MRS C [smiling]: From what I hear, you’re very well off indeed these days, Ernest.
GERALD: Oh – there’s no doubt about that.
MRS C [hoping this will win him over]: And it only seems yesterday, Ernest, that you first came here – a very shy young man from nowhere.
ERNEST [grimly]: It’s twenty years ago, to be exact – but that’s just what I was – a shy young man from nowhere. And when I managed to wangle myself into this house I thought I’d got somewhere.
MRS C: I remember so well feeling that about you at the time, Ernest.
ERNEST: Yes. I was made to feel I’d got somewhere, too. But I stuck it. I’ve always been able to stick it, when I’ve had my mind on something I badly wanted. That’s how I’ve managed to get on.
ROBIN [who doesn’t like him, obviously]: Don’t begin to tell us now that you landed here with only a shilling in your pocket –
MRS C [warning, reproachful, yet secretly amused]: Now, now Robin!
ERNEST [in level unpleasant tone]: I wasn’t going to. Don’t worry, you’re not going to have the story of my life. All I was about to say was – that as far as I’m concerned, you can whistle for your two or three thousand pounds. You won’t get a penny from me. And I might as well tell you – while I’m making myself unpleasant – that I could lend you the two or three thousand without feeling it. Only, I’m not going to. Not a penny.
HAZEL [indignation struggling with her fear of him]: You make me feel ashamed.
ERNEST [staring hard at her]: Oh! Why? [She does not reply, but begins to crumple under his hard stare.] Go on. Tell ’em why I make you feel ashamed. Tell me. Or would you like to tell me later when I’m telling you a few things?
[HAZEL crumples into tears. ROBIN jumps up, furious.]
ROBIN: I never did like you, Beevers. I’ve half a mind to boot you out of this house.
ERNEST [no coward]: You do, and I’ll bring an action for assault. And I’d enjoy it. My money or the boot, eh? I told Hazel a long time ago that not one of you would ever get a penny out of me. And I’m not mean. Ask her. But I swore to myself after the very first night I came here, when you were all being so high and mighty – especially you – that you’d never see a penny that I ever made.
ROBIN [with a lurking grin]: I see.
ERNEST [very sharply]: What’s that mean? By God, she has! She’s been giving you money – my money.
HAZEL [terribly alarmed now]: Oh – Robin, why did you?
ROBIN [irritably]: What does it matter? He can’t eat you.
ERNEST [very quietly and deadly, to HAZEL]: Come on. [Goes out.]
[HAZEL looks terrified.]
MADGE: Don’t go, if you don’t want to.
KAY: Hazel, there’s nothing to be afraid of.
HAZEL [sincere, quiet, desperate]: There is. I’m frightened of him. Except right at the first – I’ve always been frightened of him.
ROBIN [noisily]: Don’t be silly. This little pipsqueak! What can he do?
HAZEL: I don’t know. It isn’t that. It’s just something about him.
ERNEST [returning with his overcoat on, to HAZEL]: Come on. I’m going.
HAZEL [summoning up all her courage]: N-no.
[He waits and looks at her. She slowly moves towards him, fearful and ashamed. MRS C moves hastily over towards ERNEST.]
MRS C [excitedly]: You sneaked your way in here, Ernest Beevers, and somehow you persuaded or bullied Hazel, who was considered then one of the prettiest girls in Newlingham, into marrying you –
HAZEL [imploring her]: No, Mother – please don’t –
MRS C: I’ll tell him now what I’ve always wanted to tell him. [Approaching ERNEST with vehemence.] I was a fool. My husband wouldn’t have had such a bullying mean little rat near the house. I never liked you. And I’m not surprised to hear you say you’ve always hated us. Don’t ever come here again, don’t ever let me see you again. I only wish I was Hazel for just one day, I’d show you something. What – you – my daughter – ! [In a sudden fury she slaps him hard across the face, with a certain grand magnificence of manner.] Now bring an action for that!
[Stands there, blazing at him. He rubs his cheek a little, backs a step or two, looking at her steadily.]
ERNEST [quietly]: You’ve done a lot of dam’ silly things in your time, Mrs Conway, but you’ll find that’s the dam’ silliest. [Turns and walks to door. At door he turns quickly to HAZEL.] Come on. [Goes out.]
[HAZEL is wretched.]
HAZEL: Oh – Mother – you shouldn’t.
ROBIN [rather grandly]: She did quite right. And you just let me know – if he gives you any trouble.
HAZEL [tearfully, shaking her head as she wanders towards door]: No, Robin. You don’t understand … you don’t understand…. [She goes out slowly.]
[A strained silence. MRS C goes back to her place.]
MRS C [with a short laugh]: Well – I suppose that was a silly thing to do.
GERALD [gravely]: I’m afraid it was, y’know.
KAY: You see, it’s Hazel who will have to pay for it.
ROBIN: Well, she needn’t. She’s only to let me know what he’s up to.
JOAN [surprisingly]: What’s the good of talking like that? What could you do? He can make her life a misery, and you couldn’t stop it.
MADGE: Well, it’s her own fault. I’ve no patience with her. I wouldn’t stand it ten minutes.
JOAN [with plenty of spirit, for her]: It’s no use you talking, Madge. You simply don’t understand. You’ve never been married.
MADGE: No, and after what I’ve seen here, I think I’m lucky.
MRS C [with energy]: You’re not lucky – never were and never will be – and as you haven’t the least idea what a woman’s real life is like, the less you say the better. You’re not among schoolgirls and silly teachers now. Robin, give me a glass of port. Won’t you have a drink too?
[ROBIN pours her a port and himself another whisky.]
GERALD [rising. He has already put his papers away in case]: I don’t think there’s any point in my staying any longer.
MRS C: But we haven’t settled anything.
GERALD [rather coldly]: I thought there was a chance that Ernest Beevers might have been persuaded to lend you the money. As I don’t think anybody else here has three thousand pounds to spare –
ROBIN [turning on him]: All right, Thornton, you needn’t be so damned supercilious about it. Seems to me you’ve not made a particularly bright job of handling my mother’s affairs.
GERALD [annoyed]: I don’t think that comes too well from you. For years I’ve given good advice, and never once has it been acted upon. Now I’d be only too delighted to hand over these affairs.
ROBIN: I believe I could make a better job of it myself.
GERALD [stiffly]: I can’t imagine a possible worse choice. [Moves with his case.] Good night, Kay. Good night, Alan.
JOAN [moving]: I think I’ll come along too, Gerald.
[GERALD and ALAN go out.]
ROBIN: You’ll be able to have a nice little chat about me on the way.
[JOAN stands still now and looks across at him.]
JOAN [very quietly]: It doesn’t hurt so much as it used to do, Robin, when you say such bitter things. I suppose one day it won’t hurt at all.
ROBIN [who is sorry at the moment]: Sorry, old girl. And give my love to the kids. Say I’m coming to see them soon.
JOAN: Yes, come and see us soon. Only remember – we’re very poor now.
ROBIN: Thanks for that. And then you talk about being bitter.
[They look at one another for a moment, lost and hopeless. Then JOAN moves away, slowly.]
KAY [rather painfully]: Good night, my dear.
JOAN [painfully turning and producing little social smile]: Good night, Kay. It’s been nice – seeing you again. [She goes out.]
[KAY, who is moved, withdraws herself.]
ROBIN [after another drink, an optimist]: Well, now we ought to be able to settle someth
ing.
MADGE [coldly]: So far as I’m concerned, this has simply been a waste of time – and nervous energy.
MRS C [with malice]: You know, Madge, when I think of Gerald Thornton as he is now, a dreary, conceited middle-aged bachelor, I can’t help thinking it’s perhaps a pity you didn’t marry him.
ROBIN [with a guffaw]: What, Madge! I never knew you fancied Gerald Thornton.
MRS C [in light but significant tone]: She did – once. Didn’t you, dear? And I believe he was interested – oh, a long time ago, when you children were all still at home.
KAY [sharply]: Mother, if that’s not true, then it’s stupid silly talk. If it is true, then it’s cruel.
MRS C: Nonsense! And not so high-and-mighty, please, Kay.
MADGE [facing them bravely]: It was true, a long time ago, just after the War. When I still thought we could suddenly make everything better for everybody. Socialism! Peace! Universal Brotherhood! All that. And I felt then that Gerald Thornton and I together could – help. He had a lot of fine qualities, I thought – and I believe he had then, too – and only needed to be pulled out of his rut here, to have his enthusiasm aroused. I was remembering tonight – when I was looking at him. It came back to me quite quickly. [This last was more to KAY than the other two. Now she takes her mother in.] One evening – just one evening – and something you did that evening – ruined it all. I’d almost forgotten – but seeing us all here again tonight reminded me – I believe it was at a sort of party for you, Kay. [Accusingly to her mother] Do you remember?
MRS C: Really, Madge, you are absurd. I seem to remember some piece of nonsense, when we were all being foolish.
MADGE: Yes, you remember. It was quite deliberate on your part. Just to keep a useful young man unattached or jealousy of a girl’s possible happiness, or just out of sheer nasty female mischief…. And something went for ever….
MRS C: It can’t have been worth very much then.
MADGE: A seed is easily destroyed, but it might have grown into an oak tree. [Pauses, looks solemnly at her mother.] I’m glad I’m not a mother.
MRS C [annoyed]: Yes, you may well say that.
MADGE [with deadly deliberation]: I know how I’d have despised myself if I’d turned out to be a bad mother.
MRS C [angrily, rising]: So that’s what you call me? [Pauses, then with more vehemence and emotion] Just because you never think of anybody but yourselves. All selfish – selfish. Because everything hasn’t happened as you wanted it, turn on me – all my fault. You never really think about me. Don’t try to see things for a moment from my point of view. When you were children, I was so proud of you all, so confident that you would grow up to be wonderful creatures. I used to see myself at the age I am now, surrounded by you and your own children, so proud of you, so happy with you all, this house happier and gayer even than it was in the best of the old days. And now my life’s gone by, and what’s happened? You’re a resentful soured schoolmistress, middle-aged before your time. Hazel – the loveliest child there ever was – married to a vulgar little bully, and terrified of him. Kay here – gone away to lead her own life, and very bitter and secretive about it, as if she’d failed. Carol – the happiest and kindest of you all – dead before she’s twenty. Robin – I know, my dear, I’m not blaming you now, but I must speak the truth for once – with a wife he can’t love and no sort of position or comfort or anything. And Alan – the eldest, the boy his father adored, that he thought might do anything – what’s he now? [ALAN has come in now and is standing there quietly listening.] A miserable clerk with no prospects, no ambition, no self-respect, a shabby little man that nobody would look at twice. [She sees him standing there now, but in her worked-up fury does not care, and lashes out at him.] Yes, a shabby clerk that nobody would look at twice.
KAY [in a sudden fury of loyalty]: How dare you, Mother, how dare you! Alan of all people!
ALAN [with a smile]: That’s all right, Kay. Don’t you get excited. It’s not a bad description. I am a shabby little clerk, y’know. It must be very disappointing.
MRS C: Oh – don’t be so forgiving! Robin, you’ve always been selfish and weak and a bit of a good-for-nothing –
ROBIN: Here, steady, old girl. I’ve had some rotten bad luck, too, y’know, and a lot of it’s just luck. I’ve come to see that.
MRS C [exhausted now]: All right – add the bad luck, too, my dear. The point is, whatever they may say about you, Robin my darling, you’re my own boy and my own sort, and a great comfort. So you and I will go upstairs and talk.
ROBIN [as she takes his arm]: That’s the spirit!
[They move off together.]
MADGE [very quietly]: Mother! [MRS C stops but does not turn.] We’ve both said what we want to say. There isn’t any more to be said. And if you decide to have any more of these family conferences, don’t trouble to ask me to attend them, because I shan’t. I don’t expect now to see a penny of father’s money. And please don’t expect to see any of mine.
ROBIN: Who wants yours?
MRS C: Come on, my dear, and we’ll talk like human beings.
[They go out. The other three are quiet and still.]
MADGE: I have an idea I wasn’t too pleasant to you, Kay, earlier when we met tonight. If so, I’m sorry.
KAY: That’s all right, Madge. Are you going back to Collingfield tonight?
MADGE: No, I can’t. But I’m staying with Nora Fleming – you remember her? She’s Head of Newlingham High now. I’ve left my things there. I’ll go now. I don’t want to see mother again.
KAY: Good-bye, Madge. I hope you collar one of these headships.
MADGE: Good-bye, Kay. And do try and write a good book, instead of doing nothing but this useless journalism.
[They kiss. MADGE goes off, accompanied by ALAN. KAY, left to herself, shows that she is deeply moved. She moves restlessly, then hastily pours herself a whisky and soda, lights a cigarette, tastes the whisky, then sits down, ignores the cigarette burning in her hand and the whisky, stares into the past, and then begins to cry. ALAN returns, filling his pipe.]
ALAN [cheerfully]: You’ve a good half-hour yet, Kay, before you need set out for the London train. I’ll take you to the station. [Comes up to her.] What’s the matter? Has all this – been a bit too much for you?
KAY [ruefully]: Apparently. And I thought I was tough now, Alan…. See, I was doing the modern working woman – a cigarette and a whisky and soda … no good, though…. You see, Alan, I’ve not only been here tonight. I’ve been here remembering other nights, long ago, when we weren’t like this….
ALAN: Yes, I know. Those old Christmasses … birthday parties …
KAY: Yes, I remembered. I saw all of us then. Myself, too. Oh, silly girl of Nineteen Nineteen! Oh, lucky girl!
ALAN: You mustn’t mind too much. It’s all right, y’know. Like being forty?
KAY: Oh no, Alan, it’s hideous and unbearable. Remember what we once were and what we thought we’d be. And now this. And it’s all we have, Alan, it’s us. Every step we’ve taken – every tick of the clock – making everything worse. If this is all life is, what’s the use? Better to die, like Carol, before you find it out, before Time gets to work on you. I’ve felt it before, Alan, but never as I’ve done tonight. There’s a great devil in the universe, and we call it Time.
ALAN [playing with his pipe, quietly, shyly]: Did you ever read Blake?
KAY: Yes.
ALAN: Do you remember this? [Quotes quietly, but with feeling]
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine;
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Safely through the world we go….
KAY: Safely through the world we go? No, it isn’t true, Alan – or it isn’t true for me. If things were merely mixed – good and bad – that would b
e all right, but they get worse. We’ve seen it tonight. Time’s beating us.
ALAN: No, Time’s only a kind of dream, Kay. If it wasn’t, it would have to destroy everything – the whole universe – and then remake it again every tenth of a second. But Time doesn’t destroy anything. It merely moves us on – in this life – from one peep-hole to the next.
KAY: But the happy young Conways, who used to play charades here, they’ve gone, and gone for ever.
ALAN: No, they’re real and existing, just as we two, here now, are real and existing. We’re seeing another bit of the view – a bad bit, if you like – but the whole landscape’s still there.
KAY: But, Alan, we can’t be anything but what we are now.
ALAN: No … it’s hard to explain … suddenly like this … there’s a book I’ll lend you – read it in the train. But the point is, now, at this moment, or any moment, we’re only a cross-section of our real selves. What we really are is the whole stretch of ourselves, all our time, and when we come to the end of this life, all those selves, all our time, will be us – the real you, the real me. And then perhaps we’ll find ourselves in another time, which is only another kind of dream.
KAY: I’ll try to understand … so long as you really believe – and think it’s possible for me to believe – that Time’s not ticking our lives away … wrecking … and ruining everything … for ever….
ALAN: No, it’s all right, Kay. I’ll get you that book. [Moves away towards door, then turns.] You know, I believe half our trouble now is because we think Time’s ticking our lives away. That’s why we snatch and grab and hurt each other.
KAY: As if we were all in a panic on a sinking ship.
ALAN: Yes, like that.
KAY [smiling at him]: But you don’t do those things – bless you!
ALAN: I think it’s easier not to – if you take a long view.
KAY: As if we’re – immortal beings?
ALAN [smiling]: Yes, and in for a tremendous adventure.
[Goes out. KAY, comforted, but still brooding, goes to the window and stands there looking out, with head raised. No sooner is she settled there than the curtain comes down.]
END OF ACT TWO