Mediterranean Nights (30 page)

C
HARLES
: Good old-fashioned gin.

W
ENDY
: You know I loathe the taste of gin.

C
HARLES
: Yes. That's why I prepared this specially. It is about one-third Crème de Menthe.

W
ENDY
: It sounds horrible.

C
HARLES
: It's not. It's just like a Stinger cocktail, and you know you love Crème de Menthe.

W
ENDY
(
dubiously, taking bottle
): What am I to do with it?

C
HARLES
: Heat it up when you go to bed tonight and add the same quantity of boiling water, then drink it as hot as you can.

W
ENDY
: What! All of it!

C
HARLES
: Yes.

W
ENDY
: I shall be tight.

C
HARLES
: That's just what I want—but it won't matter as you are going straight to bed.

W
ENDY
: Do you really think it will do any good?

C
HARLES
: I can't say for certain, but I hope so.

W
ENDY
: It will only make me sick.

C
HARLES
: Now, darling, do be different. Isn't it worth the risk of being a little ill if there is a chance of getting out of this wretched mess?

W
ENDY
: All right, darling. Kiss me.

[
They embrace and break away as door opens. Enter
F
ATHER
,
holding himself very upright and walking with stiff, jerky steps
.]

W
ENDY
(
nervously, as she slips bottle behind cushions on sofa
): Hullo, Father. You know Charles Willmott, don't you?

F
ATHER
(
stiffly
): Good afternoon.

C
HARLES
(
nervously
): Good afternoon, sir. It's a lovely day, isn't it?

F
ATHER
(
glancing at grey window
): Lovely for people who sell mackintoshes, perhaps.

C
HARLES
: Ha! Ha! Well, yes—I meant if only it would clear up—but I must be getting along.

W
ENDY
: Will you call for me later?

C
HARLES
: Yes, rather. (
Exit with
W
ENDY
.)

[F
ATHER
turns slowly looking round room, he sees chocolates on sofa, walks over, picks up the box and puts one in his mouth. He munches slowly, then takes a handful and slips them in his pocket. Returns box to sofa and walks stiffly to straight-backed chair on left of fire, into which he lowers himself carefully
.]

[
Re-enter
W
ENDY
.]

F
ATHER
: What was that bottle which you were holding when I came in?

W
ENDY
(
laughing nervously
): Oh—er—that was scent.

F
ATHER
: Where did you get it?

W
ENDY
: Charles Willmott gave it to me.

F
ATHER
: You know that I do not approve of your receiving presents from young men.

W
ENDY
: Oh, Father, surely!

F
ATHER
: Bring it to me.

W
ENDY
: But, Father!

F
ATHER
: You heard what I said.

[W
ENDY
produces bottle and with some hesitation walks over and gives it to him. He takes it without a word, pulls out the cork and sniffs at the contents. He then sits up straighter than ever, his eyes round and staring. He looks at her for a full minute without speaking, then:]

F
ATHER
(
very softly
): You have lied to me.

W
ENDY
: No, Father—well—well—yes.

F
ATHER
: You have lied to me.

W
ENDY
(
in a whisper
): Yes, Father.

F
ATHER
: What is in this bottle?

W
ENDY
: Crème de Menthe, Father.

F
ATHER
: Liquor! Liquor in my house. (
He stares at her for another half a minute in silence, then adds
:) You shameless girl! Alcohol! What will your mother say when she learns that her daughter has brought liquor into a God-fearing home?

W
ENDY
(
pleading
): Oh, Father, it's for medicine, really. Charles brought it because I can't sleep at night. Just a little can't do any harm.

F
ATHER
: What! You dare to defend yourself?

W
ENDY
(
desperately
): Why shouldn't I have it? I'm not a child.

F
ATHER
(
standing up with a jerk
): My daughter defies me. (
Suddenly sits down again and leans back with closed eyes—begins to pant
): Fetch—fetch your mother.

[W
ENDY
,
with a little gesture of despair, runs out of room. Re-enters again with
MRS. COTTON,
both running
.]

M
OTHER
(
to
F
ATHER
): What is it, dear? What is it? (
to
W
ENDY
): Oh, you wicked girl. What have you done to bring on one of your father's attacks?

F
ATHER
(
now recovered
): No. By the mercy of Providence I have escaped, but it was near—very near.

M
OTHER
: What has she done? Tell me, Albert?

F
ATHER
: I cannot… I am too ashamed.

M
OTHER
: Tell me, dear, you'll feel better if you do.

F
ATHER
: I cannot—and yet, it is only right that you should know. (
Sighs heavily.)

M
OTHER
: What has she done, dear?

F
ATHER
: How I wish that I could spare you.

M
OTHER
: Don't think of me, Albert.

F
ATHER
(
after an impressive pause
): Our daughter has brought liquor into our home.

M
OTHER
: Wendy!

W
ENDY
: Oh, Mother, it was only a tiny bottle of Crème de Menthe. Charles gave it to me just to take before I go to bed because I'm not sleeping very well.

M
OTHER
: But
alcohol
Wendy! How could you?

W
ENDY
: I'm sorry if I've upset Father, but really it's not as terrible as all that.

F
ATHER
: There! You hear her? Shameless! Shameless! And in a deceitful attempt to hide her wickedness she told me
a deliberate lie. She said that this Devil's Poison was scent.

M
OTHER
: Oh, Wendy!

W
ENDY
: What was I to do?… I knew it would upset Father if I told him the truth.

F
ATHER
: That is no excuse.

[
Enter
R
OBERT
.
They all stare at him in silence. He looks guiltily away, fearing that his own trouble has come to light, and slinks over to the window, where he stands fidgeting nervously. After a moment:]

R
OBERT
(
with sullen defiance
): Oh, well! Say something, somebody.

F
ATHER
: Are you aware, Robert, of what your sister has done?

R
OBERT
: Wendy! No—I thought—well, I was only wondering what you were all looking so glum about.

F
ATHER
(
to
W
ENDY
): Tomorrow will be Sunday. After evening church I will speak to you in my study.

W
ENDY
: Yes, Father.

M
OTHER
(
to
W
ENDY
): Now run and get the tea, dear. It's all ready in the kitchen.

[
Exit
W
ENDY
,
dabbing her eyes
. F
ATHER
puts flask of Crème de Menthe in his pocket
. R
OBERT
goes to sofa and sits down to read his paper-covered thriller
.]

F
ATHER
: Reading again, Robert?

R
OBERT
: Yes, Father.

Father: What an extraordinary boy you are. You have an excellent home and yet you are hardly ever in it, except to read and sleep. When you do honour us with your presence you never deign to enter into conversation with your parents, but sit in a corner reading a book. Really, I think you look upon your home as though it were an hotel.

R
OBERT
: Oh, no, Father.

F
ATHER
: I say that you do. What book are you reading now?

R
OBERT
(
nervously
): Just—er—a book from the library.

F
ATHER
: And who is the author?

R
OBERT
: Well, it's—er—an Edgar Wallace.

F
ATHER
: What! After I have told you that I do not approve of your reading such vile trash.

R
OBERT
: Father—I'm sick of Dickens.

F
ATHER
: That is no excuse. There are others. Thackeray,
Scott, Bulwer-Lytton, Trollope, Meredith, all suitable reading for a boy of your years.

R
OBERT
(
sullenly
): I like something exciting, Father.

F
ATHER
: I will not have you read such pernicious rubbish.

R
OBERT
: Well, I'll get one of the old dry ones, next time.

F
ATHER
: If that is your view of literature, my boy, you need a lesson. Such books as you are reading now are only fit to be burnt. Put that book on the fire.

R
OBERT
(
standing up
): But it's a library book.

F
ATHER
: Do as I tell you.

R
OBERT
: I can't—I'd have to pay for it.

F
ATHER
: I trust the fine will prove a lesson to you.

R
OBERT
: But I've just got to the exciting part. Do let me finish it.

F
ATHER
: You heard what I said.

R
OBERT
(
with sudden hostility
): Why should I?

F
ATHER
(
rising slowly to his feet
): Robert!

M
OTHER
(
quickly, as
W
ENDY
enters with tea-tray
): Robert, how can you? Think of your father's heart.

R
OBERT
(
with a sudden laugh
): Father's heart! All right—I will.

[
Throws the book violently into the fire and walks quickly over to the window
. W
ENDY
sets down tea-tray on table. She and
M
OTHER
lay table. The tray with four cups remains in front of
M
OTHER
,
who is facing the stage, so that cups are hidden from audience
. M
OTHER
pours out tea
. R
OBERT
is fingering the Thyroid bottle in window
.]

F
ATHER
: I think I will go round and see if Mr. Briggs is in, after tea. It is some time since I have seen him.

[R
OBERT
goes tense at window
.]

M
OTHER
: Are you sure that it's not too far for you, dear?

F
ATHER
: A few minutes' walk will do me good.

[R
OBERT
unscrews top of bottle and shakes four or five tabloids into his hand
.]

M
OTHER
: I think I had better come with you, Albert.

F
ATHER
: Yes, that would be best. I shall be interested to hear if Robert is giving satisfaction to his employer.

[R
OBERT
screws on the top of bottle, retaining tabloids in the palm of his hand. He moves to front centre of stage on left of
M
OTHER
and takes cup of tea from her.
He is facing audience, with his
M
OTHER
,
the tea-table, and
W
ENDY
to his immediate left rear, and his
F
ATHER
some distance away in chair by fire at his right rear. The tea-cup is hidden from all three; he shoots tablets of Thyroid into it and is about to take it over to his father when:]

M
OTHER
: Oh, what am I doing. That tea is much too strong for your father. (
Stretches out left hand and takes cup back before
R
OBERT
can do anything. Places cup on tray hidden from audience, and adds water.)

[
The telephone rings in hall
.]

M
OTHER
: See who it is, Robert.

R
OBERT
(
anxiously eyeing cup
): You go, Wendy.

[W
ENDY
is busy spreading jam very thickly on a piece of bread-and-butter
.]

F
ATHER
(
as telephone continues to ring
): You heard your mother. Wendy is making my sandwiches.

R
OBERT
(
with a last glance at cup
): All right, Father. (
Exit quickly.)

W
ENDY
(
taking sandwiches bursting with jam over to her
F
ATHER
): Here you are, Father.

F
ATHER
: Thank you—and my table.

[W
ENDY
places a small table beside him as
R
OBERT
re-enters
.]