Night Must Fall : a Play in Three Acts Part 7

BELSIZE: What?

OLIVIA: Well, here we all are, perfectly ordinary English people. We woke up ... no, it's silly.

MRS. BRAMSON: Of course it's silly.

BELSIZE (_giving_ MRS. BRAMSON _an impatient look_): No, go on. OLIVIA: Well, we woke up this morning, thinking, "Here's another day." We got up, looked at the weather, and talked; and here we all are, still talking.... And all that time----

MRS. BRAMSON: My dear girl, who are you to expect a policeman----

BELSIZE (_quelling her sternly_): If you please! I want to hear what she's got to say. (_To_ OLIVIA) Well?

OLIVIA: All that time ... there may be something ... lying in the woods. Hidden under a bush, with two feet just showing. Perhaps one high heel catching the sunlight, with a bird perched on the end of it; and the other--a stockinged foot, with blood ... that's dried into the openwork stocking. And there's a man walking about somewhere, and talking, like us; and he woke up this morning, and looked at the weather. ... And he killed her.... (_Smiling, looking out of the window_) The cat doesn't believe a word of it, anyhow. It's just walking away.

MRS. BRAMSON: Well!

MRS. TERENCE: Ooh, Miss Grayne, you give me the creeps! I'm glad it is morning, that's all I can say....

BELSIZE: I don't think the lady can quite describe _herself_ as ordinary, after that little flight of fancy!

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh, that's nothing; she writes poetry. Jingle jingle--

BELSIZE: I can only hope she's wrong, or it'll mean a nice job of work for us! ... Well, if anything funny happens, nip along to Shepperley police station. Pity you're not on the 'phone. Good morning.... Good morning....

MRS. TERENCE: This way....

_She follows_ BELSIZE _into the hall_.

BELSIZE: No, don't bother.... Good morning.

_He goes out._ MRS. TERENCE _shuts the door after him_.

MRS. BRAMSON (_to_ HUBERT): What are _you_ staring at?

HUBERT (_crossing to the fireplace_): Funny, I can't get out of my mind what Olivia said about the man being somewhere who's done it.

MRS. TERENCE (_coming into the room_): Why, Mr. Laurie, it might be you! After all, there's nothing in your face that _proves_ it isn't!

HUBERT: Oh, come, come! You're being a bit hard on the old countenance, aren't you?

MRS. TERENCE: Well, 'e's not going to walk about with bloodshot eyes and a snarl all over his face, is he?

_She goes into the kitchen._

HUBERT: That's true enough.

MRS. BRAMSON: Missing woman indeed! She's more likely than not at this very moment sitting in some saloon bar. Or the films, I shouldn't wonder. (_To_ OLIVIA) pa.s.s me my wool, will you....

OLIVIA _crosses to the desk. A knock at the kitchen door_: DORA _appears, cautiously._

DORA: _Was_ it about me?

OLIVIA: Of course it wasn't.

DORA (_relieved_): Oh.... Please, mum, 'e's 'ere.

MRS. BRAMSON: Who?

DORA: My boy fr--my gentleman friend, ma'am, from the Tallboys.

MRS. BRAMSON: I'm ready for him. (_Waving aside the wool which_ OLIVIA _brings to her_) The sooner he's made to realise what his duty _is_, the better. _I_'ll give him baby-face!

DORA: Thank you, ma'am.

_She goes out through the front door._

HUBERT: What gentleman? What duty?

OLIVIA: The maid's going to have a baby. (_She crosses and puts the wool in the cupboard of the desk._)

HUBERT: Is she, by Jove!... Don't look at me like that, Mrs. Bramson!

I've only been in the county two weeks.... But is _he_ from the Tallboys?

MRS. BRAMSON: A page-boy or something of the sort.

DORA _comes back to the front door, looks back, and beckons. She is followed by_ DAN, _who saunters past her into the room. He is a young fellow wearing a blue pill-box hat, uniform trousers, a jacket too small for him, and bicycle-clips: the stub of a cigarette dangles between his lips. He speaks with a rough accent, indeterminate, but more Welsh than anything else.

His personality varies very considerably as the play proceeds: the impression he gives at the moment is one of totally disarming good humour and childlike unself-consciousness. It would need a very close observer to suspect that there is something wrong somewhere--that this personality is completely a.s.sumed._ DORA _shuts the front door and comes to the back of the sofa._

MRS. BRAMSON (_sternly_): Well?

DAN (_saluting_): Mornin', all!

MRS. BRAMSON: So you're Baby-face?

DAN: That's me. (_Grinning._) Silly name, isn't it? (_After a pause._) I must apologise to all and sundry for this fancy dress, but it's my working togs. I been on duty this mornin', and my hands isn't very clean. You see, I didn't know as it was going to be a party.

MRS. BRAMSON: Party?

DAN (_looking at_ OLIVIA): Well, it's ladies, isn't it?

HUBERT: Are you shy with ladies?

DAN (_smiling at_ OLIVIA): Oh, yes.

OLIVIA _moves away coldly._ DAN _turns to_ MRS. BRAMSON.

MRS. BRAMSON (_cutting_): You smoke, I see.

DAN: Yes. (_Taking the stub out of his mouth with alacrity and taking off his hat_) Oh, I'm sorry. I always forget my manners with a cigarette when I'm in company.... (_Pus.h.i.+ng the stub behind his ear, as_ OLIVIA _crosses to the armchair_) I always been clumsy in people's houses. I am sorry.