JELKA ( Calling) : Hildegarde? Hildegarde?

Enter Hildegarde, the Maid.

HILDEGARDE: Yes, Madam?

JELKA: My dear, do fetch us some ( Turning to Elgar)…tea, coffee?

DELIUS: Champagne…

JELKA: Oh, Fred.

DELIUS: What?

JELKA: You know you are not allowed…

DELIUS: Not allowed? Nonsense, Jelka, I demand Champagne.

JELKA: Oh very well. Champagne, Hildegarde.

DELIUS: Two bottles of the Bollinger ‘16, Hildegarde.

HILDEGARDE: Sir.

Hildegarde exits.

DELIUS: A wonderful concert last week, Edward.

ELGAR: You were in London…surely not?

DELIUS: No, we heard it on the wireless you kindly sent us.

ELGAR: Ah, I see. The tone is so clear don’t you think? I would never have imagined, when I was writing Gerontius, that your music, Fred, that George’s plays might be broadcast, and be listened to by tens of thousands of people? It is beyond my comprehension.

DELIUS: Lots of royalties though.

ELGAR: Indeed. Although I have to say that over the years I feel I could have organised things a little better in that department. Joe was saying on the way down about never giving a sucker an even break. I feel I may have been something of a sucker in that area, Fred.

DELIUS: W.C. Fields - never give a sucker an even break.( Delius laughs to himself) How, I miss the cinema, Edward. I went to see Al Jolson in The Jazz Singer ten times, ten times.

JELKA: And we were thrown out ten times because you would insist on singing along. I have never been so embarrassed.

ELGAR (Laughing): D’you know, Harold Lloyd always reminds me of my father, dear old man. Jelka, tell me, will cinema affect your work as a painter, affect painting as a whole, affect art in general?

JELKA: Absolutely. Images are what the artist lives for, therefore we must adapt to the cinema, to the popular image. You too must adapt, as must Fred. You should both write for the cinema.

ELGAR: Do you really think so?

DELIUS: Potemkin was another wonderful film, and I didn’t sing along to that did I, Jelka?

JELKA: No, thank goodness. But you should write something for Hollywood, Edward? I believe many Russian composers have moved there.

ELGAR: Hollywood? Gosh. Do you think so? Music by Sir Edward Elgar, that’d show ‘em.

JELKA: Yes. If not your work will die, wither as perhaps it should.

Elgar roars with laughter

DELIUS: Jelka!

JELKA: America already leads the way in film making, Fred, and it always will, because they are always looking to create something new; they do not rely on tradition.

ELGAR: You are absolutely right, Madam Delius. But I’ll tell you something: Hollywood is too interested in art. All I’m interested in is money. (PAUSE) And I’ll tell you something else - Griffith wanted me to write the music for The Birth of a Nation, don’t you know.

DELIUS: No, I don’t believe it.

ELGAR: Yes, I turned him down, of course, felt then it was rather beneath my talent. What a damn fool, eh. Twenty thousand dollars he offered me. Apparently Chaplin suggested I do it, which I have to say was rather splendid of him not having met the chap. When I told George all he could say was ( ELGAR ADOPTS AN IRISH ACCENT) “Good god, man, you’ve never said anything about this before. Why I had lunch with Chaplin only last July, he never mentioned it either. D’you know he served roast beef and Yorkshire pudding in a heat wave, ninety degrees. I have to say he does seem to be very much the Englishman who judges success by his own childhood deprivations.” (PAUSE) George is a vegetarian of course. (PAUSE) Joe writes screenplays - I believe that is what they call them - he intends to make it big in Hollywood; he probably will, too.

Hildegarde enters with the champagne and places it on the table. Joe follows her with the parcel which he puts on the floor at the edge of the stage.

DELIUS: Ah, Hildegarde, the champagne. Now I want you to open the champagne in the way I showed you.

HILDEGARDE: But, sir…

DELIUS: Now come on, madchen, no need to be afraid. First remove the foil, then untie the wire. Remember how the waiters at Le Moulin Rouge…

JELKA: Fred, what have you been saying to her? The girl has no desire, I’m sure, to hear about your youthful exploits in Paris. Until she came here she had never been away from Saxony…

HILDEGARDE: Oh no, Madam, we lived in Zurich for a while, and I was once taken on a school outing to Verdun. Pardon, Madam.

ELGAR: Did they serve you champagne, Hildegarde? All beautiful young women should drink champagne.

HILDEGARDE: Oh no, your honour, only Perrier water, and almond cakes. We were not made welcome. But our Rabbi insisted we had the right to visit the battlefield. When the locals knew we were German, were Jews, they jeered and spat at us. I remember how some of the French boys smoked cigars behind the memorial and stubbed them out on the names of the German dead until our Rabbi found them and beat them with his stick. Oh, how we laughed.

Everyone laughs

DELIUS: Good, quite right. Now remember, you must never allow the cork to pop as if from a gun. Hold onto it and allow it to gently ease itself out without a sound. Ready, Hildegarde?

HILDEGARDE: Yes, sir.

Hildegarde slowly eases the cork from the bottle, smiling hugely as she does so.

ELGAR: Bravo, Hildegarde, bravo indeed.

DELIUS: Bravo, my dear.

JELKA: Well done, Hilde. Now just pour a glass for everyone.

JOE: Ain’t you the one, honey. Ain’t you the one.

Go to Part 4.