MRS. ROONEY
| [
ruefully
] Maddy Rooney, née Dunne, the big pale blur. [
Pause
.] You have piercing sight, Miss Fitt, if you only knew it, literally piercing. [
Pause
.]
|
MISS FITT
| Well . . . is there anything I can do, now that I am here?
|
MRS. ROONEY
| If you would help me up the face of this cliff, Miss Fitt, I have little doubt your Maker would requite you, if no one else.
|
MISS FITT
| Now, now, Mrs. Rooney, don’t put your teeth in me. Requite! I make these sacrifices for nothing—or not at all. [
Pause. Sound of her descending steps
.] I take it you want to lean on me, Mrs. Rooney.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| I asked Mr. Barrell to give me his arm, just give me his arm. [
Pause
.] He turned on his heel and strode away.
|
MISS FITT
| Is it my arm you want then? [
Pause. Impatiently
.] Is it my arm you want, Mrs. Rooney, or what is it?
|
MRS. ROONEY
| [
exploding
] Your arm! Any arm! A helping hand! For five seconds! Christ what a planet!
|
MISS FITT
| Really. . . . Do you know what it is, Mrs. Rooney, I do not think it is wise of you to be going about at all.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| [
violently
] Come down here, Miss Fitt, and give me your arm, before I scream down the parish! [
Pause. Wind. Sound of Miss Fitt descending last steps
.]
|
MISS FITT
| [
resignedly
] Well, I suppose it is the Protestant thing to do.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Pismires do it for one another. [
Pause
.] I have seen slugs do it. [
Miss Fitt proffers her arm
.] No, the other side, my dear, if it’s all the same to you, I’m left-handed on top of everything else. [
She takes Miss Fitt’s right arm
.] Heavens, child, you’re just a bag of bones, you need building up. [
Sound of her toiling up steps on Miss Fitt’s arm
.] This is worse than the Matterhorn, were you ever up the Matterhorn, Miss Fitt, great honeymoon resort. [
Sound of toiling
.] Why don’t they have a handrail? [
Panting
.] Wait till I get some air. [
Pause
.]
Don’t let me go! [
Miss Fitt hums her hymn. After a moment Mrs. Rooney joins in with the words
.] . . . the encircling gloo-oom . . . [
Miss Fitt stops humming
.] . . . tum tum me on. [
Forte
.] The night is dark and I am far from ho-ome, tum tum—
|
MISS FITT
| [
hysterically
] Stop it, Mrs. Rooney, stop it, or I’ll drop you!
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Wasn’t it that they sung on the
Lusitania
? Or Rock of Ages? Most touching it must have been. Or was it the
Titanic
?
[
Attracted by the noise a group, including Mr. Tyler, Mr. Barrell and Tommy, gathers at top of steps
.]
|
MR. BARRELL
| What the— [
Silence
.]
|
MR. TYLER
| Lovely day for the fixture.
[
Loud titter from Tommy cut short by Mr. Barrell with backhanded blow in the stomach. Appropriate noise from Tommy
.]
|
A FEMALE VOICE
| [
shrill
] Oh look, Dolly, look!
|
DOLLY
| What, Mamma?
|
A FEMALE VOICE
| They are stuck! [
Cackling laugh
.] They are stuck!
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Now we are the laughing-stock of the twenty-six counties. Or is it thirty-six?
|
MR. TYLER
| That is a nice way to treat your defenceless subordinates, Mr. Barrell, hitting them without warning in the pit of the stomach.
|
MISS FITT
| Has anyone seen my mother?
|
MR. BARRELL
| Who is that?
|
TOMMY
| The dark Miss Fitt.
|
MR. BARRELL
| Where is her face?
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Now, deary, I am ready if you are. [
They toil up remaining steps
.] Stand back, you cads! [
Shuffle of feet
.]
|
A FEMALE VOICE
| Mind yourself, Dolly!
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Thank you, Miss Fitt, thank you, that will do, just prop me up against the wall like a roll of tarpaulin and that will be all, for the moment. [
Pause
.] I am sorry for all
this ramdam, Miss Fitt, had I known you were looking for your mother I should not have importuned you, I know what it is.
|
MISS FITT
| [
in marvelling aside
] Ramdam!
|
A FEMALE VOICE
| Come, Dolly darling, let us take up our stand before the first class smokers. Give me your hand and hold me tight, one can be sucked under.
|
MR. TYLER
| You have lost your mother, Miss Fitt?
|
MISS FITT
| Good morning, Mr. Tyler.
|
MR. TYLER
| Good morning, Miss Fitt.
|
MR. BARRELL
| Good morning, Miss Fitt.
|
MISS FITT
| Good morning, Mr. Barrell.
|
MR. TYLER
| You have lost your mother, Miss Fitt?
|
MISS FITT
| She said she would be on the last train.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Do not imagine, because I am silent, that I am not present, and alive, to all that is going on.
|
MR. TYLER
| [
to Miss Fitt
] When you say the last train—
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Do not flatter yourselves for one moment, because I hold aloof, that my sufferings have ceased. No. The entire scene, the hills, the plain, the racecourse with its miles and miles of white rails and three red stands, the pretty little wayside station, even you yourselves, yes, I mean it, and over all the clouding blue, I see it all, I stand here and see it all with eyes . . . [
the voice breaks
] . . . through eyes . . . oh if you had my eyes . . . you would understand . . . the things they have seen . . . and not looked away . . . this is nothing . . . nothing . . . what did I do with that handkerchief? [
Pause
.]
|
MR. TYLER
| [
to Miss Fitt
] When you say the last train— [
Mrs. Rooney blows her nose violently and long
.] —when you say the last train, Miss Fitt, I take it you mean the twelve thirty.
|
MISS FITT
| What else could I mean, Mr. Tyler, what else could I
conceivably
mean?
|
MR. TYLER
| Then you have no cause for anxiety, Miss Fitt, for the twelve thirty has not yet arrived. Look. [
Miss Fitt looks
.] No, up the line. [
Miss Fitt looks. Patiently
.] No, Miss Fitt, follow the direction of my index. [
Miss Fitt looks
.] There. You see now. The signal. At the bawdy hour of nine. [
In rueful afterthought
.] Or three alas! [
Mr. Barrell stifles a guffaw
.] Thank you, Mr. Barrell.
|
MISS FITT
| But the time is now getting on for—
|
MR. TYLER
| [
patiently
] We all know, Miss Fitt, we all know only too well what the time is now getting on for, and yet the cruel fact remains that the twelve thirty has not yet arrived.
|
MISS FITT
| Not an accident, I trust! [
Pause
.] Do not tell me she has left the track! [
Pause
.] Oh darling mother! With the fresh sole for lunch!
[
Loud titter from Tommy, checked as before by Mr. Barrell
.]
|
MR. BARRELL
| That’s enough old guff out of you. Nip up to the box now and see has Mr. Case anything for me.
[
Tommy goes
.]
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Poor Dan!
|
MISS FITT
| [
in anguish
] What terrible thing has happened?
|
MR. TYLER
| Now now, Miss Fitt, do not—
|
MRS. ROONEY
| [
with vehement sadness
] Poor Dan!
|
MR. TYLER
| Now now, Miss Fitt, do not give way . . . to despair, all will come right . . . in the end. [
Aside to Mr. Barrell
.] What
is
the situation, Mr. Barrell? Not a collision surely?
|
MRS. ROONEY
| [
enthusiastically
] A collision! Oh that would be wonderful!
|
MISS FITT
| [
horrified
] A collision! I knew it!
|
MR. TYLER
| Come, Miss Fitt, let us move a little up the platform.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Yes, let us all do that. [
Pause
.] No? [
Pause
.] You have changed your mind? [
Pause
.] I quite agree, we are better here, in the shadow of the waiting-room.
|
MR. BARRELL
| Excuse me a moment.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Before you slink away, Mr. Barrell, please, a statement of some kind, I insist. Even the slowest train on this brief line is not ten minutes and more behind its scheduled time without good cause, one imagines. [
Pause
.] We all know your station is the best kept of the entire network, but there are times when that is not enough, just not enough. [
Pause
.] Now, Mr. Barrell, leave off chewing your whiskers, we are waiting to hear from you—we the unfortunate ticket-holders’ nearest if not dearest. [
Pause
.]
|
MR. TYLER
| [
reasonably
] I do think we are owed some kind of explanation, Mr. Barrell, if only to set our minds at rest.
|
MR. BARRELL
| I know nothing. All I know is there has been a hitch. All traffic is retarded.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| [
derisively
] Retarded! A hitch! Ah these celibates! Here we are eating our hearts out with anxiety for our loved ones and he calls that a hitch! Those of us like myself with heart and kidney trouble may collapse at any moment and he calls that a hitch! In our ovens the Saturday roast is burning to a shrivel and he calls that—
|
MR. TYLER
| Here comes Tommy, running! I am glad I have been spared to see this.
|
TOMMY
| [
excitedly, in the distance
] She’s coming. [
Pause. Nearer
.] She’s at the level-crossing!
[
Immediately exaggerated station sounds. Falling signals. Bells. Whistles. Crescendo of train whistle approaching. Sound of train rushing through station
.]
|
MRS. ROONEY
| [
above rush of train
] The up mail! The up mail! [
The up mail recedes, the down train approaches, enters the station, pulls up with great hissing of steam and clashing of couplings. Noise of passengers descending, doors banging, Mr. Barrell shouting “Boghill! Boghill!
,”
etc. Piercingly
.]
Dan! . . . Are you all right? . . . Where is he? . . . Dan! Did you see my husband? . . . Dan! . . . [
Noise of station emptying. Guard’s whistle. Train departing, receding. Silence
.] He isn’t on it! The misery I have endured to get here, and he isn’t on it! . . . Mr. Barrell! . . . Was he not on it? [
Pause
.] Is anything the matter, you look as if you had seen a ghost. [
Pause
.] Tommy! . . . Did you see the master?
|
TOMMY
| He’ll be along, Ma’am, Jerry is minding him.
[
Mr. Rooney suddenly appears on platform, advancing on small boy Jerry’s arm. He is blind, thumps the ground with his stick and pants incessantly
.]
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Oh, Dan! There you are! [
Her dragging feet as she hastens towards him. She reaches him. They halt
.] Where in the world were you?
|
MR. ROONEY
| [
coolly
] Maddy.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Where were you all this time?
|
MR. ROONEY
| In the men’s.
|
MRS. ROONEY
| Kiss me!
|
