A Lobster Through The Letterbox. Dame Hilda: Evadne’s mother Maureen is really not at all like Evadne, well for one thing she looks years younger. This may be attributed partly to the fact that she buys her clothes at a fashion house rather than a government surplus store. And partly to the fact that she employs all the subtle arts of makeup rather than relying on carbolic soap and a quick wipe over with half a cucumber. Of course she's temperamentally very different too. Maureen can be very jolly and fun to be with and that's something that can never be said about Evadne. Furthermore Maureen likes sharing her pleasures. Mind, to be fair Evadne likes doing that as well. The trouble is her pleasures are never worth sharing. Still, it was Maureen's eagerness to share her pleasures that created some problems for us at the old manse during her recent round the world tour. Before visiting Stackton she spent a week or two in Scotland and the mantelpiece in our drawing room was soon almost buried under picture postcards. {Drawing room.} Dame Hilda: Really, Evadne, have you ever seen so many postcards? Dr. Hinge: Only once they were in a kiosk on the sea front at Filey. Dame Hilda: Do you know how many your mother’s sent us so far, dear? Dr. Hinge: Not off hand, no. Dame Hilda: I counted them this morning, 27. Dr. Hinge: Far too many Dame Hilda: And all in less than a fortnight. Dr. Hinge: And the only thing she talks about on those cards is food. Dame Hilda: Well that's not quite true, dear. She mentions the rain quite a lot. And of course the whiskey. You read this morning's one, did you? Dr. Hinge: I glanced at it. But one tour round a distillery sounds very much like a tour round another. And the picture's hardly inspiring is it? two Scots terriers fighting over a haggis. Dame Hilda: I don't think they're fighting over it dear. Dr. Hinge: Then what are they doing over it? Dame Hilda: Well I don't think they're doing anything over it. Not that I can see. After all both the dogs are wearing Tam ‘o shanters, and the haggis has got a smile on its face. Dr. Hinge: Mother really does send the most stupid cards. Dame Hilda: She's not a great one for scenery is she. I suppose the nearest she gets to a view is that one of the golf course at St Andrews. But in the main she appears to prefer the jokey ones. The Loch Ness monster playing the bagpipes. And somebody looking like Harry Lauder standing in a Sauchiehall street with the wind blowing up his kilt. I’m rather surprised the post office let that one through. Dr. Hinge: It came in a plain envelope. Dame Hilda: Oh, did it. Dr. Hinge: Together with the illustrated version of the ball of Kirriemuir. Dame Hilda: Mind I suppose that card by the candle stick there is a sort of view. Dr. Hinge: Unloading crabs at Fraserburgh. Dame Hilda: And the next one to it, really. The prawn patrol at Pittenweem. Dr. Hinge: I think that's an extremely boring card. I mean the only thing she doesn't tell us about those blessed prawns is the colour of their eyes. Dame Hilda: Surely everybody knows they’re black. Two lovely black eyes, oh, a surprise. Now she keeps saying I look like a prawn with two lovely black eyes. Dr. Hinge: Where did you get that from? Dame Hilda: I was taught it by a fishmonger if you must know. Well, several fishmongers in fact. What I suppose one might call a shoal of them! Ha, ha, ha! It was during a dinner at Fishmongers hall. Have you ever been there? Dr. Hinge: No, never. Dame Hilda: It's gorgeous inside and very piscatorial. Oh, you'd love it. Did you know it was a fishmonger who killed Wat Tyler? Dr. Hinge: Yes. Dame Hilda: I thought you might have done. I suppose you were minding the shop for him that day. Ha, ha, ha! Dr. Hinge: Your head really does contain the most curious amalgam of fact and fiction, doesn't it? I wouldn't want a head like yours or my shoulders. Dame Hilda: If you had a head like mine on your shoulders, you'd be a very beautiful woman. Mind I've always been very fond of prawns. Dr. Hinge: Oh, it's back to prawns now, is it? Dame Hilda: And I think those your mother sent us the other day from Pittenweem are the nicest I've ever had. Dr. Hinge: Which is just as well. There's another pint and a half of them in the fridge. Along with the Smokies she sent from Arbroath, the kippers from Loch Fine, the herrings from Leith, and the dill cured salmon she picked up in a Achiltibuie. Dame Hilda: And that's not to mention, the Lochinver cods roe cream that arrived this morning. Dr. Hinge: It didn’t, Dame Hilda: it did. Dr. Hinge: Honestly, I don't know what the postman must think. All we seem to get through our letterbox these days is postcards and fish. He must think we've joined a mail order fish club. Dame Hilda: I don’t know, dear, he'll probably end up quite famous. Dr. Hinge: As what? Dame Hilda: As the only postman in the country who gets bitten by cats. Incidentally, that lobster your mother mentioned still hasn't arrived, you know. Dr. Hinge: Perhaps it won't go through the letterbox. Dame Hilda: Well, he'd have the sense to know that, surely. Dr. Hinge: It was just a little joke, Hilda. Dame Hilda: Oh, was it? I do wish you wouldn't spring them on me like that. No, I'm a bit worried about that lobster. After all, Maureen's mentioned it on several of her postcards and I'm sure it should have been here by now. Dr. Hinge: Well, if it doesn't come second post, perhaps we'd better start making inquiries. It'll probably be the first thing she'll ask for when she gets here. Dame Hilda: Do you think so? Dr. Hinge: You know, I think it's really terribly rude to mail one's meals ahead of one's arrival. Dame Hilda: Evadne, all that fish is the present for us. Dr. Hinge: You don't know mother as well as I do, she's trying to make a point. She's obviously never forgiven me for giving her sardines on toast the last time she was here. Dame Hilda: Well, it wasn't much of a meal, was it? Dr. Hinge: She always used to love sardines on toast. Dame Hilda: Yes but not three evenings running, for dinner. Anyway, this time we'll do her proud. I shall prepare a lovely fish dinner for her for the night she arrives. Something really special, and we'll open a bottle or two of champagne. Dr. Hinge: Oh, if we do that, we'll never get rid of her. Dame Hilda: I say. Do you remember that little champagne song I found the last time she was here? Dr. Hinge: Only too well. Dame Hilda: Shall I, dig it out again? Dr. Hinge: If you must. But this time I do hope I'm not going to have to suffer you and mother attempting to sing it with full glasses of champagne on your heads. The piano keyboard was sticky for weeks. Dame Hilda: Oh, don't be such a party pooper, Evadne. Ah, here it is. Only a glass of champagne, written by Noel Gay for his review, ‘lights up’ with Charles B. Cochran, you know. And of course he wrote it for Evelyn Laye, or Boo, as some of us call her who know her well. Well come along Evadne, this maybe the only chance to hear me do it without a glass on my head.
Here is the picture, a man and a girl Strolling along in the shade He is the marques, the son of an earl She is a pure village maid He tells her he loves her again and again She thinks he's loyal and true And then comes the night that he gives her champagne And does what he ought not to do Only a glass of champagne But it led a poor girl into sin Only a glass of champagne Was the door where the devil crept in She lost her honour in sorrow and pain With her false lover, she pleaded in vain But by the next morning she'd lost it again All for a glass of champagneOnly a glass of champagne But it led a poor girl into sin Only a glass of champagne Was the door where the devil crept in So all you young maidens take warning from her If you’re taken out by a lord or a sir Be careful you don’t let the same thing occur All for a glass of champagne
Dame Hilda: Well done, dear, and played without a single hiccup. Dr. Hinge: And sung without one too, which is even more surprising. {Door knocks.} Dame Hilda: That sounds like the second post. Maud: That sounds like your second post now, Dame ‘ilda. Dame Hilda: Thank you, Maud. Dr. Hinge: I thought she was still out. Dame Hilda: Yes, I didn't hear her comeback from shopping. Dr. Hinge: No, she can’t have slammed the door properly! Maud: Oh, good ‘eaven’s, what ave we got ‘ere?. Dr. Hinge: That's a very irritating habit of her, that talking to herself. Dame Hilda: Oh, Maud will talk to anybody. I've heard her talking into the furniture before now. Dr. Hinge: She was probably telling it to stop shouting, please, clean me! Maud: Here you are, Dame ‘ilda:. Here's your second post. Two more cards from Madame, and this great long lollopy thing. Dame Hilda: What on earth could it be, I wonder? Dr. Hinge: Well, it’s certainly not a lobster. Dame Hilda: Well, it looks more like a sort of sausage. Maud: If it is, it's the longest I've ever seen. I mean, it gave me the shock of me life it did when I seed it lying on the mat? Dame Hilda: Well, it would. Maud: And when I picked it up, and it were all lollopy, well, I wondered what I'd got ‘old of. Dame Hilda: Yes, I suppose you must have done. Maud: I mean, it certainly ain't the sort of thing I'd expect to see coming through a letter box. Not even in this day an’ age. Dr. Hinge: If only people would read labels, look, it tells you, it's an eel. That's the whole smoked eel that mother said she was sending. Dame Hilda: Well, fancy sending it like that, Evadne? I mean, wouldn't you think they'd have cut it up? Dr. Hinge: Not if the point was to send it whole, no. Dame Hilda: Well, I mean, even when they send a snake through the post, they curl it up and pop it in a basket, don't they? Well, don't they? Dr. Hinge: How would I know. I have neither sent nor received a snake through the post. Dame Hilda: Now you're trying to make us feel sorry for you. Maud: I say, Dame ‘ilda, do you remember that snake charmer, as shared our digs when we was with the Rosa Charles Opera Company in Southport? Dame Hilda: Yes, yes, Maud, I think I do. Maud: ‘e used to keep ‘is snakes in the bathroom and we all ‘ad to do everything elsewhere. Dame Hilda: Ah, yes, of course. Maud: ‘e took a bit of a shine to the Doctor, didn't ‘e? Used to take ‘is snakes out if she wanted to go in. ’e only got ‘em out for ‘er. Dame Hilda: That's right. Greater love hath no man. Dr. Hinge: Oh, you two do talk a lot of nonsense. It was just that I was firm with him. We understood each other. Dame Hilda: Yes. I think you did. Dr. Hinge: Well, I mean, I'm blowed if I was being forced to wash in the kitchen and bath four doors down. Dame Hilda: Quite. Dr. Hinge: Even though we did get a shilling off the rent. Dame Hilda: I never bathed four doors down. I used to do all that sort of thing at the Grand Hotel. Dr. Hinge: That was just a stupid waste of money. Dame Hilda: It didn't cost me a penny. The manager happened to be a great admirer of mine. It's just a shame that you had to settle for a snake charmer. Maud: ‘aseem the great. That was ‘is name. Well, that was ‘is stage name, ‘e used to keep ‘is money in ‘is ‘at. Dr. Hinge: How'd you know that? Maud: Cos, one day, while I were watching ‘im, ‘e fetched a penny out of it and asked me to pop out and buy ‘is racing paper, ‘e couldn't go ‘imself, see, not with ‘is anaconda, loose. Dame Hilda: Every time I saw that thing, it gave me the creeps. I wouldn't have let it wind itself round me like that. Dr. Hinge: Actually, that Anaconda was very affectionate. Dame Hilda: Trust you to get on with it. Dr. Hinge: All snakes are, he sometimes used to let me feed his cobras and play the pipe to them. Dame Hilda: I bet that soon got them back in their baskets. Maud: I wonder what ever ‘appened to old ‘asseem. ‘e were saving up to buy an ‘ouse in Letchworth. Dame Hilda: What was he going to call it? Dun charmin’. Dr. Hinge: Actually, he was planning to call it the snake pit. Dame Hilda: How nice for his neighbours. Dr. Hinge: And do you know, he used to joke that his great ambition was to become a JP and sit on the bench in a snake skin suit and shoes. Maud: ‘e were a character, I’ll say that. Dame Hilda: Oh, happy days. Maud: Anyhow, what do you want me to do with this thing, then, Dame ‘ilda? Dame Hilda: What do you suggest, Evadne? Dr. Hinge: Well, I’d just take it out of its wrapping and put it in the fridge, Maud. Maud: Oh, very well, Doctor. But suppose it sticks out a bit too far, an’ I can't shut the door. Will it be all right to bend it? Dr. Hinge: As long as you don't break it, yes. Maud: Why couldn't madame ‘ave sent a stick of Edinburgh rock like anyone else would ‘ave done? Well, we're going to ‘ave to see if we can get you in our fridge me old duck. And if we can't, I warn you, I might ‘ave to curl you up. Dame Hilda: You see, Evadne, she even talks to a whole smoked eel, she really is a very friendly sole. No pun intended, Dr. Hinge: None taken, dear. Actually, that smoked eel will make an excellent starter for your fish dinner, Hilda, with brown bread and butter, black pepper and just a squeeze of lemon. Dame Hilda: It's not the starter I'm worried about, Evadne. I've got a fridge full of starters. But if that blessed lobster doesn't arrive we've got no main course as yet. And according to this latest card, your mother arrives here tomorrow. Dr. Hinge: Oh, no! Dame Hilda: I thought you'd be pleased. Dame Hilda: Well, Evadne's mother duly arrived, but the lobster didn't, and the way things turned out, I wished it had been the other way round. You see, on the morning of her arrival, I telephoned our local fishmonger, Mr. Dingle. And he promised on his hook, line and sinker that he’d deliver a lobster to us in time for dinner. So Evadne and I decided that we would let Maureen think that this lobster was hers. Oh, can't you get yourself into some trouble just trying to avoid it? You see, it transpired that the lobster she'd sent from Scotland meant a great deal more to her than we could ever have guessed. Though we had yet to discover this. When shortly after her arrival, we were sitting in the drawing room having tea. {Drawing room.} Dame Hilda: Another cup of tea, Maureen? Maureen: Oh, thank you, Hilda. I'll not say no. Dame Hilda: Oh, dear. Oh, Evadne, it seems we need some more hot water, dear. Dr. Hinge: What are you telling me for? Dame Hilda: Because you're nearest the door, dear. And it's no good edging your chair away. Dr. Hinge: Mother’s had quite enough tea. Maureen: And how, pray, might you know? Dr. Hinge: Because you’ve already had four cups and that's more than enough for anyone. Maureen: Well, if I'd known I was going to be on short rations I'd have brought a thermos with me. Dame Hilda: Oh, take no notice of her Maureen. You can have as much tea as you like, dear. Perhaps I should have borrowed a tea urn from the W.V.S. Well, go on, Evadne, go on, dear, Dr. Hinge: I'm not going. If she wants more tea, she can jolly well get it herself, she's got legs, hasn't she? Maureen: What about that woman of yours she can bring the hot water? Dame Hilda: Well… Maureen: Do you not have a little bell to ring to summon her? Dame Hilda: Oh, Maud doesn't answer bells, dear. Maureen: What do you have to do to get her in here, then? Dame Hilda: I usually pop out and ask her if she'd mind coming in. Maureen: You're far too soft with the woman. Maud! Maud! Dame Hilda: I’d be careful if I were you, Maureen. You might just get your hot water over your head. Dr. Hinge: And if you do, you didn't expect me to dry your hair for you. Maud: Excuse me, Dame ‘ilda, but I thought you might be needing a drop more ‘ot water be now, so I brought you a nice big jug full. Dame Hilda: Oh, thank you, Maud, dear. You've saved the Doctor’s poor old legs. Maud: Well, you know, Dame ‘ilda, I'm always ‘appy to be at your beck and call. So if there's anything else you want, don't ‘esitate to yell! Maureen: There you are, Hilda. I've never seen her so polite. It's no good molly coddling them. They always respond to firm treatment, they like to know whose boss, Dr. Hinge: Don't you believe it, mother, that's her idea of sarcasm. Dame Hilda: Yes. She'll probably go straight upstairs and make you an apple pie bed. Maureen: I’d sooner that, than one of her apple pies. Dame Hilda: Oh, you two really do go on. Maud's always a great help when there are guests in the house. Dr. Hinge: That's true. She makes sure they don't stay too long. Maureen: Incidentally and all joking aside, I'm not going to be able to stay very long this time. Indeed, this is very much a flying visit. Dame Hilda: You're not going before dinner? Maureen: Well, no, it's not that flying. Dr. Hinge: Then why raise our hopes? Maureen: You know, Mona, if you weren't my own daughter, I might find your sense of humour somewhat off putting. Dame Hilda: Yes. She doesn't make you feel terribly welcome, does she? But I bet she gives you something to laugh about when you get home. Maureen: No. As a matter of fact, Mona, your stepfather's been in Europe for a few weeks on business and I've arranged to meet him in London tomorrow afternoon so that we can fly off to Egypt together. So I suppose I'll have to be leaving here about midday. Dr. Hinge: Ahh. Maureen: Oh, well, you needn't look so darned happy about it. Dr. Hinge: What do you want me to do, cry? I'd run up a flag if I had one. Maureen: It's a pity you don't run up a pole and take a header off the top. Dame Hilda: Now, now, girls. You know, Maureen, as this was your first night I was planning rather a special dinner. Maureen: I see. Now you've changed your mind, have you? Dame Hilda: No, no, no. I mean, as it's now your last night it'll be even more special. Maureen: Thank you! Dame Hilda: I'm sorry, I didn't phrase that too well, did I? Dr. Hinge: I thought you phrased it splendidly. Maureen: Incidentally, I take it you got my lobster all right? Dame Hilda: Oh, you must think us terribly rude, Maureen. We haven't thanked you yet for all that lovely food you sent. I was saying to Evadne, those prawns from Pittenweem are the best we've ever had. Maureen: Oh, I am glad. And my lobster's all right then, is it? Dame Hilda: It's fine, isn't it, Evadne? Dr. Hinge: Well, to the best of my knowledge nothing untoward has happened to it. Maureen: Oh, that's a relief. I was a bit worried about it coming through the post and all. Well, when are you going to show it to me then?... Well? Dame Hilda: You'd like to see it? Maureen: Naturally. Dr. Hinge: Well, Hilda, when? Dame Hilda: In due course. When we've finished our tea. Maureen. Have another cup of tea, won't you, dear? Maud: Excuse me, Dame ‘ilda. Dame Hilda: Yes, Maud, what is it, dear? Maud: I thought you'd like to know as your doodahs just arrived. Dame Hilda: My doodah dear? Maud: Ah, Mr. Dingle's little pink doodah. Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, yes, I’m with you, Maud, Thank you. Oh, and now you're here. You might just pop out and fetch that lobster that the Doctor's mother sent us from Scotland would you, dear? Maud: Oh, of course, Dame ‘ilda, right away. I know exactly where it is. Dame Hilda: Thank you, Maud. She's a treasure, isn't she? Maureen: Aye, she ought to be buried. I'd hate to have her faffing around me all day. Dr. Hinge: The only one she ever faffs around is Hilda. Everyone else she just goads. Dame Hilda: Which only goads to show. Ha, ha, ha. Maud: Here we are, Dame ‘ilda. The lobster. Maureen: What do you think you're playing at? What on earth have you got there you silly woman? Maud: Oh, well, if that ain't a blooming lobster, madame, I'm a blithering idiot. Dr. Hinge: That puts it in a nutshell. Maureen: That certainly is not the lobster I sent from Scotland. Dame Hilda: Do you mean to tell me that you could actually recognise it? They all look alike to me? Dr. Hinge: I assume, mother, you're about to tell us that the one you sent hadn't been boiled. Maureen: Well, of course it hadn't been boiled. It wasn't a real lobster, it was porcelain! Maud: ‘eavens! Maureen: You don't mean to say that you really haven't got it? Dame Hilda: Why no, dear, it hasn't turned up yet Maureen: Good heavens above. It was extremely expensive, a little present to myself. I only had it sent here because I didn't want to lug it all around Scotland with me. A really beautiful porcelain lobster. Dr. Hinge: What on earth do you want a porcelain lobster for? Maureen: To stand on my mantelpiece with my porcelain crab! Dame Hilda: Oh, I can see that, Evadne, it would be company for it! Maud: I ‘ad a china winkle once, and a china whelk as well. ‘alfa crown the pair, they were. Maureen: Oh, shut up, woman! Well, I'm sorry, Hilda, but I'm not going without that lobster. So if you don't mind, girls, I'll leave a message at Heathrow for Monty and ask him to join me here for a few days while we all endeavour to trace it. Dame Hilda: That'll be nice, won't it, Evadne? Dr. Hinge: I'm thrilled to bits. Maureen: And when we've located it we can both fly straight out to Cairo for our trip up the Nile. And don't worry, girls, I'll keep you posted. Dame Hilda: Evadne? Dr. Hinge: Yes, dear. Dame Hilda: You'd better get your hammer and chisel out. Dr. Hinge: Uhh? Dame Hilda: We'll never get a camel through the letterbox.
Transcribed by Lorraine Taylor |
