Dame Hilda: Ever since we've lived at the old manse, Evadne's mother, Maureen, has paid us an annual visit. But in recent years her annual visits have been getting more frequent. Not that I mind, but Evadne doesn't like it, and Maud doesn't like it, and the cats aren't too keen either. And it is unfortunately true that whenever she's with us, something peculiar happens. One year it was petrol rationing, another it was adders. But the last time Maureen was with us, we really did have a right old how-de-do. {Drawing room.} Dame Hilda: I say, Evadne, are you still out in the hall there? Dr. Hinge: Yes I am Hilda. Why? Dame Hilda: Come into the drawing room for the minute would you? Dr. Hinge: Very well. You know, Hilda, I do wish you wouldn't keep interrupting me, I'm in the middle of linseed oiling my walking stick. Dame Hilda: Oh, you're not going for a walk, are you? Dr. Hinge: No, I am not. But as soon as she comes down, I'm sending mother out for one. Dame Hilda: Why, is she feeling a bit liverish this morning? Dr. Hinge: If she isn't, she should be. She has done nothing but eat, drink and sit about being waited on ever since she arrived here. Dame Hilda: Well, I don't want you to think I'm taking her side against you, dear, but that was only last night. Dr. Hinge: Yes, well this time I'm starting as I mean to go on. Now, what did you want me for? Dame Hilda: Evadne, did you hear the phone ring just now? Dr. Hinge: Yes, why? Dame Hilda: It’s happened again. Dr. Hinge: What’s happened again? Dame Hilda: The same thing that happened before. The phone rang, I answered it, there was nobody there. That's the third time this morning. Dr. Hinge: It was probably some idiot who keeps dialling the wrong number, that's all. Dame Hilda: Evadne, if it was an idiot dialling the wrong number, when I picked up the phone, I'd find an idiot on the other end of the line, wouldn't I? Well, I didn't. I found nobody three times. And anyway, if it was a wrong number, they'd say something, they'd say, sorry, wrong number. Dr. Hinge: Not necessarily, not these days, you know how rude people are. They probably realised as soon as they heard your voice they'd got the wrong number and just put the phone down. Dame Hilda: Well, they certainly didn't do that, because if they had, I'd have heard the dialling tone, wouldn't I? And anyway, I didn't say anything, I just stood there listening. Dr. Hinge: It sounds as if there was an idiot on both ends of the line. Dame Hilda: Oh, I said something the first couple of times, I picked up the phone and it went peep peep peep, you know, and when the peeping stopped, I said hello, and I gave our number and no one answered, so I said, who's there and still nobody answered, so I said well, I certainly haven't got time to stand here all day talking to you and I put the phone down. Dr. Hinge: Well, no wonder they didn't say anything. They obviously couldn't get a word in edge wise. Dame Hilda: I didn't rattle it off like that, I left pauses, long, dramatic pauses. I was a Thespian, you know. Dr. Hinge: But this time you didn't say anything at all. Dame Hilda: No, I didn't. I'm not going to encourage them. Dr. Hinge: Hilda, you're not going to stop people dialling wrong numbers simply by refusing to speak to them when they get through. Dame Hilda: Those calls were not wrong numbers, Evadne. Believe me, they were funny phone calls. Dr. Hinge: What do you mean, funny? Dame Hilda: You know, dear, funny, funny phone calls, men make them to women. Dr. Hinge: But if they didn't say anything, how do you know it was a man? Dame Hilda: Well, if it wasn't, it would be even funnier wouldn't it? Dr. Hinge: You're quite certain they said nothing at all. Dame Hilda: Positive, not a word. Dr. Hinge: Could you hear, heavy breathing or anything? Dame Hilda: No, not a sound. Dr. Hinge: Then they certainly weren't funny phone calls. Dame Hilda: Well, they certainly weren't normal ones. Dr. Hinge: Hilda, If they'd been funny phone calls, whoever was making them would have said something, or you'd have heard heavy breathing. You certainly would have heard something. Dame Hilda: Perhaps I'm getting even funnier phone calls than most. Dr. Hinge: Well, it wouldn't surprise me. Though quite frankly, it's difficult to imagine what pleasure a caller might be getting from paying 10p a time just to hear you recite the telephone number. And as you have now decided to deny him even that dubious pleasure, that should be the end of it. No, you mark my words its a series of wrong numbers, or possibly there's something wrong with the phone. {Phone rings!}
Dr. Hinge: At least the bells working, and I'm answering it this time. Dame Hilda: That should see them off. Dr. Hinge: Hello? Hello? Hello? Is there anybody there? Hello? No, nothing. It's quite obvious there's something wrong with it. Dame Hilda: Did you get the peeping sound? Dr. Hinge: Yes, I did. Dame Hilda: And did it suddenly stop? Dr. Hinge: Yes. Dame Hilda: Then there's somebody there, isn't there? In a phone box. I tell you, Evadne, it's funny phone calls. And now you're getting them as well. Dr. Hinge: You do talk such nonsense? Maureen: Cooee girls, mothers down. You can put the coffee on, Maud. Dr. Hinge: Maud’s out shopping mother, and we've had our coffee, but if you feel like a walk to the cafe, there's a walking stick on the hallstand. Dame Hilda: That's right, Evadne, make her feel really welcome. Maureen: Oh, so you're in here, are you, girls? And what time do you have your elevenses nowadays then? Dame Hilda: Well, it's usually at 11, isn't it, Evadne? Dr. Hinge: Usually, but it was more convenient today to have at half past 10. Maureen: And I suppose it was even more convenient not to let me know you were having them. Dame Hilda: Evadne, I thought you said your mother didn't drink coffee in the mornings any more. Maureen: Well, it seems that I don't, but it's not for want of trying. Now, if you've no objection to me using one of your cups and saucers, Mona, I'll pop you into the kitchen and make myself a cup. Dr. Hinge: You can't. Maureen: Don't tell me you've taken the plug off the percolator. Dr. Hinge: No, we've no coffee, not until Maud gets back. Dame Hilda: Would you like a cup of tea, dear? What are you shaking your head for, Evadne? Maureen: Oh, forget it. I'll wait until lunch, assuming I'm to be offered some lunch. Dame Hilda: I tell you what, Maureen, why don't we have a little glass of sherry, and it's no good shaking your head, Evadne, because I saw you hiding a full bottle at the back of the side board, so fetch it out and pour us all a nice preprandial drink. Dr. Hinge: Very well. But I might point out, Hilda, that properly speaking, a preprandial drink, is one taken before dinner, not before lunch. Dame Hilda: Well, it is before dinner, isn't it? Maureen: Especially if we’re getting no lunch. Dame Hilda: Perhaps we're getting no dinner either. Dr. Hinge: You know, you two are the only people I know who get silly before you even touch a drop. Dame Hilda: It's just as well we do, seeing how long it takes to get a drop. Dr. Hinge: There you are. Dame Hilda: Thank you, dear. So graciously served. Well, isn't this nice, all together again? Incidentally, Maureen, have you ever had funny phone calls? Dr. Hinge: Oh, not again. Maureen: Well, I've had Mona call me occasionally. Usually the day after my birthday to apologise for having forgotten it. Mind, the only funny thing about her calls is that she always reverses the charges. Dr. Hinge: Perhaps if you didn't live in Mexico, I wouldn't have to. Maureen: Perhaps if you made a note of my birthday, you could send me a card which would be cheaper for me and less embarrassing for you. Dame Hilda: But have you ever had proper funny phone calls? Maureen: Is there any such thing? Dame Hilda: Well, you know, when men ring you up and don't say anything. Maureen: No, I can't say I've had that. Dame Hilda: Mind, Evadne, seems to think they should say something. Maureen: And she'd know, of course. Dr. Hinge: Mother, the fact is quite simply there appears to be something wrong with the telephone. There is someone in a call box somewhere trying to get through, but obviously there's a fault. Now, whether it's our end or their end we don't know. Maureen: Well, you can very soon find out if it's yours, can't you? All you do is to give someone a ring and ask them to ring you back. Dame Hilda: I'll tell you what. I'll ring Naomi Mellinger. She's quite sensible. Maureen: You know, Mona, I really don't know what you'd do without your old mother to help and advise you. Dr. Hinge: Well, whatever I'd do, I'd have half a bottle more of sherry to do it with, wouldn't I? Do help yourself. Maureen: Why, thank you. Dame Hilda: Shh. Naomi's answering. Naomi, it's Hilda Bracket. Now, I'm going to put the phone down….. No, dear, you haven't offended me. I just want to know if my phone's working…. Yes, I know I'm speaking to you, Naomi. But I want to know if you can speak to me….Yes, I know you are, dear, but I mean, after I put my phone down…. Well, I'll pick it up again, won't I? when you ring…. that's right, yes. So if you just ring me back, thank you so much. Good heavens, that woman is an idiot. Maureen: She's going to call you straight back, is she? Dame Hilda: Yes, she is, dear. Dr. Hinge: Well, where is she then? Dame Hilda: She's at home. Dr. Hinge: I know that, I mean, why isn't she calling us back? Dame Hilda: Oh, give her a chance, Evadne, she's got to dial the number, hasn't she? Dr. Hinge: 295. How long is that going to take her? Dame Hilda: Well, I don't know, I've never watched her. Maureen: Well, it certainly shouldn't take her this long. She has got your number, has she? Dame Hilda: Yes, I'm sure she has. Well, pretty sure, anyway, she's got a phone book I suppose. Maureen: Just how reliable is this woman? Dr. Hinge: She's got a memory like a sieve, and she's very easily distracted, she's not reliable at all. Maureen: Oh, for heaven's sake. I tell you what, I'll walk down to the call box in the village and give you a ring from there. At least you know that I'm reliable. Dr. Hinge: What a good idea. Oh, and mother? Maureen: What? Dr. Hinge: There's a walking stick on the hall stand. Maureen: Well, you needn't think I'm taking that knobbly old thing with me. What do you want me to look like? Harry Lauder. Well, goodbye, girls. I'll see you later. Dame Hilda: Yes, thank you, Maureen. See you later, dear. Dr. Hinge: Have a nice walk, mother, don't hurry back. Oh, and by the way, you can buy another bottle of sherry while you're out. Dame Hilda: Evadne, you really are too bad. If I'd been your mother I’d have drowned you long ago. Now, what should we do while we're waiting? Oh, I know, let's sing a song. Dr. Hinge: Very well. What do you want to sing? Dame Hilda: Oh, just take whatever's on top of the piano stool, dear. What have you got there? Dr. Hinge: Oh, some song called Whoop-de-oo-dle-doo, from the Cabaret girl. Dame Hilda: Oh, George Grossmith. Oh, lovely. Now, it's very nice if it's played properly, see what you can do with it.
If you’ve the blues and you wish you were dead. If you’ve a tear that you’re starting to shed, dry it, dry it. I have a simple infallible rule. And I am sure it will cure you if you’ll try it, try it. If you’ll just warble, ‘Whoop-de-oo-dle-doo’ Life will at once seem bright and fair to you. Every time your in the soup. Put the accent on the whoop. If you’ll follow my tip you’ll find troubles will vanish away. Every cloud will be silver lined, start and do it today. One, two, three, fill up your lungs and shout it. Whoop-de-oo-dle-doo, Whoop-de-oo-dle-doo. You’ll soon see life is a blank without it. Whoop-de-oo-dle-doo, Whoop-de-oo-dle-doo. Sing it down the garden path. Try it over in the bath. Let it rip, for there’s a zip about it. One, two, three, pull up your socks and shout it. Whoop-de-oo-dle-doo, Whoop-de-oo-dle-doo, Whoop-de-oo-dle-doo!
Dame Hilda: Well, that was a bit shameless, wasn't it? Dr. Hinge: Especially the way you sang it. Dame Hilda: Ah, that's what's called throwing everything into it. It's what made me a star. I never held anything back. Dr. Hinge: More’s the pity. Dame Hilda: Ah, that’s probably Maud. Maud! Is that you, dear? Maud: Yes, it's me, Dame ‘ilda. I'm back. I ‘ear you’ve trouble with your phone, Dame ‘ilda? Dame Hilda: Ah, so you bumped into the Doctor's mother while you were out, did you? Maud: Met ‘er in the lane I did. She’d ‘ave cut me dead ‘ad I not accidentally shoved me shopping trolley between her legs, that slowed ‘er down a bit. Dr. Hinge: You didn't hurt her, I hope Maud? Maud: Why no, Doctor. Mind, I'd willingly ‘ave gone to that phone box and rung you meself. Because you know, I practically lived in that phone box at one time when I were a girl. Dr. Hinge: Why? Wouldn't they let you in at home? Maud: Of course they would Doctor. But we could ‘ave more fun in the phone box. Do you know, there were one Saturday night we got 15 of us kids in that phone box. It was the night they ‘ad the fire up the big ‘ouse. Dr. Hinge: The fire? I didn't know they'd ever had a fire up the big house, did you, Hilda? Dame Hilda: Well, only that one bar electric in the lounge. Maud: Oh, well they didn't ‘ave a fire. They only thought they ‘ad one. cos we phoned ‘em and told them they ‘ad. We was always telling people they ‘ad fires, but them at the big ‘ouse was daft enough to believe us. Went and called the brigade out they did, and guess who got blamed, us kids? We was told that if we was ever seen again near that phone box on the green, we'd not be allowed to take the pig out, acorning come micklemas. Dame Hilda: And that was the end of the simple carefree days of childhood, was it Maud? Dr. Hinge: No, ‘tweren’t. We used the phone box in the parva after that. We've had 17 of us in that one afore now. {Phone rings!} Dr. Hinge: At last. I expect that's mother. I'll get it. Hello? Hello, Hello, mother? Hello. No, nothing at all, just the same as before. What did I tell you, Hilda? there is something wrong with that phone, mother simply can't get through. Maureen: It's all right, girls. It's only mother back. Dame Hilda: I say she's getting around, isn't she? Half a mile to that phone box, Evadne, so either that wasn't her on the phone or that isn't her in the hall. Or she's become an extremely gifted and powerful ventriloquist. Maud: Perhaps she got lift back, Dame ‘ilda. Dame Hilda: What on, dear a magic carpet? Dr. Hinge: A broomstick would be more likely. Maureen: I'm so sorry you’ve been standing around so long waiting for me to call, girls. But when I got to the call box, there was some wretched man in it. As far as I know, he's still there. So, I decided I'd walk up to the box in the parva, and as I had to pass the door, I thought I might as well drop in and let you know what it was doing. Dame Hilda: You're saying there was a man in the box, dear? What sort of man? Maureen: A very garrulous one, and a very rude one. You should have seen the gesture he made when I hammered on the door. Dame Hilda: He didn't have a little ginger moustache and piggy pink eyes, did he? Maureen: Well, he had a moustache, I do know that, Hilda, but I don't recall the piggy pink eyes. Mind, he only briefly turned his face my way just long enough to stick his tongue out at me. Dame Hilda: You know who that is, Evadne. It's that funny man who's moved into that cottage overlooking the quarry. The one I told you about, who suddenly popped his head over his hedge and stuck his tongue out at me. Dr. Hinge: Yes, I'd rather gathered that was because you were being nosy and trying to peer into his front window, Hilda. Dame Hilda: Well, I didn't know he was there, did I? There was certainly no need to be quite so rude. And what was he doing behind his hedge? Maud: My Arthur reckons that man's a snurge. Not only that, ‘e reckons that ‘e stole all ‘is pea sticks off the allotments an’all. Maureen: Maud, will you kindly stop butting in with your silly stories! Why don't you go to the kitchen and get on with something, preferably lunch? Maud: Now, just a minute, madam. You're a visitor in this ‘ouse, and I'll thank you to behave like one. Maureen: And you're a servant, and I'll thank you to know your place. Dr. Hinge: Hilda, do you happen to know where my earplugs are? Dame Hilda: Now, don't you start Evadne. Maureen, Maud, we really must try to be a bit nicer to each other. After all, we've all got to live together, haven't we? Maud: No, we ‘aven't. She could go ‘ome. Maureen: If anyone's to go home, it should be you. You've not so far to go. Maud: Well, at least I'm useful when I'm ‘ere. Maureen: And that's a matter of opinion. Dr. Hinge: Well, I must say, mother, you and Maud really do amaze me. There is poor Hilda, worried sick and deeply upset by these funny phone calls she's been receiving and there you two stand. There you stand, squabbling like fish wives on a quay and doing nothing whatever to help. I don't understand you. I really do not! Dame Hilda: Evadne are you…. are you all right, dear? Dr. Hinge: I'm fine. Why do I ask? Dame Hilda: Well, because the last time you stood up for me, you were sickening for Hong Kong flu. Maureen: I'm sorry, Hilda. I had no idea that these calls were upsetting you so. {Phone rings!} Dame Hilda: Oh, here we go again. Dr. Hinge: Now, calm down, everyone. calm down. I'll get it. Hello? Hello? Who's that? Oh…. I know there's someone there, and who ever you are will you please stop pestering us, we’re sick and tired of your silly pranks…. well, you can stop that for start! Dame Hilda: What was it, Evadne? Dr. Hinge: That... was heavy breathing. Dame Hilda: Yes. There you are. There you are, see what did I tell you? We are getting funny phone calls. Well, I am, but you keep taking them for me. Dr. Hinge: And that was definitely from one of the call boxes in the village. I could hear the church clock chiming in the background. That’s the first time it has been right this year. Maureen: You’re quite the little Sherlock Holmes, aren't you, Mona? Dame Hilda: Well, she knew the Baskervilles before they had the hounds. Maud: I had an uncle who was a detective, ‘e used to let me hold ‘is blood ‘ound while ‘e were in the pub. Dr. Hinge: I never expected to hear myself say this, Maud, but I think you can be a help to us, and you too, mother. Dame Hilda: Are you sure you feel all right, Evadne? You sound to me as if you might be running a bit of a temperature. Dr. Hinge: Hilda, we need to mount a watch on these two call boxes, so I suggest that mother takes one and Maud the other. Maureen: I'm game! Maud: And me! Dr. Hinge: Good. Now, what you have to do is take a pencil and paper with you, and you make a note of everyone who uses those boxes and the precise times at which calls are made, got that? Then at the end of the day, you see, we will compare your list of calls made, with our list of calls received, and that way we should be able at least to point a finger. Maureen: Right then, I'm off. I'll take the box on the green, it's bound to turn out to be the man with the piggy pink eyes, and when it does, I'll be only too happy to return his rude gesture with knobs on. Come along, Maud! We've no time for shillie-shallying! Maud: I'm coming, I'm just waiting for you. I say, Dame ‘ilda, we do see life, don't we? Dame Hilda: We certainly do, Maud, well bye-bye, dear, we'll see you later. You know, Evadne, those two really do have hearts of gold. It's a shame they give one such a headache. Dr. Hinge: Just look at them, Hilda, scuttling off down the drive. What a pair. Miss. Marple and the Pink Panther. {Phone rings!} Dame Hilda: Oh, good heavens, Evadne, and they haven't got to the phone boxes yet. Well, I wonder if I can keep them on the line for a while. Perhaps my Tokyo Rose routine still works. Hello, this is Hilda Bracket, I've been expecting you to call and I think I know who you are... Oh, are you?… Was it?.. Is it?... did you?... What do you mean playing the goat?… Thank you... Goodbye. That was the operator, Evadne. Dr. Hinge: Oh, was it? Dame Hilda: Apparently there's been a fault on our line. Several people have reported it. And it's now been put right. She says she phoned before. Dr. Hinge: Did she? Dame Hilda: Just now. Dr. Hinge: Oh, yes, yes, yes, she did. Dame Hilda: Well, if that was your idea of a joke, Evadne, I must say it was in pretty poor taste. Now, I suppose I'm going to have to get the car out and run round to the telephone boxes. Dr. Hinge: What for? Dame Hilda: Well, to tell Maud and Maureen that the panic's over and to bring them back of course. Dr. Hinge: Do you really think you should? Dame Hilda: Evadne, have you played a dirty trick? Dr. Hinge: I don't know about dirty, Hilda, just a little underhanded, perhaps. But I thought that while they were out enjoying themselves sleuthing, we might make ourselves a nice light lunch and then have a quiet afternoon out in the garden. Dame Hilda: I must say that does sound rather attractive, Evadne. Dr. Hinge: Well, come on then. Dame Hilda: Just a minute, dear. There's one thing I'd better do first. Dr. Hinge: What’s that? Dame Hilda: Take the phone off the hook.
Transcribed by Lorraine Taylor |
