Night Must Fall : a Play in Three Acts Part 20

_A pause. He crosses towards the fireplace._

HUBERT: Is it another man?

OLIVIA (_startled_): Don't be silly. (_Collecting herself_) What man could I possibly meet, cooped up here?

HUBERT: Sorry. Can't be helped. Sorry.

DAN (_in the garden_): There we are.--Nice outing, eh--

OLIVIA: So am I.

_The front door opens and_ DAN _wheels in_ MRS. BRAMSON.

_He is as serene as ever, but more animated than before. He is dressed the same as in the previous scene, and is smoking his usual cigarette._ HUBERT _sits at the table._

DAN (_hanging up her rug in the hall_): Back home again.--I put your gloves away----

MRS. BRAMSON (_as he wheels her in_): I feel dead. (_To_ HUBERT) Oh, it's you.... I feel dead.

DAN (_sitting beside her on the sofa, full of high spirits_): Don't you be a silly old 'oman, you look as pretty as a picture-- strawberries and cream in your face, and not a day over forty; and when I've made you a nice cup of tea you'll be twenty-five in the sun and eighteen with your back to the light, so you think yourself lucky!

MRS. BRAMSON (_as he digs her in the side_): Oh, Danny, you are a terror! (_To the others_) He's been at me like this all the way. I must say it keeps me alive.

DAN (_as she hands him her hat and cape_): But you feel dead. I get you.

MRS. BRAMSON (_kittenish_): Oh, you caution! You'll be the death of me!

DAN (_wagging his finger at her_): Ah-ha! (_Hanging up her things in the hall_) Now what'd you like a drop of in your tea--gin, whisky, liqueur, brandy, or a nice dollop of sailor's rum, eh?

MRS. BRAMSON: Just listen to him! Now don't make me laugh, dear, because there's always my heart.

DAN (_sitting beside her again_): You've lost your heart, you know you have, to the little feller that pushes your pram--you know you have!

MRS. BRAMSON (_laughing shrilly_): Pram! Well! (_Her laugh cut short_) It's wicked to laugh, with this--this thing all round us.

DAN (_sobering portentously_): I forgot. (_As she s.h.i.+vers_) Not in a draught, are you? (_Shutting the front door and coming down to_ HUBERT) D'you remember, Mr. Laurie, me pulling your leg about you havin' done it? Funniest thing out!... Talk about laugh!

MRS. BRAMSON (_fondly_): Tttt!...

DAN (_a glint of mischief in his eyes_): I think I better get the tea before I get into hot water.

_He goes towards the kitchen._

OLIVIA: Mrs. Terence is getting the tea.

DAN (_at the door_): She don't make tea like me. I'm an old sailor, Miss Grayne. Don't you forget that.

_He goes into the kitchen._

OLIVIA: I'm not interested, I'm afraid.

MRS. BRAMSON (_wheeling herself to the front of the table_): Look here, Olivia, you're downright rude to that boy, and if there's one thing that never gets a woman anywhere, it's rudeness. What have you got against him?

HUBERT: Surely he's got more to say for himself to-day than when I met him before?

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh, he's been in rare spirits all day.

HUBERT: Johnny Walker, judging by the whiff of breath I got just now.

MRS. BRAMSON: Meaning whisky?

HUBERT: Yes.

OLIVIA: I've never heard you make a joke before, Hubert.

HUBERT: Didn't realise it was one till I'd said it. Sorry.

MRS. BRAMSON: It's not a joke; it's a libel.

_A knock at the front door._

Come in.

NURSE LIBBY _enters from the front door._

The boy's a teetotaller.

HUBERT: Sorry; my mistake.

NURSE: Good afternoon. Shall I wait for you in your bedroom?

MRS. BRAMSON: Yes. I feel absolutely dead.

NURSE (_turning at the bedroom, eagerly_): Anything new _re_ the murder?

HUBERT: I believe her head was cut off at one stroke.

NURSE (_brightly_): Oh, poor thing....

_She goes into the bedroom_. DAN _returns from the kitchen, carrying a tray of tea and cakes._

DAN: There you are, fresh as a daisy.--Three lumps, as per usual, and some of the cakes you like----

MRS. BRAMSON (_as he pours out her tea_): Thank you, dear.... Let me smell your breath. (_After smelling it_) Clean as a whistle.

Smells of peppermints.

OLIVIA: Yes. There were some in the kitchen.

HUBERT: Oh.