Reading Of The Will

A one-act play for the Duncan Rand Festival

 
ARTHUR AMBROSE: (40, deceased) The Husband, As it turns out not as loyal as he could have been.

FLORENCE AMBROSE: (40) The Wife, living in the expectation that she is going to inherit it all!!!

LAURA MEDDOWES: (35) The Mistress, who is set to divest her of that hope.

MR. TOBIAS CRAWFORD: (57) The Lawyer who is trying to run the ceremony.

 

 
Arthur Ambrose (does not appear in the play): A ruthless businessman with ambitions that extend well beyond his retirement, even his death. Through a combination of luck and a lot of skill, he has built an extremely capable technology manufacturing company (Arthur Ambrose Automata, or "Triple-A"), that can produce automata of any complexity. In order that this enterprise shall not go down with its captain, he has married Florence, in the hope that she will produce a few healthy and capable heirs. She has not done so in time, and now she must go. By whatever means are most efficient. A true psychopath as many corporate leaders are, he is incapable of feeling love, though he can convincingly play the role of beleaguered husband.

 
Florence Ambrose: On first sight, she may be a trophy wife. While she is a housewife, she is the manager of a three-million-pound mansion somewhere in Suffolk, with a complement of personnel (butler, maids, cook, cabin boy...) and is well able to support Arthur in his endeavors. Skeldale House has been host to many of the leaders of Industry. Lavish dinners, followed by discreet meetings with cigars and fine brandy. She recognises her role in the Great Work, but sadly she is not able to conceive. She is unflinchingly loyal to Arthur, and so is deeply unimpressed with the appearance of...

 
Laura Meddowes: One of her firm's star accountants. Competent, attractive, confident, compassionate. Arthur's eye fell on her, and he decided to recruit her to his cause. He did so by subtly suggesting to her through vague hints, anomalies in the books, that his wife is a millstone round his neck, and does nothing but belittle him and make outrageous demands. The strategy worked. Laura loathes Florence. She is not at all loath to take a good chunk of Arthur's money away from her.

 
Tobias Crawford: A senior lawyer at Crawford, Crawford and Harris. Has tried several times to retire, but his clients won't let him because he is just too good. He is managing the probate of Triple A and Arthur Ambrose. This is not turning out to be the most tranquil of jobs as the Wife and the Mistress seem all but ready to start a fistfight in his very office. Well capable of managing a multi-million-pound estate, he guides the Ladies through the procedure with a steady hand. Or would, if they would only let him.

 

 
The welcome help of Mr. Toby Harris is gratefully acknowledged. Without it, my legalese would have fallen flat, and the disbelief, rather than being willingly suspended, would have come crashing down.

 

 
Manila folder containing the will

Tea set - Pot, tea light, milk, sugar.

Notepad, pen.

Two briefcases/bags for FLORENCE and LAURA.

Fur coat and seal ring for FLORENCE

Credit card for FLORENCE

Gravestone for ARTHUR

Copy of the Financial Times.

 
Set: Lawyer's office, Crawford, Crawford, and Harris.

Desk for CRAWFORD, three chairs.

 
Set: Cafe.

Small table, two chairs.

 
Set: Cemetery.

Gravestone. No flowers.

 

 
SOUND: Theme music, announcement.

 
SCENE: CRAWFORD's office. Crawford is reading papers, making occasional notes. The door bell sounds. CRAWFORD answers it, and FLORENCE enters.

 
CRAWFORD: Ah, Mrs. Ambrose. Please come in and accept my condolences for your sad loss. May I offer you some tea?

FLORENCE: (Takes off coat, hands it to CRAWFORD). Yes please. Milk, two sugars.

CRAWFORD: ( Pours tea, adds milk ) And two lumps. Here you are.

FLORENCE: Thank you (stirs, sips). Well, here I am indeed. I am puzzled as to why, though. This should be a straightforward affair. Could you not have simply sent me the will?

CRAWFORD: (Pours himself tea) Formalities must be observed, Mrs. Ambrose. Things are rarely as simple as they appear to the... client.

FLORENCE: (Raises hands) "Everything goes to my wife." Is it really more complicated than that?

CRAWFORD: Ahh... I'm afraid I'm not quite at liberty yet to discuss such matters until.. (The bell rings.) Pardon me.

 
CRAWFORD Gets up and answers the door. LAURA is shown in. FLORENCE casts an appraising eye.

 
FLORENCE: A new secretary, Crawford? I don't believe we've met.

CRAWFORD: This is Miss Laura Meddowes. Please have a seat, Miss Meddowes, and we can begin. Tea?

LAURA: (Sits down, polite nod) Thank you. Yes please.

CRAWFORD: (Pours cup of tea, adds milk)

FLORENCE: (Glares at Laura) Who is this, Crawford?

LAURA: Laura Meddowes how do you do. And you must be Mrs. Ambrose. (Holds out hand, which FLORENCE ignores)

FLORENCE: Crawford? What is this woman doing here?

CRAWFORD: She is here because Arthur added her to his will as a beneficiary.

FLORENCE: Nonsense! I have all of his wills. I would have noticed a... a blonde showing up in it.

CRAWFORD: I believe that will was dated October last year. The one I have here is dated just a month ago.

FLORENCE: Why don't I know of this Crawford?

CRAWFORD: I can only speculate. (Opens will) Shall we begin?

LAURA: Please.

 
CRAWFORD: Since Arthur's death was officially ruled accidental by the Police, there will be very few complications.

FLORENCE: Thank goodness. The last thing we need is more surprises.

CRAWFORD: Indeed. (Reading) I, Arthur Ambrose of Skeldale House Willowshire, being of sound mind and body, revoke all former testamentary dispositions made by me and declare this to be my last will and testament. I declare my solicitors, Crawford, Crawford, and Harris to be my executors. Since there are no beneficiaries alive yet under the age of eighteen, no trustees or guardians are appointed. (Looks at the ladies) All routine. Any questions so far?

FLORENCE: Are you sure this is legitimate? I was never told of this new will.

CRAWFORD: That is not a requirement, I'm afraid. As long as there are signatures from the testator and of two witnesses who were there when Arthur signed, and who then signed, all is in order. This is Arthur Ambrose's last will. It is, as we say, "Regular on the face."

FLORENCE: Oh but not on my face, Crawford. I have my suspicions as to how this... (Looks at Laura) person inveigled her way into Arthur's will.

LAURA: You're not thinking of contesting it are you? It would be quicker and easier just to hand the entire estate to the lawyers.

FLORENCE: Do you think you can simply charm your way into a fat paycheck? You bet your fake tits I'll contest it.

LAURA: Oh I won't take that bet. Mine are more expensive than yours.

FLORENCE: I don't have the need to have my ego inflated, dear.

LAURA: No you don't. (Smiles) The need would be Arthur's rather than anyone else's.

FLORENCE: Did he pay for them?

LAURA: (Sighs, looks at FLORENCE and decides the joke is getting old.) No he didn't. As a matter of fact, I grew them myself. Some of us are gifted by kind Mother Nature with all the necessities, Mrs. Ambrose.

CRAWFORD: Splendid. May I continue? Thank you. There is a list here of assets in the estate of Mr. Arthur Ambrose at the time of his passing, of which the lion part is a sixty percent interest in stocks of Arthur Ambrose Automata, worth seventy-three million pounds, assorted stocks in other companies, twenty-five million pounds, the matrimonial home, three million, various bank accounts domestic and foreign totalling fifteen to seventeen million pounds, depending on fluctuations in exchange rates.

LAURA: Sixteen point two million last week.

FLORENCE: How do you know that?

LAURA: My firm does Triple A's business accounting, Mrs. Ambrose. You may have seen the name on the invoices. The rates are high enough to feature on the financial overviews.

FLORENCE: And I'm sure Arthur got his money's worth. So it was you, then. Working late, as Arthur put it.

LAURA: On occasion, yes. Preparing the quarterlies. There is always something that needs fixing.

FLORENCE: And if there isn't?

CRAWFORD: Ladies. Interesting as this may be... (He is roundly ignored)

LAURA: He would find something that needed fixing. He always seemed so reluctant to go home. (bite in her voice) Why would a man prefer a night drinking coffee and poring over columns of figures to going home to his loving and devoted wife, Mrs. Ambrose?

FLORENCE: That would depend on the company, wouldn't it?

LAURA: Is there something you wish to know, Mrs. Ambrose?

FLORENCE: Is there something you wish to tell me, Miss... miss... (looks at CRAWFORD)

CRAWFORD: Meddowes.

FLORENCE: Miss Meddowes?

LAURA: Arthur lived for Triple A. No effort too great. No work too hard. No decision too difficult. No day too long. I am no lightweight when it comes to long hours, Mrs. Ambrose. But even I could not keep up with him. (Picks up her teacup, sees it is empty, puts it down again with some force.) But every single time the day was done, I knew that for him, the day was far from over. He would have to face you.

FLORENCE: What?

LAURA: You. Complaining about the credit limit on your card. Demanding more. Accusing him of neglecting you. All those snide little remarks in front of your friends. "All the little things he does for me?" Telling his friends he is "batting for the other team," and then pretending you don't know what that expression means? And you expect him to come home to that with a smile on his face?

FLORENCE: I don't know who you have been talking to, but those are lies.

LAURA: Arthur told me. Eventually. When finally he could not keep it to himself any longer and broke down right in front of me.

FLORENCE: You are lying. Are you lying just to me, or to yourself as well?

LAURA: 6545 2396 1548 1994 (Numbers don't matter, just rattle them off like you are intimately familiar with them. Remember the last four.). That is your credit card number. (points) That coat. Fifty grand at Mayfair. (points again) That ring. Sixty two grand at Tiffany. I have the receipts, Mrs. Ambrose.

FLORENCE: That coat, Miss Meddowes, was my mother's, and she gave it to me on her deathbed to remember her by. I have never worn another. (holds up hand) This ring bears my father's family seal, and Bloody Tiffany does not carry that. I got it long before I even met Arthur. Me? Squander his money? Ruin his reputation? Are you out of your mind?

I was Arthur's wife. I did all the things expected of a wife, and more. Kept him clothed, fed, and yes, happy. The only thing I did not do was bear him the children he wanted, but that was not for lack of trying. How you got it into your head that I was some ungrateful harpy, I don't know. Wishful thinking perhaps?

 
CRAWFORD: (Knocks on the table) Ladies, ladies please. If you feel the need to scratch each other's eyes out, would you please choose another occasion to do it? We are here to read Mr. Arthur Ambrose's will. Unless you would like to adjourn?

FLORENCE: (Last glare at LAURA) Please continue.

CRAWFORD: (Looks at LAURA)

LAURA: Please.

CRAWFORD: Well then. Disposition. (Reads) I hereby declare that the main beneficiaries are my wife Florence Ambrose, my dear friend Laura Meddowes and any of her issue.

LAURA: (Laughs wryly to herself) "Issue."

CRAWFORD: Any of your children, grandchildren, and so forth, Miss Meddowes.

LAURA: I know the term, Mr. Crawford.

FLORENCE: I see "issue" is not mentioned for me, obviously. Will there be any "issue?"

LAURA: No.

CRAWFORD: (Raises voice slightly) Secondary beneficiaries include the World Wildlife foundation, Unicef, Amnesty International, Medecins sans frontieres, and the Xaviera Hill pet and wildlife sanctuary.

LAURA: (Snorts with laughter)

FLORENCE: Something funny?

LAURA: Let's just say that the meaning of the words "Pet" and "Wildlife" are not what one might assume.

FLORENCE: English, darling. Do you speak it?

LAURA: (Looks at FLORENCE) It's a whorehouse.

FLORENCE: Oh. Past or present employer?

LAURA: Occasional consultant. The repute of that house may be ill, but their tax records are impeccable, if I say so myself. I assume Arthur remembers them in his will because of the many happy hours he spent there.

FLORENCE: Until he met you, of course.

LAURA: (Looks away, eyeroll) Mrs. Ambrose. Florence. The answer you are looking for is yes. That desk of his is marvellously sturdy, but not designed for lying down on. We got smudges all over the monthly reports. Had to print them out all over again. It was worth it finally to see him smile, though. (Private look at CRAWFORD) About twenty units. I didn't bill him for it. Sloppy, I know.

CRAWFORD: Not a mistake I will make, Miss Meddowes. My rates are the same whether you wish to use my services to learn the dispositon of Arthur's estate, or work out your interpersonal issues. The choice is yours.

LAURA: You are billing her, aren't you?

CRAWFORD: I am billing the estate. That means you both. (Small amused smirk) And Madam Xaviera as well.

FLORENCE: Get on with it, Crawford.

CRAWFORD: Are we all sure?

LAURA: Please continue.

CRAWFORD: Very well then. (Reads) The major assets. The matrimonial home I leave to my wife, Florence Ambrose. The Bentley I leave to Miss Meddowes, hoping she will make proper use of it...

LAURA: (laughs quietly, but says nothing)

CRAWFORD: Of the shares, bank accounts, and other assets, then subject to Inheritance Tax I leave sixty percent to my wife, forty to Miss Meddowes. In the event that my wife dies before me, all assets will be left to Miss Meddowes.

FLORENCE: Why do I suddenly feel there is a target on my back?

CRAWFORD: (Smiles) One of the guilty pleasures in probate is lining up all the client's loved ones and shooting them. May I? Thank you. (Reads) If any of the aforementioned should fail, their share will be bestowed on any surviving beneficiaries proportionally.

FLORENCE: Surviving beneficiaries? That would be either her or me, unless you have more surprises. Do you, Crawford?

CRAWFORD: Theoretically, if Miss Meddowes were to have conceived in Arthur's lifetime, her children, when born, would inherit in her place in the event of her death. We use the phrase en ventre sa mêre. Which is funny really. We lawyers tend to prefer Latin to old French when we want to impress. But that is not relevant here. You are not pregnant, are you Miss Meddowes?

LAURA: No. Not... (shakes head) No.

FLORENCE: (hard stare) Not anymore? Is that what you were going to say?

LAURA: (coldly) I am not at this time pregnant, Mrs. Ambrose. That should suffice.

FLORENCE: Are you saying that Arthur actually got you pregnant?

 

LAURA considers a moment whether it is more strategically advantageous to tell FLORENCE to get stuffed, and maybe have it forced out of her later, or just to come clean now. Decides on the latter.

 
LAURA: (Voice shaking.) Not... not intentionally, I think, but... yes.

FLORENCE: (Leans over) Where's the bump, Laura? Or did you think in the circumstances you could afford a nanny?

LAURA: Nature would not allow events to proceed to that stage. Six weeks in, I miscarried.

FLORENCE: (Sadistic glee) So you are the little engine that couldn't either?

LAURA: (Coldly) It would appear so.

FLORENCE: Did he promise you he'd divorce me and marry you? You do have rather nice child-bearing hips. The perfect incubator. He must have been so disappointed.

LAURA: He made no such promise to me. As I am sure you have often told Arthur, divorcing you would be expensive.

FLORENCE: I could not bear him children. (Looks at Crawford) That makes it... easier, doesn't it?

CRAWFORD: With the caveat that divorce law is not my area of expertise, no it would not. Infertility is no ground for divorce.

FLORENCE: What about infidelity?

CRAWFORD: (little chuckle) One cannot use one's own affair as ground for a divorce. That I am sure of.

LAURA: Do you really think I want to be Arthur's replacement for you? Do you really think I would give up two, maybe even three important years of my career just to bear him a few healthy heirs? I didn't plan for this! A few hours of healthy enjoyable exercise, that's all it was. That's all it was supposed to be. (Gestures at tummy.) This was an accident.

FLORENCE: Accident... (Stares into space for a few moments, then slowly looks back) How much do you think my opulent collection of luxuries is worth?

LAURA: You don't even know that?

FLORENCE: Answer the question, Laura. Give me a number. You are good with numbers, aren't you? Give me one.

LAURA: In total, approximately seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds, of which five hundred in jewellery, two hundred in designer clothes, fifty in fuck-me shoes.

FLORENCE: That is ridiculous. I have one jewellery box of rings, necklaces, and earrings, some silver, some gold, not even worth five thousand. Hardly unusual for the wife of a technology magnate. I do have a few nice dresses, for official functions, but hardly three quarters of a million. I never bought those things.

LAURA: Credit card statements say you did, Florence.

FLORENCE: I have only one credit card. What's that number again?

LAURA: 6545 2396 1548 1994.

FLORENCE: (Pulls it out, shows it) That's not my card.

LAURA: (Slowly realising Something is Wrong) Someone bought a lot of nice things.

FLORENCE: Oh no. Oh Arthur, you didn't. He didn't shower them on you, then?

LAURA: That would have been a clear conflict of interest.

CRAWFORD: (Chuckles) More than, um, smudging the monthly reports?

LAURA: Never mind that. Arthur told me you were buying all the nice things. Why would he?

FLORENCE: He was buttering you up, sweetheart. After he'd got rid of me, was he going to find comfort in the loving arms of the attractive accountant, who stood by him in all of his troubles? You silly girl. Arthur was buying all those things for you, and he didn't even have to give them to you. I wonder where all those fur coats are now.

LAURA: One small detail, though. Getting rid of you. How was he going to do that? You'd have taken him to the cleaners. Especially given... well...

FLORENCE: (Slowly, gingerly, as if carefully finding out what a cockroach tastes like) There is an "In case she dies before me" clause in the will for me. Why did he put that in?

CRAWFORD: It's not even necessary. If one of the gifts were to fail, then the residual estate would pass to the surviving main beneficiaries.

LAURA: The operative word being...

FLORENCE: "Surviving."

LAURA: (takes a deep breath, whispers) Shit.

 
A silence falls, finally broken by CRAWFORD.

 
CRAWFORD: Under the circumstances, I can understand if you would like to think about this for a while. Shall we adjourn and meet again at a later time?

 
FLORENCE, LAURA: (At the same time) Get on with it!

 
Blackout

 
MUSIC: On hold for you. Cover desk, put out cafe table and chairs.

 

 
SOUND: Fade out music, 15 seconds of cafe noises.

 
SCENE: We find LAURA sitting at a table in a cafe, reading the Financial Times, and sipping tea. FLORENCE enters, plonks a briefcase on the table, briefly startling LAURA.

 
FLORENCE: Hello Miss Meddowes. I have the specifics on the bank accounts. I'll need some signatures from you.

LAURA: Mrs. Ambrose. Would you like some tea, perhaps?

FLORENCE: (Produces a pen, puts papers on the table) What I would like is for you to sign the papers.

LAURA: Preferably without reading them first?

FLORENCE: That would be great. The part that says "I relinquish all my claims on the estate," is purely metaphorical.

LAURA: (Hands newspaper to FLORENCE, picks up papers to read them.) I see the stocks have recovered somewhat. They took a nosedive when you announced that the wifey actually planned to run the company.

FLORENCE: I know. (Opens the newspaper) I bought them all. I'm now up to forty percent. Ten more, and I can tell the other board members to get stuffed. They have been at me to leave the actual running of the company to them.

LAURA: (still reading) Aren't you lucky to have such an experienced body of...

FLORENCE: Arseholes. They think I'm an idiot who will run Triple A into the ground.

LAURA: Amusing though it would be to watch you crash and burn... (Looks up) please don't. It would affect my stocks as well.

FLORENCE: I'm in his office now, doing his job, and still waiting to hit some wall or other. So far I haven't. Never thought I had it in me. (Looks at LAURA) I got rid of the desk, though. It's in storage. If you want it...

LAURA: It is wonderfully sturdy, but no thank you. I have my own. (Signs papers) Are you sure you don't want some tea?

FLORENCE: (Gathers up the papers) Positive.

 
Blackout

 
MUSIC: On hold for you. Crawford back, remove cafe table, move chairs to desk.

 

 
SCENE: CRAWFORD's office. Present are CRAWFORD, LAURA, and FLORENCE. Papers litter the desk.

 
MUSIC: Fade "On hold for you."

 
FLORENCE: More delays? For goodness' sake, what is the holdup?

CRAWFORD: I'm afraid the probate courts are hard pressed to process all the cases presented to them. Too many people dying and not enough clerks.

LAURA: This is getting silly. When will we get our money, Mr. Crawford? (Looks at Florence) Pardon me. When will I get Arthur's money?

FLORENCE: (Shakes head, laughs, under her breath) Bitch.

CRAWFORD: Time was when this took just a few weeks, but with the probate courts in the state they are, it can take months. And on top of that, they have decided to automate certain parts of the procedure. For efficiency, you understand.

LAURA: Oh god. Herman Hollerith rears his ugly head again?

FLORENCE: I'm getting tired of this. Do we actually need the courts? Can't we just divide up the pot and finally go our separate ways?

CRAWFORD: This is the last of the paperwork. I will drop it in the DX now, and then the authorities need to grind through them. When it comes back, I'll let you know immediately. (Gathers up the papers into several envelopes, writes the address on them) Excuse me. (Leaves for the post box)

 
FLORENCE: (Leans on the desk, puts her head on her hands)

LAURA: (Walks over to her, puts a hand on her shoulder) Hold up, Florence. We've done all we can. Now all we can do is wait.

FLORENCE: (Looks up) There have been many times where you could have made this more difficult. You didn't. Just so you know I know. Thank you for that.

LAURA: I want this to end. I want to forget. Arthur played me like a bloody fiddle, and if the bastard hadn't got drunk and fallen in the canal, I would have fallen for it! It stings. I do not appreciate being taken for a ride.

FLORENCE: You've got a lousy taste in men.

LAURA: You've got a lousy taste in husbands.

CRAWFORD: (Returns) There. All done. I'll inform you of any developments.

FLORENCE: Thanks.

LAURA: Is there anything I can do to speed things up?

CRAWFORD: You've already done more than most of my clients. The financial overviews you compiled were most useful. It is now up to the millstones of bureaucracy.

 
Blackout

 
MUSIC: "On hold for you"

 

 
SCENE: Arthur's grave in the cemetary. A few fresh flowers are on the grave. We find FLORENCE and LAURA, now very rich, holding briefcases, and staring far into the future.

 
SOUND: Fade music. Subtle wind noises.

 
FLORENCE: Well, you can afford a nice pair of tits now.

LAURA: (Laughs) I don't need to have my ego inflated.

FLORENCE: (Picks up the flowers from the grave and puts them on the next grave over)

LAURA: (Looks at FLORENCE) I'm going to sell all my Triple A stocks. Do you want to buy them before someone else does? It'll give you a controlling interest.

FLORENCE: Maybe you want to hold on to them for a while. They're going to go up soon.

LAURA: What makes you think that?

FLORENCE: Someone at an Ipswich university invented something that the Military may be interested in. We're about to snag the manufacturing contract.

LAURA: Thanks for the tip, but no thanks. I want to forget all about Arthur Ambrose Sodding Automata.

FLORENCE: What is my credit card number again?

LAURA: I've forgotten already.

FLORENCE: Have any plans?

LAURA: I've always wanted my own accountancy firm. Maybe I can seduce a few of my clients to come with me.

FLORENCE: (Gives LAURA a look) Did you mean to put it like that?

LAURA: (Facepalm) Oh god, that's not what I meant!

FLORENCE: You weren't at the funeral, were you? At least I don't remember seeing you.

LAURA: I wasn't invited. Brian went, he's more senior. I don't mind. I didn't fancy staring at a coffin anyway.

FLORENCE: The lid was closed. I'm glad. The morticians did what they could, but he fell on his head. "He is not dead but sleepeth." I must beg to differ. He was definitely dead. Bastard.

LAURA: De mortuis nil nisi bene. When I think of something good, I'll let you know.

FLORENCE: It's getting on. Is there anything else you want to do here?

LAURA: What, you mean like piss on the grave?

FLORENCE: (Laughs) I was going to say 'dance,' but you do what you have to.

LAURA: (Reflects) I never was much of a dancer.

FLORENCE: Good luck. (Holds out hand. LAURA takes it.) I mean it.

LAURA: You too.

 
Blackout

 
MUSIC: Final part of "On hold for you"

 
LIGHTS: Front stage up. Enter CRAWFORD, take a bow.

 
MUSIC: Ends Exeunt omnes.