ACT 3
(Same suburban kitchen. Enter HE and SHE, wearing bowling shirts.)
HE: Well, that wasn't too bad, was it?
SHE: It's not my favourite sport.
HE: But I mean, all things considered.
SHE: I suppose so.
HE: Shall I make us a coffee?
SHE: No, I'll make it.
HE: No, you sit down. I'll do it.
(HE rattles sugar jar.)
Funny, him getting so worked up about a spoon in the sugar jar.
SHE: So rattled, you mean!
(They both laugh.)
But was it the spoon?
HE: Don't you start.
SHE: I think I'd prefer tea.
HE: I could murder a beer.
SHE: There's lager in the fridge.
HE: Oh yes! How about you?
SHE: I'll stick with tea, thanks.
HE: I don't think we'll do that again.
SHE: What?
HE: Go out with them.
SHE: Especially if you don't like bowling.
HE: It's not that.
SHE: What, then?
HE: I don't feel comfortable.
SHE: With them?
HE: With him.
SHE: It wasn't him made those aspersions.
HE: Yes, I agree. That was a bit strong.
SHE: Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.
HE: He seemed a bit surprised.
SHE: But you started it.
HE: Me?
SHE: Yes.
HE: I never mentioned it.
SHE: When I was in the living room with that young policewoman.
His whole manner seemed to have changed when I came back in. I don't know what you were telling him while I was out.
HE: He was on about religion.
SHE: Religion?
HE: Asking about my name for God. I think he's a Mason, though he denied it.
SHE: Well, they always do, don't they?
HE: Deny it?
SHE: Yes, being Masons. Supposed to be secret isn't it?
Anyway, why didn't you tell him you're not religious?
HE: That's what I told him. I'm not sure he believed me.
SHE: Funny thing though.
HE: What?
SHE: The Bible doesn't mention it.
HE: What?
SHE: What she was implying about me.
HE: Doesn't it?
SHE: It's all about men.
HE: Men?
SHE: You know. Doing it together.
HE: Didn't know you were so well up on the Bible.
SHE: Me and my mates used to look up all the dirty bits during the boring old sermons. When the vicar came to school assembly.
HE: Dirty bits?
SHE: You know. Drunken Lot and his daughters. Onan. The whore of Babylon.
HE: I thought that was supposed to be the Catholic church.
SHE: I was very naive.
HE: You still are.
SHE: I knew what she was up to, any road. You were oblivious.
HE: What do you mean, you were naïve?
SHE: I didn't know what a whore was.
HE: Really?
SHE: I pronounced it war.
(Doorbell rings.)
You get it. I'll pour out the tea. Lager for you?
HE: Yes please.
(HE exits. A pause.)
SHE: (Calls):
Who is it?
(No reply.)
Darling?
(SHE goes to the door.)
Who is it?
(No reply.)
Funny.
(SHE exits and returns after a moment, muttering.)
No one there. Wonder where he's gone? Leaving the door wide open. It's getting so people can't . . .
(Doorbell rings.)
Now what?
(SHE exits and returns with WOMAN.)
SHE: Was that you?
WOMAN: When?
SHE: Just now. Doorbell rang. He went to the door and now he's nowhere to be found.
WOMAN: Have you looked in the loo?
SHE: The loo?
WOMAN: You've got a dressing room by the front door, haven't you? Just like ours?
SHE: Yes.
WOMAN: Perhaps he's in there. Men his age.
SHE: His age?
WOMAN: They get caught short. Mine's always up and down, in and out the loo.
SHE: I hadn't noticed.
Anyway, he's been a long time in there, if that's where he is.
WOMAN: Perhaps he's a bit constipated.
SHE: No. He has All-Bran for breakfast.
Anyway, what about the door?
WOMAN: The door?
SHE: Leaving it open. And the doorbell. If it wasn't you.
WOMAN: No, I assure you.
SHE: (Beginning to panic):
So where on EARTH is he?
WOMAN: There's got to be a logical explanation. Perhaps he's popped out for some fags.
SHE: He'd have said. Can't you understand: HE'S DISAPPEARED! We've been together for years. Then . . . suddenly . . . the doorbell rings, he goes to answer it, and then . . .
WOMAN: Then what?
SHE: Then nothing. Nada. Zilch. Vanished!
WOMAN: No, come on.
SHE: No, you come on. I'm going to search the house from top to bottom.
(Goes to door and shouts.)
Darling!
See – there's no answer.
WOMAN: Perhaps he's gone to bed.
SHE: No, not without saying goodnight. And besides, I'd just poured him out a lager. No way he'd leave that on the draining board to get warm and flat.
WOMAN: I can't stand beer on a man's breath when we go to bed.
SHE: I didn't know you slept together.
WOMAN: Whatever gave you that idea? Of course we do.
SHE: He told my husband.
WOMAN: Your partner?
SHE: Yes.
WOMAN: The bastard!
SHE: My . . . er . . . partner?
WOMAN: No, him. Telling our private business to all and sundry.
SHE: He said yours was just a professional relationship.
WOMAN: He said that?
SHE: Yes.
WOMAN: The bastard!
SHE: Do you think he's anything to do with it?
WOMAN: With what?
SHE: My man's disappearance.
WOMAN: I prefer that.
SHE: What?
WOMAN: Calling him your man, rather than your partner. Sounds so cold, “partner”. PC – political correctness – gone mad.
SHE: Never mind that. What are we going to do?
(Goes to door and calls again.)
Darling? Where are you?
I'm going to look in the bedroom, see if he's gone to sleep like you say.
Then I'm ringing the law.
WOMAN: I wouldn't do that, if I were you.
SHE: Why on earth not?
WOMAN: Inadvisable, in my humble opinion.
SHE: But he's gone missing.
WOMAN: You don't know that.
SHE: So where is he then?
WOMAN: Sit down, love.
SHE: You know something, don't you?
WOMAN: Yes, well, I did come round to warn you.
SHE: Warn me?
WOMAN: Though it seems I'm too late.
SHE: Warn me? About what?
WOMAN: Well, really to warn him. I don't think you're in any danger.
SHE: Danger?
WOMAN: Of being picked up. Like your . . . er . . . partner.
SHE: Oh my God.
WOMAN: My husband's had him under surveillance for some time.
SHE: Your partner? What on earth for?
WOMAN: And that religious business just settled it. We've all got to be on the look out for religious extremists. Fanatics.
SHE: But he's not at all religious.
WOMAN: That's what HE told you.
SHE: No, I'm sure you're wrong. He said he didn't believe in marriage. That's not very religious.
WOMAN: So you discussed it.
SHE: Yes. I wanted a white wedding.
WOMAN: In church?
SHE: No, of course not. I'm divorced.
WOMAN: I see.
SHE: What do you see?
WOMAN: Most people wouldn't be bothered. Tell a few white lies to the vicar. Church bells and all the trimmings.
But you couldn't do that, oh no. Nor could your old man.
SHE: What d'you mean?
WOMAN: Well naturally, being religious he'd want a "proper" wedding, in a church. But since you're divorced . . .
SHE: But that's fantastic.
WOMAN: No more fantastic than someone trying to blow up a plane with a bomb in his boot.
SHE: You're not saying . . . He couldn't be a terrorist!
WOMAN: My dear, anyone could be a terrorist. Even you.
SHE: Me?
WOMAN: Well, your partner is – how shall we say – under suspicion. And after all, you've got similar religious beliefs.
SHE: But . . . !
WOMAN: About marriage, for instance. You could have insisted. But you didn't. And we only have your word for what transpired.
SHE: Oh my God.
WOMAN: Being a female would be a lot better cover, don't you think?
SHE: Cover?
WOMAN: For whatever you have been up to.
Perhaps it's not him. It could be you.
SHE: Oh my God.
WOMAN: Which is why I'm here, after all.
SHE: What?
WOMAN: I did come to warn you, after all.
SHE: Yes but . . .
WOMAN: You're in some danger, at the moment. Guilt by association, you know.
SHE: My God.
WOMAN: Yes, well, it's all about God, isn't it?
SHE: God?
WOMAN: To his greater glory.
SHE: What on earth do you mean?
WOMAN: OK, I'll spell it out for you.
SHE: Please do.
WOMAN: Your partner's been picked up because he's a religious extremist.
SHE: We don't know that.
WOMAN: But it's a reasonable assumption.
SHE: Well . . . ?
WOMAN: He's not religious, you say. And nor are you.
SHE: No.
WOMAN: But you are.
SHE: What!?
WOMAN: You keep saying “My God”.
SHE: Doesn't everyone?
WOMAN: Actually, no. We keep records.
SHE: Records?
WOMAN: Speech patterns, things like that. Mainly on the phone. There are computers . . .
SHE: My God.
WOMAN: See? So you're religious . . .
SHE: I'm not.
WOMAN: Well, just for the sake of argument . . . It's only a hypothesis, for the moment. Bear with me.
SHE: OK.
WOMAN: So what's your best course of action?
SHE: Action?
WOMAN: Since you're under suspicion.
SHE: To run away and hide?
WOMAN: No. That'd be tantamount to an admission of guilt.
No, you go straight to the authorities and denounce HIM.
SHE: Yes, but.
WOMAN: They're bound to ask you was anyone else in on the plot.
SHE: They will?
WOMAN: Bound to.
SHE: But there is no plot.
WOMAN: Bear with me. Then – you denounce HIM!
SHE: Him?
WOMAN: Yes, him. My partner. I'll back you up. Then we'll both be in the clear.
SHE: In the clear?
WOMAN: Oh, don't be so naive, my dear.
(A pause.)
(WOMAN reaches out her hand.)
We'll both be better off without them.
You know it makes sense.
CURTAIN
THE END
