Night Must Fall | Page 8

What?
OLIVIA: Well, here we all are, perfectly ordinary English people. We
woke up ... no, it's silly.
MRS. BRAMSON: Of course it's silly.
BELSIZE (giving MRS. BRAMSON _an impatient look_): No, go on.
OLIVIA: Well, we woke up this morning, thinking, "Here's another
day." We got up, looked at the weather, and talked; and here we all are,
still talking.... And all that time----
MRS. BRAMSON: My dear girl, who are you to expect a
policeman----
BELSIZE (_quelling her sternly_): If you please! I want to hear what
she's got to say. (To OLIVIA) Well?
OLIVIA: All that time ... there may be something ... lying in the woods.
Hidden under a bush, with two feet just showing. Perhaps one high heel
catching the sunlight, with a bird perched on the end of it; and the
other--a stockinged foot, with blood ... that's dried into the openwork
stocking. And there's a man walking about somewhere, and talking,
like us; and he woke up this morning, and looked at the weather. ...
And he killed her.... (_Smiling, looking out of the window_) The cat
doesn't believe a word of it, anyhow. It's just walking away.
MRS. BRAMSON: Well!

MRS. TERENCE: Ooh, Miss Grayne, you give me the creeps! I'm glad
it is morning, that's all I can say....
BELSIZE: I don't think the lady can quite describe herself as ordinary,
after that little flight of fancy!
MRS. BRAMSON: Oh, that's nothing; she writes poetry. Jingle jingle--
BELSIZE: I can only hope she's wrong, or it'll mean a nice job of work
for us! ... Well, if anything funny happens, nip along to Shepperley
police station. Pity you're not on the 'phone. Good morning.... Good
morning....
MRS. TERENCE: This way....
She follows BELSIZE into the hall.
BELSIZE: No, don't bother.... Good morning.
_He goes out._ MRS. TERENCE shuts the door after him.
MRS. BRAMSON (to HUBERT): What are you staring at?
HUBERT (_crossing to the fireplace_): Funny, I can't get out of my
mind what Olivia said about the man being somewhere who's done it.
MRS. TERENCE (_coming into the room_): Why, Mr. Laurie, it might
be you! After all, there's nothing in your face that proves it isn't!
HUBERT: Oh, come, 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