Jumpers (6 page)

GEORGE
: I take it then that we are all agreed that God exists, cried of, ‘Oh!', I mean a First Cause, cries of, ‘Oh, Oh!', you have not been giving me your proper attention, I will attempt a resume, uproar, cries of ‘Resign'—Firstly, is God? Secondly that every series has a first term is a condition that makes God a logical necessity. Thirdly, every series does, the notion of infinity without beginning being rejected
a priori
, thank you.
(Snatches page off desk
.) Fifthly, mathematics is not simply the technique of counting—
(Breaks off. Takes new sheet of paper
.)
To which end I have brought with me a specially trained tortoise——
(Breaks off again
.) Pat!?
(He heads back towards the Bedroom where
DOTTY
has just
dumped the
JUMPER
into the chair. The chair is upstage facing
the audience
.
DOTTY
is standing up against the chair with her back to the audience. The tortoise has been left downstage right, so
GEORGE
is going to cross the Bedroom behind
DOTTY
'
s back.
The
JUMPER
'
s yellow trousers are ill concealed by
DOTTY
'
s body
.
GEORGE
enters
.
GEORGE
enters.
As
GEORGE
opens the door
,
DOTTY
calmly lets her robe slip
down her back until it hangs like a drape below her buttocks, her arms, still in the sleeves, held out to the sides; thus concealing the
JUMPER
from view. Thus, she is naked from the
thighs up, back view
.
GEORGE
glances casually at her as he crosses the room
.)

GEORGE
:
Bottom?
(
DOTTY
lifts the robe to cover her bottom.)
Back
…. Somebody's back…?
(
He picks up the tortoise
,
DOTTY
turns to look at him
coquettishly over her shoulder. He is recrossing the room to wards the door.)
Lulu's
back!—in town——Very good!
(He leaves, closing the door, and re-enters the Study
.
DOTTY
pulls her robe on again.
The Bedroom fades out.
In the Study, he picks up the bow and an arrow
.)

GEORGE
(
to himself):
The Vice-Chancellor? (
The doorbell rings. He hesitates
.)
He's early.
(Looks at his watch
.) Good God, it's unprofessional conduct. He's only just
left.
(He marches to the door, brandishing his bow and arrow, and, putting his mouth to the tortoise's ear, or thereabouts, confides in it
.)
Now might I do it, Pat.
(He opens the Front Door.
It is
INSPECTOR BONES
.
He carries a bunch of flowers.
The door is opened to him by a man holding a bow-and-arrow in one hand and a tortoise in the other, his face covered in shaving foam
,
BONES
recoils from the spectacle, and
GEORGE
is somewhat taken aback too. A rapid exchange follows…
.) Yes?

BONES
: Ah!——Bones!

GEORGE
: What?

BONES
: As in rags-and.

GEORGE
: Rags and bones???

BONES
: Yes—no. Bones' the name, as in dem bones, dem bones….
(Pause
.)… dem dry bones. That's a tortoise is it?

GEORGE
: I'm sorry, I was expecting a psychiatrist.

BONES
: No really?
(
BONES
is himself again, master of any situation. He advances past
GEORGE
on the last line
.)

GEORGE
: I'm really rather busy.
(
BONES
is now past him
.
BONES
looks at
GEORGE
with
unconcealed interest
.)

BONES
: What is it that you do?

GEORGE
: I'm a professor of moral philosophy.

BONES
(wagging a finger):
I'm very glad you said that, son.
(
BONES
continues his inspection of the hall
.)

GEORGE
: Perhaps I can help you.

BONES
: In my inquiries, you mean, or just generally? Think carefully before you answer—if it gets about that you're helping me in my
inquiries
, bang goes your credit at the off-licence for a start. Inspector Bones, C.I.D.—tell Miss Moore I'm here, there's a good lad.

GEORGE
(rather coldly):
It's
Mrs
. Moore, actually.

BONES
: Moore is her married name?

GEORGE
: Yes, Moore is
my
name.

BONES
(shrewdly):
You are the husband.

GEORGE
: Yes.

BONES
: Professor… Moore.

GEORGE
: Yes….
(Lightening
.) Yes, I'm something of a logician
myself
.

BONES
: Really? Sawing ladies in half, that sort of thing?

GEORGE
: Logician.
(
BONES
is casing the Hall expertly, just with his eyes
.) Would you like me to take your flowers, Inspector?

BONES
: I was hoping to see Miss Moore personally.

GEORGE
: Well, it's awfully nice of you to come round….

BONES
: Not at all. If I'm going to arrest her, I can hardly do it by Interflora.

GEORGE
: Arrest her?

BONES
: Do not be misled by appearances, Charlie. Miss Moore is a great favourite in the Force and I have knocked down many a man who has defaced her photograph in the station canteen—
but
, the law in implacable, it makes no distinction between rich and poor, famous and anonymous, innocent and——I mean, Jack, if the telephone call which set in motion this inquiry was the whim of a lunatic, as I myself suspect, then I will simply take the opportunity of presenting this token tribute to a fine actress, a great singer and a true lady—after which, I will take my leave, perhaps with her autograph on the cover of this much played much loved gramophone record—
(from a capacious inside-pocket of his raincoat
)—and, who knows? the lingering touch of a kiss brushed against an admirer's cheek…
(Reverie
….)
BUT
!—if it so happens that there is any truth in the allegations concerning events in this luxury penthouse yesterday night, then there are going to be some bruised petals underfoot as the full majesty of the law comes down on her like a ton of bricks, you take my meaning, Ferdinand?
(Entering the Study
.) Is this the scene of your morals?
(The
SECRETARY
stares at him.)
(Unnecessarily
.) Don't move.
(
BONES
acts as if he owns the place, picking things up and putting them down; glancing over the typewritten sheets on
GEORGE
'
s desk
.)

GEORGE
: This is my secretary—she and I were just——
(He catches sight of himself on the fourth-wall mirror (the effect is of a double-take at the audience). He puts down the tortoise and the archery kit, and wipes his face hastily
.)
Oh—I should explain——

BONES
: I prefer to use my imagination. When will your wife be back?

GEORGE
: She's in bed—indisposed—waiting for the doctor.

BONES
: Lockjaw?

GEORGE
: No.

BONES
: Then we can have a chat. Is God what?
(He is reading the first page of the typescript
.)

GEORGE
: What?——Oh—it's a paper I am presenting to the symposium tonight at the university. I am one of two main speakers on the subject, ‘Man—good, bad or indifferent?' The subject is in fact the same every year but there is enough disagreement about its meaning to ensure a regular change of topic. It is the first time I have been asked to speak, you know… I had hoped to set British moral philosophy back forty years, which is roughly when it went off the rails, but unfortunately, though my convictions are intact and my ideas coherent, I can't seem to find the words….

BONES
: Well, ‘Are God?' is wrong for a start.

GEORGE
: Or rather, the words betray the thoughts they are supposed to express. Even the most generalized truth begins to look like special pleading as soon as you trap it in language. It would be a great opportunity if only I could seize it…
I mean, it's really the event of the year.
(Pause
.) In the world of moral philosophy, that is.

BONES
(putting down the script
): It's not a world I move in very much.

GEORGE
: No.

BONES
: Show business is my main interest, closely followed by crime detection. If this is the largest room in the flat I don't think I'll be troubling you long.

GEORGE
: Oh. Well… the Bedroom is about the same size, but of course there's the main living room….

BONES
: Living room? Big room?

GEORGE
: It is big, yes, it was the ballroom before the place was converted into flats.

BONES
: High ceiling?

GEORGE
: Yes.

BONES
: Ah. Take a troupe of acrobats, would it?

GEORGE
(
pause
): Yes. I'm afraid so.

BONES
: Getting my drift, Sidney? Let's have a look.
(
BONES
walks out of the Study. After a moment of nonplussed hesitance,
GEORGE
follows quickly, catching up outside the
Study door, which he closes behind him
.)

GEORGE
: Inspector!—I think I can help you in your inquiries.
I'm your man. I am the mystery telephone caller.

BONES
(
pause
): You laid information against your wife, sir?

GEORGE
: Yes. Well, it was really against myself more than my wife.

BONES
: Anonymously. Against yourself?

GEORGE
: Yes.

BONES
: You have a funny way of going about things. Are you trying to prepare the ground for a plea of insanity?

GEORGE
: I don't understand you. I didn't give my name because
I could hardly register a complaint about the noise issuing from my own flat. So I pretended to be a neighbour who couldn't sleep.

BONES
: Your phone call was about the noise?

GEORGE
: Yes.

BONES
: You didn't mention—an acrobat?

GEORGE
: Did I?

BONES
: Or a naked woman swinging from the chandeliers?

GEORGE
: Oh yes! I'm ashamed to say I did. I said I saw her from the window opposite. I thought a suggestion of immorality might get the police round more quickly than mere exuberance. Not a word of truth in it, of course. I mean about me being at a window opposite. And I withdraw the complaint anyway; the young woman is of excellent character and notably self-composed as a rule. It was a side of her I'd never seen before. High spirits, no doubt. Incidentally, I don't know who answers the phone at your place but he told me to draw my curtains and remember that I was young once; not what one expects.

BONES
(
he produces a notebook
): Who was at this party…?

GEORGE
: Oh… academics, writers, doctors, philosophers, actors, musicians, party-workers, acrobats; and of course the Vice-Chancellor who is a bit of everything.

BONES
: A mixed bunch.

GEORGE
: Not really. I mean, they're all local Rad-Lib celebrities.
It was a victory party.

BONES
: You were not celebrating it yourself?

GEORGE
: No, I'm not interested in politics. I was trying to write
my paper. Apart from bunking down on the couch for a couple of hours at dawn, I've been hard at it. Oh, I popped in once or twice, mainly to tell them to keep the music down. My paper was not coming well and I anticipated a strongly argued riposte from Professor McFee, who obviously thought he had the matter well in hand since he was one of the people actually making all the noise.

BONES
: Professor McFee?

GEORGE
: Professor of Logic, and my chief adversary at the symposium. A very good man in his way, though perhaps I should describe him as generally approved of—he doesn't, of course, believe in good and bad as such.

BONES
: Really? How do you mean?

GEORGE
: He thinks good and bad aren't actually
good
and
bad
in any absolute or metaphysical sense, he believes them to be categories of our own making, social and psychological conventions which we have evolved in order to make living in groups a practical possibility, in much the same way as we have evolved the rules of tennis without which Wimbledon Fortnight would be a complete shambles, do you see? For example, McFee would hold that when we speak of, say, telling the truth as being ‘good', and, er, casual murder as being ‘bad', you don't really want to go into all this, do you?