ACT I SCENE 7

 

[DENNIS enters]

 

DENNIS: Is he as you expected?
AMBROSE: Absolutely. These people really know their stuff. The studio’s make-up department couldn’t have done better. I think even Frank would be pleased with the splendid job they’ve done.

 

[They move downstage and presumably outside into the Garden of Remembrance as the lights fade on the Slumber Room]

DENNIS: Yes. So everything’s set.
AMBROSE: Have you arranged the seating in the church?
DENNIS: Not yet.
AMBROSE: Remember, Megalopolitan will want the first four rows and the Knife and Fork Club must be together. The united front.
DENNIS: It’s all on my list.
AMBROSE: And don’t forget your ode. Is it finished?
DENNIS: [producing a notebook but deciding not to show it] It needs more work.

AMBROSE: Well you'd better pull your finger out. It doesn’t have to be anything elaborate – which should be easy for you. Something simple. I’ll meet you here at two-thirty sharp. [He exits]

 

[DENNIS sits in an alcove and opens his notebook]

 

DENNIS:

They told me Francis Hinsley

They told me you were hung

With red protruding eyeballs

And black protruding tongue

I wept as I remembered

The times that you and I
Had laughed about Los Angeles

And now tis here you’ll lie
Here pickled in formaldehyde

And painted like a whore

As pink as shrimps in mayonnaise

Not lost nor gone before

[He rips out the page and screws it up. Taking out a pen, he starts to scribble. AIMÉE​ enters and sits in the adjacent alcove unaware of her neighbour. She takes out her lunch box and opens a packet of crisps]

 

DENNIS: Hello.
AIMÉE: Oh! Pardon me. I didn’t expect to find anyone here.

DENNIS: Have I taken your place?
AIMÉE: No, not at all. It’s usually so deserted that I’ve taken to coming here during my lunch break. I’ll go some place else and leave you in peace . . . [standing, she overturns her box] Oh! How stupid of me.
DENNIS: [helping her brush the dirt off her sandwiches] No, this is all my fault for startling you. I’ll go. I only came here to write a poem.
[Pause]
AIMÉE: A poem? Did you say a poem?
[Pause]
DENNIS: Yes – I’m a poet you see.
AIMÉE: Why, that’s wonderful. What have you written?
DENNIS: Oh – nothing you will have heard of. And anyway, the voice of inspiration is silent today I’m afraid.
AIMÉE: It must be wonderful to be a poet. I mean you write a poem and it’s printed – or even read on the radio – and millions of people get to hear it. Maybe they’ll still be reading it in hundreds of years time, who knows? I wish I could do it.
DENNIS: But you have a very poetic occupation here.
AIMÉE: Yes, I suppose I have really. But my work is usually burned within a few hours. At best it’s put in the mausoleum, and even then it deteriorates.
DENNIS: I wish you’d tell me about your work.
AIMÉE: But you’ve seen it.
DENNIS: I mean about yourself and your work. What made you do it? Were you interested in this sort of thing as a child?
AIMÉE: I’ve always been artistic. I took Art at college as my second subject when I was studying Beauticraft.
DENNIS: Beauticraft?

AIMÉE: You know – permanents, facials, wax – everything you get in a beauty parlour. We went in for history and theory too. I wrote my thesis on “Hairstyling in the Orient”. I even studied Chinese. I thought it would help, but it didn’t. But I got my diploma with special mention for Psychology and Art.

DENNIS: And all this time between psychology and art and Chinese, you had Whispering Glades in view?
AIMÉE: Not at all. Do you really want to hear?
DENNIS: If you’ve the time?

AIMÉE: Well, it all started with Mrs Komstock. She was one of my ladies when I worked at the Beverly Waldorf. She came every Saturday for a blue rinse and set. She always asked for me – no one else would do – but she never tipped more than a quarter. One day, Mr Jebb, the manager, came up to me and said: “I don’t know exactly how you feel about this, but Mrs Komstock has died and her son is very anxious to have you fix her hair just as it used to be.” Well, I didn’t know what to think. I’d never seen a dead person before and coming to Whispering Glades for the first time; I was really nervous. But when I saw her laid out in her wedding dress I was amazed. She looked transfigured. I hardly dared touch her at first but the cosmetician talked it through and then I was fine. She told me there was a vacancy for a new cosmetician. Well, I didn’t need to think it over. I went straight back to Mr Jebb and gave my notice.

DENNIS: And you don’t regret it?

AIMÉE: Not for a moment. And from the day Mr Joyboy arrived, the whole tone of the mortuary became elevated. Mr Joyboy’s kinda holy. Of course, my contribution is only a tiny part of it, but it’s a wonderful thing to know that you can bring joy into an aching heart.

DENNIS: You have a great regard for Mr Joyboy, I notice?
AIMÉE: He is a true artist, Mr Barlow. I can say no more. Only he made me realise the true importance of my work. I shall never forget one morning how Mr Joyboy said to one of my colleagues: “Mr Parks, I must ask you to remember you are not at The Happier Hunting Ground!” [Pause] It’s a dreadful place here where they bury animals.
DENNIS: Is that so?
AIMÉE: I was never there myself but I’ve heard about it. They try and do everything the same as us. It sounds kinda blasphemous.
DENNIS: [changing the subject] And what do you think about when you come here?

AIMÉE: Just Death and Art.
DENNIS: “Half in love with easeful death”.

AIMÉE: What was that you said?
DENNIS: I was quoting a poem.

“For many a time
I have been half in love with easeful death

Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme

To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain”

AIMÉE: Why, that’s beautiful. Were you writing that when I arrived?

DENNIS: You like it? It was written long before.
AIMÉE: It’s just what I’ve thought so often and haven’t been able to express. “To make it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain”.

 

[Thunder rumbles in the distance]

 

I’d better be getting back. Will you promise to send me the poem when you’ve finished it?
DENNIS: Where do you live?
AIMÉE: Send it here, to Whispering Glades. This is my true home. My name is Miss Thanatogenos . . . Aimée Thanatogenos.
DENNIS: Dennis Barlow.
AIMÉE: Thank you, Dennis. It’s been – nice.
DENNIS: Yes. Yes it has.
AIMÉE: Goodbye.

[She exits]
DENNIS: Au revoir.

 

[The Garden of Remembrance dissolves into Sir Francis’ grave plot in Poets Corner]

 

SONG: SOMEHOW

 

 

 

 

 

DENNIS: Bingo

 

SO WHAT IS THIS

A LITTLE FRIENDSHIP WITH THE PROMISE OF A KISS

OF COURSE SHE DOESN'T SHARE MY INTELLECT HOW COULD SHE SHE'S A

GREEK OF COURSE I DIDN'T GET A FIRST BUT THAT WAS OXFORD AND

I DIDN'T HAVE THE RIGHT CONNECTIONS

 

Bingo

 

WHAT OF HER FACE

A LITTLE MAD BUT SO ARE MOST OF ALL HER RACE

WE'LL PLAY AT  BIRDS AND BEES AND WHERE DO BABIES COME FROM

NO ONE TOLD ME SHUT YOUR EYES AND THINK OF GREECE AND APHRODITE

WHILE I MODIFY MY IMPERFECTIONS

 

Bingo

 

WHO IS THIS GIRL
HOW DO I GET TO HER
WITHOUT SOMETHING OR OTHER TO SAY
WHO IS THIS GIRL
WHY BE SO SET ON HER

KNOWING SHE'S ALREADY GIVEN AWAY

SO WHO THEN

IS SHE

 

JOYBOY:

SOMEHOW SHE’S DIFFERENT

SOMEHOW SHE’S ONE OF A KIND

SOMEHOW THIS GIRL

THIS GIRL FROM THE ORCHID ROOM

I CAN’T GET HER OUT OF MY MIND

 

SOMEHOW IT’S CRAZY

HOW CAN IT EVER BE TRUE

PLEASE LET ME BE

YOUR FRIEND AND PROTECTOR

IF ONLY I KNEW WHAT TO DO

 

WHO IS THIS GIRL

HOW HAS SHE CAPTURED ME
WHAT MAGIC TRICK DOES SHE KEEP UP HER SLEEVE

WITH EVERY CURL
SHE HAS ENRAPTURED ME
SHOWN ME THE WEB SHE WAS CAREFUL TO WEAVE

SO WHY NOT CHOOSE ME

HELP ME AIMÉE

 

JOYBOY:
WHITE IN COMPLEXION

DENNIS:
BLACK AS A WIDOW

JOYBOY:
WHITE AS A FRESH FALL OF SNOW

DENNIS:
BLACK TO THE ROOTS OF HER HAIR

JOYBOY:
WHITE AS THE CLOUDS

DENNIS:
BLACK WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES

JOYBOY:
THE CLOUDS THAT I’M FLOATING ON

DENNIS:

AND REMOVE HER DRESS

JOYBOY:

BECAUSE YOU’RE A PLEASURE TO KNOW

DENNIS:
AND NO ONE TO WITNESS HER THERE

 

JOYBOY:
WHITE THAT’S SO PURE

DENNIS:
BLACK AS A SAPPHIRE

JOYBOY:
WHITE AS THE VIRGIN WITH CHILD

DENNIS:
BLACK AS A YEAR ON THE DOLE

JOYBOY:
WHITE YOU MUST STAY

DENNIS:
BLACK AS A SHEEP

JOYBOY:
A BEAUTY IN INNOCENCE

DENNIS:
THE MISFIT THE FOREIGNER

JOYBOY:
A FLOWER SO UNSPOILT AND MILD

DENNIS:
AND BLACK WHEN YOU SLEEP IN MY SOUL

 

DENNIS AND JOYBOY:

WHAT WOULD SHE SAY

HOW WOULD SHE ANSWER ME
IF I SHOULD ASK HER WILL YOU BE MY WIFE

WHAT WOULD SHE DO

IF I SHOULD SAY TO HER
STAY WITH ME PLEASE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE

 

JOYBOY:

HOW CAN YOU BLAME ME?

DENNIS:

CLAIM ME

DENNIS AND JOYBOY
AIMÉE

 

AIMÉE:

DEAR GURU BRAHMIN
SORRY BUT IT’S ME AGAIN

SOMEHOW THIS GIRL
THIS GIRL FROM THE ORCHID ROOM IS

 

[spoken] Thoroughly fed up with men

 

SOMEHOW IT’S CRAZY
SOMEHOW IT CANNOT BE TRUE

SOMEHOW THIS GIRL

THIS GIRL FROM THE ORCHID ROOM

THIS GIRL HAS FOUND SOMEBODY NEW

 

WHAT SHALL I DO
NOW I'VE A CHOICE TO MAKE
WHICH OF THE TWO WILL BE TRUE FOR MY SAKE

AND IF I KNEW
I'D KNOW WHICH ONE TO TAKE
MAYBE THE ONE TO TURN OUT IS A FAKE
SO WHO IS IT TO BE
PLEASE ANSWER SOON

 

[The stage is filled with black umbrellas as the funeral mourners shield themselves from the LA drizzle]

 

PRIEST: Dearly Beloved. We have entrusted our brother Francis to God’s merciful keeping, and we now commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life. Amen.

 

[SIR AMBROSE steps forward]

 

AMBROSE:
SHOULD YOU FORGET ME
FORGET FOR ONLY A WHILE
PLEASE DO NOT GRIEVE
HAVING REMEMBERED ME
BEST YOU FORGET AND SMILE

SHOULD YOU FORGET ME
FORGET THE THOUGHTS THAT I HAD

BETTER BY FAR
YOU SHOULD FORGET AND SMILE
THAN REMEMBER ME AND BE SAD

 

REMEMBER
WHEN I AM GONE AWAY
FAR FAR AWAY TO THAT PROMISED LAND

REMEMBER
WHEN NO MORE DAY BY DAY
I TURN TO GO AND YET IN TURNING STAY

REMEMBER ME
REMEMBER ME

 

AIMÉE:
SOMEHOW HE’S DIFFERENT

DENNIS:
BLACK AS A WIDOW

JOYBOY:
SOMEHOW SHE’S DIFFERENT

CHORUS:
SHOULD YOU FORGET ME

AIMÉE:
SOMEHOW NOT PART OF THE HERD

DENNIS:
BLACK TO THE ROOTS OF HER HAIR

JOYBOY:
SOMEHOW SHE’S ONE OF A KIND

CHORUS:
FORGET FOR ONLY A WHILE

AIMÉE:
SOMEHOW HE’S SWEET

DENNIS:
BLACK WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES

JOYBOY:
SOMEHOW THIS GIRL

CHORUS:
PLEASE DO NOT GRIEVE

AIMÉE:
YES SWEET AND POETICAL

DENNIS:
AND REMOVE HER DRESS

JOYBOY:
FROM THE ORCHID ROOM

CHORUS:
HAVING REMEMBERED ME

AIMÉE:

I’M HANGING ON HIS EVERY WORD

DENNIS:
AND NO ONE TO WITNESS HER THERE

JOYBOY:
I CAN’T GET HER OUT OF MY MIND

CHORUS:
BEST YOU FORGET AND SMILE

 

AIMÉE:
SOMEHOW HE STIRS ME

DENNIS:
BLACK AS A SAPPHIRE

JOYBOY:
WHITE IN COMPLEXION

CHORUS:
SHOULD YOU FORGET ME

AIMÉE:
PASSION I’VE NOT FELT TILL NOW

DENNIS:
BLACK AS A YEAR ON THE DOLE

JOYBOY:
WHITE AS A FRESH FALL OF SNOW

CHORUS:
FORGET THE THOUGHTS THAT I HAD

AIMÉE:
WHY SHOULD I WAIT

DENNIS:
BLACK AS A SHEEP

JOYBOY:
WHITE AS THE CLOUDS

CHORUS:
BETTER BY FAR

AIMÉE:

I’VE WAITED FOR FAR TOO LONG

DENNIS:
THE MISFIT THE FOREIGNER

JOYBOY:
THAT I’M FLOATING ON

CHORUS:
YOU SHOULD FORGET AND SMILE

AIMÉE:
WE MUST GET TOGETHER SOME HOW

DENNIS:
AND BLACK WHEN YOU SLEEP IN MY SOUL

JOYBOY:
BECAUSE YOU’RE A PLEASURE TO KNOW

CHORUS:
THAN REMEMBER ME AND BE SAD

 

COMPANY:
REMEMBER

WHEN I AM GONE AWAY

FAR FAR AWAY TO THAT PROMISED LAND

REMEMBER WHEN NO MORE DAY BY DAY

I TURN TO GO AND YET IN TURNING STAY

 

REMEMBER

PONDER ON WHAT I’VE DONE

NOT WHAT I HOPED WHAT I FEARED WHAT I PLANNED

REMEMBER

SPEAK OF ENJOYMENTS PAST

NOT OF THE SORROW YET TO COME

 

CHORUS:

A MAN FULL OF ZEST

A MAN AT HIS BEST

THEY LET HIM FALL
THEY LET HIM CRAWL
THEY LAID HIM TO REST
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

 

[AIMÉE exits. JOYBOY goes to follow but is tripped up by DENNIS. JOYBOY stumbles into the open grave as – the curtain falls]

 

END OF ACT ONE