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ACT ONE
Scene One
The Residents’ Lounge of The Falcon, at Milchester, Lincolnshire.
Downstage left, a door marked ‘Lounge Bar’. Upstage left, a curved counter marked ‘Reception’, behind which is a door bearing the label ‘Private’. Back left, swing doors leading onto a road. Large bow windows at the back, with window seats. A staircase, right, leading to a small landing at the back and thence out of sight. Downstage right, a door marked ‘Coffee Room’. Centre right, a fireplace with fire burning.
On the rise of the curtain the sole occupant of the room is COUNTESS DORIS SKRICZEVINSKY, a carelessly dressed woman in her early thirties, inclined to fat. She has fallen asleep in a large armchair, a copy of Everybody’s open on her lap. A wireless at her side emitting, at intervals, the trumpeted call sign of the BBC.
PETER KYLE, a man of about thirty-five, dressed in correct country attire – too correct to be convincing – comes in from the road, carrying a suitcase. He looks round, then goes up to the reception desk and rings a small handbell. Nothing happens. He rings again. DORIS wakes up.
DORIS (calling). Mrs Oakes!
MRS OAKES comes in from the door marked ‘Private’, her office. She is a tall, angular woman of middle age.
MRS OAKES. Yes? (Seeing PETER.) Yes? What can I do for you?
PETER. I’d like a room, please.
MRS OAKES. Single or double?
PETER. Single.
MRS OAKES. Quite impossible. I’m sorry.
PETER. Oh.
There is a pause broken by the voice of the BBC ANNOUNCER.
ANNOUNCER. Hullo, Forces! Round the World in Eighty Days. A dramatisation of the novel –
DORIS switches it off. MRS OAKES, paying no further attention to PETER, has come from behind her counter to collect a tea tray.
DORIS (derisively). Round the World in Eighty Days! They do think up some queer ones, I must say.
MRS OAKES. I never listen these days, except to the news. Finished with your tea, Countess?
DORIS. Yes, thank you, Mrs Oakes.
MRS OAKES takes up the tray. PETER is watching her, exasperated.
MRS OAKES. Of course, I’m not saying it would be easy to think up new things all the time.
PETER (loudly). What about a double?
MRS OAKES. You said you wanted a single.
PETER. Yes, but if you haven’t got a single, I’d like a double.
MRS OAKES. I’m sorry. We’re full right up.
PETER. Then why did you give me the choice of asking for a single or a double?
MRS OAKES. You might have been a married couple.
PETER. I might have been a sultan and full harem, but I don’t see that makes any difference. If you haven’t got a room, you haven’t got a room, have you?
MRS OAKES (unmoved). No. We haven’t got a room. (Goes into her office.)
PETER turns round.
PETER. God, what a –
DORIS (excited). Why, it is!
PETER. I beg your pardon.
DORIS. You’re Peter Kyle, aren’t you?
PETER. Yes, I am. (Politely.) I’m afraid –
DORIS. Oh, no. You wouldn’t know me. I saw Light of Love in Milchester only yesterday. Isn’t that funny?
PETER (abstractedly). Yes, it is. (Makes an obvious effort to be polite.) It’s over two years old now – Light of Love.
DORIS. Oh, we only get the old ones in Milchester. Well I never – this is a thrill!
PETER. It wasn’t a good picture either, I’m afraid.
DORIS. Oh, it was quite good, really. One or two bits were rather silly, I thought. You were ever so good, though.
PETER. Thank you very much.
DORIS. Not at all. I always think you’re good.
PETER. I’m so glad.
She stares at him in wonder and awe. PETER is evidently not unaccustomed to this. He walks forward and extends his hand graciously.
How do you do?
DORIS. Oh, how do you do? My name’s Doris. I won’t tell you the other name, because you’d never be able to pronounce it. (Hastily tidies her crumpled frock.) You came over here to arrange about your new picture, didn’t you? I read all about it in the Express.
PETER. Yes.
DORIS. And you’re giving all your salary to the Red Cross. I do think that’s fine. Of course, you’re English, aren’t you?
PETER. By birth, yes. But I’ve been an American citizen for the last seven years.
DORIS. Well, well, well! Peter Kyle! Would you believe it – drifting into the old Falcon just like that – and asking for a room.
PETER. And not getting it.
DORIS. Oh, don’t you worry about that. The idea! (Calling.) Mrs Oakes!
MRS OAKES emerges from her office.
MRS OAKES. Yes? (Glaring at PETER.) I thought I told you – DORIS (excitedly). Mrs Oakes, don’t you know who this gentleman is?
MRS OAKES. No.
DORIS. Look at him carefully and then tell me if you don’t recognise him.
MRS OAKES stares at PETER.
MRS OAKES (at length). No, I can’t say I do.
DORIS. Look again. Look at him side view, then you’ll see. (To PETER.) Turn round.
PETER (embarrassed). I think, if you don’t mind –
DORIS. There! You must know that smile. Who does it remind you of?
MRS OAKES (at length). Mabel Smart’s brother.
PETER. I think I’d better tell you my name straight away, otherwise this might go on all night. I’m Peter Kyle.
MRS OAKES. Peter Kyle?
DORIS. Yes, you know. The film actor.
MRS OAKES. An actor?
DORIS (frenziedly). You must have seen him, Mrs Oakes. He’s at the Palace this week in Light of Love.
MRS OAKES. I don’t go to the Palace. (To PETER.) Have you been at the Odeon in Skillingworth?
PETER. I’ve really no idea.
DORIS. Of course he has. He’s very famous – so please, Mrs Oakes, do try and fix him up if you can.
MRS OAKES (to PETER). How long did you want to stay?
PETER. Just the one night.
MRS OAKES. Just the one night. Well, Countess, seeing that the gentleman is a friend of yours I’ll see what I can do.
PETER. That’s terribly kind of you.
MRS OAKES. Now, let me see. I could put up a bed for him in the attic – only I don’t like to do that because of fire bombs.
PETER. I don’t mind –
MRS OAKES. No, but I do. I don’t want my hotel burnt down.
PETER. But I’m not particularly inflammable.
MRS OAKES. Possibly not – but the bed is. I know! There’s Number 12. Wing Commander Taylor. He’s Duty Defence Officer, so he’ll be sleeping up at the Station tonight. You can go in there. (Opens the register.) Will you register, please? And fill in this form.
PETER. I’ll fill it in and give it to you later.
MRS OAKES. I can’t send you up at once, because the Wing Commander might want to use his room before dinner.
PETER. That’s quite all r...
