The Complete Dramatic Works (33 page)

[
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.

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? [
Pant
ing
.
]
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.