Night Must Fall : a Play in Three Acts Part 23

DAN (_reading_): "The body was nude. Attempts had been made to ...

turn to foot of next column...." (_Doing so_) "Attempts had been made to ... era--eradicate fingerprints with a knife...."

(_Far away, the tolling of village bells. Reading_)

"... The head was severed by a skilled person, possibly a butcher. The murderer--" (_He stops suddenly, raises his head, smiles, takes the cigarette stub, puts it behind his ear, and listens._)

OLIVIA: What's the matter?

MRS. BRAMSON: Can you hear something? Oh, I'm scared....

DAN: I forgot it was Sunday.... They're goin' to church in the villages. All got up in their Sunday best, with prayer-books, and the organ playin', and the windows shinin'. Shinin' on holy things, because holy things isn't afraid of the daylight.

MRS. BRAMSON: But, Danny, what on earth are you--

DAN (_quelling her_): But all the time the daylight's movin' over the floor, and by the end of the sermon the air in the church is turnin' grey.... And people isn't able to think of holy things so much no more, only of the terrible things that's goin' on outside, that everybody's readin' about in the papers! (_Looking at_ OLIVIA) Because they know that though it's still daylight, and everythin's or'nary and quiet ... to-day will be the same as all the other days, and come to an end, and it'll be night.... (_After a pause, coming to earth again with a laugh at the others, throwing the newspaper on the sofa_) I forgot it was Sunday!

MRS. BRAMSON (_overawed_) Good gracious ... what's come over you, Danny?

DAN (_with exaggerated animation_): Oh, I speechify like anything when I'm roused! I used to go to Sunday school, see, and the thoughts sort of come into my head. Like as if I was readin' off a book!

(_Slapping his Bible_.)

MRS. BRAMSON: Dear, dear.... You should have been a preacher. You should!

DAN _laughs loudly and opens the Bible_.

DORA (_going to the table and collecting the tea-tray_): I never knew 'e 'ad so many words in 'is 'ead....

MRS. BRAMSON (_suddenly_): I want to lie down now, and be examined.

DAN (_rising_): Anything you say, mother o' mine.... Will you have your medicine in your room as well, eh?

MRS. BRAMSON: Yes, dear.... Olivia, you _never_ got a new bottle yesterday!

DAN (_as he wheels her into her bedroom_): I got it to-day while you were with the chap.... Popped in at the chemist's.

MRS. BRAMSON: Oh, thank you, dear. The one by the mortuary?... Oh, my back.... Nurse!...

_Her voice is lost in the bedroom. The daylight begins to fade. The church bells die away._

DORA: My sister says all this is wearin' me to a shadow.

OLIVIA: It is trying, isn't it?

DORA: You look that worried, too, Miss Grayne.

OLIVIA: Do I?

DORA: As if you was waiting for something to 'appen.

OLIVIA: Oh?

DORA: Like an explosion. A bomb, or something.

OLIVIA (_smiling_): I don't think that's very likely....

(_Lowering her voice_) Have you talked to Dan at all this week?

DORA: Never get the chance. 'E's too busy dancin' attendance on Madame Crocodile....

DAN _comes back from the bedroom, his cigarette stub between his lips.

(Going towards the kitchen_) I'm off. You don't catch me 'ere after dark.

DAN: Why, will ye be late for courting?

DORA: If I was, they'd wait for me. Good afternoon, Miss Grayne. Good afternoon ... _sir_.

DAN (_winking at_ OLIVIA): Are you sure they'd wait?

DORA: You ought to know.

_She goes into the kitchen_. DAN _and_ OLIVIA _are alone_. DAN _crosses to the sofa with a laugh, humming gaily_.

DAN: "Their home addresses ... and their caresses ..."

_He sits on the end of the sofa._

OLIVIA: You've been drinking, haven't you?

DAN (_after a pause, quizzically_): You don't miss much, do you?

OLIVIA (_significantly_): No.

DAN (_rubbing his hands_): I've been drinking, and I feel fine!

... (_Brandishing the Bible_) You wouldn't like another dose of reading?

OLIVIA: I prefer talking.

DAN (_putting down the Bible_): Carry on.

OLIVIA: Asking questions.

DAN (_catching her eye_): Carry on!

_He studies his outspread hands_.

OLIVIA (_crisply_): Are you sure you were ever a sailor? Are you sure you weren't a butcher?

_A pause. He looks at her, slowly, then breaks the look abruptly._