Night Must Fall | Page 2

drawn across the entrance to the hall; they are open at the moment. Windows, one on each side of the hall, with window-seats and net curtains beyond which can be glimpsed the pine-trees of the forest. In the left wall, upstage, a door leading to the kitchen. In the left wall, downstage, the fireplace; above it, a cretonne-covered sofa, next to a very solid cupboard built into the wall; below it a cane armchair. In the right wall, upstage, a door leading to _MRS. BRAMSON'S _bedroom. In the right wall, downstage, wide-open paned doors leading to the sun-room. Right downstage, next the sun-room, a large dining-table with four straight chairs round it. Between the bedroom and the sun-room, a desk with books on it, a cupboard below it, and a hanging mirror on the wall above. Above the bedroom, a corner medicine cupboard. Between the hall and the right window, an occasional table.
The bungalow is tawdry but cheerful; it is built entirely of wood, with an oil lamp fixed in the wall over the occasional table. The room is comfortably furnished, though in fussy and eccentric Victorian taste; stuffed birds, Highland cattle in oils, antimacassars, and wax fruit are unobtrusively in evidence. On the mantelpiece, an ornate chiming clock. The remains of breakfast on a tray on the table_.
MRS. BRAMSON _is sitting in a wheeled chair in the centre of the room. She is a fussy, discontented, common woman of fifty-five, old- fashioned both in clothes and coiffure_; NURSE LIBBY, _a kindly, matter-of-fact young north-country woman in district nurse's uniform, is sitting on the sofa, massaging one of her hands_. OLIVIA GRAYNE _sits on the old woman's right; holding a book; she is a subdued young woman of twenty-eight, her hair tied severely in a knot, wearing horn-rimmed spectacles; there is nothing in any way remarkable about her at the moment_. HUBERT LAURIE _is sitting in the armchair, scanning the "Daily Telegraph." He is thirty-five, moustached, hearty, and pompous, wearing plus fours and smoking a pipe.
A pause. The church bells die away_.
MRS. BRAMSON (_sharply_): Go on.
OLIVIA (_reading_): "... Lady Isabel humbly crossed her attenuated hands upon her chest. 'I am on my way to God,' she whispered, 'to answer for all my sins and sorrows.' 'Child,' said Miss Carlyle, 'had I anything to do with sending you from ...' (_turning over_) '... East Lynne?' Lady Isabel shook her head and cast down her gaze."
MRS. BRAMSON (_aggressively_): Now that's what I call a beautiful character.
NURSE: Very pretty. But the poor thing'd have felt that much better tucked up in 'ospital instead of lying about her own home gassing her 'ead off----
MRS. BRAMSON: Sh!
NURSE: Sorry.
OLIVIA (_reading_): "'Thank God,' inwardly breathed Miss Corny.... 'Forgive me,' she said loudly and in agitation. 'I want to see Archibald,' whispered Lady Isabel."
MRS. BRAMSON: You don't see many books like East Lynne about nowadays.
HUBERT: No, you don't.
OLIVIA (_reading_): "'I want to see Archibald,' whispered Lady Isabel. 'I have prayed Joyce to bring him to me, and she will not----'"
MRS. BRAMSON (_sharply_): Olivia!
OLIVIA: Yes, auntie?
MRS. BRAMSON (_craftily_): You're not skipping, are you?
OLIVIA: Am I?
MRS. BRAMSON: You've missed out about Lady Isabel taking up her cross and the weight of it killing her. I may be a fool, but I do know East Lynne.
OLIVIA: Perhaps there were two pages stuck together.
MRS. BRAMSON: Very convenient when you want your walk, eh? Yes, I am a fool, I suppose, as well as an invalid.
OLIVIA: But I thought you were so much better----
NURSE: You'd two helpings of bacon at breakfast, remember----
MRS. BRAMSON: Doctor's orders. You know every mouthful's agony to me.
HUBERT (_deep in his paper_): There's a man here in Weston-super- Mare who stood on his head for twenty minutes for a bet, and he hasn't come to yet.
MRS. BRAMSON (_sharply_): I thought this morning I'd never be able to face the day.
HUBERT: But last night when you opened the port----
MRS. BRAMSON: I've had a relapse since then. My heart's going like anything. Give me a chocolate.
OLIVIA _rises and fetches her a chocolate from a large box on the table._
NURSE: How does it feel?
MRS. BRAMSON: Nasty. (_Munching her chocolate._) I know it's neuritis.
NURSE: You know, Mrs. Bramson, what you want isn't massage at all, only exercise. Your body----
MRS. BRAMSON: Don't you dictate to me about my body. Nobody here understands my body or anything else about me. As for sympathy, I've forgotten the meaning of the word. (To OLIVIA) What's the matter with your face?
OLIVIA (_startled_): I--I really don't know.
MRS. BRAMSON: It's as long as my arm.
OLIVIA (_drily_): I'm afraid it's made like that.
_She crosses the room, and comes back again._
MRS. BRAMSON: What are you walking up and down for? What's the matter with you? Aren't you happy here?
OLIVIA: It's a bit lonely, but I'll get used to it.
MRS. BRAMSON: Lonely? All