Mediterranean Nights (32 page)

[
Exit
W
ENDY
. R
OBERT
sits down again with his head between his hands
.]

C
HARLES
: What
is
the matter with you, Robert?

R
OBERT
(
mopping his face
): Oh, I don't know.

[
Re-enter
W
ENDY
]

W
ENDY
: It was Father.

R
OBERT
: What—what did he say?

W
ENDY
: That you are to go round to the Briggses' at once.

R
OBERT
(
springing to his feet
): Has he—has he had an attack?

W
ENDY
: No.

R
OBERT
: Does he—know about me?

W
ENDY
: No, it's not that, it's…

R
OBERT
: I know—he's going to have me on the mat in front of old Briggs.

W
ENDY
: No. It's Mother, she's been taken ill. He wants you to help him get her home.

R
OBERT
(
aghast
): Mother!

W
ENDY
: Yes, she's fainted or something, poor dear. Why, Robert, you're as white as a sheet.

R
OBERT
: Good God! How ghastly! (
Rushes from room.)

C
HARLES
: What is the matter with him today?

W
ENDY
: I don't know. He's worried about this row that he is in for with Father, I suppose, but I'm in for something much worse.

C
HARLES
(
sitting down by her on sofa and taking her by the hand
): My poor little dream girl. Was he very angry?

W
ENDY
: Oh, Charles, he was beastly. You should have seen the way he looked at me. That awful stony stare of his makes me want to scream. I'm just terrified.

C
HARLES
(
putting his arms round her
): Never mind, darling. I wish he hadn't got that bottle, though.

W
ENDY
: Oh, what's that matter? I don't suppose it would have done any good, anyhow, but there will be a worse row than ever if he finds you here. You had better go, dear, before they get back.

C
HARLES
: What! And leave you on your own? Not likely. I shall stay and take the blame. He can say what he darn well likes to me. I don't care.

W
ENDY
: It wouldn't do any good, darling, he'll only turn you out—and I'm afraid you will never be allowed in the house again, anyhow.

C
HARLES
: Well, that's not much loss. We can meet outside, as usual.

W
ENDY
(
shaking her head
): Not until this has blown over, dear. I expect he will make me stay in every evening for a month, at least. It's going to be too ghastly.

C
HARLES
(
standing up
): All right—that settles it. I won't let you stay in this rotten house another day. We'll get married and chance it.

W
ENDY
(
rising and putting her hands on his shoulders
): Do you really mean that, Charles?

C
HARLES
: I do. We'll get married right away.

W
ENDY
: Oh, darling—I do love you.

C
HARLES
(
kissing her hands
): My dream girl.

W
ENDY
: But it's awful to lose all that money. It's a fortune.

C
HARLES
: Never mind. I'll get a practice, somehow. After all, happiness does come first, and my father will help us a bit, I'm sure.

[W
ENDY
sways, puts her hand io her head and sits down suddenly
.]

C
HARLES
: What is it, darling?

W
ENDY
: Nothing. I just feel a little faint. It's happiness, I think, and relief. Are you sure you won't regret this afterwards? I should hate that.

C
HARLES
: Of course not. We are just going to forget from now on that there ever was any Aunt Edith, and that she ever left me a legacy. If she hadn't we should have fallen in love just the same, and had just as many difficulties to face, with no prospect of the money. We shall be together, and that's everything.

W
ENDY
: Oh, Charles, you don't know what it will mean to me to get out of this house. I hate it.

[
A door bangs, off
.]

C
HARLES
: Is that them, back already?

W
ENDY
: Yes. The Briggses only live round the corner. Charles, you had better go.

C
HARLES
: Just a minute, darling. Listen. This is what we'll do. Pack everything that you can tonight, then be downstairs at the front door early tomorrow morning, say, at six o'clock, before they are up. Can you manage that?

W
ENDY
: Yes, darling.

C
HARLES
: I'll be waiting for you, and I know a nice quiet boarding-house in Bayswater that you can stay in for the next week or two, while the licence is going through. We will be married as soon as we possibly can, and settle down in some place where we don't know a soul—then you can have the baby in peace, without any worry or scandal.

W
ENDY
(
leaning back on sofa and closing her eyes
): It will be rotten for Mother.

C
HARLES
: Well, I'm afraid we can't help that. I say, are you feeling all right, darling?

W
ENDY
(
slowly
): Yes—but it's all so marvellous—I'm a bit overcome, that's all.

[
Enter
R
OBERT
suddenly
.]

R
OBERT
: Well, thank goodness it's all right!

W
ENDY
: What—Mother? You've got her back, then?

R
OBERT
(
mopping his face
): Yes, we've taken her upstairs.

C
HARLES
: What happened? Is there anything I can do?

R
OBERT
(
cheerfully
): No, she just did a faint, that's all. She has once or twice lately—she does too much. It's a rotten shame that Father makes her run this house on her own at her age. He could well afford a skivvy to help her.

W
ENDY
(
slowly
): What—what about your job? Has Briggs told Father?

R
OBERT
(
vaguely
): Job—oh, yes, I'd forgotten. That's all right, too. Old Briggs took me aside and said he would give me another chance for Father's sake. The old slave-driver knows that he couldn't get anybody else to do the work for the same money.

W
ENDY
(
holding her head
): Robert, you are casual about it. I—I think it's an awful piece of luck.

R
OBERT
: Well—I was worrying about something else—er—Mother, I mean. I say—you're looking pretty dicky.

W
ENDY
: I shall be all right in a minute. Charles, dear, I think you had better go. Father may come in. There's no point now in having a scene.

R
OBERT
: You needn't worry about Father. He's gone to his study and you know he never budges out until it's time to feed.

[W
ENDY
leans back and closes her eyes again
.]

C
HARLES
: What is the matter, Wendy? I'm sure you're feeling ill.

W
ENDY
(
panting slightly
): I—I don't know. I've got an awful buzzing in the head. Oh, I feel rotten.

C
HARLES
: All this trouble has upset you, I expect.

[R
OBERT
looks furtively in the direction of the Thyroid bottle and then at
W
ENDY
.]

W
ENDY
: Charles…

C
HARLES
: Yes, darling?

W
ENDY
: I don't know what's the matter with me. I—I feel just as though I were tight.

[C
HARLES
takes her wrist to feel her pulse
. R
OBERT
gives them another furtive look and after a minute slinks towards the door
.]

R
OBERT
: Well, I think I'll leave you two—go up to my room.

C
HARLES
(
dropping
W
ENDY
'S
wrist and standing up
): Wait a minute, young man—you stay here.

R
OBERT
(
nervously
): Why?

C
HARLES
(
walking over to him
): Look here, Robert, why were you so anxious to know all about Thyroid just now?

R
OBERT
(
drawing away
): I told you. I was thinking out a story.

C
HARLES
(
gripping him by the lapels of his coat
): That's a lie, and you know it.

R
OBERT
: It's not.

C
HARLES
: It is. Wendy is suffering from Thyroid poisoning.

R
OBERT
(
truculently
): How do
you
know?

C
HARLES
: Because it's my job.

R
OBERT
: You're not a doctor yet.

C
HARLES
: No, and I'm not a fool, either. Wendy's got all the symptoms—you're full of curious questions about it, and there's the drug on the table.

W
ENDY
(
doubling up in pain
): Oh, Charles—I do feel so ill.

C
HARLES
(
turning his head sharply while he still keeps his hold on
R
OBERT
): Wendy—darling—tell me, did you take it yourself? How much did you take?

W
ENDY
: Oh, Charles—I don't know. I didn't take it, but I—I feel ghastly. My—my head's simply swimming.

C
HARLES
(
angrily
): Now, then, Robert. I knew you'd been monkeying with it.

R
OBERT
: I didn't give it her.

C
HARLES
(
shaking him roughly
): Stop lying, you young fool. Don't you understand that her life may be in danger?

R
OBERT
: I didn't give it her, I tell you.

C
HARLES
: Yes, you did. How much did you give her? Tell me at once.

R
OBERT
: I—I didn't. I swear I didn't.

W
ENDY
(
now writhing on sofa
): Charles—oh, please get—get a doctor. I—I've got awful pains—right—right through me.

C
HARLES
(
to
R
OBERT
fiercely
): You know what happened. If you don't tell me I'll get the police.

R
OBERT
: No—Charles. No, don't do that.

C
HARLES
: I will. They'll make you talk.

R
OBERT
(
gasping
): It was all a mistake. I meant to try it on myself.

C
HARLES
: You fool!

R
OBERT
: The tea cups got mixed up.

C
HARLES
: Never mind about that. How much did you put in?

R
OBERT
: Five of them.

C
HARLES
(
suddenly relaxing and letting go of
R
OBERT
): Thank God it wasn't more.

W
ENDY
: Oh, Charles, tell me that I'll be all right—that I won't die.

C
HARLES
(
going over to her
): You won't, darling. If you had been going to die you would be dead by now.

W
ENDY
: I—I've got awful—shooting pains.

C
HARLES
(
taking her hand
): Listen, darling, you must go to bed at once… while I get a doctor.

W
ENDY
(
rising with
C
HARLES
'S
help
): Oh—it's agony. Will he—will he be able to give me something?

C
HARLES
: I'm afraid you are in for a rotten time for the next few hours—but there's one thing. It won't be necessary for us to marry now until this time next year.

W
ENDY
(
standing, supported by
C
HARLES
): Darling—you don't mean…?

C
HARLES
: Yes, I do. That's one of the curious effects of an overdose of Thyroid—but in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it kills you instead.

W
ENDY
: Then—oh, my dear—we'll get the five thousand, after all.

C
HARLES
: I wouldn't have taken the risk of giving you Thyroid for fifty thousand—and the moment you're well enough you're going to leave this house, just the same.

R
OBERT
: What the devil are you two talking about?

[
The door is suddenly burst open. Enter
F
ATHER
,
clutching Crème de Menthe bottle—two-thirds empty—in one hand
.]

F
ATHER
(
glaring at
C
HARLES
and
W
ENDY
): What—what was in this bottle? (
Shudders and leans against door.)

C
HARLES
(
lowering
W
ENDY
to sofa
): Good God—you haven't drunk it?

F
ATHER
: Ai—Ai—Ai have. What was in that Crème de Menthe?