Scene: The same. Two weeks later. Morning.
Before the CURTAIN rises, as the house-lights fade, the ‘Applehurst Theme’ is heard.
When the CURTAIN rises, the music fades. It is a sunny October morning. There is an abundance of flowers everywhere, including a large yellow wreath on the window-seat, a bouquet on the table behind the sofa, a pink and red wreath R of the radiogram, and a white wreath R of the banisters. On the table LC there are piles of telegrams and a transistor tape-recorder. XENIA, discreetly dressed in mauve, is sitting R of the table LC, listening to SISTER GEORGE‘s accident on the tape-recorder. As the ‘Applehurst Theme’ swells up and fades, XENIA switches off the transistor and wipes her eyes.
XENIA: [overcome] Oi oi oi—poor George! [The front door bell rings]
[She rises] All right, all right, I come. [XENIA exits through the arch R]
[Off] Yes, I will take them, but I don’t know where I am going to put them. [XENIA re-enters through the arch, carrying a wreath, a bouquet, and a large cross of yellow roses]
Soon we shall not be able to move. [She puts the wreath and bouquet on the sofa, and leans the cross against the left end of the Sofa]
[The telephone rings]
[She moves to the telephone and lifts the receiver] They are mad. I told them we were not accepting any more calls. [into the telephone] You are mad. I told you we were not accepting any more calls. . . A message from whom? ... The girls of your Exchange? . . . Yes, I will convey it ... Very nice of you. . . Charming. Miss Buckridge will be very touched... Who am I? . . . Never you mind—I am her temporary secretary... No, I have nothing to do with Applehurst... No, I am not the old gypsy woman who stole a pig. You are beginning to make me very upset. I will not speak to you any more. And no more calls, if you please. [She replaces the receiver] Stupid nit! [She crosses to the fireplace]
[ALICE enters from the bedroom, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She wears baby doll pyjamas]
ALICE: What time is it?
XENIA: [with a black look] Half past ten. [She picks up the wreath and bouquet from the sofa]
ALICE: Heavens—I’m going to be late for the funeral [She nearly trips over the yellow cross leaning against the sofa] Oh, not more flowers—I shall never find my things. [She kneels, looks under the sofa, finds one slipper and puts it on]
[XENIA takes the wreath and bouquet and leans them against the upstage end of the bookcase]
XENIA: [pointedly] I have been working already two hours.
ALICE: Where’s George?
XENIA: [crossing to L of the sofa] Out—gone. I don’t know where. I am very worried.
ALICE: [standing below the sofa] Gone? When?
XENIA: Since early this morning. I came up with two wreaths and some lilies—she took one look, rushed into the lift, slammed the gate in my face and went down like a captain on a sinking ship—but not saluting—swearing.
ALICE: [sitting in the armchair R] I hope she is not going to do something awful.
XENIA: I think she could not stand to be in the flat another moment with all this. [She looks round at the flowers and picks up the yellow cross] She felt claustrophobia—I must get out. [She moves to the sideboard] It has been terrible for her since the accident—nothing but the telephone—letters—reporters, [She places the yellow cross against the centre of the sideboard]
ALICE: She ought never to have listened to the accident—it was dreadful.
XENIA: [moving above the table LC] Oi oi oi, I just listened to the tape again—that beautiful hymn—the screeching brakes—then—[she puts her hands to her face] crash, bang, wallop!
ALICE: [covering her ears] Don’t!
XENIA: It was like a gas-works blowing up—horrible. [She shudders] I cried again.
ALICE: [rising] Ought we to ring up the police or something? [XENIA picks up the tape-recorder, goes up L and puts it down just off up L]
XENIA: No. We must wait. And work. Everything must be right for her when she comes back. [ALICE goes to the sofa, puts the cushions at the left end and flops on to it, lying with her head L]
ALICE: I feel so exhausted—I think it’s the strain.
XENIA: [moving to L of the sofa] Nonsense—it was the farewell party last night. You have no stamina. You are a—what you call it—a milksop. [She moves to R of the radiogram and picks up a pink and red wreath]
ALICE: I’ve probably caught a cold. George stuffed a peach Melba down the back of my dress. Really, she’s getting worse and worse.
XENIA: [moving to L of the sofa and reading the card on the wreath] Listen to this. ‘Unforgotten, from the patients and staff of the Sister George Geriatrics Ward.’ Beautiful! I could cry. [She crosses to the sideboard]
ALICE: She’ll like that.
XENIA: [placing the wreath against the wall above the sideboard] All wreaths against the wall. There. All beautifully organized.
ALICE: Honestly, Madame Xenia, you’re a brick.
XENIA: [moving to L of the table LC; suspiciously] Why do you say that?
ALICE: It’s an expression: a friend, a help.
XENIA: I see. [She makes a note in a notebook on the table LC] But I promised George I would take charge today and I hold my promise.
ALICE: [rising and moving C] Could I look at some of the telegrams?
XENIA: If you’re very careful and don’t get them mixed up. [She points to three piles of opened telegrams] Those are personal, those are official and those are doubtful.
ALICE: Let’s look at some of the doubtfuls. [She picks up a telegram ]
XENIA: [sitting wearily L of the table LC] What I would like more than anything is a nice cup of tea.
ALICE: [moving C and reading the telegram] Oh, no!
XENIA: What?
ALICE: [bitterly] Trust her to get in on the act. [She crumples the telegram and moves R]
XENIA: [chiding] You must not do this.
ALICE: [very red in the face] How dare she send telegrams after all these years?
XENIA: From what person?
ALICE: [reading] ‘Heartfelt condolences. Love Liz.’
XENIA: Liz?
ALICE: A friend of George’s. Before my time.
XENIA: Aha!
ALICE: [moving L of the sofa] An absolute cow. Kept writing sarcastic little notes at first; things like ‘hope you are divinely happy’ and ‘hope this finds you as it leaves me—guess how’. [She sits on the left arm of the sofa]
XENIA: [quietly] What I would like more than anything is a nice cup of tea.
ALICE: Anyway, she stole a fountain pen and a camera off George.
XENIA: [clicking her teeth] Tut-tut. [She opens a telegram from the pile of unopened ones on the table]
ALICE: ‘Heartfelt condolences’—she’s mocking her.
XENIA: [changing the subject] Listen to this. Here is a nice one from my old friend the Baroness. [She reads] ‘Shall be thinking of you today. Best wishes for a triumphant funeral. Love Augusta: She specially put off her hairdresser so that she can listen to the funeral this morning. And she only met George once—at my Hallowe’en party last year.
ALICE: Which one was the Baroness?
XENIA: She came as Julius Caesar. At least that’s what we thought she was meant to be. [ALICE rises, moves R and looks off through the arch]
ALICE: I hope George isn’t going to be late.
XENIA: I think it is a mistake for her to listen today. Psychologically it is a mistake.
ALICE: [wandering to the window] Oh, I don’t know. She can’t just play a character for six years and miss her own exit.
XENIA: But it will upset her. [She makes a note on the pad]
[ALICE picks up an orange, circular wreath from the window-seat and takes it down L of the sofa]
ALICE: All her old friends will be there—people she’s worked with for years. There’ll be tributes paid. [She sits on the left arm of the sofa] There’ll be a proper service. I mean to say: there’s a right way and a wrong way of doing things. [She stretches one bare leg through the middle of the wreath]
XENIA: [shrugging] I do not understand you.
ALICE: Maybe in your country, people ...
XENIA: [flaring up] What do you mean: in my country? We had state funerals which could have taught you something: twenty-eight horses with black plumes, ha!
ALICE: [bitchily] Well, you had a lot of practice, didn’t you? All those assassinations.
XENIA: Assassinations?
ALICE: Shooting people.
XENIA: Of course we shoot people we don’t like. You send them to the House of Lords—what’s the difference?
ALICE: [rising] Anyway, if you expect the B.B.C. to lay on twenty-eight horses with black plumes, you’re in for a disappointment. [She throws the wreath upstage against the bottom of the radio-gram and moves above the table LC]
XENIA: [jumping up; furious] Do you want me to go? [She crosses towards the arch R] Immediately I go downstairs.
ALICE: [moving to L of XENIA] No, no.
XENIA: [stopping and turning] You can explain my absence to George when she comes back. If she comes back. [She turns to go]
ALICE: [running to XENIA] No! Madame Xenia, please stay—I didn’t mean to be rude. [XENIA stops and turns]
It’s my nerves, I’m so worried about George—supposing she’s really cracked up and thrown herself under a bus or something—what am I going to do?
XENIA: [after a pause] No, it is not a bus. [Mysteriously] I read the cards this morning—it is something to do with the head.
ALICE: [moving down RC] The head! Oh, no, I can’t bear it. [The sound is heard of a door handle rattling off R]
XENIA: Shhh! There’s somebody at the door.
ALICE: George!
XENIA: Look cheerful—she must see happy faces. [The sound is heard of a door closing off R. XENIA moves to the fireplace]
ALICE: [rushing towards the kitchen door L] She’ll kill me if she sees me walking about like this.
JUNE: [off R; shouting] Open the windows and let the sunshine in. [ALICE realizes it is too late to escape, grabs the cross of yellow roses by the sideboard and tries to hide behind it, staying down L]
XENIA: [apprehensively] We are here, my darling. [JUNE sails in through the arch R, wearing an extravagant orange chiffon hat with her tweed suit and carrying a picnic basket]
JUNE: [as she enters] It’s glorious out. [She crosses to C and turns to XENIA] Darling—how sweet of you to hold the fort—I do hope you weren’t pestered too much. [ALICE’s wreath rustles]
[She turns and sees ALICE] Oh God, down in the forest something stirred. [She puts the basket on the table LC]
XENIA: [moving C] George, we were so worried—where have you been?
JUNE: [opening the basket] Shopping. I picked up this marvellous Christmas Gift hamper packed full of goodies. And two bottles of Veuve Cliquot ’fifty-three. [She takes two bottles from the basket and puts them on the table]
XENIA: But—what for?
JUNE: I’ve decided to skip the funeral and have a celebration.
XENIA: Celebration?
JUNE: Yes, more a coming-out party, really.
XENIA: But who is coming out?
JUNE: I am.
XENIA: [looking at JUNE’s hat] I see you bought something else, as well.
JUNE: Do you like it?
XENIA: It is charming! Where did you find it?
JUNE: That little shop on the corner. Saw it in the window and couldn’t resist it.
XENIA: You were absolutely right. It does something for you.
JUNE: Do you think so?
XENIA: It makes you look so young. Like eighteen years. [JUNE and XENIA laugh happily. ALICE sniggers sarcastically]
JUNE: [turning on ALICE and moving below the table LC] What are you laughing at? And why aren’t you dressed yet? You look positively indecent.
ALICE: [putting the yellow cross on the floor down L] I overslept. I had a bit of a hangover.
JUNE: [incredulously] A hangover? After two glasses of shandy?
ALICE: I mixed it a bit.
JUNE: What with—ginger ale? [JUNE and XENIA laugh together at this. ALICE does not reply]
[She moves down LC] Do you think it proper to entertain visitors in this—this unseemly attire?
XENIA: [placatingly] Oh, please—please.
JUNE: Did you make Madame Xenia a cup of tea?
XENIA: It really wasn’t necessary.
JUNE: [to Alice] What’s the matter with you?
ALICE: Don’t know.
JUNE: You should have been out and about for the last three hours. Did you do your exercises?
ALICE: [defiantly] No.
JUNE: [moving to L of XENIA] Oh, God help us, she takes a Keep Fit course, you know: knee bends, running on the spot, bicycling on her back. To judge by her condition it’s been singularly ineffective [She moves to R of ALICE] I want a cup of tea now. And one for Madame Xenia. And get dressed. And look sharpish about it. [She claps her hands] Avanti!
ALICE: [after a pause; looking straight at June] I think your hat is a mistake.
JUNE: [thundering] What? [ALICE does not reply]
This day will end in tears.
ALICE: [shouting] They won’t be my tears. [ALICE runs out to the kitchen]
JUNE: [moving up L of the table LC] The baggage! The little baggage.
XENIA: [moving R of the table LC] She is upset.
JUNE: [rounding on XENIA] She has no business to be upset: it’s my funeral.
[She crosses to the sofa]
XENIA: [putting one champagne bottle back into the basket and fastening the clasp] She’s taking it hard. Some people...
JUNE: Oh, some people are no good in a crisis. I’ve seen it over and over again during the war.
XENIA: Ah, the war. I was an air raid warden.
JUNE: [sitting on the sofa] I was in the Army. Attached to the Commandos. It was tough, but by God it was rewarding.
XENIA: [picking up the basket and putting it on the floor above the sideboard] It’s lucky for her she wasn’t old enough.
JUNE: Childie in the Army? That’d be a giggle. She’d have collapsed under the weight of her forage cap. [She laughs]
XENIA: [picking up the red and pink wreath] Would you like to go through the latest tributes? [She crosses to L of the sofa]
JUNE: If it’s absolutely necessary.
XENIA: Look at this—from the patients and staff of the Sister George Geriatrics Ward. In that hospital your name will never die.
JUNE: [firmly] Her name.
XENIA: Her name, your name: it’s the same thing.
JUNE: No, it’s not. George and I have parted company. And do you know, I’m glad to be free of the silly bitch.
XENIA: What?
JUNE: Honestly.
XENIA: George, what are you saying?
JUNE: I’m saying that my name is June. June Buckridge. I’m endeavouring to memorize it.
XENIA: [laughing] You are incredible! [She replaces the wreath against the wall above the sideboard]
[ALICE enters from the kitchen, carrying a tray of tea for two, with the crumpled telegram on a side plate. She puts the tray on the table LC and takes the telegram on the plate to JUNE. XENIA sits L of the table LC and pours a cup of tea for herself]
ALICE: I’m afraid one of the telegrams got crumpled up. You’d better read it.
JUNE: What telegram?
ALICE: Here. [She holds out the plate] Will there be any reply, Modom?
[JUNE takes the telegram and reads it]
JUNE: Liz—I don’t believe it.
ALICE: I thought you’d be pleased. [She moves to R of the table LC]
XENIA: [attempting to mediate] It’s always nice to hear from old friends.
ALICE: [moving above the table LC and singing to the tune of ‘Auld Lang Syne’] La la la la, la la la la... Sugar, Madame Xenia? [She angrily pushes the sugar bowl towards XENIA]
XENIA: No, thank you. I take it neat.
JUNE: [reminiscing] She was a thoroughbred, you know, Liz: nervy, stringy, temperamental. I remember I used to tease her because her hair grew down her neck, like a thin mane, between her shoulder-blades.
[ALICE bangs the plate down on the table LC and runs off into the bedroom, slamming the door violently behind her]
[She laughs] Ho, I knew that would annoy her.
XENIA: She got out of bed with the left foot this morning.
JUNE: Her behaviour recently has left much to be desired. I may have to speak to her mother about it.
XENIA: She has her mother here?
JUNE: No, no, no. In Glasgow. Inoffensive old soul. Bakes cakes; minds her own business—but a terrific mumbler. Can’t understand a word she says. [She mumbles inaudibly in a high-pitched refined Scottish accent] Ooo noo noo noo. You’re far too decent, you’re may guest, would you no’ like a cup of tea and a hot pay about fave and twenty past fave.
[She laughs]
XENIA: [laughing] Oh, you are a scream!
JUNE: [rising and moving to R of the table LC] Well, come on—let’s open the champers. [She looks at the flowers] Then we can clear out some of the foliage. [The door bell rings off R]
XENIA: [rising and crossing R] I go. Soon we shall need a greenhouse.
JUNE: I say, thanks awfully for helping me out today, Madame Xenia.
XENIA: But you are my friend. For you I do anything. [The door bell rings off R]
Perhaps this one is from Buckingham Palace. [XENIA laughs and exits through the arch]
JUNE. And about time, too. They’ve been slacking. [She untwists the wire of the champagne cork]
XENIA: [off] Oh. Did you want to see Miss Buckridge? [MERCY enters through the arch. She is dressed in mourning with a small black hat. She carries a sheaf of lilies.
XENIA follows her on. As MERCY reaches C, JUNE opens the champagne with a pop. Froth pours out. JUNE puts one hand over the mouth of the bottle and turns to ask for glasses]
JUNE: Have you got...? [She sees MERCY]
MERCY: I do hope I’m not disturbing you.
JUNE: [surprised] Mrs. Mercy! No, of course not. [She puts the bottle on the table LC and wipes her hand on her skirt]
MERCY: [handing the bouquet to JUNE] Dear Sister George—for you—a little tribute—from all of us in Admin. at B.H.
JUNE: [nonplussed] Oh. Thanks. Extremely decent of you. I—appreciate the thought. [To XENIA] Would you be an angel, Madame, and put them in water? [She hands the bouquet in front of MERCY to XENIA] Oh, I’m terribly sorry: do you know each other? This is Madame Xenia—Mrs. Mercy Croft. [XENIA throws the bouquet into the armchair R then bears down on MERCY]
XENIA: What? The Mrs. Mercy? [She embraces MERCY]
JUNE: Of course. Didn’t you know?
XENIA: [to MERCY] But I love you, my dear. [She holds MERCY at arm’s length for a few moments then again embraces her] I adore you.
MERCY: [clamped in the embrace] Have I had the pleasure...?
XENIA: [releasing her] You don’t know me from Adam, my darling, but for twenty years I have listened to you—every single week.
JUNE: How nice. [She picks up the bottle of champagne, goes to the sideboard and pours herself a glass of champagne]
MERCY: [overlapping] Charming! [JUNE drinks]
XENIA: [quite overcome] I am—I cannot tell you—your advice is a hundred per cent. A hundred and twenty per cent. One senses—you have a heart, you have suffered...
MERCY: Well, we all have our ups and downs.
XENIA: But you have had more downs than ups. [She pauses briefly] Am I right?
MERCY: I shouldn’t like... [She retreats above the sofa and puts her handbag and gloves on the table behind the sofa]
XENIA: Of course I am. I knew at once. Ask George here. [She moves up C. To JUNE] Am I ever wrong?
JUNE: Never. She is quite infallible. You see, Madame Xenia is a clairvoyant. XENIA: A psychometrist.
JUNE: Oh, sorry. [She sits L of the table and reads the notes on the pad]
XENIA: [moving to L of MERCY] I write a syndicated column every week: star forecasts—hack work, but what the hell, one’s got to live.
MERCY: [moving R to avoid XENIA] I’m afraid I don’t really believe in that kind of...
XENIA: [pointing at MERCY; quickly] Be careful what you do on the tenth. [MERCY pauses R of the sofa]
There’s treachery around you. [She moves to L of MERCY] Don’t sign any important document before full moon.
MERCY: [moving to the fireplace] I’m obliged to you, but really...
XENIA: [following MERCY and pointing at her] There’s news from abroad...
MERCY: [crossing to C; to JUNE] I thought you’d be all alone this morning. That’s why I came.
JUNE: Very kind of you. [XENIA crosses to R of MERCY and taps her on the shoulder]
XENIA: You’re inclined to suffer from digestive disorders. Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious. [MERCY turns to JUNE]
JUNE: [apologetically] Madame is helping me out today.
XENIA: [tapping MERCY’S shoulder] A tall man doesn’t like you. Avoid him.
MERCY: It would be somewhat difficult in my job to...
XENIA: An old association will be broken. Never mind: there are plenty of birds in the sky.
MERCY: [icily] I think you mean fish in the sea.
XENIA: [to herself] Interesting. [She crosses to the armchair R and picks up the bouquet] Must be born under Pisces. [Cheerfully] Oh, well, I’ll get some water for the flowers. [XENIA exits through the arch R]
JUNE: She’s been marvellous today: done all the organizing.
MERCY: Isn’t your friend—er—Miss...?
JUNE: Miss McNaught? She’s not up yet. I’m afraid she’s no good at times like these. No backbone. Ballast.
MERCY: [wandering up C and inspecting the flowers] What beautiful tributes. May I read some? I adore inscriptions.
JUNE: There’s a whole lot more in the bathroom. As soon as Childie’s dressed she can take them all and dump them on the Cenotaph.
MERCY: But you can’t do that. They’re for you. [She moves down C. Seriously] Do you know the entire Applehurst company turned up for the recording today in black? It was quite spontaneous.
JUNE: [annoyed] They must be bonkers. I can just see old Mrs. Hinch. She must have looked like ‘Keep Death Off the Roads’. [She sees MERCY’s black suit] Oh, I do beg your pardon.
MERCY: We felt we couldn’t let her go without some mark of respect. After all, she has been with us for—how long?
JUNE: [looking away; with assumed toughness] Six perishing years.
MERCY: Oh, come now—you know you enjoyed every minute of it.
JUNE: [getting exasperated] Yes, but it’s over—I just want to forget it.
MERCY: I don’t think your public will let you. [She moves to R of the sofa and indicates the wreats] You can see how much you meant to them.
[She moves above the sofa]
[JUNE, trying to escape, rises, removes her hat and puts it on the table LC]
JUNE: Actually, I was just on the point of changing.
MERCY: For the funeral?
JUNE: For the broadcast. [XENIA enters through the arch, blandishing a large, hideous, ornate vase Which bears MERCY’s flowers]
XENIA: [crossing to R of the table LC] All right?
JUNE: [sitting in the chair L of the table LC] Wasn’t there something a little more—conservative?
XENIA: I can put them in a milk bottle, if you like. Or perhaps you’d prefer a bottle of gin? [She moves up C and puts the vase on the radio shelf. Piqued] It is good to have one’s hard work appreciated. Getting up early in the morning...
JUNE: [interrupting and overlapping] Madame Xenia—I’m eternally grateful. You’ve been a brick.
XENIA: Yes, so I’ve been told before.
MERCY: [picking up a bouquet from the table behind the sofa] What a charming message. [She reads]
‘Ever-present, spirit-like
Harken! The familiar sound:
Sister George, astride her bike,
In the happy hunting-ground.’ [JUNE mutters under her breath]
XENIA: [moving down RC] Well, happy hunting, Sister George.
JUNE: You’re off, then, are you, dear?
XENIA: I’m afraid my client is waiting. The moment you need me, just stamp on the floor. [She moves to the arch R]
JUNE: I shall be absolutely all right. [Suddenly] I say. [XENIA stops and turns]
If any more flowers come, shove them in the coal-shed. [MERCY moves to R of the banister and picks up a wreath]
XENIA: Leave everything to me. I am your friend.
MERCY: [reading the label on the wreath] ‘Fare thee well. Go in peace, good woman.’
XENIA: I can take a hint. [XENIA, her nose in the air, strides out through the arch]
JUNE: [blowing a kiss after XENIA] Thank you, darling.
MERCY: [moving down C] You do have a lot of friends, don’t you?
JUNE: I hope so. I like to think...
MERCY: [moving to R of the table LC] Loneliness is the great scourge of our time.
JUNE: Too true.
MERCY: I had visions of you, sitting by your set, alone with your grief.
JUNE: With Miss McNaught, actually, but it comes to the same thing. [She laughs]
MERCY: Frankly, I’m amazed you’re taking it like this.
JUNE: Like what?
MERCY: So calmly. [She sits R of the table LC] Cheerfully.
JUNE: The uncertainty was the worst. Once that was over...
MERCY: You have a very strong character. [She pauses] Will you go on listening to the programme now?
JUNE: I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought. Probably not. I mean—it might be rather—distressing—you know, hearing all the old voices going on without me.
MERCY: Isn’t that rather a selfish attitude to take?
JUNE: Selfish?
MERCY: You died to save the series—surely you’ll want to take an interest in its fortunes?
JUNE: Well...
MERCY: I think the next few episodes will be particularly fascinating. [She warms to the subject] Your death means an enormous re-adjustment to the whole community. It will take them weeks, even months, to get over the shock. But eventually the gap must be filled; new leaders will arise...
JUNE: Leaders? What new leaders? Who?
MERCY: [confidentially] Well, it’s not really ready for release yet, but between you and me—I believe Ginger...
JUNE: [rising; horrified] Ginger? [In her country accent] He couldn’t lead a cow down Buttercup Hill, couldn’t Ginger. [She crosses above the table to R of MERCY] He’s weak. Weak as the rotten apples that fall off a tree.
MERCY: Ginger will be our new anti-hero.
JUNE: [turning to face MERCY] An anti-hero in Applehurst?
MERCY: Contemporary appeal, Sister George. Applehurst is facing up to the fact that the old values have become outdated.
JUNE: [crossing to the armchair R and sitting] I wonder how old Mrs. Hinch is going to take that.
MERCY: [quickly] Not very well, I’m afraid. She passes away.
JUNE: [aghast] What?
MERCY: It’s due the second week in December.
JUNE: How?
MERCY: It’ll be a cold winter in Applehurst. She gets up in the middle of the night to let the cat in.
JUNE: And...
MERCY: Bronchitis. Gone in two days.
JUNE: [rising and crossing to MERCY; angrily] But you can’t do this—after all the care I’ve taken of that woman. Why, I’ve nursed her from gout to gastro-enteritis over the last six years.
MERCY: That’s neither here nor there.
JUNE: I could have saved her—[she moves to the fireplace] just like old Mr. Burns last winter. He’s three years older, and—[she turns to face MERCY] look at him now, fit as a fiddle. At least he was...
MERCY: I’m afraid he’s due for a stroke next Friday.
JUNE: [moving to R of MERCY] But why this carnage, why all this slaughter?
MERCY: [rising and facing June] We live in a violent world, Miss Buckridge, surrounded by death and destruction. It’s the policy of the B.B.C. to face up to reality.
JUNE: Who’s going to look after the—survivors?
MERCY: Nurse Lawrence.
JUNE: What!
MERCY: Yes, she arrives from the District Hospital tomorrow to take over from you. [She moves down L]
JUNE: But she’s a probationer. She couldn’t put a dressing on a—salad. [She moves R] They won’t stand for that, you know.
MERCY: On the contrary, Nurse Lawrence wins the trust and affection of the village, and becomes known, rather charmingly, I think, as ‘Sister Larry’.
JUNE: Sister Larry! You’re going to make this ill-bred, uneducated little slut...
MERCY: [moving RC; shouting] Contemporary appeal, Sister George. People like that do exist—and in positions of power and influence: flawed, credible characters like Ginger, Nurse Lawrence, Rosie...
JUNE: [squaring up to MERCY] What about Rosie?
MERCY: She’s pregnant.
JUNE: I know that. And as she’s not married, either, that’s about as flawed and credible as you can get.
MERCY: She’s going to marry her boy friend—Lennie.
JUNE: Oh, good. Good. [She moves to the armchair R] I’m glad. I’m glad about that—glad. [She sits]
[There is a pause]
MERCY: [sitting on the sofa] Mind you, it’s not his baby.
JUNE: Eh?
MERCY: It’s Roy’s, from the army camp at Oakmead. She tells Lennie, makes a full confession; he forgives her, and they live happily ever after.
JUNE: [leaning over the arm of the chair] Pardon me while I vomit. [ALICE enters from the bedroom. She is wearing a gaily coloured dress]
ALICE: [moving R of the table LC] Oh, hello.
MERCY: [cordially] Hello, dear. I was wondering where you were.
ALICE: I didn’t go to work today.
MERCY: No, of course not.
ALICE: [sweetly] Can I make you a cup of tea, Mrs. Mercy?
MERCY: I’d adore a cup of tea. [She rises, goes to the table behind the sofa, takes a mirror from her handbag and looks in it]
[ALICE opens the hatch]
JUNE: [bitterly] Mrs. Mercy’s come over with the charming news that I’m to be replaced by Nurse Lawrence.
ALICE: [picking up the tea tray] Nurse Lawrence—Nurse Lawrence? Do I know her?
JUNE: Don’t be irritating. Of course you know her. That interfering busybody from Oakmead.
ALICE: [with indifference] Oh, her. [She puts the tea tray through the hatch]
JUNE: Yes, her.
ALICE: Anyway, it’s not really your concern any more what happens in Applehurst. You’re out of it. [She moves to the table LC and tidies the telegrams]
JUNE: [rising and crossing to R of the table LC] Can’t you understand? Can’t you understand anything? I built it up: I made it what it is. It’s not nice to see one’s life work ruined. [ALICE moves to the sideboard and tidies up]
MERCY: moving to the fireplace] I have got one piece of cheering news for you, if you can bear to hear it.
JUNE: I can bear it. [She sits R of the table LC] Pour me out a glass of gin, Childie, while you’re over at the sideboard. [ALICE pours a gin, hands it to JUNE and stands L of the table with the bottle in her hand]
[She drinks] You were saying, Mrs. Mercy?
MERCY: It concerns your future.
JUNE: [puttying down her glass, rising and crossing to MERCY] My future, yes. You are quite right: we must talk of the future. Is there still time?
MERCY: There’s still nearly an hour to go.
JUNE: Did you want to stay for the—the... ?
MERCY: Broadcast?
JUNE: The funeral. Yes.
MERCY: No, I have to get back to B.H. We’re having a little party, you know. Perhaps ‘party’ isn’t quite the right word.
JUNE: A wake?
MERCY: I suppose one could call it that. That’s why—[she leads JUNE down R] I want a quick word with you, Miss Buckridge. Mrs. Coote has promised to come. You know Mrs. Coote, don’t you? She’s in charge of Toddler Time.
JUNE: Yes, of course I know her: a charming woman.
MERCY: Well, dear, she’s very anxious to have you. JUNE: Really? [MERCY moves the chair down R near to the pouffe and sits. JUNE sits on the pouffe, facing MERCY]
MERCY: What I’m telling you now is strictly off the cuff. Everything’s still in the planning stage. I thought I’d nip over and tell you that there’s a ray of sunshine on the horizon.
JUNE: I’m all ears. [ALICE puts the bottle on the table, exits to the kitchen and removes the tray from the hatch]
MERCY: [confidentially] Well, dear, as you probably know, Toddler Time has been—what shall we say—a wee bit disappointing. Audience research figures—this is strictly entre nous, you understand—
JUNE: Yes, yes, of course.
MERCY:—show a slight, but perceptible slide. Mrs. Coote, I may tell you, is worried out of her mind. She hasn’t slept a wink for three weeks.
JUNE: [looking away] Poor love.
MERCY: The script-writers are running round in circles—one of them’s had a nervous breakdown: the one who wrote the series about Tiddlywink, the Cockerel, which, as you know, was withdrawn after only three installments. Anyway, to cut a long story short, there’s been some agonizing reappraisal over Toddler Time. A completely new approach has been decided on.
JUNE: Don’t tell me—marauding gollywogs, drunk teddy bears, and pregnant bunnies. [ALICE enters from the kitchen with a tray of tea for one which she puts on the table LC]
MERCY: [smiling enigmatically] Not quite, dear. [ALICE sits L of the table LC]
But we’re preparing an absolutely super new adventure series, in which we’ve all got loads of confidence, which will combine exciting narrative with a modern outlook—and you’re being considered for the title role.
JUNE: What’s it called?
MERCY: ‘The World of Clarabelle Cow.’ [There is a pause. JUNE rises and moves C]
JUNE. Am I to understand that this—this character is a cow?
MERCY: A very human one, I assure you: full of little foibles and prejudices.
JUNE: [slowly] A—flawed—credible—cow?
MERCY: Credible in human terms, certainly. Otherwise the children wouldn’t believe in her. Children are very discerning.
ALICE: Ought to be fun.
JUNE: [moving to L of the sofa] I don’t think I could have understood you correctly. I don’t believe I really grasped the meaning of your words.
MERCY: I thought I made myself perfectly clear.
ALICE: Oh, don’t be dense, George.
JUNE: [to ALICE] Shut up! [She moves to R of the table LC and turns to MERCY] Am I to take it that you have come here today—the day of the funeral of Sister George—to offer me the part of a cow?
MERCY: We must be practical, dear. None of us can afford to be out of work for too long.
JUNE: Pour me out another gin, Childie, will you? [ALICE refills JUNE’s glass]
[To MERCY] You’re not serious, are you? You’re joking, aren’t you?
MERCY: [rising] We don’t joke about these things at the B.B.C., Miss Buckridge.
ALICE: [rising] It’s jolly nice of Mrs. Mercy to come over specially to tell you. [She moves up C]
MERCY: [crossing to R of JUNE] I thought it was a brilliant idea of Mrs. Coote’s.
JUNE: [shouting and tearing her hair] I can’t stand it! [She crosses to the window] I’m going mad! [XENIA enters through the arch R carrying a cross of white chrysanthemums]
XENIA: One more for luck.
JUNE: [tonelessly] Who from?
XENIA: [reading the inscription] ‘I never thought I’d survive you. Mrs. Ethel Hinch.’
MERCY: She doesn’t know yet.
JUNE: [crossing to XENIA; distracted] She’s going to die, Madame Xenia—in two months’ time. They’re going to murder her, too. An old lady of eighty-five, who’s never done anyone the slightest harm. [MERCY moves below the table LC]
XENIA: How terrible! [She puts the cross in the chair RC] Are you sure?
JUNE: [to MERCY; wildly] Murderess! [JUNE lunges at MERCY. ALICE and XENIA move quickly to JUNE and restrain her. XENIA grabs JUNE by her right arm and shoulder and ALICE grabs JUNE’s left arm]
ALICE: George! MERCY: Really, Miss Buckridge. Restrain yourself.
JUNE: Is your blood lust sated? How many other victims are you going to claim?
MERCY: [shrilly] Control yourself!
ALICE: George, you’re drunk!
XENIA: My darling is upset. She’s had a shock. [JUNE throws off the constraining arms and moves slowly to MERCY, making a great effort to control herself. ALICE stands C. XENIA is RC. MERCY, a little frightened, is below the table LC]
JUNE: [after a pause] With reference to Toddler Time, would you thank Mrs. Coote for her kind interest—
MERCY: There’s no need for you to decide today.
JUNE:—and tell her I cannot possibly accept the part in question.
MERCY: Very well. I’ll tell her. [The buzzer R sounds. XENIA goes to the speaker, pulls it out and listens]
ALICE: [moving to R of JUNE] Don’t be silly, George. You can’t afford to turn down...
JUNE: I’m not playing the part of a cow.
XENIA: A cow? What cow?
JUNE: [frantically] I’m not playing the part of a cow!
MERCY: I’ve taken your point, Miss Buckridge.
XENIA: [turning to JUNE] There are two nuns, to see Sister George.
JUNE: No! No! [JUNE, groaning, with dismay, rushes off up L]
XENIA: [to MERCY] Nuns before noon is a good omen.
MERCY: [moving C] I’ll take your word for it.
ALICE: [moving up L] I’d better see what she’s doing. |ALICE exits up L]
[Off calling] George: what are you doing? [MERCY moves up C. The sound of running bath water is heard off L]
XENIA: [into the speaker] I’m sorry, Sister George is getting ready for her funeral. [She pushes the speaker back to the wall]
[ALICE enters up L]
ALICE: She appears to be running a bath.
XENIA: [moving RC] Shall I go and speak to her?
MERCY: She won’t do anything silly, will she?
XENIA: [to ALICE] See if she’s all right. [ALICE exits up L]
[She sits on the sofa] I’m so worried.
MERCY: [moving above the sofa] There was bound to be a reaction. [She moves R of the sofas]
ALICE: [off; calling] George! [She pauses] I can’t hear what you’re saying. Turn the bloody taps off!
JUNE: [calling] Leave me alone!
XENIA: Oi, oi, oi! [The sound of the water ceases.
ALICE enters up L]
ALICE: [as she enters] Says she wants to be left alone. [MERCY moves to the fireplace]
XENIA: How did she sound?
ALICE: Like a walrus.
XENIA: Thank God she is herself again. [She rises and moves to the arch R] Oi, oi, what a morning! [XENIA exits through the arch. There is a pause. MERCY, at the fireplace and ALICE up L, face each other for a few moments, then MERCY extends her arms. ALICE runs into MERCY’s arms, lays her head on MERCY’s shoulder and bursts into tears. MERCY gently puts her arms around ALICE ]
MERCY: My poor child. There, there.
ALICE: I can’t stand it any more.
MERCY: I know, I know. You’ve been under a terrible strain.
ALICE: [breaking from MERCY] You’ve no idea, Mrs. Mercy.
MERCY: I can imagine.
ALICE: She’s been terrible!
MERCY: Hush, dear. She’ll hear you. [She leads ALICE to the sofa]
[ALICE sits on the sofa. MERCY sits R of Alice]
ALICE: I was praying you’d come.
MERCY: I wasn’t going to leave you alone with her today. [She similes] Besides—I had promised.
ALICE: Oh, I know, but I knew how busy you were.
MERCY: First things first.
ALICE: I knew I could rely on you. I felt it the first time I met you.
MERCY: And I felt I was speaking to a proud and sensitive person, whose personality was being systematically crushed.
ALICE: [turning away] Don’t!
MERCY: And with a definite literary talent. ALICE: [turning] Honestly? Do you really think so?
MERCY: I’m being quite objective.
ALICE: Gosh! Wouldn’t it be marvellous!
MERCY: What, dear?
ALICE: If I could do some work for you—writing, I mean.
MERCY: We shall see what transpires. I’ll certainly give you all the help I can.
ALICE: Oh, you are nice.
MERCY: And the other offer still stands.
ALICE: [looking away] Yes, well—I think I’ve almost definitely decided. I’m sorry to be so vague.
MERCY: [after a pause] Not at all. [She rises and moves up R of the sofa]
ALICE: It’s a bit of a wrench, you know. I’ve been working for Mr. Katz for nearly four years. I’d have to give him a month’s notice.
MERCY: [moving above the sofa] There’s no rush. I told you I’d keep the job open for a fortnight.
ALICE: And then there’s George.
MERCY: [with a glance up L] Yes.
ALICE: I mean: I don’t know how she’d take it.
MERCY: [moving to L of the sofa] You have told her, of course?
ALICE: God, no! She’d have murdered me. [MERCY crosses to the table LC, stands with her back to the audience and pours a cup of tea]
MERCY: In view of what happened today, I think we were very wise.
ALICE: If she suspected I’d been to see you behind her back ...
MERCY: There was no reason why you shouldn’t. You’re perfectly entitled ...
ALICE: Oh, I know. But she’s so possessive. I’m never allowed anywhere near the B.B.C. I’m kept a guilty secret.
MERCY: She’s shackled you to her. [She sits R of the table LC] Anyway, you wouldn’t be working for the B.B.C. You’d be working for me as my own private secretary, in my London flat.
ALICE: [rising and crossing to R of MERCY] It sounds absolutely super. I’m sorry I’m being so slow about making up my mind.
MERCY: A thought has just occurred to me: if you’re in any kind of trouble—you know, with George—you can always camp down at the flat. There’s a divan ...
ALICE: Oh, that’d be wonderful!
MERCY: It could serve as your temporary H.Q. It’s not luxurious, mind. [She drinks her tea]
ALICE: Never mind that. It would be an escape—if necessary.
MERCY: That’s what I thought. I only ever stay there myself if I’ve been kept late at a story conference, or something like that. I find it useful. I suppose it’s a place for me to escape, too.
ALICE: [after a pause] We’d be like prisoners on the run. [There is a pause. MERCY drinks then puts down her cup]
MERCY: Do you really think you can escape?
ALICE: [after a pause] I don’t know. [She moves up C and glances off L]
MERCY: It’s very difficult for you.
ALICE: [moving up R] It’s been so long, so many years. [She picks up Emmeline from the table behind the sofa]
MERCY: It’s hard to break the routine.
ALICE: It’s the little things one misses most.
MERCY: [smiling] You could bring your dolls.
ALICE: [moving to the armchair R and hugging Emmeline] I couldn’t go anywhere without them. I even take them on holiday—and then I’m terrified they’ll get lost or stolen. Sometimes George hides them—it’s her idea of a joke.
MERCY: A very cruel joke. [ALICE, still holding the doll, runs to MERCY and kneels R of her]
ALICE: Don’t let her get at me, Mrs. Mercy. Stay here—don’t go away. [She clutches MERCY’S knees]
MERCY: I can’t stay here all day, dear.
ALICE: Please don’t leave me. I’m terrified of what she will do.
MERCY: Calm yourself, Alice. No one’s going to hurt you. Here, put your head on my shoulder. [ALICE lays her head on MERCY’S shoulder]
Close your eyes. Relax. My goodness, you’re trembling like a leaf. [She strokes ALICE’S hair]
ALICE: [with her eyes shut] That’s nice.
MERCY: You’re my little girl. You’re going to be—my little girl. [JUNE enters up L. She is wearing her bath robe]
JUNE: What a touching sight.
ALICE: George! [Panic-stricken, she rises, runs R and shrinks against the armchair]
[JUNE crosses to ALICE, snatches the doll from her and turns to MERCY]
JUNE: I always did say she had nice hair. I always said that for her.
ALICE: George, you don’t understand.
JUNE: [to the doll] Did you hear what your mummy said, Emmeline? She said I don’t understand. Did you see what your mummy was doing with that strange lady?
MERCY: She was overwrought, Miss Buckridge. [She rises] I tried to comfort her. [ALICE edges down R]
JUNE: How absolutely sweet of you. And how well you have succeeded. [ALICE is trembling from head to toe]
MERCY: I hope you don’t think...
JUNE: [to ALICE; sweetly] Come here, I want to talk to you. Come on, I want to talk to you. [ALICE looks terrified]
Don’t be fright, I’m not going to hurt you.
ALICE: Why can’t you tell me in front of Mrs. Mercy?
JUNE: [feigning gaucheness] Well, you know, boy’s talk...
MERCY: Would you rather I left?
JUNE: [turning to MERCY] Oh, no, no. Whatever could have given you that idea? [She moves to ALICE and grabs her arm] Come here, I want to whisper to you. [She whispers to ALICE]
ALICE: [breaking from JUNE; shouting] No! [JUNE grabs ALICE again and whispers to her]
No, I’m not going to do it. [She runs down L]
JUNE: [slapping the doll on her thigh to punctuate her line] Yes or no, Childie? Yes or no?
ALICE: [frantically] No, no, no!
MERCY: [white with indignation] What are you asking her to do, Sister George?
JUNE: The suitable treatment. The punishment that fits the crime.
ALICE: She wants me to drink her bath water.
MERCY: [astounded] Her bath water?
ALICE: To humiliate me.
MERCY: But this is preposterous! I’ve never heard of such an obscene suggestion.
JUNE: [moving to R of MERCY] You’re shut off from the world, Mrs. Mercy. ‘Ask Mrs Mercy—all your problems answered.’ ‘Dear Mrs. Mercy, what shall I do? My flat-mate is nasty to me and wants to punish me by making me drink her bath water. By the time you reply to this—glug, glug, glug—it may be too late—glug—and I might have drowned.’
MERCY: [to ALICE] I strongly advise you to leave this house at once.
JUNE: [to ALICE] Well, you’ve had the benefit of Mrs. Mercy’s expert advice. Are you going to take it?
ALICE: I’m sorry, George, I can’t stay with you any longer.
MERCY: Very sensible.
JUNE: [crossing below MERCY to R of ALICE] Did you hear what your mummy said, Emmeline? She said she’s going to leave us. [She raises the doll over her head as if to hit ALICE]
MERCY: I wish you wouldn’t...
JUNE: [dangerously] You keep out of this. This is between Alice and myself.
ALICE: [pleading] Let me have Emmeline.
JUNE: [pointing the doll at ALICE] Glug, glug to you.
MERCY: I don’t know how you can be so cruel. The poor child...
JUNE: [moving above the table LC] ‘The poor child’! As you’re going to see quite a lot of ‘the poor child’ in the near future, I’d better put you in the picture about her.
ALICE: George, don’t! George, please!
JUNE: ‘The poor child’ likes to pretend she’s a baby, but have a look at her; go on, have a close. look at her. [ALICE bursts into tears and sinks on to the chair down L]
MERCY: [crossing quickly to ALICE] Can’t you see you’re upsetting the child. [She puts her arm protectively around ALICE]
JUNE: [shouting] The child? The child is a woman—she’s thirty-four. [ALICE sobs loudly]
She’s old enough to have a grandchild.
MERCY: Oh, really, now you’re exaggerating.
JUNE: [to ALICE] Am I? Am I?
ALICE: [whimpering] Don’t, George—don’t.
JUNE: [moving down C; with disgust] Look at you: whimpering and pleading. Have you no backbone, can’t you stand up like a man?
ALICE: [sobbing] I can’t—help it.
JUNE: [imitating her savagely] ‘I can’t help it.’ She’ll never be any different—feckless, self-indulgent. [She throws the doll on to the sofa and moves up C]
ALICE: [jumping up and running towards the bedroom door] I’m going. I’m packing my bag. [JUNE intercepts ALICE, grabs her by the arm and drags her C]
JUNE: Come back here.
MERCY: Let her go. Let her go.
JUNE: [to MERCY] You’ve got yourself a prize packet there, and no mistake.
ALICE: [screaming] Let me go! [She wrenches herself free and collapses on the floor down C, weeping]
JUNE: [after a pause; looking down at ALICE] She had an illegitimate child when she was eighteen. [ALICE weakly covers her ears]
She gave it away—to strangers. She’s got a daughter of sixteen. [ALICE sobs]
Do what you like—you make me sick. [She sits R of the table, takes a drink of gin and remains sitting, not looking at the others, until the end of the scene]
[There is a pause. ALICE cries despairingly. MERCY moves to L of ALICE and looks down at her]
MERCY: Stop crying. [ALICE’S sobs subside]
Get up, quickly. [ALICE rises and stands R of MERCY, her head down]
Go and pack. You needn’t take everything now. Go along, hurry. I’ll wait for you here. [ALICE exits to the bedroom]
[She turns to JUNE] I’m sorry, Miss Buckridge, about all this. It’ll be all for the best, you’ll see. I do hope you’re not bearing me any grudge. [JUNE shakes her head]
Oh, good, good. Sometimes it’s best to make a clean break—it’s painful, but that’s the advice I always give in my programme. Which reminds me—[she looks at her watch] it’s about time for the broadcast. Shall I switch it on? [She moves to the radiogram and switches it on, then collects her handbag and gloves and puts her gloves on] Let it give you strength, Miss Buckridge. Remember: Sister George was killed, not because she was hated, but because she was loved. [ALICE enters from the bedroom. She carries a mackintosh and a small suitcase]
[She moves to R of JUNE] If you study anthropology, you’ll discover that in primitive societies it was always the best-loved member of the community who was selected as the sacrificial victim. They felt that by killing him the goodness and strength of the victim would pass into them. It was both a purge and a re-dedication. What you are about to hear is the purge and—
[The slow tolling of a bell sounds softly from the radio]
—re-dedication of Applehurst. Good-bye, Sister George. [She crosses to the arch R and looks back]
[ALICE crosses to the sofa, picks up the doll Emmeline, moves to R of the sofa, hesitates and looks back at JUNE]
ALICE: I think she’s right in what she said, George—Mrs. Mercy, I mean. I love you, too, that’s why I’ve got to leave you. You do understand, don’t you? I mean ... [She weeps and looks almost impatiently at MERCY] All right, Mrs. Mercy, I’m coming. [MERCY exits through the arch R] Good-bye, George, and—you know—thanks for everything. [ALICE exits through the arch R. JUNE, who has not looked up, remains sitting R of the table. An ANNOUNCER’s voice is heard from the radio, backed up by the tolling bell]
ANNOUNCER: [through the radio] Applehurst, a chronicle of an English village. This is a sad day for Applehurst. The church bell is tolling for the funeral of Sister George, the well-beloved District Nurse, whose forthright, practical no-nonsense manner had endeared her to the community, but death—[Very soft music, a slow and minor variation on the ‘Applehurst Theme’ is heard over the ANNOUNCER’s voice and continues softly to the end of the scene]
—comes to the best of us, and the picturesque village of Applehurst is today swathed in mourning.
JUNE: [a very plaintive sound] Moo! [Louder] Moo! Moo! [A heartrending sound]
The music increases in volume as—
the CURTAIN falls