Night Must Fall | Page 5

carrying a cup and saucer on a tray._
DORA: Did you want me, mum?
MRS. BRAMSON: Crown Derby to you, my girl.
DORA (_uncertain_): Beg pardon, mum?
MRS. BRAMSON: I suppose you think that china came from Marks and Spencer?
DORA: Oh.... (_Snivelling_) Oh ... oh ...
OLIVIA (coming between DORA and MRS. BRAMSON): Come along, Dora, it's not as bad as all that.
DORA: Oh, yes, it is.... Oh....
MRS. BRAMSON: You can leave, that's all. You can leave.
_Appalled,_ DORA _drops the tray and breaks the saucer._
That settles it. Now you'll have to leave.
DORA (_with a cry_): Oh, please I ... (_Kneeling, and collecting broken china_) Oh, ma'am--I'm not meself, you see.... (_Snivelling_) I'm in a terrible trouble....
MRS. BRAMSON: Have you been stealing?
DORA (_shocked_): Oh, no!
OLIVIA (_after a pause_): Are you going to have a baby?
_After a pause, DORA nods._
DORA (_putting the china in her apron_): The idea of me stealing.... I do go to Sunday school, anyways....
MRS. BRAMSON: So that's the game. Wouldn't think butter would melt in her mouth.... You'll have to go, of course; I can't have that sort of thing in this house--and stop squeaking! You'll bring my heart on again. It's all this modern life. I've always said so. All these films and rubbish.
OLIVIA: My dear auntie, you can't have a baby by just sitting in the pictures.
MRS. BRAMSON: Go away, and don't interfere.
OLIVIA goes to the left window. DORA _rises.
(Triumphantly_) So you're going to have a child. When?
DORA (_sniffling_): Last August Bank Holiday....
MRS. BRAMSON: What?... Oh!
DORA: I 'aven't got a penny only what I earn--and if I lose my job 'ere--
MRS. BRAMSON: He'll have to marry you.
DORA: Oh, I don't think he's keen....
MRS. BRAMSON: I'll make him keen. Who is the gentleman?
DORA: A boy I know; Dan his name is--'leas' 'e's not a gentleman. He's a page-boy at the Tallboys.
MRS. BRAMSON: The Tallboys? D'you mean that new-fangled place all awnings and loud speakers and things?
DORA: That's right. On the by-pass.
MRS. BRAMSON: Just the nice ripe sort of place for mischief, it always looked to me. All those lanterns.... What's his character, the good- for-nothing scoundrel?
DORA: Oh, he's nice, really. He done the wrong thing by me, but he's all right, if you know what I mean....
MRS. BRAMSON: No, I don't. Where does he come from?
DORA: He's sort of Welsh, I think. 'E's been to sea, too. He's funny, of course. Ever so open. Baby-face they call him. Though I never seem to get 'old of what 'e's thinking, somehow--
MRS. BRAMSON: I'll get hold of what he's thinking, all right. I've had my knife into that sort ever since I was a girl.
DORA: Oh, mum, if I got him to let you speak to him--d'you think I could stay on?
MRS. BRAMSON (_after a pause): If_ he marries you at once.
DORA: Shall I--(_Eagerly_) As a matter of fact, ma'am, he's gone on a message on his bicycle to Payley Hill this morning, and he said he might pop in to see me on the way back--
MRS. BRAMSON: That's right; nothing like visitors to brighten your mornings, eh? I'll deal with him.
DORA: Yes.... (_Going, and turning at the kitchen door--in impulsive relief_) Oh, ma'am--
MRS. BRAMSON: And I'll stop the Crown Derby out of your wages.
DORA (_crestfallen_): Oh!
MRS. BRAMSON: What were you going to say?
DORA: Well, ma'am, I was going to say I don't know how to thank you for your generosity....
_She goes into the kitchen. The clock chimes_.
MRS. BRAMSON: Olivia!
OLIVIA: Yes, auntie?
MRS. BRAMSON: You've forgotten again. Medicine's overdue. Most important.
OLIVIA _crosses to the medicine cupboard and fetches the medicine._ MRS. TERENCE comes in from the kitchen with a vase of flowers and barges between the sofa and the wheelchair.
MRS. TERENCE (_muttering_): All this furniture ...
MRS. BRAMSON (_to her_): Did you know she's having a baby?
MRS. TERENCE (_coldly_): She did mention it in conversation.
MRS. BRAMSON: Playing with fire, that's the game nowadays.
MRS. TERENCE (arranging flowers as OLIVIA _ gives_ MRS. BRAMSON _her medicine_): Playing with fiddlesticks. We're only young once; that 'ot summer too. She's been a fool, but she's no criminal. And, talking of criminals, there's a p'liceman at the kitchen door.
MRS. BRAMSON: A what?
MRS. TERENCE: A p'liceman. A bobby.
MRS. BRAMSON: What does he want?
MRS. TERENCE: Better ask 'im. I know my conscience is clear; I don't know about other people's.
MRS. BRAMSON: But I've never had a policeman coming to see me before!
DORA runs in from the kitchen.
DORA (_terrified_): There's a man there! From the p'lice! 'E said something about the Tallboys! 'E--'e 'asn't come about me, 'as 'e?
MRS. TERENCE: Of course he 'asn't--
MRS. BRAMSON: He may have.
MRS. TERENCE: Don't frighten the girl; she's simple enough now.
MRS. BRAMSON (_sharply_); It's against the law, what she's done, isn't it? (To DORA) Go back in there till he sends for you.
DORA creeps back into the kitchen.
OLIVIA (_at the left window_): He isn't a policeman, as a