Night Must Fall : a Play in Three Acts

by Emlyn Williams

ACT III

SCENE 1

Half an hour later. The light has waned; the fire is lit and throws a red reflection into the room. DAN is lying on the sofa, eyes closed. NURSE LIBBY sits at the end of the sofa holding his pulse. MRS. TERENCE stands behind the sofa with a toby jug of water.

NURSE: There, lovey, you won't be long now…. Ever so much steadier already…. What a bit o' luck me blowin' in to-day!… Tt! tt! Pouring with sweat, the lad is. Whatever's he been up to?

MRS. TERENCE: When I walked in that door and saw 'im lyin' full stretch on that floor everything went topsy-wopsy. (Pressing the jug to DAN'S lips) It did! The room went round and round….

NURSE:(as DAN splutters): Don't choke 'im, there's a love….

MRS. TERENCE: D'you know what I said to meself when I saw 'im lyin' there?

NURSE: What?

MRS. TERENCE: I said, "That murderer's been at 'im," I said, "and it's the next victim." I did!

NURSE: So you would! Just like the pictures…. 'Old your 'ead up, love.

MRS. TERENCE (as NURSE LIBBY supports DAN'S head):
Got a nice face, 'asn't he?

NURSE: Oh, yes!… (As DAN'S eyes flicker) Shh, he's coming to…. DAN opens his eyes and looks at her.

Welcome back to the land of the living!

MRS. TERENCE: Thought the murderer'd got you! A pause. DAN stares, then sits up abruptly.

DAN: How long I been like that?

NURSE: We picked you up ten minutes ago, and I'd say it was twenty minutes before that, roughly-like, that you passed away.

MRS. TERENCE: Passed away, don't frighten the boy!… Whatever come over you, dear?

DAN: I dunno. Felt sick, I think. (Recovering himself) Say no more about it, eh? Don't like swinging the lead…. (His head in his hand.)

MRS. TERENCE: Waiting 'and and foot on Madame Crocodile, enough to wear
King Kong out….

NURSE: That's better, eh?

DAN: Is it really getting dark?

MRS. TERENCE: It's a scandal the way the days are drawin' in…. 'Ave another sip——

DAN (as she makes to give him more water, to NURSE LIBBY): You haven't such a thing as a nip of brandy?

NURSE (opening her bag): Yes, lovey, I nearly gave you a drop just now—-

DAN takes a flask from her and gulps; he takes a second mouthful. He gives it back, shakes himself, and looks before him.

MRS. TERENCE: Better?

DAN: Yes…. Clears the brain no end…. Makes you understand better…. (His voice growing in vehemence) Makes you see what a damn silly thing it is to get the wind up about anything. Do things! Get a move on! Show 'em what you're made of! Get a move on!… Fainting, indeed…. Proper girl's trick, I'm ashamed of myself…. (Looking round, quietly) The light's going…. The daytime's as if it's never been; it's dead…. (Seeing the others stare, with a laugh) Daft, isn't it?

DORA brings in an oil lamp from the kitchen; she is wearing her outdoor clothes. She crosses to the table, strikes a match with her back to the audience and lights the lamp, then the wall lamp. The twilight is dispelled.

NURSE (shutting her bag, rising): You'll be all right; a bit light-headed after the fall, I expect. (Going to the hall) Well, got an abscess the other side of Turneyfield, and a slow puncture. So long, lovey.

DAN (sitting up): So long!

NURSE: Be good, all!

She bustles out of the front door. A pause. DAN sits looking before him, drumming his fingers on the sofa.

DORA (closing the right window-curtains): What's the matter with him?

MRS. TERENCE: Conked out.

DORA: Conked out? Oh, dear…. D'you think 'e see'd something? I'll tell you what it is!

MRS. TERENCE (closing the left window-curtains): What?

DORA: The monster's lurking again.

Mechanically DAN takes a box of matches and a cigarette from his pocket.

MRS. TERENCE: I'll give you lurk, my girl, look at the egg on my toby! Why don't you learn to wash up, instead of walkin' about talking like three-halfpennyworth of trash?

DORA: I can't wash up properly in that kitchen, with that light. Them little oil lamps isn't any good except to set the place on fire.

She goes into the kitchen. DAN drums his fingers on the sofa. MRS. BRAMSON wheels herself from the bedroom.

MRS. BRAMSON: I dropped off. Why didn't somebody wake me? Have I been missing something?

MRS. TERENCE: That Inspector Belsize called.

MRS. BRAMSON (testily): Then why didn't somebody wake me? Dan, what did he want?

DAN: Just a friendly call.

MRS. BRAMSON: You seem very far away, dear. What's the matter with you?… Dan!

DAN: Bit of an 'eadache, that's all.

MRS. BRAMSON: Doesn't make you deaf, though, dear, does it?

MRS. TERENCE: Now, now, turnin' against the apple of your eye; can't 'ave that goin' on——

A sharp knock at the front door. DAN starts up and goes towards the hall.

MRS. BRAMSON (to MRS. TERENCE): See who it is.

MRS. TERENCE (at the front door, as DAN is about to push past her): Oh … it's only the paraffin boy…. (To the boy outside, taking a can from him) And you bring stuff on a Saturday night another time.

DAN is standing behind MRS. BRAMSON'S chair.

MRS. BRAMSON: I should think so——MRS. TERENCE comes into the room. DAN strikes a match for his cigarette.

MRS. TERENCE (with a cry): Oh! Can't you see this is paraffin? (She puts the can on the floor just inside the hall.)

MRS. BRAMSON: You went through my side like a knife——

MRS. TERENCE: If people knew what to do with their money, they'd put electric light in their 'omes 'stead of dangerin' people's lives.

She goes into the kitchen. DAN stares before him, the match flickering.

MRS. BRAMSON (blowing out the match): You'll burn your fingers!
Set yourself on fire! Absent-minded!… I woke up all of a cold shiver.
Had a terrible dream.

DAN (mechanically): What about?

MRS. BRAMSON: Horrors…. I'm freezing. Get me my shawl off my bed, will you, dear?… (As he does not move) My shawl, dear! DAN starts, collects himself and smiles his most ingratiating smile.

DAN: I am sorry, mum. In the Land of Nod, I was! Let me see, what was it your highness was after? A shawl? No sooner said than done…. You watch me! One, two, three!

He runs into the bedroom.

MRS. BRAMSON: Silly boy … silly boy….

OLIVIA comes in quickly from the kitchen. She is dressed to go out and carries a suitcase. Where are you off to?

OLIVIA: I—I've had a telegram. A friend of mine in London's very ill.

MRS. BRAMSON: What's the matter with her?

OLIVIA: Pneumonia.

MRS. BRAMSON: Where's the telegram?

OLIVIA: I—I threw it away.

MRS. BRAMSON: Where d'you throw it?

OLIVIA: I—I——

MRS. BRAMSON: You haven't had any telegram.

OLIVIA (impatiently): No, I haven't!

MRS. BRAMSON: What's the matter with you?

OLIVIA: I can't stay in this house to-night.

MRS. BRAMSON: Why not?

OLIVIA: I'm frightened.

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh, don't be——

OLIVIA: Listen to me. I've never known before what it was to be terrified. But when I saw today beginning to end, and to-night getting nearer and nearer … I felt my finger-tips getting cold. And I knew it was fright … stark fright. I'm not a fool, and I'm not hysterical … but I've been sitting in my room looking at myself in the glass, trying to control myself, telling myself what are real things … and what aren't. I don't know any longer. The day's over. The forest's all round us. Anything may happen…. You shouldn't stay in this house to-night. That's all.

MRS. BRAMSON (blustering): It's very silly of you, trying to scare an old woman with a weak heart. What have you got to be frightened of?

OLIVIA: There's been a murder, you know.

MRS. BRAMSON: Nobody's going to murder you! Besides, we've got Danny to look after us. He's as strong as an ox, and no silly nerves about him…. What is it you're afraid of?

OLIVIA: I—

MRS. BRAMSON: Sly, aren't you?… Where are you staying to-night?

OLIVIA: In Langbury, with Hubert Laurie and his sister.

MRS. BRAMSON: Not too frightened to make arrangements with him, eh?

OLIVIA: Arrangements?

MRS. BRAMSON: Well, some people would call it something else.

OLIVIA (losing her temper): Oh, won't you see …

MRS. BRAMSON: I'm very annoyed with you. How are you going to get there?

OLIVIA: Walking.

MRS. BRAMSON: Through the forest? Not too frightened for that, I see.

OLIVIA: I'd rather spend to-night in the forest than in this house.

MRS. BRAMSON: That sounds convincing, I must say. Well, you can go, but when you come back, I'm not so sure I shall answer the door. Think that over in the morning.

OLIVIA: The morning?…

DAN'S VOICE (in the bedroom, singing): "… their home addresses … and their caresses … linger in my memory of those beautiful dames …"

OLIVIA listens, holding her breath; she tries to say something to MRS. BRAMSON, and fails. She makes an effort, and runs out of the front door. It bangs behind her. DAN comes back from the bedroom, carrying a shawl.

DAN (over-casual): What was that at the door?

MRS. BRAMSON: My niece. Gone for the night, if you please.

DAN: Gone … for the night? (He stares before him.)

MRS. BRAMSON: Would you believe it? Says she's frightened….

A pause.

Come along with the shawl, dear. I'm freezing….

DAN (with a laugh, putting the shawl round her): Don't know what's up with me—

He goes to the table and looks at a newspaper. MRS. TERENCE comes in from the kitchen, her coat on.

MRS. TERENCE: Well, I must go on me way rejoicin'.

MRS. BRAMSON: Everybody seems to be going. What is all this?

MRS. TERENCE: What d'you want for lunch tomorrow?

MRS. BRAMSON: Lunch to-morrow?… Let me see….

DAN: Lunch? To-morrow?… (After a pause) What about a nice little steak?

MRS. BRAMSON: A steak, let me see…. Yes, with baked potatoes—

DAN: And a nice roly-poly puddin', the kind you like?

MRS. BRAMSON: I think so.

MRS. TERENCE: Something light. O.K. Good night.

She goes back into the kitchen. DAN scans the newspaper casually.

MRS. BRAMSON (inquisitive): What are you reading, dear?

DAN (breezily): Only the murder again. About the clues that wasn't any good.

MRS. BRAMSON (suddenly): Danny, d'you think Olivia's a thief?

DAN: Shouldn't be surprised.

MRS. BRAMSON: What!

DAN: Her eyes wasn't very wide apart.

MRS. BRAMSON (working herself up): Goodness me … my jewel-box … what a fool I was to let her go—my earrings … the double-faced—

She wheels herself furiously into her bedroom. DORA, her hat and coat on, comes in from the kitchen in time to see her go.

DORA: What's up with her?

DAN (still at his paper): Thinks she's been robbed.

DORA: Oh, is that all…. That's the fourth time this month she's thought that. One of these days something will 'appen to her, and will I be pleased? Oh, baby!… Where's Mrs. Terence?

DAN: Gone, I think.

DORA (frightened): Oh, law, no! (Calling) Mrs. Terence!

MRS. TERENCE (calling, in the kitchen): Ye-es!

DORA: You 'aven't gone without me, 'ave you?

MRS. TERENCE (appearing at the kitchen door, spearing a hatpin into her hat): Yes, I'm 'alf-way there. What d'you think?

DORA: You did give me a turn! (Going to the table and taking the box) I think I'll 'ave a choc. (Walking towards the hall) I couldn't 'ave walked a step in those trees all by myself. Coming?

DAN (suddenly): I'd have come with you with pleasure, only I'm going the other direction. Payley Hill way.

MRS. TERENCE (surprised): You going out?

DORA: Oh?

DAN (in the hall, putting on hat and mackintosh): Yes. I still feel a bit funny.

MRS. TERENCE: But you can't leave 'er 'ere by herself!

DORA: She'll scream the place down!

DAN (over-explanatory): I asked her, this very minute, and she don't seem to mind. You know what she is. Said it'd do me good, and won't hear of me stayin'. It's no good arguin' with her.

DORA puts the chocolates down on the occasional table. She and
MRS. TERENCE follow DAN into the hall.

DORA: No good arguin' with her—don't I know it!

MRS. TERENCE: You 'ave a nice long walk while you get the chance; you wait on 'er too much…. (Closing the plush curtains so that they are all out of sight) Ooh, ain't it dark…. Got the torch, Dora?

DORA: O.K., honey.

MRS. TERENCE: Laws, I'd be frightened goin' off by meself…. Well, we'd best 'urry, Dora…. Good night, Dan. Pity you aren't comin' our way—-DAN'S VOICE: See you in the morning! Good night!

DORA'S VOICE: O.K.!… Toodle-oo!

The door bangs. A pause.

DAN'S VOICE (outside the left window): Good night!

MRS. TERENCE'S VOICE (outside the right window): Good night!

DORA (same): Good night!

Silence.

MRS. TERENCE (farther away): Good night!

DORA (same): Good night!

MRS. BRAMSON comes trundling back from the bedroom in her chair.

MRS. BRAMSON: Good night here, good night there; anybody'd think it was the night before Judgment Day. What's the matter with … (Seeing the room is empty) Talking to myself. Wish people wouldn't walk out of rooms and leave me high and dry. Don't like it. (She wheels herself round to the table. A pause. She looks round impatiently.) Where's my chocolates?…

She looks round again, gets up out of her chair for the first time in the play, walks quite normally across the room to the mantelpiece, sees her chocolates are not there, walks up to the occasional table, and takes up the box.

That girl's been at them again….

She walks back to her chair, carrying the chocolates, and sits in it again. She begins to munch. She suddenly stops, as if she has heard something.

What's that?…

She listens again. A cry is heard far away.

Oh, God … Danny!

The cry is repeated.

Danny!

The cry is heard a third time.

It's an owl … Oh, Lord!

_She falls back in relief, and eats another chocolate. The clock strikes the half-hour. Silence. The silence gets on her nerves.

(After a pause, calling softly_) Danny!… (As there is no answer) What's the boy doing in that kitchen?

_She takes up the newspaper, sees a headline, and puts it down hastily. She sees the Bible on the table, opens it, and turns over pages.

(After a pause, suddenly_) I've got the jitters. I've got the jitters. I've got the jitters…. (Calling loudly) Danny!

_She waits; there is complete silence. She rises, walks over to the kitchen door, and flings it wide open.

(Shouting_) Danny! (No reply.) He's gone … They've all gone … They've left me … (Losing control, beating her hands wildly on her Bible) Oh, Lord, help a poor old woman … They've left me! (Tottering to the sun-room) Danny … where are you?… Danny … I'm going to be murdered … I'm going to be murdered!… Danny … (Her voice rising, until she is shrieking hysterically) Danny! Danny! Danny!

_She stops suddenly. Footsteps on the gravel outside the front door.

(In a strangled whisper_) There's something outside … something outside … Oh, heavens …

(Staggering across to the sofa) Danny, where are you? Where are you? There's something outs—

The front door bangs. She collapses on the sofa, terrified, her enormous Bible clasped to her breast.

Oh, Lord, help me … help me … Oh, Lord, help me … (Muttering, her eyes closed) … Forgive us our trespasses …

The curtains are suddenly parted. It is DAN, a cigarette between his lips. He stands motionless, his feet planted apart, holding the curtains. There is murder in his face. She is afraid to look, but is forced to at last.

Danny … Oh … Oh …

DAN (smiling, suddenly normal and reassuring): That's all right
… It's only Danny …

MRS. BRAMSON: Thank God … (Going off into laughing hysterics)
Ah … ah … ah …

DAN throws his cigarette away, lays his hat on the occasional table, throws his mackintosh on the left window-seat, and sits beside her, patting her, looking round to see no one has heard her cries.

I'll never forgive you, never. Oh, my heart … Oh—oh—oh—

He runs across to the medicine cupboard and brings back a brandy bottle and two glasses.

DAN: Now have a drop of this … (As she winces at the taste) Go on, do you good … (As she drinks) I am sorry, I am really … You see, they wanted me to see them to the main path, past the rubbish-heap, see, in case they was frightened. … Now that's better, isn't it?

They are seated side by side on the sofa.

MRS. BRAMSON: I don't know yet … Give me some more….

He pours one out for her, and for himself. They drink.

All alone, I was … (Her face puckering with self pity) Just an old woman calling for help … (her voice breaking) … and no answer….

DAN (putting the bottle on the floor beside him): Poor old mum, runnin' about lookin' for Danny——

MRS. BRAMSON (sharply): I wasn't running about as much as all that … Oh, the relief when I saw your face——

DAN: I bet you wasn't half glad, eh?

MRS. BRAMSON: You're the only one that understands me, Danny, that's what you are——

DAN (patting her): That's right——

MRS. BRAMSON: I don't have to tell you everything I've been through. I don't have to tell you about my husband, how unkind and ungodly he was—I wouldn't have minded so much him being ungodly, but oh, he was unkind … (Sipping) And I don't have to tell you how unkind he was. You know. You just know … whatever else I've not been, I was always a great one on psychology.

DAN: You was. (He takes her glass and fills it again and his own.)

MRS. BRAMSON: I'm glad those other people have gone. Awful screeching common women. Answer back, answer back, answer back…. Isn't it time for my medicine?

He hands her glass back. They both drink. DAN sits smiling and nodding at her.

That day you said to me about me reminding you of your mother…. (DAN slowly begins to roll up his sleeves a little way.) These poets and rubbishy people can think all they like about their verses and sonnets and such—that girl Olivia writes sonnets—would you believe it—

DAN: Fancy.

MRS. BRAMSON: They can think all they like, that was a beautiful thought. (Her arm on his shoulder) And when you think you're just an ignorant boy, it's … it's startling.

DAN (with a loud laugh): That's right.

MRS. BRAMSON: I'll never forget that. Not as long as I live … (Trying to stem her tears) I want a chocolate now.

DAN: Right you are!… (Placing her glass and his own on the floor, and walking briskly to the table) A nice one with a soft centre, the kind you like…. Why, here's one straight away…. (He walks slowly to the back of the sofa. In a level voice) Now shut your eyes … open your mouth …

MRS. BRAMSON (purring): Oh, Danny…. You're the only one …

She shuts her eyes. He stands behind her, and puts the chocolate into her mouth. His fingers close slowly and involuntarily over her neck: she feels his touch, and draws both his hands down, giggling, so that his face almost touches hers.

(Maudlin) What strong hands they are…. You're a pet, my little chubby-face, my baby-face, my Danny…. Am I in a draught?

A pause. DAN draws his hands slowly away, walks to the back, and shuts the plush curtains.

I've got to take care of myself, haven't I?

DAN (turning slowly and looking at her): You have.

He picks up the paraffin can briskly and goes towards the kitchen.

MRS. BRAMSON: What are you—

DAN: Only takin' the paraffin tin in the kitchen.

He goes into the kitchen.

MRS. BRAMSON (half to herself): That girl should have carried it in. Anything to annoy me. Tomorrow—(Turning and seeing that he is gone) Danny! (Shrieking suddenly) Danny!

DAN runs back from the kitchen.

DAN: What's the matter?

He looks hastily towards the hall to see no one has heard.

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh, dear, I thought—

DAN (sitting on the back of the sofa): I was only putting the paraffin away. Now—(He leans over the sofa, and raises his arm slowly.)

MRS. BRAMSON (putting her hand on his arm): I think I'll go to bed now.

DAN (after a pause, dropping his arm): O.K.

MRS. BRAMSON: And I'll have my supper-tray in my room. (Petulantly) Get me back into my chair, dear, will you?

DAN (jerkily): O.K….

He crosses to the invalid-chair.

MRS. BRAMSON: Has she put the glass by the bed for my teeth?

DAN (bringing over the chair): I put it there myself.

He helps her into the chair and pulls it over towards the bedroom.

MRS. BRAMSON (suddenly, in the middle of the room): I want to be read to now.

DAN (after a pause of indecision): O.K. (Clapping his hands effusively) What'll you have? The old East Lynne?

MRS. BRAMSON: No, I don't feel like anything sentimental to-night….

DAN (looking towards the desk): What'll you have, then?

MRS. BRAMSON: I think I'd like the Bible.

A pause. He looks at her.

DAN: O.K.

MRS. BRAMSON (as he goes smartly to the sofa, fetches the Bible, pulls up a chair to the right of her, sits, and looks for the place): That piece you were reading…. It's Sunday…. Isn't that nice … all the aches and pains quiet for once … pretty peaceful….

DAN (reading): "Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful…."

MRS. BRAMSON (drowsily): You read so nicely, Danny.

DAN: Very kind of you, my lady. (Reading a little breathlessly) "But his delight is in the Law of the Lord; and in His law doth he meditate day and night—"

MRS. BRAMSON: Sh!

DAN: What?

MRS. BRAMSON: What's that?

DAN: Can you hear something?

MRS. BRAMSON: Yes! A sort of—thumping noise….

She looks at him suddenly, leans forward, and puts her right hand inside his jacket.

Why, Danny, it's you! It's your heart … beating!

He laughs.

Well! Are you all right, dear?

DAN: Fine. I been running along the path, see…. (Garrulously) I been out of training, I suppose; when I was at sea I never missed a day running round the decks, o' course….

MRS. BRAMSON (sleepily): Of course.

DAN (speaking quickly, as if eager to conjure up a vision): I remember those mornings—on some sea—very misty pale it is, with the sun like breathing silver where he's comin' up across the water, but not blowing on the sea at all … and the sea-gulls standing on the deck-rail looking at themselves in the water on the deck, and only me about and nothing else …

MRS. BRAMSON (nodding sleepily): Yes …

DAN: And the sun. Just me and the sun.

MRS. BRAMSON (nodding): There's no sun now, dear; it's night!

A pause. He drums his fingers on the Bible.

DAN: Yes … it's night now. (Reading, feverishly) "The ungodly are not so, but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away——"

MRS. BRAMSON: I think I'll go to bye-byes…. We'll have the rest to-morrow, shall we? (Testily) Help me, dear, help me, you know what I am——

DAN (drumming his fingers: suddenly, urgently): Wait a minute …
I—I've only got two more verses——

MRS. BRAMSON: Hurry it up, dear. I don't want to wake up in the morning with a nasty cold.

DAN (reading slowly): "… Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous…. For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous … But the way of the ungodly … shall perish …"

A pause. He shuts the Bible loudly, and lays it on the table. MRS. BRAMSON can hardly keep awake.

That's the end.

MRS. BRAMSON: Is it?… Ah, well, it's been a long day——

DAN: Are you quite comfortable?

MRS. BRAMSON: A bit achy. Glad to get to bed. Hope that woman's put my bottle in all right. Bet she hasn't——

DAN: Sure you're comfortable? Wouldn't you like a cushion back of your head?

MRS. BRAMSON: No, dear, just wheel me——

DAN (rising): I think you'll be more comfortable with a cushion. (Rising, humming) "I'm a pretty little feller, everybody knows … dunno what to call me …"

He goes deliberately across, humming, and picks up a large black cushion from the sofa. His hands close on the cushion, and he stands silent a moment. He moves slowly back to the other side of her; he stands looking at her, his back three-quarters to the audience and his face hidden: he is holding the cushion in both hands.

MRS. BRAMSON shakes herself out of sleep and looks at him.

MRS. BRAMSON: What a funny look on your face, dear. Smiling like that…. (Foolishly) You look so kind …

He begins to raise the cushion slowly.

So kind … (Absently) What are you going to do with that cushion?…

The lights dim gradually into complete darkness, and the music grows into a thunderous crescendo.