Scene I
The living room of JEMIMA's flat. The space tells a story of sudden wealth awkwardly applied: peeling wallpaper shares wall space with what appears to be a genuine REMBRANDT, hastily hung to cover cracks. Expensive furniture sits alongside shabby pieces. The overall effect is charmingly chaotic.
Piano music drifts from an adjoining room. TOBIAS, a handsome man in his twenties with an air of casual confidence, arranges cushions and straightens furniture. A silver tray holds an array of carefully prepared sandwiches. He eyes them hungrily.
JEMIMA (calling from the next room): You had better save those. You know Alex is very fond of them.
The piano stops abruptly. JEMIMA enters with a flourish, her dress slightly dishevelled from playing. She has a natural, unaffected beauty and moves with unconscious grace. She flops dramatically onto the sofa that Tobias has just arranged, immediately undoing his work.
TOBIAS deliberately takes a sandwich and eats it with exaggerated relish, then takes another. And another. And another. Only one remains.
JEMIMA: So mature. (She watches him with fond exasperation) One of these days, you and Alexander will be friends.
TOBIAS (brushing crumbs from his fingers): Jemima, when that day comes, I will be watching the Sykes' pot-bellied sow winging it towards the sunset — right before Alexander and I waltz through the snowdrifts of Dis.
JEMIMA (sitting up with renewed energy): I think you're simply being petty. Will you at least try to get along with him? For my sake? He is my brother, after all.
TOBIAS (settling into an armchair): How you could possibly be related to such a crushing bore confounds me entirely.
JEMIMA: Well, he has hidden depths.
TOBIAS: There's a fine line between "very well hidden" and "non-existent." And Alexander crossed that line some time ago.
JEMIMA (rising and pacing): You know... You don't have to be here for his visit. You could go off and... do whatever it is you do with those girls down at the docks.
TOBIAS (grinning wickedly): But then I would miss the walking circus that is your brother. He brings such levity to my dull little life by being so delightfully clownish. Besides, I know all the girls down at the docks... (meaningful pause) intimately.
JEMIMA (throwing a cushion at him): You are such a dog!
TOBIAS (catching the cushion): I have been called far worse.
JEMIMA: And richly deserve it.
TOBIAS (mock-wounded): All I said was that I know them intimately. They happen to be personal friends of mine. I used to go with them, years ago.
JEMIMA (covering her ears): I don't wish to know!
TOBIAS: So prudish.
JEMIMA (turning to face him, suddenly serious): Do you know, if you were a woman, you'd be whispered about in drawing rooms as a Jezebel and a harlot? Yet I hear nothing but praise for your many, many many, many... (she waves her hand vaguely) exploits.
TOBIAS (rising and bowing theatrically): You are most welcome to call me such names. For I hold no shame in that role, nor in the company I keep.
JEMIMA: Without any of the stigma and shunning it would bring a woman.
TOBIAS (more quietly): I wouldn't say that entirely.
JEMIMA: You wouldn't say it because you have nothing to lose! A fine name, an excellent reputation, and a string of prospects for loving, devoted wives waiting in the wings. You are every bachelor's dream and every young lady's desire. Yet despite all of that, you would still court such gossip and scandal as would put any reputation in disrepute.
TOBIAS (sitting heavily): That does sound like rather a lot to lose... when you spell it out like that.
JEMIMA (softening): I'm glad you see sense.
TOBIAS: Ha. You seem different lately. More... confident.
JEMIMA: Mrs Penbrooke's been teaching me about women's independence. Not intentionally, mind you - she's as helpless as a kitten in a thunderstorm. But writing her columns has made me think about what I want from life, rather than just what's expected of me.
TOBIAS: That's brilliant. I am very happy for you. (long pause) Regarding what you were saying about seeing sense... well ... I see something. Whether it's sense or not is another matter entirely.
JEMIMA (moving closer, her voice becoming tender): I only mean to say... You have the makings of a true gentleman. Yet you choose to act the rogue. A loveable rogue, certainly, but a rogue nonetheless. And I worry that you will... (she stops herself) No. Nothing.
TOBIAS (looking up at her): Worry what?
JEMIMA: It doesn't matter.
TOBIAS: What?
JEMIMA (after a pause): I just worry that, one day, you will put your foot in it and do something so scandalous that it will tarnish even the untarnishable —something so public and irreversible that it would harm your reputation in a way even your charm and wit cannot fix. I shall pray for you.
TOBIAS: Even I don't pray for myself.
JEMIMA (brightening): Then I shall pray twice as hard.
TOBIAS: Such is the way of the pious. I never asked you to pray for me.
JEMIMA: I know. That's what makes me so wonderfully charitable. I pray for you so you don't have to.
TOBIAS (amused): Do you pray for everyone with such vim and vigour?
JEMIMA (very quietly): Only for those I love. And I do love you, Tobias. You know that, don't you?
A moment of silence. TOBIAS looks at her carefully.
TOBIAS: I have... always suspected.
JEMIMA (taking a breath, speaking quickly): And now you know for certain. I would ask you to marry me if it weren't for Alexander. I would hate to know that he despised the man I adored. That's why I try so hard to foster friendship between you. I want him to adore you just as much as I do.
TOBIAS (gently): You know that day will never come.
JEMIMA: But won't you try? (Pause, vulnerable) Do you not feel the same way? Forgive me... I hope you don't think me too forward. I swear I haven't been emboldened since starting ghost writing for Mrs Penbrooke. Do you know what she had me write last week? An entire column about women taking charge of their romantic destinies. "The modern woman," she said, "must be willing to speak her heart, consequences be damned." Rather hypocritical advice from a woman who pays someone else to write her thoughts, but... well, here I am.
TOBIAS (standing, moving away slightly): I do love you, Jemima. But... in the way a friend loves a friend. More than that, even - I've come to view you almost as a sister.
JEMIMA freezes. The words hit her like a physical blow.
JEMIMA (very quietly): Oh. I... see. Forgive me for my confession, then. I would hate to have made things awkward between us.
TOBIAS: I am truly sorry, Jemima.
JEMIMA (attempting lightness, but her voice wavers): I... think I require a sandwich. (She eats the last sandwich, leaving the tray empty.) And now we have none left for Alexander's visit.
TOBIAS: Shall I make more?
JEMIMA: I'm too melancholic for sandwiches. I'll see if we have olives instead. Each one contains the pit of despair I feel just now.
TOBIAS: Are you trying to make me feel guilty for not loving you romantically?
JEMIMA: Is it working?
TOBIAS: A little.
JEMIMA: Good.
The doorbell RINGS. JEMIMA looks heavenward in despair.
JEMIMA: Alexander? Already? Have all the demons of Dis come to torment me at once? We have no sandwiches, my love has been rejected, and the olives are still in the refrigerator.
TOBIAS: Shall I get the door or the olives?
JEMIMA: The olives.
JEMIMA sighs deeply and rolls off the sofa. She goes to the front door. TOBIAS exits toward the kitchen.
ALEXANDER (from outside): Knock knock!
JEMIMA: Who's there?
ALEXANDER: It's Alexander.
JEMIMA: Alexander, who?
ALEXANDER: Sister dear, you know perfectly well who I am. Open the door.
JEMIMA: Fine, spoilsport. I'm opening it now. Though I warn you, I'm not properly dressed.
JEMIMA opens the door. ALEXANDER DAVIES stands on the threshold - he's handsome, well-dressed, with an air of refinement. A white rose adorns his buttonhole.
ALEX: Do you normally answer the door in a state of undress?
JEMIMA: I said "not properly dressed." I never said undressed. (Gesturing at her appearance) Though I might as well be. These clothes are hardly fit for company.
ALEX (gallantly): I wouldn't say that at all. You look perfectly charming.
JEMIMA (stepping aside): Well... come in if you're coming. Oh, and please remove your shoes. Thank you.
ALEX enters, carefully removing his shoes. TOBIAS returns with a bowl of olives.
ALEX: Well met, dear sister. My compliments - you look exceptionally well. (Noticing TOBIAS) As does your... companion.
JEMIMA: Ever the silver tongue. Please, sit. Would you care for some tea?
ALEX: Tea would be nice.
JEMIMA: It would be. Though… We don't have any.
ALEX: Oh, I see.
JEMIMA: Yes. Tea would be nice. I can offer you some beer.
ALEX: Beer will suffice.
JEMIMA: Tobias will fetch it now. Won't you, Tobias?
TOBIAS (with a cool smile): Certainly, Jemima. Alexander, always a pleasure to see you look... marginally less dreadful than usual.
ALEXANDER (coolly): And you look as though you've been dragged through a hedge backwards.
TOBIAS: Hmm... Charming as always, Alexander. Your manners never fail to underwhelm.
JEMIMA (frustrated): Must you two always be at each other's throats? Ugh! I'm going to change into something more suitable.
She starts to exit, then pauses.
JEMIMA: Try not to kill each other while I'm gone.
ALEX: Don't be gone too long. I will grow tired of his company.
JEMIMA exits. The moment she's gone, both men's postures change completely.
ALEX (rushing forward): She's gone. How now, my love?
TOBIAS (meeting him halfway): How much longer must we keep up this charade of indifference?
ALEX: Till I am certain she will be okay with the possibility that I am... … … that is to say... … …
TOBIAS: Or not say, as the case may be. Alexander, I grow weary of these games. And I've learned something devastating.
ALEX: As do I, my sweet, but it won't be much longer. I...
Hearing JEMIMA's approaching footsteps, they spring apart.
ALEX (loudly, resuming his hostile tone): I grow bored with your tedious company! Sister, must Tobias always be lurking about when I come to visit?
TOBIAS: If you prefer not to see me, then don't call on Thursdays when I'm not at work. Or better yet, don't call at all.
ALEX: Fie! You pompous ass! I've half a mind to...
TOBIAS: You have half a mind... period.
ALEX: Better half a mind than to be utterly devoid of wit and charm!
JEMIMA enters, now in a fresh dress but looking distressed.
JEMIMA: Will you both SHUT UP?! I cannot bear this! Every single week, it's the same thing. If Mother were alive, she'd lock you both in a room and refuse to let you out until you apologised and made peace. I've half a mind to adopt the practice myself. Or perhaps I shouldn't bother - why should I care?! It doesn't matter now, one way or another.
ALEX (concerned): Are you quite alright, sister? You seem... not yourself.
JEMIMA: Not myself? And what would "myself" be, Alexander? Loving? Caring? Confidant? Affectionate? Am I not all of those things and more?
ALEX: Well, I suppose... though I'm unsure of the relevance to...
JEMIMA: Oh, of course! Because if it concerns me, then it's not relevant!
TOBIAS: Jemima...
ALEX: Am I missing something here?
JEMIMA: You tell him, Tobias.
TOBIAS: Jemima...
ALEX: Tell me what?
Long pause. Both JEMIMA and TOBIAS remain silent.
ALEX: Is either of you going to enlighten me, or must I wait for the inevitable explosion over dinner?
TOBIAS: Alexander... I...
JEMIMA (suddenly fierce): Oh, I see! You direct your attention to Alexander in my time of heartbreak and rejection! If our positions were reversed, I would be comforting you. But then again, I suppose that would cross your precious boundaries of friendship that you guard so jealously, even as you flaunt your nightly excursions to the docks in my face!
ALEX: …
JEMIMA (turning to her brother): Alexander, I am in love with Tobias.
ALEX: WHAT?!
JEMIMA: I knew you'd react like this! Which is precisely why I never told you. Not that it matters now, as he doesn't love me in return. I doubt he has the capacity for love at all.
TOBIAS (stung): Have I not shown you love? All these years? Been there when you needed me?
JEMIMA: Until today.
TOBIAS: So my love only matters if it's romantic?
JEMIMA: Don't you dare presume to tell me that my feelings of hurt are somehow unjustified!
TOBIAS: I would never...
JEMIMA (to ALEX): I cannot deal with this! I'm going to my room. Show yourself out when you're finished here.
JEMIMA exits with dignity. Long silence.
ALEX (quietly): Was this what you learned?
TOBIAS nods miserably.
ALEX: You need to go talk to her.
TOBIAS: Why me? You're her brother.
ALEXANDER: You hurt her.
TOBIAS: Only because my heart belongs truly to you.
ALEX: And you couldn't lie? For her sake?
TOBIAS (passionate): Is she not worth more to you than a lie? Does she not deserve the truth? You are her brother - she adores you. Yet here you stand, suggesting I should have... what? Continue playing with her emotions like a fiddle? This lie has been eating me up for so long.
ALEX: So what? I am supposed to be okay with you breaking my sister's heart, so your own conscience is clear?
TOBIAS (wounded): You accuse me of the cruellest things. You both do. Do you think I deserve such scorn?
ALEX: Of course not.
TOBIAS: Then why...? Perhaps it would be better if I did you both the favour of leaving.
Long pause. ALEX says nothing.
TOBIAS: I see. Then I suppose this is goodbye.
TOBIAS exits quickly. ALEX remains alone, head in his hands.
==============================
SCENE II
The same room, approximately one hour later. ALEX sits in the same position. JEMIMA enters hesitantly.
JEMIMA: Tobias? Tobias? (Seeing only ALEX) Alex?
ALEXANDER (not looking up): He's gone.
JEMIMA: Gone? What do you mean, gone? Gone where?
ALEXANDER: GONE.
JEMIMA (with bitter satisfaction): Oh, I'll wager you're delighted! You never liked him. You expressed such venom whenever I so much as glanced in his direction. I suppose you're already uncorking the champagne... (She notices his posture) Alex? (Moving closer) Alexander, why are you crying?
ALEX looks up. His eyes are red.
ALEX: You don't understand.
JEMIMA: Then help me understand. Please? Alexander? (Sitting beside him) Surely it can't be so difficult to explain? I happen to be reasonably intelligent, despite what's written about me on the walls of the public conveniences in Tottenham Court Road.
ALEX (after a long pause): I never hated Tobias, sister. And that... that is the problem.
JEMIMA: But all those awful things you said about him...
ALEX: Jemima, do you remember when we were younger, and you were seeing that Jonathan Fairfax fellow?
JEMIMA: Oh yes. And you used to tell me how envious you were - of how strong he was, how brave, what a fighter...
ALEX: And what did you tell me?
JEMIMA: That I hoped you would find the same love and happiness I had found.
ALEX (very quietly): I was in love with someone at the time, sister.
Pause. Understanding begins to dawn on JEMIMA's face.
ALEX: Do you see where I'm going with this?
JEMIMA: Alex... are you trying to tell me what I think you're trying to tell me?
ALEX: That Tobias is to you what Fairfax was to me?
JEMIMA (slowly): You mean... but... but... (The full realisation hits) Oh.
She moves to embrace her brother.
JEMIMA: Come here. It's alright. It's... It's alright. I've got you.
ALEX: I'm sor—
JEMIMA: All this time... every fight? Every cruel word? (Holding him tighter) Well, don't I feel the perfect fool... How long?
ALEX: What?
JEMIMA: How long?
ALEX: Sister... … …
JEMIMA: I am owed that much at the very least.
ALEX: … … … Two years.
JEMIMA: Two years. (Processing) And I've been... what? Your unwitting accomplice? Your cover story?
ALEX: It wasn't like that—
JEMIMA: Wasn't it? (Beat) No wonder you both fought so convincingly. You had a lot of practice. (Another beat, then softer) You're both idiots. I hope you know that.
ALEX: … I know.
JEMIMA: And I'm still angry with you. In fact, I will be angry for some time.
ALEX: … … … He does love you, you know.
JEMIMA: Just not in the way I had hoped. (With new determination) I must speak with him. Where has he gone?
ALEX: I don't know.
JEMIMA: When did he leave?
ALEX: Around quarter past five.
JEMIMA (springing into action): Right then. You search the docks, I'll take the park.
ALEX: But...
JEMIMA: But nothing. Coat. Shoes. And smarten yourself up - your tie is crooked. No brother of mine is going to make a declaration of love with his neckwear askew. Mother and Father would be spinning in their graves if we hadn't had them cremated.
ALEX: Sister...
JEMIMA: Come along! Stop dragging your feet. Let's find Tobias before he goes and does himself a mischief.
ALEX (standing, moved): I love you. You know that, don't you?
JEMIMA (kissing his cheek): I love you too, you idiot. You know what's ironic? I spent all morning writing Mrs Penbrooke's advice column about "the importance of honesty in family relationships." She pays me to write wisdom she's never had to practice herself. Meanwhile, my own brother has been lying to me for two whole years.
They exit together with purpose.
=================================
SCENE III
The Dog and Duck public house. A modest establishment with warm lighting and a lived-in atmosphere. TOBIAS sits alone at the bar, nursing a drink. DENISE, the landlady, is a woman of middle years with a practical air and sharp wit. She wipes glasses while keeping an eye on her only customer.
DENISE: Another drink?
TOBIAS: Keep them coming. Though I must confess... I left without my wallet.
DENISE (dryly): That's what they all say. "I left my wallet." "I'll be right back." "I'm just popping out for milk." My father went out for milk when I was three. Never saw him again. Must have been a very distant shop. Either that, or he milked the cow himself.
TOBIAS: I never knew my father. Nor my mother.
DENISE: No?
TOBIAS: If I did, I lost them very early.
DENISE: How careless of you. You didn't end up in a handbag, did you?
TOBIAS: I didn't even have that luxury. All I had were the clothes on my back.
DENISE: A habit you seem to have continued. So... who were you getting milk for?
TOBIAS: I wasn't... (Pause) My flatmate. And my... partner.
DENISE: Lover's quarrel?
TOBIAS: Something like that. I'd prefer not to discuss it.
DENISE: Well, that's all very well, but it's dead quiet in here, and I'm bored senseless. So we either talk about your domestic situation, or I start on about the weather. And I tell you, the rain in Somerset last week was absolutely dreadful...
TOBIAS: It's finished now anyway. Even if I went back... things that were said can't be unsaid.
DENISE: Ah, the metaphorical tongue. Mightier than the sword or the pen, but cuts just as deep.
She continues polishing glasses thoughtfully.
DENISE: Let me tell you something. It may hurt now, in its rawest state, but with time, many of the wounds the tongue makes can be dressed, treated, and healed with proper attention.
TOBIAS: What if the words were justified?
DENISE: Were they?
TOBIAS (after consideration): My flatmate confessed love for me that I couldn't return. Because I am... was... in love with another. Someone related to them.
DENISE: Cousin? Sister? (With mock horror) Oh, it's not the mother, is it?
TOBIAS: No, nothing like that.
DENISE: Well, you can't be blamed for loving someone else. You don't owe that love to anyone - except perhaps to yourself. As a wise man once said, if you can't love yourself, how in hell are you going to love somebody else?
TOBIAS: I do love them, though. Just... not in the way they wanted.
DENISE: Have you told your flatmate that?
TOBIAS: Yes. It didn't go down well.
DENISE: In the moment, perhaps...
TOBIAS: And then the one I love arrived. Words were exchanged. Milk was spilt, metaphorically speaking.
DENISE: And you needed to go out for more.
TOBIAS: Precisely. (Quickly) Not that I'm calling you a cow.
DENISE (laughing): That's not what the other girls say about me.
TOBIAS: The trouble is, I don't know if I'd be welcome back.
DENISE: You live there.
TOBIAS: …
DENISE: Have you got somewhere to stay tonight?
TOBIAS: I have... a few friends, down at the docks.
DENISE: Not Sasha?
TOBIAS: You know Sash?
DENISE: She owes me money. Listen, I've got a room above the bar. Small, but you're a fairly small fellow.
TOBIAS: I can't pay...
DENISE: Can you wash dishes?
TOBIAS: I've washed a plate or two in my time.
DENISE: That makes you more qualified than my pot-boy. Dickin! (No response) Oh, that's right - I sent him to market for milk. I'll go fix up the room myself. You'll be alright on your own?
TOBIAS: Yes.
DENISE: I can fetch you a tissue if you feel like crying over your spilt milk.
TOBIAS: I have one, thank you.
DENISE: Tissue, but no wallet. Just my luck.
DENISE exits upstairs. TOBIAS sits alone with his thoughts.
******
After a moment, JEMIMA appears at the window, peering in. She recognises TOBIAS and enters.
JEMIMA: Tobias?
TOBIAS (looking up, surprised): Jemima?
JEMIMA: I was just returning from the park. Thought I recognised your coat through the window. May I join you?
TOBIAS: Of course.
She sits beside him. Both are quiet for a moment.
JEMIMA: You have appalling taste, you know. You could do far better than my brother. He's opinionated, loud, and he snores.
TOBIAS: So do you.
JEMIMA: When I snore, it's endearing.
TOBIAS: When I first moved in, I thought I was living next to Paddington Station.
JEMIMA (laughing despite herself): How rude! (More seriously) Sibling teasing aside... he's not terrible.
TOBIAS: I'm sorry, Jemima. For everything.
JEMIMA: So am I.
TOBIAS: I'd understand if you wanted me to move out.
JEMIMA: And endure the agony of finding a new flatmate? Absolutely not - it was misery the first time. Besides, I've grown rather fond of you. You already know that, of course. I won't pretend it won't be awkward at first, but I do love you. And knowing that you love me - however that may be - is enough for me to be content. Though I reserve the right to feel sorry for myself occasionally.
TOBIAS: Do you mean that?
JEMIMA: I do.
DENISE returns from upstairs.
DENISE: Can't find the spare bedding anywhere. Sorry about that - I'll sort it when Dickin returns. (Noticing JEMIMA) Oh, another customer! Here for a drink?
JEMIMA: Yes, two beers. On him. (To TOBIAS) Your wallet.
JEMIMA produces his wallet from her purse and places it down in front of him.
JEMIMA: You left it at home.
TOBIAS: Make it three beers - two for us and one for yourself.
DENISE: Well, aren't you generous! For that kindness, don't worry about the dishes.
JEMIMA: Dishes?
TOBIAS: I'll explain later.
DENISE busies herself with the drinks. JEMIMA and TOBIAS share a look of understanding.
After a moment, ALEX appears in the doorway, slightly out of breath.
JEMIMA: Alexander?
ALEX: Any luck?
JEMIMA: See for yourself.
ALEX (spotting TOBIAS): Tobias! I... oh, never mind all that. Come here!
TOBIAS rises uncertainly. ALEX embraces him tightly.
TOBIAS: Alex—
ALEX: I was terrified I'd lost you.
TOBIAS: I'm sorry I worried you.
JEMIMA: Right. I'm going back to the bar. You have exactly ten minutes to sort this out. If you're not still in a heartfelt embrace by the time I finish my beer, I’m knocking your heads together myself. I refuse to let this day end with two miserable men staring at their drinks in silence—this isn’t a Beckett play.
She moves to the bar where DENISE pretends not to be listening.
ALEX: I thought I'd lost you forever. I searched everywhere. No one had seen you. I was...
TOBIAS: You told Jemima about us.
ALEX: Yes.
TOBIAS: Does this mean you want us to be open about our relationship?
ALEX: It will take time, but... yes. Because I love you, Tobias.
TOBIAS: We have thyme. Lots of it. We keep it in the pantry with the rosemary.
ALEX: That makes sense. Jemima always gave sage advice growing up. When I actually listened to her.
TOBIAS: I love you, too, Alexander.
They embrace again as JEMIMA watches from the bar with satisfaction, taking a sip from her beer.
JEMIMA (to herself): Well... This wasn't the ending I wrote, but perhaps it's the one I needed.
JEMIMA begins to remove coins from TOBIAS's wallet.
DENISE: Don't worry about paying.
JEMIMA: You sure?
DENISE: Yeah... … … You've all given me a great story to tell the girls on Monday.
JEMIMA: Hmm. That sounds like a fair trade. Tell you what, why don't I fill you in with more of the details? I bet he didn't even tell you about what happened with Mrs Penbrooke's periodical.
DENISE: Anita Penbrooke?
JEMIMA: Yes.
DENISE: Small world. I used to work for her years ago. Kitchen maid. Before I saved enough to buy this place. Complicated woman. Brilliant, but couldn't write a grocery list without someone else holding the pen. Not because she couldn't. But because she didn't want to. You're the ghost writer, aren't you?
JEMIMA: How did you know?
DENISE: The way you talk. Like someone who spends all day putting other people's thoughts into proper sentences. Plus, Anita mentioned she'd found "a clever girl with a good turn of phrase." That'd be you.
JEMIMA: Wow. Small world indeed. Ha. You know, it's the strangest thing. I've been writing advice about love and relationships for months, but I never applied any of it to my own life.
DENISE: What sort of advice?
JEMIMA: "A woman's worth isn't determined by her romantic attachments." "True happiness comes from knowing oneself, not from being known by another." That kind of stuff.
DENISE: Sounds like good sense to me.
JEMIMA: Yes, well... turns out it's easier to write wisdom than to live it.
DENISE: It so often is. (sighs) It so often is.
End of Play
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