MR. SLOCUM
| [
coolly
] May I then offer you a seat, Madam?
|
MRS. ROONEY
| [
with exaggerated enthusiasm
] Oh that would be heavenly, Mr. Slocum, just simply heavenly. [
Dubiously
.] But would I ever get in, you look very high off the ground today, these new balloon tyres I presume. [
Sound of door opening and Mrs. Rooney trying to get in
.] Does this roof never come off? No? [
Efforts
of
Mrs. Rooney
.] No. . . . I’ll never do it . . . you’ll have to get down, Mr. Slocum, and help me from the rear. [
Pause
.] What was that? [
Pause. Aggrieved
.] This is all your
suggestion, Mr. Slocum, not mine. Drive on, Sir, drive on.
|
MR. SLOCUM
| [
switching off engine
] I’m coming, Mrs. Rooney, I’m coming, give me time, I’m as stiff as yourself. [
Sound of Mr. Slocum extracting himself from driver’s seat
.]
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Stiff! Well I like that! And me heaving all over back and front. [
To herself
.] The dry old reprobate!
|
MR. SLOCUM
| [
in position behind her
] Now, Mrs. Rooney, how shall we do this?
|
MRS. ROONEY
| As if I were a bale, Mr. Slocum, don’t be afraid. [
Pause. Sounds of effort
.] That’s the way! [
Effort
.] Lower! [
Effort
.] Wait! [
Pause
.] No, don’t let go! [
Pause
.] Suppose I do get up, will I ever get down?
|
MR. SLOCUM
| [
breathing hard
] You’ll get down, Mrs. Rooney, you’ll get down. We may not get you up, but I warrant you we’ll get you down.
[
He resumes his efforts. Sound of these
.]
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Oh! . . . Lower! . . . Don’t be afraid! . . . We’re past the age when . . . There! . . . Now! . . . Get your shoulder under it. . . . Oh! . . . [
Giggles
.] Oh glory! . . . Up! Up! . . . Ah! . . . I’m in! [
Panting
of
Mr. Slocum. He slams the door. In a scream
.] My frock! You’ve nipped my frock! [
Mr. Slocum opens the door. Mrs. Rooney frees her frock. Mr. Slocum slams the door. His violent unintelligible muttering as he walks round to the other door. Tearfully
.] My nice frock! Look what you’ve done to my nice frock! [
Mr. Slocum gets into his seat, slams driver’s door, presses starter. The engine does not start. He releases starter
.] What will Dan say when he sees me?
|
MR. SLOCUM
| Has he then recovered his sight?
|
MRS. ROONEY
| No, I mean when he knows, what will he say when he feels the hole? [
Mr. Slocum presses starter. As before. Silence
.] What are you doing, Mr. Slocum?
|
MR. SLOCUM
| Gazing straight before me, Mrs. Rooney, through the windscreen, into the void.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Start her up, I beseech you, and let us be off. This is awful!
|
MR. SLOCUM
| [
dreamily
] All morning she went like a dream and now she is dead. That is what you get for a good deed. [
Pause. Hopefully
.] Perhaps if I were to choke her. [
He does so, presses the starter. The engine roars. Roaring to make himself heard
.] She was getting too much air! [
He throttles down, grinds in his first gear, moves off, changes up in a grinding of gears
.]
|
MRS. ROONEY
| [
in anguish
] Mind the hen! [
Scream of brakes. Squawk of hen
.] Oh, mother, you have squashed her, drive on, drive on! [
The car accelerates. Pause
.] What a death! One minute picking happy at the dung, on the road, in the sun, with now and then a dust bath, and then—bang!—all her troubles over. [
Pause
.] All the laying and the hatching. [
Pause
.] Just one great squawk and then . . . peace. [
Pause
.] They would have slit her weasand in any case. [
Pause
.] Here we are, let me down. [
The car slows down, stops, engine running. Mr. Slocum blows his horn. Pause. Louder. Pause
.] What are you up to now, Mr. Slocum? We are at a standstill, all danger is past and you blow your horn. Now if instead of blowing it now you had blown it at that unfortunate—
[
Horn violently. Tommy the porter appears at top of station steps
.]
|
MR. SLOCUM
| [
calling
] Will you come down, Tommy, and help this lady out, she’s stuck.
[
Tommy descends the steps
.] Open the door, Tommy, and ease her out. [
Tommy opens the door
.]
|
TOMMY
| Certainly, Sir. Nice day for the races, sir. What would you fancy for—
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Don’t mind me. Don’t take any notice of me. I do not exist. The fact is well known.
|
MR. SLOCUM
| Do as you’re asked, Tommy, for the love of God.
|
TOMMY
| Yessir. Now, Mrs. Rooney.
[
He starts pulling her out
.]
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Wait, Tommy, wait now, don’t bustle me, just let me wheel round and get my feet to the ground. [
Her efforts to achieve this
.] Now.
|
TOMMY
| [
pulling her out
] Mind your feather, Ma’am. [
Sounds of effort
.] Easy now, easy.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Wait, for God’s sake, you’ll have me beheaded.
|
TOMMY
| Crouch down, Mrs. Rooney, crouch down, and get your head in the open.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Crouch down! At my time of life! This is lunacy!
|
TOMMY
| Press her down, sir. [
Sounds of combined efforts
.]
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Pity!
|
TOMMY
| Now! She’s coming! Straighten up, Ma’am! There!
[
Mr. Slocum slams the door
.]
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Am I out?
[
The voice of Mr. Barrell, the station-master, raised in anger
.]
|
MR. BARRELL
| Tommy! Tommy! Where the hell is he? [
Mr. Slocum grinds in his gear
.]
|
TOMMY
| [
hurriedly
] You wouldn’t have something for the Ladies Plate, sir? I was given Flash Harry.
|
MR. SLOCUM
| [
scornfully
] Flash Harry! That carthorse!
|
MR. BARRELL
| [
at top of steps, roaring
] Tommy! Blast your bleeding bloody— [
He sees Mrs. Rooney
.] Oh, Mrs. Rooney. . . .
[
Mr. Slocum drives away in a grinding of gears
.] Who’s that crucifying his gearbox, Tommy?
|
TOMMY
| Old Cissy Slocum.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Cissy Slocum! That’s a nice way to refer to your betters.
Cissy Slocum! And you an orphan!
|
MR. BARRELL
| [
angrily to Tommy
] What are you doing stravaging down here on the public road? This is no place for you at
all! Nip up there on the platform now and whip out the truck! Won’t the twelve thirty be on top of us before we can turn round?
|
TOMMY
| [
bitterly
] And that’s the thanks you get for a Christian act.
|
MR. BARRELL
| [
violently
] Get on with you now before I report you! [
Slow feet of Tommy climbing steps
.] Do you want me to come down to you with the shovel? [
The feet quicken, recede, cease
.] Ah God forgive me, it’s a hard life. [
Pause
.] Well, Mrs. Rooney, it’s nice to see you up and about again. You were laid up there a long time.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Not long enough, Mr. Barrell. [
Pause
.] Would I were still in bed, Mr. Barrell. [
Pause
.] Would I were lying stretched out in my comfortable bed, Mr. Barrell, just wasting slowly, painlessly away, keeping up my strength with arrowroot and calves-foot jelly, till in the end you wouldn’t see me under the blankets any more than a board. [
Pause
.] Oh no coughing or spitting or bleeding or vomiting, just drifting gently down into the higher life, and remembering, remembering . . . [
the voice breaks
]. . . all the silly unhappiness . . . as though . . . it had never happened. . . . What did I do with that handkerchief? [
Sound of handkerchief loudly applied
.] How long have you been master of this station now, Mr. Barrell?
|
MR. BARRELL
| Don’t ask me, Mrs. Rooney, don’t ask me.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| You stepped into your father’s shoes, I believe, when he took them off.
|
MR. BARRELL
| Poor Pappy! [
Reverent pause
.] He didn’t live long to enjoy his ease.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| I remember him clearly. A small ferrety purple-faced widower, deaf as a doornail, very testy and snappy. [
Pause
.] I suppose you’ll be retiring soon yourself, Mr. Barrell, and growing your roses. [
Pause
.] Did I understand you to say the twelve thirty would soon be upon us?
|
MR. BARRELL
| Those were my words.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| But according to my watch which is more or less right—or was—by the eight o’clock news the time is now coming up to twelve . . . [
pause as she consults her watch
] . . . thirty-six. [
Pause
.] And yet upon the other hand the up mail has not yet gone through. [
Pause
.] Or has it sped by unbeknown to me? [
Pause
.] For there was a moment there, I remember now, I was so plunged in sorrow I wouldn’t have heard a steam roller go over me. [
Pause. Mr. Barrell turns to go
.] Don’t go, Mr. Barrell! [
Mr. Barrell goes. Loud
.] Mr. Barrell! [
Pause. Louder
.] Mr. Barrell! [
Mr. Barrell comes back
.]
|
MR. BARRELL
| [
testily
] What is it, Mrs. Rooney, I have my work to do.
[
Silence. Sound of wind
.]
|
MRS. ROONEY
| The wind is getting up. [
Pause. Wind
.] The best of the day is over. [
Pause. Wind. Dreamily
.] Soon the rain will begin to fall and go on falling, all afternoon. [
Mr. Barrell goes
.] Then at evening the clouds will part, the setting sun will shine an instant, then sink, behind the hills. [
She realizes Mr. Barrell has gone
.] Mr. Barrell! Mr. Barrell! [
Silence
.] I estrange them all. They come towards me, uninvited, bygones bygones, full of kindness, anxious to help . . . [
the voice breaks
] . . . genuinely pleased . . . to see me again . . . looking so well. . . . [
Handkerchief
.] A few simple words . . . from my heart . . . and I am all alone . . . once more. . . . [
Handkerchief. Vehemently
.] I should not be out at all! I should never leave the grounds! [
Pause
.] Oh there is that Fitt woman, I wonder will she bow to me. [
Sound
of
Miss Fitt approaching, humming a hymn. She starts climbing the steps
.] Miss Fitt! [
Miss Fitt halts, stops humming
.] Am I then invisible, Miss Fitt? Is this cretonne so becoming to me that I merge into the masonry? [
Miss Fitt descends a step
.] That is right,
Miss Fitt, look closely and you will finally distinguish a once female shape.
|
MISS FITT
| Mrs. Rooney! I saw you, but I did not know you.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Last Sunday we worshipped together. We knelt side by side at the same altar. We drank from the same chalice. Have I so changed since then?
|
MISS FITT
| [
shocked
] Oh but in church, Mrs. Rooney, in church I am alone with my Maker. Are not you? [
Pause
.] Why even the sexton himself, you know, when he takes up the collection, knows it is useless to pause before me. I simply do not see the plate, or bag, whatever it is they use, how could I? [
Pause
.] Why even when all is over and I go out into the sweet fresh air, why even then for the first furlong or so I stumble in a kind of daze as you might say, oblivious to my co-religionists. And they are very kind I must admit—the vast majority—very kind and understanding. They know me now and take no umbrage. There she goes, they say, there goes the dark Miss Fitt, alone with her Maker, take no notice of her. And they step down off the path to avoid my running into them. [
Pause
.] Ah yes, I am distray, very distray, even on week-days. Ask Mother, if you do not believe me. Hetty, she says, when I start eating my doily instead of the thin bread and butter, Hetty, how can you be so distray? [
Sighs
.] I suppose the truth is I am not there, Mrs. Rooney, just not really there at all. I see, hear, smell, and so on, I go through the usual motions, but my heart is not in it, Mrs. Rooney, my heart is in none of it. Left to myself, with no one to check me, I would soon be flown . . . home. [
Pause
.] So if you think I cut you just now, Mrs. Rooney, you do me an injustice. All I saw was a big pale blur, just another big pale blur. [
Pause
.] Is anything amiss, Mrs. Rooney, you do not look normal somehow. So bowed and bent.
|
