Act Three |
“Yes…? Well, about time, too!” James Birch is in his office, barking into the telephone. “Yes, yes… Very well. Don’t be late.” He hangs up, then turns to his guest – Mark Hetheridge. “Marker,” explains the Chairman. “He’ll be here with Clayton’s answer at half past three.”
“He’s taken his time,” observes Hetheridge. “I hope Clayton’s not going to make trouble.”
“He’s in no position to,” replies Birch, “if your information’s correct.”
Hetheridge looks confident. “Oh, it’s correct, I’m afraid.”
* * *
Hugh and Jean are sitting around Marker’s desk. Marker is standing at the window. He’s borrowed a couple of extra chairs from downstairs. “I don’t think I can go through with this,” says Hugh.
“You don’t want to see her,” guesses Jean.
“I don’t want you two to meet,” explains Hugh. “That’s something I’ve always dreaded.” Jean gives him a baffled look, so he elaborates. “She hated you!”
“It’s mutual, believe me,” replies Jean, icily.
Marker hears footsteps coming up the stairs. “Well, it’s a bit late to call the whole thing off. From the sound of it, here she is.” He crosses to admit Ann, greeting her with false jollity. “Ah, Miss Maitland,” he says. “Cold better?”
She nods, coolly. “Yes, thank you.” She starts when she sees Hugh. He introduces his wife. Ann turns to Marker, angry and confused. “You told me the Chairman –”
“Yes, well,” replies Marker, “I thought if we were to have a little chat... Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” He invites Ann to sit down.
As she does so, she and Jean exchange glances. Then Ann laughs, a little shrilly. “Oh, dear,” she says to Hugh. “We tried so hard to avoid this kind of showdown, didn’t we, darling?”
Hugh looks uncomfortable. “Ann, please…”
“Oh, we’re not going to keep up that old pretence, are we?”
“What’re you trying to do?”
“They can’t take your life, Hugh. Own up. Be brave.”
“My husband hasn’t seen you in four years,” states Jean.
“You told her that?” says Ann to Hugh.
“Isn’t it the truth?” asks Jean.
Ann smiles insincerely at Hugh. “Whatever you say, sweetie.”
Marker speaks. “The receptionist at the Carlton Hotel admitted to me that someone bribed him to identify you from the photograph and to falsify the register.”
“Now what have you got to say?” demands Jean.
Ann appears unruffled. “Money talks, doesn’t it?”
“Whose?” asks Marker.
“Yours, of course,” claims Ann. “I’m devoted to Hugh. Why should I lie about him? He’s in a spot. If you want me to help, just ask. But really – don’t try to catch me out with far-fetched taradiddles about bribed hotel receptionists. It’s too silly.”
Jean addresses Marker. “There must be some way of proving whether that picture’s four years old,” she says. Marker can’t think of one. Hugh shakes his head, wretchedly. Jean can’t face him. Ann smiles, mischievously. Abruptly, Jean says, “Let me look at it.”
“No!” cry Hugh and Ann together, but Marker realises it could be the only hope. He hands her the photo. No one’s keen to look at her as she steels herself to look at it. She does so.
After a pause, she declares, “That’s not my husband.”
“Now I’ve heard everything!” scoffs Ann.
Marker ignores her. Instead, he asks Jean, “What makes you say that?”
Jean points to the picture. “It’s his head, all right, but –”
“Prove it!” shouts Ann.
Jean stares at her, fiercely. “I’ve been married to him for twelve years. I ought to know his body better than you.”
Ann looks hurt. Hugh makes a consoling gesture towards her, but she recoils. “Get away from me!” she snaps.
“Not very lover-like,” comments Marker.
“Do you expect me to be?” spits Ann.
“Why?” wonders Hugh.
Ann looks at him with real loathing. “You don’t even know.”
Jean guesses the truth. “Because he ditched you.”
“It was the way he did,” Ann tells her. “We’d been lovers for almost a year.” Her anger gives way to sadness. “At least, I loved him.” Jean makes a small, sympathetic move. Ann pulls away from her. “Don’t pity me!” she yells, her voice full of venom again. “We talked about you,” she taunts. “You should have heard.” Jean nods, understanding. This only makes Ann hate her even more. “Don’t you dare pity me! I thought we had something. The fact that he belonged to you, that we had to keep it a secret – even that seemed special in a way. And then, at the first breath of trouble –”
“Is that how it seemed?” asks Hugh.
“What a jellyfish you turned out to be!” sneers Ann. She turns to Jean. “We were going out that night. Half an hour before we were supposed to meet, I got a note.”
“I made him send it,” Jean admits.
Ann still blames Hugh. “A note!” she cries. “You didn’t even have the guts to come and say goodbye. And afterwards – having me moved when of all the times I’ve needed friends, familiar things –”
Hugh tries to explain. “I thought a clean break would be best –”
Ann cuts him off. “Best?! Easier, you mean. Easier for you. Never mind what happened to me.” Her ire turns to sadness once again. Jean looks on with sympathy. “I wanted to die,” continues Ann. Hugh looks appalled. Ann quickly clarifies. “No, I’m not being melodramatic. I don’t mean I wanted to kill myself. I just didn’t particularly want to go on living. Only somehow one does, doesn’t one? I did. And gradually, I made up my mind I’d get even with you when the opportunity came. I knew it would. And sure enough –”
Marker asks, “Who put you up to it?”
“Hetheridge.”
“Mark Hetheridge?” asks Hugh. “Did he tell you why?”
“He didn’t want to,” says Ann. “You know what a rat he is. But when he realised I wouldn’t do it for money… The Board wants to get rid of you.”
Hugh guesses the reason why. “Because of Parsons and Hammond?”
Ann nods. “That’s why the price is inflated. It’s going through a private company owned by Hetheridge.”
“With a few hundred thousand being filched for the boys on the way?”
“Precisely,” says Ann. For a moment, nothing more is said. Then Ann remarks, “Funny. I’d been looking forward to it so much. But when it came to the crunch… it doesn’t seem to matter that much. Not any more. Not to me.” She looks at Hugh. “Seeing you again… I really can’t believe that that’s what all the fuss was about.” She shrugs. “Sorry, but there it is.” Another pause, then, to everyone in the room, she says, “Well, you’ll have things to talk about, I expect. If you want a statement, you know where to find me.” Then she faces Jean. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” replies Jean.
“I meant, for both of us. All three, really.” Ann leaves.
For a moment, no one speaks. Then, practical as ever, Marker notes, “The Chairman’ll be expecting us.” The men get ready to go. Hugh offers his wife a lift home.
“I’d sooner stay here a while if I may,” she replies.
Marker nods. “If you fancy a cup of tea –”
Jean smiles, faintly. “I know where it is.” The men leave her alone in the office, with her thoughts.
* * *
In his own office, Birch addresses Hugh. “You realise, I hope, that I had not the faintest inkling –”
“I never thought you did, Jimmy,” smiles Hugh. In the background, Marker looks less positive.
Birch is still reeling, a mixture of anger and confusion. “Of all the diabolical… Look here, what’s to do?”
“I think this is where I take my leave,” decides Marker. “If you need corroboration –”
“That won’t be necessary,” says Hugh.
Birch objects. “Now, just a minute. You’ve every right to institute proceedings. Every right.”
“I thought we were trying to avoid a scandal,” Hugh points out.
“I don’t think the Company has any rights in the matter any longer.”
“Jean has.”
Birch accepts this. “Whatever you say, Hugh. Just what you say. I’ll insist on having their resignations, of course.”
“That’ll put Humpty Dumpty together again, won’t it?” says Marker, cynically. He moves towards the door.
Birch pipes up. “About your fee –”
“I’ll bill you as agreed,” replies Marker, matter-of-factly.
“But you’ve been to enormous trouble –”
“If you’d like to stick on a bit, I won’t refuse. If not…” Marker shrugs.
Hugh thanks him for all his help, adding, “I think you can count on us to do the right thing.”
“In the end,” mutters Marker, “if a few people do go to the wall on the way.” He exits.
Birch turns to Hugh. “Let’s tackle your former colleagues, shall we?” Always more confident when Hugh Clayton is around to support his decisions, Birch is now quite different from the railroaded old man seen at the last Board meeting. He’s in tough Chairman mode. Heads are about to roll. They step through into the boardroom. The other directors look up as Birch appears. “Brought someone to see you,” he announces.
They react with shock and fear as Hugh comes in. He nods, greeting them calmly. “Gentlemen.”
* * *
Hugh returns home to find the house in darkness. He turns on the light in the entrance hall and calls out his wife’s name. Receiving no reply, he walks through to the living area, where he reaches for another light switch. Suddenly, he hears Jean’s voice: “Don’t.”
Hugh makes out her figure among the shadows. “What are you doing sitting here in the dark?” he asks, humouring her.
“Just sitting,” she replies.
“Don’t you want to know what happened?”
“You’re going to tell me.”
Hugh grins. “If you’d seen their faces! They all resigned, of course. And guess what? The old man’s offered the MDship to me.”
Jean repeats the phrase in confusion. “The MDship?”
“Wake up, old girl,” smiles Hugh. “The Managing Directorship. Isn’t that pretty splendid?” Unfortunately, Jean doesn’t share her husband’s high spirits. She’s unable to forget about Ann Maitland. Hugh struggles to convince her. “It’s over. Over and done with.”
Jean shakes her head. While Ann’s actions have caused Hugh to lose all sympathy for his former lover, Jean’s views have shifted the other way. “No, Hugh,” she says. “Seeing that girl –”
Hugh flinches. “Don’t say it!”
“Oh, we’ll go on,” Jean assures him, without enthusiasm. “It’s the things one does to other people – without even knowing them.”
“It’s over!” repeats Hugh, more desperately now.
“That’s not over,” Jean insists. “That never is.” However, though her words and her mind reject him, her arms go out in answer to his plea. She holds him, comforting him, drawing no comfort except from her role as comforter.
“He’s taken his time,” observes Hetheridge. “I hope Clayton’s not going to make trouble.”
“He’s in no position to,” replies Birch, “if your information’s correct.”
Hetheridge looks confident. “Oh, it’s correct, I’m afraid.”
* * *
Hugh and Jean are sitting around Marker’s desk. Marker is standing at the window. He’s borrowed a couple of extra chairs from downstairs. “I don’t think I can go through with this,” says Hugh.
“You don’t want to see her,” guesses Jean.
“I don’t want you two to meet,” explains Hugh. “That’s something I’ve always dreaded.” Jean gives him a baffled look, so he elaborates. “She hated you!”
“It’s mutual, believe me,” replies Jean, icily.
Marker hears footsteps coming up the stairs. “Well, it’s a bit late to call the whole thing off. From the sound of it, here she is.” He crosses to admit Ann, greeting her with false jollity. “Ah, Miss Maitland,” he says. “Cold better?”
She nods, coolly. “Yes, thank you.” She starts when she sees Hugh. He introduces his wife. Ann turns to Marker, angry and confused. “You told me the Chairman –”
“Yes, well,” replies Marker, “I thought if we were to have a little chat... Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” He invites Ann to sit down.
As she does so, she and Jean exchange glances. Then Ann laughs, a little shrilly. “Oh, dear,” she says to Hugh. “We tried so hard to avoid this kind of showdown, didn’t we, darling?”
Hugh looks uncomfortable. “Ann, please…”
“Oh, we’re not going to keep up that old pretence, are we?”
“What’re you trying to do?”
“They can’t take your life, Hugh. Own up. Be brave.”
“My husband hasn’t seen you in four years,” states Jean.
“You told her that?” says Ann to Hugh.
“Isn’t it the truth?” asks Jean.
Ann smiles insincerely at Hugh. “Whatever you say, sweetie.”
Marker speaks. “The receptionist at the Carlton Hotel admitted to me that someone bribed him to identify you from the photograph and to falsify the register.”
“Now what have you got to say?” demands Jean.
Ann appears unruffled. “Money talks, doesn’t it?”
“Whose?” asks Marker.
“Yours, of course,” claims Ann. “I’m devoted to Hugh. Why should I lie about him? He’s in a spot. If you want me to help, just ask. But really – don’t try to catch me out with far-fetched taradiddles about bribed hotel receptionists. It’s too silly.”
Jean addresses Marker. “There must be some way of proving whether that picture’s four years old,” she says. Marker can’t think of one. Hugh shakes his head, wretchedly. Jean can’t face him. Ann smiles, mischievously. Abruptly, Jean says, “Let me look at it.”
“No!” cry Hugh and Ann together, but Marker realises it could be the only hope. He hands her the photo. No one’s keen to look at her as she steels herself to look at it. She does so.
After a pause, she declares, “That’s not my husband.”
“Now I’ve heard everything!” scoffs Ann.
Marker ignores her. Instead, he asks Jean, “What makes you say that?”
Jean points to the picture. “It’s his head, all right, but –”
“Prove it!” shouts Ann.
Jean stares at her, fiercely. “I’ve been married to him for twelve years. I ought to know his body better than you.”
Ann looks hurt. Hugh makes a consoling gesture towards her, but she recoils. “Get away from me!” she snaps.
“Not very lover-like,” comments Marker.
“Do you expect me to be?” spits Ann.
“Why?” wonders Hugh.
Ann looks at him with real loathing. “You don’t even know.”
Jean guesses the truth. “Because he ditched you.”
“It was the way he did,” Ann tells her. “We’d been lovers for almost a year.” Her anger gives way to sadness. “At least, I loved him.” Jean makes a small, sympathetic move. Ann pulls away from her. “Don’t pity me!” she yells, her voice full of venom again. “We talked about you,” she taunts. “You should have heard.” Jean nods, understanding. This only makes Ann hate her even more. “Don’t you dare pity me! I thought we had something. The fact that he belonged to you, that we had to keep it a secret – even that seemed special in a way. And then, at the first breath of trouble –”
“Is that how it seemed?” asks Hugh.
“What a jellyfish you turned out to be!” sneers Ann. She turns to Jean. “We were going out that night. Half an hour before we were supposed to meet, I got a note.”
“I made him send it,” Jean admits.
Ann still blames Hugh. “A note!” she cries. “You didn’t even have the guts to come and say goodbye. And afterwards – having me moved when of all the times I’ve needed friends, familiar things –”
Hugh tries to explain. “I thought a clean break would be best –”
Ann cuts him off. “Best?! Easier, you mean. Easier for you. Never mind what happened to me.” Her ire turns to sadness once again. Jean looks on with sympathy. “I wanted to die,” continues Ann. Hugh looks appalled. Ann quickly clarifies. “No, I’m not being melodramatic. I don’t mean I wanted to kill myself. I just didn’t particularly want to go on living. Only somehow one does, doesn’t one? I did. And gradually, I made up my mind I’d get even with you when the opportunity came. I knew it would. And sure enough –”
Marker asks, “Who put you up to it?”
“Hetheridge.”
“Mark Hetheridge?” asks Hugh. “Did he tell you why?”
“He didn’t want to,” says Ann. “You know what a rat he is. But when he realised I wouldn’t do it for money… The Board wants to get rid of you.”
Hugh guesses the reason why. “Because of Parsons and Hammond?”
Ann nods. “That’s why the price is inflated. It’s going through a private company owned by Hetheridge.”
“With a few hundred thousand being filched for the boys on the way?”
“Precisely,” says Ann. For a moment, nothing more is said. Then Ann remarks, “Funny. I’d been looking forward to it so much. But when it came to the crunch… it doesn’t seem to matter that much. Not any more. Not to me.” She looks at Hugh. “Seeing you again… I really can’t believe that that’s what all the fuss was about.” She shrugs. “Sorry, but there it is.” Another pause, then, to everyone in the room, she says, “Well, you’ll have things to talk about, I expect. If you want a statement, you know where to find me.” Then she faces Jean. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” replies Jean.
“I meant, for both of us. All three, really.” Ann leaves.
For a moment, no one speaks. Then, practical as ever, Marker notes, “The Chairman’ll be expecting us.” The men get ready to go. Hugh offers his wife a lift home.
“I’d sooner stay here a while if I may,” she replies.
Marker nods. “If you fancy a cup of tea –”
Jean smiles, faintly. “I know where it is.” The men leave her alone in the office, with her thoughts.
* * *
In his own office, Birch addresses Hugh. “You realise, I hope, that I had not the faintest inkling –”
“I never thought you did, Jimmy,” smiles Hugh. In the background, Marker looks less positive.
Birch is still reeling, a mixture of anger and confusion. “Of all the diabolical… Look here, what’s to do?”
“I think this is where I take my leave,” decides Marker. “If you need corroboration –”
“That won’t be necessary,” says Hugh.
Birch objects. “Now, just a minute. You’ve every right to institute proceedings. Every right.”
“I thought we were trying to avoid a scandal,” Hugh points out.
“I don’t think the Company has any rights in the matter any longer.”
“Jean has.”
Birch accepts this. “Whatever you say, Hugh. Just what you say. I’ll insist on having their resignations, of course.”
“That’ll put Humpty Dumpty together again, won’t it?” says Marker, cynically. He moves towards the door.
Birch pipes up. “About your fee –”
“I’ll bill you as agreed,” replies Marker, matter-of-factly.
“But you’ve been to enormous trouble –”
“If you’d like to stick on a bit, I won’t refuse. If not…” Marker shrugs.
Hugh thanks him for all his help, adding, “I think you can count on us to do the right thing.”
“In the end,” mutters Marker, “if a few people do go to the wall on the way.” He exits.
Birch turns to Hugh. “Let’s tackle your former colleagues, shall we?” Always more confident when Hugh Clayton is around to support his decisions, Birch is now quite different from the railroaded old man seen at the last Board meeting. He’s in tough Chairman mode. Heads are about to roll. They step through into the boardroom. The other directors look up as Birch appears. “Brought someone to see you,” he announces.
They react with shock and fear as Hugh comes in. He nods, greeting them calmly. “Gentlemen.”
* * *
Hugh returns home to find the house in darkness. He turns on the light in the entrance hall and calls out his wife’s name. Receiving no reply, he walks through to the living area, where he reaches for another light switch. Suddenly, he hears Jean’s voice: “Don’t.”
Hugh makes out her figure among the shadows. “What are you doing sitting here in the dark?” he asks, humouring her.
“Just sitting,” she replies.
“Don’t you want to know what happened?”
“You’re going to tell me.”
Hugh grins. “If you’d seen their faces! They all resigned, of course. And guess what? The old man’s offered the MDship to me.”
Jean repeats the phrase in confusion. “The MDship?”
“Wake up, old girl,” smiles Hugh. “The Managing Directorship. Isn’t that pretty splendid?” Unfortunately, Jean doesn’t share her husband’s high spirits. She’s unable to forget about Ann Maitland. Hugh struggles to convince her. “It’s over. Over and done with.”
Jean shakes her head. While Ann’s actions have caused Hugh to lose all sympathy for his former lover, Jean’s views have shifted the other way. “No, Hugh,” she says. “Seeing that girl –”
Hugh flinches. “Don’t say it!”
“Oh, we’ll go on,” Jean assures him, without enthusiasm. “It’s the things one does to other people – without even knowing them.”
“It’s over!” repeats Hugh, more desperately now.
“That’s not over,” Jean insists. “That never is.” However, though her words and her mind reject him, her arms go out in answer to his plea. She holds him, comforting him, drawing no comfort except from her role as comforter.