Night Must Fall : a Play in Three Acts

by Emlyn Williams

ACT II

SCENE I

An afternoon twelve days later. The weather is a little duller.

MRS. BRAMSON is sitting on the right of the table in her invalid chair, puzzling out a game of patience. She has smartened up her appearance in the interval and is wearing purple, and earrings. OLIVIA _is sitting opposite her, smoking a cigarette, a pencil and pad on the table in front of her; she is pondering and writing. A portable gramophone on a small table next the desk is playing the H.M.V. dance record of "Dames."

A pause_. MRS. BRAMSON coughs. She coughs again, and looks at OLIVIA, waving her hand before her, clearing away billows of imaginary smoke.

OLIVIA: I'm sorry. Is my cigarette worrying you?

MRS. BRAMSON (temper): Not at all. I like it!

OLIVIA stubs out her cigarette with a resigned look and goes on making notes. DAN enters from the kitchen, keeping time to the music, carrying a bunch of roses, wearing overalls over flannel trousers and a brown golf jacket, and smoking. He goes to the fireplace and clumps the roses into a vase on the mantelpiece, humming the tune. He crosses to the gramophone, still in rhythm, MRS. BRAMSON keeping time skittishly with her hands. He turns off the gramophone and looks over OLIVIA'S shoulder at what she is writing.

DAN (singing): "Their home addresses … and their caresses … linger in my memory of … those beautiful dames" … (His hand to his forehead) That's me!

OLIVIA looks at him coldly and continues her notes.

MRS. BRAMSON: It won't come out….

DAN shrugs his shoulders, stands behind MRS. BRAMSON'S chair, and studies her play. OLIVIA follows his example from her side.

OLIVIA (pointing to two cards): Look.

MRS. BRAMSON (infuriated): I saw that! Leave me alone, and don't interfere.

A pause. DAN _makes a quick movement and puts one card on another.

(Pleased and interested, quite unconscious to the difference in her attitude_) Oh, yes, dear, of course….

OLIVIA (as MRS. BRAMSON makes a move): No, that's a spade.

MRS. BRAMSON (sharply): No such thing; it's a club. It's got a wiggle on it.

DAN: They both got wiggles on 'em. (Pointing to another card)
This is a club.

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh yes, dear, so it is! OLIVIA (writing): The ironmonger says there were two extra gallons of paraffin not paid for.

MRS. BRAMSON: And they won't be paid for either—not if I have to go to law about it.

A pause. She coughs absently.

DAN: I'm sorry. Is my cigarette worrying you?

MRS. BRAMSON: No, no, dear.

This has its effect on OLIVIA. DAN sits on the left of the table, where "East Lynne" is open on the table.

I'm sick of patience.

DAN (reading laboriously): "You old-fashioned child—"

MRS. BRAMSON: What?

DAN: East Lynne.

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh….

DAN (reading): "'You old-fashioned child!' retorted Mrs. Vane. 'Why did you not put on your diamonds?' 'I-did-put on my diamonds,' stammered Lady Isabel. 'But I—took them off again.' 'What on earth for?'" That's the other lady speaking there—

MRS. BRAMSON: Yes, dear….

DAN: "'What on earth for?' … 'I did not like to be too fine,' answered Lady Isabel, with a laugh—" (turning over) "—and a blush. 'They glittered so! I feared it might be thought I had put them on to look fine.'"

MRS. BRAMSON (absently): Good, isn't it?

DAN (flicking ash): Oh, yes, reelistic…. (Reading) "'I see you mean to set up among that class of people who pree-tend to dee-spise ornyment,' scornfully ree-marked Mrs. Vane. 'It is the ree-finement of aff-affectation, Lady Isabel——'"

An excited knock at the kitchen door. DORA enters. DAN turns back the page and surveys what he has been reading, scratching his head.

MRS. BRAMSON (the old edge to her voice): What is it?

DORA: Them men's in the wood again.

MRS. BRAMSON: What men?

DORA: The men lookin' for that Mrs. Chalfont.

A pause. DAN hums "Dames" under his breath.

MRS. BRAMSON: You don't mean to tell me they're still at it? But they've been pottering about since … when was that day Mr. Dan left the Tallboys?

DORA (stressing a little bitterly): Mister Dan?

DAN (smiling): Ahem!…

DORA: Mister Dan first came to work for you, mum, a week last
Monday….

MRS. BRAMSON: Well, I think it's a disgrace——

DORA: I've found something!

DAN'S humming stops abruptly; he swivels round and looks at
DORA, his face unseen by the audience. OLIVIA and MRS.
BRAMSON stare at DORA; a pause.

MRS. BRAMSON: You've found something?

OLIVIA: What?

DORA (excited): This!

She holds out her left arm and lets jail from her fist the length of a soiled belt. A pause. OLIVIA puts down her pencil and pad, goes to her, and looks at the belt.

OLIVIA: Yes, of course, it's mine! I missed it last week….

MRS. BRAMSON (baulked of excitement): Oh yes, I thought I recognised it…. What nonsense!…

DAN looks at her; chuckling.

DORA (going, dolefully): I'm ever so disappointed….

She goes into the kitchen. OLIVIA goes to the armchair by the fireplace.

MRS. BRAMSON: She'll be joining Scotland Yard next…. Go on, dear.

DAN (reading): "'It is the ree-finement of affectation, Lady
Isabel——'"

_The clock chimes.

(Clapping his hands, to_ MRS. BRAMSON) Ah!

MRS. BRAMSON (pleased): Oh, Danny …

He hurries to the medicine cupboard and pours medicine into a spoon. HUBERT comes in from the front door.

HUBERT (eagerly): Have you heard?

MRS. BRAMSON (eagerly): What?

HUBERT: Dora's found a belt!

MRS. BRAMSON (disappointed again): Oh … it was Olivia's.

HUBERT: I say, what a shame!…

MRS. BRAMSON: Tch, tch!… All this sensation-mong——

DAN drowns her speech by deftly pouring the spoonful of medicine down her throat. He pushes her chocolate-box towards her, and strides briskly into the hall.

Horrid….

DAN (taking a soft hat from the rack and putting it on): Good for you, though, the way you are….

MRS. BRAMSON: Yes, dear.

DAN (coming into the room, and beginning to take off his overalls): And now it's time for your walk…. (Smiling at OLIVIA) It's all right, I got trousers on…. (Peeling the overalls over his feet, and tossing them on to the left window-seat) Listen to me talking about your walk, when you'll be in a chair all the time…. (Chuckling, to HUBERT) That's funny, isn't it!… (Going to MRS. BRAMSON) Come on, I got your shawl and your rug in the hall….

MRS. BRAMSON (as he wheels her into the hall): Have you got my pills?

DAN: I got them in my pocket.

MRS. BRAMSON: And my chocolates?

DAN: I got them in my pocket too. Here's your hat—better put it on yourself.

MRS. BRAMSON: Yes, dear.

DAN: And here's your shawl.

MRS. BRAMSON: It isn't a shawl, it's a cape.

DAN: Well, I don't know, do I? And I carry your rug on my shoulder…. (To the others) See you later! Be good!

Shutting the front door, his voice dying as the chair passes the left window.

Down this way to-day….

A pause. HUBERT and OLIVIA look at each other.

OLIVIA (suddenly): What do you think of him?

HUBERT (a little taken aback): Him? Grannie's white-headed boy, you mean? Oh, he's all right. (Heavily.) A bit slow on the uptake, of course. I wish he'd occasionally take that fag-end out of his mouth.

OLIVIA: He does. For her.

HUBERT: That's true. That's why he's made such a hit with her. Funny I haven't been able to manage it. In two weeks, too … it's uncanny.

OLIVIA: Uncanny?… I think it's clever.

HUBERT: You don't think he's a wrong 'un, do you?

OLIVIA: What do we know about him?

HUBERT: Why … his Christian name?

OLIVIA: And that's all.

HUBERT: He looks pretty honest.

OLIVIA: Looks? (After a pause.) It's rather frightening to think what a face can hide…. I sometimes catch sight of one looking at me. Careful lips, and blank eyes…. And then I find I'm staring at myself in the glass … and I realise how successfully I'm hiding the thoughts I know so well … and then I know we're all … strangers. Windows, with blinds, and behind them … secrets. What's behind his eyes? (After a pause, with a smile) You're quite right, it is morbid.

HUBERT: D'you think he's a thief or something? By Jove, I left my links on the washstand before lunch!

OLIVIA: He's acting … every minute of the time. I know he is! But he's acting pretty well, because I don't know how I know…. He's walking about here all day, and talking a little, and smiling, and smoking cigarettes…. Impenetrable … that's what it is! What's going on—in his mind? What's he thinking of? (Vehemently ) He is thinking of something! All the time! What is it?

DAN enters from the front door and smiles broadly at them.

DAN: Anybody seen my lady's pills? It's a matter of life and death….
I thought I had 'em.

HUBERT chuckles.

OLIVIA (after a pause, in a level voice): Oh, yes. They're in the top drawer of the desk. I'm so sorry.

DAN: Thank you.

He salutes her, goes to the desk, and takes out the pills. They watch him.

MRS. BRAMSON (off) Danny!

DAN: Oh, yes, here they are….

HUBERT (to say something): Is she feeling off colour again?

DAN (on his way to the front door): Off colour? She's never been on it, man! To hear her go on you'd think the only thing left is artificial respiration, And chocolates…. (Laughing, and calling) Coming!

He goes, shutting the front door behind him.

HUBERT: No, really you have to laugh!

OLIVIA: But what you've just seen … that's exactly what I mean! It's acting! He's not being himself for a minute—it's all put on for our benefit … don't you see?

HUBERT (banteringly): D'you know, I think you're in love with him.

OLIVIA (with rather more impatience than is necessary): Don't be ridiculous.

HUBERT: I was only joking.

OLIVIA: He's common and insolent, and I dislike him intensely.

MRS. TERENCE comes in from the kitchen.

MRS. TERENCE: What'll you 'ave for tea, scones or crumpets? Can't make both.

OLIVIA: What d'you think of Dan?

MRS. TERENCE: Dan? Oh, 'e's all right. Bit of a mystery.

HUBERT: Oh.

MRS. TERENCE (shutting the kitchen door and coming into the middle of the room): Terrible liar, o' course. But then a lot of us are. Told me he used to 'unt to 'ounds and 'ave 'is own pack. Before 'e went up in the world and went as a page-boy, I suppose.

OLIVIA (to HUBERT): You see? He wouldn't try that on with us, but couldn't resist it with her.

HUBERT: I wonder how soon the old girl'll get his number?… Oh, but fair play, we're talking about the chap as if he were the most terrible——

MRS. TERENCE: Why, what's 'e done?

HUBERT: Exactly.

OLIVIA: I don't know, but I feel so strongly … Is Dora there?… (Calling cautiously) Dora!

MRS. TERENCE: Oh, she won't know anything. She's as 'alf-witted as she's lazy, and that's sayin' a lot. She'd cut 'er nose off to stop the dust-bin smelling sooner than empty it, she would.

DORA comes in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

DORA: Did somebody say Dora?

OLIVIA: Has Dan said any more about marrying you?

DORA: No. She 'asn't brought it up again, either.

OLIVIA: Does he talk to you at all?

DORA (perplexed): Oh … only how-do-you-do and beg-your-pardon. I've never really spent any time in 'is company, you see. Except, o' course—

HUBERT: Quite. What's your idea of him?

DORA: Oh…. (Moving to the centre of the room) 'E's all right. Takes 'is fun where 'e finds it. And leaves it…. Cracks 'imself up, you know. Pretends 'e doesn't care a twopenny, but always got 'is eye on what you're thinking of 'im … if you know what I mean.

OLIVIA: Yes, I do. That incredible vanity … they always have it.
Always.

HUBERT: Who?

A pause.

OLIVIA: Murderers.

A pause. They stare at her.

HUBERT: Good God!…

MRS. TERENCE: D'you mean … this woman they're looking for?

OLIVIA: I'm sure of it.

MRS. TERENCE: But 'es's such a—such a ordinary boy—

OLIVIA: That's just it—and then he's suddenly so … extraordinary.
I've felt it ever since I heard him sing that song—I told you—

HUBERT: That "mighty-lak-a-rose" thing, you mean? Oh, but it's a pretty well-known one—

OLIVIA: It's more than that. I've kept on saying to myself: No, murder's a thing we read about in the papers; it isn't real life; it can't touch us. … But it can. And it's here. All round us. In the forest … in this house. We're … living with it. (After a pause, rising decisively) Bring his luggage in here, will you, Mrs. Terence?

MRS. TERENCE (staggered): 'Is luggage? (Recovering, to
DORA) Give me a 'and.

Wide-eyed, she goes into the kitchen, followed by DORA.

HUBERT: I say, this is a bit thick, you know—spying—

OLIVIA (urgently): We may never have the house to ourselves again.

She runs to each window and looks out across the forest. MRS. TERENCE returns carrying luggage: one large and one small suitcase. DORA follows, lugging an old-fashioned thick leather hat-box. MRS. TERENCE places the suitcases on the table; DORA plants the hat-box in the middle of the floor.

MRS. TERENCE (in a conspiratorial tone): This is all.

HUBERT: But look here, we can't do this—

OLIVIA snaps open the lid of the larger suitcase with a jerk. A pause. They look, almost afraid. DORA moves to the back of the table.

MRS. TERENCE (as OLIVIA lifts it gingerly): A dirty shirt …

HUBERT: That's all right.

OLIVIA: A clean pair of socks … packet of razor-blades …

HUBERT: We shouldn't be doing this—I feel as if I were at school again—

MRS. TERENCE: Singlet …

OLIVIA: Half ticket to Shepperley Palais de Danse …

MRS. TERENCE: Oh, it's a proper 'aunt!

DORA: Oh, 'ere's a pocket-book. With a letter.

(She gives the letter to MRS. TERENCE and the pocket-book to OLIVIA.)

HUBERT: Look here, this is going a bit too far—you can't do this to a chap—

MRS. TERENCE (taking the letter from the envelope): Don't be silly, dear, your wife'll do it to you 'undreds of times…. (Sniffing the note-paper) Pooh…. (Reading, as they crane over her shoulder) "Dear Baby-Face my own …" Signed Lil….

OLIVIA: What awful writing….

MRS. TERENCE (reading, heavily): "… Next time you strike
Newcastle, O.K. by me, baby…." Ooh!

HUBERT: Just another servant-girl…. Sorry, Dora….

DORA (lugubriously): O.K.

OLIVIA (rummaging in the pocket-book): Bus ticket to Thorburton, some snaps …

MRS. TERENCE: Look at 'er bust!

OLIVIA: Here's a group…. Look, Hubert….

HUBERT joins her in front of the table.

HUBERT: This wench is rather fetching.

MRS. TERENCE (crowding between them): Look at 'er!… The impudence, 'er being taken in a bathing-suit!…

DORA: He's not in this one, is 'e?

HUBERT (impressed): Oh, I say … there she is!

MRS. TERENCE and DORA: who?

HUBERT: The missing female! In front of the tall man…. You remember the photograph of her in the Mirror?

DORA: It's awful to think she may be dead. Awful….

MRS. TERENCE: Looks ever so sexy, doesn't she?

DORA: 'Ere's one of a little boy—

OLIVIA: How extraordinary….

HUBERT: What?

OLIVIA: It's himself.

DORA: The little Eton collar…. Oh, dear … ever so sweet, isn't it?
MRS. TERENCE: Now that's what I call a real innocent face….

HUBERT (going to the centre of the room): Well, that's that….

OLIVIA: Wait a minute, wasn't there another one? (Seeing the hat-box) Oh, yes….

HUBERT (lifting it on to a chair): Oh, this; yes….

DORA: Old-fashioned, isn't it?

MRS. TERENCE: I should think he got it from a box-room at the
Tallboys—

OLIVIA (puzzled): But it looks so extraordinary—(_She gives a sudden gasp.)

They look at her. She is staring at the box. A pause._

HUBERT: What is it?

OLIVIA: I don't know…. Suppose there is something … inside it?

A pause. They stare at her, fascinated by her thought. The front door bangs. They are electrified into action: but it is too late. It is DAN. He goes briskly to the table.

DAN: She wants to sit in the sun now and have a bit of East
Lynne. Talk about changin' your mind—

He sees the suitcases on the table before him, and is motionless and silent. A pause. The others dare not move. He finally breaks the situation, takes up "East Lynne" from the table, and walks slowly back to the front door. He stops, looks round at HUBERT, smiles, and comes down to him. His manner is normal—too normal.

Could I have it back, please? It's the only one I got….

HUBERT: Oh … yes, of course…. (Handing him the pocket-book.)

DAN (taking it): Thank you very much.

HUBERT: Not at all … I … (To OLIVIA) Here, you deal with this. It's beyond me.

DAN (to him): Did you see the picture of me when I was a little fellow?

HUBERT: Yes…. Very jolly.

DAN (turning to MRS. TERENCE): Did you? It was in the inside of my wallet.

MRS. TERENCE: Oh … was it?

DAN: Yes. Where I should be keeping my money, only any bit of money I have I always keep on me. (Turning to HUBERT) Safer, don't you think?

HUBERT (smiling weakly): Ye-es….

DAN: I only keep one ten-bob note in this wallet, for emergencies…. (Looking) That's funny. It's gone.

He looks at HUBERT. The others look blankly at one another. … I expect I dropped it somewhere…. What did you think of the letter?

HUBERT: Letter?

DAN: You got in your hand.

HUBERT: Well, I didn't—er—

DAN: Means well, does Lil; but we had a row. (Taking back the letter) She would spy on me. And if there's anythin' I hate, it's spyin'. Don't you agree?

HUBERT: Ye-es.

DAN: I'd sooner have anythin' than a spy. (To MRS. TERENCE) Bar a murderer, o' course.

A pause. He is arranging his property in his wallet.

HUBERT (incredulous): What—what did you say?

DAN (turning to him casually): Bar a murderer, o' course!

OLIVIA steps forward. MRS. TERENCE steps back from the chair on which the hat-box has been placed.

OLIVIA (incisively): Talking of murder, do you know anything about Mrs. Chalfont's whereabouts at the moment?

DAN turns to her, and for the first time sees the hat-box. He stands motionless. A pause.

DAN: Mrs. Who? OLIVIA: You can't pretend you've never heard of her.

DAN (turning to HUBERT, recovering himself): Oh, Mrs. Chalfont's whereabouts! I thought she said her name was Mrs. Chalfontswear. (Profusely) Silly…. Swear—about—couldn't think——

OLIVIA: Well?

DAN (still looking at HUBERT, brightly, after a pause):
I've nothin' to go on, but I think she's been … murdered.

HUBERT: Oh, you do?

DAN: Yes, I do.

MRS. TERENCE: Who by?

DAN: They say she had several chaps on a string, and——(Suddenly) There was one fellow, a London chap, a bachelor, very citified—with a fair moust——(He stares at HUBERT.)

HUBERT (touching his moustache, unconsciously): What are you looking at me for?

DAN: Well … you wasn't round these parts the day she bunked, was you?

HUBERT: Yes, I was, as a matter of fact.

DAN (significantly): Oh….

MRS. BRAMSON'S VOICE (calling in the garden): Danny!

HUBERT (flustered): What in God's name are you getting at?

DAN smiles and shrugs his shoulders regretfully at him, and goes out through the front door. OLIVIA sits at the table.

MRS. TERENCE (to HUBERT, perplexed): Are you sure you didn't do it, sir?

HUBERT: I'm going out for a breath of air.

He takes his hat and stick as he goes through the hall, and goes out through the front door.

MRS. TERENCE (to OLIVIA): You don't still think—

OLIVIA: I won't say any more. I know how silly it sounds.

DORA runs into the kitchen, snivelling.

MRS. TERENCE (to OLIVIA): The way you worked us all up! Doesn't it all go to show—

She hears DAN return, and looks round apprehensively. He goes to the table slowly and looks at the two suitcases.

DAN (smiling, to MRS. TERENCE): Would you mind please givin' me a hand with the tidyin' up?… (Taking up the suitcases) And carryin' the other one?… (Going into the kitchen, followed by MRS. TERENCE carrying the hat-box) Looks as if we're goin' on our holidays, doesn't it?…

OLIVIA is alone for a moment. She stares before her, perplexed. DAN returns. She looks away. He looks at her, his eyes narrowed. A pause. Studying her, he takes from a pocket of his jacket a formidable-looking clasp-knife, unclasps it, and tests the blade casually with his fingers. He glances at the mantelpiece, crosses to it, takes down a stick, and begins to sharpen the end of it. OLIVIA watches him. A pause. OLIVIA: Did you do it?

He whittles at the stick.

DAN: You wouldn't be bad-lookin' without them glasses.

OLIVIA: It doesn't interest me very much what I look like.

DAN: Don't you believe it…. (Surveying the shavings in the hearth) Tch!… Clumsy…. (Looking round, and seeing a newspaper lying on the table) Ah….

_He crosses to the table.

(Smiling, with the suspicion of a mock-bow_) Excuse me…. (He unfolds the newspaper on the table and begins to whittle the stick over it.)

OLIVIA: You're very conceited, aren't you?

DAN (reassuringly): Yes….

OLIVIA: And you are acting all the time, aren't you?

DAN (staring at her, as if astonished): Actin'? Actin' what? (Leaning over the table, on both arms) Look at the way I can look you in the eyes. I'll stare you out….

OLIVIA (staring into his eyes): I have a theory it's the criminals who can look you in the eyes, and the honest people who blush and look away.

DAN (smiling): Oh….

OLIVIA (after a pause, challenging): It's a very blank look, though, isn't it?

DAN (smiling): Is it?

OLIVIA: You are acting, aren't you?

DAN (after a pause, in a whisper, almost joyfully): Yes!

OLIVIA (fascinated): And what are you like when you stop acting?

DAN: I dunno, it's so long since I stopped.

OLIVIA: But when you're alone?

DAN: Then I act more than ever I do.

OLIVIA: Why?

DAN: I dunno; 'cause I like it…. (Breaking the scene, pulling a chair round to the table) Now what d'ye say if I ask a question or two for a change? (Sitting in the chair facing her) Just for a change…. Why can't you take a bit of an interest in some other body but me?

OLIVIA (taken aback): I'm not interested in you. Only you don't talk. That's bound to make people wonder.

DAN: I can talk a lot sometimes. A drop o' drink makes a power o' difference to me. (Chuckling) You'd be surprised…. Ah….

He returns to his work.

OLIVIA: I wonder if I would….

DAN: I know you would….

OLIVIA: I think I can diagnose you all right.

DAN: Carry on.

OLIVIA: You haven't any feelings … at all….

He looks slowly up at her. She has struck home.

But you live in a world of your own…. A world of your own imagination.

DAN: I don't understand so very well, not bein' so very liter-er-airy.

OLIVIA: You follow me perfectly well.

He shrugs his shoulders, laughs, and goes on whittling.

DAN: D'you still think there's been a bit o' dirty work?

OLIVIA: I don't know what to think now. I suppose not.

DAN (intent on his work, his back to the audience):
Disappointed?

OLIVIA: What on earth do you mean?

DAN: Disappointed?

OLIVIA (laughing, in spite of herself): Yes, I suppose I am.

DAN: Why?

OLIVIA (the tension at last relaxed): Oh, I don't know…. Because nothing much has ever happened to me, and it's a dull day, and it's the depths of the country…. I don't know….

A piercing scream from the bottom of the garden. A pause.

MRS. BRAMSON (shrieking from the other side of the house):
Danny!… Danny!

The clatter of footsteps in the garden. DORA runs in from the hall, breathless and terrified.

DORA: They're diggin' … in the rubbish-pit …

OLIVIA: Well?

DORA: There's something sticking out….

OLIVIA: What?

DORA: A hand … Somebody's hand!… Oh, Miss Grayne … somebody's hand….

She runs whimpering into the kitchen, as OLIVIA rises and runs to the left window and looks out.

MRS. BRAMSON'S VOICE (calling off): Danny!

DAN rises slowly, his back to the audience.

OLIVIA _turns and suddenly sees him. Horror grows in her face.

The blare of music. The lights dim out._