Act I
A railway station. A hat.
Mr. Brown sits on a bench. He is trying to open a pot of marmalade. He gives up, exhausted, tries again.
Enter Mrs. Brown.
MR. BROWN: Nothing to be done.
MRS. BROWN: You always say that. Yet you always resume the struggle. (Pause) It’s the vacuum.
MR. BROWN: The what?
MRS. BROWN: The vacuum. From the Latin for “empty.” At the top of the jar, beneath the lid. A void.
MR. BROWN (pausing in his efforts, staring into space): Vack-yooom.
MRS. BROWN (pointing at the hat, which lies on the ground): Whose is that?
MR. BROWN: That what?
MRS. BROWN: That hat.
MR. BROWN (finally looking at it): Oh, that hat. (Pause) Search me.
MRS. BROWN: I would rather not. I hate to think what I might find.
Mr. Brown tries to open the marmalade, fails again. Gives up, places the jar on the bench beside him.
MR. BROWN: Let’s go.
MRS. BROWN: We can’t.
MR. BROWN: Why not?
MRS. BROWN: We’re waiting for Paddington.
MR. BROWN (despairingly): Ah! (Pause) Where did he go?
MRS. BROWN: Darkest Peru.
MR. BROWN (staring into space): Perr-ooo.
MRS. BROWN: To see his Aunt Lucy.
MR. BROWN: Looo-seee—
MRS. BROWN: Shut up. (Pause) He always said she was too much to bear. (Pause) I think it was a joke.
They do not laugh. Enter Porter, pushing a cart, on which a suitcase sits. Porter reads the label on the suitcase.
PORTER: “Please look after this bear. Thank you.” (He looks around.) What bear?
MR. BROWN (grimly, with a ghost of a smile): Too much to bear.
MRS. BROWN: Too much to be borne.
MR. BROWN: Better not to be born.
PORTER: What?
MRS. BROWN (brightening slightly): Bear in mind—
Enter Q, in a laboratory coat, carrying a fountain pen in one hand and a revolver in the other. Raises the pen and points it at the Browns.
Q (flatly): Bang.
Consternation. Mrs. Brown ducks behind the bench. Mr. Brown jumps aboard the cart. The jar of marmalade falls off the bench and rolls along the floor. Q takes a deep breath.
Q: Pay attention double O seven double your money no object lesson in love and fear the Lord God Almighty rumpussy galore unto myself the name’s Bond Michael Bond I will have my Bond O James good morning Moneypenny for your thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears the meanest flower that Blofeld her lips against mine me fa solace not a quantum ti tum not I spy who loved the living daylights never say never dies for your eyes only live twice and let die another happy day thou gavest Lord is ended the darkest Peru . . . dark at the edge of the skyfall that fall of the great trouble white world is not enough not a sound of footfalls foul and fair a day I have not seen the glory of the coming man with the golden gung ho worstward wish for . . . wish or . . . (puzzled now) double O . . . O.H.M.S.S. . . . D.B.5 . . . M . . . Q. (Pause) E.D.
PORTER: What?
Silence. Enter Paddington. He lifts a paw to raise his hat in greeting, only to realize that he has no hat. Crestfallen. Looks around, spies the hat. Picks it up, puts it on, then raises it as intended. Only now does Mr. Brown recognize him.
MR. BROWN (standing up on the cart): Paddington!
Paddington, delighted, runs toward Mr. Brown. He trips on the fallen pot of marmalade, cannons into the porter, who is impelled to thrust the cart forward. Mr. Brown falls off it, knocking over Q, who knocks over the bench, which knocks over Mrs. Brown, who gives a resounding cry. The suitcase falls from the cart, bursts open to reveal jars of marmalade, some of which spill their contents. Q’s gun goes off. The cart speeds offstage. Whistle of a train, grinding of brakes, terrible sound of an impact, screams. Slowly they fade. The characters pick themselves up. Mrs. Brown holds out her arms to Paddington in the hope of an embrace. None is forthcoming. Arms drop to her sides.
MRS. BROWN (to Paddington): You came. We weren’t expecting you.
PADDINGTON (no expression whatever): Godot couldn’t make it.
Porter frowns. Q takes a small notebook from his pocket and writes something in it with his fountain pen.
MRS. BROWN (trying to bring cheer): Well, let’s take you home and clean you up. The children are looking forward to seeing you. We should be there in time for tea. There’s plenty of . . . (tails off, looks around her at the chaos) marmalade.
MR. BROWN: Well, shall we go?
They do not move.
Curtain. ♦
