The Real Inspector Hound and Other Plays (11 page)

THELMA
: Who said he was blind?
You
say so——

HARRIS
: (heatedly) He had a white stick, woman!

THELMA
: (equably) In my opinion it was an ivory cane.

HARRIS
: (
shouting
) An ivory cane IS a white stick!! (
This seems to exhaust them both
,
THELMA
irons placidly, though still rebellious. After a while
…)

THELMA
: (scornfully) Pyjamas … I suppose he was hopping in his sleep. Yes, I can see it now—a bad dream—he leaps to his foot, grabs his tortoise and feels his way into the street——

HARRIS
: I am only telling you what I saw! And I suggest to you that a blind one-legged white-bearded footballer would have a hard time keeping his place in West Bromwich Albion.

THELMA
: He was a young chap.

HARRIS
: (
patiently
) He had a white beard.

THELMA
: Shaving foam.

HARRIS
: (
leaping up
) Have you taken leave of your senses?

THELMA
: (
strongly
) It was shaving foam! In pyjamas, if you insist, striped in the colours of West Bromwich Albion, if you allow, carrying under his arm, if not a football then something very similar like a wineskin or a pair of bagpipes, and swinging a white stick in the form of an ivory cane——

HARRIS
: Bagpipes?

THELMA
:—
but what he had on his face was definitely shaving foam!
(
Pause
.) Or possibly some kind of yashmak.
(
HARRIS
is almost speechless
.)

HARRIS
: The most—
the very most
—I am prepared to concede is that he
may
have been a sort of street arab making off with his lute—
but young he was not and white-bearded he was!

THELMA
: His
loot?

HARRIS
: (
expansively
) Or his mandolin—Who’s to say?

THELMA
: You admit he could have been musical?

HARRIS
: I admit nothing of the sort! As a matter of fact, if he had been an Arab musician, the likelihood is that he would have been carrying a gourd—which is very much the shape and size of a tortoise, which strongly suggests that I was right in my initial conjecture: white beard, white stick, pyjamas, tortoise. I refuse to discuss it any further.

THELMA
: You’ll never admit you’re wrong, will you?

HARRIS
; On the contrary, if I were ever wrong I would be the
first
to admit it. But these outlandish embellishments of yours are gratuitous and strain the credulity.

THELMA
: (
sighing
) We should have stopped and taken a photograph. Then we wouldn’t be having these arguments.

HARRIS
: (
morosely
) We wouldn’t be having them if we’d stayed at home, as I myself wished to do.

THELMA
: It was for mother’s benefit, not yours. She doesn’t often ask to be taken anywhere, and it didn’t cost you much to let her have her pleasure.

HARRIS
: It cost me ten shillings in parking tickets alone.

THELMA
: It was only one ticket, and it was your own fault for not putting any money in the meter. The truth is that we are very fortunate that a woman of her age still has an active interest, even if it is the tuba.

HARRIS
: Active interest?—she’s an obsessed woman; dragging us
halfway across London—you’d think having one in the house and playing it morning, noon and night would be enough for anyone. It’s certainly too much for me.

THELMA
: She’s entitled to practise, just as much as we are.

HARRIS
: But it’s our house.

THELMA
: You shouldn’t have asked her to move in if you felt like that.

HARRIS
: It was your idea.

THELMA
: You agreed to it.

HARRIS
: I agreed to her living out her last days among her loved ones—I said nothing about having her underfoot for half a lifetime.

THELMA
: You said it would be useful for baby-sitting.

HARRIS
: We haven’t got any
children
!

THELMA
: That’s hardly her fault. (
Pause
.) Or mine.
(
HARRIS
gets slowly to his feet
.)

HARRIS
: How dare you? How
dare
you! Right—that’s it! I’ve put up with a lot of slanders but my indulgence is now at an end. This is my house and you can tell your mother to pack her tuba and get out!

THELMA
: But, Reginald——

HARRIS
: No—you have pushed me too far. When I married you I didn’t expect to have your mother——

THELMA
: (
shouting back at him
) She’s not my mother—she’
s your
mother!

HARRIS
: (
immediately
) Rubbish!
(
However, he sits down rather suddenly
.)
(
Calmer
) My mother is a … tall … aristocratic woman, in a red mac … answers to the name of …

THELMA
: That’s your Aunt——

(
HARRIS
stands up and sits down immediately. His manner is agitated. He is by now fully dressed
,
THELMA
folds the ironing board and takes it out of the room
,
MOTHER
enters, from her bath, robed or dressed, without the bathing cap, but still hopping on one foot. She hops across the room
.)

MOTHER
: The bulb in the bathroom’s gone again. (
She leaves by
the other door
.
HARRIS
gets up and goes to the cupboard, extracting his waders
,
MOTHER
returns, hopping, carrying a large felt bag
.) I let the water out.
(
HARRIS
stuffs the waders back into the cupboard. He moves towards the door, but is most unsettled. He halts, turns and addresses his
MOTHER,
who is now on the wooden chair
.)

HARRIS
: (
rather aggressively
) Would you like a cup of tea, Mum?
(
The old lady is startled by the appellation. She looks up, straight ahead, then turns to look at
HARRIS
in a resentful manner
.
HARRIS
quails. He turns and is about to leave again when there is a loud knocking on the street door
.
MOTHER
continues fiddling with the felt bag, from which, at this moment, she withdraws her tuba
.
HARRIS
,
with the air of a man more kicked against than kicking, approaches the pile of furniture and begins to take it apart as
MOTHER
puts the tuba to her lips
,
MOTHER
plays while
HARRIS
moves the furniture piece by piece into its proper place.
Before he has finished
,
THELMA
enters with a drink in one hand and a flower vase in the other. She puts them down and helps
HARRIS
with the heavier pieces. The long, low table is placed centrally under the lampshade. The settee goes behind it and a comfortable chair goes either side. This is managed so that
MOTHER
does not have to move from her position on the wooden chair, or desist from playing her jaunty tune, until the last stages, just before the police enter. When they do so
—
INSPECTOR FOOT
and
PC HOLMES
—
everything is in place, the wooden chair put back against the wall, and the three people seated comfortably
.
THELMA
smoking and holding her drink; the tuba out of view, perhaps behind
MOTHER
’
s chair. The only surviving oddity is the fruit basket, when the door is finally flung open and
FOOT
charges into the room, right downstage, with
HOLMES
taking up position in a downstage corner and naturally looking a little taken aback
.)

FOOT
: What is the meaning of this bizarre spectacle?!!
(
Pause. They all squint about
.)

THELMA
: The counterweight fell down and broke. Is that a crime?
(
FOOT
clasps both hands behind his back and goes into an aggressive playing-for-time stroll, passing
HOLMES. FOOT
speaks out of the corner of his mouth
.)

FOOT
: Got the right house, have you?

HOLMES
: Yes, sir.
(
FOOT
continues his stroll
.
HARRIS
would like to help
.)

MOTHER
: (
uncertainly
) Is it all right for me to practise?
(
FOOT
ignores her, his eyes darting desperately about until they fix on the table-lamp
,
FOOT
stops dead. His head moves slightly along the line of the lampshade, reading the words scrawled on it
.)

FOOT
: (
triumphantly
) Reginald William Harris?

HARRIS
: Thirty-seven Mafeking Villas.

FOOT
: You are addressing a police officer not an envelope. Would you kindly answer my questions in the right order.

HARRIS
: I’m sorry.
(
FOOT
turns his back on
HARRIS
,
denoting a fresh start, and barks
.)

FOOT
: Reginald William Harris!

HARRIS
: Here.

FOOT
: Where do you live?—
you’re doing it again
!!!

MOTHER
: Who is that man?

FOOT
: I am Chief Inspector Foot.
(
HARRIS
rises to his feet with a broad enchanted smile
.)

HARRIS
: Not Foot of the Y——

FOOT
: (
screams
)
Silence!
(
FOOT
starts travelling again, keeping his agitation almost under control, ignoring
MOTHER’S
murmur
.)

MOTHER
: Can I practice now?
(
FOOT
arrives at
HOLMES
,
and addresses him out of the corner of his mouth
.)

FOOT
: Quite sure? You never mentioned the fruit.

HOLMES
: (
plaintively
) There was so much else …

FOOT
: Better have a look round.

HOLMES
: Yes, sir.
(
THELMA
ignores the convention of the ‘aside’, raising her voice and her head
.)

THELMA
: I’m afraid things are a bit of a mess.

FOOT
: (
briskly
) I can’t help that. You know what they say—clean knickers every day, you never know when you might be run over. Well it’s happened to you on a big scale.
(
HARRIS
regains his feet
.)