 rnertecl i~~ivts. ~i~~n11y f1~ey r1rv~~ her b~:ck into lbe salon, botdiny her coot doscrl ns ~11iss 7ihdale from u. z. eiders, leaving door n~e~1, sf~e reacts ns the perfect unrufjTect secretory. Arnold has sat 7~taie nn lbe couch a! t. C. enc! slid tbert sits on ber lap. Cjilbert stands L. of them-1~oldinQ 1lrnold's bnrid.) MISS TIPDALE. (Cai»tty.} Could I interrupt for a moment? GILBERT. Can't you see we're busy? (riIber -f, realising be's F~old-irrg a man's band, drops it.) ARNOLD. I'm not enjoying this, Miss Tipdale. MISS TIPDALE. I think you ought to know that someone has just got out of a taxi. GILBERT. I don't care. MISS TIPDALE. Well, yon ought to. It's your wife. (Miss 7ipdale exits u. t. on her tine—leaving door open.) GILBERT. Yes, thank you— My wife! (Ciiber -t then dashes up C. steps to door.) ARNOLD. (7►t horror.) Mrs. Bodley! (Mvude walks iii briskly. "Cilberf qt+ickly embraces }per attd spires leer round so that her back is to Arnold and Annie. Gilbert indicates to ./~rnold that be should t~~ke ~nrsie into the sforeroorn n. rt. Arnold is so terrified that he takes cover inside ~ar►ie's coat. Arnold atzd 7anie worrn their way info the storeroom, ioitb CiJbert gesticuJnting madly. GIs soon as they're go►ie be spins ;1(nude roiurd again and gives 1~er a sntacizing kiss.) GtLBERT. Good to see you, Maude. (dint<de is nobody's fool. She is nri nttrnctire, btcsiriesslike ii~omnn of about 90 artd is r~uite a sexy lady.) God, it's good, Maade, it's really good to see you, Maude, good to see you, God, it's good, really good, Maude. Good to see. MAUDE. (Casi~nlfy.) Thank you, darling. What's on your mind? GILBERT. Nothing! God, it's good to see you, Maude, really good. You're supposed to be in Monte Carlo! MAUDE. Well, I discovered that a month is far too long to be without you. GILBERT. Yes, I know exactly how you feel. (roes for - tl~e cham-pagne.) Yau're just in time for some champagne. MAUDE. Oh, lovely, anything special to celebrate? GtLBERT. Er—since you mention it, no. We don't need anything special, for heaven's sake, do we? God, it's good to see you, Maade. 35