BARNEY: [on the phone] Have to speed it up, Sam, with the details—yeh—

He turns away, and EMMA switches her attentionto the others, giving vent to her outrage.

EMMA: I left Bubba here to tell them where to put it—in the kitchen, I said. Or the passage. Last place that I wanted it was in here—goin’ to have a word with that Maurie.

She moves to grab and open her handbag.

Money that he’s gettin’ for his cut, the least that he can do is get it right.

ROO: You’re payin’ him? That joker?

EMMA: ’Course I’m payin’ him.

ROO: Under the lap?

EMMA: [rummaging through her bag] How else would I get a telephone, a place like this? But they’re not gunna leave it stuck here in the front room, where it can be used by every— [To BARNEY] You’ve had your minute with the Morrises. You get off now.

BARNEY: Okay, okay. [On the phone] Sam, gunna have to fix this up some other time. I’m gettin’ chop-chop here… Yeh, ring you again real soon.

BARNEY puts down the receiver.

EMMA: Not on that telephone you won’t. [Extracting a page of paper from her handbag] It’s for business only. People that I have to keep in touch with.

BARNEY steps back, giving access to the handset.

BARNEY: Righto. Business only—go ahead.

EMMA: Mister Bromige, first of all. [Smoothing out the page] Let him know that it’s been put on. And I want it shifted out into the kitchen. He can make that Maurie at the Telegraphs do a decent job.

BARNEY: Yeh. Well— [a wave of permission] —in the meantime—

EMMA: Coming here while I was out, and thinkin’ they can—

She has paused before the telephone, caught by a sudden trepidation.

BARNEY: What’s the matter?

EMMA: Nothin’.

BARNEY: You do know how to use it, don’t you?

EMMA: [her eyes on the handset] Uh?

BARNEY: The phone?

EMMA: ’Course I do.

She places the slip of paper beside the handset, and her fingers hover over the receiver for a moment, then withdraw.

It’s just that I’m a bit—

She massages her fingers nervously as though about to play the piano.

—upset. All the runnin’ round to get it put on, and the—money that it’s cost—

BARNEY: You want me to help you?

EMMA: Well—wouldn’t want to get the wrong number. Make a mess of it first time—

NANCY: Barney.

BARNEY: No. ’S okay. I don’t mind. [Coming forward to pick up the receiver] I’ll get the number for you. That’ll help, won’t it?

EMMA: Yes.

ROO: [interposing] Cut it out now.

BARNEY: Get her off to a good start. Look— [passing the slip of paper to EMMA] —you read out the number, and I’ll dial it. Okay? What’s the gen?

EMMA: J, A…

BARNEY: [dialling] J, A…

EMMA: Five, eight…