The Complete Dramatic Works (32 page)

MR SLOCUM:
May I offer you a lift, Mrs Rooney? Are you going in my direction?

MRS ROONEY:
I am, Mr Slocum, we all are. [
Pause.
]
How is your poor mother?

MR SLOCUM:
Thank you, she is fairly comfortable. We manage to keep her out of pain. That is
the great thing, Mrs Rooney, is it not?

MRS ROONEY:
Yes, indeed, Mr Slocum, that is the great thing, I don’t know how you do it. [
Pause.
She
slaps
her
cheek
violently.
]
Ah these wasps!

MR SLOCUM:
[
Coolly.
] May I then offer you a seat, Madam?

MRS ROONEY:
[
With
exaggerated
enthusiasm.
]
Oh that would be heavenly, Mr Slocum, just simply heavenly. [
Dubiously.
] But would I ever get in, you look very high off the ground today, these new balloon
tyres I presume. [
Sound
of
door
opening
and 
MRS ROONEY
trying
to
get
in.
]
Does this roof never come off? No? [
Efforts
of
MRS ROONEY
.] No …. I’ll never do it … you’ll have to get down, Mr Slocum, and help me from the
rear. [
Pause.
]
What was that? [
Pause.
Aggrieved.
]
This is all your suggestion, Mr Slocum, not mine. Drive on, Sir, drive on.

MR SLOCUM:
[
Switching
off
engine.
]
I’m coming, Mrs Rooney, I’m coming, give me time, I’m as stiff as yourself.

[
Sound
of
 
MR SLOCUM
extracting
himself
from
driver’s
seat.
]

MRS ROONEY:
Stiff! Well I like that! And me heaving all over back and front. [
To
herself
]
The dry old reprobate!

MR SLOCUM:
[
In
position
behind
her.
]
Now, Mrs Rooney, how shall we do this?

MRS ROONEY:
As if I were a bale, Mr Slocum, don’t be afraid, [
Pause.
Sounds
of
effort.
]
That’s the way! [
Effort.
] Lower! [
Effort.
]
Wait! [
Pause.
]
No, don’t let go! [
Pause.
] Suppose I do get up, will I ever get down?

MR SLOCUM:
[
Breathing
hard.
]
You’ll get down, Mrs Rooney, you’ll get down. We may not get you up, but I warrant
you we’ll get you down.

[
He
resumes
his
efforts.
Sound
of
these.
]

MRS ROONEY:
Oh! … Lower! … Don’t be afraid! … We’re past the age when…. There! … Now! … Get your
shoulder under it …. Oh! … [
Giggles.
]
Oh glory! … Up! Up! … Ah! … I’m in! [
Panting
of
 
MR SLOCUM
.
He
slams
the
door. 
In
a
scream.
]
My frock! You’ve nipped my frock! [
MR SLOCUM
opens
the
door.
MRS ROONEY
frees
her
frock.
 
MR SLOCUM
slams
the
door.
His
violent
unin
telligible
muttering
as
he
walks
round
to
the
other
door.
Tearfully.
]
My nice frock! Look what you’ve done to my nice frock! [
MR SLOCUM
gets
into
his
seat,
slams
driver’s
door,
presses
starter.
The
engine
does
not
start.
He
releases
starter.
]
What will Dan say when he sees me?

MR SLOCUM:
Has he then recovered his sight?

MRS ROONEY:
No, I mean when he knows, what will he say when he feels the hole? [
MR SLOCUM
presses
starter.
As
before.
Silence.
]
What are you doing, Mr Slocum?

MR SLOCUM:
Gazing straight before me, Mrs Rooney, through the windscreen, into the void.

MRS ROONEY:
Start her up, I beseech you, and let us be off. This is awful!

MR SLOCUM:
[
Dreamily.
]
All morning she went like a dream and now she is dead. That is what you get for a
good deed. [
Pause.
Hopefully.
]
Perhaps if I were to choke her. [
He
does
so,
presses
the
starter.
The
engine
roars.
Roaring
to
make
himself
heard.
]
She was getting too much air! [
He
throttles
down,
grinds
in
his
first
gear,
moves
off,
changes
up
in
a
grinding
of
gears.
]

MRS ROONEY:
[
In
anguish.
]
Mind the hen! [
Scream
of
brakes.
Squawk
of
hen.
]
Oh, mother, you have squashed her, drive on, drive on! [
The
car
accelerates.
Pause.
]
What a death! One minute picking happy at the dung, on the road, in the sun, with
now and then a dust bath, and then–bang!–all her troubles over. [
Pause.
]
All the laying and the hatching. [
Pause.
]
Just one great squawk and then … peace. [
Pause.
] They would have slit her weasand in any case. [
Pause.
] Here we are, let me down. [
The
car
slows
down,
stops,
engine
running
, 
MR SLOCUM
blows
his
horn.
Pause.
Louder.
Pause.
]
What are you up to now, Mr Slocum? We are at a standstill, all danger is past and
you blow your horn. Now if instead of blowing it now you had blown it at that unfortunate–

[
Horn
violently.
TOMMY
the
porter
appears
at
top
of
station
steps.
]

MR SLOCUM:
[
Calling.
]
Will you come down, Tommy, and help this lady out, she’s stuck.

[
TOMMY
descends
the
steps.
]

Open the door, Tommy, and ease her out.

[
TOMMY
opens
the
door.
]

TOMMY:
Certainly, sir. Nice day for the races, sir. What would you fancy for–

MRS ROONEY:
Don’t mind me. Don’t take any notice of me. I do not exist. The fact is well known.

MR SLOCUM:
Do as you’re asked, Tommy, for the love of God.

TOMMY:
Yessir. Now, Mrs Rooney.

[
He
starts
pulling
her
out.
]

MRS ROONEY:
Wait, Tommy, wait now, don’t bustle me, just let me wheel round and get my feet to
the ground. [
Her
efforts
to
achieve
this.
]
Now.

TOMMY:
[
Pulling her
out.
]
Mind your feather, Ma’am. [
Sounds
of
effort.
]
Easy now, easy.

MRS ROONEY:
Wait, for God’s sake, you’ll have me beheaded.

TOMMY:
Crouch down, Mrs Rooney, crouch down, and get your
head in the open.

MRS ROONEY:
Crouch down! At my time of life! This is lunacy!

TOMMY:
Press her down, sir.

[
Sounds
of
combined
efforts.
]

MRS ROONEY:
Pity!

TOMMY:
Now! She’s coming! Straighten up, Ma’am! There!

[
MR SLOCUM
slams
the
door.
]

MRS ROONEY:
Am I out?

[
The
voice
of
 
MR BARREL
L
,
the
station-master,
raised
in
anger.
]

MR BARRELL:
Tommy! Tommy! Where the hell is he?

[
MR SLOCUM
grinds
in
his
gear.
]

TOMMY:
[
Hurriedly.
]
You wouldn’t have something for the Ladies Plate, sir? I was given Flash Harry.

MR SLOCUM:
[
Scornfully.
]
Flash Harry! That carthorse!

MR BARRELL:
[
At
top
of steps,
roaring
]
Tommy! Blast your bleeding bloody– [
He
sees
MRS ROONEY
.] Oh, Mrs Rooney.… [
MR SLOCUM
drives
away
in
a
grinding
of
gears.
]
Who’s that crucifying his gearbox, Tommy?

TOMMY:
Old Cissy Slocum.

MRS ROONEY:
Cissy Slocum! That’s a nice way to refer to your betters. Cissy Slocum! And you an
orphan!

MR BARRELL:
[
Angrily
to
 
TOMMY
.]
What are you doing stravaging down here on the public road? This is no place for
you at all! Nip up there on the platform now and whip out the truck! Won’t the twelve
thirty be on top of us before we can turn round?

TOMMY:
[
Bitterly.
]
And that’s the thanks you get for a Christian act.

MR BARRELL:
[
Violently.
]
Get on with you now before I report you! [
Slow
feet
of
TOMMY
climbing
steps.
]
Do you want me to come down to you with the shovel? [
The
feet
quicken,
recede,
cease.
]
Ah God forgive me, it’s a hard life. [
Pause.
]
Well, Mrs Rooney, it’s nice to see you up and about again. You were laid up there
a long time.

MRS ROONEY:
Not long enough, Mr Barrell. [
Pause.
]
Would I were still in bed, Mr Barrell. [
Pause.
]
Would I were lying stretched out in my comfortable bed, Mr Barrell, just
wasting slowly, painlessly away, keeping up my strength with arrowroot and calves-foot
jelly, till in the end you wouldn’t see me under the blankets any more than a board.
[
Pause.
]
Oh no coughing or spitting or bleeding or vomiting, just drifting gently down into
the higher life, and remembering, remembering … [
The
voice
breaks.
]
… all the silly unhappiness … as though … it had never happened …. What did I do with
that handkerchief? [
Sound
of
handkerchief
loudly
applied.
]
How long have you been master of this station now, Mr Barrell?

MR BARRELL:
Don’t ask me, Mrs Rooney, don’t ask me.

MRS ROONEY:
You stepped into your father’s shoes, I believe, when he took them off.

MR BARRELL:
Poor Pappy! [
Reverent pause.
]
He didn’t live long to enjoy his ease.

MRS ROONEY:
I remember him clearly. A small ferrety
purple-faced
widower, deaf as a doornail, very testy and snappy. [
Pause.
]
I suppose you’ll be retiring soon yourself, Mr Barrell, and growing your roses. [
Pause.
]
Did I understand you to say the twelve thirty would soon be upon us?

MR BARRELL:
Those were my words.

MRS ROONEY:
But according to my watch which is more or less right–or was–by the eight o’clock
news the time is now coming up to twelve … [
Pause
as
she
consults
her
watch.
] … thirty-six. [
Pause.
]
And yet upon the other hand the up mail has not yet gone through. [
Pause.
]
Or has it sped by unbeknown to me? [
Pause.
]
For there was a moment there, I remember now, I was so plunged in sorrow I wouldn’t
have heard a steam roller go over me.

[
Pause.
 
MR BARRELL
turns
to
go.
]
Don’t go, Mr Barrell! [
MR BARRELL
goes.
Loud.
]
Mr Barrell! [
Pause.
Louder.
] Mr Barrell! [
MR BARRELL
comes
back.
]

MR BARRELL:
[
Testily.
]
What is it, Mrs Rooney, I have my work to do.

[
Silence.
Sound
of
wind.
]

MRS ROONEY:
The wind is getting up. [
Pause.
Wind.
]
The best of the day is over. [
Pause.
Wind.
Dreamily.
]
Soon the rain will begin to fall and go on falling, all afternoon.