Night Must Fall | Page 8

come! You're being a bit hard on the old countenance, aren't you?
MRS. TERENCE: Well, 'e's not going to walk about with bloodshot eyes and a snarl all over his face, is he?
_She goes into the kitchen._
HUBERT: That's true enough.
MRS. BRAMSON: Missing woman indeed! She's more likely than not at this very moment sitting in some saloon bar. Or the films, I shouldn't wonder. (To OLIVIA) pass me my wool, will you....
OLIVIA _crosses to the desk. A knock at the kitchen door_: DORA _appears, cautiously._
DORA: Was it about me?
OLIVIA: Of course it wasn't.
DORA (_relieved_): Oh.... Please, mum, 'e's 'ere.
MRS. BRAMSON: Who?
DORA: My boy fr--my gentleman friend, ma'am, from the Tallboys.
MRS. BRAMSON: I'm ready for him. (Waving aside the wool which OLIVIA _brings to her_) The sooner he's made to realise what his duty _is_, the better. _I_'ll give him baby-face!
DORA: Thank you, ma'am.
_She goes out through the front door._
HUBERT: What gentleman? What duty?
OLIVIA: The maid's going to have a baby. (_She crosses and puts the wool in the cupboard of the desk._)
HUBERT: Is she, by Jove!... Don't look at me like that, Mrs. Bramson! I've only been in the county two weeks.... But is he from the Tallboys?
MRS. BRAMSON: A page-boy or something of the sort.
DORA _comes back to the front door, looks back, and beckons. She is followed by_ DAN, _who saunters past her into the room. He is a young fellow wearing a blue pill-box hat, uniform trousers, a jacket too small for him, and bicycle-clips: the stub of a cigarette dangles between his lips. He speaks with a rough accent, indeterminate, but more Welsh than anything else.
His personality varies very considerably as the play proceeds: the impression he gives at the moment is one of totally disarming good humour and childlike unself-consciousness. It would need a very close observer to suspect that there is something wrong somewhere--that this personality is completely assumed._ DORA _shuts the front door and comes to the back of the sofa._
MRS. BRAMSON (_sternly_): Well?
DAN (_saluting_): Mornin', all!
MRS. BRAMSON: So you're Baby-face?
DAN: That's me. (_Grinning._) Silly name, isn't it? (_After a pause._) I must apologise to all and sundry for this fancy dress, but it's my working togs. I been on duty this mornin', and my hands isn't very clean. You see, I didn't know as it was going to be a party.
MRS. BRAMSON: Party?
DAN (looking at OLIVIA): Well, it's ladies, isn't it?
HUBERT: Are you shy with ladies?
DAN (smiling at OLIVIA): Oh, yes.
OLIVIA _moves away coldly._ DAN turns to MRS. BRAMSON.
MRS. BRAMSON (_cutting_): You smoke, I see.
DAN: Yes. (_Taking the stub out of his mouth with alacrity and taking off his hat_) Oh, I'm sorry. I always forget my manners with a cigarette when I'm in company.... (_Pushing the stub behind his ear, as_ OLIVIA _crosses to the armchair_) I always been clumsy in people's houses. I am sorry.
MRS. BRAMSON: You know my maid, Dora Parkoe, I believe?
DAN: Well, we have met, yes ... (with a grin at DORA).
MRS. BRAMSON (to DORA): Go away!
DORA creeps back into the kitchen.
You walked out with her last August Bank Holiday?
DAN: Yes.... Excuse me smiling, but it sounds funny when you put it like that, doesn't it?
MRS. BRAMSON: You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
DAN (_soberly_): Oh, I am.
MRS. BRAMSON: How did it happen?
DAN (_embarrassed_): Well ... we went ... did you have a nice bank holiday?
MRS. BRAMSON: Answer my question!
HUBERT: Were you in love with the wench?
DAN: Oh, yes!
MRS. BRAMSON (_triumphantly_): When did you first meet her?
DAN: Er--bank holiday morning.
MRS. BRAMSON: Picked her up, I suppose?
DAN: Oh, no, I didn't pick her up! I asked her for a match, and then I took her for a bit of a walk, to take her mind off her work--
HUBERT: You seem to have succeeded.
DAN (_smiling at him, then catching_ MRS. BRAMSON's _eye_): I've thought about it a good bit since, I can tell you. Though it's a bit awkward talking about it in front of strangers; though you all look very nice people; but it is a bit awkward--
HUBERT: I should jolly well think it is awkward for a chap! Though of course, never having been in the same jam myself--
MRS. BRAMSON: I haven't finished with him yet.
HUBERT: In that case I'm going for my stroll ...
_He makes for the door to the hall._
OLIVIA: You work at the Tallboys, don't you?
DAN: Yes, miss. (_Grinning_) Twenty-four hours a day, miss.
HUBERT (coming to DAN'S _left_): Then perhaps you can tell us something about the female who's been murdered?--
An unaccountable pause. DAN looks slowly from OLIVIA to HUBERT, and back again.
Well, can you tell us? You know there was a Mrs. Chalfont staying at the Tallboys who went off one day?
DAN: Yes.
HUBERT: And nobody's seen her since?
DAN: I know.
MRS. BRAMSON: What's she like?
DAN (to MRS. BRAMSON): But I thought you said--or somebody said--something