The Real Inspector Hound and Other Plays (16 page)

MADDIE
(
concentrating):
Crockford’s—Claridges—the Coq d’Or.

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: Forget—forget.

MADDIE
: Forget. Forget Crockford’s, Claridges, Coq d’Or. Forget Crockford’s, Claridges, Coq d’Or. (
To herself.)
Forget Crockford’s, Claridges, Coq d’Or. Forget Crockford’s, Claridges, Coq d’Or. (
COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
sees that this is achieving the opposite.)

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: All right—tell you what—say you had
breakfast
at Claridges,
lunch
at the Coq d’Or, and had
dinner
at Crockford’s. Meanwhile I’ll stick to——

MADDIE
(
concentrating harder than ever):
Claridges, Coq d’Or, Crockford’s. Forget Crockford’s, Claridges, Coq d’Or. Remember Claridges, Coq d’Or, Crockford’s. Remember Claridges, Coq d’Or, Crockford’s. Claridges, Coq d’Or, Crockford’s, Claridges, Coq d’Or, Crockford’s.

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: But not with me.

MADDIE
: Not with you. Not with Cockie at Claridges, Coq d’Or, Crockford’s. Never at Claridges, Coq d’Or, Crockford’s with Cockie. Never at Claridges, Coq d’Or, Crockford’s with Cockie. (
Her concentration doesn’t imply slowness: she is fast, eager,
breathless, very good at tongue twisters. Her whole attitude in the play is one of innocent, eager willingness to please
.

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
sees that he is going about this the wrong way.)

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: Wait a minute. (
Rapidly.)
The best thing is forget Claridges, Crockford’s and the Coq d’Or altogether.

MADDIE
: Right. Forget Claridges, Crockford’s, Coq d’Or—forget Claridges, Crockford’s, Coq d’Or——

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: And if anyone asks you where you had lunch on Friday, breakfast on Saturday and dinner last night, when you were with me, tell them where you had dinner on Friday, lunch on Saturday and breakfast yesterday.

MADDIE
: Right! (
Pause. She closes her eyes with concentration.) (Rapidly.)
The Green Cockatoo, the Crooked Clock, the Crock of Gold—and Box Hill.

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: Box Hill?

MADDIE
: To see the moon come up—forget Crockford’s, Claridges, Coq d’Or—remember the Crock of Gold, Box Hill, the Crooked Clock and the Green Door——

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: Cockatoo——

MADDIE
: Cockatoo. Crock of Gold, Crooked Clock, Green Cockatoo and Box Hill. When was this?

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: When you were really with me.

MADDIE
: Right. With Cockie at the Green Cockatoo—

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: No
not
with Cockie at the Green Cockatoo.

MADDIE
:—not with Cockie at the Green Cockatoo, the Old Cook, the Crooked Grin, Gamages and Box Hill.

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
(
wildly):
No—look. The simplest thing is to forget, Claridges, the Old Boot, the Golden
quorum can be any number agreed upon by (This is because
MCTEAZLE
is back.)

MCTEAZLE
: Douglas is on his way back. (
Hanging up his hat.)

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: I’ve got to have a drink. (
He leaves, forgetting his bowler hat, as
MCTEAZLE
closes the door
,
MCTEAZLE
starts speaking at once. The italicized words correspond to
COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
’s
momentary reappearances, in the first case to take a bowler hat off the hatstand and in
the second case to change hats because he has taken out
MCTEAZLE
’s
hat the first time.)

MCTEAZLE
: Maddiening
the way one is kept waiting for
ours is a very tricky position, my dear. In normal times one can count on chaps being quite sympathetic to the sight of a Member of Parliament having dinner with a lovely young woman in some out-of-the-way nook—it could be a case of constituency business, they’re not necessarily
screw-oo-ooge is, I think you’ll find, not in ‘David Copperfield’ at all, still less in ‘The Old Curiosity Sho’-
eking though it is, the sight of a Member of Parliament having some out-of-the-way nookie with a lovely young woman might well be a case of a genuine love match destined to take root and pass through ever more respectable stages—the first shy tentative dinner party in a basement flat in Pembridge Crescent for a few trusted friends—Caxton Hall—and a real friendship with the stepchildren—people are normally inclined to give one the benefit of the doubt. But the tragedy is, as our luck would have it, that our gemlike love which burns so true and pure and has brought such a golden light into our lives, could well become confused with a network of grubby affairs between men who should know better and some bit of fluff from the filing department—so I suggest, my darling, if any one were to enquire where you may or may not have spent Friday night or indeed Saturday lunch time or Sunday tea time, forget Charing Cross, the Coq d’Or and the Golden Ox.

MADDIE
: Charing Cross, Coq d’Or, Golden Ox. Charing Cross, Coq d’Or, Golden Ox. Charing Cross, Old Door, and the Golden Cock——

MCTEAZLE
:—Ox——

MADDIE
: Ox.

MCTEAZLE
: The Coq d’Or and the Golden Ox. Not the Golden Cock and the Old Door.

MADDIE
: Not the Golden Cock and the Old Door but the Golden Ox and the Coq d’Or.

MCTEAZLE
: And don’t forget: Charing Cross.

MADDIE
: Don’t forget Charing Cross.

MCTBAZLB
: I
mean forget
Charing Cross.

MADDIE
: Forget Charing Cross——

MCTEAZLE
: Plucky girl——

MADDIE
: Plucky girl—Charing Cross—Olden cocks.

MCTEAZLE
: But not with me.

MADDIE
: Not with Jock at the Old Cock——

MCTEAZLE
: Door. (
This is because the door has opened.)

MADDIE
: Old Coq d’Or—not with Jock. (
CHAMBERLAIN
has entered.)

MCTEAZLE
(
hurriedly):
Hello, Douglas.
(
CHAMBERLAIN
is repellently full of zest and heartiness. He also carries an armful of papers which he dumps on the table. He treats
MADDIE
with open, crude lechery.)

CHAMBERLAIN
: Hello!

MCTEAZLE
: This is Mr. Chamberlain. Miss Gotobed is going to be our clerk. (
CHAMBERLAIN
advances on
MADDIE
who backs off behind her desk and starts opening drawers to look busy.)

CHAMBERLAIN
: What?!—that luscious creature is our clerk! Impossible! Where’s her moustache? Her dandruff? Her striped pants? (
MADDIE
reflexively slams shut her hacker drawer.)
What an uncommonly comely clerk you are! My name’s Douglas. I hope you don’t mind me saying that you’re a lovely girl—I don’t mind telling you that if I wasn’t married to a wonderful girl myself with two fine youngsters down in Dorking and an au pair to complicate my life, I’d be after you and no mistake, (
During the rest of this speech
,
MADDIE
pushes past
CHAMBERLAIN,
goes over to her coat and takes a copy of the
Sun
from her pocket. She returns towards her desk.)
my goodness yes, it would be private coaching in a little French restaurant somewhere, a few hints on parliamentary procedure over the boeuf bourgignon, and then off in the Volvo while I mutter sweet definitions in your ear and test your elastic with the moon coming up over Box Hill. (
As
MADDIE
passes the steps, he gooses her so thoroughly that she goes straight up them, still holding the
Sun.
CHAMBERLAIN
slaps a sheet of paper on her desk.)
Have you an order of business? (
He turns aside.)
Well, well, here we are without a quorum and I thought I was going to be late. (
To
MADDIB
.) You’ll know, of course, that a quorum is a specified number of members of a committee whose presence—God bless them—is necessary for the valid transaction of business by that committee—got it? Good. (
CHAMBERLAIN
opens the
Daily Mirror
to the pin-up page
.
MCTEAZLE
helps
MADDIE
down the steps; her skirt comes away in his hand.)
Strewth! (
After the freeze
MCTEAZLE
tries to shove the skirt at
MADDIE
who has sat down primly behind her desk, but

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
enters so

MCTEAZLE
sits on the skirt.)

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE: DO
we have a quorum?

CHAMBERLAIN
: Hello, Cocklebury-Smythe.

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE: SO
glad you could come, Chamberlain. You know Miss Gotobed?

CHAMBERLAIN
(
over-reacts):
No.

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: Mr. Chamberlain—Miss Gotobed.

CHAMBERLAIN
: I meant I didn’t
know
her.

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: Of course you don’t know her. All we need now is our Chairman. I wish he’d get his clogs on. (
The door opens and

WITHENSHAW,
the Chairman, enters. He is a Lancastrian. He also carries newspapers and a brief case.)

WITHENSHAW
: There’s trouble in
t’Mail
.

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: Mill.

WITHENSHAW
:
Mail. (He throws the papers and his brief case on to the table.)

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: Oh yes.

WITHENSHAW
(
at
MADDIE
): And who have we got here?

MADDIE
: I’m the clerk. Miss Gotobed.

WITHENSHAW
: And I’m Malcolm Withyou! (
He laughs uproariously
.) Malcolm Withyou!—’ee you’ve got to be quick—Malcolm Withenshaw, Chairman of Select Committee on Promiscuity in High Places. Have you got an order of business? (
He snatches Chamberlain’s piece of paper off her desk.)
‘Forget Golden Goose, Selfridges——’
(
MADDIE
snatches the paper out of his hand and hands him in the same movement a sealed envelope from her bag.)

MADDIE
: This is for you.

WITHENSHAW
(
generally
): Before I saw bloody paper I was going to congratulate you all on a clean bill of health. You can’t have a committee washing dirty linen in the corridors of power unless every member is above suspicion. (
On which he produces from the envelope a large pair of Y-front pants which he immediately shoves back into the envelope.)
The wheres and Y-fronts, the whys and wherefores of this Committee are clear to you all. Our presence here today is testimony to. the trust the House has in us as individuals and that includes you Maddiemoiselle. (
To
MADDIE.)
Though you have been completely unaware of it your private life has been under intense scrutiny by top man in Security Service, a man so senior that I can’t even tell you his name——

MADDIE
: Fanshawe.

WITHENSHAW
: Fanshawe—and you passed test. (
He has been looking around for a place to put his pants, and decides on
MADDIE
’s
desk drawer.)
Indeed the fact that you’ve jumped over heads of many senior clerks indicates that you passed with flying knickers. (
This slip of the tongue is because he has discovered the knickers in the drawer; he drops them back and slams the drawer.)
So it is all the more unfortunate to find stuff in the press like following: Thank you Cockie. (
COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
reads from the
Daily Mail.)

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: ‘On the day the Select Committee on Moral Standards in Public Life is due to reconvene I ask—was it wise for one of the members to be seen holding hands under the table with a staggeringly voluptuous, titian-haired green eyed beauty in a West End restaurant at the weekend? And if so, was it modest to choose the Coq d’Or?’ (
Meanwhile
,
WITHENSHAW
has finished scribbling a note.)