No Laughing Matter (17 page)

REGAN
[
sleepily
and
drunkenly
]:
Always keep in with the nobs and the upper ten. Go where the splosh is. Dont mix yerself up with the muck.

[
REGAN
nods
off
for
a
moment,
then
wakes
herself
up
with
a
peculiarly
loud
snore,
then
nods
off
again.
Exit
MARCUS
in
a
reflective
mood.
The
lights
go
out
and
light
up
again
immediately
upon
the
lower
half
of
the
divided
stage
to
show
a
few
minutes
later
the
dining-room
in
wild
chaos.
MOUSE,
standing
behind
the
dining-room
table,
is
with
some
difficulty
holding
a
shrieking
parrot
with
one
hand,
while
with
the
other
she
dabs
its
head
with
a
table
napkin
which
she
deliberately
souses
in
vinegar
from
a
bottle
on
the
sideboard.
GRANNY MATTHEWS,
seated
on
a
dining-room
chair
moved
away
from
the
table,
has
Pom
on
her
lap
while
she
binds
up
her
small
paw
with
her
handkerchief
Pom
also
bleeds
from
the
head.
BILLY
POP
on
hands
and
knees
mops
up
with
a
table
napkin
the
wine
from
a
broken
bottle
and
squeezes
it
through
a
handkerchief
spread
over
the
top
of
a
decanter.
GLADYS
has
the
tortoiseshell
kitten
on
her
ample
lap;
MARGARET
holds
the
white
one
in
her
arms;
they
are
both
stroking
and
calming
their
charges.
RUPERT
holds
the
black
and
white
kitten
and
dabs
at
its
bleeding
eye
with
the
tip
of
a
handkerchief
dipped
in
water.
MARCUS
is
kneeling
at
GLADYS’
feet
and
talking
to
the
tortoiseshell
kitten;
QUENTIN
stands
behind
MARGARET
and
every
now
and
again
strokes
the
white
kitten’s
ear.
Centre
stage
stands
SUKEY,
white
faced
and
trembling
as
she
holds
out
towards
the
audience
the
ginger
kitten,
bloody
and
lifeless.
Next
to
her
and
in
even
more
dramatic
posture,
the
COUNTESS
holds
out
the
kittens’
basket
with
its
scarlet
lining.
]

MRS MATTHEWS
junior: Poor little objects! The home we
provided
has hardly proved a castle.

MOUSE:
What I shall never forgive or forget is that you all thought of nothing but yourselves! Mr Polly came down here – poor innocent – to a den of little hell cats. Mr Polly who always goes his own little ways and isn’t a bother to anyone! And now look at his poor tail!

GRANNY MATTHEWS:
And Pom says, ‘Please, Mother, I’m trying to be a very brave little dog but those kittens
have
hurt me!’ Never mind, Mother’ll give her a little VC all to herself. I don’t know
that I oughtn’t to go straight to the vet. Nasty high smelling little things. Heaven knows where their claws may have been.

GLADYS:
I’m sure you needn’t worry about that, Granny. The kittens haven’t been out of the house since they were born. They can’t possibly be dirty.

MOUSE:
Good heavens, Girl! Where’s your nose? The smell in this house!

GRANNY MATTHEWS:
A lot of stray kittens from heaven knows where. I’m surprised at you, Will, having them in here.

MR MATTHEWS
junior: For various reasons not too subtle even for you to understand, Mother, the house is somewhat dilapidated, but shabby as we are, we don’t turn away strangers from the door.

GRANNY MATTHEWS:
Look after your own, my dear. That was your father’s motto. He never trusted vagrants – men or animals – not one of them if they hadn’t a place to call their own. Your father and I always took pride in what was ours. I didn’t want to let little Pom out of my sight, only your children knew better.

QUENTIN:
Granny, how can you? That’s why the world’s like it is. Because grandfather’s generation couldn’t see further than their own property and their fat noses. Beware of a closed heart, Granny. No government debentures will make up for that.

MOUSE:
Good Heavens! Stop moralizing boy. And you talk about Victorians!

MARGARET:
Quentin was talking about
false
moralizing, Aunt Mouse. Weeping over little Nell and then letting little
matchsellers
die. Like Grandfather’s generation.

GRANNY MATTHEWS:
What a wicked thing to say, girl. How can you speak like that? Your grandfather was the kindest of men.

MARGARET:
Oh, I didn’t mean grandfather himself, of course. It was an attitude of mind of a whole generation.

MOUSE:
You should be more careful of what you say, Margaret. Uttering generalities about something you know nothing of. And all because two lonely old women object when their pets are savaged by wild cats.

GRANNY MATTHEWS:
Anyone of sense would have had them put away.
QUENTIN:
That sort of sense decided on the use of mustard gas.

MOUSE:
Oh, don’t be so absurd, Quentin. First Margaret accuses your grandfather of being sentimental and now you accuse
your grandmother of being without heart. Use a little logic.

RUPERT
[
dramatically
]:
He does, Aunt Mouse. Easy tears and a stony heart are not strangers. Empty postures. Hypocrisy. That’s what we charge the past with.

MOUSE:
You charge! My dear boy, you want to watch your words. I thought you were seeking our help. You don’t go about it very wisely.

QUENTIN:
But Aunt Mouse, you can’t ask us to let self-interest affect what’s right and wrong. Every one knows where secret diplomacy led to.

MOUSE:
Secret diplomacy! It wouldn’t do you any harm to learn a little tact. Tact is only another name for kindness you know. [
The
parrot
shrieks.
]
Oh, shut up, Mr Polly, I’m talking. [
The
parrot
shrieks
again.
]
Now look what you’ve done. You’ve made cross words between me and Mr Polly, when the poor old man’s in pain. And all over a bunch of beastly stray cats.

MARCUS:
The kittens were not stray. They were Leonora’s. This is their house. Mr Polly and Pom are only visitors. Uninvited visitors, too.

GRANNY MATTHEWS:
Pom uninvited! Did you hear what the little boy said, Pom? That to the little dog, Marcus, who let you pull her tail when you were only a baby. I’m sure if Pom’s unwelcome, her mistress is too.

MARCUS:
Anyone’s unwelcome who savages our kittens. If I had my way I should put a millstone – if I knew where to find one – round Mr Polly’s strong neck and little Miss Pom’s slender one. And I’d cast them into the uttermost depths. And then pull the flush. And yet when one thinks that the beautiful Elagabulus suffered a similar doacal death, it seems too good for them.

MOUSE:
You use too many big words for a small boy, my lad. That’s the trouble with all you children. Too many words.

SUKEY
[
stepping
forward
and
holding
out
the
dead
ginger
kitten
]: You complain of our words. What about your actions? You don’t seem to realize what’s happened. This kitten is dead, Granny. Savagely killed, Aunt Mouse. Murdered by both of you. And you complain of our words. [
She
lays
the
dead
kitten
reverently
in
the
basket.
]

GRANNY MATTHEWS:
Poor little thing! But I dare say it’s just as well, Sukey. Motherless kittens, you know. Nobody wants them these days, living in flats and all the contrivance that’s asked of one.
Anyway, even if it wasn’t for Pom, I could never have a cat in the house. They upset me.

SUKEY:
We shouldn’t let the cats come to your house, or to anyone else’s.
This
is their home.

MOUSE:
I can tell you this, my dear, if this house is going to be filled with cats you won’t see your Aunt Mouse here. Though that can hardly be important as long as she stumps up with cheques when asked.
[
There
is
a
silence
as
no
one
answers.
]

MOUSE:
That’s clear enough. As long as I know. [
Again
there
is
a
silence
]
I’m surprised you don’t show more spirit, Mrs Matthews. We’re evidently not wanted here.

QUENTIN:
Aunt Mouse, you’ve no right to blackmail us.

MARGARET:
My dear Aunt Mouse, of course you’re wanted. But so are these poor unwanted kittens.

GRANNY MATTHEWS:
I’m afraid, my dear, Miss Rickard is right. At any rate as far as I’m concerned. I can’t come to a house where there are cats. Apart from Pom, they give me asthma. But I dare say they’re only a passing fancy – what do they call it nowadays? – a craze. They’ll be gone the next time I come, I expect.

SUKEY:
I’m afraid they won’t be, Granny. We’re sorry about your asthma, of course. But you can’t ask us to turn the kittens out into the street because you don’t like them.

MOUSE:
Of course not. Take them to a vet and have them put away. The Poor People’s Dispensary for Sick Animals will do it free. There’s one in Fulham Road, if not nearer.

ALL THE YOUNG MATTHEWS:
Put away?

MOUSE:
Yes, put away. I’m not an old sentimentalist as you think. If it’s Mr Poll this time, it may be me the next. They’re dangerous. Clara, are you going to bring these young idiots to their senses? I hope you all clearly understand: if those cats remain in this house, I do not set foot in it. [
Silence
again.
]
Well, Clara, are they going to be got rid of?

MRS MATTHEWS
junior: Now children, do you hear that?
Remember
, your Aunt and your Grandmother are used to having things their own way. They can afford to. Shall I tell them the kittens are to go to kingdom come? [
An
embarrassed
silence.
]
Very well. My dear Mouse, whatever else I do with the children, I do not bully or blackmail them. They’ve decided, and so it must be. But I hear
Regan’s footsteps. And steady footsteps at that. You’ve obviously done wonders with her, Quentin. I knew it needed a man’s hand. Forget all this nonsense, Mouse, and remember there’s your favourite crême brûlé.

MOUSE:
I’m not to be blackmailed through my stomach, thank you, Clara. Mr Polly and I can do perfectly well with barley water at the Club.

[
She
goes
to
the
door.
It
opens
and
REGAN
totters
in
bearing
at
last
the
roast
ducks
and
pheasants
on
a
vast
dish.
]

REGAN:
Well, you children are a fine lot. If I adent woken up from my snooze, there’d ave been no luncheon on the table at all today. Madam comin all the way ere. And Miss Rickard too tho shees used to travel. But no arm done. [
In
a
loud
stage
whisper
to
MRS
MAT
THEWS
senior
.]
Ave the duck, Madam, I should. The pheasant’s a bit on the dry side. [
To
MOUSE
who
has
heard
and
taken
more
offence.
]
Now sit down, Miss Rickard. I shant be a jiffy gettin the etcetterars with Miss Sukey’s elp, and then you can tuck into a nice slice of breast of pheasant. [
Exit.
]