The Roundabout

J. B. Priestley

• Publisher: Oberon Books
• Year: 2016
• Print ISBN: 9781786820174
• eBook ISBN: 9781786820181
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

The Kettlewells are a dysfunctional family. Richard is a charming old Etonian whose business ventures are failing. Over a crowded weekend, his daughter Pamela, whom he hardly knows, returns from Russia, a passionate communist; his ex-wife and mistress both unexpectedly arrive; and his butler has a big win at the races. The Roundabout is a funny, touching, highly perceptive look at an England in the 1930s, when it seemed, just possibly, as if the social order might be changing.

ACT I

The lounge drawing-room of Lord Kettlewell’s country house. On the right and at the back there are French windows opening on to a garden, which can be seen. On the left at the back is the main door, and on the extreme left is the service door through which the butler and the parlourmaid come and go. There are bookcases, small tables, a settee and several easy chairs. There is also a small desk at which LORD KETTLEWELL is seated when the curtain rises. He is dressed in tweeds, and is a middle-aged man of some presence and consequence, but not too domineering or pompous in manner. It is a fine morning in late summer or early autumn, and though LORD KETTLEWELL is looking through some documents, he obviously does not intend to spend the rest of the day working. He gets up for a cigarette, lights it, then returns to his desk just as his friend and guest CHURTON SAUNDERS – middle-aged, spruce, amiable, and a talker – lounges in and stands near the door for a moment.

SAUNDERS: (Coming into the room.) Good morning, Richard.

LORD KETTLEWELL: (Looking up.) Good morning, Chuffy. What do you mean, you idle devil, by coming down so late?

SAUNDERS: It’s no use. I’ve got into the habit now of coming down late when I week-end in the country. I cultivated the habit so that I wouldn’t be shown things. I hate being shown things, and if you don’t come down very late, when you’re staying in the country, your host or hostess insists upon showing you the double delphinium border, or the pigs, or the twenty-acre field, or the rood screen in the church. And now I’ve got into the habit, I can’t break it.

LORD KETTLEWELL: You didn’t expect that I’d show you anything, did you, Chuffy?

SAUNDERS: No, I knew you better than that.

LORD KETTLEWELL: Well, you were wrong. I’m going to show you some ruins.

SAUNDERS: Oh no, Richard. I loathe ruins.

LORD KETTLEWELL: These aren’t far away. They’re there. (Pointing to papers on desk.) Here are the ruins of four well-known limited companies.

SAUNDERS: (Looking with mock attention.) They’re not very picturesque.

LORD KETTLEWELL: (Grimly.) They are when you get to know them better.

PARSONS enters.

PARSONS: Beg pardon, your lordship, but word has just come through that Mr. Gurney’s on his way.

LORD KETTLEWELL: Is he driving down?

PARSONS: Yes, your lordship. He left London over an hour ago.

LORD KETTLEWELL: He ought to be here any minute, then. I want to see him the moment he comes.

PARSONS: Very good, your lordship.

Goes out.

SAUNDERS: Who is this Mr. Gurney who will arrive any minute?

LORD KETTLEWELL: Gurney – Farrington Gurney – grandson of the old admiral. He’s my secretary.

SAUNDERS: Then, what about that useful and severe female I’ve seen you talk to in town? Isn’t she your secretary?

LORD KETTLEWELL: Yes, but she’s different. She only knows typewriting, shorthand, book-keeping, French, German, Italian, and the finer points of English grammar.

SAUNDERS: Just one of the ignorant masses.

LORD KETTLEWELL: Exactly. Young Gurney doesn’t know any of these things and so he gets three times the money. He’s an Etonian. He was out East for a time – tea-planting.

SAUNDERS: If ever I have any money again – which is most unlikely – I must go out East and see them plant tea. I suspect you have to do it with polo sticks and the handles of cricket bats. But what does this ex-tea planter do for you?

LORD KETTLEWELL: Oh – he arranges things for me – a sort of combined business and social secretary. He talks like a fool sometimes – and I’m not sure he doesn’t look like one – but he’s got his head screwed on.

SAUNDERS: That must be wretched for him. I’ve always been glad my head hasn’t been screwed on. I like to keep moving it about.

LORD KETTLEWELL: Well, you haven’t used it much so far today. Do you know I’ve done a good morning’s work?

SAUNDERS: Why be so virtuous about it? You’ve only been taking money away from people.

LORD KETTLEWELL: (Firmly.) I’ve been working.

SAUNDERS: That’s what I say. You’ve been taking money away from people who can’t afford it and people you’ve never even met. Probably widows, orphans, and retired rural deans.

LORD KETTLEWELL: Don’t be so old-fashioned. You can’t take money away from people like that anymore.

SAUNDERS: Why not?

LORD KETTLEWELL: They haven’t got any. And I’ve not been making money. One can’t make money any more. I’ve been losing it. Everybody is.

SAUNDERS: So I understand. Tell me, Richard – who gets the money that all the people who make money are losing?

LORD KETTLEWELL: Nobody gets it. It just dwindles.

SAUNDERS: Like woollens in the wash.

LORD KETTLEWELL: Yes – or like an ice in the sun.

SAUNDERS: Don’t be poetical, Richard, or you’ll soon lose all your money.

LORD KETTLEWELL: I shall do that anyhow.

SAUNDERS: Then you must stop trying to make money. Obviously it’s too expensive. You must economise by going in for pleasure instead of business.

LORD KETTLEWELL: I can’t waste my time like you, Chuffy.

SAUNDERS: Not yet perhaps, but it’ll come with practice.

LORD KETTLEWELL: I like to work hard and then to play hard.

SAUNDERS: And I don’t know which is the greater mistake.

ALEC GRENSIDE enters. He is a carelessly dressed, rather fierce young man, carrying a sketch-book.

ALEC: I’ve been having another look at those panels and I’ve made some rough sketches (Catching sight of SAUNDERS.) Oh, sorry!

LORD KETTLEWELL: That’s all right, Grenside. You don’t know one another, do you? (To SAUNDERS.) He’d turned in when you arrived, last night. Mr. Churton Saunders – Mr. Alec Grenside.

SAUNDERS: How d’you do? Didn’t I see a one-man show of yours at the Portland Gallery last winter?

ALEC: I had one there. I sold two pictures. It didn’t pay expenses.

LORD KETTLEWELL: Nothing does nowadays.

SAUNDERS: Not even the funerals of rich aunts. But I liked your work. Are you going to do those panels in the library?

ALEC: I hope so. (To LORD KETTLEWELL as he moves to the desk.) I’ve made some rough sketches – very rough. Nothing you’d recognise yet. (Handing sketch-book.)

SAUNDERS: That sounds as if there might be something in the end he will recognise. You mustn’t be old-fashioned, Mr. Grenside.

LORD KETTLEWELL: Well, go ahead. (ALEC turns away.) But I’d better warn yo...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Characters
• Act I
• Act II
• Act III
• By the same author