Tom Stoppard'M' is for MoonAmong Other Things

A Play for Radio

Characters

CONSTANCE

ALFRED

Silence — a man grunts and shakes his paper — a woman flips over the pages of a book and sighs.

NB A married couple, ALFRED and CONSTANCE—middle class, childless, aged 45 and 42.

CONSTANCE: (Sighs — thinks:) Macbeth. .

(Flip)

Macedonia. .

(Flip)

Machine-gun. .

(Flip)

Magna Carta. .

(Flip)

Measles. .

(Flip)

Molluscs. . molluscs. .

ALFRED: (Grunts — thinks:) '. . the girl, wearing a red skirt and black sweater, asked the court that her name should not be continued in column five, continued in column five. .'

(Shakes paper)

CONSTANCE: (Thinks:). . Invertebrate animal. . discovered that marine varieties. .

(Slams book shut)

I think enough for tonight — I wish the print wasn't so small. . Have you seen my pills anywhere?

ALFRED: Mmmm. .

(Thinks:) ' . . "anything like it in my thirty years on the Bench", he added. "While young louts like you are roaming the streets no girl is safe from. . " '

(Impatiently) Oh. .

(Turns page)

CONSTANCE: (Thinks:) February the fifth, March the fifth, April, May, June, July, August. . six.

ALFRED: (Thinks:) 'A Smooth-as-Silk Beauty as Fast as they Come!'

CONSTANCE: (Thinks:) The Friday before last must have been the twenty-seventh, that's right, because the Gilberts came to dinner and that was a Friday because of Mrs Gilbert not eating the meat, and the Encyclopaedia always comes on the twenty-seventh, and it was just when the M to N came when I phoned Alfred at the office about what to give the Gilberts, so it must have been Friday the twenty-seventh. So last Sunday was the twenty-ninth, so today is twenty-nine plus seven makes thirty-six, so it must be the sixth, unless July has thirty-one, in which case it's the seventh, no, the fifth. Thirty days hath April, June, is it? Wait a minute, the Friday before last was the twenty-seventh. .

ALFRED: (Thinks:) 'I found her to be a smooth-as-silk beauty with the classic lines of thrust of . . '

CONSTANCE: Alfred, is it the fifth or the sixth?

ALFRED: Mmm?

(Thinks:) '. . surging to sixty mph in nine seconds. . '

CONSTANCE: Fifth?

ALFRED: Fifth what?

CONSTANCE: What's today?

ALFRED: Sunday. .

(Thinks:) '. . the handbrake a touch stiff and I'd like to see an extra ashtray for the passenger but otherwise. . '

(Up) Oh for goodness' sake — you know I hate people looking over my shoulder.

(Turns page)

CONSTANCE: (Thinks:) August the fifth, nineteen sixty-two.

(Up) Alfred, in half an hour I'll be exactly forty-two-and-a-half years old. That's a thought, isn't it?

ALFRED: Mmmm. .

(Thinks:) 'Little old grey-haired Mrs Winifred Garters wept last night as. . '

CONSTANCE: What time were you born, Alfred?

ALFRED: What?

CONSTANCE: I was born just as the clock struck half-past ten at night — what time were you born?

ALFRED: I can't remember.

CONSTANCE: Didn't anyone tell you?

ALFRED: That's what I can't remember.

(Hall clock chiming ten)

Oh, what's that? — ten? We haven't had the news today. I think there's one now, isn't there? Turn on the box — hang on, where's the Radio Times? — ah — is this this week's?

CONSTANCE: Forty-two-and-a-half, and all I've got is a headache.

ALFRED: Is this the new one? 'August five to twelve'—what's today?

CONSTANCE: Sunday.

ALFRED: No-no-no — what's — oh never mind — yes, this is it — News at five-past ten.

(Turns on TV)

‘Dial M for Murder'—oh, that might have been good.

CONSTANCE: It's an awful thing, you know. When you start worrying about the halves. I mean there's no purpose to make sense of it, is there? Every time it's half-past ten, it's another day older, and all I've done with it is to get up and stay up. Where's it all going?

(Bring in finish of ‘Dial M for Murder'—hold it and fade it low)

(Thinks:) They used to call me Millie. . my middle name was my favourite till I was — how old was I? 17? Happy Birthday Millie, it used to be. . Then I went over to Constance, it sounded more grown-up. Seventeen from forty-two. Twenty-five. A quarter of a century, constant Constance. .

(Up) If I had a choice, perhaps I'd choose what I'm doing now. I don't care about that. But I want the choice. I don't want the moon, Alfred, all I want is the possibility of an alternative, so that I know I'm doing this because I want to instead of because there's nothing else.

ALFRED: Sshssh — hang on, Constance, let me hear the News.

(Bring in opening of tape (if there is one) of the 10.05 pm News—5 August 1962)

NEWS: The News. . Marilyn Monroe, the actress, was found dead in her Los Angeles home today..

(Fade out)

ALFRED: (Fading in with ‘oh's' used as a sort of dirge — thinks:) Oh. . oh. . oh. . oh. . oh. . poor Marilyn. . poor poor thing. . What have they done?. . God, poor little thing. . She must have been so unhappy. Oh Marilyn.

CONSTANCE: She seemed so full of life, didn't she?

ALFRED: (Thinks:) Abandoned. . no love. . like a child.

CONSTANCE: Poor thing, it's awful.

ALFRED: (Thinks:) Marilyn. . you shouldn't have trusted them, they're all rotten.

CONSTANCE: Do you suppose she meant it? Oh, wasn't she lovely, I mean a lovely person, she made you feel it. Doesn't it go to show?

ALFRED: Oh, do shut up.

CONSTANCE: Alfred!

ALFRED: Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just tired. . and upset.

CONSTANCE: It's all right, Alfred.

ALFRED: Of course she meant it. By God, you've only got to use your imagination. It's such a cold shallow world she was living in. No warmth or understanding — no one understood her, she was friendless.

CONSTANCE: Do you think so?

ALFRED: Of course. Hangers-on. People didn't appreciate her. Just using her. A girl like that. It's a crime.

CONSTANCE: Fate.

ALFRED: Fate! Don't be absurd!

CONSTANCE: Please don't shout, Alfred.

ALFRED: (Wearily) Oh damn them, dammit. . Oh, let's go to bed. I'm tired.

CONSTANCE: Yes. I'm worn out — hope I'll be able to sleep.

ALFRED: I can never stay awake, and you can never get to sleep — what's the matter with you?

CONSTANCE: I don't know — can't sleep with this headache.

ALFRED: You know, you read too much, you're always complaining of eye strain and headaches, well it's no wonder.

CONSTANCE: The print's too small, really.

(Flip flip flip of pages)

ALFRED: The Universal Treasury of People, Places and Things: Illustrated. M to N. . A lot of useless knowledge.

CONSTANCE: I've got as far as Molluscs, but I'm skipping madly.

ALFRED: You forget it all anyway.

CONSTANCE: No I don't, not all of it.

ALFRED: Well, you forgot about Catholics, didn't you? There must have been something about them under C.

CONSTANCE: (Unhappy, offensive — defensive, a little desperate) Oh Alfred, please—notnow again.

ALFRED: Catholics! Catholics-don't-eat-meat-on-Fridays. Or under M-Meat,what-Catholics-don't eat-on-a-Friday. Or F-Friday,the-day-Catholics-don't-eat-meat-on. Oh my God, you could probably have found it under G-Mrs Gilbert,wife to Alfred's boss Mr Gilbert and a staunch Catholic who does not eat meat on a Friday!

(Pause.)

D is for Débâcle — that which occurs when Mrs Gilbert is offered meat by her husband's chief accountant's wife on a Friday!

CONSTANCE: (Crying) Well, I wouldn't have forgotten if you hadn't been so awful on the phone — I phoned you to ask you what to get for dinner and you wouldn't give me a chance — Alfred — you were — you behaved. .

ALFRED: Oh, don't cry — I couldn't talk to you then. . You had to call up just as Mr Gilbert, Anglican, was hovering round my neck with my monthly report. . Oh, what does it matter anyway.

(Pages turned)

M is for Money. . Universal Treasury all right. . Two guineas a volume, a guinea per letter of the alphabet. How can you get a guinea's worth out of X? Or Z?

CONSTANCE: It was a lovely birthday present.

ALFRED: Well, I'm sorry I haven't got as much money as your rich brother Stanley.

CONSTANCE: Oh, you know I didn't mean that. But it's lovely to know that every month there's another volume coming. That's the seventh, counting the A to B I got on the actual day. It's O to P this month. Oranges and Orang-utans. I don't know — it's just that the time isn't all a waste, somehow, do you know what I mean?

ALFRED: What's the capital of Mongolia?

CONSTANCE: The point isn't to know the capital of Mongolia, Alfred — the point is

to. . Alfred, at half-past ten I'll be forty-two-and-a-half years old and it's all slipping by.

ALFRED: Well, I'm blessed — do you know they haven't even got her in here.

CONSTANCE: Who?

ALFRED: 'Monroe Doctrine. . Monroe, James, President of the United States . .' Universal ruddy Treasury.

CONSTANCE: Well, they can't have everything. I remember my first ABC book — everything was so simple then. I thought that each letter only stood for the one word they gave, you know? A is for Apple, B is for Baby, C is for Cat. . M was for Moon. It was ages before I knew that M was for anything else. . like Millie. . She was 36, he said, didn't he?

ALFRED: Did he? Poor dear. . What I meant was that it needn't have happened. That's why you can't call it fate.

CONSTANCE: It's all right, I wasn't thinking.

ALFRED: It was just that she had no one to recognize her needs, you see. No one to turn to, I mean. No wonder the poor girl got desperate. Those actors — people like that — they've got no humanity, no understanding — self, self, it's such a selfish society. A girl like that, dying with a telephone in her hand— who did she have to call who would have done her any good? No one. Perhaps that's fate.

CONSTANCE: Yes, I suppose so.

ALFRED: Well, let's go up. I'll lock up — you have the bathroom first.

CONSTANCE: I wonder who she was trying to phone, though.

(Fade out — sound of CONSTANCE getting into bed — or near offer)

Oooooh, bed. I feel quite worn out.

ALFRED: You got up too early again.

CONSTANCE: I couldn't drop off once I woke up. It's getting very tiresome.

ALFRED: Don't those pills work?

CONSTANCE: I suppose they must help. I think I'll take an extra one tonight.

ALFRED: Yes, I should.

CONSTANCE: Oh — Alfred — I forgot my glass of water. Do you mind, while you're still up.

ALFRED: Oh, gosh, where is it?

CONSTANCE: On the wash-stand.

(Thinks:) Oh God, if I'd been in her place I would have eaten the bloody meat and gone to confession. . Bitch. . I shouldn't have phoned Alfred at the office, though.

ALFRED: Here you are. Got the pills?

(Clock chiming half past ten — ALFRED getting into bed)

CONSTANCE: (Thinks:) Half-past ten, August the fifth, nineteen sixty-two. Well — Cheers!

(Gulps pill and drink)

Happy anniversary, Millie.

(Puts glass down)

ALFRED: Should I turn the light off?

CONSTANCE: Yes.

(Click)

(Thinks:) Maple tree. . Mozambique. . Mandragora. . Marzipan. . Mother. .

Moon. . Melon. . Menopause. . Mongolia. .

ALFRED: (Thinks:) Marilyn. . don't worry, I'm glad you phoned. . Don't be unhappy, love, tell me all about it and I'm sure I'll think of something. . Do you feel better already? — Well, it's nice to have someone you know you can count on any time, isn't it?. . Don't cry, don't cry any more. . I'll make it all right. .

(Up — sigh)

Poor old thing. .

CONSTANCE: Oh, you mustn't worry about me, Alfred, I'll be all right. .

(Thinks:) Marshmallow. . Mickey Mouse. . Marriage. . Moravia. . Mule. .

Market. . Mumps. .