ACT ONE
MRS KLEIN is sorting through old papers. PAULA is listening.
MRS KLEIN. Itās quite incredible what one keeps.
Tears up a photograph. Finds a piece of paper.
This is a poem he wrote.
Reads it.
Excuse me.
She cries. Holds her hand out. PAULA takes it. MRS KLEIN slowly stops crying.
I think thatās it till next time. So: our coffee should be ready. Youāll have some?
PAULA. Thank you.
MRS KLEIN. Now, whatās this?
PAULA. Iāve brought you something.
Itās a cake box.
MRS KLEIN. But, my dear, you shouldnāt have spent your money. No, donāt tell me.
Opens it.
Paula, this is most intuitive of you. Poppy-seed cake, no reason you should know this, was my motherās speciality.
Gives PAULA the poem.
You can read this.
She goes out. PAULA reads. MRS KLEIN comes back with coffee. Pours.
Iām in a very adequate state, all things considered. I cough a lot but then Iām smoking more. I sleep enough, not much. I have my knock-out drops if I should need them but Iām holding off so far. No dreams, which is unusual for me. Normally Iām an active, colourful dreamer. Now, each night, the show is cancelled. Most annoying. Milk?
PAULA. Thank you.
MRS KLEIN. Youāre welcome. Chiefly what I feel is numbness. Here inside. As though some vital part of me had been removed. The tears donāt help. All they do is make a thorough nuisance of themselves. And then they stop and leave me feeling exactly as I did before. Remote. Closed up. And dead. Youāll have some cake?
PAULA. Yes, thank you.
MRS KLEIN. So: my work goes on. I read, I write, I entertain a few old friends, I see my patients. Clear a space. Iām on my own today. My cleaning woman has a family crisis in Southend. Or so she says. The truth is that she needs a break from my unnatural calm. And so do I. But there we are, I may not like it but Iām stuck with it. I donāt know why. I donāt have insight into my emotions, not just now. Some other time. So: eat.
They do.
But why no dreams? No, thatās enough about me. The poem, you read it?
PAULA. Yes.
MRS KLEIN. So tell me.
PAULA. It was written when he was young.
MRS KLEIN. He was. He was a boy, he was fifteen.
PAULA. Itās a love poem. Though the woman seems older than him. Who was she?
MRS KLEIN. I doubt she ever existed. Not in life. Though, to my son, of course, she breathed, she moved, she comforted. She was the mother.
PAULA. Yes, I see.
MRS KLEIN. She was myself.
She takes back the poem.
Iām very grateful that you could come at such short notice. I would like you to do some work for me while Iām away.
PAULA. What kind of work?
MRS KLEIN. Youāre not too busy?
PAULA. No.
MRS KLEIN. Thank God, thank God! Have some more cake.
PAULA. No, thank you.
MRS KLEIN has some more.
MRS KLEIN. Iām famished. Iāve been eating scraps. Cheese on toast, sardines on toast, ridiculous. And so this morning I got up and cooked myself a hearty British breakfast. Then I looked at it. Then I gave it to the Pekinese.
PAULA looks round for it.
Heās not here now. Heāll be living the life of Riley for the next ten days, in kennels, up by Primrose Hill. He wonāt be bothering you. His name is Nanki-Poo. A wandering minstrel, he. You know your Gilbert and Sullivan?
PAULA. When you say he wonāt be bothering me ā ?
MRS KLEIN. Quite so. Let me explain.
A set of keys.
These are my spare keys to the front door. My cleaning woman has her own. Keys to the rooms upstairs, my bedroom, my consulting room, Iām putting somewhere safe. Sheāll tell you if you ask, but for emergencies. She says sheāll water the plants. If you could watch the window boxes. Let me see.
Her notebook.
PAULA. Iām sorry. Do you want me to / look after the house?
MRS KLEIN. Thereās more to come. I made a list. I felt compelled to. And this in itself is strange, because my memoryās good. I woke at four oāclock this morning, wondering, āWhat am I making lists for, is there perhaps some paranoiac aspect to it?ā but I couldnāt think it through at that hour. Iāve stopped the milk. Iāve stopped The Times, Iāve stopped the Daily Mail. The central heating has instructions pinned above it. Sunny is with my daughter. Sunny is the car, the Sunbeam. Make of it what you will. Food is in the fridge, and when you leave at night, please check the windows and, of course, the door. Now, is there anything else domestic? Good.
PAULA. When you say, āleave at nightā, / do you mean thatā¦?
MRS KLEIN. If I could do my list? And questions after.
At the desk.
Letters here. Periodicals here. Messages on this pad.
Letters.
These I would appreciate your posting for me.
A pin box.
Iāve left some money here for odd expenses and your travel. I wonāt feel happy otherwise. Iāll worry that youāre feeling in some way imposed upon. So spend it freely. Here. Five shillings. Good, thatās settled.
Another letter.
This, I donāt know what to do with. It arrived this morning. Marked, āTo await returnā. It comes from Dr Schmideberg. I donāt like it. I donāt even like the envelope. It looks as though itās about to burst with hostile matter. This is what professional enemies are like. Theyāre vampires. Theyāre dependent. They want love. And so they nag and pester. Should I read it? Should I throw it away? If I throw it away, can I blame the post? Iāllā¦ No, I canāt decide.
She puts it down.
At such a time I donāt deserve to be so persecuted. Next. The proofs.
PAULA. The proofs?
MRS KLEIN. You know the system?
PAULA. If you tell me what it is that you / want, Iāll do what Iā¦
MRS KLEIN. Fine, come look.
Proofs on the desk.
Youāve read the book?
PAULA. Of course, I ā
MRS KLEIN. I knew you would have. This will be the second German-language edition.
A book.
This is the first. There are some misprints which Iāve put a ring round. So you must check both. Iāve marked in pencil where I want revisions.
Notes.
These are they. This arrow goes back, then skip, then on, yes?
Another book.
Some revisions, though not all, are in the second English edition, here.
A dictionary.
English-German, German-English.
Manuscript.
Hereās the new chapter. So you must watch the numbering.
Another manuscript.
This is the foreword. Do you type?
PAULA. Two fingers.
MRS KLEIN. Likewise. Three copies. Carbon here. You understand?
PAULA. Yes.
MRS KLEIN. Sure?
PAULA. Quite sure. When is the copy date?
MRS KLEIN. Forget the copy date, itās weeks ago, I want them posted to Vienna first post Wednesday at the latest.
PAULA. Fine. Iāll show you what Iāve done on Tuesday.
MRS...