Mediterranean Nights (31 page)

R
OBERT
: It's for you, Mother. Mrs. Snelling wants to speak to you.

M
OTHER
: All right, dear. I'm coming. (
Exit.)

F
ATHER
: My tea, please.

W
ENDY
(
returning to table
): Which one is it—oh, this looks the weakest. (
Picks up cup and takes it to
F
ATHER
.)

[R
OBERT
follows her movements anxiously with his eyes as he carries over the sugar
.]

F
ATHER
(
takes cup and helps himself to four lumps of sugar
): Thank you. (
Begins to munch jam sandwich slowly.)

W
ENDY
(
handing another cup to
R
OBERT
): Here's yours, Robert.

R
OBERT
(
looking at it dubiously
): Er—thanks. (
They sit down to table. Re-enter
M
OTHER
.)

M
OTHER
: Mrs. Snelling wants us all to go over to cold supper tomorrow night.

F
ATHER
: I hope that you have not accepted.

M
OTHER
: Well, dear, I did. You know you like Mr. Snelling, Albert.

F
ATHER
: You have forgotten that I wish to speak to Wendy after church.

W
ENDY
: Oh, Father, can't you do it tonight, and get it over?

F
ATHER
: This is not a matter which can be ‘got over.' I wish for time to consider how best to deal with your outrageous behaviour.

M
OTHER
: All right, dear. I'll put Mrs. Snelling off.

W
ENDY
(
handing bread-and-butter
): Robert?

R
OBERT
: No, thanks. I don't want any.

M
OTHER
: Well, drink up your tea, dear. It will get cold.

R
OBERT
(
tasting tea gingerly
): I don't think I like it. It tastes rather queer.

M
OTHER
: Nonsense, dear. It's a little different, but it's a new kind I'm trying. The manager at Salisbury's gave me a free sample.

F
ATHER
: I thought it different, but it is very good.

W
ENDY
: I don't like it as much as the one we always have.

R
OBERT
(
setting cup down
): I don't like it at all.

M
OTHER
: Don't be silly, Robert. I think it's very nice. I like the rather unusual flavour.

R
OBERT
: I don't think I will finish mine.

F
ATHER
: Robert, you will finish your tea at once.

R
OBERT
: But, Father, I don't really feel like tea today.

F
ATHER
: I cannot sit here and see things that I have paid for wasted.

R
OBERT
: Mother said it was a free sample.

F
ATHER
: You heard what I said.

R
OBERT
(
reluctantly
): All right, Father. (
Slowly drinks tea in little gulps)

F
ATHER
(
rising
): If you are ready, my dear, we will walk round to Mr. and Mrs. Briggs'.

M
OTHER
(
hastily bolting her tea and stuffing the remains of a piece of bread-and-butter into her mouth
): Yes, Albert.

F
ATHER
(
to
W
ENDY
and
R
OBERT
): Neither of you will leave the house this evening—I am greatly displeased with you both.

[
Exit
F
ATHER
and
M
OTHER
.]

R
OBERT
(
angrily
): Can you beat it—and I was going to the dirt track with Reggie Turner.

W
ENDY
(
miserably
): I know—and Charles was going to take me to the pictures. I suppose he won't even be allowed in the house any more after this.

R
OBERT
: Why, what's he done—and what's the old man wild with you about?

W
ENDY
: Charles brought me a flash of Crème de Menthe, and Father found out.

R
OBERT
: Phew!—drink. My goodness, you'll catch it. I wouldn't be surprised if he turned you out in the street for that.

W
ENDY
: He won't as long as I've got a job. He wouldn't be able to get his fifteen shillings a week out of me if he did.

R
OBERT
: I wonder he didn't have an attack.

W
ENDY
: He very nearly did.

R
OBERT
: Wendy, did you think that tea tasted queer?

W
ENDY
: Yes, I didn't like it a bit.

R
OBERT
: Well, that's a comfort.

W
ENDY
: What on earth do you mean?

R
OBERT
: Oh, nothing—only—well, I'm glad we both felt the same about it.

W
ENDY
: You were an awful fool to say anything. If you had drunk a little when Mother spoke to you, you could have left the rest—she probably wouldn't have noticed.

R
OBERT
(
uneasily
): Yes, I wish I'd done that. (
He walks over to window and
W
ENDY
settles down to read)

R
OBERT
(
suddenly
): How long do you think they'll be at old Briggs'?

W
ENDY
: How should I know? It all depends if the Briggses are at home. Even if they are, Father may come rushing back directly he hears that you've got the push.

R
OBERT
: Good Lord, yes. I'd forgotten about that.

W
ENDY
: I wish I could forget as quickly about the Crème de Menthe.

[R
OBERT
:
paces restlessly up and down. After a minute he comes to a halt in front of
W
ENDY
.]

R
OBERT
: I say, Wendy. Are you feeling all right?

W
ENDY
: Yes, Why?

R
OBERT
: I'm not—I'm feeling rotten.

W
ENDY
: It's an attack of the funk, I expect. I'm sorry I reminded you about old Briggs.

R
OBERT
: No, it's not that.

W
ENDY
: What is it then? You
are
looking white.

R
OBERT
: (
scared
): Am I? Oh, Lord!

W
ENDY
: Have you got a pain?

R
OBERT
: Yes. No, not exactly. I wonder if I'd better make myself sick.

W
ENDY
: Whatever for?

R
OBERT
: I don't know. Perhaps I've eaten something that doesn't agree with me.

W
ENDY
: You couldn't have. You didn't eat anything for tea.

R
OBERT
(
slowly
): No—but—but it might have been the tea.

W
ENDY
: It couldn't be—we all had it.

R
OBERT
: Yes, I know—but…

W
ENDY
: But what?

R
OBERT
: Oh, nothing.

W
ENDY
: Sit down and read your book. If you think of something else it will go off.

R
OBERT
: I can't. You know Father made me burn the blasted thing. Just when I'd got to the part where they were going to pour vitriol over the girl's face, too.

W
ENDY
: Well, start another.

R
OBERT
: Yes, that's an idea. (
Goes to bookcase behind sofa and takes out worn volume.)
Wonder if I can possibly stand dear old
Ouida
again. (
Sits down beside
W
ENDY
on
sofa, flicks over a few pages, then shuts up the book. Remains staring at his feet for a moment, then gets up and goes over to window. Picks up Thyroid bottle and carefully reads label.)

R
OBERT
: ‘One grain equals five grains desiccated.' Now, whatever does that mean? It's not sense.

W
ENDY
(
sententiously
): Children should never play with dangerous drugs or they may do themselves great harm. Little boys have died through being inquisitive about the things in Mother's cupboard.

R
OBERT
: (
savagely, as he bangs down bottle
): Shut up, can't you!

W
ENDY
: Robert!

R
OBERT
: I'm sorry. (
Turns back to window.)

[
A bell rings in the hall
.]

R
OBERT
(
swinging round
): Who's that?

W
ENDY
: I don't know—it's the front door.

R
OBERT
: They can't have got back already.

W
ENDY
: Of course not, and anyway Father would use his key.

R
OBERT
: But if he were taken ill?

W
ENDY
: Why should he be?

R
OBERT
: Oh, I don't know—anyhow, you go.

W
ENDY
: Robert, what is the matter with you today?

R
OBERT
: Nothing—just worried, that's all. (
Exit, reluctantly.)

[
Re-enter
R
OBERT
,
holding letter
.]

R
OBERT
: It was only the post—and a William at that. (
Places letter on bureau and walks to window, begins to whistle.)

W
ENDY
: Feeling all right again?

R
OBERT
(
stopping abruptly
): Yes—that is, no worse, anyhow.

[
The front door-bell rings again
.]

R
OBERT
: Well, that can't be the post. Do you think it's them? Perhaps Father forgot to take his key.

W
ENDY
: What about it if he did? You've got to go through it some time—don't be a coward.

[
The bell rings again
.]

R
OBERT
(
nervously
): You go, Wendy.

W
ENDY
: Why should I? I wish you would let me read in peace.

R
OBERT
: It's your turn. Wendy—please.

W
ENDY
: Oh, all right. (
Exit, taking tea-tray with her)

[R
OBERT
:
picks up the Thyroid bottle again and mops his face with his handkerchief. Then he watches the door, listening intently
.]

[
Enter
C
HARLES
.]

R
OBERT
(
With relief
): Oh, it's you!

C
HARLES
: Yes. I hear there has been a row, and Wendy is not allowed to come out.

R
OBERT
(
quickly
): Yes. Where is she?

C
HARLES
: In the kitchen, I think.

R
OBERT
(
holding up bottle
): Look here. This Thyroid
stuff we were talking about this afternoon. How long does it take to work?

C
HARLES
(
seating himself comfortably on sofa
): It all depends.

R
OBERT
: What on?

C
HARLES
: All sorts of things. The dose. The state of health of the person who takes it. It's a very dangerous drug, and should never be taken except by doctor's orders.

R
OBERT
: Would it—would it kill anybody who hadn't got a heart?

C
HARLES
: It might, if they took enough.

R
OBERT
: Oh, hell!

C
HARLES
: Why, what's the matter? You haven't been experimenting on yourself, have you?

R
OBERT
: Me? No, oh no. I was just thinking out a story about it, and that upsets my plot. What—what are the symptoms if anybody takes an overdose?

C
HARLES
: Headaches, dizziness, generally feeling rotten. Rather as if you were tight.

R
OBERT
(
weakly
): Thanks. (
Sits down quickly.)

[
Enter
W
ENDY
.]

C
HARLES
: It is a shame about tonight.

W
ENDY
: I'm so sorry, dear. Anyhow, there is one good thing. I shan't have to make myself sick on Crème de Menthe. Father pinched the bottle.

R
OBERT
(
looking up
): Why should you have to make yourself sick on it, anyway?

W
ENDY
(
quickly
): Oh, I was only joking.

C
HARLES
(
slowly
): Look here, can't you get that bottle back?

W
ENDY
: Not unless I can find it in the dustbin. I expect that's where Father will put it.

[
The telephone rings
.]

R
OBERT
(
starting
): Who the devil's that?

W
ENDY
: Mr. Briggs, perhaps, to say that Father's had an attack when he told him about your getting the sack.

R
OBERT
(
miserably
): Oh, Wendy, don't. (
Stands irresolute near door.)

W
ENDY
(
standing up
): All right, you needn't worry. I'll go.