Scene: The living-room of a London West End flat. A Tuesday afternoon in late September.
Down R is a wide arch showing part of a small entrance hall which leads to the front door of the flat. The fireplace is R, above the arch, and is fitted with an electric fire. Up RC, facing the audience, under a sloping ceiling, is a window with a narrow window-seat, overlooking roofs. Up L is a low, wide rostrum, reached by two long steps, which forms a wide corridor leading off up L to the bathroom. In the back wall of the corridor, facing the audience, is the bedroom door, There is a banister rail along the right side of the rostrum. In the wall L is a serving hatch, which when open shows a glimpse of kitchen shelves. the door to the kitchen is down L, below the hatch, The furniture, an incongruous mixture of antique, nineteen-thirtyish and modern, looks expensive but ill-assorted. Down R is a small table with a single chair in front of it. On the wall over the table is a two-way speaker on an extending arm. Above the arch R there is a whatnot with Victorian china ornaments on its shelves. In front of the whatnot, facing L, is a small tub armchair. Above the fireplace is a long bookcase and there is a canterbury against the wall R of the window. A bureau-type radiogram is L of the window. A low coffee-table stands L of the bedroom door, on the rostrum. A long sideboard is underneath the serving hatch L and a small occasional table and an upright chair are down L, below the kitchen door. A sofa with a table behind it is RC. There is a telephone on the table. A circular, pedestal table is LC with chairs Rand L of it. A pouffe is down RC. The hall is furnished with a small table and an umbrella vase. At night the room is lit by a standard lamp up R and table-lamps down R and L. There is a light switch below the fireplace.
Before the CURTAIN rises, as the house-lights fade, the ‘Applehurst Theme’, a cheerful folk-dance tune, is heard.
When the CURTAIN rises, the music fades. The room is empty. The front door is heard to slam off R. JUNE BUCKRIDGE enters from the hall. She is a rotund, middle-aged woman, wearing a belted white mackintosh. She carries a leather brief-case and string gloves. She is very agitated.
ALICE: [off in the kitchen; calling] George? George, is that you? [JUNE shows exasperation at the sound of ALICE’S voice, throws her gloves and brief-case on to the sofa and goes to the table behind it. She opens a cigar box on the table, finds it empty and throws it violently on to the floor up C, then moves to the fireplace. ALICE ‘CHILDIE’ McNAUGHT, in the kitchen, opens the hatch and looks into the room. She is a girl-woman in her thirties, looking deceptively young. She conveys an impression of pallor: her hair, eyes and complexion are all very light. She is wearing a sweater and jeans, with a plastic apron and orange rubber gloves]
[Surprised] George, what on earth...? [JUNE takes a cheroot from a box on the mantelpiece, reaches for the lighter, finds a doll in long clothes in the way and throws it into the fender]
George! What are you doing at home at this time of the afternoon? [JUNE lights her cheroot and moves down R of the sofa]
JUNE: [after a pause] They are going to murder me.
ALICE: What...?
JUNE: [moving LC] I’ve suspected it for some time.
ALICE: What...?
JUNE: Kindly close that hatch. [She moves to R of the table LC and removes her coat]
[ALICE quickly closes the hatch and comes into the room by the kitchen door L. She carries a tea cloth]
ALICE: George, I don’t understand what you’re saying—what are you talking about? [JUNE puts her cheroot on the rim or the ashtray on the table LC]
JUNE: [brutally] Shut up! You know nothing, [She moves RC, below the sofa]
[ALICE, silenced, watches JUNE’S nervous pacing]
That Australian bitch, that Sheila, let it out.
ALICE: [sitting R of the table LC] The one who used to be a lady cricketer?
JUNE: [with disgust] Yes, that’s her—the lolloping great trollop! [She removes her coat]
ALICE: So, what did she say?
JUNE: [very excited] It was during the tea-break; she handed me my cup of tea and said, ‘I trust you’re in good health’, she said with a sly wink.
ALICE: There’s nothing wrong with that.
JUNE: [tossing her coat into the armchair R] I knew what she meant. I got the message all right. [She moves up RC]
ALICE: [rising, crossing and picking up JUNE’s coat] It might have been quite innocuous. [She follows to R of JUNE]
JUNE: Innocuous! [She raps the table behind the sofa] They are trying to kill me and you call that innocuous. Somebody’s leaked it to her—another Australian probably. The place is rampant with them: they’re multiplying like rabbits. [She goes to the table LC and picks up her cheroot]
ALICE: You’re imagining things.
JUNE: No, no, not rabbits—opossums. Those dreary little pests.
ALICE: [moving above the sofa] Well, anyway, what did you do?
JUNE: [moving to the sideboard] I left.
ALICE: (moving to L of the sofa; alarmed] You walked out of the rehearsal? [She removes her rubber gloves]
JUNE: [subdued] I wasn’t going to let some illiterate bitch wink at me. [She picks up a bottle of gin and a glass and takes them to the table LC]
ALICE: [biting her lip] They won’t like it. [She crosses to the arch R]
JUNE: I’ve given six years devoted service to this programme.
ALICE: You said yourself: they don’t like contract artists to have tantrums. [ALICE exits to the hall and deposits the coat, the tea-cloth and her rubber gloves]
JUNE: [excitedly] They have no right to do this to me. I’m a senior member of the cast. [ALICE re-enters from the hall]
If they wanted to—[she swallows] write me out—[she pours a drink] they should have asked me to come to the office in a proper manner. [She returns the bottle of gin to the sideboard, replacing it with a bang]
[ALICE picks up a doll from the pouffe then sits on the pouffe and hugs the doll]
ALICE: Nobody wants to write you out. It’s unthinkable. Applehurst couldn’t survive without you.
JUNE: [sitting R of the table LC] Don’t you be too sure. Applehurst is more than a village, you know—it’s a community, it’s a way of life. It doesn’t depend on individuals. [In a country accent] There’s many a stone in that churchyard ...
ALICE: You talk as if it was real. [JUNE leans forward and raises her voice]
JUNE: [in her own voice] It is real to millions. It stands for the traditional values to English life—common sense—tenacity—our rural heritage...
ALICE: Oh, belt up!
JUNE: You’re getting above yourself, missy.
ALICE: You are the serial. It would be nothing without you.
JUNE: Stranger things have happened. Only the other day Ronnie said to me: ‘There’ll have to be some changes, you know.’
ALICE: He probably meant the story line.
JUNE: No—no—it’s the axe again. We’re losing listeners, and they’re looking for a scapegoat. It’s over a year since old Mrs. Prescott was kicked by a horse. [She drinks]
ALICE: Yes, and look at the rumpus there was over that. And she was only a minor character.
JUNE: She had her following.
ALICE: She hardly had a line to say from one week to the next.
JUNE: What about the time I nursed her back to health, when she had concussion?
ALICE: That was exceptional.
JUNE: No, no, no. She had nice little bits and pieces here and there. When she found that stray dog, and the village adopted it... [A dark thought occurs to her] Until it was run over by a tractor. [She shudders]
ALICE: There’s no comparison. Mrs. Prescott...
JUNE: [rising and shouting] Mrs. Prescott had a following. [She leaves her drink on the table]
ALICE: [shrugging] All right—Mrs. Prescott had a following.
JUNE: [moving drown L] The subject is now closed.
ALICE: [after a pause] But she was expendable.
JUNE: [crossing to ALICE; angrily] Are you trying to aggravate me? Are you deliberately trying to annoy me?
ALICE: [loudly] You’re the most popular character in it. [She rises]
JUNE: Don’t screech at me. It’s an ugly, grating sound.
ALICE: Well, look at your ratings.
JUNE: They are down. Four percent last week—I’m slipping. Now do you understand? [She moves C]
ALICE: [after a pause] You still get the most fan mail, don’t you? [Still holding the doll, she goes to the small table down R and takes a threaded needle from the work-basket]
JUNE: [sitting R of the table LC] Only just. Ginger, the publican, is close on my heels. Ever since he had that win on the Premium Bonds, and gave the money to Farmer Bromley, so that they wouldn’t turn his place into a broiler house...
ALICE: [moving RC] What about young Rosie?
JUNE: [conspiratorially] Aha! [ALICE looks puzzled]
She’s preggers.
ALICE: No! [She sits on the pouffe] You mean the actress...?
JUNE: No, the character, blockhead! We reckon that’ll bring back some listeners.
ALICE: [intrigued] Who was responsible? [She sews the skirt of Emmeline, the doll]
JUNE: We haven’t been told yet. I think it was Lennie, her steady. If so it’ll be absolutely splendid. They can get married—everybody loves a wedding. But Arthur thinks it was Roy.
ALICE: Who’s Roy?
JUNE: That soldier—stationed at the army camp at Oakmead. He took her to that dance, remember?
ALICE: [concerned] What’s she going to do—about the baby?
JUNE: Well, she confides in me—in the next installment. Comes to me in tears; wants to get rid of it. [She sighs] Don’t know what the younger generation’s coming to.
ALICE: What do you tell her?
JUNE: What don’t I tell her? [She puts out her cheroot in the ashtray on the table LC] I give her a dressing-down she won’t forget in a hurry. [She rises, moves to L of ALICE and speaks in her country accent] Where is he? Mr. Clever Lad? Show me where he is so’s I can tear some strips off him, the fine young fellow. Just don’t you aggravate yourself, my dear—leave it to me. Just you tell me who it was, my dear. Just you tell me who it was.
ALICE: And does she tell you?
JUNE: No. [She pauses, crosses to R of the table LC and sits] But I’ll wheedle it out of her, never fear. Just give me three installments, that’s all. [She picks up her drink]
ALICE: [tensely] They shouldn’t talk about—things like that.
JUNE: [happier now] It’s nice, though, the way they come to me with their troubles. Oh, they know they’ll get straight talking from me. [In her country accent] No lard ever passed my lips. No, sir, fine words butter no parsnips.
ALICE: What are you talking about?
JUNE: [putting down her glass and leaning forward] They need me. Get that into your thick head. Applehurst needs a District Nurse. Who’d deliver the babies, who’d look after the old folk, I’d like to know.
ALICE: Exactly. [She finishes her sewing, rises, leaves the doll on the pouffe and crosses to JUNE] Nobody’s suggesting...
JUNE: What do you mean—nobody’s suggesting? Why did that woman enquire after my health? Why did she wink at me, eh?
ALICE: Perhaps she fancies you. [She gives a slight snigger and crosses to R]
JUNE: This is no time for jesting.
ALICE: [replaying the needle in the work-basket] How do I know why she winked at you? Perhaps she’s got a nervous twitch. [she tidies the things in the work-basket]
JUNE: [picking up her glass, rising and moving down C] She’s Australian, dunce! They’re extroverts, not neurotic townsfolk, like us. They come from the bloody bush.
ALICE: [becoming exasporated ] Well, I don’t know why she winked at you.
JUNE: Oh, shut up! Silly bitch! [She moves to L of the table behind the sofa, puts down her glass, picks up a framed certificate and reads] ‘And in recognition of your devoted work and care for the old and sick, we name the Geriatric Ward the Sister George Ward.’ [She replaces the certificate]
[ALICE applauds slowly and ironically]
Take care, Childie, you’re trailing your coat...
ALICE: [giggling] You’re the bull. [She moves to the pouffe, kneels on it with one knee and puts the doll’s clothes straight]
JUNE: [dangerously] We’re very cocky all of a sudden.
ALICE: [mock innocently] Who—me?
JUNE: Yes, you. [She moves C] And what the hell are you doing at home on a Tuesday afternoon? Why aren’t you at work?
ALICE: Mr. Katz gave us the day off. It’s a Jewish holiday.
JUNE: [suspiciously] Oh, really! What holiday?
ALICE: I don’t know. The Feast of the Contamination, or something.
JUNE: You seem to have more holidays than work days lately.
ALICE: [picking up the doll and moving to the fireplace] Not my fault.
JUNE: [still suspicious] He hasn’t been having another ‘go’ at you, your Mr. Katz, has he?
ALICE: [moving to the table behind the sofa and putting the doll on it; primly] Certainly not.
JUNE: I bet he has.
ALICE: He hasn’t. I’d tell you.
JUNE: I wonder. [Self-pityingly] Nobody tells me anything.
ALICE: That’s because you always make such a stupid fuss about things. [She sits on the right arm of the sofa and puts her feet on the fender]
JUNE: All right, then, I won’t make a fuss. [She moves to L of the sofa] Come on, tell me.
ALICE: There’s nothing to tell.
JUNE: [venomously] You expect me to believe that after what happened last time?
ALICE: Nothing happened.
JUNE: A four-inch tear and three buttons off your blouse and you call that nothing.
ALICE: [angrily] I told you. I got it caught in the Gestetner.
JUNE: Don’t lie to me, Childie.
ALICE: [rising and moving above the sofa] I’m not lying. [She crosses towards the kitchen door]
[JUNE intercepts ALICE, grasps her arm and turns her to face her]
JUNE: Then why are you avoiding my eyes?
ALICE: Because—because... Oh! [She throws off JUNE’s hand] You’re impossible, George. [ALICE runs up the two steps and exits up L to the bathroom]
JUNE: [calling] Don’t throw tantrums with me, young lady. [She leans over the banister and roars] Come out! Come out this instant.
ALICE: [off L calling] I shan’t. [JUNE turns, picks up Emmeline the doll from the table behind the sofa, moves up LC and calls towards the bathroom]
JUNE: Can you hear me, Childie? I’ve got Emmeline here, your favorite doll. [Softly but clearly] And if you don’t come out of the bathroom at once—I’m going to pull Emmeline’s head off. [ALICE, tear-stained, rushes in up L, tears the doll out of JUNE’s hand and hugs it]
ALICE: Monster! [She moves down C]
JUNE: [moving to L of ALICE] There, that’s better. [She pauses] And now: apologize.
ALICE: What for?
JUNE: For causing me unnecessary aggravation.
ALICE: I’m sorry.
JUNE: [crossing to R of ALICE] You don’t sound it.
ALICE: Look, George, I know that you’re worried and everything, but that’s no reason ...
JUNE: Don’t answer back. Don’t be cheeky.
ALICE: Look, George...
JUNE: Has Mr. Katz ‘had a go’ at you?
ALICE: [screaming] No!
JUNE: Don’t screech at me. Apologize this instant, or there’ll be severe chastisement.
ALICE: I’m sorry.
JUNE: That’s better. Now, down on your knees.
ALICE: Must I?
JUNE: Yes. Come on. [ALICE, still hugging the doll, goes on her knees]
Show your contrition.
ALICE: How?
JUNE: You must eat the butt of my cigar.
ALICE: I couldn’t; it would make me sick.
JUNE: [standing over ALICE] Are you arguing with me?
ALICE: O.K. Hand it over. [JUNE crosses to the table LC, picks up the ashtray and holds it out to ALICE, who takes the cigar butt. This is actually a piece of chocolate previously concealed in the ashtray]
JUNE: Good girl. Now eat it.
ALICE: Can I take the ash off?
JUNE: You may take the ash off, but you must eat the paper. [ALICE, with an expression of extreme distaste, eats the butt]
ALICE: Ooh, it tastes vile.
JUNE: Good. [The telephone rings]
That’ll teach you to be rude. [ALICE jumps to her feet, rushes to the telephone, lifts the receiver, sits on the sofa at the right end of it, with her feet up and speaks with her mouth full]
ALICE: [into the telephone] Hello ... Miss June Buckridge? ... One moment, please.
JUNE: [moving above the sofa; apprehensively] Who is it?
ALICE: Don’t know.
JUNE: [moving to R of the sofa] Why didn’t you ask, fathead? [She takes the receiver from ALICE. Into the telephone] Hello, this is June Buckridge. Who wants her? ... Yes, of course ... Yes, I’ll hold on ... [She puts her hand over the mouthpiece. To ALICE] God Almighty, Childie, it’s the B.B.C.
ALICE: [trembling] Oh, Lord, I hope it’s nothing serious.
JUNE: [into the telephone] Hello? ... Hello, Mrs. Mercy, dear... No, of course not... Quite ... Quite... Yes, I—there was something I wanted to talk to you about ... Perhaps we’d better have a man-to-man ... You have something to say to me? ... No, I’m not doing anything at the moment ... Well, I’d rather not come back to Broadcasting House today ... Yes, yes, that’s a splendid idea ... Love to see you... That’s right: Devonshire Street—top floor. You press the bell, and one of those ‘I speak your weight’ machines answers ... [With a rather forced laugh] Yes, you know the kind of thing. [She intones in a deep voice] ‘You are thirteen stone two.’... No, no, of course not—I wasn’t implying that you were ... Yes, that’ll be absolutely lovely ... Any time... ’Bye. [She replaces the receiver and wipes her brow] She’s coming round. She’ll be here in a minute. Oh, God, I’m for it. [She crosses to L of the sofa]
ALICE: [putting the doll on the table behind the sofa] Who was it? [JUNE goes to the table LC, takes a cigar from the box and lights it with the lighter]
JUNE: The Assistant Head—Mrs. Mercy Croft.
ALICE: The one who has that weekly spot on Woman’s Hour?
JUNE: ‘Ask Mrs. Mercy.’ Yes, that’s her.
ALICE: [rising] But she sounds awfully nice on the radio—at least her advice is sort of—sensible.
JUNE: [pacing nervously down L] She is nice. [She tries to convince herself] Mrs. Mercy is a nice woman.
ALICE: [crossing to LC] Well, then.
JUNE: [crossing below ALICE to the fireplace] She’s coming to see me, you understand? First she asked to see me in her office, now she’s asking to see me.
ALICE: [after a pause] Did she seem friendly?
JUNE: [tensely] Yep.
ALICE: It’ll be a good thing to clear the air.
JUNE: [moving to R of ALICE] You don’t know what you’re talking about. She wants to see me on an urgent matter. We must brace ourselves for the worst.
ALICE: Will she expect some tea?
JUNE: Tea, oh, God, yes! [She turns ALICE round and gives her a push towards the sideboard] You must make her something special—at the double. [ALICE dears everything from the table LC on to the sideboard]
ALICE: There’s that piece of Dundee cake that mother sent. [She takes a lace tablecloth from the sideboard cupboard and spreads it on the table LC]
JUNE: [pacing R] That’ll be absolutely first class. [She paces to LC] And make her some of those Scotch scones of yours. And when you’re serving the stuff, try to make a good impression, look cheerful, keep your shoulders back. And if she speaks to you don’t open your mouth about things you don’t understand.
ALICE: I can quite easily go out. [She gets three teaspoons and three knives from the sideboard drawer and puts them on the table, then takes three cups, saucers and small plates from the sideboard cupboard and puts them on the table]
JUNE: What, and leave me to pour out and all that pansy stuff. Not likely. [She crosses to the fireplace] You’ll stay here and do some work.
ALICE: [setting out the china, etc.] Look, George, try not to show her how worried you are. You always get sort of—aggressive when you’re nervous.
JUNE: [moving C] Go on. Back to the kitchen where you belong. [She roughly tidies the cushions on the sofa]
ALICE: I wish you’d do relaxing exercises or something. [ALICE exits to the kitchen]
JUNE: [shouting after ALICE] I’ll do relaxing exercises on your behind in a minute. [She collects her brief-case and puts it on the floor R of the radiogram] Now then. [She picks up two framed certificates from the top of the radiogram and reads] ‘Personality of the Year.’ I’ll put that in a prominent position. [She puts the certificate on the mantelpiece and reads the second certificate] ‘The English Village Preservation Society.’ [She puts the certificate on the right end of the table behind the sofa, then goes to the radiogram and moves a third framed certificate into a better position] ‘The Variety Club of Great Britain.’ [She moves a silver cup along the top of the radiogram] ‘The Association of British Nursing Sisters.’ [She moves another cup along and then picks up a silver statuette, faces front, holds out the statuette and reads its inscription] ‘Miss Humanity’—[she pauses] ‘nominated by the Daily Mirror.’ [She places the statuette on the left end of the table behind the sofa and turns to the radiogram] There’s something missing. [She calls] Alice.
ALICE: [off; calling] I’m busy.
JUNE: [moving down C; imperiously] Come here. I want you. [ALICE enters from the kitchen, carrying a washing-up mop]
ALICE: What is it now? You’re always interrupting.
JUNE: [pointing to the trophics] There’s one missing.
ALICE: I haven’t touched anything.
JUNE: [moving to R of the table LC] There’s one missing, isn’t there? Go on—have a look. I want to hear you tell me, in your own words, which one is missing.
ALICE: [without looking] I don’t know.
JUNE: [softly, but with deadly emphasis] Where is the Honorary ‘Stag’?
ALICE: [uncertainly] What... ?
JUNE: [in the same tone] What have you done with it? [ALICE is silent] I’ll give you ten seconds to confess. [She waits, breathing heavily]
ALICE: Let me get on with the tea. She’ll be here in a minute.
JUNE: You’ve destroyed it, haven’t you? [She pauses] Where is the Honorary ‘Stag’?
ALICE: [after a pause] I threw it away.
JUNE: [moving to ALICE] You—what?
ALICE: [slightly hysterically] I hated it. A cut-off stag’s head, impaled on a pike. You had no right to keep such abominations in the house—you know I like animals.
JUNE: When did you—throw it away?
ALICE: [looking at JUNE] Last night. [There is a pause. JUNE sits R of the table LC, ALICE sits L of it]
JUNE: You know it meant a lot to me—to be nominated Honorary ‘Stag’.
ALICE: [very contrite] I’ll get it back; I’ll get another.
JUNE: [tragically] Too late.
ALICE: I’ll phone up the Town Hall—the Borough Litter Disposal Unit...
JUNE: [tragically] You mean the dustman, don’t you? Why can’t you bloody well say so? [There is a long ring from the front door buzzer]
It’s her. [She stubs out her cigar on a tea plate]
[ALICE rises]
[She rises and crosses to the speaker R] It’s the bitch, the cow, the plague spot, the embossed carbuncle. [She pulls out the extending arm of the speaker and speaks into it] Hello, Mrs. Mercy, dear...Yes, we’re expecting you ... Top floor. [She pushes the speaker back against the wall and crosses to C] Don’t stand there, gawping. Blow your nose. Pull your sweater straight: you look disgusting. [She tweaks ALICE’s sweater down like an angry mother] Now, remember: be polite and keep mum. [She moves R.] I’ll speak to you later. [She pauses] Where the hell has she got to?
ALICE: Maybe she got stuck in the lift.
JUNE: [aghast] Oh, my God, I forgot to close the lift gates.
ALICE: [moving R of the table LC] I’ll do it.
JUNE: [in a hoarse whisper] Don’t—it’s too late. [The front door bell rings]
She’ll either walk, or . . .
ALICE: [suddenly scared] Let’s not open the door. [JUNE throws ALICE a glance expressing contempt and strides out through the arch R]
JUNE: [off R] Oh, hello, Mrs. Mercy. [The front door is heard to close] I’m so sorry—I forgot to tell you that the lift was out of order. [MRS. MERCY CROFT enters through the arch R. She is a well-groomed lady of indeterminate age, gracious of manner and freezingly polite. She is wearing a navy blue two-piece suit, matching hat and accessories, and a discreet double string of pearls round her neck. She carries a brief-case]
MERCY: [as she enters; cheerfully] Not at all—I never use the lift. [She sees ALICE] Oh? [She moves C]
[JUNE enters through the arch]
JUNE: [moving RC] This is Miss Alice McNaught—Mrs. Mercy Croft.
MERCY: [smiling but not shaking hands] How do you do? [She turns to JUNE] Yes, I always say: we get far too little exercise these days. If we walked upstairs instead of using lifts, those extra inches would disappear.
ALICE: [the mop behind her back; trying to be helpful] I sometimes walk . . .
MERCY: You don’t need to lose any weight, my dear.
JUNE: [at ALICE] Alice was just preparing the tea.
MERCY: Oh, that is nice. [She smiles politely at ALICE]
[JUNE, while MERCY is looking away, makes a furious gesture to ALICE to go into the kitchen]
I do hope I haven’t put you to any trouble—inviting myself out of the blue.
JUNE and ALICE: [together] Rubbish! Not at all. [ALICE exits to the kitchen]
MERCY: May I look round? [She moves up C] I adore looking at other people’s fiats—they do reflect their occupiers’ personalities in an uncannily accurate way. [JUNE moves to the fireplace]
[She looks around] To be perfectly honest, I imagined your home to be—different.
JUNE: Really?
MERCY: [indicating the ornaments on the bookcase] This charming Victoriana—the dolls—somehow . . .
JUNE: [slightly embarrassed] They’re Miss McNaught’s.
MERCY: Oh, of course, that would explain it. They just weren’t you. I didn’t know . . .
JUNE: [rather sheepishly] Yes, I have a flat-mate.
MERCY: [sympathetically] How nice. It’s so important to have—companionship—especially when one’s an artist.
JUNE: [moving down R and indicating the brasses on the wall] These are mine—I collect horse brasses.
MERCY: How useful. [She moves to the window] May I look out from your window? [JUNE moves up R of the sofa]
I love overlooking things. I’ve always adored heights. In my young days, my husband and I often used to go mountaineering—in the Austrian Alps for preference. [She looks out of the window and gives a sudden yell of delight] Ah! There’s B.H.! You can see Broadcasting House from your window—isn’t that—super! To have that reassuring presence brooding over you, seeing that you don’t get into mischief. [JUNE laughs nervously. ALICE raises the hatch L and leans through]
ALICE: Ready in a minute.
MERCY: Oh—good.
JUNE: Kindly close that hatch. [ALICE withdraws and slams the hatch down]
Sometimes I have the insuperable desire to decapitate her. [She laughs]
MERCY: [moving to L of the sofa] Oh, poor Miss McNaught. I do like your settee cover—a homely pattern. I love a floral design—I know it’s old-fashioned, but . . .
JUNE: Childie—Miss McNaught—made them.
MERCY: [putting her brief-case, handbag and gloves on the table behind the sofa] Really. How clever of her—they’re beautifully fitted. You’re fortunate to have such a handy companion.
JUNE: [moving down R; in her country accent] Yes, she’s good with the needle, I’ll say that for her.
MERCY: [lightly] That was Sister George speaking.
JUNE: [in her own voice; self-consciously] One can’t help slipping.
MERCY: [moving below the sofa] But you are Sister George far more than Miss June Buckridge to all of us at B.H.
JUNE: Jolly nice of you to say so. [She indicates to MERCY to sit on the sofa]
[MERCY sits on the sofa, at the left end of it. JUNE sits in the armchair R, with her knees apart]
MERCY: Thank you. You have made the part completely your own. It was obvious—even at the first auditions. I remember it quite clearly, although it must be—oh ...
JUNE: Almost six years ago. I was scared stiff.
MERCY: How charming! One can’t imagine you scared stiff.
JUNE: I don’t mind actual physical danger. You know, I almost like it. I was in the A.T.S. during the war.
MERCY: Lovely!
JUNE: None of that sissy ENSA stuff for yours truly.
MERCY: It wasn’t that bad. [There is a slight pause. JUNE’s smile fades] As a matter of fact, I did a bit of organizing for ENSA myself.
JUNE: I’m sorry. No offence meant.
MERCY: None taken. [She reaches over the back of the sofa and gets her brief-case ] Now, Miss Buckridge—or may I call you Sister George, like everybody else?
JUNE: Certainly.
MERCY: As you know, I hold a monthly ‘surgery’ in my office, when I welcome people to come to me with their problems. I’ve always made it a rule to be approachable. But in certain cases, involving matters of special importance, I prefer to visit the subjects in their own homes, so that we can talk more easily, without any duress. That’s why I’m here today.
JUNE: [in her country accent] Ah, well, a farmer’s footsteps are the best manure. [She laughs]
MERCY: Quite. But there is rather a serious matter I wish to discuss with you.
JUNE: I see. [ALICE enters from the kitchen, carrying a tray of tea. She has removed her apron]
ALICE: Sorry I took so long. [She puts the stray on the table LC]
MERCY: [slightly annoyed at the interruption, but politely] Ah, lovely! [She rises. To JUNE] We’ll continue our little chat after tea.
ALICE: If you’d rather . . .
JUNE: [rising and moving RC] You can speak quite freely, Mrs. Mercy. Miss McNaught and I have no secrets from each other.
MERCY: Oh. Well, let’s all have tea first. [ALICE moves the chair L of the table LC and places it above the table]
[She moves above the table LC] I say, what delicious-looking scones.
[ALICE moves the chair down L and places it L of the table]
ALICE: They’re Scotch scones. [She goes to the hatch, opens it and collects a plate with a lump of Dundee cake with four small slices of cake arranged beside it. She leaves the hatch open and puts the plate on the table LC]
JUNE: They’re Childie’s speciality. Copied from a recipe of her grandmother’s. [She sits R of the table] [MERCY sits above the table, and ALICE sits L of it]
MERCY: They look delish! May I try one?
ALICE: Help yourself. [She puts the plate of scones in front of MERCY] Here’s the jam. [She passes the jam-pot to MERCY]
MERCY: [taking a scone and spreading it with jam] They’re what we used to call ‘Girdle Scones’.
JUNE: [mocking MERCY’s infection] Or ‘Drop Scones’.
ALICE: It’s frightfully important not to get the girdle too hot, or the outside of the scones will brown before the inside is cooked.
MERCY: They’re a lovely even colour. [ALICE pours tea for MERCY and herself but not for JUNE]
ALICE: [very animated] I always cool them in a towel.
MERCY: Do you?
ALICE: Yes, and I wait till the bubbles rise to the surface before I turn them over.
MERCY: They’re very successful.
ALICE: I use half a level teaspoon of bicarbonate of soda—
MERCY: Now you’re giving away trade secrets.
ALICE:—and one level teaspoonful of cream of tartar—
JUNE: Shut up! [There is a moment’s silence]
ALICE:—eight ounces of flour—
JUNE: [exploding] Shut up!
ALICE: [softly but firmly]—and one egg.
JUNE: Shut up! [She picks up the lump of Dundee cake and hurls it at ALICE]
[ALICE ducks. The cake flies to pieces against the sideboard. There is a pause during which MERCY continues to cat unperturbed]
MERCY: Now then, girls!
ALICE: [after a pause] She hates me to talk about food. [Confidentially] She’s a wee bit overwrought.
JUNE: [rising] Overwrought my arse! [She stumps over to the fireplace, takes a cheroot from the box on the mantelpiece, and lights it]
ALICE: [chiding] Now that wasn’t nice—that was not a nice thing to say.
MERCY: [smiling indulgently] I expect she picked it up in the army.
ALICE: She swears like a trooper.
MERCY: But she has a heart of gold.
ALICE: Once, she got into such a temper, that I wrote a poem about it.
JUNE: [moving below the sofa; bitterly] Yes, she fancies herself as a poetess. Goes to the City Lit. every Wednesday night, to learn about metre and things.
MERCY: What a nice hobby.
JUNE: As a poetess, she makes a very good cook.
MERCY: It’s still a question of mixing the right ingredients to make a tasty whole.
ALICE: That night she came back in a raging temper—
JUNE: [moving C] Thank you very much, we’ve all stopped listening.
ALICE: [ignoring JUNE]—I wrote this poem. It began: ‘Fierce as the wind
Blows the rampaging termagant . . .’ [JUNE prowls furiously RC]
MERCY: Very expressive. [To JUNE] And how did you like being compared to the wind? [JUNE blows a raspberry. There is a pause. MERCY drinks her tea]
ALICE: [passing the plate of cake] Slice of cake, Mrs. Mercy? [JUNE sits R of the table]
MERCY: [taking a slice of cake] Just a teeny one. I mustn’t be greedy. [She spreads the cake with jam]
[ALICE takes a piece of cake]
JUNE: Her mother made it. [She continues smoking and uses her plate as an ashtray]
MERCY: You can always tell if it’s home-baked; it tastes quite different.
JUNE: [laughing] You’d be amazed if you knew what old Mother McNaught put into it.
MERCY: I’m not even going to ask.
JUNE: I’m delighted to hear it. [She laughs]
MERCY: [enjoying herself]Oh, dear, this is just like a dormitory feast—all this girlish banter. [To JUNE] I bet you were a terror at school. [She eats her cake]
JUNE: I was captain of the hockey team and a keen disciplinarian—God help the girl I caught—[in her country accent] making me an apple-pie bed. [She chuckles]
MERCY: Ah, there’s Sister George again. It’s wonderful how over the years the character’s evolved.
ALICE: Who first thought of putting her on a Moped?
JUNE: That was because of the sound effects. As long as I was on the old bike, listeners never knew whether I was static or mobile.
MERCY: It’s a unique sound—Sister George on her Moped, whizzing through the countryside, singing snatches of hymns. [She drinks her tea]
JUNE: I got into a terrible row the other day because I sang a hymn which sounded like ‘On the good ship Venus . . .’
MERCY: A traditional air?
JUNE: I’ve found it safer to stick to hymns. Once I tried a pop song, and d’you know—hundreds of letters came in protesting.
MERCY: We learn from experience. But we don’t want Applehurst falling behind the times.
JUNE: No. [She looks away. Worried] No, of course not.
MERCY: But we must constantly examine criticism, and if it’s constructive, we must act on it. Ruthlessly.
JUNE: What sort of criticism?
MERCY: Oh, nothing in particular. At least...
JUNE: But what?
MERCY: Well, that, I’m afraid, brings me—[she rises] to the unpleasant part of my business.
ALICE: Oh, dear!
MERCY: But first, would you show me to the little girls’ room?
JUNE: [rising] Alice-show Mrs. Mercy to the...
ALICE: [rising and moving up L] This way, Mrs. Mercy. [ALICE exits up L. MERCY follows her off]
JUNE: [muttering] ‘Little girls’...’ [She moves to the table behind the sofa, stubs out her cigar in the ashtray on it, and looks off up L]
ALICE: [off] It’s that door there. [JUNE sees MERCY’s brief-case on the sofa, looks of L, hurriedly picks up the brief-case, crosses to the armchair R and opens the case. ALICE enters up L and stands at the top of the steps]
[Aghast] What are you doing?
JUNE: [turning] Shh! Keep a look-out. [She rummages in the case]
ALICE: [moving up C] You can’t, you mustn’t.
JUNE: [taking a folder from the case] My own personal file.
ALICE: [in an hysterical whisper] Put it back! [JUNE searches in the folder, takes an envelope from it and reads the inscription]
JUNE: ‘Sister George. Confidential.’ [The sound of a water cistern flushing is heard off L]
ALICE: She’s coming. [JUNE quickly replaces the folder in the brief-case, moves up R of the sofa, closes the brief-case and puts it on the sofa. She realizes too late that she has still got the envelope in her hand, so quickly hides it behind a cushion at the right end of the sofa. She then picks up the doll Emmeline from the table behind the sofa]
JUNE: So Emmeline said: ‘I don’t want any drop scones today, thank you very much.’ [MERCY enters up L and crosses below the sofa. JUNE and ALICE stand rigid with suspense]
MERCY: I got on the scales, to see if I’ve put on any weight. [She picks up her brief-case]
JUNE: [indicating the tea table] I don’t suppose... [Meaning ‘you would like any more tea?’]
MERCY: [sitting on the sofa] Now, then ...
ALICE: I’ll make myself scarce. [ALICE exits to the kitchen]
MERCY: Please sit down. [JUNE sits in the armchair R]
You won’t hold it against me if I speak quite plainly?
JUNE: Please do.
MERCY: It’s my unpleasant duty to haul you over the coals and administer a severe reprimand.
JUNE: [with no apology in her tone] Oh?
MERCY: Believe me. Sister George, I’d much rather let bygones be bygones...
JUNE: [in her country accent] Let sleeping dogs lie.
MERCY: Precisely. But I must remind you of the little chat we had just about a year ago, after that unfortunate incident in the Club—involving a lady colleague of mine.
JUNE: [in her country accent] Well, we don’t want to rake over old embers.
MERCY: I don’t intend to. But in the light of recent events, it’s difficult to forget an incident as vivid as the pouring of a glass of beer over the Assistant Head of Talks. I had hoped one black mark—[she opens her brief-case] would have been enough for you, but this morning—[she takes out a clip-board and removes a sheet of paper from it] I received this memo from the Director of Religious Broadcasting. [She hands the paper to JUNE] I should like to have your comments. [She puts the brief-case beside her on the sofa, but holds the clip-board on her knee]
[JUNE reads the paper then jumps up violently]
JUNE: [excitedly] It’s a lie! It’s an utter, bloody lie!
MERCY: [firmly] Please calm Yourself, Miss Buckridge. Kindly hand me back the paper.
JUNE: [handing the paper to MERCY] It’s—preposterous! [She moves up R of the sofa]
MERCY: [looking at the paper as she replaces it on the clip-board] I take it you don’t deny that you were drinking in The Bells on the night of the nineteenth?
JUNE: [turning at the fireplace] How the hell should I know? [She crosses to C and calls] Alice! Come here. [ALICE enters from the kitchen, wide-eyed and worried]
ALICE: You want me?
JUNE: Where was I on the night of the nineteenth?
MERCY: I’m sorry to involve you in this, Miss McNaught. [She rises]
ALICE: [quietly] That was a Wednesday: I was at the City Lit.
JUNE: You would be. [She moves to L of MERCY] All right; I possibly was drinking at The Bells on the night in question, having a few pints with the boys. There’s no crime in that, is there?
MERCY: Miss Buckridge, according to this letter—[she refers to the second paper on her clip-board] from the Mother Superior of the Convent of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, you boarded a taxi which had stopped at the traffic lights at Langham Place...
JUNE: I thought it was empty.
MERCY: [reading] ‘A taxi bearing as passengers two novitiate nuns from Ireland who had just arrived at King’s Cross Station.’
JUNE: How was I to know?
MERCY: You boarded this taxi in a state of advanced inebriation—[she looks at JUNE] and—[she consults the paper] proceeded to assault the two nuns, subjecting them to actual physical violence.
ALICE: [moving below the table LC] You didn’t really!
JUNE: No, no, no, of course not. I’d had a few pints—I saw this cab, got in—and there were these two black things—screaming blue murder.
MERCY: Why didn’t you get out again?
JUNE: Well, I’d had a very nasty shock myself. What with their screaming and flapping about—I thought they were bats, vampire bats. It was they who attacked me. I remember getting all entangled in their skirts and petticoats and things—the taxi driver had to pull me free.
MERCY: A deplorable anecdote. [She refers to the paper] According to the Mother Superior, one of the nuns required medical treatment for shock, and is still under sedation. [She pauses] She thought it was the devil. [She moves to the sofa, sits on it at the right end and replaces the clip-board in her brief-case]
ALICE: George, how could you!
JUNE: [moving to R of ALICE] Don’t you start on me. Back to the kitchen. Washing up. Presto!
ALICE: [firmly] No, I’m staying here. [She sits L of the table LC] This concerns me, too.
JUNE: [moving up C] It was all a ghastly mistake.
MERCY: No doubt, but it’ll take some explaining.
JUNE: Fancy reporting it to the Director of Religious Broadcasting. What a nasty thing to do for a holy woman. [She moves to L of the sofa]
MERCY: The Mother Superior is responsible for the nuns in her charge.
JUNE: [leaning over the left arm of the sofa to MERCY] Then she should jolly well teach them how to behave in public. I got the fright of my life, in there. Those nuns were like mice—albino mice—with teeny little white faces and weeny little red eyes. And they were vicious, too. They scratched and they bit. [She bares her arm] Look—you can still see the tooth marks—do you see that? I’ve a good mind to make a countercomplaint to the Mother Superior. [She moves up R of the table LC] They deserve to be scourged in their cells.
MERCY: [wearily] I can hardly put through a report to the Controller, informing him of your allegation that you were bitten by two nuns.
JUNE: No, well, you could say ...
MERCY: Let’s be practical, Sister George—we’re concerned with retaining the trust and respect of the public. Now people are perfectly well aware that artists frequently work under great emotional stress. We do all we can to gloss over minor disciplinary offences, but we simply cannot tolerate this sort of behavior. It’s things like this which make people resent paying more for their wireless licenses. Thousands of pounds spent on public relations—[she rises and moves RC] and you jeopardize it all with your reckless and foolish behavior. Really, Sister George, we have every reason to be very, very angry with you. [JUNE, beaten, sits wearily R of the table LC]
JUNE: What do you want me to do?
MERCY: [moving to R of JUNE] You must write a letter immediately to the Mother Superior, apologizing sincerely for your behaviour, and I suggest you offer a small donation for some charity connected with the Convent. Then you must send a copy of your letter to the Director of Religious Broadcasting, with a covering note from you, couched in suitable terms.
JUNE: You mean: humbling myself?
ALICE: [rising and moving above the table LC] Don’t worry, Mrs. Mercy, I’ll see she does it and I’ll make quite sure she doesn’t get into any mischief in the future.
MERCY: There speaks a true friend. [To JUNE] You’re very lucky to have someone like Miss McNaught to rely on. Treasure her. [She crosses to R of the sofa, then moves above it and collects her gloves, handbag and brief-case]
JUNE: [bitterly] I’ll treasure her all right. [ALICE moves to the sofa, sits on the left arm of it and puts her feet on the scat]
ALICE: I’ll see to it that the letters are written and sent off right away.
MERCY: [moving down RC and putting on her gloves] Good. That’s what I like to hear. [To JUNE] I’ll leave you in Miss McNaught’s expert charge.
JUNE: What about Applehurst?
MERCY: [non-committally] That’s another, rather more complex problem.
JUNE: [rising and moving to L of MERCY] But—has anything been decided about the future?
MERCY: I’m afraid I can’t say anything about that at the moment.
JUNE: [moving down L] It comes as a bit of a shock to me, you know, all this.
MERCY: [moving C] It comes as a bit of a shock to me, too, I assure you, particularly as I understand that you often open church bazaars. [JUNE turns slowly to face MERCY]
ALICE: [rising and moving to R of MERCY] I’ll look after her. I’ll keep her away from convents.
MERCY: You keep her on a tight rein, and all will be well.
ALICE: I’m sure it will. Between us we’ll keep her in order.
MERCY: [jocularly] She won’t stand a chance, will she? [ALICE moves down R, and keeps a steady look on JUNE throughout the next passage]
JUNE: [moving to L of MERCY] Look here—I’m sorry—you know—if I’ve been a bad boy. [MERCY turns her charm on JUNE and shakes hands with her]
MERCY: Well, good-bye, dear Sister George. Keep your chin up. Things are never as bad as they seem.
JUNE: [in her country accent; listlessly] Every cloud has a silver lining.
MERCY: That’s the spirit. And—[she whispers confidentially] no more walkouts at rehearsals, eh? If you have any complaints please come and see me about them.
JUNE: [in her country accent] Well, it’s the creaking gate that gets oiled.
MERCY: [refecting for a moment] A somewhat unfortunate simile. [JUNE looks at MERCY]
[She turns to ALICE] So nice to have met you.
ALICE: [moving to R of MERCY] Nice to have met you, Mrs. Mercy. [MERCY crosses to the arch R]
[She follows to L of MERCY] What’s the subject of your talk tomorrow?
Is it a secret, or are you allowed to tell?
MERCY: It’s family planning this week and foundation garments next. [MERCY and ALICE exit to the arch. JUNE moves RC and looks nervously after them ]
ALICE: [off] Good-bye. [The front door is heard to close. JUNE turns away quickly to LC. ALICE enters R and stands in the archway R]
[She gives JUNE a meaningful look] Well!
JUNE: [alarmed] Did she say anything? Did she drop any hints behind my back?
ALICE: [moving above the sofa; sarcastically] No. Just general comments—you know—about—[angrily] nuns in taxis. [She collects JUNE’s gin glass from the table behind the sofa]
JUNE: What do you mean?
ALICE: [crossing to the sideboard] Nuns. You know—N-U-N-S. Brides of Christ. [She bangs the glass down on to the tray on the sideboard]
JUNE: [moving C] Oh, I see what’s biting you.
ALICE: [moving above the table LC; in an outburst] How could you! How could you make such an exhibition of yourself? [She stacks the crockery on to the tray]
JUNE: [trying to laugh ALICE out of it] Oh, come on, be your age. Don’t be so bloody—squeamish.
ALICE: [primly] I think you owe me some sort of explanation.
JUNE: [chuckling] When I think of all those petticoats... [She waves her arms]
ALICE: It’s the sort of thing you used to do when I first knew you. In that club in Notting Hill Gate. I remember how you used to go clomping about, without a bra, hitting girls over the head. [She picks up the tray and puts it through the hatch]
JUNE: Kindly keep your foul-mouthed recollections to yourself. [ALICE returns to the table LC]
In my young days...
ALICE: [collecting the jam and plates] Your young days were spent in a cul-de-sac in Aldershot, with the Band of Hope on one side and the Foot Clinic on the other. You told me so yourself. [She puts the jam and plates through the hatch]
JUNE: [angrily] How dare you! [She moves to the sofa and sits on it at the right end] This is a respectable house—and I’ll thank you to remember who’s paying the rent.
ALICE: [folding the tablecloth] Not much longer, perhaps.
JUNE: They wouldn’t dare get rid of me because of this—of this trivial incident.
ALICE: [imitating JUNE’s country accent] We none of us know what the future may hold for us. [She puts the tablecloth in the sideboard cupboard]
JUNE: [after a pause] Childie, I’m worried. I say, do me a favor. [ALICE reaches through the kitchen door and collects a dust-pan and brush]
ALICE: What? [She goes to the sideboard and brushes up the remains of the cake thrown by JUNE]
JUNE: Go and ask Madame Xenia to come up. She’s an expert on the future.
ALICE: Oh, I can’t. She’s probably got a client.
JUNE: Maybe she’s between appointments. Go on.
ALICE: [kneeling and sweeping up crumbs L of the table LC] I can’t just barge in ...
JUNE: Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. Remember when I was bitten by that Lakeland Terrier and you thought I had rabies. She can always tell us what’s going to happen. Go on.
ALICE: [rising; exasperated] Ohhh! [She returns the dust-pan and brush to the kitchen]
JUNE: [rising and moving C] This is an emergency. Extreme measures must be taken. Go and get her at once.
ALICE: I can’t. She hates my guts.
JUNE: Madame Xenia? Why?
ALICE: She thinks I’m after her lodger. [JUNE looks menacing]
It’s complete fantasy.
JUNE: [in her country accent; ominously] There’s no smoke without fire.
ALICE: Just like the last one you scared off.
JUNE: [in her own voice] I could see which way the wind was blowing. I soon nipped that in the bud.
ALICE: I only helped him with his homework. He was a mere boy.
JUNE: [decisively] There is nothing mere about boys. Now go and fetch her at once and watch your step.
ALICE: You’ve always got to have someone to do your dirty work. [She trails off and crosses to R with the slummocky walk typical of all her movements throughout the play]
JUNE: Thanks—you’re a pal. [ALICE exits through the arch R]
[She moves to L of the table behind the sofa, picks up the framed certificate and reads it] ‘... and in recognition of your devoted work and care for the old and sick.’ [She replaces the certificate, moves to R of the sofa, remembers the envelope and takes it from behind the cushion. She is tempted, does not dare to open it, replaces it behind the cushion and crosses to C]
ALICE: [off R] I’m so sorry to drag you away.
XENIA: [off R] That’s all right. I know. I know. [MADAME XENIA enters through the arch R. She is a hawk-faced, elderly woman of foreign origin, hennaed and hung with beads. She carries a little evening bag with a pack of playing cards in it. ALICE follows her on]
George! George? Darling? What’s the matter?
ALICE: [moving down R] Madame was in the middle of a consultation with a client.
JUNE: Oh, I am sorry.
XENIA: [crossing to R of JUNE and embracing her] Never mind. You are my friend. [She holds JUNE at arm’s length] Always you come first. Now—[she pats JUNE’s arm] darling, what’s the matter?
JUNE: Madame Xenia, I’m worried out of my wits. It’s the B.B.C. They’re driving me mad.
XENIA: [crossing above JUNE to the table LC] They will suffer for it. I will put curses on them. [She sits above the table LC. To JUNE; professionally] Sit down; make yourself at home.
JUNE: Thanks. [She sits R of the table LC]
XENIA: Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. I always say it to people to make them relax. Right. Would you draw the curtains, please? [She takes the cards from her bag]
JUNE: [rising] Certainly. [She goes to the window and closes the curtains]
XENIA: [to ALICE] And you: will you please sit facing the East.
ALICE: [looking around] Which way’s the East?
XENIA: [pointing L] There. Towards Great Portland Street. [She shuffles the cards]
ALICE: [sitting On the pouffe and facing L] Yes, of course. [JUNE moves C]
XENIA: [looking at JUNE] I require a personal possession from you—[June looks startled]
—to hold in my hand. To connect with your vibrations. Anything—a piece of jewellery...
JUNE: [sheepishly] I don’t wear jewellery. Will a hankie do? [She takes a handkerchief from her pocket then resumes her seat R of the table]
XENIA: [taking JUNE’s handkerchief] Beautiful. Now to work. First a warning. Next week will be tough for Sagittarians—Mars is in conjunction with Venus, and I don’t have to tell you what that means. [She puts the cards on the table] Cut the cards.
JUNE: [cutting the cards] All right?
XENIA: Again. [JUNE cuts again]
And once more, just for luck. [JUNE cuts again]
ALICE: As the bishop said to the actress. [XENIA turns up one card from each little pile]
JUNE: [to ALICE; sternly] We can dispense with observations from the East.
XENIA: [scrutinizing the cards] A short journey to see a friend; a pleasant surprise; unexpected money. [She turns up another card] The Queen of Spades—a woman in black you do not like?
ALICE: The Mother Superior?
JUNE: Shut up!
XENIA : Whoever it is—keep out of her way—she’s no good to you.
JUNE: [stuttering] What—what is she going to do?
XENIA: [consulting the cards] She’s inviting you to a big do.
JUNE: [incredulously] The Mother Superior? [ALICE giggles and JUNE laughs with her]
XENIA: I see lots of people, lots of drink, dancing...
ALICE: [lightly] I know! It’s not the convent—it’s the drag ball at Richmond.
XENIA: [continuing with the cards] Maybe. A slight emotional upset. [JUNE and XENIA look at ALICE]
Nothing serious. [She looks at the cards] You hear of a broken romantic association. You catch a cold—a very bad cold.
JUNE: [alarmed] When?
XENIA: [thoughtfully] Maybe it’s because I’m holding your handkerchief. Forget the cold. [She returns the handkerchief to JUNE] What else? [She looks at the cards]
JUNE: My career.
XENIA: I can see a red-headed man.
JUNE: [turning to ALICE] Ginger the publican. [To XENIA] What’s he doing?
XENIA: I’m afraid it’s not very clear. Ah! I see a letter—a very important letter.
ALICE: [suddenly remembering] The envelope!
JUNE: [panic-stricken] The envelope.
ALICE and JUNE: [together] The envelope! [ALICE rises and runs to the sofa. JUNE jumps up]
XENIA: [helpfully] It could be a postcard.
ALICE: [snatching the letter from behind the cushion] Here it is. [To JUNE] Do you want to open it?
JUNE: [anguished] No.
ALICE: Let’s send it back to her—tell her she must have dropped it out of her bag.
JUNE: [crossing to ALICE] No, no. It’s fallen into our hands—we’d better read it.
XENIA: [rising and crossing to JUNE] May I see the envelope?
JUNE: Yes, of course. [She gives the envelope to XENIA]
[XENIA steps mysteriously down C and holds the envelope to her cheek]
Do you—do you get any—vibrations?
XENIA: [carefully] Mmm. It’s difficult to say. It could mean one of two things.
JUNE: [squaring her shoulders] Give it to me. I’m going to open it. [She takes the envelope from XENIA, crosses down LC and opens it] What must be, must be. [She glances at the contents and collapses on to the chair L of the table LC] Oh, my God! [She drops the letter to the floor]
[ALICE rushes and kneels L of JUNE. XENIA kneels and picks up the letter]
ALICE: George! What’s the matter? George! [JUNE remains impassive. XENIA reads the letter]
[To Xenia] What does it say?
XENIA: [reading] ‘Memo from Audience Research. Latest Popularity Ratings.’ [She rises slowly] ‘Sister George sixty-four point five per cent. Ginger Kopkins sixty-eight: [ALICE collapses, sitting back on her heels]
JUNE: That’s the weapon they’ve been waiting for. [She rises] Now they’ll kill me. [JUNE rushes towards the bedroom door up C as—
the CURTAIN quickly falls]