Touch and Go | Page 9

first place?
WILLIE. I beg pardon?
OLIVER. What was the address about, to begin with?
WILLIE. Oh, the same old hat--Freedom. But partly it's given to annoy
the Unco Guid, as they pass to their Sabbath banquet of self-
complacency.
OLIVER. What ABOUT Freedom?
WILLIE. Very much as usual, I believe. But you should have been here
ten minutes sooner, before we began to read the lessons. (Laughs.)
ANABEL W. (moving forward, and holding out her hand). You'd
merely have been told what Freedom ISN'T; and you know that already.
How are you, Oliver?
OLIVER. Good God, Anabel!--are you part of the meeting? How long
have you been back in England?
ANABEL. Some months, now. My family have moved here, you
know.
OLIVER. Your family! Where have they moved from?--from the
moon?
ANABEL. No, only from Derby.--How are you, Gerald?

(GERALD twists in his seat to give her his hand.)
GERALD. I saw you before.
ANABEL. Yes, I know you did.
(JOB ARTHUR has disappeared. The men disperse sheepishly into
groups, to stand and sit on their heels by the walls and the causeway
edge. WILLIE HOUGHTON begins to talk to individuals.)
OLIVER. Won't you get in and drive on with us a little way?
ANABEL. No, I was going to church.
OLIVER. Going to church! Is that a new habit?
ANABEL. Not a habit. But I've been twice since I saw you last.
OLIVER. I see. And that's nearly two years ago. It's an annual thing,
like a birthday?
ANABEL. No. I'll go on, then.
OLIVER. You'll be late now.
ANABEL. Shall I? It doesn't matter.
OLIVER. We are going to see you again, aren't we?
ANABEL (after a pause). Yes, I hope so, Oliver.
OLIVER. How have you been these two years--well?--happy?
ANABEL. No, neither. How have you?
OLIVER. Yes, fairly happy. Have you been ill?
ANABEL. Yes, in France I was very ill.

OLIVER. Your old neuritis?
ANABEL. No. My chest. Pneumonia--oh, a complication.
OLIVER. How sickening! Who looked after you? Is it better?
ANABEL. Yes, it's a great deal better.
OLIVER. But, Anabel--we must fix a meeting. I say, wait just a
moment. Could I call on your people? Go into town with me one day. I
don't know whether Gerald intends to see you--whether he intends to
ask you to Lilley Close.
GERALD. Oh, it's all right.
ANABEL. He's no need. I'm fixed up there already.
GERALD. What do you mean?
ANABEL. I am at Lilley Close every day--or most days--to work with
your sister Winifred in the studio.
GERALD. What?--why, how's that?
ANABEL. Your father asked me. My father was already giving her
some lessons.
GERALD. And you're at our house every day?
ANABEL. Most days.
GERALD. Well, I'm--well, I'll be--you managed it very sharp, didn't
you? I've only been away a fort-night.
ANABEL. Your father asked me--he offered me twelve pounds a
month-- I wanted to do something.
GERALD. Oh yes, but you didn't hire yourself out at Lilley Close as a
sort of upper servant just for twelve pounds a month.

ANABEL. You're wrong--you're wrong. I'm not a sort of upper servant
at all--not at all.
GERALD. Oh, yes, you are, if you're paid twelve pounds a
month--three pounds a week. That's about what father's sick-nurse gets,
I believe. You don't do it for twelve pounds a month. You can make
twelve pounds in a day, if you like to work at your little models: I know
you can sell your statuette things as soon as you make them.
ANABEL. But I CAN'T make them. I CAN'T make them. I've lost the
spirit--the--joi de vivre--I don't know what, since I've been ill. I tell you
I've GOT to earn something.
GERALD. Nevertheless, you won't make me believe, Anabel, that
you've come and buried yourself in the provinces--SUCH
provinces--just to earn father's three pounds a week. Why don't you
admit it, that you came back to try and take up the old threads.
OLIVER. Why not, Gerald? Don't you think we ought to take up the
old threads?
GERALD. I don't think we ought to be left without choice. I don't think
Anabel ought to come back and thrust herself on me--for that's what it
amounts to, after all--when one remembers what's gone before.
ANABEL. I DON'T thrust myself on you at all. I know I'm a fool, a
fool, to come back. But I wanted to. I wanted to see you again. Now I
know I've presumed. I've made myself CHEAP to you. I wanted to--I
wanted to. And now I've done it, I won't come to Lilley Close again,
nor anywhere where you are. Tell your father I have gone to France
again--it will be true.
GERALD. You play tricks on me--and on yourself. You know you do.
You do it for the pure