Charles puts the toilet roll down next to Bert’s case. Bert tokes on the pipe and settles back on to the bed. Charles puts his hands in his pockets and paces around, every now and then looking over at Bert. Bert is now nodding in and out of consciousness.

Charles    Are you all right, Mr Kowalski?

Long pause.

Bert    Kinda shit did you do back in England, Charlie?

Charles    Sorry?

Bert    Work. What kinda work ya do? There ain’t blue blood in those little veins of yours . . . you ain’t like fucken royalty or shit back there, are ya?

Charles (bowing his head)     Oh no . . . no. Nothing like that! Although I did have a position as a gardener at the Royal Gardens in Kew.

Bert picks up the pipe and package.

Bert    . . . thought I could be in the presence of fucken royalty . . . you just never know nowadays . . . Could you . . . put these back in my case, Charlie . . . put these back in my
case . . .

Charles climbs up on to the bed and picks up the pipe as Bert nods off.

We heard thumping and shuffling noises as the door opens. Raymond – late forties, American, well spoken, well dressed, holding a large case, stands at the threshold.

Offstage, we hear the voice again.

Booming male voice (off)     In there, little fella, try not to get up to any mischief.

Charles cowers in fear of the voice but Raymond looks up evenly at its source.

Raymond    If I were four feet taller I’d take you outside and give you a damn good thrashing, young man.

Booming male voice (off)     Ha, ha, ha. Hey, Harry, we got a funny dwarf here. Take me outside, ha, ha, ha.

Raymond puts the case on the bed. Then he pulls in another large leather bag and closes the door. He stares at Bert and Charles. Charles climbs off the bed with the instruments.

Raymond    Philistines!

Charles (offering his hand)     Charles Merryweather, London, England.

He notices Raymond staring at the pipe. He starts to pack the instruments into Bert’s case.

Poor Mr Kowalski suffers from a bronchial complaint.

Raymond shakes his head and wanders around the room, still holding his case.

Raymond    And you’re his nurse, right?

Charles (heading over to him)     I see what you mean, no, I’m a Munchkin like you.

Raymond glares at Charles, goes over to a bed and throws his bag up on it.

Raymond    Four beds. Any other ‘ailments’ I should know about?

Charles (offering his hand again)     Charles Merryweather, London, England.

Raymond (shaking hands)     Benedict-Porter. Raymond.

Raymond’s grip is strong and Charles winces a little.

Charles    Pleased to meet you Mr Ben-ah, Mr Por . . . um, which do you prefer?

As they break grip he rubs his hand.

Raymond    Both, but Raymond will suffice.

Charles    Raymond? Excellent . . . Charles or Charlie, I don’t have a preference. My friends call me Charles or Charlie. I really don’t mind. Whichever you prefer, Mr . . . ah . . . Raymond.