Humble Boy by Charlotte Jones Page A

) We’re a chair short, Flora. ( She waits for a response. There is no response. She sighs, looks around and sees the gardening chair that Jim sat on earlier. She brings it over to the table. It is considerably shorter than the other chairs. ) That’ll do for me.
    Then she tastes the soup. She wrinkles her face, indicating that the soup needs something. She spots the ashes, which are now next to the salt cellar on the table. First of all she adds a little salt. Then she takes the lid off the honey-pot and sees what she thinks is pepper. She takes a sprinkle and adds it to the soup. She tastes again. She is still not sure. She adds a bigger handful. She tastes. She is more pleased.
    George enters. He looks dapper. He carries flowers and a bottle of champagne. He comes up behind Mercy and pinches her bum. Mercy is absolutely delighted. She is obviously infatuated with George.
    George    There she is, the little corker!
    Mercy    George!
    George    Looks delicious.
    Mercy    Gazpacho. Although I held back on the pimentos. I’m worried it hasn’t got enough zing.
    George    Gazpacho! Where did you learn to make that?
    Mercy    Oh, I just followed a –
    George    Don’t tell me, Spanish Civil War?
    Mercy    What?
    George    Don’t try and fool me. I can see through the innocent act, Mercy Lott. You were out there with Franco, giving it some.
    Mercy giggles, hits him playfully. She revels in this attention.
    Mercy    ( laughing ) You know I’ve hardly even been outside the Cotswolds.
    George    Balls! We’ve got a little red under the bed, haven’t we? She’s only small but she’s at the nub of things. Cuban Missile Crisis. Fall of the Berlin Wall. There she is in the background, waving. Cooee!
    Mercy    You do tickle me, really you do.
    George    Where’s the main girl?
    Mercy    Inside making the salad. I did the starter and the pudding. To help Flora out, you know. I’ve done my fig tart.
    George    Well, bugger me.
    Mercy giggles.
    I hope you’re not intent on giving us all the trots.
    Mercy laughs.
    Mercy    No. Although I say it myself I think it’s quite a good one. I added a little twist, marinated the figs in honey and thyme.
    George    I’d better go in to her.
    Mercy    Oh yes, listen to me wittering on.
    He claps his hands together and rubs them gleefully.
    George    I’m looking forward to this. ( He goes to go. )
    Mercy    George – don’t you think it will rain? I said to Flora that it wouldn’t because she’s cross, you know, at it not being sunny, but I think it might.
    George    Nothing is going to spoil this day. Where’s Little Lord Fauntleroy?
    Mercy    He’s getting changed.
    George    So he’s going to make an effort, then?
    Mercy    Oh, I think so.
    George    He’d better keep his arse in check, or there’ll be hell to pay.
    Flora enters behind them. She looks immaculate.
    George    My chérie, look at you, I could eat you up.
    Mercy    ( a little forced ) Leave some room for my fig tart.
    George    Bunny girl.
    He ignores Mercy, embraces Flora, kisses her hand. Mercy looks away, embarrassed.
    Mercy    Those black clouds are blowing over now.
    Flora    We’re not going to have any upset today. We’re going to be civilised. Felix has told me he’s going to behave and so will you.
    George    I’m always civilised. ( He hands her the flowers. )
    Flora    Thank you. ( She smells them. She looks momentarily troubled. )
    George    What is it?
    Mercy    Shall I put them in a vase for you?
    Flora    Yes. And give Felix a shout, will you?
    Mercy exits.
    I don’t know why she