Nunton at 70.
Dame Hilda: Just like, dear, Mr. Hardcastle in Oliver Goldsmith's clever little comedy, she stoops to conquer. I love everything that's old. Old friends, old times, old manners. Old books, old wine, even old Evadne. But what I'm especially fond of are my old diaries, not just because they're so witty and entertaining, which they are, but because they recall to mind so many good friends and good times. Well, I never write about them at times. Well, there's never any need. Not with Evadne around to constantly remind me. No, no, no, I don't normally look at my diaries when Evadne is about, because she always wants to know what's in them, and she nags and nags until I tell her. And then she says it wasn't worth knowing anyway. However, one morning a few weeks ago, I made the mistake of reading an old diary while we were both having our elevenses and of course it wasn't long before we were at loggerheads. {Drawing room.} Dame Hilda: Well, I don't care what you say, Evadne. In a hundred years' time, or so, this pathetic little scribble of mine, as you call the record of my life, may rank with the Greville memoirs, Sir Walter Scott's journal and the diary of Fanny Burney. Dr. Hinge: I hardly think so, there is one significant difference between their journals and yours. Dame Hilda: What's that? Dr. Hinge: Theirs aren't boring. Dame Hilda: Boring? Dr. Hinge: Well, empty, then. Dame Hilda: Empty? Dr. Hinge: Oh, Hilda, do stop repeating every word, I say. I just mean there's nothing in them. Dame Hilda: Nothing in them. Dr. Hinge: Hilda stop repeating. Your scratty little diaries tell us nothing of the great events of the time. It's all just tickle tackle about yourself. Dame Hilda: Well, Pepys’s diary is all just tickle tackle about himself, isn't it? Dr. Hinge: No, that's where you're wrong. Pepys wrote a complete picture of his age. For one thing, it contains a wealth of information about the Navy. Dame Hilda: Believe me, Evadne. My diaries are not lacking in information about the Navy. Dr. Hinge: No, but yours are only personal details about sailors. And then again, Pepys describes the great fire of London and the great plague. Dame Hilda: Well, they were before my time. I bet your diary’s full of them. Especially the plague. Oh, that would have appealed to you, yes. You look as if you've dressed for it. Dr. Hinge: There you are, you see, you take an occurrence of great historical importance and you bring it down to a matter of clothing. Dame Hilda: That's not true. Dr. Hinge: All right, then. All right. That diary you've got there. What year is it? Dame Hilda: 1953, I've told you. Dr. Hinge: Well, have a look at your entry for June the 2nd. Dame Hilda: June the 2nd. Dr. Hinge: Yes, what happened on that day? Dame Hilda: Let me see now. erm, oh, yes, we went to London. I was wearing... it doesn’t matter what I was wearing. We bought some sandwiches on the train. Dr. Hinge: What sort of sandwiches? Dame Hilda: I don't know. Dr. Hinge: How much were they? Dame Hilda: It doesn't say. Dr. Hinge: Well, there you are, you see. I mean, two interesting little bits of social detail, totally omitted. And when we got to London, where did we go? Dame Hilda: To Westminster. Dr. Hinge: That's more promising. Dame Hilda: And then to the Red Lion in Parliament Street. Dr. Hinge: Sorry, I spoke. Dame Hilda: We were taken there by Hugo and Gregory. Dr. Hinge: And who were Hugo and Gregory? Dame Hilda: I have the foggiest idea. Dr. Hinge: And doesn't that precious diary of yours tell you who they were? Dame Hilda: No, it does not. All it says here is, I shall never forget them. Anyway, they took us to the Red Lion for champagne and whatnot. Dr. Hinge: And what about the Queen? Dame Hilda: What Queen? Dr. Hinge: Our Queen, Hilda. Queen Elizabeth II, you must know the one. What do you say about her? Dame Hilda: I don't say anything about her, dear. She wasn't in the Red Lion! Dr. Hinge: Oh, really? Now, I wonder what she was doing that day. Dame Hilda: Well, if you want to find that out, you'll have to look at her diary, not mine. Dr. Hinge: Hilda, June the second 1953 was Coronation Day and you haven't even mentioned it. Dame Hilda: Well, there's no need to get so het up about it. Someone's bound to have made a note of it somewhere. Dr. Hinge: I mean, you haven't even recorded your impressions of it, have you? Dame Hilda: Well, how could I, The Coronation took place in Westminster Abbey and things. I was down the street in the Red Lion, and so were you. And you were squiffy. Dr. Hinge: How do you know that? Dame Hilda: Because it says so here. Dr. Hinge: Where? Dame Hilda: Here, It says, even Evadne seem to be enjoying herself. Dr. Hinge: It doesn't say I was squiffy. Dame Hilda: No, but if you gave the impression you were enjoying yourself, you must have been. Dr. Hinge: I’d burn those diaries of yours if I were you. Oh, don't you mind posterity thinking you were a complete blithering idiot? There's nothing in them of the slightest interest or use to anyone. Dame Hilda: Well, that's just where you're wrong, clever clogs. What about this little note here? Scribbled at the top of this page. Nunton 4 0. Forty. Dr. Hinge: What about it? Dame Hilda: You remember Nunton Oddstock, don't you? He was a baritone with the Rosa Charles Opera Company all those years. Dear Nunton, six foot two. Fourteen stone and a beautiful dancer. Oh, he was always so light on my feet. Dr. Hinge: I remember Nunton Oddstock perfectly, Hilda, but as usual I fail to see the significance of your diary entry relating to him. Dame Hilda: Obviously, that was his 40th birthday, and that was in 1953, which means that next Thursday he'll be 70. Now, to you, Evadne, that may seem no age at all. Most people would think it worthy of a special celebration, and I suggest that we celebrate it, I bet no one else will remember. We'll give him a surprise party! Dr. Hinge: He could be dead. Dame Hilda: That's right, look on the bright side. Dr. Hinge: And I mean, how would we find him? It must be all 30 years or more since we last saw Nunton. Dame Hilda: Ah, but I still have an address book, I'm sure. Now, now, let me see. Yes, now it was somewhere near Billericay. I do remember that. He shared a house with old Boothby Pagnal, the cellist in the orchestra, remember him. Dr. Hinge: Well, of course I do. Dame Hilda: Ah, here we are. Yes, yes, yes it is. Well, that's it then. We'll drive down on Thursday, and we'll take all sorts of gifts and goodies. And we'll give Nunton a birthday to remember. Ah, that sounds like Maud. I say Evadne, Why don't we ask Maud to come to Nunton’s with us? Dr. Hinge: Well, to give but three reasons, because she'll be tiresome going, tiresome there, and tiresome coming back. Dame Hilda: Oh, don’t be so tiresome yourself, Evadne. Nunton was always rather fond of Maud. Maud: Good morning, Dame ‘ilda, Doctor! Dr. Hinge: Good morning, Maud. Dame Hilda: Hello, Maud. Now, you'll remember Nunton Oddstock from the old Rosa Charles' days, don't you? Maud: I should say I do, Dame ilda. ‘e was always badgerin' me. Dr. Hinge: I bet you used to enjoy that. Maud: Whatever give you that idea. Always wanting me to wash ‘is bits and bobs, ‘e were. Dame Hilda: He was a very fastidious man, Maud. He’d like them to be clean. Anyway, it's his 70th birthday next week, and we thought we'd all pop over and give him a little surprise party. Maud: Oooooh! Dr. Hinge: Is that curious sound you're emitting meant to mean something Maud? Or are you merely perfecting your impersonation of a tugboat? Maud: I give my Arthur a surprise party one time, Dame ‘ilda. Dame Hilda: Did he enjoy it, dear? Maud: I don't know. ‘e's always refused to speak of it since. Didn't speak at all for three ‘ole months. Dame Hilda: Why ever not, dear? Maud: On account of ‘is ‘aving broken ‘is jaw when ‘is foot went in the trifle. Dr. Hinge: It was a wild party, was it, Maud? Maud: No, twern’t no such thing, Doctor. The only one as were wild was Arthur. Dame Hilda: Well, what on earth happened, dear? Maud: Well, it were my Arthur's birthday, do you see, Dame ‘ilda, and I decided to give ‘im a surprise. So I ‘ides in a cupboard in the kitchen, Dame Hilda: And was everybody else hiding? Maud: Nobody else, there Dame ‘ilda. Only me, crouching in a cupboard in the dresser, do you see? And in me ‘and the monkey wrench I bought ‘im as a surprise. Dr. Hinge: I see, not a very big party then, Maud. Maud: It don't ‘ave to be a big one to be a surprise, Doctor. Dr. Hinge: No, I suppose not. Especially if you're there with a monkey wrench in your hands. Maud: I’d a special cake baking in the oven for ‘im, and I'd made ‘im a special jelly in the shape of a washing-up bowl. Dame Hilda: This may sound a silly question, Maud, dear. But why was it in the shape of a washing up bowl? Maud: ‘cause, I'd made me trifle in the jelly bowl, Dame ‘ilda, and the only other bowl we ‘ad were being used, er well, elsewhere! Dame Hilda: Oh, I see, well perhaps we’d better not go into that, dear. Maud: So I were crouched there and all ready to shout ‘appy birthday, when I ‘ears my Arthur and it's then as I realised it weren't going to work. Dr. Hinge: Why ever not, Maud? Maud: I was stuck. I'd been in me cupboard so long, you see, as me legs ‘ad gone to sleep, and I couldn’t open the door. Dr. Hinge: Ah, shame. Maud: ‘elp! ‘elp! I shouts! Who's that shouts ‘e? Me you great daft lummock, shouts I. Who else would be ‘iding in your dresser. Dame Hilda: Men, they can be so obtuse, can’t they, dear? Maud: Well, ‘e opens the door and ‘e grabs me arm and ‘e tugs, and the ‘ole darn dresser come away from the wall, and ‘alf the wall comes with it, and my Arthur, leaping back before it falls over on’ is head, steps right in the trifle where I'd put it to be safe. Dr. Hinge: Didn't he see it, Maud? Dame Hilda: Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, Evadne. Dr. Hinge: It sounded as though it was, as well. Maud: Well, trifle dont ‘alf, make your foot slippy. ‘e were all over the place, cannoning ‘ere, cannoning there, and just as I stepped out the wreck of me cupboard, ‘e cannons into me. And that's what made me drop the monkey wrench on ‘is foot. Up comes that foot and away slips t’other, and off ‘e shoots again like a cork out of a popgun. Bang! ‘ead first into the cooker. Dame Hilda: And that's how he got his jaw broken, was it, Maud? Maud: Ar, and that's when I first sees the smoke coming from the oven. Well, I quite forgot ‘is cake, ‘adn't I? Not as it mattered with ‘is jaw broke. Still, look on the bright side, I says to Arthur as ‘e were waiting for the ambulance to come. At least you did no ‘arm to the jelly. And by the looks of things, that's all you'll be eating for a while. You clumsy old nullerk! Dr. Hinge: Well, Hilda, do you still want her to come with us to Nuntons next week? Maud: Oh, I'd love to come Dame ‘ilda. Wild ‘orses wouldn't keep me away. Dr. Hinge: Now there's a tempting thought. Dame Hilda: Well, over the next few days, there was much argument over the sort of present we should take to Nunton. I was all for taking him some small antique. But Evadne said we should take him sensible things, a sack of coal, a five-gallon drum of paraffin, a net of sprouts. In the end, we compromised. She took him socks, mittens, thermal underwear, and a muffler. I took him a Berlin wool smoking cap and an Ashanti travelling hammock. Maud quite inexplicably took him a watering can. Thus laden, we drove on the Thursday to Billericay. And come mid afternoon, found ourselves at Nunton Oddstocks front door. {Nuntons house.} Dame Hilda: Ah, look, Evadne, There he is in the front room window. I can just see him through that little gap in the net curtains. He's on the phone. Dr. Hinge: I can see that, Hilda. Maud: I say ‘e does look a bit gray and tired, don’t ‘e, Dame ‘ilda Dame Hilda: Hasn't even shaved by the look of it, poor old chap. Dr. Hinge: Who do you think he's on the phone to then, Hilda? The Samaritans? Nunton: Oh, yes, darling. Very much indeed. It was really one of the nicest birthdays I've ever had. Oh, it must have been four o'clock this morning before I finally hit the hay. Know what I had for breakfast? one stuffed olive. I found it in the light bowl. Yes, when I was fishing the ping pong balls out. Fun, wasn't it? No, mercifully, Boothbys gone off to Cambridge for the day. So I'm just going to potter about until I feel like living again. I'll have to go, darling. There's some idiot hammering at the front door. See you very soon. Bye for now. All right, all right, I'm coming. Dame Hilda: You just watch, Evadne. This is going to be such a surprise for him. Maud: I think I can near him come in, Dame ‘ilda. Dr. Hinge: I can't wait to see his face light up, dear. Nunton: Yes? Dame Hilda: Well, remember us. Nunton: Yes, you're from the donkey sanctuary. I've got your deed of covenant already for you. Dame Hilda: No, no, no, no, Nunton. It's Hilda. Nunton: Hilda. Hilda Bracket! Goodness gracious me, and Evadne, and Maud. But my darlings it’s been an absolute age. What in heaven's name brings you all here. Dame Hilda: One, two, three.
Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear, Nunton. Happy birthday to you.
Nunton: Oh, you remembered. Dame Hilda: Well, of course, dear. I never forget an important anniversary. Well, you're only 70 once aren’t you? Are you on your own? Nunton: I am today, Hilda. Yes. Dame Hilda: I felt everyone would have forgotten. People have such short memories, don't they? Maud: Do you know my father only remembered my mother's birthday twice in ‘is ‘ole life. And both times ‘e forgot to buy ‘er a present. Nunton: Well, do come inside. Dame Hilda: Oh, lovely. Thank you, Nunton. Lovely dear. Nice carpet, sweet isn’t it? Yes. Nunton: Let me close the door. Now, would you mind very much if I asked you to remain in the hall for a moment or two? There's just a few things I must tidy up in the sitting room. I wasn't expecting anyone. Not today. I'll not be a jiffy. Dame Hilda: Poor old chap. He wasn't expecting anyone. I wonder where Boothby is? Dr. Hinge: He's probably dead. Dame Hilda: Why do you always think people are dead, Evadne? It's so morbid. Still, we'd better not mention it just in case he is. Evadne, dear, doesn't that look like cooked rice trailing up the staircase, Dr. Hinge: Yes, it does, dear. Rice and sweet corn. Maud: Perhaps he keeps chickens, Dame ‘ilda. Dame Hilda: Oh, no, dear. Nunton would never keep chickens. He considered them such dowdy birds. Evadne, what can he be doing in that room? Maud: If he's anything like my Arthur, he'll be looking for his teeth. Dame Hilda: Shh, he's coming. Nunton: Now, come along in. Sit down, make yourself at home. Oh, it is most kind of you all. Most kind. Do you know what I think of when I see the three of you sitting opposite me on that settee like that? Dame Hilda: What, dear? Nunton: Winter in the potteries. Dame Hilda: I told you to wear something brighter, Evadne. Nunton: Slush, ankle deep in the high street in Stoke upon Trent. Handley in the snow. And those theatrical digs behind the goods yard, remember, Mrs. Bryce. Dr. Hinge: Oh, lord, yes, cockroach cottage. Nunton: That's what we called it. It was an entomologist's dream. I can see us now, one Sunday. You three sitting in a row like that and me opposite, toasting cheese over a candle in our overcoats. We had to have the windows wide open so Mrs. Bryce wouldn't smell anything. Well, nothing untoward like food. Dame Hilda: That's right. She wouldn't allow cooking in the rooms, would she, Mrs. Bryce? Maud: She'd not allow cooking in the kitchen, neither. Dr. Hinge: That’s true. Her poor husband lived on cold meat and pickles and she wondered why he was sharp. Nunton: Oh, isn't this wonderful? old times, eh. Isn't it such a shame that Boothby’s not here? He would have adored this, you know. Maud: I always liked Mr. Pagnell. ‘e was always the perfect gentleman where I were concerned, unlike some I've knowed. I always used to say to ‘im, Mr. Pagnell, I'd say, you keep your mind as clean and tidy as I try to keep Mr. Oddstock's tights. Nunton: I was always appreciative of the way you handled my tights, Maud. Dame Hilda: Has, um, has Boothby been gone very long then, Nunton? Nunton: Since about nine o'clock this morning. Dame Hilda: Oh, good heavens. Well, where is he then upstairs? Nunton: Cambridge. Dr. Hinge: Cambridge. Don't you, um, have anywhere locally? Nunton: He always liked Cambridge. Dame Hilda: Oh, well, of course, if that's where he wanted to be, and they've taken him already, have they? Nunton: No one took him. I put him on a bus. Dame Hilda: On the bus? Maud: Poor soul! Nunton: It's so much cheaper than hiring a car. Dame Hilda: Yes, I mean, I can understand that, but I mean, you wouldn't think that the conductor would want that sort of thing on board, would you? I mean, not on a bus. Nunton: It's no problem. Just stick it under the stairs. Boothby's got it all down to a fine art now. He gives regular cello recitals in Cambridge these days. Dame Hilda: Cello recitals? Oh, so he's still with you. Nunton: Yes, indeed, he's in fine fettle. Now, I'm going out to make us all a pot of tea, and I'll see if I can rustle up a biscuit or something. Won’t be a jiffy!. Dame Hilda: Oh, bless him. I say, Evadne, dear, while he's out. Have a look and see what that piano sounds like. A bit of music might make things seem a little more festive! Maud: I say, Dame ‘ilda. Dame Hilda: What, Maud, dear? Maud: There's a bottle under the settee. My foot's just touched it. Dame Hilda: What sort of bottle, Maud? Maud: I don't know. I just heard it clink. Should I have a look? Dame Hilda: Well, mind you don't get caught at it, dear. That might have been what he was doing while we were waiting in the hall. Maud: Ere! It's a champagne bottle. But it's empty. Dame Hilda: Well, that's a relief. Dr. Hinge: I say, Hilda, just listen to this. There's something very wrong with this piano. I’ll have a look inside. Dame Hilda: Oh, poor old Nunton. He probably can't afford to have it seen to, you know? Dr. Hinge: Good heavens! Dame Hilda: Is it bad? Dr. Hinge: Well, you could say so. Just look at what’s in here. Paper hats, paper plates. What's left of a bowl of cold risotto? Half a dozen false noses and squeakers, and a few ping pong balls, a lump of icing, and a shoe. Dame Hilda: Just like the inside of your handbag. Dr. Hinge: And just look at all these birthday cards. Dame Hilda: Birthday? Nunton: Oh, dear, oh, dear, those cards. So you have discovered my little secret, have you? I'm afraid it was yesterday. Dame Hilda: And where did you hold the party, dear, in the piano? Dr. Hinge: I told you your diary was useless, Hilda, It's useless for anything. It's even more useless than I thought it was. Dame Hilda: I can't think what that entry meant then. It was just written on top of the page, Nunton 40. On what I now know to be in the day after your 40th birthday. Nunton: Oh, I see. Well, I think I can help you there, Hilda. You may remember that at that party, you asked me to lend you 40 pounds. Dame Hilda: Oh, heavens. And the next day I made a note, Nunton 40, to remind me that I owed it, and then promptly forgot. Nunton: Yes, for 30 years. Dr. Hinge: Which just goes to prove what I said about your diaries was right, dear. Dame Hilda: And what was that, Evadne? Dr. Hinge: They ought to be burnt.
Transcribed by Lorraine Taylor |
