Lathom Glitterati

Script - Rehearsal Draft

April 2002

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CONTENTS FIRST HALF ........................................................................................................................................ 3 SPREAD A LITTLE HAPPINESS ...................................................................................................... 3 THE STATELY HOMES OF ENGLAND ........................................................................................... 4 OTHER PEOPLE’S BABIES ............................................................................................................... 7 AND HER MOTHER CAME TOO ..................................................................................................... 9 POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL ............................................................... Error! Bookmark not defined. YOUR KING AND COUNTRY ........................................................................................................ 12 KEEP THE HOME FIRES BURNING .............................................................................................. 13 WET PAINT ....................................................................................................................................... 15 End of WET PAINT ........................................................................................................................... 18 IRISH FOLK SONG ........................................................................................................................... 21 THE WAY YOU LOOK AT IT ......................................................................................................... 22 End of THE WAY YOU LOOK AT IT .............................................................................................. 26 THEY DIDN’T BELIEVE ME .......................................................................................................... 26 SECOND HALF ................................................................................................................................. 27 TOUJOURS L’AMOUR ON THE COTE D’AZUR ......................................................................... 27 THIS IS A CHANGING WORLD ...................................................... Error! Bookmark not defined. TWENTY HOUSES IN A ROW ........................................................................................................ 31 End of TWENTY HOUSES IN A ROW ............................................................................................ 39 IF LOVE WERE ALL ........................................................................................................................ 39 SPREAD A LITTLE HAPPINESS .................................................................................................... 44

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FIRST HALF OPENING [Background twenties music fades … ADRIAN SPREAD A LITTLE HAPPINESS I’ve got a creed For every need So perfect that it must succeed I’ll set it down for you to read So please Take heed Keep out the gloom Let in the sun That’s my advice to everyone It’s only once we pass this way So day by day Even when the darkest clouds are in the sky You mustn’t sigh And you mustn’t cry Just spread a little happiness as you go by Please try What’s the use of worrying and feeling blue? When days are long Keep on smiling through And spread a little happiness till dreams come true Surely you’ll to wise to make the best of every blues day Don’t you realise you’ll find next Monday or next Tuesday Your golden shoes day Even when the darkest clouds are in the sky You mustn’t sigh And you mustn’t cry

Just spread a little happiness as you go by!

JOHN It is 1920, Britain has been irrevocably changed by the Great War. Quite apart from

the loss of nearly a million of her young men in the fighting, the war has changed the social and economic situation forever. The comradeship of the trenches has weakened the barriers between the classes and the invaluable work of British women on the home front has made early steps towards female emancipation.

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Just being another decade on a timeline is not good enough for the 1920s. When its brief turn comes, it is the biggest, the loudest, and the brightest decade before or since. A calamity gives it birth, and a calamity ends it. The rich are out to play – to raise their spirits - and their skirts - dress hemlines race upward from the ankles to the knees. Girls and young women cake makeup on themselves. A generation aches to reverberate to the sound of the Charleston, and the Black Bottom – the Roaring Twenties are born … The scandalous sophisticates that are the Lathom Glitterati are part of that change – and rejoice here in their Succes de Scandale. The young, slim, future stars - Ivor Novello, and Noel Coward, and two comfortably rounded mature performers Mrs. Patrick Campbell and Olga Lynn plus a host of family and guests from near and far are poised to entertain an audience, here, where we are seated now. Arriving by train to Liverpool they are brought from their rooms at the Adelphi Hotel or taken to stay at Blythe Hall itself by Rolls, Studebaker and Chrysler cars. Back stage the women straighten their clothes, make-up and hair, the men brush their evening jackets and tighten their black ties. Mrs. Campbell fusses over one of her dogs (Sally or Georgina – “Worth a £100 she once remarked”) and a young Oxford undergraduate, Gerald Gardiner, desperate to be an actor is reading his lines unaware that his father is determined that his son should go into law – a decision that assures his destiny as a future Lord Chancellor of England.

Mrs. Margaret Cooper, is playing a just-tuned piano and after the inaugural hush as the curtains open the Lathom Glitterati begin their show.

Tonight nearly 80 years on, the boards are trod once more and under the same proscenium arch our artistes tell the story of Ned the 3rd Earl of Lathom…

ADRIAN THE STATELY HOMES OF ENGLAND Lord Elderley, Lord Borrowmere, Lord Sickert and Lord Camp, With every virtue, every grace, Ah what avails the sceptred race. Here you see - the four of us Eldest sons that must succeed. We know how Caesar conquered Gaul And how to whack a cricket ball; Apart from this our education lacks coordination Though we’re young and tentative And rather rip-representative Scions of a noble breed, We are the products of those homes serene and stately Which only lately Seem to have run to seed

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The Stately Homes of England How beautifully they stand To prove the upper classes Have still the upper hand Though the fact that they have to be rebuilt And frequently mortgaged to the hilt Is inclined to take the gilt Off the gingerbread And certainly damps the fun Of the eldest son But still we won’t be beaten, We’ll scrimp and scrape and save The playing fields of Eton Have made us frightfully brave And though if the Van Dycks have to go And we pawn the Bechstein Grand We’ll stand By the Stately Homes of England Here you see The pick of us You may be heartily sick of us Still with sense We’re all imbued Our homes command extensive views And with assistance from the Jews We have been able to dispose of Rows and rows and rows of Gainsboroughs and Lawrences Some sporting prints of Aunt Florences Some of which were rather rude Although we sometimes flaunt our family conventions Our good intentions Mustn’t be misconstrued The Stately Homes of England We proudly represent We only keep them up for Americans to rent Though the pipes that supply the bathroom burst And the lavatory makes you fear the worst It was used by Charles the First Quite informally And later by George the Fourth On a journey north The State Apartments keep their Historical renown It’s wiser not to sleep there In case they tumble down

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But still if they ever catch on fire Which, with any luck they might We’ll fight For the Stately Homes of England The Stately Homes of England Though rather in the lurch Provide a lot of chances For Psychical Research There’s a ghost of a crazy younger son Who murdered in 1351 An extremely rowdy nun Who resented it And people who come to call Meet her in the hall The baby in the guest wing Who crouches by the grate Was walled up in the west wing In 1428 If anyone spots the Queen of Scots In a hand-embroidered shroud We’re proud Of the Stately Homes of England JOHN In the mid 1800s - an earlier age of grace - Ned’s forbears are enjoying the

Palladian splendour and presence of their properties - Leoni’s, Lathom House - an outstanding aristocratic home with its balanced 2 ½ windowed storeys, porticoes, flying staircases, colonnades and utility wings. A magnificent aristocratic setting for the activities of the theatrical, Bootle-Wilbraham family. A 93 year dynasty that begins with the 1st Earl, as one of Queen Victoria’s favourite Lord Chamberlains, and ends with a playwright who curses the Lord Chamberlain’s very existence.

Ned’s mother is Wilma Pleydell-Bouverie, the daughter of William the 5th Earl of Radnor and Helen Matilda Chaplin. She marries the 2nd Earl of Lathom in 1889 The family know the 2nd Earl as Eddy and Wilma as ‘Queenie’ or ‘Q’ Her mother explains …

CAROLINE [Wearing a ‘fur’ wrap

So pretty the baby was, but smaller than the others, weighing only six or seven pounds. My Queen of Hearts - was christened ‘Wilma’ – the first syllables of William and Matilda.

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JOHN Their closeness proves to be a significant factor in Ned’s life. The marriage takes place only months after the loss of Randal, Eddy’s brother. The birth of their first daughter Helen (called Nell) in July 1890, is followed by Barbara, Edward (known as Ned), Margaret who tragically dies at the age of three of Typhoid fever, and later Rosemary. Ned, the only son of the 2nd Earl – grows up with his sisters at Lathom House. In her memoirs his grandmother Helen, Countess of Radnor tells a story showing the difference in temperament between her two eldest grandsons - Lords Folkestone and Lathom.

CAROLINE When little boys, they were playing together one day with a lot of wooden animals,

trees, houses, a Noah’s Ark and bricks which were all kept in a large Norwegian wooden box together. The big box lay empty on the floor, and Ned – being rather bored with the game – said, “Now Willie we will play another game. This (pointing the box) is your ‘barf,’ and this (holding up the lid of the box on which were the toys) is the hot water!” – and he proceeded to pour all the animals and bricks into the box. An indignant voice was immediately heard, saying, “That is not my ‘barf,’ and I want my ‘baa-lambs’!

JOHN Ned’s nursery fears are expressed much later in one of the more successful of his

plays “Fear,” a tense psychological drama that perhaps reveals more than any other, the man himself.

EMMA But I have been frightened - frightened of being frightened. I remember as a small

boy - waiting for the nights, waiting till my mother said, “Trot along,” And then making every excuse I could - not to go. I was afraid of the dark! …

But I was even more frightened of what my nurse would say if she knew, and so I used to lie trembling underneath the bedclothes. Silly, wasn't it? Trembling and waiting for something to happen - something that never did happen.”

JOHN In common with all infant aristocracy the baby Ned and his sisters play and

hopefully obey, their nurse… NANCY [ Piano introduction starts quietly over JOHN’s last lines … ADRIAN OTHER PEOPLE’S BABIES Babies, it’s a gift my dear And I should say I know For I’ve been pushing prams about For forty years or so Thirty seven babies Or is it thirty nine? No, I’m wrong, it’s thirty-six But none of them was mine Other people’s babies That’s my life

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Mother to dozens And nobody’s wife Other people’s babies Cots and prams Such little terrors Such little lambs But then of course it isn’t everyone can say They used to bath the Honourable Hay Lord James Montague Sir Richard Twistle Thynnes Captain Carlett and the Ramrod twins Other people’s babies That’s my life Mother to dozens and nobody’s wife Isn’t he a pet my dear The spit of Lady Stoop? Looks a perfect picture Yes, I nursed him through the croop But I shall get my notice Just as soon as he can crawl It’s a funny thing to think He won’t remember me at all Other people’s babies That’s my life Mother to dozens And nobody’s wife Forty years of colic Fits and frights Very long days, dear, And very short nights But then of course it isn’t everyone can say They used to bath the Honourable Hay Lord Charles Cobley had a present from the king And now they tell me He’s a bright young thing. Other people’s babies That’s my life Mother to dozens And nobody’s wife. Sixty-one today Ought to be a granny Sixty-one today

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And nothing but a nanny There, ducky, there The likes of us don’t care Don’t cry. Oh my Other people’s babies Other people’s babies That’s my life Mother to dozens And nobody’s wife But then of course it isn’t everyone cansay They used to bath the Honourable Hay Lady Lettice what was dropped into the pond And now cook tells me she’s a well known blonde Other people’s babies That’s my life Mother to dozens And nobody’s wife. [Piano continues and fades out over JOHN’s first line … JOHN The children have a variety of governesses including a shy young Fraulein.

Lathom House is led by Wilma, Ned’s mother, a strong, handsome and passionate woman with a love for the theatre - its music and its drama. As a child she plays in her mother’s fledgling orchestra - the ‘Ladies String Band.’ It gains fame in aristocratic and royal circles and performs at the major halls in London and the provinces. Wilma and her mother are inseparable throughout her life. Wilma plays roles in numerous private theatricals – Her mother comments on her talents on her return to Folkestone from Venice in 1906…

CAROLINE I was met there by Queenie … and others who were to act in the play, ‘Diplomacy,’ the next day. A large gathering of friends came down to see the performance and it was a great success. Queenie as ‘Zika’ was admirable. She looked splendid, and I felt as proud as a peacock of her. That sounds partial like a mother, I know, but she really is an excellent actress, and indeed would have made a great actress, if she had chosen to take it up professionally.

ADRIAN AND HER MOTHER CAME TOO My car will meet her And her mother comes too It’s a two seater Still her mother comes too! At Ciro’s when I am free At dinner supper or tea She loves to sit on my knee

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And her mother does too We buy her trousseau And her mother comes too Asked not to do so Still her mother comes too She simply can’t take a snub I go and sulk at the club Then have a bath and a rub And her mother comes too I seem to be the victim of a cruel jest It dogs my footsteps with the girl I love the best She’s just the sweetest thing that I have ever known But still we never get the chance to be alone. We lunch at Maxim’s And her mother comes too How large a snack seems When her mother comes too And when they’re visiting me We finish afternoon tea She loves to sit on my knee And her mother does too To golf we started And her mother came too Three bags I carted When her mother came too She fainted just off the tee My darling whispered to me Jack dear, at last we are free But her mother came too. JOHN Wilma has grown up with all the benefits of high social position. During her busy

social round in London she develops friendship with the Royal family and especially Edward VII’s daughters, Victoria, Louise and Maud. During her marriage she spends time with her mother, in musical, theatrical and social engagements. Wilma and the 2nd Earl entertain at Lathom. Ned’s early years at Lathom House ring to the sound of guests, flushed with success at their weekend shoots, relaxing, wining and dining at fancy dress dinners and thriving on private theatricals.

Helen Radnor writes…

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CAROLINE We got home (from Venice) on the 22nd and on November 25 both Bertha and I rushed off to Lathom for private theatricals in which Queenie, Clare Knowles, Muriel Alston, Mrs. Gordon Clark, Mr. E. Norwood, Mr. A (“Bobbie”) Ellis and Mr. Pilkington were taking part. On this occasion I remember one of the pieces played was “Barbara,” a very touching story in which it was impossible to prevent the tears from coming - even the old cello player in the orchestra was obliged to use his handkerchief more than once – and turning to my grandson Ned (aged six) who was sitting next to me I said, “It’s dreadfully touching isn’t it Ned? “Yes Granny,” was his reply, “But I knew what I had to bear!” (Bless his heart! – he had been to the rehearsals.)

JOHN Wilma enjoys both her young family and the social whirl of her privileged existence but the photographs of the time reveal a slightly detached lady looking away from the camera - as if looking for or escaping from something…

NANCY [ Piano introduction starts quietly over JOHN’s last lines … ADRIAN SHE WAS ONLY A BIRD IN A GILDED CAGE [Piano continues and fades out over JOHN’s first line … JOHN Ned’s education at home is coming to an end and he is packed off to a preparatory

school at Folkestone and then Eastbourne. Even at the age of eight the sign of his future passions are reported to his parents.

EMMA Too much talking in his dormitory.” But good at English, French – Bon élève! his

tutor exclaims - and Music – (drama was not on the curriculum!) JOHN At home in the holidays he thrives on the space and freedom of the Lathom Estate

and the companionship of his family. His close lifelong friendship with his sisters, especially Barbara grows and flourishes. Their happy exploits are occasions that Barbara records with her camera. Photographs from her album show the view from the schoolroom window, Ned and Barbara playing in the grounds of the house with their carers, relatives and friends. Whether at the seaside, in London, at Longford Castle with their grandmother or in the grounds of their Lathom home, teasing Wilma, their mother, or on a seesaw, tricycle, playing with Vida the dog, riding Peppermint the pony or on pony and trap their happiness is clear …

NANCY [Plays a reprise of Spread a Little Happiness on the piano … it dies away … JOHN Darkness falls … on March 16th, 1910 Helen Radnor writes about news of Eddy the

2nd Earl of Lathom … CAROLINE We were very shocked to hear that Lathom had been taken ill at sea, and a little

later, another message came to say that he had passed away. This was a terrible blow to us all. Three days later my dear daughter and her son Ned went to Lathom, and, on the Sunday, I took Nell and Barbara to a beautiful Memorial service for their father, at St. Paul’s, Knightsbridge, one of the hymns being my setting of

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“God of the living,” which the choir sang very sweetly. This was my 64th birthday – a very sad one. Johnnie Wingfield, who had been travelling with Eddy, came to see me the next day, to tell me about Eddy’s illness and of his “very peaceful” end.

On April 7th I left London and went down to Cliff House, Folkestone, which was lent to be at the time by Jac - my son Lord Folkestone – taking Ned Lathom and his sister Barbara with me. Two days later ‘Q’ who was badly in need of a change, came down with Rosemary and their two dogs, one an enormous Dane the other a tiny Pekinese! We had a quiet, peaceful time together there, sitting out a good deal in the sunshine and the children and the dogs simply loved playing about in the garden.

After preparatory school Ned attends Eton College and Christ Church, Oxford – but the Great War calls – and on 11th November 1915 Ned leaves for France with the Lancashire Hussars Yeomanry to face the uncertainty of survival. That ironic mixture of boredom and terror that was the lot of those standing in the grim mire of Mons, Ypres and The Somme.

ADRIAN YOUR KING AND COUNTRY We’ve watched you playing cricket And every kind of game At cricket, golf and polo You men have made your name But now your country calls you To play your part in war And no matter what befalls you We shall love you all the more So come and join the forces As your fathers did before. Oh we don’t want to lose you But we think you ought to go For your king and your country Both need you so. We shall want you and miss you But with all our might and main We shall cheer you, thank you, kiss you When you come back again. JOHN Ned is changed by his wartime in France. His sensitive concern for his fellow man

shines through – not a great military leader perhaps and often naïve to a dangerous degree, but a great human being and friend to his men. Despite his own fears - providing concern, care and when possible luxuries from home - for his troops.

Mr. Blundell famously writes in the Ormskirk Advertiser:

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EMMA Will you allow one who knew Lord Lathom in his earlier days to record an impression of him which is perhaps different from that formed by those who only knew him as a writer of plays and an amateur in theatrical enterprises? Many of his older friends will prefer to remember him as a young man, fresh from Eton, with an enormous capacity for enjoyment and a gift for amusing himself and others in the simplest ways. Some, too, will not forget his brief military career. He was never an accomplished soldier, but all his brother officers agree that he was an excellent good comrade. His men liked him because he was so perfectly good-natured and so perfectly natural. When he fell of his horse, which he did at the slightest provocation, he was so good tempered and so humble over his lack of skill that officers and men alike laughed with him. There never was a subaltern more ready to swap turns of duty to suit the convenience of others, and his equal as a mess president under difficult conditions has never been found. I for one shall remember him as a gay and friendly companion; I shall think of him singing comic songs to my mother to distract her attention when the squadron was ordered overseas, falling off “Strong John” and picking himself up with unabated good humour, or reading aloud the plays, neither advanced nor controversial, which he had composed in some squalid billet behind the line. I take my leave of him in a village “somewhere in France” where he celebrated his 21st birthday.

JOHN Helen Radnor adds in January 1916 …

CAROLINE My grandson Ned was in the thick of things at this time, and he wrote to his mother while we were in Bath to say that. He was riding around on a White horse one day, to show his NCO where the German lines were, when a shell burst seventy yards off! No doubt aimed at his horse!

ADRIAN KEEP THE HOME FIRES BURNING They were summoned from the hillside They were called in from the glen And the country found them willing At the stirring call for men Let no tears add to their hardship As the soldiers pass along And although your heart is breaking Make it sing this cheery song Keep the home fires burning While your hearts are yearning Though your lads are from away They dream of home. There’s a silver lining Through the dark cloud shining Turn the dark cloud inside out Till the boys come home.

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JOHN After the War and a spell as ADC to the Governor of Bombay, Lord Willingdon,

He returns home eager to play his part as the Earl and ensure that all of his duties are done. He throws himself into his local commitments but more significantly he spends increasing amounts of time in London and becomes part of the glitterati known as the ‘Bright Young Things’ based for a short time at ‘The Ivy’ restaurant – a coterie of young hedonists out for a good time at any cost. The parties were lavish and often sexual affairs with money no object as Ned thirsted for the creative company and love of the rising stars of the Twenties.

His playwriting, started in the trenches, becomes an obsession encouraged by Noel Coward, Ivor Novello, Marie Tempest and others.

In the preface to his first book of plays he says,

EMMA I beg to present for your kind approval three plays one about a woman who was unmoral, one about a man who had no morals at all, and the third about a woman who was obsessed with morals, and I daresay that all three of them lived and died in very much the same way as you and I will live and die. But we leave the two women at a moment of their lives when they were quite unrepentant and ready to start all over again. “Wet Paint” was received very kindly on a Sunday night (in London), and I may be pardoned if I went to bed a happy man. But my awakening was rude. I was interviewed the next morning at an unduly early hour, as it seemed to me by three separate gentlemen who wished to know how I had taken my failure. This play was frankly meant to amuse - and not to shock - as some people seemed to think. The use of certain words in it was objected to on the grounds of taste. These words, I maintain, are used frequently, not only in the Bible and by Shakespeare, but also in some of the greatest houses in the land, as well as in the humblest homes.

JOHN Banned by the Lord Chamberlain, largely because of its language – Wet Paint is a

story built on the premise that for social success, those with ‘a social position’ need money and those with money need ‘a social position.’ Florence freely admits she is a tart and has gained her wealth as the mistress of a rich well-married London financier Arthur Grimm, Elsie has breeding and a social position but is genteel poor and forever short of funds especially after playing cards. What develops is a symbiotic relationship whereby Elsie provides the social contacts and Florence stumps up the cash. But there is a threat on the horizon – Arthur’s wife is fully aware of what is going on with Florence and threatens divorce – a turn of events that is totally unacceptable to Arthur the financier. Here at the start of the play - after a further doling out of cash - we hear Florence discussing with Elsie a plan to put matters right and secure her own financial future…

NANCY [Piano piece to open play extract

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PLAY EXTRACT WET PAINT [EMMA reads FLORENCE, CAROLINE reads ELSIE and John reads SHOUT

FLORENCE: (laughs): You old fraud. How much is it this time?

ELSIE: I'm not an old fraud - and it's only fifty pounds, and that's only because – I revoked.

FLORENCE: I don't want to know why.

ELSIE: But I insist. (Very dignified.) And this time I shall pay you back.

FLORENCE: That doesn't matter. But what does is - are you fond enough of me to stand by me if there's a row?

ELSIE: A row!

FLORENCE: A bust up. A hell of a one.

ELSIE: Good God! But there mustn't be.

FLORENCE: I know that. But that won't prevent it.

ELSIE: Surely there must be ways?

FLORENCE: Maybe, yes. Maybe, no. Would you stand by me?

ELSIE: Surely you know, Florence dear, that, by now …

FLORENCE: That you burned your boats long ago. That you've got to …

ELSIE: (smiles): Well, if you like to put it in that funny way.

FLORENCE: Yes, I prefer it - and you shall have a cheque tonight.

ELSIE: Thanks, dear - but that's not why …

FLORENCE: Oh no! – I knew that. That wouldn't make a hap'orth of difference. That's quite all right.

ELSIE: Well?

FLORENCE: Oh yes! I haven't told you yet.

ELSIE: (very interested): No.

FLORENCF: Arthur Grimm's wife is going to divorce him.

ELSIE: (startled): The fool! (Very innocently.) But I don't see what that's got to do with you

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FLORENCE: Don't you?

ELSIE: No, I don't. You. You don’t – you can’t – you …

FLORENCE: I wonder.

ELSIE: (a little alarmed): What?

FLORENCE: Do you mean to tell me - Elsie Kerandal quite seriously - that you haven't known all these years?

ELSIE: Don't - I don't know anything.

FLORENCE: You mean - you don't want to know anything. It's all right as long as you don't know - anything. That if you did know anything, perhaps you wouldn't know me. Is that it? (She takes a cigarette.)

ELSIE: I don't know anything. I don’t want to know. I never have.

FLORENCE: Well, then you're going to - now. In good old English, dear. I'm a tart. I always have been a tart. I was brought up to be one. And I've done it very successfully.

ELSIE: Florence!

FLORENCE: And what's more, I like being one. It suits me. I came from nothing and I've got nearly everything I want by it - at least nearly everything.

ELSIE: Yes, dear. But why that word? Couldn't you manage something in French? It would be so much more easy.

FLORENCE: I don't see anything wrong with the word. I was never squeamish. It doesn't frighten me in the least.

ELSIE: No, dear. No, dear. But then seriously you have the courage of your convictions.

FLORENCE: Yes. But up till now I haven't been convicted. And that is why I have been successful. But that brings us back to Arthur Grimm and his old bitch of a wife - I beg your pardon - Mrs. - Arthur - Grimm. (She laughs.)

ELSIE: Oh well.

FLORENCE: (waves her aside): Arthur Grimm's kept me for the last five years. I think that on the whole he has done it very well. Don't you? I've got nothing to complain about but his old - I beg your pardon - Mrs. – Arthur - Grimm is going to divorce him - so he told me over the phone.

ELSIE: Over the phone! What bad taste.

FLORENCE: From a public call office - one penny at a time - she's going to divorce - that's one, and the other - I'm going to be the scapegoat. As if I'd done anything!

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ELSIE: (throws her eyes to heaven): Of course not, dear. Do you mind if I open the window, though? It's getting rather warm in here.

FLORENCE: (laughs): No. Don't get up. I'll do it. (She looks out of the window.) Have you ever noticed how clean the streets look at night? Perhaps they are in comparison to some of our lives? And yet - that's what I came from. Poor old Elsie. What a shame. But you needn't know me when the crash comes. I'll forgive you - and wink at you when no one's looking.

ELSIE: (shudders): When the crash comes I've spent my whole life in trying to avoid things like that I've been very unsuccessful so far.

FLORENCE: As a matter of fact - if I'm clever - I say if I'm clever - there ain't going to be no crash.

ELSIE: Oh! Do be clever - for everyone's sake. I do hate people saying unkind things about my friends - especially when one has to agree.

FLORENCE: As if it mattered what people said nowadays. As long as they still come to one's house.

ELSIE: And how are you going to be clever?

FLORENCE: I'm going to get married. Look at them. They're all doing it nowadays - it's very fashionable, and it will establish me.

ELSIE: Married?

FLORENCE: I'm going to be respectable and married - married and well - perhaps not married and respectable - that's different - that will be my own affair. I want to be married - so I'm going to be married. Anyway I want a change. Besides, who knows, dear, I might have fallen in love! (She laughs.) Me - in love - you never know. I might be.

ELSIE: You in love?

FLORENCE: I shouldn't take that too seriously - but I might be - a passing fancy, perhaps. (She laughs.)

ELSIE: But who to?

[FLORENCE shrugs her shoulders

Not to Arthur?

FLORENCE: (in scorn): Arthur! I should say not. Where would the change be? Besides, you need have no illusions about that. Arthur would rather die than marry me. Marrying his own cast-off mistress, would be almost incest.

ELSIE: But he's very fond of you. He loves you?

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FLORENCE: Ye - es. But his “love” is not the kind that leads to marriage. His is a more exciting brand. He wants a wife and a mistress as well - to work off excess profits on. No, he would never marry me. And I would certainly never marry him even if he wanted me to. He knows too much about me. Of course, it would all be very romantic if he did. But it would also be very stale and slightly ridiculous. It would certainly make me laugh if I saw someone else doing it. And I think Arthur would laugh, too - unless I suggested it - I don't think he'd laugh then. But if we both laughed - (She shrugs her shoulders.) Nothing destroys romance quite as quickly.

ELSIE: Then, who?

FLORENCE: Isn't that sufficient? Not to Arthur. He's too hard. Besides - he might still want a mistress. Oh! No, I'm not such a fool. I'd never get away from him. And I've always got to be free - free always. I'm a mistress - not a wife - except for the time being.

ELSIE: Well, then who is it?

FLORENCE: Somebody I rather like - I'm tired of Arthur for the moment. - Only for the moment - maybe. And Arthur is going to go back to his wife.

ELSIE: Really?

FLORENCE: (sweetly): No. Not really - only it's going to look like that. And it will satisfy her and give me time - to look round.

ELSIE: I wonder how Arthur takes it?

FLORENCE: He doesn't know yet.

ELSIE: But then?

FLORENCE: That's why I'm not interested in chit-chat today. I'm going to tell him this evening.

ELSIE: Then you want me to go? Do you mind if I have a cigarette?

FLORENCE: No - here. (She gives her one.) Take your time.

ELSIE: I should love to be there.

FLORENCE: I'm sure, dear - you can always have another cigarette - but even so - you won't be there.

ELSIE: I was forgetting - who did you say you were going to marry? I'm so thrilled.

[Shout comes in. Quick - who was it?

SHOUT: Mr. Maurice Benn, Madame. (Lights Stage Left fade ….)

NANCY [Piano piece to close play extract End of WET PAINT

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JOHN The outcome of this sordid tale is as one might expect – the marriage idea is a disaster – after six months of lacklustre, uncommitted marriage (the length of time agreed with Arthur for the marriage arrangement to put his wife off the scent) – her legal but ‘temporary’ husband leaves and at a planned supper held after six months of absence - Arthur the financier makes it clear that absence for him has ‘made the heart grow colder’ and he leaves – Florence with typical aplomb shrugs her shoulders draws breath –– and announces to Elsie

EMMA We are off to Deauville to find another man! NANCY [Piano - sharp chord followed by piece that fades … JOHN Ned’s closeness to a small group of noted theatre stars leads him to make generous

offers of accommodation – that are not always well-received by those employees who are asked to vacate. Mrs. Pat Campbell is given a lease of the Estate Manager’s house - Ashfields, in Hall Lane – she writes ….

EMMA On my cottage is a yellow jasmine, and a white jasmine, and two pear trees, that were heavy with fruit when I came here in the autumn. And then there are the privet hedges and the bird's nests – what singing there will be in the Spring! Beautiful hills can be seen far away on the left; on the right, many fields and ploughmen with their horses and dogs - their homes and farms in the distance - and crows and sea gulls feeding as the earth is turned over. And rooks talk like mad in the morning - and at nine o’clock little feet and children's voices hurrying to school – a small part of my garden and a hedge separating me from the road where they pass. At the back of my cottage, the country road, and smithy and duck pond - and in the front end of my wood, an old Manor, empty now, where I saw the picture, now at Blythe Hall, the Earl of Lathom's new home, of Mrs Wilbraham-Bootle, which makes you say Mr Romney was the greatest of portrait painters. So long as that picture exists, you can meet and know intimately Mrs. Wilbraham Bootle, and the best work of a great master. It is not too quiet here: near by is the beautiful home of the young Lord Lathom: he and his sister come up sometimes from London, and have wonderfully gay parties.

JOHN Later she writes to George Bernard Shaw … EMMA Yes I still have my cottage at Ormskirk, with its lovely garden. I have it on a 20

years lease. Ned Lathom is no longer my landlord, the local grocer is. I have an excellent cook housekeeper, a gardener with one leg and four fingers - blown up in France - I was persuaded by the local clergyman to take him - for my sins!

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JOHN Whatever the Lathom Glitterati want is provided. Ned’s legendary generosity is often abused and his feelings badly bruised … but many owe him a great debt for providing the money and contacts needed to lift their careers. There is no doubt that Ned helps Noel Coward to go to America in 1921 to discover the fast-paced American dramas that were to set the English Theatre alight on his return.

From August of 1923 to the New Year of 1924 - Ned is at Davos in Switzerland receiving treatment for his TB. Noel Coward says, about his stay with Ned:

CAROLINE Ned looked better, but he still had coughing-fits from time to time. He managed, as usual, to be amazingly luxurious and had surrounded himself with books, cushions and large rich sweets which, I am sure, were bad for him. I stayed there for three weeks with Barbara and him alone before anyone else arrived. The Christmas season had not yet begun, and the only other occupants of the hotel were T.B. patients, all in various stages of the disease. It was a strange life, gay in the evenings, when everyone made an effort to dress, dine in the restaurant and dance afterwards in the bar. During the days, of course, everybody had cures and treatments to undergo, and the whole hotel seemed dead and empty. Ned, who had always been badly stage-struck, had financed Charlot's last revue A to Z, and still appeared to be avid for punishment. He made me play to him all the songs I had written, and when he realised that there were enough comparatively good ones to make up a score, he wired to Charlot commanding him to come out immediately. I was thrilled at the thought of doing a whole revue, but scared that Charlot, when he arrived, might not be quite as eager and appreciative as Ned. However, when he did arrive in due course he was expansive and benign, and a series of cigar-laden conferences ensued, during which London Calling was born. I worked on sketches in the mornings, waking early when the clouds were still veiling the mountains, submitted them to Ned and Charlot in the afternoons, and within the space of a few days the whole plan of the show was roughly laid out. It was to be produced the following autumn, with Gertrude Lawrence, Maisie Gay, a comedienne as yet undecided, and myself. Charlot went back to England, seemingly pleased with everything, and left Ned and Barbara and me in a ferment of excitement. Christmas pounced on Davos and everything lit up. Trainloads of strange people arrived daily. A whole extra wing of the hotel was thrown open. The Kurhaus, down in the village, surprisingly produced a highly decorated bar and a jazz band. The whole place became, with abrupt thoroughness, a resort. Ned's Christmas guests, it is unnecessary to remark, were far and away the star turn of the hotel. In order of appearance, rather than precedence, they consisted of. Clifton Webb, Mrs. Fred (Teddie) Thompson, Gladys Cooper, Dick Wyndham, Edward Molyneux, Bobbie Howard, Dickie Gordon, Elsa Maxwell and Maxine Elliott.

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JOHN Thanks to Ned, Coward’s sketches and songs were at last being taken seriously

… although some of the nearly 500 that were written had more than a dash of wry humour …

ADRIAN IRISH FOLK SONG When first I was courting sweet Rosie O’Grady Sweet Rosie O’Grady she whispered to me Sure you shouldn’t be after seducing a lady Before she’s had time to sit down to her tea With a heigh-ho, a top of the morning , begorrah and fiddle-de-dee. Our honeymoon started so blithely and gaily But dreams I was dreamin were suddenly wrecked For she broke me front tooth with her father’s sheelalee Which wasn’t what I had been led to expect With a heigh-ho Mmm, perhaps a begorrah And quite possibly fiddle-de-dee. Her cheeks were so soft and her eyes were so trusting Oh, me darlin, she whispered Your breath is disgustin Which wasn’t at all what I hoped she would say With a heigh-ho Several begorrahs And most certainly fiddle-de-dee JOHN Like his contemporaries, Ned was always attempting to push back the boundaries of

what was acceptable on the English stage. He was reasoned but fairly vitriolic in his criticism of the Censor and in the preface to his two books of published plays, he asserts his right to write about life as he sees it.

EMMA The Censor is the unfortunate gentleman who, with his colleagues, has to read

every play that is due to be produced, and has to decide, on reading them, whether they will make the public blush or not. Very often, when he decides that a play will not be good for an audience, the author and the would-be producer rush into print and say exactly what they think of him - that is far as the editor will allow them. This, the Lord Chamberlain, who is the gentleman in question, has to bear smilingly and blandly. But then he is an Olympian. His word is final. And so he can afford to be serene. Unluckily for myself, on two occasions so far I have come up against him. And on each occasion, he has refused either to see me or discuss the play, or any possible alteration in the play. Immediately, managers, the press, agents and friends have all rushed to my side and said, “How disgraceful,” … “How badly you have been treated,” “He ought to be done away with,” and I have been supposed to have said this about him and that about him, and to have called aloud in the name

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of my Grandfather. As a matter of fact, I did none of these things. What I said in the privacy of my own house, does not concern anybody else. But even what I said in that privacy was exceedingly mild.

JOHN Of his play ‘The Way You Look At It’ Ned says, CAROLINE I took the theme of a man who was kept by a woman who loved him - an offensive

theme, but true, because it happens not once but hundreds of times, and in every grade of life. The nursemaid pays for her guardsman, and the cook will bribe the policeman with her cooking. Today women are emancipated. Surely they have equal rights in the matter of keeping? Personally I find it no more immoral for a woman to keep a man than it is for a man to keep a woman. I could have made the woman a great deal older than she was and turned the play into a comedy, for nothing is so ludicrous - or so distasteful - as an old woman paying for a young lover. Because of the incongruity, perhaps the audience would have laughed, and then I should have been forgiven, but I preferred to tell my story on natural lines.

JOHN Bobby, is being kept by an older woman, Sybil. The play makes the case for this

arrangement. For the young man it provides long sought for financial security and for the older woman the love and companionship of a younger man. Inevitably matters run their course. The young man meets his true love and is forced to choose between keeping the riches of his kept position or obeying the passion he feels for his true love. What he fails to realise is that his kept position had already damaged his true love’s view of him on their first meeting before he even fell in love with her, and he loses both his patron and the girl he desires. Bobby clears his luxury flat, sells everything and is resting before leaving his empty luxury apartment forever. In the final pages of the 3rd Act while he is resting - expecting Sybil to come for a final reckoning - Jill, Bobby’s sister, arrives early - to help. She is a country girl with a very simple and straightforward view of life who, although supportive of her brother, has always been the voice of sweet reason. Sybil enters - a sophisticated woman of the world and is surprised to find Jill waiting …

JOHN GOES OFF STAGE NANCY [Opening chords on the piano PLAY EXTRACT THE WAY YOU LOOK AT IT

[CAROLINE reads SYBIL, EMMA reads JILL and JOHN reads MEARS

(Jill is seated)

SIBYL: Do you mind if I come in?

JILL (surprised): Oh

SIBYL: Shall I be in the way?

[JILL says nothing. SIBYL is rather amused.

How do you do?

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JILL (stammering): I'm very well, thank you. (She gets up.)

SIBYL: I'm sure - you look it.

JILL: I beg your pardon.

SIBYL: Not at all - it's a wonderful thing - health - I mean, isn't it?

JILL: Yes. But

[MEARS comes in, shutting the front door.

SIBYL: Oh! Mears - (at door) - please tell Mr. Rendon that I am here and ask him if he will make it convenient to see me (She looks at JILL) - alone for a few minutes. I shall not keep him long.

MEARS: Yes, Madame. (He goes out to bedroom.)

SIBYL: I suppose you are Bobby's sister - aren't you?

JILL: Yes.

SIBYL: My name's Risley. Sibyl Risley.

JILL: Yes. I know.

SIBYL: Oh! You do. I wondered.

JILL: Yes.

SIBYL: Do you mind if I smoke?

JILL: Not at all.

SIBYL: Have one? (She opens her case and offers her a cigarette. She does this rather elaborately.)

JILL: No, thank you.

SIBYL: You don't smoke?

JILL (rather flustered): No. Yes - I mean.

SIBYL (amused. Crosses to packing case and sits): I see - you mean - you don't particularly want to smoke one of mine?

JILL: Really!

SIBYL: Yes - that was rather beastly of me, wasn't it? I'm sorry. (Sits.)

JILL: You? Sorry?

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SIBYL (calmly. Lighting cigarette): How you hate me!

JILL: I don't. I don't know you.

SIBYL: My dear - that's just it. I find I only hate the people I don't know - I've so often been very disappointed when I've met them and found that it wasn't worth while using such a strong emotion.

JILL: I …

SIBYL: Of course, you must hate me. I should if I were you - and that's why I want to talk to you.

JILL: To me?

SIBYL: And why not?

JILL: Oh! Well

SIBYL: You see - you happen - not to believe that - I'm sorry.

JILL: Why should you be?

SIBYL: I see your point. You're quite right. Why should I be? It is rather curious, isn't it? And yet I am.

JILL: Oh! Well - if you say so.

SIBYL: Certainly I say so. And believe me I don't bother to tell lies - the truth is generally much more entertaining - You see in judging me, Miss Rendon, you forget - one thing …

JILL: And that is … ?

SIBYL: That we have something in common.

JILL: Oh! Really?

SIBYL: Yes. We both love Bobby.

JILL (startled): Love Bobby?

SIBYL: Yes. Why are you so surprised? You don't believe me?

JILL: I don't know what to say.

SIBYL (shrugs her shoulders): Why should you? It's quite natural. Think a minute. You didn't imagine that all this was just a pleasant little game for my amusement - or did you? If so, it was a very expensive kind of game. Just a rich woman's caprice - a mere whim to pass away an idle hour or two - is that what you thought? (Rises.) Perhaps you didn't realise that I had a point of view - that I meant something - that I'm flesh and blood - alive - with feelings

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- with emotions, capable of strong emotions - capable of love, real love. By that I mean - something strong and fine. But what does it matter? Of course, you thought everything beastly about me that you could. Why not? I should have done the same if I'd been you. I wonder why it is that women who understand each other so well should wilfully put a wrong meaning on each other's motives. But it doesn't matter what you thought - I'm not doing this to make you like me - not at all - I don't care whether you do or don't - that is not the point. (She moves towards JILL.) The point is, I did love Bobby - I do still love Bobby. I love him very much - and that is why I am here. If I didn't love him I wouldn't have come here - You know I'm not a very humble woman - I haven't had to be - I love him and that's enough. Thank God there is no pride in my kind of love, and so I've come. I want to help him.

JILL: You?

SIBYL: Yes, me. Is that so strange?

JILL: But you can't.

SIBYL: Why not?

JILL: You - of all people.

SIBYL: Is it such a dreadful thing to be in love?

JILL: No.

SIBYL: Are we human beings supposed to go through life curbing our passions?

JILL: Really - I …!

SIBYL: I don't think it would be very good for one - do you? Just for propriety's sake! (She laughs.) And who and what is propriety? Surely one is meant to live - and to live is to love. (Crosses to JILL.) Oh! My dear Miss Rendon - don't look so shocked. What I'm telling you is true - although it may be news to you. (She laughs.) The truth is very lamentable, isn't it? And what is this law that a man may keep a woman - but a woman is not allowed to keep the man she loves?

JILL: I think you're dreadful.

SIBYL (shrugs her shoulders): I am what I am. I'm sorry you dislike me. I'm very human. But even though you hate me - please tell me how I can best help him.

JILL: I see.

SIBYL: Well?

JILL: I think you had better ask him yourself.

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SIBYL: If he will see me. I haven't seen him for three weeks, you know. And now! (She looks at the empty flat. Moves towards packing case.) You won't help me?

JILL: What do you want me to say?

SIBYL: What you think.

[BOBBY comes in quietly and listens.

JILL: I think you can best help him by never seeing him again.

[SIBYL bites her lip.

[SYBIL and JILL hold their positions and remain seated during the song – the lights on Stage Right dim at the end of the song

End of THE WAY YOU LOOK AT IT ADRIAN THEY DIDN’T BELIEVE ME And when I told them How beautiful you are They didn’t believe me They didn’t believe me Your lips, your eyes, your cheeks, your hair Are in a class beyond compare You’re the loveliest thing That one could see And when I tell them And I certainly going to tell them That I’m the man whose wife one day you’ll be They’ll never believe me They’ll never believe me That from this great big world they’ve chosen me. [Curtain closes and Twenties music fades in … [PETER FERGUSON - Announcement of intermission with refreshment

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SECOND HALF [Twenties music fades out … ADRIAN TOUJOURS L’AMOUR ON THE COTE D’AZUR In Brittany they’re busy at their fisheries In Normandy they’re making aromatic cheese But it’s toujours l’amour on the Cote d’Azur It’s toujours l’amour toujours. In Burgundy are tons of vintage grapes to raise Marseilles is making bigger and better Bouillibaise But it’s toujours l’amour on the Cote D’Azue It’s toujours l’amour toujours. Up in Calais They plod away And spend all day In loading and unloading freighters In Biarritz Nobody sits They’re all hard-working croupiers and singing waiters In Limoges they’re either busy making pottery Or else they’re selling tickets for the lottery But it’s toujours l’amour on the Cote D’Azur It’s toujours l’amour toujours. I can just catch the echo of his voice telling the startled manager that Paris had created an inspired odour called ‘Suivez moi, jeune homme; I can just recall the arrogant tilt of his chin as he throws this equivocal phrase across the little shop, in to the faces od several dowagers who are making their usual choices of eau de Collogne and potpourri. Suivez moi, jeunne homme – it was a dangerous phrase, on his lips. For enterprise the North is quite illustrious Down here you’ll find we also are industrious For it’s toujours l’amour on the Cote D’Azue It’s toujours l’amour toujours. Fifty million Frenchmen can’t be wrong, I’ve heard them tell But fifty thousand others manage very well For it’s toujours l’amour on the Cote D’Azue It’s toujours l’amour toujours. In time of war Our hearts were sore As we foreswore

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Each fascinating belle and beauty In time of peace We must increase And every son of France must rise up to his duty! I am very happy my ancestors felt that way In fact, the only reason I am here today Is toujours l’amour on the Cote D’Azur It’s toujours l’amour toujours. JOHN Crossing the Continent in search for designs of distinction, Ned starts to develop his

business of interior design for the theatre and the wealthy. Every guest recalls the lavish décor of his properties dressed with armfuls of gladioli and lilies carefully placed in front of long mirrors. Parties that started at lunch one day, and went on until dinner the next and the next and ….

Parties, parties parties – Mrs. Pat is asked - is it true that she has nude parties – she laughs and reveals nothing more than a smile. Olga Lynn records a vigorous health and beauty approach to Ned’s weekend parties held at Blythe Hall…

EMMA He would send us our railway tickets beforehand and on our arrival he showered

hospitality on his guests, and often we would find charming gifts in our bedrooms. The house possessed an indoor swimming pool, and here we would assemble every morning about eleven o’clock and plunge into the heated water. Afterwards port wine and biscuits were served, and as cocktails were just beginning to be known Ned Lathom would occasionally try out a new drink.

One summer he thought it would be a change to have a ‘Liverpool weekend’, so he took a suite of rooms at the Adelphi Hotel, which had recently been built. Here we lived luxuriously, taking all our meals in Ned’s private sitting room. Every day nine or ten merry guests would gather round a table, among them Lady Ravensdale, Mrs Harry Lindsay, Ivor Novello and Beverley Nichols.

This visit to Liverpool included a spree at Blackpool, and I remember the agony I Suffered on the switchback railway. Accompanied by Irene Ravensdale and Ned, I set off gaily, thinking it would be great fun. I soon found that it was the most ghastly experience I had ever known, and I am afraid I made an utter fool of myself, screaming aloud, and then almost fainting: but I came out alive and vowed I would never try such pranks again.

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JOHN The number of parties in London grew and Ned began to spend more and more of his time there. Money was beginning to run low but the warnings of his Estate Manager Mr. Peel and Mr. Debenham his banker went unheeded. Ned’s concern was not for the wealth he had always taken for granted but with his personal race to become a recognised playwright in an uncertain lifespan. His life become a mixture of weeks spent in sanatoria in Scotland and on the Continent and pleasured nights at theatres and parties.

The Roaring Twenties are well underway. The theatre vibrant with the new style of

shocking plays, witty comedies and revues that reinforce the changing attitudes of class and society …

ADRIAN AIN’T WE GOT FUN NANCY [Piano continues and fades out over JOHN’s first line … JOHN Ned’s design business provides some of the scenery and decor for West End theatre

productions including ‘L’Ecole des Cocottes’ starring John Gielgud and Gladys Cooper. A small shop is established that has an even smaller life. His bad health continues to dog him. Godfrey Winn writes:

CAROLINE One invitation that I accepted with alacrity came from a sanatorium in Scotland. Here, incarcerated all that winter, with one lung useless and the other in poor shape, lay a still-youngish man who had almost dissipated a huge fortune in the pursuit of enjoyment and in giving pleasure often to worthless hangers-on, because his own sincere motivation, his one abiding ambition, eluded him. Ned Lathom longed to be acclaimed as a playwright; not to be known, instead, in the gossip columns as the peer who was one of the biggest theatrical `angels' in the West End, even to the extent of financing his own plays from time to time, so that they could be given a production by some Sunday-night Society. Classed as 'that inveterate first-nighter, the Earl of Lathom,' he had under the mask of flippancy that he wore in self-protection a passionate craving to achieve - just once before he died - a commercial success in the Theatre on his own merits …

… despite the consistent failure of any of his plays to be put on in the West End, had no bitterness or sense of martyrdom in his own make-up. Like so many other tubercular sufferers he was overflowing with optimism. In between the increasingly long periods that he had to surrender himself to the closed order of a whitewashed cell, he would feverishly embark upon bouts of entertaining in London, as though, despite his front of frivolity he was secretly aware how rapidly the candle was burning down for him.

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JOHN But Ned continues to write positively about his playwriting. Writing about the play ‘Ostriches’ and his changing style, Ned says…

CAROLINE Noël’s very nice about ‘Ostriches’ but of course it belongs to my old type – I am writing quite differently now. The last three “Fear” “Twenty Houses in a Row” & “A World of Our Own,” will all show that. In his play “Fear,” the fears of childhood, war and death are explored in a dark cathartic exercise - a stark psychological drama, where Ned reveals and perhaps heals himself. For the actor the lead role of a man overtaken by his “fears” is an almost impossible task. “ Fear “ was written in 1927, and was produced in the November of that year by the Play Actors' Society on a Sunday night, with Dennis Neilson Terry in the part of Tony. He was one of the famous Terry acting dynasty of whom John Gielgud was a member.

CAROLINE Again I was unable to be present (due to ill-health) But I understand that Mr. Terry's performance was magnificent, and since then he has bought the play, and so I shall still hope to see his interpretation. “Fear “ was an interesting play to write, and still more to re-write, which I have done completely since its first production. Of his play “ Twenty Houses in a Row,” Ned writes

CAROLINE …it has been performed on a Sunday night by the Venturers Society (JOHN: acting societies were used to get round the Censor’s blue pencil). It differs completely in style and environment from my other plays, and is in the nature of an experiment for me. I am reminded of Mr. Disraeli's comment on his son's first novel, “What does Ben know about Dukes?

JOHN In other words he is playfully saying… CAROLINE ‘what do I know about the life of ordinary folk!’

JOHN This play adopts the rarely used ‘time slip’ approach to the story – the most familiar

play of this type being Priestley’s “An Inspector Calls.” Here in this extract we go back in time from the teatime gathering of an ordinary lower middle class family in a suburban villa near London. Is this the largely boring suburban family we are led to believe - with its share of hidden skeletons and dysfunctional habits? Is Alfred Lyngsby a boring but loyal bank clerk and family man or a duplicitous night owl leading his double life with an East End lady of the night? In this extract Scarlet, the ‘lady’ in question and Carrie her partner in purchased passion discuss their lot with references to ‘The Captain’ also known as ‘Horace’ or ‘is Grace - all names for Carrie’s constant male, military companion…

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NANCY [Piano introduction that fades out over bell ringing … PLAY EXTRACT TWENTY HOUSES IN A ROW [EMMA reads SCARLET, CAROLINE reads CARRIE and JOHN reads THE CAPTAIN [A bell rings JOHN RINGS BELL CONTINOUSLY

SCARLET: 'Oo the' ell are you making such a row?

[The bell rings again.

All right. I'm coming.

[She goes to the door and opens it. MRS POPPER comes in. MRS. POPPER is fat and forty and is puffing hard.

Carrie!

CARRIE: Them stairs.

SCARLET: I am glad to see you.

CARRIE: Wait till I get my breath.

SCARLET: What d'you expect? An elevator?

CARRIE (puffing): No, dear, but I'm

SCARLET: You always was fat.-

CARRIE: My figure was always good.

SCARLET: Figure! Yours!

CARRIE: There now. Give us a kiss.

SCARLET (does so): 'Ow's 'Grace?

CARRIE (innocently - with a lot of H.): Horace? (Then) Oh! You mean the Captain?

SCARLET: I mean ‘Grace.

CARRIE: You always will have your little joke.

SCARLET: I said 'Grace and I meant 'Grace. 'E's a perfect 'Grace.

CARRIE: Oh! 'E - he's all right. 'E's coming later. 'E just went, you know, where to get a drop of you know what.

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SCARLET: Always was a gentleman. (She winks.) CARRIE (pleased): Wasn't 'e.

SCARLET: Come on Lemme take your things for you. Stylish as ever.

CARRIE: 'E likes it.

SCARLET (helps her of with her coat): I must say that's smart. (Jealously.) Oh! Well.

CARRIE: It is. Ain't it?

SCARLET: I'm glad you come without 'im. We'll 'ave a good talk. Where you been all this time?

CARRIE: Didn't you know?

SCARLET: NO.

CARRIE: Didn't you get my letter?

SCARLET: Letter?

CARRIE: Yes.

SCARLET: Never read 'em.

CARRIE: Oh! Well then. My aunt died.

SCARLET: What?

CARRIE (nods solemnly): Yes.

SCARLET: The one that 'ad -?

CARRIE (nods again): That's it.

SCARLET: I must say.

[CARRIE nods. Poor soul.

CARRIE: I have been very upset. (She sniffs.)

SCARLET: You never got on, did you?

CARRIE: No. (She sniffs again.) She's dead now.

SCARLET: Yes, that does make a difference. Well. Doesn't it?

CARRIE (sniffs): I suppose so.

SCARLET: But still, you could 'ave come round and seen your old friends.

CARRIE: The Captain said

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SCARLET: To 'ell with what 'Grace said. You might have come round. We could 'ave talked it over. It might ‘ave done you good.

CARRIE: I know. But the Captain

SCARLET: 'E was always too much of a gentleman.

CARRIE: Don't you say a word against 'im.

SCARLET: I been lonely - without you. And times is none too good.

CARRIE (glances at her): Oh! (then) poor dear. Business bad?

SCARLET: H'm. H'm.

CARRIE: It's been filthy weather, too.

SCARLET: Yes, 'asn't it? (Then suddenly.) What time is it?

CARRIE: About half - past five - why?

SCARLET (sniffs): That's all right then.

CARRIE (understandingly): Oh! - Expecting some one?

SCARLET: Here? What are you getting at?

CARRIE (knowingly): Nothing, dearie.

SCARLET: Asking questions like that.

CARRIE: I'm an old friend.

SCARLET: And I'll bother you to keep your nose out of my affairs.

CARRIE: I wasn't asking anything.

SCARLET: Oh! And wasn't you? Then what was you doing, I'd like to know? And look here, my girl, I always been respectable, I 'ave. Not like you.

CARRIE: I don't know what you mean.

SCARLET: I mean just what I say. I always been respectable. I was a married woman, I was - until my 'usband died.

CARRIE: I know.

SCARLET: I got my lines to prove it.

CARRIE: I know, Scarlet, I know.

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SCARLET: Don't you dare to stop me. As for you, my girl. Mrs. Popper, Mrs. Popper indeed!

CARRIE: Oh! Scarlet, don't.

SCARLET: I'd like to see your lines.

CARRIE: Don't, Scarlet. Don't - I ain't got none, and you know it. So don't.

SCARLET: And 'Orace. The Captain. Captain Drummond. Drum and what? Drum and Fife - that's more like it. Always the gentleman. The perfect gentleman. Then why didn't 'e marry you, that's what I'd like to know.

CARRIE: Scarlet, Scarlet. (She starts to cry.)

SCARLET: I'll teach you to nose, I will. That's right, cry. A perfect gentleman. Too good for the likes of you, that's what. My good woman, you're nothing but a tart.

CARRIE: Oh! Oh! (Still crying.)

SCARLET: And don't you go asking me no questions.

CARRIE: I didn't mean no 'arm.

SCARLET: Didn't mean no 'arm, indeed! You picked your 'Grace up. Of course you did, and you know it.

CARRIE (faintly): Me?

SCARLET: Yes, you. And I've never done an old man down for twenty quid.

CARRIE: I didn't.

SCARLET: Oh! Yes, you did.

CARRIE (indignantly): I didn't.

SCARLET: You've forgotten? You told me all about it one night after you'd 'ad a couple. Yes, and laughed yer silly 'ead off about it too. Twenty quid. There's a name for women like you, Mrs. Popper, so just you mind your own business, and let me mind mine.

CARRIE: I didn't mean to ask no questions.

SCARLET: Oh! Didn’t you?

CARRIE: I didn't mean it that way, 'onest, Scarlet. I didn't, and I'm sorry. What more can I say?

SCARLET: All right, then. I'll forgive you this once. Anyhow, I'm bored and times is 'ard.

CARRIE (sighs): Ah! Dear. Then it ain't any use me askin'.

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SCARLET: Oh! And so you had come round to borrow something - just till Friday.

CARRIE: No, Scarlet, I 'adn't.

SCARLET: Oh, yes, you 'ad. Not been near me for months - and you tells 'Orace to keep out of the way until you've touched - I see it, ah, and if I'm doing bad, my girl, it don't make no difference to you, you come round and borrow just the same.

CARRIE: I wasn't going to. But if you could be so kind.

SCARLET: I'll see. Mind, it's only till Friday though.

CARRIE: Yes, on my honour.

SCARLET (opens a drawer): Oh! It’s in the other room, wait a mo! I'll get it.

CARRIE: It'll do later.

SCARLET: All right. Have one? (Offers her a drink.)

CARRIE: Me? (Shakes her head.) Oh, no!

SCARLET: Just a drop?

CARRIE: Oh, well.

SCARLET (Pours it out): Say when.

CARRIE: You lucky girl, do tell.

SCARLET (still pouring): I said say when.

CARRIE: It isn't when yet.

SCARLET (fills the glass): There, now.

CARRIE: Thank you, dear.

[SCARLET fills her own glass.

SCARLET (lifts her glass): 'Ere's 'ow. Scarlet's my name, and scarlet's my life. (She laughs.)

CARRIE: Scarlet!

[They both drink. The bell rings.

SCARLET: Oh! My God, I do 'ope it's not 'im.

CARRIE (giggles); Oh, my God. I do 'ope it is.

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[SCARLET goes to the door and opens it. The CAPTAIN comes in. He sways a little when he walks.

SCARLET: Blessed if it ain't 'Grace, 'Grace, my old darling. CAPTAIN: Good evening, Mrs. Abel.

SCARLET: Hear that, Carrie. Mrs. Abel. 'Grace certainly does know 'ow to treat a lady. Come on in and 'ave one.

CAPTAIN: Thanks, I will. (He comes into the room, swaying a little.)

SCARLET: Help yourself.

CARRIE (warningly): Captain!

[SCARLET shuts the door.

CAPTAIN: A'right, my dear.

SCARLET: Go on, 'elp yourself.

CAPTAIN: Thank you. (He looks at CARRIE, who doesn't notice.) I will.

CARRIE: Come on, Scarlet, you were just going to tell me all about - you know - when the Captain come in.

SCARLET: Was I? 'Ere, got your drink? Sit down.

[He does so.

That's right. Where was I?

CARRIE: You wasn't anywhere, dear, not yet.

SCARLET: Well, then, it was rather funny (she giggles) I got picked up.

CARRIE: Picked up! (Pretends to be shocked.)

SCARLET: Don't you be so shocked either.

CAPTAIN: Gallantry, gallantry.

SCARLET: Well, you can call it that, if you like, but to some it's business, and business is business. Now, I never do that sort of thing, never.

CARRIE: Oh, no!

SCARLET (looks at her): And no I don't, but that's why it is so funny. I've never - oh! Well, but this one

CAPTAIN (puts out his hand for the bottle): Would you care for a spot?

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SCARLET: There, help yourself. This one is different from anything that has ever happened before - leastways to me, and I've 'ad some experience.

CARRIE: I knew it was going to be a swell.

SCARLET: A swell, no indeed. Not 'im. He's just a - just a funny little old man.

CARRIE: Old man?

SCARLET: Yes, old. Quiet and funny and nothing to look at all.

CARRIE: That's no much.

SCARLET: But 'e pays well.

CAPTAIN: Would you like a little drop?

CARRIE: Go on, tell us.

[The CAPTAIN finishes his drink.

SCARLET: Now, let's see. It was about three weeks ago.

[The CAPTAIN stretches out his hand for the bottle.

CARRIE (warningly): Captain!

CAPTAIN (ashamedly): Sorry, my dear.

SCARLET: No, go on, let him, Carrie.

CARRIE: All right.

[The CAPTAIN finishes his glass again.

SCARLET: Three weeks ago.

CARRIE: Just about the time my poor aunt died.

SCARLET: The night of that storm.

CARRIE: Storm's is always lucky. I think it's the lightnin'.

SCARLET: I don't know so much about that. It was awful wet though. You know, one of them downpours, something cruel, fairly late, too - with nothing doing anywhere. My clothes all wet through - rain going down my back – sticky-like - no money - the rent owin' and not a drop in the 'ouse.

CAPTAIN: Good gracious!

SCARLET: A fair stumer. Well, I was just walking along, you know, sauntering like, not thinking of anything particular, except that my 'at was wet through, when I

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suddenly spies a funny little figure saunterin' too, not thinking of anything particular either. You know the way they 'ave. The only difference was that 'e'd got an umbrella up. Something seemed to say to me - that's what. And anyway, I liked the look of that umbrella, so I just got along side of him and said, “Evenin', George. Ever had a new hat?” And 'e said, “No.” So then we went and had a drink.

CAPTAIN: Good!

SCARLET: Yes, it was good that. I needed that one. And then I pulled myself together and in the end said, “Well, old cock,” and he didn't say anythink, and I said (She starts to laugh.) Oh! Dear, it was funny - 'cos I said (find she bursts into laughter.)

CARRIE: What makes you laugh?

SCARLET (she laughs a bit and then): He was that shy.

CAPTAIN (clears his throat): A gentleman, that is a real gentleman

SCARLET: Gentleman or no gentleman, he was that shy he could hardly get a word out. I 'ad to do it for him. But I landed 'im all right, and since then everything's O.K.

CARRIE: 'Ow old did you say he was, dear?

SCARLET: Old? 'E's as old as Moses.

CARRIE: They're the worst. Married?

SCARLET: I dunno. 'Spect so. Yes, a course he is – you know, right enough when they're married. There's a sort of I don't know what, isn't there?

CARRIE: Old and married. My! (Looks to heaven.) Any money?

SCARLET: Not bad.

CARRIE: That's right, dearie.

SCARLET: What's right, dearie?

CARRIE: Get it out of them, I say.

SCARLET: I'm never like that.

CARRIE: You should, you know. Shouldn't she, Captain?

CAPTAIN: A gentleman always pays for what he has.

CARRIE: Oh, does he?

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End of TWENTY HOUSES IN A ROW

NANCY [Piano plays and fades out over JOHN’s first line …

JOHN The audience are led a dance wondering whether the Alfred reported in the press as strangling Scarlet later that evening, is the same person as Alfred Lyngsby dozing by the fire in the suburban villa.

We see the Lyngsby family being told by Alfred that the two Alfreds are one and the same and they await with terror the expected ring on the doorbell for the police to come and arrest him. But after another time slip, the Lyngsby Family act as if nothing has EVER been revealed. A bell rings violently. They wonder who it can be …the door is opened.… A book Alfred is holding slips from his hand …. A clock strikes seven.

Alfred opens his eyes and jumps up in horror staring at his hands, then falls back relieved in his chair. Was it all a dream?

There has always been a strong tie between the aristocratic and theatre worlds. Many of the world’s richest and aristocratic families have enjoyed the excitement, beauty and fun of the theatre world and its glitterati. Ned was a Gay man.

In common with all gay performers and writers danger lay outside the close world of the theatre.

It is impossible to know fully what Ned’s thoughts were about his relationships with others. He was certainly close to Lord Alington, Noel Coward and Ivor Novello but also to Gladys Cooper, and Tallulah Bankhead and other women. Some of these had intimate relationships with both men and women and some were married.

A story is told that at least provides one possible explanation for Ned’s marriage to one of his designers, the divorcee, Xenia Morrison, who is 2 years older than Ned, and is with a party at Claridge’s - at the time he is attempting to get his plays published. After some drinks he agrees a wager with her that if his plays are published he will marry her and writes the wager on a napkin. The plays are published and Ned duly keeps his word …

ADRIAN IF LOVE WERE ALL Life is very rough and tumble For a humble Diseuse One can betray one’s troubles never Whatever Occurs Night after night Have to look bright Whether you’re well or ill

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People must laugh their fill You mustn’t sleep Till dawn comes creeping Though I never really grumble Life’s a jumble Indeed – And in my efforts to succeed I’ve had to formulate a creed I believe in doing what I can In crying when I must In laughing when I choose Heigho, if love were all I should be lonely I believe the more you love a man The more you give your trust The more you’re bound to lose Although when shadows fall I think if only – Somebody splendid really needed me Someone affectionate and dear Cares would be ended if I knew that he Wanted to have me near But I believe that since my life began The most I’ve had is just A talent to amuse Heigh! If love were all Though life buffets me obscenely It serenely Goes on Although I question its conclusion Illusion Is gone Frequently I Put a bit by Safe for a rainy day Nobody here can say To what, indeed The years are leading Fate may often treat me meanly But I keenly Pursue A little mirage in the blue Determination helps me through I believe in doing what I can In crying when I must In laughing when I choose

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Heigho, if love were all I should be lonely I believe the more you love a man The more you give your trust The more you’re bound to lose Although when shadows fall I think if only – Somebody splendid really needed me Someone affectionate and dear Cares would be ended if I knew that he Wanted to have me near But I believe that since my life began The most I’ve had is just A talent to amuse Heigho! If love were all

JOHN By the end of 1923 Ned had spent almost all of his inherited fortune. Three major sales of his Lathom Estate, properties and their contents result. Some London homes were also sold. We have yet to discover the real value of the property he inherited and the money that remained after all of the settlements were made. What is clear is that whatever he inherited was spent over a period of some 12 to 16 years in a style that was generous to the point of foolhardiness. The demise of a great estate always creates pain - but generosity was shown to the community he was leaving. Most of the servants, local traders, tenants and the community at large have something to be grateful for in his bankruptcy – an event that provided freehold farms, cottages, public houses, land and timber - sold by his bankers and their agents to many sitting tenants at lower than market prices.

He provided the enthusiasm and finance for some of the most significant events in the development of the theatre between the Wars. He was a successful financial angel for the impresario Andre Charlot who leased the Prince of Wales Theatre from 1918 to 1926, financing his most successful revues.

But the candle is burning low and Ned’s illness, lack of money and dead marriage –Ned and Xenia appear to have spent most of this time apart and rumours abound that it is only Ned’s sense of honour that leads him to maintain the semblance of a marriage. In a letter to Martin Secker his publisher sent from a clinic in Germany where he is taken after falling ill abroad - to another bout of consumption, he says:

CAROLINE Only just a line to tell you where I am. I was brought here dreadfully ill 6 weeks ago & I am slowly recovering. But it's a loathsome place & I mean to escape as soon as I can get up and travel. And then I shall try & find a quiet cottage in a healthy place in England & stay there & write endless plays! I hope to be back at the beginning of June but I shall not be at Regents Park Road. As absolutely between ourselves my home life is rather bust up … … Don't bother to answer this as it is only to let you know that by the grace of God I am still alive. Yours ever Lathom

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JOHN Little of Ned’s money remains but in his letters his spirits always appear high and

his thinking positive: EMMA I should be so grateful, if you could send me 2 copies of 1st Plays & 2 copies of the

2nd Plays if you still have them - & if you will let me know how much they are I will send the money By Return. I have been in bed since I last wrote to you. But I am moving into my own new home at 24, Queen’s Road, St. Johns Wood, N.W.8 on Monday & I do hope you will come & see me there. I think Nigel Playfair – if he can get the money – is going to do a little musical play I wrote with Vivian Ellis (called Happily Ever After) & Also I think the Arts Theatre are going to do a play of mine (Wet Paint with Iris Hoey). So things are looking up. All my best wishes. Yours Ever Lathom

JOHN Ned’s legacy is the wealth of love, opportunity and happiness he gave to the hundreds he supported and helped. Feckless or not, in the larger than life world he lived – he is remembered with affection by those of the theatre world he loved. Here are some words with their repeated themes - from those who knew him. From Sir John Gielgud:

CAROLINE Ned Lathom was a delightful friend of mine mad about the theatre and very rich when I first met him in the 20s. He was always delicate and went to Davos for a cure. He backed Andre Charlot and wrote several smart comedies which were produced on Sunday nights but did not make the commercial theatre except I think on one occasion when the play failed. I was entertained by him on many occasions at his sumptuous flat at Mount Street (long pulled down) and it was there that I met several of the biggest theatre stars, Marie Tempest, Gladys Cooper and many others. The books in his library were all specially bound and he had fine pictures, some of them portraits by Raeburn. He would take all the members of his lunch party to recitals (Freda Hempel, Becchens etc.) in a special bus with a box at the Albert Hall and invite us back to dinner afterwards. But apparently he squandered his entire fortune by his generous habits, and I was horrified to hear that he had died in a small flat in St. John’s Wood ministered to only by a single valet. I had quite lost touch with him by then, and nobody ever told me of his sad fate or of course I would have love to have gone and seen him. Robert Harris told me he once stayed with him at Blythe Hall – his Lancashire home (this was some years before I met him) where there was a swimming pool and crystal banisters coming down to it. Noel Coward and Mrs. Patrick Campbell were two of his great friends among so many others. I cannot imagine that nobody passed the hat round when he was declared bankrupt. I still have a beautiful clock from Asprey’s the first expensive gift I think that I ever received. I remember him with much affection and regret.

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JOHN Beverley Nichols the journalist and writer on gardens and cats, says in a description of how he heard about the Ivor Novello song we heard earlier ‘And Her Mother Came Too,’ of an occasion at Ned’s home at Great Cumberland Place.

He says of Ned:

EMMA He adored the theatre, and himself wrote several plays, which had considerable

talent … The Way You Look At It caused nose-wrinkling in Mayfair; it was about a young man who was kept by a middle-aged woman, and Ned wrote it in a way which showed clearly that he considered this a perfectly proper arrangement. Mayfair did not think that an eligible young earl should express such opinions, particularly if – as in Ned’s case – his grandfather had been Lord Chamberlain under Queen Victoria.

As we enter his home… the footman flings open the door our nostrils are assailed by a powerful and sickly perfume, and we see another footman, in the background, scurrying away with a white-hot leaden spoon in his hand, from which fumes of scented smoke are drifting. This was another habit of Ned’s which caused Mayfair nose-wrinkling, in more senses than one. The footmen of eligible young earls, people felt, should be better employed than dropping scent onto hot spoons just before luncheon. I rather enjoyed the habit, and one day I bought some of the scent myself. It was called Omy, and was really meant for putting in one’s bath. However I gave it up; it seemed pretentious for a tiny house in Pimlico; apart from that it alarmed the cats.

JOHN Vivian Ellis, describing a working association with Collie Knox a sub-editor on the Daily Express who also wrote lyrics – he says:

CAROLINE Another association with Collie Knox was an operetta Happily Ever After, for

which he did the lyrics to a ‘book’ by the late Earl of Lathom. Ned Lathom who had backed some of Charlot’s revues, including ‘London Calling’ for Noel Coward and Gertrude Lawrence with dresses by Captain Edward Molyneux, was a tremendous enthusiast for the theatre and died a poor man. A talented author himself, he was always predicting a successful future for me, a future alas, that he did not live to see. Nothing came of happily Ever After. When Ned Lathom lay dying, he sent for me to play for him. I would often go to his house and do so. I was rehearsing Cochran’s 1930 Revue in a Poland Street rehearsal room, and I had not left a phone number. Immediately I received the message I left the rehearsal, but it was too late.

JOHN The final word is with the actress Marie Tempest who lived near Ned at St John’s

Wood, London and visited him often in his last months - she gives probably the most concise insight we have.

EMMA He was a delightful companion and the complete dilettante of the theatre. I don't

like dilettantes usually, mind you, but he had talent and his damnation was that he was rich. His tragedy, to him, was that be had failed as a dramatist. Every play which he wrote fell short of success.

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He had great talent, but the curse of the amateur was on him. The lack of finish, the sense of hurry, the fatal satisfaction with the first draft of what he wrote. I was his friend in his unhappy days also. He had thrown money to the winds, perhaps with some sort of foreboding about his early death. I do not know. I saw him many times in the months before he died, when his money had gone.

He was in a small house in St. John's Wood. He said to me, the last time I saw him, “Mary, how lovely it is to be without possessions.

[Piano starts quietly to introduce a reprise of … ADRIAN, CAST AND AUDIENCE SPREAD A LITTLE HAPPINESS I’ve got a creed For every need So perfect that it must succeed I’ll set it down for you to read+ So please Take heed Keep out the gloom Let in the sun That’s my advice to everyone It’s only once we pass this way So day by day Even when the darkest clouds are in the sky You mustn’t sigh And you mustn’t cry Just spread a little happiness as you go by Please try What’s the use of worrying and feeling blue? When days are long Keep on smiling through And spread a little happiness till dreams come true Surely you’ll to wise to make the best of every blues day Don’t you realise you’ll find next Monday or next Tuesday Your golden shoes day Even when the darkest clouds are in the sky You mustn’t sigh And you mustn’t cry

Just spread a little happiness as you go by!

[Nancy plays God Save the King/Queen – all rise and sing END