COLD READ 1 – RUTH, EDITH & CHARLES

RUTH. Now you'd better fetch the ice-bucket.
EDITH. Yes'm.
RUTH Did you manage to get the ice out of those little tin trays?
EDITH. Yes'm—I 'ad a bit of a struggle though—but it's all right.
RUTH. And you filled the little trays up again with water?
EDITH. Yes'm.

RUTH Very good, Edith—you're making giant strides.
EDITH. Yes'm.
RUTH. Madame Arcati, Mrs. Bradman and I will have our coffee in here after dinner, and Mr. Condomine and Doctor Brad¬man will have theirs in the dining-room—-is that quite clear?
EDITH. Yes'm.
RUTH. And when you're serving dinner, Edith, try to remember to do it calmly and methodically.
EDITH. Yes'm.
RUTH. As you are not in the Navy, it is unnecessary to do everything at the double.

EDITH. Very good,'m.
RUTH. Now go and get the ice.
EDITH Yes'm.
RUTH. Not at a run, Edith.
EDITH) Yes'm.
CHARLES. No sign of the advancing hordes?
RUTH. Not yet.
CHARLES No ice.
RUTH. It's coming. I've been trying to discourage Edith from being quite so fleet of foot. You mustn't mind if everything is a little slow motion to-night.

CHARLES I shall welcome it. The last few days have been extremely agitating. What do you suppose induced Agnes to leave us and go and get married?
RUTH. The reason was becoming increasingly obvious, dear.
CHARLES. Yes, but in these days nobody thinks anything of that sort of thing. She could have popped into the cottage hospital, had it, and popped out again.

RUTH. Her social life would have been seriously undermined.
CHARLES We must keep Edith in the house more.
RUTH. That's right, Edith. Put it down on the table.

EDITH Yes'm.

CHARLES. I left my cigarette-case on my dressing-table, Edith. Would you get it for me?

 EDITH. Yes, sir.
 
CHARLES. There now!
RUTH. You took her by surprise.
CHARLES  A dry Martini, I think, don't you?
RUTH. Yes, darling. I expect Madame Arcati will want some¬thing sweeter.
CHARLES. We'll have this one for ourselves, anyhow.
RUTH. Oh dear!
CHARLES. What's the matter?
RUTH. I have a feeling that this evening's going to be awful.
CHARLES. It'll probably be funny, but not awful.
RUTH. You must promise not to catch my eye. If I giggle—and I'm very likely to—it will ruin everything.

CHARLES. You mustn't. You must be dead serious and if possible a little  
        intense. We can't hurt the old girl's feelings, however funny she  
         is.

RUTH. But why the Bradmans, darling? He's as skeptical as we are. He'll probably say the most dreadful things.

CHARLES. I've warned him. There must be more than three people and we couldn't have the Vicar and his wife  because (a) they're dreary, and (b) they probably wouldn't have approved at all. It had to be the Bradmans. (EDITH rushes into the room with Charles's cigarette-case)
   (Taking it) Thank you, Edith. Steady does it.

 EDITH (breathlessly) Yes, sir.

CHARLES. We might make her walk about with a book on her head like they do in deportment lessons.  Here, try this.

RUTH Lovely—dry as a bone.
CHARLES To 'The Unseen'!
RUTH. I must say that's a wonderful title.
CHARLES. If this evening's a success, I shall start on the first draft tomorrow.
RUTH. How extraordinary it is.

CHARLES. What?

RUTH. Oh, I don't know—being right at the beginning of something. It gives one an odd feeling.

CHARLES  Do you remember how I got the idea for The Light Goes Out?

RUTH. Suddenly seeing that haggard, raddled woman in the hotel at Biarritz. Of course I remember. We sat up half the night talking about it.

CHARLES. She certainly came in very handy. I wonder who she was.

RUTH. And if she ever knew, I mean ever recognized, that description of herself. Poor thing . . . here's to her, anyhow.

CHARLES Have another.
 

COLD READ 2 – RUTH, CHARLES, DR. BRADMAN, MRS BRADMAN,

RUTH. It might be Madame Arcati.
CHARLES. No, she'll come on her bicycle. She always goes everywhere on her bicycle.

RUTH. It really is very spirited of the old girl. (The front doorbell rings)

CHARLES. Shall I go, or shall we let Edith have her fling?
RUTH. Wait a minute and see what happens.
CHARLES. Perhaps she didn't hear.
RUTH. She's probably on one knee in a pre-sprinting position, waiting for cook to open the kitchen door.
(There is the sound of a door banging and EDITH is seen scampering across the hall)
CHARLES. Steady, Edith.
EDITH (dropping to a walk) Yes, sir.

(After a moment, DR and MRS BRADMAN come into the room. Charles goes forward to meet them. Dr Bradman is a pleasant-looking middle-aged man. Mrs. Bradman is fair and rather faded. MRS BRADMAN comes to RUTH, who meets her above the sofa and shakes hands. DR BRADMAN shakes hands with CHARLES)

EDITH. Doctor and Mrs. Bradman. (EDITH goes)
DR BRADMAN. We're not late, are we? I only got back from the hospital about half an hour ago.

CHARLES. Of course not. Madame Arcati isn't here yet.
MRS BRADMAN. That must have been her we passed coming down the hill. I said I thought it was.
RUTH. Then she won't be long. I'm so glad you were able to come.
MRS BRADMAN. We've been looking forward to it. I feel really quite excited.

DR BRADMAN I guarantee that Violet will be good. I made her promise.

MRS BRADMAN. There wasn't any need. I'm absolutely thrilled. I've only seen Madame Arcati two or three times in the village. I mean I've never seen her do anything at all peculiar, if you know what I mean?
CHARLES. Dry Martini?

DR BRADMAN. By all means.
CHARLES She certainly is a strange woman. It was only a chance remark of the Vicar's about seeing her up on the Knoll on Midsummer Eve dressed in sort of Indian robes that made me realize that she was psychic at all. Then I began to make enquiries. Apparently she's been a professional in London for years.

MRS BRADMAN. It is funny, isn't it? I mean anybody doing it as a profession.
DR BRADMAN. I believe it's very lucrative.
MRS BRADMAN. Do you believe in it, Mrs. Condomine? Do you think there's anything really genuine about it at all?

RUTH. I'm afraid not; but I do think it's interesting how easily people allow themselves to be deceived.

MRS BRADMAN. But she must believe it herself, mustn't she? Or is the whole business
a fake?

CHARLES. I suspect the worst. A real professional charlatan. That's what I am hoping for, anyhow. The character I am plan¬ning for my book must be a complete impostor. That's one of the most important factors of the whole story.

DR BRADMAN. What exactly are you hoping to get from her?

CHARLES. Jargon, principally; a few of the tricks of the trade. I haven't been to a séance for years. I want to refresh my memory.

DR BRADMAN (rising) Then it's not entirely new to you?

CHARLES Oh, no. When I was a little boy an aunt of mine used to come and stay with us. She imagined that she was a medium and used to go off into the most elaborate trances after dinner. My mother was fascinated by it.
MRS BRADMAN. Was she convinced?
CHARLES. Good heavens, no. She just naturally disliked my aunt and loved making a fool of her.

DR BRADMAN. I gather that there were never any tangible results?
CHARLES. Oh, sometimes she didn't do so badly. On occasion when we were all sitting round in the pitch dark with my mother groping her way through Chaminade at the piano, my aunt sud¬denly gave a shrill scream and said that she saw a small black dog by my chair. Then someone switched on the lights and sure enough there it was.

 

COLD READ 3 – CHARLES, RUTH, MADAME ARCATI, DR BRADMAN, MRS BRADMAN

CHARLES. You told Edith we didn't want to be disturbed?
RUTH. Yes, darling.
MADAME ARCATI (crossing below the séance table, over to the mantel¬piece. Then she walks about the room—twisting and untwisting her hands) This is a moment I always hate.

RUTH. Are you nervous?
MADAME ARCATI. Yes. When I was a girl I always used to be sick.
DR BRADMAN. How fortunate that you grew out of it.
RUTH. Children are always much more prone to be sick than grown-ups, though, aren't they? I know I could never travel in a train with any degree of safety until I was fourteen.

MADAME ARCATI.  'Little Tommy Tucker sings for his supper. What shall he have but brown bread and butter?' I despise that because it doesn't rhyme at all; but Daphne loves it.
DR BRADMAN. Who's Daphne?
RUTH. Daphne is Madame Arcati's control. She's a little girl.
DR BRADMAN. Oh, I see—yes, of course.
CHARLES. How old is she?
MADAME ARCATI. Rising seven when she died.
MRS BRADMAN. And when was that?
MADAME ARCATI. February the sixth, eighteen eighty-four.
MRS BRADMAN. Poor little thing.
 DR BRADMAN. She must be a bit long in the tooth by now, I should think.
MADAME ARCATI. You should think, Doctor Bradman, but I fear you don't; at least, not profoundly enough.
MRS BRADMAN. Do be quiet, George. You'll put Madame Arcati off.
MADAME ARCATI. Don't worry, my dear, I am quite used to skeptics. They generally turn out to be the most vulnerable and receptive in the long run.
RUTH. You'd better take that warning to heart, Doctor Bradman.
DR BRADMAN. Please forgive me, Madame Arcati. I can assure you I am most deeply interested.
MADAME ARCATI. It is of no consequence. Will you all sit round the table, please, and place your hands downwards on it?
RUTH. Come, Mrs Bradman——
CHARLES. What about the lights?
MADAME ARCATI. All in good time, Mr Condomine. Sit down, please. The fingers should be touching . . . that's right. I presume that that is the gramophone, Mr Condomine?
CHARLES. Yes. Would you like me to start it? It's an electric one.
MADAME ARCATI. Please stay where you are. I can manage. Now let me see—what have we here? Brahms—oh dear me, no; Rachmaninoff—too florid. Where is the dance music?

RUTH. They're the loose ones on the left.

MADAME ARCATI. I see.

CHARLES. I'm afraid they're none of them very new.
MADAME ARCATI. Daphne is really more attached to Irving Berlin than anybody else. She likes a tune she can hum. Ah, here's one—'Always'.

CHARLES. 'Always'!

RUTH. Do sit down, Charles. What is the matter?

CHARLES. Nothing—nothing at all.

MADAME ARCATI. The light switch is by the door?

RUTH. Yes, all except the small one on the desk, and the gramophone.
MADAME ARCAT. Very well, I understand.
RUTH. Charles, do keep still.
MRS BRADMAN. Fingers touching, George. Remember what Madame Arcati said.
MADAME ARCATI. Now there are one or two things that I should like to explain; so will you all listen attentively?
RUTH. Of course.
MADAME ARCATI. Presently, when the music begins, I am going to switch out the lights. I may then either walk about the room for a little or lie down. In due course I shall draw up this dear little stool and join you at the table. I shall place myself between you and your wife, Mr Condomine, and rest my hands lightly upon yours. I must ask you not to address me or move or do anything in the least distracting. Is that quite, quite clear?
CHARLES. Perfectly.
MADAME ARCATI. Of course, I cannot guarantee that anything will happen at all. Daphne may be unavailable. She had a head cold very recently, and was rather under the weather, poor child. On the other hand, a great many things might occur. One of you might have an emanation, for instance; or we might contact a poltergeist, which would be extremely destructive and noisy.

RUTH. In what way destructive?
MADAME ARCATI. They throw things, you know.
RUTH. No, I didn't know.
MADAME ARCATI. But we must cross that bridge when we come 10 it, mustn't we?

CHARLES. Certainly—by all means.
MADAME ARCATI. Fortunately an Elemental at this time of the year is most unlikely.

RUTH. What do Elementals do?
MADAME ARCATI. Oh, my dear, one can never tell. They're dreadfully unpredictable. Usually they take the form of a very cold wind.

MRS BRADMAN. I don't think I shall like that.
MADAME ARCATI. Occasionally reaching almost hurricane velocity.
RUTH. You don't think it would be a good idea to take the more breakable ornaments off the mantelpiece before we start?
MADAME ARCATI.  That really is not necessary, Mrs Condomine. I assure you I have my own methods of dealing with Elementals.
RUTH. I'm so glad.
MADAME ARCATI. Now, then; are you ready to empty your minds?
DR BRADMAN. Do you mean we're to try to think of nothing?
MADAME ARCATI. Absolutely nothing, Doctor Bradman. Con¬centrate on a space or a nondescript colour. That's really the best way.

DR BRADMAN. I'll do my damnedest.
MADAME ARCATI. Good work!—I will now start the music.

COLD READ 4 – CHARLES, RUTH & ELVIRA

CHARLES. Don't you see?
RUTH. See what?
CHARLES. Elvira.
RUTH (staring at him incredulously) Elvira!!
CHARLES (with an effort at social grace) Yes. Elvira dear, this is Ruth. Ruth, this is Elvira.
(RUTH tries to take his arm. CHARLES retreats down stage L)

RUTH (with forced calmness) Come and sit down, darling.

CHARLES. Do you mean to say you can't see her?
RUTH. Listen, Charles—you just sit down quietly by the fire and I'll mix you another drink. Don't worry about the mess on the carpet, Edith can clean it up in the morning. (She takes him by the arm)
CHARLES (breaking away) But you must be able to see her—she's there—look—right in front of you—there!
RUTH. Are you mad! What's happened to you?
CHARLES. You can't see her?
RUTH. If this is a joke, dear, it's gone quite far enough. Sit down, for God's sake, and don't be idiotic.
CHARLES (clutching his head) What am I to do! What the hell am I to do!
ELVIRA. I think you might at least be a little more pleased to see me. After all, you conjured me up.
CHARLES. I didn't do any such thing.
ELVIRA. Nonsense; of course you did. That awful child with the cold came and told me you wanted to see me urgently.
CHARLES. It was all a mistake, a horrible mistake.
RUTH. Stop talking like that, Charles. As I told you before the joke's gone far enough.
CHARLES. I've gone mad, that's what it is, I've just gone raving mad.
RUTH (pouring out some brandy and bringing it to Charles below the piano) Here—drink this.
CHARLES (mechanically—taking it) This is appalling!

RUTH. Relax.
CHARLES. How can I relax? I shall never be able to relax again as long as I live.
RUTH. Drink some brandy.
CHARLES (drinking it at a gulp) There! Now are you satisfied?

RUTH. Now sit down.
CHARLES. Why are you so anxious for me to sit down? What good will that do?
RUTH. I want you to relax. You can't relax standing up.
ELVIRA. African natives can. They can stand on one leg for hours.
CHARLES. I don't happen to be an African native.
RUTH. You don't happen to be a what?
CHARLES (savagely) An African native!
RUTH. What's that got to do with it?
CHARLES. It doesn't matter, Ruth; really it doesn't matter.
(CHARLES sits in the armchair. RUTH moves above him)
We'll say no more about it. See, I've sat down.

RUTH. Would you like some more brandy?

CHARLES. Yes, please.
(RUTH goes up to the drinks table with the glass)
ELVIRA. Very unwise. You always had a weak head.
CHARLES. I could drink you under the table.  .
RUTH. There's no need to be aggressive, Charles. I'm doing my best to help you.
CHARLES. I'm sorry.
RUTH (coming to Charles with the brandy) Here, drink this; and then we'll go to bed.
ELVIRA. Get rid of her, Charles; then we can talk in peace.
CHARLES. That's a thoroughly immoral suggestion. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
RUTH. What is there immoral in that?
CHARLES. I wasn't talking to you.
RUTH. Who were you talking to, then?
CHARLES. Elvira, of course.
RUTH. To hell with Elvira!
ELVIRA. There now—she's getting cross.
CHARLES. I don't blame her.
RUTH. What don't you blame her for?
CHARLES (rising and backing downstage L a pace) Oh, God!
RUTH. Now, look here, Charles. I gather you've got some sort of plan behind all this. I'm not quite a fool. I suspected you when we were doing that idiotic séance.
CHARLES. Don't be so silly. What plan could I have?
RUTH. I don't know. It's probably something to do with the characters in your book—how they, or one of them, would react to a certain situation. I refuse to be used as a guinea-pig unless I'm warned beforehand what it's all about.
CHARLES (moving a couple of paces towards Ruth) Elvira is here, Ruth—she's standing a few yards away from you.
RUTH (sarcastically) Yes, dear, I can see her distinctly—under the piano with a zebra!
CHARLES. But Ruth
RUTH. I am not going to stay here arguing any longer.
ELVIRA. Hurray!
CHARLES. Shut up!
RUTH (incensed) How dare you speak to me like that?
CHARLES. Listen, Ruth. Please listen
RUTH. I will not listen to any more of this nonsense. I am up to bed now; I'll leave you to turn out the lights. I shan't be asleep. I'm too upset. So you can come in and say good night to me if you feel like it.
ELVIRA. That's big of her, I must say.
CHARLES. Be quiet. You're behaving like a guttersnipe.
RUTH(icily) That is all I have to say. Good night, Charles. (Ruth walks swiftly out of the room without looking at him again)
CHARLES (following Ruth to the door) Ruth
ELVIRA. That was one of the most enjoyable half-hours I have tor spent.
CHARLES (putting down his glass on the drinks table) Oh, Elvira— How could you!
ELVIRA. Poor Ruth!
CHARLES. (staring at her) This is obviously an hallucination, isn't it?
ELVIRA. I'm afraid I don't know the technical term for it.
CHARLES (coming down c) What am I to do?
ELVIRA. What Ruth suggested—relax.
CHARLES (moving below the chair to the sofa) Where have you come from?
ELVIRA. Do you know, it's very peculiar, but I've sort of forgotten.
CHARLES. Are you to be here indefinitely?
ELVIRA. I don't know that either.
CHARLES. Oh, my God!
ELVIRA. Why? Would you hate it so much if I was?
CHARLES. Well, you must admit it would be embarrassing?
ELVIRA. I don't see why, really. It's all a question of adjusting youself. Anyhow, I think it's horrid of you to be so unwelcoming and disagreeable.
CHARLES. Now look here, Elvira
ELVIRA (near tears) I do. I think you're mean.
CHARLES. Try to see my point, dear. I've been married to Ruth for five years, and you've been dead for seven . . .
ELVIRA. Not dead, Charles. 'Passed over.' It's considered vulgar t0 say 'dead' where I come from.
CHARLES. Passed over, then.
ELVIRA. At any rate, now that I'm here, the least you can do is In make a pretence of being amiable about it.
CHARLES. Of course, my dear, I'm delighted in one way.
ELVIRA. I don't believe you love me any more.
CHARLES. I shall always love the memory of you.
ELVIRA (crossing slowly above the sofa by the armchair to downstage L) I mustn't think me unreasonable, but I really am a little hurt. You called me back; and at great inconvenience I came—and you've been thoroughly churlish ever since I arrived.