The Mousetrap and Other Plays (83 page)

ROYDE
. (
Moving to
L
.
of the chaise
) That's quite an understatement. (
He turns to Mary.
) How's her arthritis?

MARY
. It makes her rather helpless, poor dear.

ROYDE
. I'm sorry about that.

MARY
. (
Moving on to the rostrum
) Can I offer you a drink?

ROYDE
. No, thank you. (
He moves on to the
R
.
end of the rostrum and looks out of the window.
) What's that great caravanserai over there?

MARY
. That's the new
Easterhead Bay Hotel.
It was only finished last year—isn't it a horror? (
She closes the window.
) Lady Tressilian doesn't like this window opened, she's always afraid that someone might fall out. Yes, Easterhead Bay is a terrific resort, you know, nowadays. (
She crosses to the chaise, picks up Kay's towel and tidies the cushions.
) I suppose when you came here as a boy there was nothing the other side of the estuary except a few fishermen's cottages. (
She pauses.
) You did come here for your school holidays, didn't you? (
She puts the towel tidily on the end of the chaise.
)

ROYDE
. Yes, old Sir Mortimer used to take me out sailing—he was mad keen on sailing.

MARY
. Yes. He was drowned out there.

ROYDE
. Lady Tressilian saw it happen, I wonder she can go on living here.

MARY
. I think she preferred to remain with her memories. But she won't have any boat kept here—she even had the boathouse pulled down.

ROYDE
. So if I want to sail or go for a row, I've got to go to the ferry.

MARY
. (
Crossing to the butler's tray
) Or cross to the Easterhead side. That's where all the boats are nowadays.

ROYDE
. (
Moving above the chaise.
) I hate changes. Always have. (
Rather self-consciously.
) May I ask who else is staying here?

MARY
. Old Mr. Treves—you know him? (
Royde nods.
) And the Stranges.

ROYDE
. (
Moving to
R
of her.
) The Stranges? You mean—Audrey Strange, Nevile's first wife?

MARY
. Audrey, yes. But Nevile Strange and his—new wife are here, too.

ROYDE
. Isn't that a bit odd?

MARY
. Lady Tressilian thinks it very odd indeed.

ROYDE
. Bit awkward—what? (
Mathew Treves enters by the French windows
R
.,
fanning himself with an old-fashioned panama hat. He is an elderly and distinguished lawyer of ripe experience and great shrewdness. He has retired from his London firm some years ago and is now a keen observer of human nature. His voice is dry and precise.
)

TREVES
. (
As he enters.
) Rather too much glare on the terrace today . . . (
He sees Royde.
) Ah, Thomas. Nice to see you after all these years. (
He stands up
L
.
of the chaise.
)

ROYDE
. (
Moving to Treves.
) I'm very glad to be here. (
He shakes hands with Treves.
)

MARY
. (
Moving to Royde's suitcase.
) Shall I take your things up to your room?

ROYDE
. (
Crossing quickly to Mary.
) No, no, I can't let you do that. (
He picks up his suitcase and golf clubs. Mary leads the way to the door
L
.,
sees the sweeper and picks it up.
)

MARY
. (
With a vexed exclamation.
) Really! Mrs. Barrett . . . These daily women are impossible. It makes Lady Tressilian very angry when things are left all over the place.

ROYDE
. (
Following Mary to the door
L
.) I think my sudden arrival on the terrace frightened the poor woman. (
He looks towards Treves. Treves smiles.
)

MARY
. Oh, I see. (
Mary and Royde exit
L
.
Treves turns to the bureau, sees the torn photograph in the wastepaper basket, stoops with a little difficulty and picks up the pieces. His eyebrows rise and he makes a little sound like “Tut, tut.”)

KAY
.
(
Off
L
.;
calling.
) Where are you going to, Nevile?

NEVILE
. (
Off
L
.) Only into the house for a moment. (
Treves puts the pieces of the photograph into the wastepaper basket. Nevile Strange enters by the French windows
L
.
He wears tennis kit and carries the remains of a glass of lemonade. He crosses to the coffee table and puts the glass on it.
) Isn't Audrey here?

TREVES
. No.

NEVILE
. Where is she? Do you know?

TREVES
. I have no idea.

KAY
. (
Off, calling.
) Nevile—Nevile. (
Treves moves down
R
.
of the chaise.
)

NEVILE
. (
Frowning.
) Oh, damn!

KAY
. (
Off, nearer.
) Nevile.

NEVILE
. (
Crossing to the French windows and calling.
) Coming—coming. (
Royde enters
L
.)

ROYDE
. (
Moving to
L
.
of the coffee table.
) Nevile.

NEVILE
. (
Moving to
R
.
of the coffee table.
) Hullo, Thomas. (
They shake hands above the coffee table.
) What time did you get here?

ROYDE
. Just now.

NEVILE
. Must be quite a long time since I saw you last. When was it you were home, three years ago?

ROYDE
. Seven.

NEVILE
. Good Lord, is it, really? How time flies.

KAY
. (
Off.
) Nevile!

NEVILE
. (
Moving above the chaise.
) All right, Kay. (
Kay enters by the French windows
R
.)

KAY
. (
Moving to
R
.
of Nevile.
) Why can't you come? Ted and I are waiting.

NEVILE
. I just came to see if Audrey . . .

KAY
. (
Turning away.
) Oh, bother Audrey—we can get on quite well . . . (
Kay and Nevile exit by the French windows
R
.
Their voices die away.
)

ROYDE
. And who is Kay?

TREVES
. (
Moving below the chaise to
R
.
of the coffee table.
) The present Mrs. Nevile Strange. (
Lady Tressilian enters
L
.
Mary assists her on. Lady Tressilian uses a walking stick. She is a white-haired, aristocratic-looking woman, a little younger than Treves. Mary carries Lady Tressilian's sewing.
) Good morning, Camilla.

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. Good morning, Mathew. (
She greets Royde affectionately.
) Well, Thomas, so here you are. I'm very glad to see you.

ROYDE
. (
Rather shyly.
) Very glad to be here. (
Mary puts the sewing in the work-box and arranges the cushion in the armchair
L
.
C
.)

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. Tell me all about yourself.

ROYDE
. (
Mumbling.
) Nothing to tell.

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. (
Studying him.
) You look exactly the same as you did at fourteen. That same boiled owl look. And no more conversation now than you had then. (
Treves moves up
C
.
Mary moves to the butler's tray.
)

ROYDE
. Never had the gift of the gab.

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. Then it's time you learnt. Have some sherry? Mathew? Thomas?

ROYDE
. Thank you. (
Mary pours two glasses of sherry.
)

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. (
Indicating the sofa.
) Then go and sit down. Somebody's got to amuse me by bringing me all the gossip. (
She sits in the armchair
L
.
C
.) Why can't you be more like Adrian? I wish you'd known his brother, Mary, a really brilliant young man, witty, amusing—(
Royde sits on the chaise.
) all the things that Thomas isn't. And don't go grinning at me, Thomas Royde, as though I were praising you. I'm scolding you.

ROYDE
. Adrian was certainly the show man of our family.

MARY
. (
Handing a glass of sherry to Treves.
) Did he—was he—killed in the war?

ROYDE
. No, he was killed in a motor accident two years ago.

MARY
. How dreadful! (
She hands a glass of sherry to Royde.
)

TREVES
. The impossible way young people drive cars nowadays . . . (
Lady Tressilian picks up her sewing.
)

ROYDE
. In his case it was some fault in the steering. (
He takes his pipe from his pocket and looks at Lady Tressilian.
) I'm so sorry, may I? (
Mary pours another glass of sherry.
)

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. I wouldn't know you without your pipe. But don't think you can just sit back and puff contentedly while you're here. You've got to exert yourself and
help.

ROYDE
. (
Surprised.
) Help? (
Treves perches himself on the upstage end of the chaise.
)

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. We've got a difficult situation on our hands. Have you been told who's here? (
Mary takes the glass of sherry to Lady Tressilian. To Mary.
) No, no, much too early, pour it back into the decanter. (
Mary resignedly pours the glass of sherry into the decanter.
)

ROYDE
. Yes, I've just heard.

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. Well, don't you think it's disgraceful?

ROYDE
. Well . . .

TREVES
. You'll have to be a little more explicit, Camilla.

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. I intend to be. When I was a girl such things did not happen. Men had their affairs, naturally, but they did
not
allow them to break up their married life.

TREVES
. Regrettable though the modern point of view may be, one has to accept it, Camilla. (
Mary moves to the easy chair down
L
.
and sits on the upstage arm of it.
)

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. That's not the point. We were all delighted when Nevile married Audrey. Such a sweet gentle girl. (
To Royde.
) You were all in love with her—you, Adrian and Nevile. Nevile won.

ROYDE
. Naturally. He always wins.

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. Of all the defeatist . . .

ROYDE
. I don't blame her, Nevile had everything—good looks, first-class athlete—even had a shot at swimming the channel.

TREVES
. And all the kudos of that early Everest attempt—never stuck up about it.

ROYDE
.
Mens sana in corpore sana.

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. Sometimes I think that's the only bit of Latin you men ever learn in your expensive education.

TREVES
. My dear Camilla, you must allow for its being invariably quoted by one's housemaster whenever he is slightly embarrassed.

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. Mary, I wish you wouldn't sit on the arms of chairs—you know how much I dislike it.

MARY
. (
Rising.
) Sorry, Camilla. (
She sits in the easy chair down
L
.
Treves rises guiltily and quickly, then sits above Royde on the chaise.
)

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. Now where was I?

MARY
. You were saying that Audrey married Nevile.

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. Oh, yes. Well, Audrey married Nevile and we were all delighted. Mortimer was particularly pleased, wasn't he, Mathew?

TREVES
. Yes, yes.

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. And they were very happy together until this creature Kay came along; how Nevile could leave Audrey for a girl like Kay I simply cannot imagine.

TREVES
. I can—I've seen it happen so often.

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. Kay is quite the wrong wife for Nevile, no background.

TREVES
. But a singularly attractive young woman.

LADY
TRESSILIAN
. Bad stock, her mother was notorious all over the Riviera.